#⁎ || sometimes to win you’ve got to sin ( desires. )

[lxmelle]

The currency of love

I sometimes read things on social media about how some fans are upset that Gojo didn’t mention his students in the afterlife. To the point where there comes theory after theory over why he will come back to life.

I get it. I do. It’s understandable. Not only for those who think the strongest should win, but also those who wish to see their beloved Gojo sensei show love to his students. Amongst other reasons of course.

I somehow also see how this desire for his resurrection comes at the expense of Gojo who clearly didn’t seem to want to be back to life in 236. Is it really loving Gojo to want him back to life to have that burden all over again? And idk, why is there really a doubt that he cared? Does he need to be revived in order for this to be demonstrated? I guess there is a wish for it to be confirmed more, like they need it mentioned aloud / shown more.

I mean, I do get the desire for it to be validated, just as I also love the feeling of seeing Satosugu moments.

However, I do want to bring to attention the factor of how there are many ways in which love is expressed. Just as much as there are many different types of love.

I’ll be brief.

For Geto, his whole CT is about self-sacrifice Currency of love. For Gojo, he was born to be Strong and this was a Currency of love for him. (There are obviously different currencies, but I won’t elaborate further for the purposes of being as succinct as possible)

Geto - self sacrifice. I’ll work hard for a purpose, swallow cursed balls, commit sins, create a new world meticulously, sacrifice my love and myself.

Gojo - strength. Get strong, find strength, be selfish. Protect, save. And literally, his body was given up for others to inherit. Like a businessman gifting his empire to his kin. If that’s not a form of love then what is? How can he come back to life if that isn’t even an option once you’re dead? Going North is NOT COMING BACK TO LIFE.

The fact that Gojo worked with others like his students to create a plan of action speaks volumes. He pushed himself hard in the battle : to look cool and be a good example for them, mentioning them, including them openly in his words to Sukuna - as if to say, “look closely! This is how you do it. This is how you be strong. Fight with all that you’ve got. Be victorious.”

Obv it’s different to the love between him and Geto - because love for others like children and students will never replace that or your life partner / soulmate. It’s just different. It cannot be expected to be the same. His question to who he was (strong or himself) had been answered: he is both, but he wanted to be human, lived mostly like a human, and being human in the afterlife meant being who he was (so he chose South).

I don’t know why Gege didn’t write Gojo talking about the students. But, I think it’s pretty obvious that Gojo cared and gave the battle his all... and gave his students his all too.

Geto’s family inherited his will. His currency of love.

Gojo’s family inherited his weapon. His currency of love.

[wroteclassicaly]

for the hot scenario thing… thinking about eddie cumming in you and steve eating it out before he fucks you then we he cums in you eddie cleans you up. steddie brain rot is so real

HATE | No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | F*CK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

First of all, thank you! And second, you’re probably gonna get more than you bargained for with this one, lol. My brain is going to town on me, quite literally, so… I hope you like this? ;)

From the post here

Send me a hot scenario and I will rate it

Warnings: Language, NSFW, anxiety and self-esteem mentions (it’s brief), slight masturbation, Steve has a daddy kink, mirror play, squirting, handjobs, oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, fluff, slow sex, rough sex, creampie, cum eating, and MORE!

~*~

You aren’t exactly sure what you did to deserve this? Maybe winning some jackpot lottery on the sexual spectrum that life offers, but you won’t complain. Not when you’ve got the two hottest guys in Hawkins—no, in the entire fucking world—at your feet, worshipping, praising, encouraging, soothing you into their sins.

~*~

Lately, you hadn’t been your boisterous self, and though you tried to hide it, your boyfriends noticed. The kind of red flag, bells tolling, alarms beeping—type of noticing.

Your calls became less audible, the desires to go out in public and have any sort of human interaction that wasn’t with your shared group of friends, becoming too non-existent for their comfort. And that’s what one of the main rules when all this started was. Comfort. Your distress was alarming, and they couldn’t stand it any longer, having sought you out. It wasn’t a simple thing, by any means, but it was a fixable situation.

You were feeling briefly lost, on the cusp of floating through the motions, unmentioned. Eddie was the first to corner you, having gotten out of band practice before Steve got off work, given the go ahead to make some headway and cheer you up. He questioned you outright, knowing that sugar coating anything isn’t the forte you abided by. You’d shrugged a shoulder, your floral pastel t-shirt blowing in the breeze of your exasperated arms, as they thumped into your lap. Your fingers had reached out to touch Eddie’s knee through ripped denim, playing aimlessly with the threads to avoid direct confrontation.

