#“how dare anyone give me attitude!” cries the king of having an attitude

[howthesleeplesswander]

((Given his eternally hectic schedule and propensity for being scatterbrained, Kaveh gave a few tries at having an assistant after the Palace of Alcazarzaray skyrocketed his already prestigious reputation.

It's important to him to encourage young talent, so he took on up-and-coming Ksharewar student volunteers to help him with all manner of things, from carrying his tools and supplies, to running job-related errands, to keeping track of his schedule. In return, the students shadowed Kaveh to gain firsthand experience in all aspects of the work of an architect, from mapping and surveying, to client meetings, to project management and overseeing a build site.

Unfortunately...Kaveh is Kaveh. X'D His own terrible work habits are his downfall. He doesn't know how to say "no" to anyone and agrees to so many projects that balancing it all is impossible. He refuses to compromise on his artistic vision, even at the cost of budget inflation, missed deadlines, and timeline extensions. He's absolutely brilliant, but his artistic process is chaotic on the best of days.

Inevitably, his assistants observed these behaviors and questioned/called Kaveh out on them. As a result, none of his student assistants lasted long, whether it was due to Kaveh being indignant over them questioning their senior, or the students themselves growing tired of Kaveh's antics.

After these failed attempts, Kaveh gave up on the idea and instead built Mehrak to be his "assistant."

And Mehrak's best feature?

"Most importantly, it can't talk—so it can't give me any attitude. 😤" ))

[mordoriscalling]

The Shrike and the Lark (pt. 5)

Jaskier and Renfri are disaster twins ruling Creyden. When the Warlord of the North knocks at their door, Queen Renfri and King Julian are at an advantage - they know him. As in, they know him. (Inspired by the Warlord AU and “the heart is a winged beast”).

(Pt. 1) (Pt. 2) (Pt. 3) (Pt. 4)

Creyden, 1237

On the tenth day of the Warlord’s stay in Creyden, a famous travelling troupe of musicians performs after dinner, for the enjoyment of the King, the Queen, their court, as well as the White Wolf and his entourage. The group came on King Julian’s invitation, for he is a great patron of arts. Ever since he ascended the throne, he’s actively encouraged artists to visit and create under his sponsorship. As a result, the royal court of Creyden has become one of the cultural centres of the North, which silenced at least those who condemned the Black Sun monarchs as barbarians with no care for the finer elements of life.

The evening’s music is splendid and people take to the dancefloor eagerly. King Julian and Queen Renfri dance first four dances together – with the Queen as the lead and the King as the led, for the twin monarchs have been criticised for their non-traditionality so many times that, out of spite, they have made it their mission to shove it in everyone’s faces – but then King Julian leaves his sister’s side to ask Eskel to join him.

As King Julian and Eskel dance, their gazes do not stray from each other for a second, and smiles do not leave their faces. Too taken with each other, they do not take not of the scrutiny of the whole room falls upon them. After all, the Lark has never taken a lover so peculiar. The bulky, scarred monster hunter is a far cry from the noblewomen and occasional noblemen not rejecting the King’s advances in fear of consequences. Eskel is at ease, appearing somehow dismissive of their difference in station, which does not endear him to many in the royal court.

Their affair has not been received with the same disapproval by other witchers, with the glaring exception of the Warlord himself. It has been noticed, of course, that the White Wolf seems to bear a grudge towards the King. The witcher’s attitude towards the Lark has been frosty, especially during the negotiation talks. Yet, even then, the Warlord does not show his dislike as openly as he does now – his glower directed at King Julian could bring death to a lesser man.

The King, however, is no ordinary man in this regard. He is known to love proudly, no matter who holds his affections at a given time. And so, he answers the White Wolf’s glares with challenging stares of his own as he dances with his witcher lover.

The situation eventually reaches its climax. After their third dance together, Eskel and King Julian leave the dance floor and make their way towards the high table, chattering happily. The White Wolf raises from his seat and strides towards them, meeting them halfway.

The King’s good humour vanishes as the Warlord, who scowls formidably, stands before him. The room seems to hold a breath.

“May I request a moment in private, Your Majesty?” the White Wolf grinds out.

“You may,” the King permits coldly.

Julian leaves Eskel with a kiss on the cheek and a murmured promise of swift return, then heads out of the hall with the Warlord silently following in his footsteps. The two renew their conversation only when the door of the nearby war room closes behind them. As soon as no ears can hear them, the White Wolf lays the problem on the line.

“Put a stop to your dalliance with Eskel,” he demands. King Julian sputters but the White Wolf does not give him the chance to answer. “Either this,” he goes on, “Or court him properly and marry him. Do right by him. He doesn’t deserve any less.”

“That is true,” King Julian agrees, then falls silent. Eventually, he speaks again, his response measured, “You charged me with not being the same irresponsible man I once had been, but you weren’t entirely right. There remains one responsibility that I will dodge until my dying breath or else it will take away the rest of the air I breathe. My duties stifle me enough already.”

“Jaskier,” the Warlord sighs, exasperated. “Put it bluntly.”    

“I will not marry, Geralt.”

Anger sparks in Geralt’s gaze at the statement. “So what are you even doing with Eskel?” he growls, “Toying with him to your amusement? Does the prospect of the ruin you’ll bring to his heart entertain you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks, his eyes narrowed.  

“You are the same with all your lovers, aren’t you?” Geralt asks. “You look into their core so that not a single vulnerability remains hidden from you. Then, you embrace them as completely as only you can – ” Soul-deep hurt unfurls in Geralt’s tone as he says this, seeping from in between the syllables until his voice is hoarse. “ – and then, you love them like they’ve never been loved before, just to walk away, leaving them forever aching for the fullness of your love.”

The accusations – so lashed out and yet so carefully structured – leave ringing silence in their wake. The White Wolf, vulnerable after having bared his heart, shifts away. Jaskier may now only look upon the witcher’s back. He attempts to form a reply but fails to make a sound. When he finally succeeds, he manages just one word.  

“Geralt,” he rasps, shocked, pained and pleading all at once.

Geralt does not answer the call; he clenches his fists but stands still.

Jaskier swallows thickly. “There hasn’t been a day since that I don’t regret leaving you,” he confesses, sorrow making his own voice waver, “I’m so sorry, but I had to. I had to find – ”

Geralt turns to Jaskier with a huff, baring his teeth in a derisive smile. “Don’t bother,” he says, then moves to leave the room.

“But I promised,” Jaskier insists, standing in his way.

“Fuck your promise,” the witcher snaps. “Fuck that, and the rest of your lies.”

“I did not lie,” Jaskier counters, now furious too, “The Jaskier you got to know is all real. Julian was concealed underneath, yes, I did not lie when I befriended you because you’re a good man, nor when loved you with every breath I drew – ”

“Shut up,” the White Wolf snarls, “Don’t you fucking dare say such things to me, not after you avoided all my questions –”

“I was too afraid! I was never sure if Stregobor was still after me or not, I was too afraid to be discovered. I never revealed my lineage to anyone!”

“You didn’t trust me, then.”

“I trust you with my life!” Jaskier cries.

The statement and the emotion behind it dance on the verge of saying too much. Geralt’s answer dies on his tongue and he stares at his former lover, stunned.

Jaskier goes to sit down at the table, covering his face with his hands. When he stops hiding his face, he does not look at Geralt. “The way you can’t speak of the Trails,” he says quietly, “just the same, I couldn’t utter a word of what Stregobor has done to my sister – my twin, the very half of my soul – or of how he made me submit to his tortures. Or of how I lived on the run, whoring myself, lying and stealing, until I finally turned the corner. I couldn’t face how that fucking mage shaped me into a wreck that I am.”

Geralt sighs, his anger faltering. “You saw me for the wreck that I was, that I am,” he replies. “All of it, and you didn’t flinch away. Why didn’t you allow me a single glimpse in return? You must’ve known that you had no rejection to fear from me.”

“And yet, I was a coward,” Jaskier admits. “I’m so sorry –”

“I don’t wish to speak of it anymore,” the witcher dismisses, measuring Jaskier with a hard stare. “Just be warned, Your Majesty: if you break my brother’s heart, there will be consequences.”

“Understood,” King Julian grinds out and raises from his seat. Then, he looks deep into the White Wolf’s eyes, bows his head and murmurs, “My lord.”

The Warlord clenches his jaw and storms out of the room.

The King returns to the feast alone, which is a fact not overlooked by anyone in the hall, including those seated at the high table.

“I wonder,” Lady Yennefer says to the Queen, “What’s happened between them?”

The chair separating the sorceress and Queen Renfri has been vacated. Without the Warlord in the way, the two women are now able to converse freely.

Queen Renfri looks at Lady Yennefer sharply. “Why is that of interest to you?” she demands.

“Your Majesty doesn’t have to distrust me so,” the sorceress reassures, “I have no ill-willed intentions. It’s just curiosity.”

Renfri accepts the answer, inclining her head just a touch. Her watchful gaze does not stray from White Wolf’s left hand for a moment. “You must excuse my distrust of mages, Lady Yennefer” she says, “It’s a result of what one of your kind put me through.”

“I understand,” Lady Yennefer replies smoothly, “Stregobor did take it way too far, but he was very fond of the influence which instigating fear of the Curse granted him.” She snorts. “I can’t say I miss his bullshit.”

“Damn right,” Renfri agrees, “The world’s better without him. His life is the only one I pride myself in taking.”

“It is an achievement of a sort,” the sorceress affirms. “Though, I must admit that I’m... cautious, facing a person who managed to kill one of my own kind.”

Queen Renfri smirks smugly but then schools her face into a neutral expression. “Mutual wariness suits fine with me,” she answers, reaching for her goblet of wine.

Lady Yennefer takes a sip from her drink as well. The two ladies are silent for some time, listening to the music and surveying the surroundings. They both chuckle upon witnessing King Julian quite literally dragging Eskel out of the hall.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t settle for mutual wariness,” Lady Yennefer suggests then. At the Queen’s questioning gaze, she explains, “One grows the most powerful by conquering their own fears.”

Queen Renfri regards the sorceress intently but the purple-eyed mage does not seem bothered by the intense scrutiny - she stares right back with a similar interest.

“I shall consider this thought,” the Queen says at last.  

Lady Yennefer’s smile is sharp and satisfied as she replies, “Then I am awaiting your answer.”

Renfri lifts her goblet up and drinks to that.

Read the rest on AO3

[dweetwise]

OUT OF ALL THE PEOPLE WHO IS PINNING FOR DWIGHT ITS ACE WHO HE CHOOSES AND THE OTHERS ARE LIKE ????? WHERE DID HE COME FROM ????? ace is actually really romantic and soft and cares very deeply for dwight and it took him awhile to show that yes he is serious and no he's not gonna use him and leave

I’M SORRY IF THIS WASN’T MEANT AS A REQUEST the idea just popped into my head and i had to write it! yes i have a soft spot for this ship leave me alone ;w; also i cried at “ace is actually really romantic and soft” like you can’t just sAy thAT to me and expect me to function properly hnsdsfdhfdg ;A; no warnings for this one, only a little crack and ooc!

word count: 2000

Ace X Dwight (/X p much everyone): Never reveal your winning hand

“—fock off with that shit! He’s stayin’ with me!” David yells.

“I should share with him, I’m his best friend!” Jake counters.

“Ya just wanna get in ‘is pants!” David accuses.

“Oh, as opposed to you, huh?” Quentin butts in, crossing his arms and glaring defiantly at the Englishman.

Ace leans further back against the log and watches the spectacle unfold with a lazy smirk.

The Entity had recently gifted them tents to sleep in, only there weren’t enough for everyone and some would have to share. The girls had been able to decide their sleeping arrangements easily, but David’s temper had sparked an argument among the boys and now all of the men were sent into the woods until they could come up with a solution—‘Peacefully,’ Claudette had insisted, shooting a pointed look David’s way.

Which was proving much harder than anyone would have anticipated, since it turned out nearly everyone wanted to share with Dwight, and wasn’t afraid of voicing it since their leader was currently stuck in a trial and oblivious to the argument going on.

Bill had left only minutes into the discussion, angrily claiming he’d rather sleep on the ground than listen to them for another second, followed by Tapp and Ash who had watched the scene with varying levels of disbelief before silently agreeing to share with each other.

Ace already knows how this will turn out, but it’s just funny to watch the others fight over Dwight.

“Since when ‘ave you lot even fancied ‘im?” David glares. “And you—ya barely just got ’ere!” he stops to address Felix in an accusation.

“And that means I probably have a better chance than any of you,” Felix explains calmly. “I’d actually make a move and not just pine for four years.”

“Hey!” Jake protests.

“Alright, what reason the rest of ya got?” David demands, regarding the group skeptically.

“I just wanna make sure he’s not perved on by someone else!” Quentin argues.

“No, you want to white knight for him!” Jake counters.

“Shut up Jake, now what about the rest?” David interrupts.

“I’d just really like to spend some time with him to get to know him better,” Adam explains.

“Me too,” Jeff says. “I haven’t had a proper chance to ask him if he’d be interested.”

David nods in acknowledgement, before his eyes meet Ace’s and he can’t quite suppress the disgusted sneer upon imagining Dwight ending up sharing a sleeping space with him.

“I just think he’s cute,” Ace says with a smile, giving a one-shoulder shrug.

“Look, why is Ace even here?” Jake sighs in annoyance. “Nobody would touch him with a ten-foot pole, least of all Dwight.”

“Maybe we should just ask Dwight who he wants to share with?” Steve suggests, cocking his head in thought.

“NO!” a chorus of protests interrupt him and the well-intentioned teen offers an apologetic grin.

“Look, we all know I’m ‘is type—” David starts, puffing up his chest, highlighting his generously open neckline that shows off his build.

“You don’t know shit,” Jake argues. “He sure as hell wouldn’t go for a dumb meathead like you!”

“Mate, you watch your mouth—” David starts.

“There you are!” a familiar voice interrupts the argument and both David and Jake freeze, turning their heads to look at Dwight making his way over to the group. “What’s going on? Bill said I should come sort something out?”

“Uhh…”

Ace rolls his eyes. At first, everyone was shouting over each other, and now, face to face with the object of their affection, are rendered speechless like a couple of schoolboys.

“Err, did you see the tents?” Steve starts, taking the initiative to explain when nobody else is making a move to do so.

“Oh! Yeah, they’re pretty neat, huh?” Dwight says with a small smile.

“Y-yeah,” Steve stammers and blushes a little, Dwight’s cuteness apparently making his words leave him, so Jeff takes over.

“There’s not enough for everyone, so we were just trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements,” Jeff explains. “Do you… um, do you have a preference…?”

Ace can feel everyone holding their breaths as Dwight blinks a couple times in confusion, before a flush spreads over his face.

“Oh, uh, don’t worry about me,” Dwight says, nervously wringing his hands together, before finally meeting Ace’s gaze. “I already know who I’m sharing with.”

Ace swears he hears jaws drop to the floor as Dwight makes his way over and sits down next to him, making himself comfortable against Ace like he’s done countless times before, only this time they have an audience.

“Welcome back, cariño,” Ace murmurs warmly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “How was your trial?”

“It was okay,” Dwight says, looking up at him with a happy smile. “Could have used some of your crazy luck, though. I missed you.”

And then the boy dares to place a peck on his cheek in their first gesture of PDA, and Ace doesn’t even bother trying to hide his smug grin from the others.

“You could have told us,” Adam scolds him, huffing in annoyance but otherwise seeming to have collected himself.

“What?” Dwight pipes up, a frown on his handsome face and oblivious to Ace taking his silent victory over the others. “What do you mean?”

“N-no, not you…” Adam stammers, averting his eyes.

“Fucking figures,” Quentin scoffs in disgust, meeting Ace’s eyes and not bothering to mask his hostility.

“Is there a problem?” Dwight is suddenly raising his voice, wrapping his arms around Ace almost protectively, looking at the others defiantly as if daring someone to protest.

Ace finds the display unbelievably adorable, his normally meek boyfriend coming out of his shell to defend his honor. He places a kiss into Dwight’s hairline to soothe some of his nerves but not ready to defuse just yet, a twisted part of him wanting to see how the others react to their leader’s possessive behavior.

“Not at all,” Jeff says, trying and failing to hide the surprise on his face. “We just had no idea you were… involved.”

“We’re not ‘involved’, we’re dating. He’s my boyfriend,” Dwight is quick to remove any doubts, scowling at the others as intimidatingly as anyone with his baby face and doe-like brown eyes is capable of.

“Well, I suppose that’s the end of that discussion,” Felix comments, not seeming terribly phased to learn that Dwight is taken.

“Yeah, uh… congrats!” Steve laughs nervously and gives them an awkward thumbs-up.

“You’d better take care of him,” Jake glares at Ace like he’s the scum of the Earth, and Ace is fluent enough in Jake-talk to know that’s the closest thing he’ll get to having the saboteur’s blessing.

Ace raises a challenging eyebrow in response and Jake grits his teeth to no doubt suppress a snarky comment that he knows Dwight wouldn’t appreciate hearing, and Ace smirks over the moral victory and focuses his attention on David instead.

And promptly has to suppress a laugh over the brawler’s reaction. David is staring at them, or well, mostly at Ace. He looks completely gobsmacked, looking Ace up and down before looking down at his own, naked and well-defined chest, confused beyond what his fighting-filled brain can handle.

“Something on your mind, King?” Ace asks cockily, knowing full well the scrapper is most likely trying to figure out why Dwight would choose someone like Ace over a prime specimen like himself.

“How the fuck,” David merely mutters but, thankfully, isn’t picking a fight. Dwight still tenses in Ace’s arms and Ace’s grip tightens around him in an attempt to soothe him.

“Shh, it’s fine,” Ace murmurs into his lover’s soft hair, and that’s enough to reassure Dwight, the man relaxing into the embrace.

“So, guess we’re sharing with each other!” Steve exclaims, breaking some of the tension over the group. “Who’s going with who?”

“I’ll come with you,” Quentin says, still sounding a little pissed off but not about to cuss anyone out again, at least. “Unless someone has any more confessions to spring on us,” he snarks.

“Works for me,” Steve beams, nothing seeming to ruin his good mood.

Ace hears Felix mutter something about how he “Might as well go with Bill”, but then he sees David approaching Jake and instantly focuses on that instead.

“So, Jake…” David starts, cocky attitude back in place as he approaches the sulking saboteur with his shirt fluttering open—what the hell, did he pop even more of the buttons?

“What,” Jake spits, the challenging glare never leaving his face, and Ace almost prepares for a fight to break out.

“Wanna share?” David asks instead, not bothering to hide the way his gaze roams over Jake’s body. Ace chokes on a disbelieving laugh and from the way Dwight’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head, he’s not imagining the sudden sexual tension between the two frenemies.

He sees the wariness in Jake’s expression, and the way his eyes very obviously linger on David’s now exposed chest.

“Fine,” Jake says, but it lacks any real heat, at least of the ‘I’m-five-seconds-away-from-punching-you’ kind, and David grins and seems way too pleased with himself.

Well, there goes everyone’s undisturbed sleep for tonight.

Finally having sorted out their sleeping arrangements, with Adam and Jeff being the unlucky ones left but not seeming to mind being stuck together, the others take their leave to go set up the tents.

Ace is finally able to wipe the smirk off his face in favor of a softer smile that’s solely reserved for Dwight, turning his head around to face his boyfriend and about to start explaining the strange behavior from the others, when…

“Had enough of your gloating?” Dwight deadpans, taking Ace completely off guard and making him gape a little stupidly. “I’m not dumb, I saw what you were doing.”

Ace offers a nervous chuckle while trying to collect himself. He should have known by now Dwight is not nearly as naïve as he seems, and that he’d easily pick up on what was really happening.

“I’m sorry, amor,” Ace says, wincing from embarrassment over his childish actions. “I did want to show you off, especially after hiding for so long. And I also really wanted to watch Jake eat his words,” he confesses, clasping Dwight’s hand and bringing it up to brush his lips against the knuckles. “Forgive me?”

Dwight’s frown immediately melts into a dopey smile, and Ace barely has the time to blink in confusion over the kid’s perfect poker face before Dwight’s lips are meeting his in a reassuring kiss.

“Of course, you dummy,” Dwight beams at him, placing one last quick peck on his lips. “I’m just… really happy you think I’m even worth showing off.”

“No no no, sweetheart, we’ve talked about this,” Ace returns the smile, carding a hand through Dwight’s hair in encouragement, his boyfriend immediately leaning into the touch. “You’re not allowed to talk about yourself that way. Because…?”

“Because I’m…” Dwight starts, a flush creeping up his neck. “’Gorgeous’ and ‘perfect’,” he says, doing air quotes.

“Uh-huh,” Ace’s smile widens even further as he takes Dwight’s hands in his own to stop the self-conscious gesture. “And?”

“S…” Dwight flounders as his face reddens even further and he averts his eyes. “S-‘sexy’.”

“Damn right you are,” Ace purrs, releasing his gentle hold on Dwight’s hands to wrap around his waist instead. “I’ve got good taste.”

As if 75% of the male survivor population thirsting after his adorable boyfriend wasn’t proof enough.

“You’re ridiculous,” Dwight huffs, embarrassment giving way to a fond smile.

“You love it,” Ace counters, placing a playful peck on Dwight’s nose.

“I love you,” Dwight corrects, chasing his lips and going in for a passionate kiss that has Ace’s breath hitching in his throat and his heart hammering in his chest.

And damn, if the others knew exactly what they were missing when it comes to Dwight Fairfield, Ace would be in a lot of trouble.