Eddie had coaxed it from you by willing his newfound patience (a trait learned from Steve), and you had admitted to being overwhelmed with the relationship. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made you feel undeserving. After all, as you had explained, how could someone like you appeal to men like them? Whilst Eddie had explained that the three of you were the most unexpectedly, oddest people in Hawkins to become linked—it worked. And why did it work, exactly?

Love. He couldn’t feel his fucking arms without seeing Harrington’s dumbass little smirk everyday, he wouldn’t be able to take in a steady breath unless your lips hit his cheek on your way out the door. Without ‘this’, as he’d motioned with ringed hands in explanation— his balance shifted. Nothing would be right if none of you were together. You had cried when he finished his statement, moisture getting caught in your lash line as he had asked, “How does all this feel for you, baby? You know we can stop if it’s not something you are really ready for.”

But you’d objected rather vocally and quickly, soothing Eddie’s erratic breathing. He understood being caught up in overwhelming moments, and the incredulous wonder of you three.

“Feels like I’m floating, or sometimes I can’t even comprehend basic, normal, everyday things, because Steve’s voice does that raspy thing when he first wakes up. Everything goes fuzzy in my head and I swear I short circuit after you come home from practice, with that smirk on your pretty mouth. And… fuck it, my chest hurts when I see you at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette, attempting to keep that hair off your face as you work on campaign sheets for the kids, and Steve pulls it back for you. And I just look, I fucking see. I’m in—“

“Love?” Eddie had finished, a thumb brushing your mouth’s corner.

The veil had lifted off your mood, a phantom air so fresh and clear inside of you that you could taste and smell it. Steve had called in between customers and Eddie had pressed the receiver to your ear, watching as the insecurities poured out of your mouth, easier than the air you needed to survive. He’d kept a hand on your back, rubbing to reassure, to give you the time you need to tell Steve what you had told him, including your observations and declarations. Your shared partner was smooth and gentle, a tone reserved for you and Eddie, as he addressed the matter.

“If you both could feel how whipped I am for you, how much I love you…” Steve had cupped his hand over the phone to muffle his words from prying patron ears.

You’d blushed, squirming a little. Eddie saw, of course he did. He’d leaned by your head, cheek to cheek. “Think one of your words just lit her fuse, Harrington.”

Steve got off work pretty quickly that night. And after airing your feelings out to your boyfriends completely, Eddie wasted zero time reminding you about that word that set your inferno ablaze. Whipped.

“Sex, sex, sex. Is that all you ever think about, babygirl?” Steve had stroked your dumbfounded expression after teasing you with his words, and you—the way you encouraged them to push you further, pull you back into entanglement.

After your confession time, you were left with a need so raw and full, you’d die if it wasn’t satiated.

~*~

“Wait a second.” Eddie pauses his sturdy thrusts, his thick cock throbbing inside your overly wet pussy. You dig into his shoulders, nails scraping his slick skin, and mewl into the safe confines of his neck. “Shh, I know, sweetheart. M’ gonna move in a sec. I just want to try something.” He coos, cigarette stained breath hot on your mouth. “Harrington. I know you have a full length mirror in here somewhere.”

You can’t help the automatic reaction your body has to his words, clamping down, sucking his cock in deeper, causing it to squish against that delicate spot. Both of you groan, your legs hiking higher around his waist. “Holy Christ.” You whimper, earning a laugh from Eddie. Steve joins back in, seconds later, a long mirror in hand. He stumbles with it, earning a fond smirk from Eddie.

“And they say I’m the clumsy one.”

“Keep talking like that and see how well you can fuck our girl with your mouth full, Munson.”

Yep, that’s it.

Your head falls back onto the couch, limbs reduced to complete puddles of jello. Eddie praises your love for their filthy banter, multi-tasking Steve in helping him adjust that full length crystal by verbal instruction, until you catch a view so damned debaucherous that you’re probably going to hell when you cum. He’s still inside you, making it hard to catch your breath, a trembling vibration in your bones. “Eddie, please.”

The expanse of his semi-tall structure is on full display, those tattoos like sinful vines that you ache to climb, to taste. Licking your lips, it’s obvious to both panting men in the room that, yes, you like this. A lot.

“Oh, look at her, Harrington. She’s cock drunk and obsessed with my backside.” The metalhead spares a look through frizzy, sweat soaked curls, moaning around a mouthful of garbled words.