[91percentpynch]

the raven cycle x all for the games crossover part one - ronan and the ravens

i dedicate this to leni, as she sent me fanart of ronan lynch in a raven uniform and we started to talk about this. you probably won‘t see this, but this is for you. trigger warning: mention of abuse, mention of scars, mention/ hinting of rape, description of physical abuse at the end!! if i should add any warnings let me know!!

ronan joined the ravens because niall fucked up the moriymas and it was giving them one of their sons or dying

well we all know niall is a narcist so obviously he chose a son of his instead of his own death

declan figured that out pretty fast and immediatly volunteered so that niall would let ronan and matthew live in peace

but niall had other plans - he chose ronan: attitude problem and dreamer? he would surive the cruelties of the nest

declan told ronan, promised him to keep him safe, to not let niall take him away

declan tried to save him, really did try, but in the end he was just a teenage boy and their father? well he was their father, powerful dreamer, narcistic asshole, stubborn without limits

one night when declan and ronan go to bed, declan in ronan‘s room like every night since they heard from the deal, their father came in their room and got ronan

declan didn‘t notice, he slept too deeply - one of niall‘s dreams, so he would get ronan without declan noticing

when declan noticed however he screamed and cried and woke the entire house up

matthew didn‘t understand why his older brother cried in the room of the middle child every single day since the day ronan mysterically disappeared

riko tries to break him, because investments don‘t have feelings, they aren‘t human

little does he know that ronan doesn‘t have feelings, he doesn‘t have a heart you can break

besides that he lived with niall lynch long enough to know what pain feels like - after all their father gave them boxing/ fighting lessons and taught them how to handle pain

ronan is a backliner, he is jean‘s partner

jean and ronan grow really close

ronan promised to keep jean safe and unless declan ronan masters and sticks to his plans

he does everything to get riko‘s attention - disrespecting him, not showing up to practise, not doing as he was told

riko tried to use jean against ronan only ONCE - one of the only regrets the king of exy had in his sorry life

when riko tries to use that against him, ronan protects jean by fighting riko

this ends in riko torturing him

ronan doesn‘t mind

ronan is a dreamer in this universe

only jean knows about him

ronan dreams jean and himself things against the pain

ronan is actually super good at exy

almost as good as kevin

kevin has a crush on ronan

ronan doesn‘t care, because kevin is not his type

his type is adam parrish - starting dealer from the palmetto foxes

when they marked him, he tried to get a feeling of what the color is like, so when he went to bed he got himself a tattoo of his own

on his back, a maejestic raven, two boys kissing, surrounded by the forrest in his dreams

he hides it as good as he can from riko - for jean‘s sake because yes he fought him once and he might have left him in peace but you never know with that psychopath, do you?

and so he goes through the days, pain blurring them all together, jean always waiting for him in their room

„you don‘t have to do that, you don‘t have to take all the pain for my mistakes“, jean whispers in french once again.

„jean, moi soleil, i promised you to keep you safe. i‘m not my fucking brother. i never lie. i keep my promise, i will keep you safe. and if that means that i have to entertain our favourite dickhead, i will gladly do that“, ronan replied softly.

„i don‘t want you to be in pain“, jean admitted quietly.

„jean, you idiot, i am always in pain. either in my dreams or in this hellhole. but at least seeing riko furious is fun, unless my dreams“, ronan‘s eyes slowly wandered to his scars on his wrist.

jean just takes ronan‘s hands and holds them - their secret promise to never leave each other‘s side

eventually they fall asleep, jean‘s head on ronan‘s shoulder, ronan‘s head on top of jean‘s dark brown curles

they get woken up by a furious riko

ronan wasn‘t able to hide his tattoo fast enough, riko already saw it

„how dare you? how dare you disrespecting your master you piece of shit?“, riko yelled.

„which master? all i see is a little dickhead with a napoleon complex“, ronan replied calmly, looking riko right in the cold, dead dark brown eyes.

riko didn‘t take these words well and went straight for jean

„i would think about touching him twice if i were you. i don‘t know how you see it but i‘m roughly a foot taller and i know how to box. I wouldn‘t take my chances there. one more step towards him, one funny look and we‘ll find out“, ronan said calmly, „whatever you want to do to him, do it to me. i‘m a lot of fun. don‘t like my tattoo because you‘re an homophobic brat? well try burn it off me. take a knife and cut it off me. i don‘t care, i‘m a big guy, i can take it. however we don‘t want the other dickhead to know i might not show up to practice because my back hurts and oh, how my exy will suffer under that. probably gonna send someone to me in the shower again, oh how creative“

riko however didn‘t listen and took another furious step towards jean, hatred and madness in his eyes, which only meant once: brutality, torture, no limits of his anger

ronan out stepped riko and put himself in front of jean „go as far back as you can. sit down on your bed, face to the wall“, ronan said to jean in french, the other boy did as he was told, not knowing what else he should do

it was one of these times where ronan asked himself what that boy did before he arrived three years ago. how he surrived so long. obviously he saw his scars and ronan blamed himself for every single one of them. technically they weren‘t his fault, he wasn‘t here. but his brain stopped working properly when it came to the people he loved, he cared about.

he took his chance, the moment of suprise on his side and punched him right in his face. when riko tripped over his own feet ronan didn‘t hestiate and kicked him in the stomach. riko was never used to abuse, he was never beaten, never kicked, so he fell to the floor, holding his stomach, trying to catch his breathe

again ronan didn‘t hestiate, he took jean and ran for it

ran without any goal, without any orientation, he didn‘t plan this through, he just knew they didn‘t have time

„run, if you can make it without me, you run! do you hear me jean? run!“, he whisper-shouted at the other boy as they made their way through an dark corridor

„i won‘t leave you behind. i‘ll go with you, or not at all. he will kill you if we don‘t make it“, jean replied, anxiety making his accent thicker

they were just about to run around the corner when kevin came into their way

„what are you guys doing?“, he asked innocently.

„oh we‘re on a romantic fucking walk, watching the sunset asshole. we‘re fleeing. from your nice little cult. we‘re going. and if i find out you tell someone what we do i will come back and murder you princess. now either move out of the fucking way or join us for all i care. but if mr dickhead king of exy finds me, he will murder you, so i would really appreciate you making your decision fucking fast shithead“, ronan whispered fastly and furiously.

„i‘ll go with you, i‘ll bring you out“, kevin says in french.

ronan knew he didn‘t have the time to question day so he followed him, jean always close, ready to fight anyone who would be a danger for him

kevin navigates them through the labyrinth of the nest fast, always in the shadows, carefully that they won‘t be seen

somehow they managed to get out of the nest, but they didn‘t stop, they couldn‘t, not if they wanted to live

„did any of you actually plan this through?“, jean asks nervously

„of course i planned that riko would walk in on us sleeping together in one bed, where my back with my secret tattoo is exposed, where i then beat and kick him, take your hand and run like my life depends on it. and while i was at it i texted day ‚hey dickhead wanna go on an adventure;)‘ with my non-existent mobile“, ronan replied annoyed

„i actually did plan that sometimes, for fun. thought i might wanna visit my dad, thought i might wanna change teams. you know, riko gets harder and harder to stan with his perfect team bullshit and bla bla bla ronan and jean are not worthy your attentin bla bla bla stop talking about jeremy knox bla bla bla i will show you how that feels like bla bla bla being forced to sleep with riko bla bla bla“, kevin said quietly, they almost didn‘t make the words out.

„i thought he wouldn‘t do that to you, asshole“, ronan replied softly, „as much as we love a good talk about shared trauma, how did you plan to get away from here“

„actually no“, kevin said.

„how long do you think we have until mr dickhead is coming out here with his shithead uncle to kill us all?“, ronan asked calmly.

„i‘d say not long? five minutes the longest“, kevin replied.

ronan could physically feel jean‘s anxiety

„jean, it‘s gonna be okay, give me two seconds“, ronan replied. „i‘m gonna lay down now. if they come, jean you run. run as fast as you can. take them down. don‘t let them catch you. day? help him, i swear to god if i hear you didn‘t i will come visit you and i will not be as nice as riko“, ronan sadi to kevin, with a cold smile on his lips

over the years ronan learned how to control his sleep, how to fall asleep fast and dream something fast, this would work

ronan carefully lays down, closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe. he repeats this a few times. quickly he falls asleep and thinks of the car his father owned. a black bmw. the memories might not be nice ones, but they need a car and this was the only one he knows by heart. carefully he touches it, checks if everything is alright and when he is sure it is, he wakes up, holding on to it like his life depens on it - which in this case it literally does

just in time to furious shouts he wakes up

the car next to him and he quickly gets in

„i recommend getting in if you don‘t want to you know get murdered by the japanese mafia shitheads“, he says calmly.

„you- you“, kevin tries to say.

jean just gets in the car and forcefully pulls kevin with him

„we have time to talk once we have some miles between these psychopaths and us day, so shut your pretty mouth and get the fuck in“, ronan says.

when the doors are closed ronan goes for it

he obviously does not know how to drive, but this was one of his dreams and his dreams never failed to suprise him

the car goes the moment he puts his foot down on one of the pedals, it doesn‘t have multiply gears, just one and it works

„to make this short: i am a dreamer. that means i can take shit out of my dreams. that‘s why jean and i could play. well, i don‘t know how you two losers surrived so long without me, but i will keep you safe. i don‘t lie. i‘m gay. you are not my type, so don‘t even try to hit on me. if you hurt jean i willl murder you, i don‘t who you are, i don‘t care what you are, hurt my family and die“

„i‘m your family?“, jean said, his voice barley more than a breathe.

ronan doesn‘t have to turn his face around to see the silent tears running down the face of the french boy

once again ronan wonders how jean deserved this life, this beautiful, sarcastic, yet kind soul

„of fucking course asshole, you‘re the only motherfucker who can handle me“, ronan replies.

„okay enough sentimental bullshit and emotions, day where are we going? have we planned that as well?“

„palmetto state, to my father. well he doesn’t know he‘s my father, but i guess he‘ll love two backlliners and a kevin day - second best striker in the united states“

„palmetto state it is. hope they‘re ready for the mafia to come visit to get us“, ronan replied, a small smile on his lips as he thinks about all the new possibilities and hopes he now dared to dream for

[dragon-momther]

I finally watched Descendants 3 and here’s my thoughts no one asked for.

In no particular order.

Unexpectedly long post so uh... read if you want

Emotions! Happy, laughter, sadness, heartfelt. Nothing groundbreaking but a great story of friends and family - the whole series for that matter. Not about where you came from but who you chose to be, whom you choose to love

I still wasnt ready to see Cameron. I cried.

Hades? Best worst dad 10/10. I knew that was gonna be the reveal but I was pleasantly surprised with how nicely they did it. They could have made him cliché 2D evil but they didnt! I didn’t expect to love his character

I love the subtle cues between him and Mal - not just in personality, but the choreography in Do What You Gotta Do, and their costume design! To me it shows that, all along, Mal has been nothing like her mom. Someone else pointed out that Mal’s hair and outfit colors shift to have blue reflecting her becoming more “Hades” which just solidifies this to me

She wanted Maleficent's approval, but Hades’ attention/care (yeah you’re the god of hell but couldn’t you wish me a happy birthday like... once?)

“My attention would have made you softer.” He would have been a doting dad and (as someone else mentioned) he knew that wouldn’t fly on the Isle. She would have gotten eaten alive. He was doing what he thought was best for her.

Hades’ “suffering husband” attitude was hilarious. [Overall I just like the facets they gave his personality!]

Dramatic goth bitch. Don’t roll your eyes, Mal, cause this is clearly where you get it from.

Hades suppressed shock (and dare I say pride) seeing Mal turn into a dragon at the beginning

Oh the “Hi, dad” and little snarky hand wiggle when they reunite. Cheyenne’s portrayal of Hades was great

Hades? Married? To Maleficent? The lore connotations are really funny. Clearly they all have a second parent but Mal happens to be the offspring of the two most powerful beings. (I mean, no shame, Maleficent. You go girl. Marry a god) and also him tolerating her long enough to have a kid

Please tell me Hades is really the one who gave Mal the name Bertha

On that note Ben (and their friends!) takes the knowledge that his fiancée is a demigod extremely chill. Like can you imagine your inlaws are an unfathomably powerful fairy and the fucking Greek god of hell? 

Honeymoon on Olympus anyone?

[I said it D1 and I’ll say it again. Why is a teenager the king? Belle? You don’t need to retire sweetie. You have No Reason to hand over the crown to a boy who hasn’t graduated. Why Are These Children Getting Married]

We were robbed of Fully Powered Mal and I am, for one, offended

Also Ben’s panicked “Hi, Dad.”

Hades! Dad! Just that. That’s it. Wants to make up for the 16 years.  (I wish we saw his reaction to his wife (ex?) being a lizard)

Is there marriage on the Isle?? Officiant??? Who’s moonlighting as an evil wedding planner?! Is there a fantasy disney villain divorce attorney or is Hades just hiding from his wife because he can’t do anything else

Hades noped off underground into a lair no one can find solely to avoid Maleficent, you can’t change my mind

Hades’ staredown of Ben. Protective dad 101 but he can and will kill you and ensure your afterlife sucks if you hurt her

The entire ending was great, esp with all the Hades-Mal reconciliation.

Mal revealing her lineage not just to her friends, but to the world, is fantastic character development. She’s not just telling the whole truth at last (as we saw her struggle with through the whole series) but she’s laying her biggest secret to the world. Completely vulnerable. Her people deserve to know, and it solidifies her point of “you never know where a hero will come from.” Because the product of the two strongest villains became the greatest of all of them. 

Also this finally shows the whole “real” Mal and, as Carlos said, “if [they] don’t love the real you...”

Hey Doug I love you but for the love of the gods please cut your hair

Jarlos painfully, adorably awkward. Help what is flirt?

Harry? 12/10 boy just desperately wants to be loved, someone give him more hugs. 

The subtle gestures with Uma? Iconic. Some of my favorite acts of affection are the little private things. The hugs, the way he holds her when they reunite, the little touches on her arm/shoulder/back. I saw you go to kiss her on the head, Harry. The editors can’t stop me

I haven’t talked about Audrey but she was meh in comparison to all the rest of this stuff. Not a bad character or villain plot, just... there

OST was a hit or miss for me, I didn’t like as many of the songs in D3 as the other two. DWYGD slaps tho. I love the banter

The pirates and VKs becoming friends, Gil getting respect, excuse me while my heart explodes

The costuming continued to slay. BLEASE can I have Mal’s dragon jewelry I’m begging 

I watched it twice. 

Thank you for your time, I’ll be in my silence corner

[ifyouwantsalseo]

@hetaliamondaychallenge July 6: “No matter where I go, my heart will always be yours”

Category: Fanfic. 

Pair: SpAus/AuSpa 

Words: 2.619.

Genre: Historical, Shounen-ai. 

Note(s): this occurs just before the Spanish Sucession War (1701-1714) started, in which France and Austria were the main oponents. 

1700

- What!? Some Frenchmen in the border of Castile don’t allow us to enter!?  

Austria yelled to the informer that had just arrived from a few meters in front. The poor boy lowered his head as his master continued yelling and calling him “fool”. 

That had actually been happening lately. The Austrian nation had been in a quite a bitter mood since the latest Spanish king had passed away and the fresh news from Versailles had arrived to Vienne.  

Everyone in the imperial palace of Hofburg had heard the wrathful yell of the country when he read that France was trying to take over the newly vacant Spanish throne.  A moments later, the most ominous and choleric piano melody had filled the palace, just as Austria’s mood became worse.

How could that dirty French try to take the place that was obviously a Habsburg property!? Austria immediately hastened the preparation for the travel to Spain that has been preparing for weeks –he obviously had thought about visiting his husband after such a loss-, and immediately departed with a bunch of his henchman.

He had took a ship from the Habsburg lands of Toscana and had landed in Barcelona, and now was willing to pass from the Spanish Aragonese provinces to the Castillian ones, in order to reach to Madrid. He had expected getting into Madrid in a couple of days at most, but suddenly the found out that some Frenchmen blocked the way. He frowned just by imagining the reason behind that.

Getting out of the carriage, he proudly stepped in the direction of the previously said Frenchmen while his henchmen tried to suffocate his wrath telling him to relax. He didn’t.

He couldn’t.

- Who in the hell are you, you shameless gits!? We are in a royal amendment, and this is a direct offense to the Austrian crown!

The French looked at each other’s eyes a little bit intimidated by this aristocrat with German accent, but they didn’t freed the way. One of them, anyway, looked at Austria and replied–. We are just following the orders, sir. We aren’t allowed to let any suspicious foreigner group get in.

Austria struggled. – Oh, gosh! This is ridiculous! –he complained. After a moment of saying some unintelligible things in German, he turned back and, even if he already knew the answer, questioned-.  Okay, well. Who has issued the order? –and a moment later, one of them said it.

- It has been directly commanded from son eminence la France.

It was only for a moment, but Austria could have sworn that he noticed how the lenses of his glasses cracked. His eye trembled from the rising stream of pent-up anger and he gritted his teeth.

How dare he!

- I, as the sovereign country of the Austrian Empire, command to have an audience with him right now! Tell him that I’m waiting for him to come or directly get me there now.

After knowing about his true identity the men went white and one of the immediately offered Austria a horse, implying that he would be the only one that could pass. Austria didn’t mind it at all.

In the end that was only between him and France.

{ . . . }

A three or four hours later he found himself entering in a powerful castle well defended and guarded. Even if he was all exhausted from the travel, he did still maintain his distinctive attitude and typical high chin when he entered the castle. He listened at how his presence was released to someone –even if he could easily know to who- a few moments before breaking into the main room.

He had never hated so much that presumptuous Frenchie face before this time. France’s eyes had an ironic sparkle, as if he were mocking him with his eyes.

- What an unexpected visit, mon ami. What could I do for you?

- Don’t give me that shit, you fool! –he couldn’t do anything but explode-. What do you think you’re doing in Spanish territory? –France’s eyes twinkled.

- You know pretty well the reason why, little one.

Austria wandered, snorting. – Rubbish. The reasons that defend the putting of a French king on the Spanish throne are only the ravings of a dying man; they don’t make any real justification.

- A dying man that happened to be the latest king. –whispered, with a victorious grin-. Get over it, Austria. Charles preferred Philip and the Bourbons over your old fashioned Habsburgs. And I bet Spain will corroborate it when I am accepted in his court and his be-

- Don’t you dare to say another obscenity like that about my spouse! I swear to God I’m not going to go easy on you if you start a war over him.

Right after hearing that, France stopped at stared at the fire of the hearth. Austria stopped too, confused.

France suddenly looked very strong, very serious and very threatening. He remained quiet for a long moment, scratching the surface of the wooden table next to him.

Then, he spoke.

- I was willing to speak about that with you, my old friend. –he said, and suddenly he directed his blue eyed serious gaze to him-. I was wondering if you could consider giving up on him without a war, Austria.

And then the time froze.

- ... What?

France didn’t look surprised about the obvious shock on the other’s face. he went on speaking. – I’m asking you to not declare war against me or Spain when the change of dynasty becomes official. –he said, suddenly looking even more dark and dangerous-.  Spain has always been one of my objectives, plus now he is much more attractive as a country, you know? He has the complete monopoly of the silver and gold trade, and he has extended his influence and power all over the Indies. Just think about it. Spain has always been my target just by being himself, he currently has the most powerful empire of the world and, now, the throne, the place that has been occupied by you for nearly 200 years, is reachable. I cannot let this divine situation scape, and I'm more than willing to sacrifice anything to get it. What’s more, I’m eager to do it.

The other was in complete amazement, completely gone even if he continued hearing the ominous talk of this son of disgrace that apparently was willing to die in order of stealing his husband. He couldn’t think a response. He had gone blank.

Say no to war? Let the affair pass and only look when another country –and another man- takes which has been their belonging, Habsburg’s, since the beginning?

He couldn’t find a way of expressing his emerging anger and hatred that didn’t imply him strangulating the blonde. – You bastard!! –he cried, facing him with the hellfire in his eyes-. You can’t be serious.

France did not react. He just sighed and moved to take a coup of Jerez that was on the table. He looked so relaxed Austria couldn’t help but hate him more and more.

But when he was going to go and insult him more, the sound of the great entry doors opening broke the atmosphere. A servant appeared, looking between the direction of the door and France with a jittery look on his face. France didn’t understand immediately, just like him, but was all cleared up when a cozy voice sounded:

- France, are you there? I’ve been told you’ve come to Spain but I didn’t expec-

And suddenly the brunette head of the host country appeared, stopping his way as shocked as them when he saw them.

He needed from a few seconds to understand the situation before laughing in a friendly way.

- Oh, isn’t this Austria? What a nice surprise! I didn’t know you two were this close. –he smiled, getting close to his best friend since childhood and his husband.

Austria came out of his stupor just to worthily say. – I don’t recall having any kind of relation with such a vulgar man. –while crossing his arms. France came back right after, uncomfortably laughing while smiling at his beloved friend.

- Oh, Spain. I didn’t expect you too…

- Of course I had to come! I’m the host here and I didn’t even know you were here till a few hours ago…! 

Austria palmed his face. His idiotic mate didn’t even know that this coming from a rival country was supposed to be considered something as an invasion. Only someone as oblivious as Spain could still consider himself a simple host after this. 

Anyway, Spain continued rambling. - ... It’s been so sudden that I’ve come right after knowing it. Just imagine: Romano has started insulting and shouting to me calling me untrue and bastard for leaving him alone so suddenly! He was simply sooo cute…!

Then he carelessly sat next to both of them, like if he didn’t notice the tense situation. France looked like if he were having a hard time and Austria felt complicated. He suddenly couldn’t think right, and he thought that this might have been due to the handsome young man that sat right there in front of him.

He hadn’t seen Spain since months, maybe a complete year ago. This moment, anyway, had caught him off guard. He hadn’t been emotionally ready to face him this early, in this situation, with the unwanted French presence as a plus.

They had been married exactly for 184 years.

Still, Austria managed to fell in love with him more and more every time they met. His heart still exploded like a maiden’s. 

A few moments later, the friendly chat carried by the Spaniard died and Spain looked at them, suddenly quite serious. 

He looked concerned. – What’s wrong?

France was going to say something, but Austria didn’t want to hear more of his poisonous talk. He felt sick just standing there, in front of the supposed enemy, pretending that the phantom of the incoming war wasn’t there. So he just spoke faster. – I just feel a little bit tired this night. –he said, looking right to the blue eyed man-. I would like to retire to my rooms, if it is not a nuisance, of course.

France maintained a neutral gesture, as if he didn't want anyone to read him. – Of course it isn’t a nuisance, you’re my invité after all. I’ll ask my servants to prepare two room-

- Oh! Don’t bother, France. It’ll be only one room. –interrupted Spain, with a lovely smile. Both, Austria and France froze a little, even if the following was just natural-. We’re married after all.

The Austrian’s cheeks painted in pale pink and the French’s face got tense. It was a brief silence before the French said. - D’accord, I’ll get it ready in a moment. –and commanded it to his servants.

A few moments later, when the other two were being lead to his rooms, France sat and drank again. He was burning with jealously, but couldn’t do anything yet. 

- Just a little more, France... -he said to himself.

{ . . . }

Like that, Austria and Spain end up preparing to sleep in the same room. They were evolved in a rough silence, something floating in the air that they weren’t ready to reach. Austria knew that Spain wasn’t actually an idiot. He had known the worst part of him too. So he knew he wasn’t completely oblivious right now either.

At first, the marriage was just a simple political alliance and didn’t meant anything but security to them. Austria knew since the beginning that Spain was going to be loyal to their dynasty, because that was the kind of guy he was –just the opposite of men like France or Scotland-. So Austria had taken their marriage as something not particularly bad; he had also been in a good relationship with him, too.

As told before, Austria still managed to fell in love with this guy over and over again, because even if dangerous, he was the loveliest and most charming person he had had the pleasure to meet before.

But eventually, knowing each other, playing music together, protecting each other’s back during the wars with France, England or the United Provinces of the Netherlands… Eventually the mutual care became stronger and they end up falling for each other and making love. Like a couple. Like mates. 

The ring on their fingers had never meant so much before.

- Austria, talk to me.

He raised his head in the direction of the sweet voice calling his name. The green eyes greeting him were clearly tired till the deepest of his soul. Austria couldn’t handle it.

- What are you going to do?

The sudden question didn’t surprise Spain. They stared at each other for a long moment before he formed an answer.

- Now, for the first time in my life, I’m not going to do anything as an individual. –he sentenced.

Austria blinked. – What do you mean? –and the brunette sighed, passing a hand through his own hair.

He sounded restless. – I mean that my person, the personification of Spain, is going to stay aside this time.

The Austrian held his breath, feeling the sensation of betrayal running through his veins. – I can’t believe it. Are you demented!? He’s trying to destroy our dynasty and our…!

- It’s just much complicated than that! –the sudden explosion of voice came out like a thunder. Austria stared impressed at his husband, who was holding to his ring while staring at the fire of the candle. He seemed in pain-. This is not just going to be a war in Europe. Is also going to be a civil war for me. Castilians prefer the French and the people from Aragon and Catalonia want to defend the Habsburgs. Now the king has died my government is just a mess and I can’t afford to mind personal matters like my personal feelings. I can’t choose between my people so I can’t choose any of you either. That’s why I’m going to stay out of this.

The other listened to everything with a complicated look in his face.

He was seeing it coming, the departure. The Goodbye. He was having a hunch, or some kind of sensation that was so incredibly painful that was destroying him from the insides.  

But after focusing his violet eyes in the commonly cheerful face of his man, he knew it wasn’t the time for being a pathetic cry-baby. He was the Austrian Empire after all, and this was his all beloved companion in the top of the world. He smiled at the resolution.

He took out his glasses and took the Spanish hand.

- I understood. Don’t you worry anymore.

Green eyes looked back at him, with a soft smile.

- I didn’t even remember how beautiful you were, Austria. –he said reaching his hand and kissing the palm-. I suppose I haven’t been fulfilling my duty as your partner lately and nearly forgot that I’m entirely yours.

Austria’s heart puffed, while a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

- It’s okay if you understand it. –whispered, while taking the opportunity to return the previous display of affection in the other’s hand. Spain stroked his cheek in return, and Austria let it be.

They stayed like this for a long moment, and, then, Spain murmured something.

“No matter where I go, my heart will always be yours” –he had said.

After that, they made love countless times. Roughly, lovely, relaxed and passionately. They knew all about each other, and Austria hoped France could have heard the proof of their mutual love from somewhere in the castle.

When they finished, and Spain finally fell asleep, Austria still stayed awake trying to burn in his memory the scene in front of him. 

He undoubtedly knew this wasn’t probably happening again in a while. But he didn’t mind at all. Spain had said he would always be true. That gave him the strength of a full army.

Anyway, then, he had only one thing in mind when he was passing his fingers through his brown hair.

He was going to destroy that condemned Frenchman and take back what belonged to him.

[ohshcscenerios]

Scenario: 

You sit on a velvet couch cushion holding a warm cup of fragrant tea in your lap. The Host Club is in full swing before you; hosts dazzling their guests with charming smiles, striking up idle chatter, and wooing them with empty compliments. The guests all swoon under their spell, convincing themselves they are their host’s one and only, all except for one.

Your boyfriend is seated beside you, close enough to feel his elbow brush against your arm. You enjoy the physical contact but a guest seated to your right would beg to differ. Ever since you and your boyfriend announced your relationship you’ve noticed one particular guest giving you rude side glances and nasty scowls. You know she is jealous but since she hasn’t acted on her jealousy you let her be. So far she has been harmless, a frowning face in the crowd, but today that would change.

The guest to your right clears her throat, attempting to steal your attention.

“Excuse me, Y/N.” She says. “You might want to head off soon. The afternoon train waits for no one and you don’t want to miss it.”

You stare at her, confused and a little taken back by her bluntness. You weren’t prepared for her comment and now you scramble for a response, rendered speechless.

‘Should I respond?’ You ask yourself.

You feel your boyfriend shifting in his seat and you realize her comment also made him uncomfortable. You know him well, better than he would care to admit, and you know her comment isn’t settling well with him. He prepares to defend you.

Tamaki Suoh:

“Excuse me dear, but what do you mean by that?” He asks, his princely voice shading his annoyance – for now.

The guest shrugs her shoulder nonchalantly, “I am just reminding the commoner of the finicky train schedule. It would be embarrassing to miss the last train home.”

Tamaki’s eyebrows furrow together, his patience running thin for the shrew.

“My lady I would prefer if you didn’t refer to Y/N as a lowly commoner.”

You want to roll your eyes at which insult Tamaki chooses to address. Of course he would tackle the name calling before touching the obvious insults.

The guest frowns, not pleased to see her favorite host defending you. “I addressed her properly. Is it not fact that she is a commoner? My goodness Tamaki, to think you would be attracted to such novelties.”

Her blatant mockery broke Tamaki’s composure. He pushed himself of the couch to stand directly in front the guest. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the doors.

“I will not allow Y/N to tolerate this abuse. It’s a shame, for such a pretty face you are ugly on in the inside. Now be a good girl and disappear. You are no longer a guest in our Host Club.”

The guest looks at you, tears forming in her angry eyes, and jumps from her chair racing towards the doors. She disappears into the hallway, never to be seen by you again.

Tamaki returns to his seat beside you and cradles your hands while capturing your eyes within his azure blues.

“I’m terribly sorry you had to hear such vile, my love. Stay as long as you care to, I enjoy having you near me.” With that he brings your right hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss on your dorsal. His lips are gentle and tender, just like his love for you, and you are eternally grateful for the fire underneath his passion.

Kyoya Ootori:

Kyoya veers a side glance towards the guest and you recognize the flicker in his eyes. She has regrettably summoned the Shadow King.

“Such a bold statement coming from you, madam.” He says cooly.

The guest tilts her head to the side, her lips twisting into a frown. “What do you mean by that?” She asks.

“I mean to say you shouldn’t throw out petty insults like that, considering your situation.” Kyoya replies. His teasing voice tells you he will have fun exploiting the guest. After all, there’s a world of secrets hidden in his black book and no one is safe from its treachery.

Kyoya turns to face her and the guest’s eyes widen at the trace of disgust written across his expression.

“My situation? I’ll have you know I am –.”

“The heiress to a dying paper mill, yes I know all about you.” Kyoya interrupts her without hesitation.

The guest stumbles over herself, clearly shocked by Kyoya’s unforeseen knowledge about her family’s personal matters. She attempts to regain herself, maybe even rebuild her pride, as she turns to face you.

“Even so, I am still better off than this commoner. Unlike her I don’t have to rely on sleazy public transportation. My father may be hitting hard times but I still rank higher than her. I don’t understand how an intellectual like yourself would bother with such a lowly person.”

“Is that so?” Kyoya questions sarcastically.

Your face is burning with anger. You want to say something in your defense but your tongue is tied up, adrenalin stilling your words.

Suddenly you feel Kyoya’s lips press into your cheek. His kiss is soft, sweet even, and your eyes widen at his affection. The guest’s eyes widen too and you connect in your mind that Kyoya is taunting her.

“It appears you have no interest in proving yourself to anyone but me. So I say to you now, no one ranks higher than Y/N. To me you are merely wasted potential, a stain in the elite. Your wealth and status cannot hide your ugliness and for that this commoner stands on your head.”

The guest bursts into tears and runs out of the club, her face buried in her palms.

You glance up at Kyoya and see his temper hasn’t died down yet. You grab his hand and gently run your thumb into his palm. His dark eyes meet yours and instantly they soften. Even his scowl turns into a slight smile, filling you with a sense of pride that you of all people can tame the Shadow King.

Hikaru Hitachiin:

Hikaru sizes the guests with skeptical eyes, starting from her scuffed dress shoes to her ruffled collar. His love for fashion would tempt him to offer her a make-over but he doesn’t. He is tempted to offer her something else instead.

“How about you get on the afternoon train yourself.” He says, his anger quickly boiling to a dangerous level. You love Hikaru but his short fuse always gets the best of him. He doesn’t know where to draw the line until it’s too late.

She stammers off, “Excuse me? I will not step foot in such a dirty, disgusting, trashy –.”

“The only dirty, disgusting, trashy thing here is you.” Hikaru barks.

You feel his arm muscles tighten beside you and you move your hand over his forearm, hoping it would be enough to calm him down. You appreciate him wanting to defend you but you don’t want to scare off the other guests.

“Hikaru, it’s alright. Just ignore her.” You plead.

“How can I ignore her? Her dress is a wrinkled mess. She has hideous split ends. Even her shoes are scratched up.” Hikaru rolls his eyes, somewhat proud of his fashion analysis.

“How dare you! At least I look better than that commoner!” She shouts, pointing a lone finger directly at you. “I can have these menial mistakes fixed within the hour while your girlfriend would have to scrub floors for a month to afford the same treatments. Honestly Hikaru, what do you even see in her?”

Her poisonous words hit you in the chest and you feel you’ve had enough of this guest. You want to say something but your thoughts won’t come out. Your tongue feels frozen in place.

“Y/N has never scrubbed floors before nor will she ever need to, not with me. She may not be rich like you but her character is worth more than all the money in your tiny pockets. Whatever you have in your wallet won’t fix your disgusting attitude. Now leave before I really lose my temper.” Hikaru practically yells.

The guest scrambles from her seat and leaves immediately, trying to hide her embarrassment but failing. Her blush is too obvious as she races through the doors.

“What a drama queen.” Hikaru teases. He swings his arm over your head and pulls you into his side. He wants to draw you near so he feels like he has protected you. You allow him this, mentally noting to talk to him after hosting hours about raising our voices.

Kaoru Hitachiin:

Kaoru whips his attention to the guest but unlike his twin brother he is able to hide his distain behind a cool expression. You, however, know better since his hand finds yours and clutches it tightly.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say. Why don’t you apologize to Y/N and we’ll move on from this.” He says with a smile. You pray the guest will accept his offer but to your dismay she frowns instead.

“Why should I apologize to the commoner? I am merely suggesting she catches her… erm… ride before she’s left stranded.”

Kaoru’s smile waivers and slowly his lips fall into a frown. He swings his arm around your shoulder and sways your body with his.

“Y/N wouldn’t be stranded but thank you for your concern.” He says, his sarcastic voice hinting at his annoyance.

The guest rolls her eyes. “You shouldn’t bother yourself with her. She’s made it this far in life without limousine rides and fancy dinners. Let her be, Kaoru. You’re playing with a kitten without a pedigree.”

Kaoru raises his eyebrows at her brave maliciousness. You and Kaoru know that once in a while a narcissistic queen flows in with the crowd. It’s usually up to the host to throw them out before too much damage is done. By the glimmer in Kaoru’s eye you figure he thought of a solution.

He gently takes the cup of tea from your lap and pretends to bring it to his lips before turning and splashing the tea onto the guest. She yelps in surprise, watching the tea stain her yellow uniform.

“Kaoru!” She cried.

“Oops,” he said with a mischievous grin, “I suppose my hand slipped. I hope you have a spare uniform somewhere.”

The guest shakes her head as tears cascade from her eyes. Completely humiliated she darts into the hallway.

Kaoru pulls you close and whispers into your ear, “I don’t care what anyone says... You’re my kitten, pedigree or not.”

Mitsukuni Haninozuka:

Hunny pauses his fork between his lips and slowly scrapes the piece of cake into his mouth as he hears the guest talk rudely towards you. You see his large brown eyes lose an ounce of their shine; a dangerous occurrence to notice.

“Y/N-chan is going to ride home with today so there’s no need for her to catch the train.” Hunny says, forking another bite of cake.

The guest sneers, “Why is she going to your home?”

Hunny swallows his bite of confection and looks at the guest, innocently saying, “To eat cake! Y/N-chan and I love to eat cake together, don’t we?” He turns to you searching for your reaction.

You happily nod your head. You do love eating cake with Hunny. It’s humanly impossible for you to consume as much cake as he does but you enjoy each other’s company all the same.

“No,” the guest says, “I mean why would you allow such filth into your home? The Haninozuka family is a prestigious name. Your father must disapprove of allowing a commoner into your home.”

Hunny places his fork beside his plate and puts a cloth napkin to his mouth, wiping away the crumbs of cake and frosting. His movement is careful and slow, very unlike Hunny, until you realize it isn’t the cheerful Hunny you’ve grown to love adore seated next to you.

“I suggest you stop talking,” Dark Hunny presses.

The guest seems stunned to see her favorite Lolita host suddenly turn so dark and serious. You have seen Dark Hunny a handful of times, mostly when bullies threatened his friends or during karate training. However you’ve never seen Dark Hunny appear to defend you. You feel a gush of pride thinking about Japan’s most skilled karate master standing up on your behalf.

Hunny flashes his darkened brown eyes at the guest and she gasps nervously.

“Leave.” Hunny orders.

The trembling guest slowly stands from her chair and walks out of the club.

“Y/N-chan, would you like some cake?” Hunny asks, masking his dark side once again. You nod and accept his forkful of chocolate cake. Ah yes, Hunny also enjoys feeding you cake.

Takashi Morinozuka:

Mori looks at the guest, his emotions hidden perfectly behind his stoic face, but you can see the anger building in his steely grays. His protective nature has never tolerated bullies and nay-sayers, especially when it concerned you. Though Mori was never a man to turn to violence or scare tactics the language he spoke with his eyes could do as much damage. No one wanted to go face to face with Mori because without him saying a word he would reign victorious in the end.

“Did you hear me, commoner? Your train is going to leave without you. Come one, hurry up. Let Mori-senpai entertain his real guests.” The guest tries to shoo you away with her hand. A classless move, really.

Suddenly you feel two large hands slide underneath your knees and across your back. You look up at Mori as he lifts you into his arms and holds you close to his broad chest.

“Takashi, what are you doing?” You ask, reaching for his shirt collar to keep balance.

Mori doesn’t respond with words but looks into your eyes, willing you to understand his motives. You see it nestled in his gray eyes, the need to protect you and keep you happy. He has always prioritized in keeping you safe and happy.

He carries you into the kitchenette and closes the door behind him. He slides his back down the wall until he’s seated on the floor with you still in his arms.

“Takashi…” You whisper, “Thank you.”

He kisses your forehead and rests his chin on top of your head.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He says quietly, as if he were to blame for the guest’s rude comments. His self-inflicted guilt speaks of how much he loves you. He so wishes to be that barrier between you and the unforgiving world. Whatever he can bear on your behalf he will.

You shake your head and position yourself to kiss him. Your lips brush against his which he reciprocates, pressing into the kiss. In this moment the world melts away, leaving you and Mori tangled in each other.

When he pulls away he rests his forehead against yours and whispers, “I’m glad you don’t take the train anymore.”

You chuckle. “So do I Takashi. So do I.”

I’m sorry for the lame gifs, this story made it difficult to choose the appropriate reaction. I hope you enjoy! If you have a suggestion/prompt let me know!

[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 18

Chapter Eighteen: The Roman Gods visit and Ares returns

.

One day the Olympians were sitting at breakfast, when Iris came in with a piece of papyrus.

“Your Majesty”, she addressed Zeus, “The Italic gods have announced their visit. They will come next month and they're not taking no for an answer.”

Zeus retained his genial smile, but the sky outside grew dark with storm clouds.

“Also”, Iris added, “The sons of Mars have founded Roma – or rather, Romulus did¹. Looks like this new city is populated by fugitive criminals and other refugees. And they're already starting military campaigns to take over the rest of Italy.”

The King of the Gods grit his teeth: “It's only been a few mortal centuries, since Aphrodite's son Aineías arrived in Italy and the gods and mortals there are already getting dangerously ambitious, aren't they?”

.

“Iupiter, Iuno and all the others! Welcome to Olympos!”, Zeus welcomed the Italic-now-Roman gods.

“Gratias ago²”, Iupiter replied tonelessly and let one of the servants help him out of his chlamys.

“It's a joy to see you all”, Zeus lied, “I hope you had a nice journey. How are you doing?”

Before Iupiter or one of the others could answer, Mars (Ares' Roman colleague) scoffed: “Don't slip on your slime trail, Olympian!”

The Olympians all were offended and glowered at him.

Iupiter saw himself forced to rein his stepson³ in: “Mars, hold your tongue. We are guests here and you have to be respectful to your host. Besides …”

The leader of the Roman gods whispered something in the war god's ear and Mars smirked.

Iupiter turned back to Zeus: “Do forgive my son's behaviour. He has been so proud of his descendants lately, sometimes he forgets his manners.”

“It's forgiven”, the King of the Olympians lied.

Nothing was forgiven, but no one wanted to start an argument.

Athena fumed at the disrespect towards her father and couldn't help throwing death glares at Mars.

By Khaos, I wish Ares was back!

Over the next hours the atmosphere on Olympos was so tense, you could have cut it with a knife.

Athena was not willing to let go the treatment of Zeus by the Romans.

For her father's sake, she was polite to them, but inside her anger was rising and she was plotting how to kick Mars' sorry arse without breaking the laws of hospitality.

She also really disliked Minerva. Her Roman counterpart seemed to be copying Athena in her mannerisms, while at the same time being pettier and crueller than Athena actually was.

The other Romans were behaving politely, but there was something about them, that put the goddess of wisdom even more on edge than she already was.

Like they were plotting something.

They're getting ambitious, her father had said a month before. And he seemed tense – nervous, even. Zeus was precognitive – whatever they were plotting, he had to know.

What do they want?, Athena wondered.

.

After eating and drinking in moderation, their guests announced, that they wanted to discuss international politics.

The Italic-now-Roman gods were given the thrones the Olympians always kept for their foreign guests.

Zeus called not only the Olympians, but every single one of the important gods, even of the Theoi Khthonoi.

Once all gods were assembled, Hermes announced: “Present gods, goddesses and others, both Hellenic and foreign – the council meeting to discuss the future relations between Hellas and Roma is hereby opened! Everybody take their seats!”

Everyone sat, except for Hermes himself, who stood next to his father's throne as his herald.

After Zeus opened the council meeting with his mandatory speech, he asked the Roman gods to elaborate on what they wanted here.

It was Iupiter, who stood and spoke: “Our esteemed colleagues. We are here, because we couldn't help but notice, that there has been a change in your correspondence with us in the last centuries.”

“The tone in your letters to us has changed”, Mars clarified and glared at the Olympians. “You have grown rather condescending. Whoever is doing your correspondence now-”

“That's me”, Athena spoke up.

Mars' eyes narrowed. “You do the correspondence? Where is Ares?”

What he really meant was obvious: a woman was performing the duties of Zeus' heir?

Minerva, who was standing next to Mars, must have heard the underlying statement too and elbowed him slightly.

Athena took a deep breath, before answering: “Ares is not here. As for the correspondence, would you be so kind as to enlighten me what you found so condescending about my responses? I thought I was being nothing but polite and respectful.”