“Keep fucking her, Eddie.” Is a command that dips off Steve, that thick fucking cock leaking in his shiny fist.

Eddie and you watch his motions in simultaneous harmony, Eds picking speed back up his rhythm, suddenly shifting into railing you into the couch cushion—every lump and bump in worn pillowing—visible. Your lids have fluttered closed against an onslaught of distinctly, familiar pleasure. It’s happened before with a lot of grunting teamwork, often leaving you overstimulated and begging to be released and brought back into it, but this time it’s happening with only Eddie’s cock. Everyone hears it before Eddie says anything. That increasingly loud squelch that becomes a vulgar sloshing.

Eddie’s chocolate irises are gone beneath two black lakes, his mouth red and swollen from eager and sloppy kisses, courtesy of you and Steve. His hand lifts your thigh a little higher, the other motioning Steve over. “You hear that, Stevie? Our little girl is gonna squirt all over my cock.”

Steve rubs a fast palm down his dick, enjoying the aching stimulation. He tilts his head in curiosity, his hickeys visible all across his neck and collar bones. You smirk through the haze of pleasure, hand reaching out for him as he bends a little, letting you run your fingers through tufts of chest hair, amused as he adds in, “Yeah, think you can do it without either one of us touching that sweet clit, honey?”

“M’ gonna try. Eddie…?” You lift your other leg to lock them around Eddie’s back, pleading for him to go faster, but Steve is halting the motions, stepping into view and lifting your left leg onto Eddie’s shoulder, having you maneuver the other around his lower waist, moving off to the side and making sure Eddie feels every inch of his soaking cock drag across the rockstar’s backside.

With this, you can still see your reflection, but it has Eddie driving into that spongey spot at an angle so sharp, you swear you black out. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Shit, dammit. She’s squeezing my soul out, straight through my dick.” Eddie says, then whimpers and grips your jaw, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to slam himself into your cunt so hard that you feel the slip and slide of your pelvic bones, his happy trail giving your clit feather light strokes on the up. “M’ gonna cum inside her. Think I should?”

Steve doesn’t waste a second. “Soak that pussy, Eds.”

Their words bring a waterfall over your entire nervous system, a scream ripping straight through your diaphragm, and bouncing off your lungs, leaving your throat raw, and you winded. That impending climax dangling by a scrap.

“She’s getting wetter, Steve. Get the fuck over here and open your mouth. Show our girl you appreciate the show she’s getting ready to put on for us.”

Steve kneels, your leg releasing and lifting onto his shoulder, draping down that freckled back. His voice is hot and raspy, as he says, “Squirt for me, baby. Daddy needs to get wet.”

Your clit tingles with the release before your pussy feels the impact, a warmth spreading through you in a honey dripping sheath. Your muscles tighten and then relax themselves, a clear burst of your cum squirting from your cunt and around a stuttering Eddie as he fucks you through it. Steve’s pinching the meat of your inner thigh, tongue out and accepting the translucent spray, marveling in how it’s soaking his face and chin, some dripping off his chestnut tousled tresses. You can’t breath, can’t scream, you fucking cum. Eddie’s thrusts grow erratic, and you pull on his long hair, Steve slapping his ass, and he’s done for, warm spurts coating your insides in his cream.

He collapses onto your heaving bosom, panting and quivering, you struggling to take in air yourself. Steve, still hard as a rock—agonizingly so—helps Eddie slide out and off of you, kneeling completely and dragging you to the end of the couch, tongue clicking to the roof of his mouth. By this time you’ve managed to prop up a little bit, watching his back muscles move with every shift, those freckles begging to be licked. Eddie’s mirror idea may just be his best one yet.

“Oh, Harrington, you filthy slut.” Eddie knows just the direction his boyfriend is headed in, and he steadies himself beside you on the couch, palming your breasts and pinching your nipples, rings stroking back and forth to stimulate the areola.

“He’s not gonna…” You trail off.

“You made Stevie bring out the D word, Y/N. He’s going to, and we’re gonna watch him, do you understand me?”

That playful, but dominant tone has you captivated, obeying with a nod and accepting Steve’s scorching mouth. He jerks your knees apart, flattening his tongue as it licks a broad stripe up your sopping wet cunt. His mouth is drenched in yours and Eddie’s releases, Steve making sure he doesn’t waste a drop, watching you both through a very thin ring of hazel. You can’t look away from his muscular physique and every single one of those unrealistic freckles that keep you high on everything Steve Harrington. When the former prom King has managed to suck on every inch of your labia, crudely clean every cum slick crease, he lifts his head, a blob still left on his tongue.