Now it was Roma (the goddess of the newfound city), who replied: “You can't expect a city, that has just been founded to already have a fully developed culture and set of traditions. Each and every one of your letters had that certain tone, which comes from someone who thinks their culture is superior in every way and that everyone else is a bunch of savages.”

Athena started at her. “How dare you! Such an accusation! I would never-”

Mars interrupted her: “We are willing to overlook this, under the condition, that you apologise-”

“What is this?”, Hera shouted suddenly and jumped up. “You just founded one new city (and one composed of criminals and fugitives at that!), the sons of Mars are distant descendants of one of us on their mother's side, you're already in political trouble and yet you act like you're better than anyone else and like everybody should do what you want? We Hellenes might be arrogant, but at least we mind our own business! Athens is inventing democracy, Sparta is a military power, we have great writers already and the Cretans invented ironmaking many centuries ago. While you people-” angrily she pointed at the Roman gods, “-are making your culture by stealing from others, robbed the daughters of other Latin tribes, because you had no female population and you're subduing the gods of the surrounding areas! You haven't even appointed a god of music yet! What do you have to show for your attitude?!”

“Hera, hold your tongue-”, Zeus began, but it was too late.

Mars was already standing up. With a seemingly relaxed grin, he strode up to the Queen of the Olympians, until he stood right in front of her.

Everything about him screamed danger and Athena instinctively went for her sword.

“What we have to show?”, Mars sneered. “The future, Queen. A glorious future. One day, everything from Palmyra to Britannia will belong to us – and us alone. The Mediterranean Sea will be our sea and all nations around it (yours too) will be our provinces. As for our want of a music god, we can easily fix that. For that I will gladly wait a few hundred years. What are a handful centuries to someone, who lives forever, am I right?”

“Don't be so cocky, Mars!”, A new voice spoke up, “Wait a few centuries more than that and your empire will break apart again. That's what empires do – they rise and fall.”

Everyone looked around to see who had spoken.

Athena was the first to spy him and she would rather have cut her tongue off, before admitting that her heart maybe leaped just a little: there, on a column beside the entrance leaned her long-absent half-brother, obviously enjoying how everyone was suddenly staring at him.

Ares smirked: “Ya guys just can't live without me for long, can ya?”

.

Aphrodite cried out in delight and immediately glomped her long-absent boyfriend.

Ares chuckled fondly, but wound himself out of her embrace. “I missed ya too, gorgeous, but we gotta postpone it for now. Sorry.”

The goddess of love pouted, but let go.

Zeus stood up to greet his son. “My son! Welcome back! It's so good to have you back again. And your timing is perfect too.”

“I can tell!”, the war god laughed. “I heard about this conference and decided to come back a little earlier. But it's good to be back – even with those guys around”, he added with slightly less warmth and his smile vanished.

Then he walked up to the Roman gods.

“So you call yourselves Roman now. Loki told me, when I was in Asgard. Salve⁴, Iupiter”, he greeted their leader with reserve, before walking down the row. “Salve, Iuno. Minerva and Diana. Venus and Ceres. Mercurius, Neptunus and Vulcanus. Vesta’s stayed home, I see. And you must be Roma – it's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face, I've heard of you.”

Roma replied: “The pleasure is mine. Father told me about you as well.”

“Ah yes. Your father.”

Ares' red eyes grew cold, when he faced his colleague. “So we meet again, Mars. What gives my family and now me the dubious honour?”

“You didn't hear that part, then?”, Mars replied coolly.

“Nope. Just arrived.”

“It was Athena's lack of tact in her correspondence with us.”

“Again”, Athena piped up, “I don't understand what was so tactless about it.”

Ares intervened: “There is a solution to that problem. Come on, everyone …”

He strode across the hall and sat on his throne, which had been vacant for almost 400 mortal years. “Now it's time for politics.”

.

Ares was actually positively surprised, when he was told what the matter was.

As it turned out, it had just been a cultural misunderstanding.

“You must understand”, he told the Roman gods. “Athena doesn't mean any harm or offence. She's not naturally tactless or arrogant, but you see … she's a homebody, our goddess of wisdom. She's never left Hellas before, except for the International High Council, during which she never really interacted with foreign gods, except for the Egyptians and the ones of the Middle East. This was the first time she was actually tasked with international affairs and she couldn't know about all the cultural differences. Maybe she assumed, that yours is like ours, because so many of your mortal kind descended from Trojans or Hellenes.”

“I did”, Athena admitted shamefully.

Ares went on: “These things just happen, when you interact with a strange culture for the first time. Remember how I acted during our first meeting? I admit, my own memory is a bit rusty on that one, but didn't I say something about Minerva being a petty little pipsqueak and Mars being a tight-ass, after Mars called me an 'illiterate psychopath'?”

Some of the Roman gods chuckled at the memory.

The war god finished his speech: “But I learned my lesson after interacting with you more and I know Athena will learn hers too. This won't happen again. For this once, cut her some slack and don't begrudge her social awkwardness. She just needs to get out a little more. These cultural miscommunications happen all the time – speaking from experience. After all, I did just come back from a world journey, on which I encountered people I never actually met before. Lots of awkward moments, I can tell you!”

More laughter on the Roman side.

Knowing that the waters were now soothed, Zeus entertained the Roman gods for just a bit longer, before they decided, that all matters were resolved and left Olympos.

After them, the non-Olympian gods also went home.

As soon as the Olympian gates closed behind all of them, Ares sighed in relief.

That was kinda close!

He just about got to finish the thought, before Aphrodite was all over him again and covering his face in kisses. Within seconds the other Olympians were also there and hugging their newly-returned member (except for Athena, Ares noticed – but she did look, like she wanted to).

Dionysos grinned up to his oldest half-brother: “Can we finally celebrate, that you're back? I already have the biggest party in millennia planned out!”

“I can't wait for it!”, Ares laughed. “I missed your parties and your wine, you have no idea!”

Then there was some more chatter and laughter, before Zeus backed off and cleared his throat.

“My dear family”, he began, “After almost four hundred mortal years of absence, my son has finally come home again. So it's only right, that we should celebrate it with all splendour and honour. Ares …”

Alright, maybe the war god got a little misty-eyed, when his father gave him that special warm smile, which he got so rarely to see.

“Welcome home, my dear son.”

And maybe Ares grinned like an idiot, when he gave his father a big hug.

“Thanks, father”, he whispered to the other.

“Blegh! I'm going to puke!”

Shut up, man, I'm having a moment!

The voice in his head shut up and now Ares could finally concentrate on the moment completely.

.

---

.

1) According to tradition Rome was founded in 753 BCE, this chapter is set around 700 BCE. 2) Latin for "Thanks". 3) Iuno conceived Mars by touching (or eating, depending on the version) a magical flower, upon the advice of the goddess Flora, when she complained about Iupiter conceiving Minerva without a mother. Thus he's not Iupiter's biological son. 4) Latin for "Hello". "Salve" is used, when talking to one person, the plural is "Salvete". Another, usually more formal greeting formula is "Ave" ("Greetings").

[3mmafr0st]

Truth or Dare

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Requests: 39 for Steve from Stranger Things? and Steve Harrington for 34?Word Count: 2679 Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex (Please don’t do this, wrap it up people), Oral (female receiving)

Take a look at my MASTERLIST

Everything changed when he decided to try for a job here. The- rental store was my safe haven for the longest time, a place away from the pain of school and home life. But everything changed when the former king of Hawkins High decided that my place of work would now also be his. Ever since I had that one math class with him in junior year, I had the biggest burning hatred of this guy, with his perfect hair and the cocky attitude. He walked into the store with Robin, which was very surprising, I didn’t even know they were friends. Robin was more part of my crowd, the overzealous drama geek who wanted to make it big, so Steve “The Hair” Harrington hanging out with her was a shock for everyone involved. The two of them walked in and somehow got the job. 

Then something changed. Maybe it was something over the summer, or this new found friendship with Robin Buckley, but he wasn’t Steve “The Hair” Harrington anymore. He was just Steve, the funny goofball that was extremely clumsy, that got food in his hair. He always knew how to make you laugh, with his corny jokes and bits that he came up with on the spot. 

Slowly, I fell for the guy that I once hated so much. He was always so sweet and kind, with that hint of sass.We became friends, well, work friends, and it was nice. For a while I thought I lost my favorite place, but really, it just made it better. 

“Hey Y/N, a few friends of mine are having a little party, and I was wondering if maybe, you would want to come with me?” Steve said. I turned around and looked at him funny.

“Really, you want me, Y/N Y/L/N, to go with you, Steve Harrington, to a party?” I asked. Honestly it was so strange, because I didn’t really think that I was that important to him. “I mean, wouldn’t I like, embarrass you in front of your friends or something?”

‘That is so untrue that it hurts, Y/N. Please come? I really want you to be there, and hey, it could be fun.” He looked so sincere, so perfectly kind, that I just couldn’t say no. 

“Ok, Steve, I’ll go,” I said. His face lit up as I said that, and my heart melted. I hated that I felt like this, and yet loved it at the same time. 

“Yes! I’ll pick you up after your shift, ok?” I nodded and we both got back to work, cataloging the new shipment of VCR tapes and figuring out what I was going to wear. 

I was lucky enough that my friend was free, so she delivered me a good change of clothes, a nice shirt that I had bought and a pretty black pleated skirt, like a schoolgirl would wear. 

Steve pulled up in his car, which was yellow, and the licence plate said todfather for some reason. It was a beautiful car, but I couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the license plate.

“Todfather, huh?”

“Hey! I got this car from Chief Hopper himself before he went missing!” He said, and I looked at him, he was a bit squirmy when he said that, like he knew something that I didn’t.  I ignored it and got into the passenger seat of the car.  Steve looked me up and down before making his way to my face. 

“You look really nice.” I blushed in response, and I tried to think of something witty to respond with, but my brain could only come up with absolute garbage.

“You too, “ I said, and then immediately mentally smacked myself in the face. 

The two of us drove out to a house near the woods.  It was small but I liked it a lot. Steve stopped the car and got out of the car. I tried to open the door, but it was closed abruptly, before he went around the car quickly and opened the door for me. I giggled a bit at how hard he was trying to be sweet. Then it hit me. Was this a date? Like, were we going together, together, or just as friends. It’s not like I could ask him anyway, that would just be way too weird. We both walked up to the door of the house, and he knocked on the door. The door opened and we were met with Jonathan Byers of all people. 

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right? Steve’s told us about you,” He said, and let the two of us in. 

“Didn’t you get beaten by him in your junior year?” I whispered into Steve’s ear. 

“Yeah, that was like two years ago, we’re friends now.”

We walked into the living room to see Nancy Wheeler, Robin, and a girl that I didn’t recognize, probably someone that Robin brought with her. I smiled and waved, and Steve went into the kitchen to grab some beers. I chatted a little bit, trying to talk about something, anything, really, until Steve came back from the other room with Jonathan, each of them holding a six pack of beer in each hand. Steve took two out of the case in his left hand and gave me one. I cracked it open and took a long sip. It tasted like garbage but it would do, and at least let me get through tonight. 

After everyone had finished off the beers, we were all passing around a bottle of whiskey that we found, talking and laughing, until Robin had this so called brilliant idea. 

“Hey! Everyone get in here, we’re playing truth or dare,” she yelled, waving her arms around. We all sat ourselves in a circle, with me in between Steve and Robin. 

The game was slow, and weird, with drunken confessions of giant psychic powers made of exploded human, and fighting this thing off with fireworks in the old Starcourt mall. After all those weird lies, it took a weird turn. At this point in the game, it was my turn to answer, and I was absolutely terrified. 

“Dare” I told Nancy, and she rubbed her hands together menacingly like a cartoon villain. 

“You have to sit on Steve’s lap for the rest of the game.” Steve shot death glares at Nancy, but I was honestly too drunk to care about anything anymore, but not like, so drunk that I couldn’t understand what was going on. I knew that this was going to be a little weird, but after the beers, nothing could really make me embarrassed. I moved over and sat myself down on his lap, wiggling a bit to make myself comfortable. I threw it over to Jonathan and watched as he had to pretend he was a chicken, which was severely entertaining. Then it went back to Steve, and, like a wimp, chose truth. 

“If you had to choose anyone in Hawkins to sleep with right now, who would it be?” Jonathan asked, giving him a look. Steve was so visibly uncomfortable that I wanted to just hug him and tell him that it was all ok, but I didn’t think that that was appropriate at the time. His face was bright red and he was so nervous.

“Well come on, Steve, no one’s going to make fun of you”

“Don’t be so sure of that, Y/N. I am always going to make fun of Daddy Steve no matter what,” Robin said, laughing her ass off. 

“Daddy?” I said, wiggling my eyebrows at him. 

“It’s a thing I called myself once and now Robin can’t let it go,” He said, his face getting red hot yet again. I giggled in response. Jonathan quickly changed the subject though, back to the question at hand.

“Steve, stop avoiding the question,” He said, shaming him. 

“Can’t I, like, get another question or something? Please?” 

“What’s wrong, too scared?” I said, teasing him further.

“No, it’s just that my answer would make everything more awkward,” He said, scratching the back of his neck. 

That’s when the idea came into my head. What if he was talking about me? What if he liked me? My face grew red as well and everyone saw. 

“You know what, I’ll let you do something else, but you have no choice in what it is. You have to do it, you here me?”

“Yep, please, I will literally do anything,” Steve said, with a relieved look on his face. Jonathan’s eyes had this mischevious look in them, 

“As the actual teenagers that we are, I say that a little round of seven minutes in heaven is in order, specifically, you and Y/N,” Jonathan said. Steve’s face looked like he was going to explode.

“Fine, let’s go, Steve-o,” I said, and pulled him off the ground. I took his hand in mine and dragged him off to a closet in the house. Steve set the timer for seven minutes, and I closed the closet door.

“So, will you answer it now?”

“Answer what?” he said. He looked at me like I was the only girl in the world, like I was the only one who was important. In that moment, I already knew the answer to my question. It was me. I was that special girl in all of Hawkins.

“You know what, just show me instead,” I said, grabbing either side of his jacket and pulling him into a kiss. The kiss was slow, passionate and hungry, the perfect first kiss. His hand cupped my cheek, as mine moved to his hair. I was desperate, so very desperate for him. He was there, the boy, no, the man that I had had a crush on for so long, right there on top of me. We were so lost into eachother that we barely heard the watch go off.  Steve broke the kiss, and looked at me with disappointed eyes.

“I guess we have to leave,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice mixing with the absolute lust. My hand goes for the doorhandle, and I began to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Guess we have more time than we thought,” I said, pulling my shirt off in one fluid motion. His eyes wandered over my chest, as he did the same. “Steve, there’s something else I have to tell you though.” His lips grazed over my collerbone, before planting kisses up and down my neck.His lips trailed upto my ear and whispered to me. 

“What is it? You can tell me anything.”

“I’ve never really done this before,” and with that he immediately pulled away from me. 

“If you don’t want to do this, just tell me,” he said, eyes full of concern.

“No, Steve, please, I want this so bad. Steve, I want you.”

He slowly kissed his way down me teasingly, not letting a single inch of me untouched. His hand snaked around me to undo my bra, unclasping it and then pulling it off. His lips made their way to my breasts, kissing them before taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking. I cried out softly, and Steve put his finger to my lips, shushing me.

“Babygirl, if you keep being so loud, everyone else is going to be able to here you,” he told me. I nodded, as he trailed lower and lower down me until he reached the apex of my thighs, unbuttoning my jeans and throwing them away from the two of us. His mouth hovered over my clothed core, before sucking my clit through the fabric of my panties. I bit my lip so hard that I could taste blood, trying to make sure I was doing what Steve told me. I felt his hands pull the thin fabric down my legs, and my eyes screwed shut in anticiopation. His lips ghosted over me, before making their way to my inner thigh, sucking and biting, leaving bruises in his wake. My hands fell to his hair, and tangled into this locks. Finally, he licked one long stripe up me, and then began to suck on my clit. In a feeble attempt to silence myself, I folded Steve’s belt and put it in my mouth to bite down. His mouth was driving me absolutely crazy, taking time to suck on my clit before delving into me. After a little bit, he replaced his tongue with his fingers, slipping one inside of me. It felt different than when I did it to myself, his fingers were so much bigger than mine, thicker and longer than my petite ones. It felt strange, and Steve let me get used to the feeling.

He looked up to me for confirmation, and I nodded, telling him that I was ok. He began to move his finger in and out of me, slowly, before picking up the pace.

He added a second, and I moaned out into the belt, the stretch burning, but feeling really good. He went slow again, letting me get used to it, and sucking on my clit once more to distract me from the burn. I couldn’t handle it, everything felt way too good. I came hard around his fingers, my walls clenching around him. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as moans hit the belt in my mouth. Steve continued to suck and lick at me, cleaning up my orgasm. 

Steve pulled the belt from my mouth, and replaced it with his own. The kiss was soft and delicate, like he was scared if he kissed me too hard, I would shatter in his arms. 

“Steve, I’ll be ok, please,” I begged, and he understood. He began to line himself up with me, and before he once again made sure I was ok. I nodded, and he slowly sunk into me. It burned inside of me, stretching me out and making my eyes water a little bit. Steve stopped, and looked at me with worry

“Y/N, I can stop if you want me too, “ he said, but I shook my head. 

“No, no, Steve, I’m ok, keep going,” I said, and he continued to push into me, until he was all the way in. He waited for me to get used to the feeling, rubbing at my clit to help with the pain. His lips attacked mine, kissing me deep, trying to distract me from it.

I broke the kiss, and looked him in the eye, and nodded once again, and he started to move. His thrusts were slow and deep, careful and caring. I moaned out in response and he saw that as encouragement. He picked up the pace, pushing in and out of me.

His lips captured mine once again, soft and sweet, and I melted into it, my legs wrapping around Steve’s waist, making his thrusts even deeper than before. He swallowed my loud moans into kisses, his hand going down once again to draw fast and tight circles on my clit. 

“Steve please, I’m going to again,” I panted out, and he kept going, and my vision blurred as I came hard around him. He quickly pulled out of me and came onto my stomach, his head falling back, and eyes squeezed shut. We were both tired, but nonetheless, Steve cleaned up my stomach with some napkins that were in the closet. He helped get me dressed, and got himself dressed as well. We both tried the door handle again but it wouldn’t budge, so Steve lied down, and I cuddled myself into his chest, with his arms curled around me. My eyes fluttered shut and my breathing slowed, just sitting there listening to his heartbeat. He must have thought I was asleep because I heard a voice, Steve trying not to wake me up.

“I love you so damn much, Y/N,” He muttered, and I turned my head to face him.

“I love you too, Steve, so damn much.”

[camillemontespan]

a kingdom divided [part eighteen: she wolf]

Part Seventeen if you want to catch up!

This is all Liam and Olivia. No Cake, no Hanwell. I was going to write more with the other pairings, but I thought this chapter should stay as it is. I hope you enjoy reading!

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @drakesensworld @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @notoriouscs @ifyouseekheart @iplaydrake @dcbbw @carabeth  @katedrakeohd

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Leo rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked in the morning light. He gently sat up and glanced to his right.  Olivia was sleeping soundly beside him. He looked at her for a long moment, studying her. When she was asleep, her face looked younger, more at peace. The permanent scowl was ironed out. The sunlight glowed against her red hair. Leo felt a little flutter in his stomach.

Fuck off butterflies, he thought.  He had been experiencing a fluttering stomach for the past week or so, always whenever he saw Olivia, and he was getting tired of it. He never had butterflies about anyone. Sure, his jeans tightened whenever he saw a beautiful woman, but he never got butterflies. 

Leo needed to get out of the bed. He needed to get away and clear his head. It was his own fault; he had pursued her first. He wasn’t sure why, he just felt drawn to the fiery woman who he had known all of his life but only now actually saw clearly.  He had flirted with her as a joke, originally, enjoying riling her up. He hadn’t expected their strange relationship to evolve to sex, rule six, talking about feelings and leaving behind dead bodies. 

He jumped when he noticed that Olivia was watching him.

‘Liv! Um, how long have you been awake?’

‘Long enough to see you’ve been staring at me. Creep.’

She pulled the sheets away and slunk out of bed, running a hand through her hair. Leo watched her as she moved. 

There was a knock at the door. 

Olivia’s eyes darted to Leo. ‘Get in the bathroom,’ she ordered. Leo bolted out of bed and hid in the en-suite, shutting the door behind him. 

Olivia wrapped a dressing gown around her and clearing her throat, she opened the door. 

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‘Olivia.’ It was Liam.  Olivia’s heart started to race, as if often did when she saw him. He had that effect over her. ‘Can I come in?’ he asked quietly. Olivia nodded and beckoned him inside. 

Liam sat down the chaise lounge and looked at her steadily.  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked. Still watching her, he put his hand inside his pocket and pulled out something shiny. Olivia recognised the ruby handle. Liam placed her dagger, red with Kiara’s dried blood, onto the side table and stared at her. 

Olivia swallowed. ‘Liam, I can explain-’ ‘You can explain why,’ he began, his voice like silk,  ‘you are murdering people in my court?’  Olivia jumped back, not expecting him to raise his voice. ‘Liam, she attacked me first-’ ‘You know, I would normally have doubted you because it’s Kiara and she is the most quiet person there is, but after discovering she was part of the poison plot, I can believe that,’ he told her. ‘But what I can’t stress enough is the consequences of this. You killed her. How could you do something so stupid?’

Olivia reddened. ‘It was  self defence-’ ‘You didn’t have to kill her!’ he cried. ‘For Gods sake, Liv, you abandoned her in the gardens! How cold can you be?! She was your friend once! I thought you might be changing, becoming less harsh, less clinical... but you haven’t, have you? You killed her and left her in a pool of her blood.’ 

‘She had a dagger too!’ Olivia protested. ‘She wanted to kill me! She said you were weak and you deserved to lose the crown, I was defending you!’

Liam bolted up, his eyes wild. ‘Don’t you dare use your loyalty to me as justification for killing her! I would never have wanted you to do that! I never asked you to defend me! I can fight my own battles, Olivia!’

‘You’re doing a stand up job at that, Li!’ she shouted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Really top notch job!’

Liam stared at her, his chest rising and falling. ‘I am trying to keep my court together and you are now tearing it apart even more. You do realise she was my only lead? I was going to take her into questioning and find out more-’

‘When?’ Olivia interrupted. ‘Liam, you have just been waiting! It’s all waiting, no action with you. You are being seen as weak because you are acting like it! You should have taken her into questioning as soon as you discovered the note and interrogated her! But you didn’t! Instead, you sat around, held balls, dinners, Drake and Camille had to leave for fucking Texas, you let them, you still sat around doing nothing, and then Kiara tries to stab me and I just so happened to be the superior fighter and did the deed first! Sue me! But none of this would have happened if you had just interrogated her first!’

‘How dare you tell me how to govern?!’ Liam shouted. ‘I am the King, I have learned from the best, I have studied our history, I know how to rule, I don’t need you to tell me how to do it!’

‘Liam-’

‘The fact is you have killed my only lead and now I’m back to square one. You murdering her is now one more thing I have to deal with. For God’s sake, I didn’t want any of this! I didn’t want the crown! I didn’t want my brother to leave but he did and now I have to deal with all of this! Do you know how much I wish I could just leave? But I can’t! I have responsibilities and the most important one is keeping our kingdom safe which it isn’t! The secret club are still at large and you have killed my one connection to it!’

Olivia stared at him. ‘You blame me.’

He stared back. ‘You haven’t helped matters.’

‘Would you rather I just let her stab me?’ she spat. ‘Just let her kill me? Is that what you want?’ He held up his hands. ‘Olivia, no. I didn’t mean it like that-’

‘It sounded like it! I’m sorry that my first instinct was to defend myself. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t let her stab me. Next time someone tries to kill me, I’ll just lean into their dagger and make the job that much easier!’

Liam clenched his fists, his eyes flashing. ‘Olivia. I am glad you’re alive, of course I am!’

‘You know, not once throughout this whole argument have you actually asked how I am. Or if I’m hurt. You haven’t even asked what lead to the fight with Kiara. You just jumped straight into blaming me and I am fucking sick of it.’ She moved closer to him now, staring into his eyes. Her eyes were narrowed. She wanted to lay into him. She wanted him to feel guilty. ‘You have treated me appallingly the past few weeks,’ she continued. ‘I have been there for you and you keep slapping it back in my face. You say you want allies but you push away the ones who are really there for you. I have always defended your corner, I even defended you to the last breath with Kiara. Now I’m thinking I shouldn’t have even bothered. Why try and defend you when all you do is treat me like shit and blame me? I loved you, Liam. I really loved you. I wanted to be your Queen. But now I don’t want it. Liam, I fucking hate you.’ 

Liam stared at her. His eyes, which were wide, now narrowed to mirror hers. He drew closer. ‘You would never have been my Queen,’ he whispered. ‘You act like you’re the only logical option, but in truth, you don’t have the right attitude for it. You are cold, harsh, rash. If you wore that crown on your head, you would be a she wolf. That is why I have never asked you to be my Queen.’

Olivia threw her shoulders back defiantly. ‘The fact you believe all of that about me shows you have never truly known me. Get out of my room.’

‘You can’t tell me to get out. I’m your King.’

‘I’m a she-wolf, remember? I do what I want.’ 

He stared at her. His eyes were full of anger but also seering pain. He was remembering. They were childhood friends. They used to climb trees together, play together, steal cake from the palace kitchen.  When they were fifteen, they tried weed with Drake for the first time. Olivia had stared up at the ceiling, convinced it was moving, Drake had gone to the kitchen in search of munchies and Liam had freaked out thinking he was having a heart attack and also had an identity crisis: ‘am I really a prince? Are you sure I’m a prince?!’  Olivia had to calm him down. When Olivia practiced her fighting techniques, Liam helped her by blocking. When Olivia actually had a crush on a boy when she was thirteen, the boy broke her heart - though she never admitted that- so Liam went to her room with DVDs and snacks to cheer her up. All his memories with her flashed through his mind as he stared at her, trying to work out how to save this friendship. He needed this friendship. He needed Olivia. He couldn’t believe the shit he had just said to her but he had been caught up in his anger and frustration. He just wanted things to go back to normal but he didn’t know how. The things he had just said to her, he wasn’t sure how they could go back to how they were. It was his fault. 

‘Liv... I’m sorry,’ he whispered. Olivia’s eyes flashed. She could be the most unforgiving person. ‘You’ve said enough,’ she replied bitterly. He reached out to touch her hand but she moved back, wrapping her arms around herself. Tears pricked her eyes but she held them back. He would not see her cry. She remembered too. The times when she would secretly cry in her bedroom because she loved him and she hated herself for loving him. Whenever they danced together at court and she felt his hand on the small of her back and she looked into his brown eyes which crinkled up as he laughed. How whenever he spoke to her, his voice gentle, she felt like the only woman in the world. And how every birthday, he would give her a card with the most sickeningly sentimental message on the front, deliberately, because he knew she hated sentimentality, and the cards always made her laugh because they were terrible and embarrassing. 

Did any of these memories matter now? They were like two completely different people, so far removed from what they used to be.  Olivia felt like they were both adrift at sea, with one life raft between them, but both of them unwilling to relent and share. 

Liam rubbed his eyes which were now wet with tears and he gave her a small nod. He turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Olivia let out a haggered breath and slumped down onto the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. Her chest felt tight and constricted; her head swam; her vision was blurred and her body was shaking uncontrollably. A sob escaped her throat and she couldn’t stop the flood of tears that now fell down her cheeks. 

The en-suite door burst open. Olivia looked up. She had forgotten Leo had been hiding in there. She stared at him as she sobbed and Leo’s face was one of concern. He sat down on the bed beside her and wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her back.  ‘It’s okay, Liv...’ he murmured.  She shook her head. ‘I’ve lost him. I’ve lost everything.’ 

Leo couldn’t say anything. How could he comfort her when the man she loved had spoke to her so horribly? That was not the Liam he knew. That was not his brother. Liam was kind, gentle. He was the lighthouse in a stormy sea, there to guide and offer safe keeping. 

Leo had had to restrain himself from bursting out of the en-suite to give Liam a piece of his mind. He had listened to the venom Liam had spewed, the accusations.. the way he broke Olivia’s heart. He had called her a she wolf. When he had branded her with that name, rage had filled Leo. 

How could Leo, the older brother who had only been acquaintances with Olivia when they were younger,  understand her more than her childhood friend? Was it because they were the same? Both dark, both closed off to emotion? How could Leo see everything good about Olivia but his brother failed to? 

Olivia was fierce, bold and relentless. She was pure fire; her soul burned. Now, watching her as she cried her heart out, he couldn’t believe that Liam had torn down this woman and extinguished the fire inside her. How dare he? What gave him the right?

‘If it means anything, I think you would make a great Queen,’ he whispered. She wiped her eyes and looked at him. ‘You’re not the King, so what you think doesn’t really matter in the long run, does it?’

Leo sighed. He had been King once. If he had stayed the course and kept the crown, he could have ruled with fire by his side. 

He pushed the thought away. There was no point in thinking about what could have been. He wasn’t that kind of man. No point in being sentimental. No point in wishful thinking. No point in acting like he could care for someone when he clearly wasn’t capable of that emotion. 

But as Olivia cried some more, Leo’s heart tugged. 

[nympsycho-ao3]

Il Mio Giocattolo

Want to read on AO3? Click here!

Bucciarati has risked everything in an attempt to discover The Boss's identity, and with Trish's fate threatened within the hollowed walls of the castle on San Giorgio Maggiore, he's stumbled upon the perfect opportunity for an assassination.

Unfortunately for him, The Boss has his methods of ensuring his subordinates stay just that. Bucciarati knowingly put his livelihood on the line, but The Boss's intention isn't just to take his life.

He wants to take everything.

[In which The Boss teaches Bucciarati a lesson in who's in control, and just how easy for his body to betray him into submission]

Extremely non-con, heed the tags.

A commission/request fic

 “W-what’s… going on…” Bucciarati wonders, his thoughts clouded by surreal confusion.

 He stares ahead at the image that is undeniably himself, a visceral sensation of eerie disturbia taking over his logical thought. Through the haze of muddled time and manipulation, he then finds himself staring ahead at nothing, his muscles paralyized by the same abashment and fear that wrack his shattering sense of reality.

 His desperate ponderings are interrupted by a deep, scathing voice from behind. His eyes widen as he feels a presence that replaces the vast emptiness behind him appear from nowhere, its aura undeniably sinister.

 “I decided to show you… as a parting gift,” it explains. Bucciarati scans his surroundings curiously, dazed, as it continues. “Since this is the end, I’ll fill you in.”

 And it does. It’s more terrifying than Bucciarati can fathom, its sheer power and tenacity for time manipulation muddling his dogmatic attitude towards his mission.

 “I erased time and leapt past it,” it reveals as it captures the back of his neck in a vice grip. Bucciarati shudders with the pressure around the sinews of his neck, choking back wordless cries. Its fingers pry deeply against the hardness of his vertebrae, ensuring he’s paying attention.

 “I don’t care who it is. I will not allow anyone to threaten my throne, no matter what,” it growls, so close to his ear that he winces from the movement of his hair from its words.

 Bucciarati exclaims with surprise as he’s cast to the ground with a wicked thud, the fabric of his suit tearing at the knees. He lays face down, his cheekbones aching with the impact. He tries to collect himself, too stunned to move, as he considers his next move.

 There are none to make.

 King Crimson kicks him onto his back, pushing his weight from the solidness of his ribs with a sickening crunch. Bucciarati barely sees the Stand before his vision cuts out, gasping as he reaches up with clawing fingers to dig at the hands that pin his face to the ground. He musters enough courage to kick his legs, only for it to be thwarted immediately with the presence of another grabbing his ankle. Fear runs cold through his veins and sinks deep in his gut, a malicious chuckle capturing his undivided attention as he stills.

 The Boss.

 The mysterious man throws his ankle back to the floor, leaving Bucciarati to cower and fight the pain in his ribs to fill his lungs. The Boss is wordless as he settles his weight onto Bucciarati’s knees, testing the limits of his tendons.

 Large fingers toy at the tattoo on at Bucciarati’s chest, revealed by his suit and warping with his gasping breaths. Bucciarati shivers under the touch, not expecting something so gentle where a vicious punch should be; he’s not sure which would be worse. He knows he’s being teased, but didn’t know to what extent until invasive fingers slip under the lapel of his jacket and circle the nub of his nipple.

 “W-what are you--!” he yells, only for his mouth to be covered by The Boss’s other hand.

 He trembles, struggling to breathe through his nose against the side of his hand. The Boss leans in close to his ear, feeling the way his eyelashes flutter against King Crimson’s palm in fear as he flicks the pad of his finger across his nipple.

 “Bucciarati, your mission to act as Trish’s bodyguard has come to an end,” he seethes, his voice accompanying the trailing of his hand from his nipple to his crotch. Bucciarati writhes under The Boss’s weight as he gives it a harsh squeeze, feeling disgusted from the shameless violation. There’s no way this was happening, it didn’t make sense; he knew The Boss would be a challenge to assassinate, but the swiftness and thoroughness in which he was subdued only added insult to injury.

 “You are my subordinate,” The Boss continues, releasing his hold on Bucciarati’s mouth. He’s speechless, just as The Boss had predicted he would be. “You do not understand the level of disrespect you have displayed as an underling attempting to usurp me.”

 Bucciarati hisses between his teeth as The Boss pops the bottom button of his jacket to reveal the hoity leather belt around his waist. He grimaces as The Boss presses his weight harder into his knees, his hands making quick work of his belt with a clinking of metal. Bucciarati considers some way that he can reach the cell-phone tucked within Sticky Fingers, but a tug of shame on the back of his neck stops him from even trying. What would he say? He couldn’t ask for help, he didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

 No, instead he resigns within himself as The Boss rears back onto his knees to jerk his pants down from his hips. The cool, stone floor tenses the muscles of his ass as it raises goosebumps on his skin, feeling terribly exposed and revolted with the situation.

 He raises his hands weakly in an attempt to cover himself, only for The Boss to slam his wrists down into the pavement. He cries out, thoroughly demoralized as The Boss slides forward to grind the roughness of his pants against Bucciarati’s bare, flaccid cock.

 “You’ve had every opportunity to maintain your self-respect, and it’s only now that you try?” The Boss leers, grating the skin of Bucciarati’s wrists into the stone with a slow turn. His mouth falls agape as he tires to let out an agonized cry, though he’s too horrified for anything to come out.

 The Boss, confident that Bucciarati would remain still, frees his own semi-hard cock from the barrier of his slacks. Bucciarati squirms with the sensation of The Boss’s cock laid over his, both of them captured in his unforgiving grasp.

 Bucciarati’s breathing quakes as The Boss drags his fist down their lengths, squeezing them together with a loathsome pressure that brings bile into his throat. Even more disturbing is his body’s response, the familiar pulsing of blood betraying his sensibilities. Adrenaline courses through his veins, only to be stifled by paralyzing fear.

 “S-stop…” Bucciarati utters, his voice raspy and pathetic under the duress. The Boss scoffs, watching one of his most reliable Capos crumble so easily. Perhaps this was for the best; if he was unable to handle this level of scrutiny, he truly didn’t deserve to be a Capo.

 “Stop?” The Boss crones, tightening his fist and stroking their heads together. Bucciarati grits his teeth as he drags something sharp, like his fingernail, along the underside of his tip. “You still think you’re in any position of authority?”

 Bucciarati grimaces as The Boss gyrates his hips, sliding his cock over the other’s rapidly-hardening length. His mouth goes dry, swallowing nothing as he tries to crane his neck away from the absurd reality he finds himself in.

 “Bucciarati,” The Boss growls. “Even if I let you live, you will have no authority. Not over your team, not over your family, and not over yourself.”

 His lower lip quivers as he’s thoroughly hardened, their skin sliding together under the warmth of The Boss’s palm. His mind swims with self-degradation and hatred; if his resolve were stronger, this wouldn’t be happening. A thousand what-ifs run through his mind, and they all lead to the same conclusion: he wasn’t good enough, and he never would be.

 The Boss finally relents, releasing Bucciarati’s cock to leave it jutting against his navel. He scowls, wordless, and paralyzed with anxiety as The Boss relieves his weight on his legs. He shuffles for a moment, his movements unseen, only to return to straddle his hips. Bucciarati curls his lip, the warmth of The Boss’s bare ass horribly delightful.

 Something slick and hot drips onto the tip of Bucciarati’s cock, sliding down his shaft with a sickly path. He can only assume it’s spit, the thought horrifying him for no reason other than his apparent idolization of The Boss. Spitting is such a      human     thing to do, to be touching him like this was      human    . For the first time, he’s realized The Boss isn’t some corporeal figure. In fact, he’s something much more terrifying, something much more real.

 “Your authority in this organization has always been my gift to you. I allowed you to maintain authority over yourself, so long as you obeyed,” The Boss glowers as he takes Bucciarati’s cock into his fingers, positioning it upright. Bucciarati strains against the restraint on his head, trying to buck his hips away, knowing what surely awaited him if he stayed still.

 Despite his whimpering breaths and persistent resistance, The Boss starts to sink himself onto Bucciarati, encapsulating him around his ring of muscle. Bucciarati stills, seeing no point in struggling any longer, already so defeated that there’s no possibility of redemption.

 The Boss huffs an almost inaudible breath as he takes Bucciarati in his entirety with a single plunge, forcing his weight onto his hips. Bucciarati cries out, the sudden warmth surrounding his cock infuriating him almost as much as it sent electricity throughout his groin.

 “The authority you’ve had over yourself,” The Boss continued, rearing his hips just enough to create friction before sinking back down, “has always been conditional. And you have broken those conditions.”

 Bucciarati feels tears budding in the corners of his eyes, staring ahead at the darkness that sheaths his vision. He groans regrettably, his fingers digging into the bloodied stone beneath him, not daring to move his hands anywhere else. Even if he could shove him off, he’s not sure if he wants to. The realization nauseates him, trying to convince himself that he hates this on every level.

 The Boss picks up a steady rhythm, watching the erratic rising and falling of Bucciarati’s chest as he’s forced to come to terms with the pleasure he’s facing. His body doesn’t lie, after all, and with each stroke he only gets harder.

 “Ah…!” Bucciarati whines as The Boss hooks his fingers under the open chest of his jacket, ripping it open with a few snaps of thread. His tongue darts between his lips at the sudden exposure, desperate for moisture in the dry air of the basement. The Boss’s palms lay flat against his bare chest, pressing his back further into the hardness of the floor beneath him.

 He curls his toes as his fingers pinch and twirl his cold-shocked nipples, just hard enough to be painful. It’s part of his strategy to draw Bucciarati from himself, his heated gasps reverberating through the emptiness of the room. As he relents the pressure of his fingers, grinding himself onto his cock, Bucciarati has no choice but to accept a terrible truth about himself:

 He’s not only tolerating this, he’s enjoying it.

 He stifles a cry in his throat as The Boss grins, satisfied, taking everything he can from the man beneath him where he belongs. He spits onto Bucciarati’s chest, his fingers swirling the viciousness around his nipples to chill them in the cool basement air. He mewls, his chest puffing unconsciously to receive the stimulation. Though Bucciarati doesn’t notice the filling of his chest, The Boss certainly does, cupping one of his breasts with a firm grip. The muscles of Bucciarati’s abdomen tighten, fighting the urge to moan.

 The Boss senses his self-censorship, watching his lips purse tightly. He gives one nipple a final flick before trailing his fingers to his mouth, surprising Bucciarati with the contact. As he startles, The Boss shoves his fingers along the softness of his tongue with a humiliating intrusion. He lets him explore his mouth, the bitter taste of exertion making him grimace.

 With his mouth left agape, Bucciarati’s intermittent moans escape the confines of his throat without filter. At first, The Boss relishes in the sound and the way they pulse with his riding. However, soon it becomes very clear that as Bucciarati nears a reluctant orgasm he’s simply too loud for a stealthy reprimanding. After all, his friends must know something is amiss by now; the prospect of his loyal followers seeing him so compromised excites The Boss, but with no reliable way to hide his identity, he supposes that may have to wait.

 “It would behoove you to follow my orders,” The Boss leers condescendingly through the whines that reverberate against his fingers. Bucciarati gets the hint, knowing that whatever The Boss would do to him if he disobeyed would be much worse than this.

 “Suck.”

 Bucciarati almost doesn’t believe what he’s heard, remaining still for just a moment until The Boss drives his fingers in further towards the back of his throat. His lips snap around the bulk of his fingers reflexively, fresh fear taking his sensibilities from him. His cheeks hollow slightly as he’s effectively silenced by sucking on The Boss’s fingers, the pressure choking off his groans.

 The Boss quickly learns how Bucciarati likes to be ridden, assessing every miniscule reaction to tailor himself perfectly to his tastes. He needs to take the one thing that’s left from him, ruin him from any semblance of recovery. His pace is perfection, the rolling of his hips tantalizing and careful...

 Bucciarati’s breath escapes from his nose onto the back of The Boss’s hand, undeniably saturated with neediness and urgency. He fights the urge to buck his hips, fearing the consequences and hating himself for even considering such a thing. He does his best to resist, refusing to admit that he’s on the brink despite the searing ache in his balls.

 “Your personal authority, your autonomy, can be revoked,” The Boss smirks, watching the tattoo on his chest warp with his conflicted breaths. “And now, it’s mine.”

 He pounds himself back into Bucciarati’s lap thoroughly, the depth of the penetration too much for his fragile limits. The Boss rolls his hips, milking Bucciarati from the base as he cums, an anguished cry managing to escape from between his lips. Bucciarati digs his fingernails into his palms, riding out the mixture of intense pleasure and shame that overtakes his thoughts. There was no denying it now, the evidence of his enjoyment currently seeping from where their bodies meet. He’s revolted by himself, though his opinion of himself seems to be the least of his worries. He finds himself enveloped in taunting silence and darkness as he forces his breathing to steady.

 The Boss keeps himself collected, giving no indication that he’s stroking his own cock steadily. He focuses on the way Bucciarati sinks into the floor, utterly defeated and consumed by the post-orgasm clarity that reminds him what he’s just done. Putting the cocky, self-assured Bucciarati in his rightful place is more satisfying than he thought it’d be. He’s failed so spectacularly in his asinine attempt to assassinate him. If only he could read his thoughts in this moment. The sense of guilt and disgrace must be incredible.

 His fantasies and idealisations push him over his own threshold, one eye remaining open as he watches Bucciarati react to the ropes of cum that spurt onto his chest. It takes him a moment to realize what must be happening, but after he does, the expression on his face makes all the effort he’s gone through worth it. He frowns around his fingers, sickened as he’s marked undeniably with strings of The Boss’s cum. The Boss is tempted to rescind King Crimson’s hand to get a better look at his face, watch him avert his gaze in shame, perhaps release a tear or two. However, as tantalizing as that seems, he wants to leave Bucciarati alive for his friends to find.

 The Boss slides his fingers from Bucciarati’s mouth to capture his cheek in his palm. Bucciarati gives little response to the spit that slicks his cheek or the change in position, his lips remaining pathetically agape. His fists weaken into a feeble claw, the backs of his hands burning from being grated against the stone.

 The Boss hunches over him, keeping himself aligned with Bucciarati’s softening cock as he brings their faces close together. If Bucciarati had an ounce of strength or a shred of desire to find out his true identity left, all it would take is a twist of his head to see him in his entirety. But there is nothing left, his resolve and conviction taken from him with his hope for Trish’s redemption.

 He lays still as The Boss presses his lips to his own, hardly any contact needed to make his point. His face is right there, just out of reach yet so attainable. Everything that Bucciarati’s been scheming with Giorno crumples with the taste of The Boss’s lips, feeling his cum drip down the roundness of his chest.

 The Boss drags his teeth across his lower lip before sinking deeper onto them, his tongue rolling onto the wet softness of Bucciarati’s. He takes him every way he can imagine, even as he recoils away from the kiss. He ushers him back into place with the forceful hand on his cheek, sealing his lips around Bucciarati’s posessively. Everything that was once his is no longer, even his sense of sanctity, as his tongue swirls around Bucciarati’s insistently. He’s too disoriented to fight it, his eyes falling closed in defeat.

 He breaks the kiss with a grin, his tongue darting to taste the victory that lingers on his lips. Bucciarati’s eyes open with the sound of his voice, the tone and accent branded into his memory.

 “Who’s The Boss?”

 Bucciarati’s jaw trembles as he considers the double-edged meaning of his words, that very question having captivated his motivations since meeting Giorno. He’s no closer to an identity, but the answer is painfully clear.

 “You,” Bucciarati mutters, his pride bubbling back into his voice only to be thwarted by distasteful embarrassment. The Boss’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, releasing Bucciarati’s face with a forceful jolt.

 Bucciarati lays breathless as The Boss eases up and off of his lap, spare dribbles of cum puddling onto the floor. He’s left with his pants around his knees, his jacket torn, with cooling saliva and cum chilling his skin as he listens to the rhythmic thuds of The Boss’s footsteps. He doesn’t dare move, even as he hears the distinctive drag of a body along concrete.

 The noise fades from recognition, a final metal clang signifying The Boss’s escape. In a moment that’s erased from Bucciarati’s timeline, King Crimson’s hands disappear. He can see, though there’s no point; he knows that Trish is gone, and the life that he’d worked so hard to build is gone with her.

 He stares up at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

Tags:

              Explicit Sexual Content

Rape

Mind Rape

Forced Orgasm

Rough Body Play

Death Threats

Nipple Play

Power Dynamics

Dominance

Minor Injuries

Blindfolds

Frottage

Begging

Fear

Self-Hatred

Spit As Lube

Possessive Behavior

Anal Sex

Finger Sucking

Submission

Creampie

Come Marking

Guilt

Non-Consensual Kissing

Bucciarati's Bad End (TM)

Situational Humiliation

Confusion

Riding

[pamphletstoinspire]

Does It Even Matter How We Treat Others? The 26th Sunday of Ordinary Time (September 29th)

Does it matter how we treat others? What does my neighbor’s suffering have to do with me? Can I continue living in comfort while bypassing those around me who are in misery? These are questions that the Readings for this Sunday raise, and to which they provide uncomfortable answers. Let’s read and let the Holy Spirit move us outside our comfort zone.

1. The First Reading is Am 6:1a, 4-7:

Thus says the LORD the God of hosts: Woe to the complacent in Zion! Lying upon beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches, they eat lambs taken from the flock, and calves from the stall! Improvising to the music of the harp, like David, they devise their own accompaniment. They drink wine from bowls and anoint themselves with the best oils; yet they are not made ill by the collapse of Joseph! Therefore, now they shall be the first to go into exile, and their wanton revelry shall be done away with.

Amos is one of the oldest of the literary (writing) prophets. A Judean (from the southern kingdom) who was sent to northern Israel, he is best remembered for his strident denunciations of the social injustices of his day.

In today’s passage, Isaiah rebukes the aristocracy of Jerusalem, the wealthy elite, who led lives of comfort and leisure in the capital city of the southern kingdom but were “not made ill by the collapse of Joseph,” that is, cared nothing for the fact that their fellow Israelites to the north (Joseph=the northern kingdom) were being decimated, impoverished, and killed by repeated incursions of enemy armies. The fact that ten of the twelve tribes of the LORD were being faced with exile and extinction did not make an impression on these wealthy southerners. As a result, Amos prophecies that they will share the same fate as their northern cousins: “They shall be the first to go into exile!” So it came to be: when Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon later invaded Judea on multiple occasions, he exiled the Judean people, starting with the wealthiest.

2. The Responsorial Psalm is Ps 146:7, 8-9, 9-10:

R. (1b) Praise the Lord, my soul!

Blessed he who keeps faith forever, secures justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets captives free. R. Praise the Lord, my soul!

The LORD gives sight to the blind. The LORD raises up those who were bowed down; the LORD loves the just. The LORD protects strangers. R. Praise the Lord, my soul!

The fatherless and the widow he sustains, but the way of the wicked he thwarts. The LORD shall reign forever; your God, O Zion, through all generations. Alleluia. R. Praise the Lord, my soul!

Psalm 146 is the first of five “Alleluia” psalms that end the psalter. Each begins with the Hebrew word “Hallelu-Yah” a second-masculine-plural imperative meaning “Praise the LORD!” This set of five psalms is repeated tympanny beats and trumpet fanfares at the end of a great symphony. They close out the psalter on a raucous chorus of praise.

This Psalm stresses the character of the LORD, the God of Israel: He is on the side of the poor, the downtrodden, those who are weak, vulnerable and innocent. This is the character of the God we worship.

Not everyone believes God is like this. Other religions and other persons worship a god of power, a god who “helps those who help themselves, a god who looks out for his own interests and expects you to do the same.

The ancient Israelite Psalmist was making a daring statement by saying the creator had particular concern for the weak. We can see strong lines of continuity between this psalm and the ministry of Jesus, especially Jesus teachings in the Sermon on the Mount, summarized by the Beatitudes. Notice how in this psalm the “LORD reigning forever,” i.e. the kingdom of God, is linked to the comforting of the downtrodden, just as in the Beatitudes.

3. The Second Reading is 1 Tm 6:11-16:

But you, man of God, pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well for the faith. Lay hold of eternal life, to which you were called when you made the noble confession in the presence of many witnesses. I charge you before God, who gives life to all things, and before Christ Jesus, who gave testimony under Pontius Pilate for the noble confession, to keep the commandment without stain or reproach until the appearance of our Lord Jesus Christ that the blessed and only ruler will make manifest at the proper time, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, and whom no human being has seen or can see. To him be honor and eternal power. Amen.

The Second Reading proceeds on its way semi-continuously through Paul’s letters to individuals. Here we reach the conclusion of St. Paul’s first letter to Timothy, and we here his concluding charge to his young protégé.

Although this Reading was not chosen for thematic agreement with the Gospel, nonetheless we see a commonality in theme. St. Paul links virtues of compassion with the kingdom of God. He exhorts Timothy to practice “righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness.” These virtues, especially “love, patience, and gentleness,” forbid us to be callous toward those in need, harsh with the downtrodden, brusque with the uneducated. The practice of these virtues, St. Paul insists, is linked to one day beholding “our Lord Jesus Christ, that blessed and only ruler … the King of Kings and Lord of lords.” Yes, Jesus Christ is omnipotent and eternal God, who cares for the weak, the poor, the shamed, the rejected, the ridiculed, the slow, the feeble. Blessed are those who practice “love patience, and gentleness” toward such.

4. The Gospel is Lk 16:19-31:

Jesus said to the Pharisees: "There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man's table. Dogs even used to come and lick his sores. When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried, and from the netherworld, where he was in torment, he raised his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he cried out, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering torment in these flames.' Abraham replied, 'My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side to yours or from your side to ours.’ He said, 'Then I beg you, father, send him to my father's house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they too come to this place of torment.' But Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.' He said, 'Oh no, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.' Then Abraham said, 'If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.'"

Several things attract our attention about this Gospel. First of all, we notice that the parable of the “Rich Man and Lazarus” is often employed in debates about purgatory, with some Protestants insisting that it disproves this doctrine, and some Catholics suggesting that it actually supports it.

Jewish views of the afterlife at the time of our Lord held that those who died went to the netherworld (Sheol in classical Hebrew or Hades in Greek) where they awaited the Day of Judgment. Within the netherworld there were places of comfort as well as places of pain. The “bosom of Abraham” was the best part of the netherworld, a pleasant land where the righteous enjoyed the consolation of their ancestors, particularly Abraham himself. The “bosom of Abraham” was separated from the rest of the netherworld, where others received punishments appropriate to their sins, by rivers or chasms.

In this parable, then, both the rich man and Lazarus are awaiting the final judgment, and neither is in heaven nor in hell. They are in Sheol, the place of the dead. It is to this Sheol or Hades that Christ descended to usher the righteous into the presence of God, i.e. heaven.

Does the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus have bearing on the doctrine of purgatory? It does indirectly. Jewish faith held that it was possible to intercede for those in the netherworld awaiting judgment (2 Macc 12:44-45; Apocalypse of Zephaniah 11:1-2). In fact, in some Jewish writings of the period, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob intercede for the dead awaiting judgment. So we can say that the Christian doctrine of purgatory—a place or state of purification of those in the intermediate state—is rooted in ancient Jewish faith. The Rich Man of the parable is in a state similar to purgatory — he is experiencing suffering, but he has not been condemned to hell and is still able to communicate with the righteous (which would not be possible in hell).

Let’s turn to the moral meaning of the passage. The Rich Man is receiving punishment in the afterlife because of his sins, and the parable implies that his primary sin was his utter disregard for the welfare of a fellow Israelite, Lazarus, who begged at the door of his house in utter squalor, lacking even basic necessities. In this attitude he parallels the wealthy elite of Jerusalem from the First Reading, who were not in the least distressed by the decimation of their cousins to the north. Jesus is condemning the callousness of those who live lives of self-indulgence while ignoring the needs of the poor, especially the poor of their own community, or their own community of faith.

The conclusion of the dialogue between Abraham and the Rich Man is interesting. The Rich Man pleads with Abraham to send someone to warn his brothers, but Abraham responds, “They have Moses and the Prophets. If they will not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be persuaded if someone rises from the dead.”

“Moses and the Prophets” is a reference to the sum total of Scripture, often referred to as the “Law and the Prophets.” Both Moses and the prophets (like Amos above!) stressed the importance of practicing economic justice and charity toward the widow, the orphan, the stranger, and the poor kinsman (see Deut 15, Lev 25). Those that did not heed God’s prophets had hard hearts, and even a resurrection would not persuade them, because their impediment to repentance was not some rational objection to the existence or power of God, but an attachment to riches.

Jesus words were prophetic. As it turns out, the wealthy of Jerusalem are not persuaded by the resurrection of Lazarus (!), just as they were not moved to repentance by the Scriptures. John records the aftermath of the resurrection of Lazarus:

John 11: 46 but some of [the Judeans] went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done. 47 So the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered the council, and said, “What are we to do? For this man performs many signs. 48 If we let him go on thus, every one will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place and our nation.” …. 53 So from that day on they took counsel how to put him to death.

We also note how Jesus ties his own ministry as one who “rises from the dead” with belief in the testimony of “Moses and the Prophets.” In doing so, Jesus rules out any form of Christianity which tries to reject the Old Testament, the Scriptures of Israel (i.e. Marcionism). On a personal note, this was the text that persuaded me to become an Old Testament scholar, since Jesus ties belief in the resurrection (i.e. Christian faith) to confidence in the prophets of Israel (i.e. the Old Testament).

Sometimes we are tempted to think, “If only God would pour out manifestations of His power, then evangelism would be easier. We would convert the nation.” But Jesus teaches us to think more realistically about miracles. After three years of the most remarkable miracle ministry in the history of the human race, Jesus still found himself abandoned by even his closest followers at the time of his greatest need. Even after his resurrection, the officials to whom that miracle were reported paid the guards to suppress the news (Matt 28:11-15)!

Miracles gather crowds, but they only occasionally lead to the conversion of heart that Jesus seeks. Those that are hardened by greed, lust, or other passions can always find a way to explain a miracle away, and even if they can’t, they will simply ignore it or regard it as an inexplicable fluke. There have been public miracles in modern times witnessed by thousands (like the apparitions in Zeitoun, Egypt) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMEWxRB-1dc but haven’t led to mass conversion.

So what do the Readings say to us this Lord’s Day? Firstly, to repent of any self-indulgence in our own lifestyle, and any lack of generosity toward the poor, especially those closest to us. Secondly, to start paying heed to the Scriptures today by turning to God in conversion, rather than waiting for some sign, some apparition, some “act of God” to wake us up.

From: https://www.pamphletstoinspire.com/

[shadowluver1242]

I finished “The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck”

I read the full 12 chapters, plus the “Companion” section that had bonus stories in between the chapters, and “The Last Sled to Dawson”, “The Dream of a Lifetime”, and “A Letter From Home.” 

This has to be my favorite comic series I’ve read so far. Not just because it’s Scrooge, but there’s so much heart and emotion put into it and you’re able to follow the story so easily (which for me is hard as I get easily distracted and forget where I’m at). But this story kept my attention and made me want to keep going to the next chapter, every night I thought “just one more, just one more!” I absolutely loved the story. If you want a more in depth review chapter by chapter, read below. (SPOILERS) 

Again, thank you so much for who ever first made me find this (I actually can’t remember but it was probably a mix of everyone) as well as the album that made the story SO MUCH BETTER. Listening to the music while reading the chapter associated, really made you feel like you were in the story with the characters. I highly recommend reading this comic while listening to the music if any of you have not already. If anyone needs links or more info, feel free to ask!

This part will be a chapter by chapter review/my thoughts (some chapters might be merged together if they have similar topics).

“Of Ducks, Dimes, and Destinies”: I wasn’t sure what to expect going into this, but apparently this chapter was the intro, though it’s more like a AU of sorts. I thought it was cute though seeing Magica out of her element. My favorite part of it had to be her not recognizing young 10 yr old Scrooge while confusing Fergus for the rich old duck. But in her defense, they do look a lot alike.

“The Last of The Clan McDuck”: Now the story really begins! I wanted to get more history on Scrooge so that was one of the main reasons I wanted to read this series. It was actually a bit of a surprise to see the pampered, penny-pincher a humbled, poor and very sweet boy. Seeing how he turned into almost a completely different person is a bit sad really, but at least we know in his later years some of that sweet, caring side is still present. I admire Scrooge’s bravery in how willingly he left his family and the only life he knew for uncertainty and possibly danger at only 13 years old. He certainly matured very fast and unfortunately that forced his childhood to end at an early age.

“The Master of the Mississippi”: This was probably one of my least favorite chapters if I’m being honest. It was fun seeing a teenage Scrooge adapting in his new life in America and Uncle Pothole was certainly an interesting character! Plus seeing the Beagle Boys’ origins was interesting as well.

“The Buckaroo of the Badlands,” “The Cowboy Captain of the Cutty Sark”, “The Raider of the Copper Hill,” Also “The Vigilante of Pizen Bluff”: So all of these chapters are in the “Wild West” portion of Scrooge’s life; his teenage years and early twenties. Seeing Scrooge already fighting for his fortune and failing at every turn was almost surprising in that he always seems to succeed in life. I was so convinced he’d strike it rich on the Copper Hill, but fate seemed to have other plans for him. However at this point in his life he’s still staying true to his roots and vowing to earn his fortune honestly. (But to be fair he does get $10,000. And back then that’s got to have been like a million dollars now a days.) I’d also wondered how he’d get along with animals, and it turns out he’s a real Disney princess. He gives love and respect to animals and they love him in return.

“The New Laird of Castle McDuck”: NERVE RACKING. Not only do the McDuck’s risk losing the ancestral home to their arch nemesis, but Scrooge DIES. (or just gets knocked out?) Anyway he goes to McDuck heaven where he almost stays before finally getting another chance (for becoming the stingiest person to ever live). He ends up using all the money he got from the Copper Hill to pay for the McDuck Castle. Plus we also see Scrooge use his specs for the very first time, though it’s only for reading.

“The Terror of the Transvaal”:  Ah Flintheart, you were a scumbag before Scrooge came into the picture. Scrooge is a lion whisperer apparently, and he makes fun of Flintheart in front of the entire town before throwing him in jail, making a lifelong enemy.

“The Dreamtime Duck of the Never Never”: I was excited for this one. Love that Australian Outback theme! Scrooge rides on a camel head, which is perfect. I still love seeing how much animals love and trust Scrooge. He’s started to become less trusting of people due to being tricked at every turn, and therefore is a bit skeptical of the shaman in the desert. However seeing the dream, or prophesy of sorts, come true (which was super cool btw), it starts his admiration of history and architecture. Scrooge almost took that giant Opal that could easily have made him rich, but that would have been dishonest, and Scrooge decides against it (a bit begrudgingly). I’m so happy he got his dime back, it was worrying seeing him lose hope that his fortune would never come. He’s worked so hard and to give up now would be devastating. Thankfully he was inspired and his story finally started to look up.

“The King of the Klondike”, “The Prisoner of White Agony Creek”, “Hearts of the Yukon”, “The Last Sled to Dawson”: ...no words. I knew these would be my favorite sections. Yukon Scrooge, upper 20′s - early 30′s - in his prime, Scrooge. The beginning of his fortune. The beginning of Goldie. GOLDIE. Where do I even start?! Whew, this is going to be long. First of all, the whole ordeal Scrooge had to go through just to get to White Agony Creek was ridiculous. Finally he finds where the gold should be, but it’s not quite that easy. Everyone in Dawson mocks him endlessly for not spending any money on fun, which is completely unfair. The absolute worst part is when that mean old pig kidnaps him and chains him to the smokestacks of the boat. (Seriously this boy gets knocked out so much I’m surprised he doesn’t have a brain injury) The men mock him and then read the two only letters he’s ever gotten from his family out loud, one of which is from his mother who says they’re falling behind on payments for the castle, and the next...his father informing him that his mother has passed away. The men even mock him in his mother’s death. And Scrooge...freaking pulls a Sampson and pulls the smokestacks until they collapse onto the boat, throws a grand piano through a stained glass window, beats up any and all the men who dare fight him, and then drags the pig’s listless body through the main road in town for all to see until he can throw him to the mercy of the ‘law’ in the area. Then comes Goldie, he kidnaps her, and brings her back to his home for stealing his goose egg nugget (the biggest gold nugget ever) to show her how hard a miner has to work. They stay together alone in the wilderness for a whole month. My gosh was this chapter full of sexual tension. I’m such a die-hard Scroldie shipper now I can’t even deny it. Eventually the two part their ways, but end up meeting again in the near future when Goldie saves Scrooge from losing his claim (in a roundabout way). Then we get to see Scrooge’s last trip to Dawson before leaving the Yukon and moving on with his fortune. He loses his sled and has to return 50 years later to get it with Donald and the boys. The only thing of importance in the sled was old memories, but it was worth the fight for old Scroogey. This section was definitely the best, but molds Scrooge’s rough and tough attitude. 

“The Billionaire of Dismal Downs”: After more than 20 years, Scrooge is finally coming home to Dismal Downs successful, he’s a billionaire. The whole town has come to greet him and as soon as he shows up, they give him a big round of...tomatoes and insults hurling at him. After all he’s done this is how he’s treated??! His wild temper quickly flares and Fergus is surprised at how his son has changed, as well as the town who thought he was such a nice boy. The town people believe he no longer belongs in Scotland. After a quick visit to his mother’s grave insert sobbing here Scrooge decides to participate in the games to show how much he belongs, he even wears a kilt! Now Scrooge should have dominated this, however he’s completely forgotten the rules, and therefore disqualifies himself almost every time. A young boy named Scottie tries to show him the ropes, however fails miserably. Eventually they return to the castle where his sisters make fun of Scrooge’s lock of golden hair hurr hurr and they all decide to move to Duckburg, America, that is, except Fergus who says he’s too old to move again. The chapter ends with ghost Fergus (who’s passed away in the night) and ghost Downy waving goodbye to their children before joining McDuck heaven. I literally cried in this chapter.

“The Invader of Fort Duckburg”, and “The Sharpie of the Culebra Cut”: Some more important chapters, but not extremely interesting in my opinion. We see the founding of Duckburg and the Junior Woodchucks, as well as the Panama Canal and more of Scrooge suffering from his sisters, who make him wear his specs full time after he repeatedly makes mistakes due to his failing eyesight.

“The Empire-Builder from Calisota”: Sigh. We see the deep fall of Scrooge’s morals. He visits his sisters, whom he hasn’t seen in quite a while, and takes them to Africa where he’s working on his current dealings with the natives. Instead of making fair trades like in the past, he uses cunning tricks to minimize his costs in buying the diamond mines he seeks. His sisters criticize him, but he brushes them off. He moves on to a voo-doo native tribe (his first mistake) who doesn’t want to sell. After being humiliated in front of his kin, he goes into town and recruits several people to help him burn down the village and destroy everything in sight while his sisters return to camp, ashamed of their brother. Scrooge then puts on a disguise and ‘rescues’ the clan leader who previously embarrassed him, and tricks him into signing over his land. This is far from the kind, humble, honest boy we knew in the beginning. He returns back to camp, triumphant, to gloat to his sisters only to find they’ve left him. There’s a lone note remaining saying he’s not the man they used to know and to come back once he changes his ways. Scrooge is initially enraged, feeling betrayed. However as he argues with himself, his father’s voice comes into his head, reminding him how he wanted to make his fortune honestly, and has now just committed his first (and only) dishonest trade. Scrooge realizes what he’s done, and as he tries to run after his sisters, the witch doctor returns and casts a curse on him to have a zombie attack him. However Scrooge is still in disguise, and quickly makes himself look normal, which tricks the zombie. However for the next several years the zombie would haunt him and occasionally show up. In Scrooge’s quest to apologize to his sisters, he makes many sidetracks in making his fortune. The zombie even causes the crash of the Titanic that Scrooge was riding on. (seriously everything is his fault) Finally, after 27 years, he returns to Duckburg to stay. His family has heard he was coming and decided to put aside their differences and be a family once again, even bringing the young Donald and Della. However Scrooge has completely changed, for the worse, and completely ignores his family, eventually chasing them out of his life, for good, but not before the young and feisty Donald can give him a kick in the rear.

“The Richest Duck in the World”: Feels. All feels. We finally see Scrooge as the miserable old man we know him as. Alone and bitter and cut off from everyone. But he becomes too lonely one Christmas and invites Donald and the boys up to the mansion, if only to show them the wealth and future inheritance when he’s gone. It’s as if Scrooge is expecting to die fairly soon, and he’s completely given up on everything. The bin is shut down, he’s not making any money or traveling anymore, he doesn’t leave his house, and he hasn’t even swam in his money in years. He really has just given up. But the boys manage to inspire him, in a way that they literally make him so angry he just can’t take it anymore and eventually returns the swift kick to Donald. Afterwards we see rejuvenated Scrooge - though still elderly, he feels full of life once again. Start DuckTales story... 

“The Dream of a Lifetime”: I just had to read this because of the jumps in Scrooge’s dreams through his lifetime. It was adorable seeing young Scrooge, especially 10yr old Scrooge cussing out his nephew Donald for interrupting his dreams. Then on top of all that it ends with Scrooge finally reaching Goldie on the burning stage (which never happened), and the blushinggg hnnghhh and then freaking Donald sitting there watching the whole thing, just yes.

“A Letter From Home”: I had to read this one simply because I had read that Scrooge and Matilda make up. Boy howdy was this an emotional roller coaster, starting with Scrooge visiting his parents’ grave. Tears. Literal tears. Then Matilda wants nothing to do with him, that surprised me a bit considering how sweet and soft-spoken she was when she was younger. Plus she breaks the news about how Fergus never wanted Scrooge to find the treasure and calls him a bad son. My gosh my heart is aching for Scrooge at this point. The antagonist suddenly pulls a gun on Matilda, and Scrooge jumps in front of her without hesitation. Thank goodness the gun ‘misfires’. That definitely changed things between the two. Finally we get to see the interaction we’ve been waiting for. Scrooge and Matilda finally yell talk things out, and somewhat uncharacteristically, Scrooge cries and pleads for forgiveness. However, Matilda finally gets to hear Scrooge’s side and realizes just what he’s been through as well. They find a letter to Scrooge from Fergus, who actually did want Scrooge to find the treasure, and told him he and his mother were proud of him. It was one of the only letters Scrooge ever received from his parents, and he never, since the day they died, knew they were proud of him. sobs

That was a lot longer than necessary but even if you guys only read the sections you want that works. Thank you again!

[sand-rose]

Right back at you for all the ocs! I especially love the name apocothea (I think I spelled it right?) Its super cool!!

Thank you so much!! :) Sorry this took awhile to answer, I’ve been busy with work and other stuff. But here they are! I was actually in the process of redesigning my OCs when I saw the post (thanks to Sims inspiration and wanting to update how I draw them), so it was perfect timing! I don’t have the drawings done yet but maybe soon…

Full Name: Pandora

Gender & Sexuality: Female, Pansexual (yes, punny, but also serious)

Pronouns: She/Her

Ethnicity/Species: my Balanced Ego

Birthplace & Birthdate: my mind, August 10

Guilty Pleasures: She loves taking bubble baths. Bring on the bath bombs and fragrant soaps, and the (pink) rubber ducky is a must! She also loves stuffed animals (especially pandas). And it surprises a lot of people, but she’s also an avid fan of anime/manga and video games.

Phobias: Accidentally losing one of her earrings, which keep her balanced. She’s particularly afraid of what she might do if this happens, because she loses control of herself and becomes truly evil. A past experience in regards to this also makes her uncomfortable around sheep. (Even toys or drawings of sheep. She will get a flashback and start sobbing, apologizing to the ‘poor sheepies’ until they’re out of sight.)

What They Would Be Famous For: Probably owning the only fashion-themed amusement park in the Ego World, or her fashion designs.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Being a public nuisance, like getting too hyper and making too much noise. Because honestly, if someone told her to shut up she would only get louder to spite them. She’s not afraid to get in a fight though, so maybe that too… Maybe for throwing a heel at someone. lol

OC You Ship Them With: Reim. He’s much calmer than her, but loves her crazy antics.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: It. He gets along with Pan better than Aurora, but he can only take so much of her 'hyper hyper happy happy joy joy’ personality.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: romance and rom-coms. The blossoming love between two people! The heartbreaking 'is this it?’ fights! The oblivious misunderstandings! Burnt dinners! The hand holding, the hugs, the kisses…! (You get it.)  

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: When everything turns out to be a dream. Her Host loves this cliche. She hates it because 'what was the point of it all if it never really happened?!’

Talents and/or Powers: She’s a talented fashion designer. She likes to draw, like her Host, but when she became interested in clothes when she was younger she was frustrated that she couldn’t wear the clothes she drew. So she learned how to sew and began making her own clothes. She’s also very imaginative and ambitious.

Why Someone Might Love Them: She’s fun to be around, always a bouncing ball of energy! She likes pretty things, and considers everyone around her to be pretty in their own way. She’s the person who will convince you to try that new thing, or who will say 'Let’s go somewhere, my treat!’ when she sees you need cheering up. She’s also ready to kick ass if anyone dares hurt her friends or loved ones.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: She’s so hyper… Some people might find her hyperness endearing, but some people find it exhausting. She’s also had people judge her before based on her girly-ness, interest in fashion, and how she looks like a typical anime girl, but she doesn’t let it bother her.  

How They Change: She hasn’t changed all that much since I first created her back in middle school. She’s grown a lot more mature emotionally, I think, and she’s more careful about other people’s feelings.

Why You Love Them: She was the last of my Egos to be created, and she’s probably the best representation of who I wish I was. She’s daring, outspoken, bubbly, made a career for herself doing something she loves… I love her because even though that’s not me and probably never will be me, I still like to think that she’s cheering me on. “Don’t be afraid! You can do it!” lol  

Full Name: It

Gender & Sexuality: Male, not sure (he’s never given it much thought)

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: my Alter Ego

Birthplace & Birthdate: my mind, October 31

Guilty Pleasures: He has a collection of weird t-shirts that he’s both bought and designed himself. He also has a collection of light sabers that he may or may not have bought off the Ego World’s black market that trades in Other World (Worlds of Licensed Series) objects…

Phobias: Becoming a soft goody two-shoes like Aurora… Gag.

What They Would Be Famous For: Nothing. He’s too lazy to really stand out much. And he’s fine with that.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Disrupting the peace. He’s got a temper, and when it flares he’s liable to kick/hit any object unlucky enough to be in his way. Be it a trash can, car, mailbox… He’s broken his toes for kicking a brick wall before. He’s also got problems with authority figures since he doesn’t like being told what to do, so if the police show up it would just escalate the situation. There was also the time he bombed Aurora’s house, but that was years ago, when he was jealous he wasn’t my only Ego anymore. He was a lot more evil back then, and Aurora (being the kind soul she is and understanding how he felt) didn’t press charges.

OC You Ship Them With: Apocothea. She keeps him in check and doesn’t put up with his crap, yet somehow sees the… best… in him…?

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Pandora. She gets fed up with his gloomy outlook on life and gets cranky when he gives her attitude. They get into lots of arguments over nothing, especially with their quick tempers.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Horror/Suspense. He likes movies with lots of jumpscares, gore, and freaky nightmarish scenarios. They get his blood pumping and while he’s not that evil enough to enjoy people getting hurt, he likes to think about what he would do if he was trapped in that house trying to escape the serial killer. And of course, though he’s not a clown or even named after said clown, he likes Stephen King novels.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: It was love at first sight. He doesn’t believe in it, and if he sees that cliche he skips a few minutes past it or turns a few pages ahead, hopefully to a less mushy scene.

Talents and/or Powers: He’s great at video games. He actually earns money by playing video games for people who get stuck on them. They send him the game, he plays past the part they got stuck on to the next save, he sends it back. He’s been debating lately if he should start livestreaming, but his laziness in acquiring the equipment and setting up a room for it is currently holding him back.

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s… It. lol He’s an Alter Ego who by all means should be trying to take over the world and plotting evil deeds, but either due to his laziness or from the influence of those closest to him, he just isn’t that into it. He’s just a cranky man that loves to kick over trash cans in my Sims game. lol

Why Someone Might Hate Them: He rubs a lot of people the wrong way, and with good reason. He’s not very social not because he’s shy but because he hates people in general. He comes off as rude when you first meet him, and he likes to glare for no reason. (He probably thinks it makes him look tough.) Honestly it’s a wonder people like him.

How They Change: He’s changed quite a bit since I first created him in middle school! He’s probably the most changed of all my OCs. At first he started out as a wolf demon, but after a few weeks he became my Alter Ego in a human form and stayed that way. He still has fangs, they’re just smaller. They serve no purpose, he just looks good with them! He’s also not as evil as he used to be, but like I said, I like to think that Pan and Aurora are a good influence on him.

Why You Love Them: He was my very first Ego! Way back in 6th grade I used to write and draw my own stories and share them with friends, and he got a pretty good response from them and they wanted to hear more about him. I wrote conversations between me (the Host) and him during free time in class and my friends loved reading them, and it kind of took off from there. Aurora was created next, then Pandora, and even though they were fictional characters I’d made up they started to feel like a second family to me. And they still do! lol

Full Name: Aurora

Gender & Sexuality: Female, Straight

Pronouns: She/Her

Ethnicity/Species: my Good Ego

Birthplace & Birthdate: my mind, February 23

Guilty Pleasures: She likes knitting and has so much yarn she doesn’t know what to do with it. She spoils her cat Cupcake with so many toys she doesn’t know what to do with them all. She has so many recipe books she doesn’t know what to do with them all. She’s actually a very neat person though, so another guilty pleasure would probably be cleaning. lol

Phobias: Heights, needles, and spiders (like her Host). I feel bad she shares my phobias. (Sorry, Aurora!) She’s also afraid of sharks, ever since she watched Jaws years ago and had nightmares for a week about them. She knows it's not good to be afraid of sharks and they get a bad rep, so she's trying to overcome that fear.

What They Would Be Famous For: Her cookies! She owns a bakery and while her cakes, brownies, and cupcakes are delicious, it’s her cookies that rake in the most dough. (Ha.) Every customer has their favorite, but hers is her creamy peanut butter cookies. They’re so soft and chewy, and she sprinkles peanut bits in so there’s a little crunch too!

What They Would Get Arrested For: The day Aurora gets arrested for anything is the day the world ends. She’s too pure, too innocent, to do anything resulting in arrest. She apologizes to insects when she has to capture them before setting them free! She gives away too many free samples at her bakery! She cries when she accidentally forgets to water a plant and it dies! If she ever gets arrested for anything, Pan and It may legit seek revenge to restore her honor…

OC You Ship Them With: Marcus. He’s sweet, she’s sweet! Their relationship might be normal and therefore a little boring to some people, but they love each other and are happy just to be together. They’re like an old married couple. lol

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Not a single soul. Not even It. (Anymore.) She’s too kind for this world. An angel!

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Generally anything except horror and war movies. She gets too nervous and scared watching horror, and gets too emotional watching battles with people fighting and dying. She tends to like comedies the most though, since they’re usually upbeat and make her laugh. She’s also a sucker for heartwarming stories. Those Chicken Soup for the Soul books? She’s probably got the whole collection, regardless of the intended audience.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: 'I had to do it. I had to kill them.’ She refuses to believe that killing is the only option no matter how dire a situation might be and will visibly get upset when she comes across this cliche. When she gets upset her face reddens and her lip wobbles, and if Marcus or Pan is with her she might rant to them about all the other options the protagonist had.

Talents and/or Powers: She is excellent at cooking, but baking is her specialty! If she’s mastered a recipe, she’ll master it again until it’s even better. And if she finds a new recipe, she will pull an all-nighter until she’s perfected it.

Why Someone Might Love Them: She’s such a sweetheart, bless her. She’s what the world needs more of: just honestly pure, good people. She’s the person who if she came across someone in need, she would give them everything she had. If you’re feeling down, she’ll do all she can to make you happy again. She’s definitely the mom friend.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Some might consider her too good. Like It. He gets annoyed when she does things out of the kindness of her heart for no reason. He just doesn’t understand how someone can be that selfless. He thinks of her as a crybaby and she worries a lot, so that irritates him too. And others might be suspicious of her at first, wondering what she’s hiding or what she wants. But once people get to know her, they adore her and look to her for advice if they need help. Or just want free food. lol

How They Change: She’s probably the one who has changed the least. She’s always been the angel on my shoulder, the do-gooder. Someone has to keep the peace with the other two Egos around, after all.

Why You Love Them: Aurora is the one who resembles me the most, both in terms of looks and personality. There are some differences, though. She’s not shy, just quiet and reserved. She’s more comfortable with confrontations than I am, especially if it’s a matter of right vs wrong. I don’t have a problem with horror and war stuff. I wish I knew how to cook/bake. And I don’t think I could ever be as selfless as her. Basically, she’s a goody goody two-shoes, like It says. But it’s not a bad thing!

Full Name: Reim

Gender & Sexuality: Male, Bisexual

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: Ego Entity

Birthplace & Birthdate: Ego World (specifically the city Venia), April 14

Guilty Pleasures: talking to his plants, liking movies that everyone else hates, singing in the shower, and he also enjoys the occasional bubble bath (thanks to Pan convincing him he was missing out on life if he didn’t take one now and then) (she was right)

Phobias: Moths. When he was little a big one got caught in his hair and he accidentally smashed it trying to get it out. It was messy and gross.

What They Would Be Famous For: Hopefully for his paintings! He does all kinds of paintings, and has even had a few displayed in art shows. He likes doing landscape art the best, because he loves plants and nature.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Not that he’s looking to get arrested, but he’s secretly always wanted to experiment with graffiti…

OC You Ship Them With: Pandora. Just when he thinks he knows her, she surprises him and he loves it! She makes him see how exciting and fun life is, and she’s always encouraging him with his latest art project and boasting about his paintings to her friends.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Probably It. It and Reim don’t see eye to eye a lot… Reim’s pretty optimistic, and that clashes with It’s pessimism. They don’t exactly hate each other, but they get on each other’s nerves. “You threw off my groove!” “Fuck your groove!” Yatta yatta…

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: He loves animated movies. As an artist, he really appreciates them and considers them art, so he’s constantly rewinding scenes because he was focusing on the style or shading instead of what was going on. As for books, he likes fantasy. He likes escaping to another world, and fantasy can be anything and everything, just like a painting.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Not really a typical cliche but… He really hates noir style stuff. Noir movies annoy him to no end because there’s no color and he wishes he could restore the color so bad. He needs color! And when people talk noir style, with the witty and flirtatious old-fashioned banter. It’s just so cheesy to him… This extends to books as well. He prefers deep conversations between characters rather than quick one-liners.

Talents and/or Powers: He’s an artist, so he’s well-rounded in a variety of mediums. Painting, drawing, sculptures, photography… He enjoys painting the most though!

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s a down-to-earth guy that has his goals set and has a plan to achieve them. He knows what he wants in life and he also knows not to get his hopes up. He does hope his dreams come true, but if not he’s got plenty of back up plans. He’s just a nice guy in general, always ready to lift the mood with a joke or a grin.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: For people like It, optimistic people can be annoying. No matter the situation, Reim looks on the bright side of things and his pleasant attitude and charming smile can make It angry. Because life sucks, and It knows it, but apparently Reim doesn’t. Reim’s not optimistic all the time, however, and he does have days where he’s a little moody or depressed, but he tends to keep to himself those days (so of course It doesn’t know that).

How They Change: Reim started out as a painting I did my senior year, so I thought it fitting to give him the painter career in my Sims game. Until that point I didn’t know much about him but watching him interact with my other characters has helped me flesh out what kind of person he is. He looked more emo and brooding in the painting, but in Sims he’s a cheerful guy who enjoys life, so I like that change in him.

Why You Love Them: He’s the character I didn’t know was going to be created. But I’m glad I did that painting of him years ago! Before I made him in Sims, I wanted to do more with his character and knew I wanted him with Pandora, but that was about it. Originally Pan was with someone else from an Other World, and for reasons it didn’t work out, but I think she and Reim are a perfect match. They balance each other out.

Full Name: Apocothea

Gender & Sexuality: Female, Demisexual

Pronouns: She/Her

Ethnicity/Species: Ego Entity

Birthplace & Birthdate: Ego World (specifically outside the town Abraxxus), November 2

Guilty Pleasures: Obsessed with Itachi from Naruto, so she has a collection of Itachi merchandise that shouldn’t even exist (her father knows people). She loves anime/manga and video games, and rock/heavy metal music. She also enjoys fan fiction (smut included, but she is picky about it).  

Phobias: This woman has no fear. You should be the one afraid.

What They Would Be Famous For: Not exactly famous, but her old classmates still remember the day the teacher was late and Apocothea calmly walked up to the front of the class and announced the teacher had been in a horrible accident and she was in charge now. She spoke with such authority that no one questioned her, and she proceeded to pass out copies of the 'worst fan fiction she had ever read’ for them to read and critique. It turned out that the teacher had been in a car accident (from speeding), and when the principal delivered the news everyone turned to her in fear. Of course she hadn’t really known… She just saw an opportunity and took it. She needed beta readers for her first fic, after all.

What They Would Get Arrested For: She’s too clever to get herself arrested. Anyone who leaves fingerprints and DNA samples is a Class-A moron. But if she did get arrested, somehow, it would probably be for making the police officer feel like an idiot. Or she would just ignore them and do the opposite of what they ordered her to do out of pure spite. Challenging authority and whatnot.

OC You Ship Them With: It. She wins all the arguments, basically, but they’re stupid arguments to begin with. They bicker back and forth, but it’s from love(?). I don’t know… Their relationship is kind of hard to explain. lol There’s not a lot of typical romance between them, but they do have their moments that say 'Yeah, they’re a couple alright!’

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Nobody’s brave enough to even try murdering her. She’d murder them first.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Like It, she enjoys horror. Except where he’s the guy to think 'what would I do if I was trapped in a house with a serial killer?’, she’s the girl who thinks, 'If I was the serial killer, I’d go after them this way… That guy’s an asshole, anyway.’ She also likes murder mystery novels, but she’s always disappointed when she figures out who the killer is halfway through the book.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: 'The chosen one will save us!’ She doesn’t buy into the whole 'only this person can do it’ trope. Really? Only that person? But he’s an idiot. What if he dies? Then what? Guess the world ends.

Talents and/or Powers: I guess you could say her skill at Guitar Hero is a talent. She’s undefeated with all the Guitar Hero games (every mode, even expert). Other than that, she’s very talented at pretty much anything and everything, but especially at making people feel uncomfortable and fragile in her presence.

Why Someone Might Love Them: If you can get past her intimidating exterior, she’s a pretty cool gal. She’s kind of like Hana-chan from Fruits Basket… The things she says can come off as strange and threatening, but if you become her friend she would quite literally kill for you. She also has a younger sister named Analyse, and you can definitely tell they’re sisters from the way they look and talk.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: She’s very blunt, and if she doesn’t like you she won’t hold back on insults. Lots of people get offended when she does this, but that’s kind of the point. She can also be crafty in the way she talks to people, so sometimes they’re really not sure if she’s insulting them or complimenting them.  

How They Change: She’s changed just a little since I created her. Her relationship with It before was very one-sided, and she liked toying with him. She still likes to, actually, but it’s more affectionate now. She’s always been confident and in charge, but I think being with It has taught her that a relationship requires more teamwork and less blackmail.

Why You Love Them: Again, she’s one of those characters that displays traits I wish I had. She’s not afraid to be assertive, she loves herself for who she is, and doesn’t give a damn what other people think of her. And she gives off this vibe, like you really don’t want to trust that smile she’s wearing. Her calm but menacing demeanor really compliments It’s personality too, I think. He’s fire, she’s ice!

Full Name: Marcus

Gender & Sexuality: Male, Straight

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: Ego Entity

Birthplace & Birthdate: Ego World (specifically a suburban area named Hannen), March 27

Guilty Pleasures: watching YouTube/EgoTube videos, memes, taking internet quizzes… And surprising Aurora on a regular basis with flowers and chocolate like the romantic sap he is!

Phobias: Puking and cuts on the skin. When he’s sick he gets very agitated and nervous and will refuse to eat solid food in case he can’t keep it down. (Soup and water only, basically.) With cuts, it’s not the blood he fears but the sensation of skin splitting. It stems from when he was a teenager and got a deep cut on his knee. Little nicks while shaving are no biggie, but papercuts make him lightheaded and make his skin crawl.

What They Would Be Famous For: He’s a very relaxed guy who honestly doesn’t stand out much, but his friends know him as the tech guy. Computer or game console acting up? Marcus knows how to fix it. TV or phone bugging out? Call Marcus, he’s your guy.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Like Aurora, he would never get arrested for anything. He’s too nice to do anything like property damage or fighting, and he’s never gotten a ticket for anything in his life.

OC You Ship Them With: Aurora. They’re so precious together, too good, too sweet! They dote on each other and probably unintentionally make other couples jealous. lol

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: It. Another goody goody two-shoes frustrates him even more than one. The only thing It appreciates about Marcus is that he’s not above using swear words (unlike Aurora). And maybe the fact that he’s willing to fix It’s laptop and game systems for free.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: He really likes documentaries and informational books. He’s always interested in learning something new, and he’d much rather watch an hour-long documentary on EBS than watch the newest hit movie. He was the kid in school who always read the assigned Literature, Real World History & Ego World History, and Science books for fun.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: He doesn’t like when a side character you grew attached to suddenly dies. They make you care about them, only to kill them off! What the hell?

Talents and/or Powers: Talented with fixing all things tech. He does claim it’s his superpower! lol

Why Someone Might Love Them: When you find a genuinely nice guy who cares a lot about you, you struck gold! Aurora loves his soft, sensitive side when he’s alone with her and also loves his corny jokes. People in general like how laid back he is, as he’s very patient and knows everybody makes mistakes. He’s the guy who will walk an old lady across the street if she needs help, the guy who literally climbed a tree to get a cat out of it (sneaky little Cupcake!). Nice guys do exist, and he’s one of the best!

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Again… There’s people like It. They get annoyed with the whole 'nice guy act’, especially once they learn it’s not an act at all but just how he is. They might get jealous when they see how much other people like him, but more often than not they come around, especially after he helps them with something and expects nothing in return.

How They Change: His character hasn’t changed much, either. He’s thoughtful, kind, cheerful… He’s popular with everyone he hangs out with, because he gets along with pretty much everyone. He’s polite, open to new things and opinions, and though he admits he might be a little boring to be around he also doesn’t mind. Such a great guy!

Why You Love Them: He and Aurora are a pair of cinnamon rolls, too sweet, too pure for this world! Even though I created him long before I met Alex, he reminds me of him. lol Marcus is the perfect example for how you should treat your loved ones, and anyone you meet, really. He’s like the Mr. Rogers of the gang, I guess you could say. He just wants everybody to respect each other and be kind to themselves and others.

Sorry if this got super long, I just really love these characters. lol Also! When I was reading your OC post I found it really cool that some of our characters have birthdays either on the same day or really close, that made me smile! :D

Thanks so much for the ask again!!

[goddessofthundathighs]

The Aftermath

Pairing: Poly!Erik x Hennessy Stevens-Udaku

Word Count: 2,163

Premise: After feeling under appreciated, everyone’s favorite wife decided to take a leave of absence. What’s the worse that could happen?

Warning: Angst with a little fluff

A/N: I apologize in advance for how this may affect you all.

“Now get yo filthy impertinent ass up out my room.”

The words replayed over and over in her head as she cleaned herself up. She’d had a time freeing herself from the expertly tied rope, but once she did, a new rage boiled inside of her. She was used to being punished, but what had just transpired was nothing short of torture and she wouldn’t stand for it.

She dressed like she would for a mission: coils braided into two French braids, black long-sleeved crop top, camo pants and combat boots. She loaded her duffle with all of her tactical gear and a couple weeks worth of clothes and purposely left her phone and kimoyo beads on her bed. She knew how life was without him; she’d done just fine on her own before they met. Without a second glance she loaded her belongings into her army green G Wagon and left the lavish estate. She was back to square one: alone and off the grid, living life on her terms.

He hadn’t seen her all day, but he was used to her disappearing after a punishment. Their attitudes were similar so he figured she needed time to reconstruct her ego. This punishment had been the worse he’d ever delivered to her, not because he wanted to, but because he was sick of hearing the others complain about how lenient he was on her and she’d really fucked up this time. To an extent the other wives were expendable, but Hennessy? The world would burn if anyone harmed a hair on her tiny head.

1 week. 168 hours, 10,084 minutes, 604,800 seconds since she’d been gone. The house had an eerie chill and was strangely quiet despite its many inhabitants. After the third day of her absence, he made the short venture to her bedroom. To the untrained eye, everything was in its rightful place; but no one knew her the way he did. One glance in her closet told him everything he needed to know. All of her tactical gear was missing and her gold iPhone 8 Plus rested in the middle of her plush green comforter along with her kimoyo beads. Her puppies Sosa and Cocoa sat quietly in their kennels. His heart ached a bit. After years of his bullshit, she’d finally left him.

_______________________________________________

The palace was a madhouse. Erik had taken a leave of absence and Killmonger was now running the show. Hennessy was still M.I.A. which meant the rest of the wives were feeling the brunt of his anger.

“Where the fuck is she?” Bastion whispered angrily to Angel and Aly’Sha.

“No one knows,” Angel responded. “She left her phone and her kimoyo beads here and Ashley said that all of her tracking devices had been disabled.”

“This bitch just doesn’t give a shit about our well-being!”

Bastion was furious. She had never been one to bite her tongue, but she also wasn’t stupid. Killmonger was an entirely different beast, and after their last altercation, she vowed to never find herself on his bad side again.

“ANGEL!” he screamed from his bedroom.

“Welp, guess that my cue ladies,” Angel remarked before slowly retreating down the hallway. The last week had been especially stressful for her. Her peaceful demeanor meant that whenever Killmonger felt the need to destress, he called upon her. She was exhausted and wanted Hennessy back more than anyone else.

______________________________________________

Hennessy reclined in the hot bath, allowing the soothing scents of lavender and vanilla to invade her senses. The last few days had been exactly what she needed: peaceful and quiet. She was thankful that she’d secretly kept her old condo despite her husband’s protests. Speaking of her husband…

A lone tear fell as she toyed with the ring on her left hand. She missed him, but was just as stubborn as he was when she was hurting. Though everyone else in the house respected her and her position, she couldn’t help but feel inadequate at times, like there was a constant competition that she seemed to be losing.

She allowed the last few tears to fall before exiting the bath. She wrapped herself in her robe and pondered the last few years of her life. Financially, she was more than capable of living without him. She owned several dispensaries and could sweet talk a rattlesnake out of its rattle if necessary. But her heart was an entirely different story. It had been 10 years since he’d infiltrated her life and she’d be lying if she said her entire world didn’t revolve around him. But even still she was tired and angry. She hated feeling as though she was on the back burner of his affection, though she was fully aware of what she’d be getting herself into when she agreed to the arrangement. More tears fell as she allowed her wayward thoughts to completely consume her.

“What are you going to do if I ever decide to leave, Erik?”

She could tell the question caught him off guard by the way his body went rigid, but in true Erik fashion, he quickly recovered.

“You ain’t going nowhere Henny. You love a nigga too much,” he replied smugly before pulling her closer into his arms. Before this conversation, he’d never imagined life without his feisty munchkin. Ever since that fateful day he stumbled on her doorstep, she’d been there. She stuck by his side for everything, even the Wakandan takeover and failure. He remembered her teasing him, singing “Oh I just can’t wait to be king” at the top of her lungs once he finally came to. She was his best friend and the love of his life. Though he had 10 other wives, there was something about the good doctor that had him hooked.

Her heart had never ached this much. She wanted to go home, wasn’t sure of she was ready for the beast that awaited her.

2 weeks. 336 hours, 20,168 minutes, 1,209,600 seconds since the lavish palace had only been a speck in her rear view mirror. After a much needed break, Hennessy Stevens-Udaku was finally home. She’d barely gotten all the way in the door before she felt tiny arms wrapping around her neck, squeezing for dear life.

“Thank Bast you’re back,” the little woman said. “He’s been on a rampage the entire time. How dare you leave without telling anyone where you were going? That’s the reason you got punished last time.”

Hennessy stared at the little woman as though she’d grown another head. For a split second, she contemplated leaving again, but the dark figure looming in her peripheral vision stopped her.

“I missed you too Baby,” she responded before moving to her bedroom. The tiny woman followed behind her, finally releasing all of the anger she had built up over the last two weeks.

“I was forced to bite my tongue the entire time you were gone because you decided to unleash the beast! He almost broke Aly’Sha’s X-Box and don’t get me started on poor Angel! All of us have had to deal with the monster you created and you’re just standing here like you don’t give a shit!” Hennessy listened to Bastion rant for a little while longer before putting a hand up, stopping her mid-sentence.

“Listen, I’m sorry, ok? I’m sure shit has been rough around here, but I needed to get away for awhile. I honestly didn’t think he’d notice I was gone.”

“BITCH!” Aly’Sha’s voice called from the hallway. Hennessy knew she was in for another earful from the medium sized, younger version of herself. Before Aly’Sha could begin her rant, however, Hennessy’s icy stare cut her off.

“Listen, I said I was sorry. Y’all know I don’t apologize for shit so y’all better take it and leave me the hell alone.”

“Yes, Kitana,” Bastion replied before sashaying out of the room. Aly’Sha remained. She’d been just as worried about Hennessy as Erik was. They talked about everything, so the fact that she’d left without telling her really hurt her feelings.

“I really am sorry,” Hennessy stated, sensing Aly’Sha’s agitation.

“I know, but it still hurts,” Aly’Sha replied.

“You know he cried, right?”

Erik Stevens? Crying? That was new.

“I just needed some time. I almost asked him for a divorce.”

“A what?!”

Her body went rigid. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing in the doorway, but she could tell by his tone of voice that he was far from happy. Aly’Sha took this as her cue to exit. She hugged Hennessy one more time before retreating to her gameroom.

She continued unpacking her belongings, refusing to meet his stare. This was the longest that she’d been away from him with no communication and she knew that he wouldn’t rest until he’d learned the reason for her unannounced disappearance.

“So you wanna tell me why you had me sitting up here playing where in the world is Henny Sandiego?”

If the situation had been different, she’d have laughed at his response, but even she knew not to play with him when he got like this.

“I just needed time, N’Jadaka.”

His eyes softened at the mention of his given name. Though he was livid with her, he was happy that she was home.

“You were gonna divorce me?” he asked, voice just above a whisper.

“I honestly don’t know what I was going to do. I felt like I had been replaced. It felt like I’d gone from being your number one to number 1001. It felt like I’d been replaced ten times over.”

His arms found her waist instantly. This side of her was something new. She always exuded confidence and to hear that she’d been feeling less than broke his heart.

“I’ll drop them all like a bad habit if you really feeling a way, Mama.”

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him.

“I didn’t stutter,” he stated, catching her expression in the mirror.

“You can’t just say stuff like that, Daka,” she replied, voice dropping to the same level as his.

“I know, but I mean it. At the end of the day, if you really feel like that, then yeah I’d do it. You were my first, I’ve known you the longest, and we’ve been through some heavy shit together. I know I’ll never find another one like you.”

She briefly met his gaze in the mirror before turning away again.

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward around here. I love you all, that’s undeniable, but there’s a love I have for you that’s unmatched.”

“I get that Daka, which is why I’d never make you choose. All I’m saying is sometimes it gets frustrating having to share you with so many others. I know that this is what I signed up for when I agreed to this arrangement, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I get that too, Henny. You’ve never liked sharing,” he chuckled quietly. “But I don’t want you to forget that I’ll always come back to you. It might take a minute, but I’ll always come back. Nobody gives cuddles like Henny,” he stated, softly squeezing her sides.

She met his gaze in the mirror once again before snatching away from his grasp.

“Really nigga? All I’m good for is cuddles?” she asked, placing her hands on her ample hips.

“Nah. That pussy is pretty amazing too,” he replied, flashing those gold fronts that she loved so much.

“Bye nigga!” she replied, pushing him towards the door. “You can get the hell out since all I’m good for is pussy and cuddles,” she said.

He turned around suddenly, taking both of her wrists in one hand.

“You good for more than that Princess. You smart as fuck.” he kissed her forehead. “Your cooking is amazing.” he kissed her nose. “And you make sure a nigga does whatever he has to do to be successful,” he said before kissing her lips.

She smiled softly at his compliments, but she still played hard to get.

“Plus you got them pretty ass eyes and that pretty ass smile. You got a nigga weak, girl.”

She was full on grinning at this point. Hearing him admit that he’d drop all of the other wives definitely fed her ego, but she’d never let him do it. As annoying as they were, she’d grown to love them just as much as he did and couldn’t imagine the palace without them.

“I love you Hennessy Monae Stevens-Udaku,” he stated, placing soft kisses along her jawline.

“I’m sorry for making you feel less than and I promise I’ll do better in showing my appreciation.”

She hummed in agreeance, smiling in spoiled Princess the way she often did when she got her way. The rest of the wives cheered silently outside of her bedroom door, thankful that peace had been restored in the palace and that the beast had been returned to the fiery pits of hell where he belonged.

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[splinteredsinner]

Mentions: Jamie B (ex), Parents, Sister, Marcel, Katherine, William and Madeline. Location: Mystic Falls, her home. Triggers: Distress, Grief, Abuse, Hallucinations, Language. 

Aria had been keeping to herself these last few weeks. The fact her ex knew she was alive wasn’t ideal, nor was the followers of his he kept sending to watch her. Naturally, the vampires paranoia about who was around her was high at all times, but after she spotted and killed the tenth follower he sent, you could say she’d loosened up and dropped her guard a few inches. Almost like she’d begun to expect the people who loved him rather than the man himself - she wasn’t afraid of them, only him, not that she would admit that, not even to herself. Aria was on her home to pack for New Orleans, naturally, she wanted to be in the company of her family and home city. The wind was calm and with a few drinks in her system, she wasn’t paying much attention as she walked up her drive, noticing the front door was cracked open only when she was a couple steps away. People letting themselves into her home without an invite had become something of a bad habit these days, so with a roll of her eyes she pushed the door open and dropped her keys on the table. Maybe it was Marcel. Katherine? William or even Madeline? “You know, doors get locked for a reason,” she called out in mild annoyance as she walked to the living area, figuring that’s where she would find the culprit. Instead, what she found when she turned the corner, was three human-sized stuffed dolls hanging from her lights. “What th-” her words were cut off and she was brought to her knees by a pair of hands that took a nasty grip on the sides of her head.

The searing pain had her close to tears so when it stopped? A big breath fell from her lungs. “That was not very nice.” Aria hissed, though she had no idea who she was addressing. Her eyes opened and she blinked at the floor as she rose back to her feet in a slight haze. It was only when she looked back up at the dolls that all the oxygen in the room seemed to be sucked right out. Gone were the dolls and there hung the bodies of her parents and sister exactly how she recalled seeing them on that dreadful day. “No,” she whispered, her feet stumbling backwards. The vampire would have fallen to the ground without being halted by a bruising grip on her arm and a fist in the back of her hair so she couldn’t turn away. Logically she knew this couldn’t be real, that it was some trippy witchy juju, but that didn’t matter. This might not be real right now, but it was real back then. If ever there was a memory that could pierce through every tough layer of her skin, it was this. The tears were already blurring her vision and a choked sob that she forced back down her throat could be heard when she heard the whisper of her holder in her ear. “My sweet Aria, how I have missed you.” Goosebumps prickled all across her skin as she didn't need to see the face to know exactly who that voice belonged to. “Jamie.” Without vampire hearing, his name wouldn’t even be audible. Aria desperately wanted to fight her way out his grip but it was like every inch of her was as frozen as it was locked in his grasp. 

“Do you like the view? You know I always dabbled in theatrics, I thought this would remind you of the good old days,” he cooed in her ear. By now, her eyes were already fixated on her family in spite of the fact she knew it was a hallucination. Any sassy remarks she might have had were gone in the wind, she couldn’t even utter a syllable, let alone a sentence. Fuck. Marcel was right - as always. She couldn’t do this alone, she wasn’t brave, she wasn’t fearless or strong, not when it came to her ex. Aria had never allowed herself to process everything he did to her and what he did to her family and it showed in the way he managed to silence and glue her to the ground with one vision. “Little much, Ari?” Jamie taunted, giving a whistle which she only assumed was a signal because, in the next few seconds, the room returned to its original state. Aria could once again see the dolls but it did little to help her breathe - mostly, she was just trying not to let her legs give way. If she was honest with herself she felt like if a black hole swallowed her up right now it would be a blessing. Removing the hand he curled in her hair, he used the one he had on her arm to swing her body around and face him. 

As if it was pure instinct her eyes had dropped down to avoid his face, not that it mattered much when the grip on her jaw forced her head up. Face to face, eye to eye, she dared not speak because if she did, it wouldn’t just be the misty eyes he saw, he’d hear the shake in her voice. “You’ve changed a lot over the decades. Darkness becomes you, Miss. Hale,” leaning back to look at her black attire. “And that vicious attitude, I have to say I’m pleasantly surprised. Do tell me, was it I who inspired the vixen in you? I do hope so, I might not be your sire, but I am your creator.” Jamie loosened his grip on her jaw to caress her cheek. “Stop.” Finally, she bit at him, turning her cheek away from his touch in an instant. “You didn’t make me. I made me.” For these fleeting moments at least, her fury had pushed down any fear that was churning in her stomach, much to his amusement. “She speaks,” he beamed a charming smile and let go of her, almost like he knew she was too shocked to move or attack him quite yet. “You were always my favourite. The way you submitted to my every whim and desire,” there was a sickening purr to his tone that only fuelled the bubbling rage slipping through her bones and into her blood. “I really did love you, Aria,” Jamie admitted, pulling a scoff from Aria’s lips.

Whatever he felt for her was not love, she knew that now, he wasn’t able to convince her otherwise. Aria wasn’t that naive little girl anymore, she knew a manipulative man when she saw one and with that in mind, she straightened her posture and held his gaze. “You may have gotten under my skin back then but you don’t have that power over me anymore. Whatever you’re here to do, get it done.” Her tone was as solid as her stance. Certain he was here to end her like he tried to do all those years ago, she’d be damned if she let him take her down a shaky, vulnerable mess. “What do you think I’m here to do?” Jamie suddenly looked overly amused. “I was going to turn you that night your King interrupted. It was all such a tragic misunderstanding.” He sighed. “I felt as though he had snatched you away from me and I acted out of blind rage in response to losing you.” He was referring to what he did to her family and the fact he even said it had her entire expression twisting in disgust and confusion. She would never know if that was true or not and honestly she didn’t care either. “Or at least I assumed I lost you. But here you are. Alive and...” he paused, blowing out an appreciative whistle. “Time has been very kind to you. Aria, I’m not here to kill you, I’m here wondering if you could be as loyal to me now as you were back then.” What the fuck. She thought. He looked so serious and that’s because he was. He was just that delusional to think she would, for a second, want to be anything other than his demise. 

“You must be fucking joking,” she snarled. Not to her surprise, his response was a harsh slap that he didn’t give her time to retaliate to. Her back was slammed against the wall and his hand was around her throat. Aria thought digging her nails into his chest would make him loosen up but he didn’t even flinch. In fact, there was a glimmer in his eyes like he almost enjoyed the pain. “Is that a no?” Unable to speak through his choking hold, she chose to respond by dragging her nails down his chest, ripping at least half an inch into his skin. Jamie hissed, but it didn’t last long before he started laughing. “Tell me something,” his eyes were on the already healing wounds before they turned to her left hip. “If I’m so far in your past,” his free hand tugged at the side of her jeans, pulling them just enough to display the mark he’d branded into her skin so many moons ago. “Why haven’t you covered this over?” Turning his gaze back to her, he almost looked curious, enough to allow her to reply, so it seemed. Aria breathed and swallowed now she had the room to do so and she faintly shook her head. “It reminds me never to be so naive again.” She was honest, at least, right before she delivered a harsh knee to his gut followed by a punch to his face.

He laughed before he swung back and the two brawled violently for a good minute, smashing through the tables, cabinets, turning over the chairs and spilling blood all across the front room. This was what she was good at, god damn it. Fighting vampires? She did that for sport. Except, it was never easy. Usually, the risk of losing was what she enjoyed, but the risk of losing to him was throwing her way off her game. With a split second decision to turn her gaze to a weapon to use against him, he used it to dig his hand into her chest cavity. Aria cried out and if it hadn’t been for him stilling her body, she’d have probably caused her own death by wriggling. “Now look what you’ve made me do?” He snapped, pulling his hand out only to grip her face with the same one, smearing her own blood all over her jaw and cheek. “You’ll come back to me, Aria, or so help me, I’ll turn your two favourite hunters inside out and feed them to your King,” he was furious, it showed in every crease on his face. Aria didn’t want anything to happen to William and Madeline and she knew he wasn’t bluffing when he said he would hurt them. “Now, I’ll give you time to think about it, but one word to anyone, especially Marcel...” He whistled and shook his head. “It would be a very big mistake.” Dipping down, he forced a kiss upon her forehead. Aria squeezed her eyes shut and when she felt him let go, she opened her eyes to find an empty house. Her legs no longer even tried to hold her weight now he’d left and she collapsed to the floor with a broken cry. Jamie would make good on his threats, they were like his promises. She already knew what she had to do. Keep Marcel in the dark, push William and Madeline far away from her and figure out how to put Jamie down, alone.