He beckons you, Eddie pushing your sweaty back to help you meet Steve in a rough kiss, sharing that particular mixture. You run your fingers through his hair, arching as if you’re a magnet and he’s earth’s gravity personified. On a messy breakaway, saliva and remains of arousal stretch, Eddie weaving his ring covered fingers through, in awe of how it causes the jewelry to glisten. He closes his plush lips over each ring, releasing with a loud suckling pop. The three of you share a smirk, and Steve brushes his knuckles down the flushed apple of your cheek, tugging on you to help position yourself with him.

“Come here to daddy.” And he manhandles you until your ass is dangling, giving him plenty of room to grasp your ankles. Eddie, the greedy bitch that he is, reaches between your thighs and grabs Steve’s cock, slicking it up and down the seam of you. It’s got everyone in those sensual shambles.

Steve turns his head and tugs Eddie in by his throat. “Put me inside of her. Now, Munson.”

You can’t even speak human language, having given up long ago. Eddie presses Steve in, that burning stretch causing a fullness to press against your swollen walls. You hiss, toes curling, Steve’s fingers tapping across your ankle bones. “I know, baby. Daddy always splits your little cunt open, doesn’t he? Always feels like the first time, doesn’t it?”

“So fucking full.” You whisper, taking Eddie’s fingers as they’re offered, his other hand reaching to draw circles underneath the back of your knee.

“Look at us, baby. C’mon.” He demands.

Steve fucks you slow and deep, making sure you feel every ridge and curve of his cock (as if you don’t dream of being wrecked with it more than you care to admit), a slippery glide helping you find yourself matching his movements, pushing your hips into his, spreading your legs wider, letting them slide from his hold and entwining around him, thighs pressing against his tailbone. He lifts a hand beside your head, taking Eddie’s and yours in a stern grip. You’re overloaded and that coil is expanding, bursting, ready to explode and make you implode. Steve is marveling.

“That’s it. Cum for me, honey. And I’ll let you have mine.”

You fall apart, this time your vision does spot out, both of your boyfriends struggling to stay upright. Steve releases not seconds later, rowing forward and biting above your breast when he cums, layering your pussy in a sticky sheen. He doesn’t waste a moment, though, only stopping to inhale roughly a few times, pulling himself out and watching his essence and your fresh orgasm drizzle out of you. Eddie scoops down and closes his entire mouth over your cunt, devouring and sampling, nosing crudely. You let him clean you, still throbbing and recovering.

And then there is Steve, who decides he needs some more, not minding it’s his own, so he’s burying his face in between your legs again, wiggling his tongue just enough to coax more from your sore opening. Eddie cups the back of your neck as your tongue pokes out to touch Steve’s, gathering what he gives you, Eddie welcomed into the kiss next, that slurping a noisy enchantment. “Mhm, the taste of my two favorite whores.” He states, in his matter of fact way.

Yeah, you’re gonna need to hydrate and eat up tonight.

~*~

Tagging some babes: @prettyboyeddiemunson @inklore @ethereal27cereal @littledemondani @likedovesinthewnd @corrodedhawkins @thisishellfire @gothbitchshit @indouloureux @boldlyvoid @roanniom @master-of-munsons @runningmunson @munsonquinns @cowboy-kylo @pinkchubbiebunnie @pixiemunsons @munsonmunchies @manicpixiedreamcurl @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @st-eve-barnes @oliveoilthoughts @sending-love-letters @screaming-blue-bagel @spookycreepycookie-blog @gublers-ghost @munsonxdays @hellfirehope @taurusxmun @captaincarmel164 @mrsanxiiety

I tried tagging everyone on my tag list (I tagged some mutuals that aren’t on there, so I hope that’s okay?), but I couldn’t tag some of you for some reason. I’m sorry :(

[oriandcate]

The List of Raw Quotes immortalized by the Internet:

“People who value any aspect of creation would do well not to pit gods against one another.”

“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” 

“I will face God and walk backwards into Hell.”

“Then perish.”

“I have been through Hell and come out singing.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who dies?”

“Do you think God stays in Heaven because He too lives in fear of what He created?”

“To become god is the loneliest achievement of all.”

“You kneel before my throne unaware that it was built on lies.”

“This is Hell’s territory and I am beholden to no gods.”

“Impudent of you to assume that I will meet a mortal end.”

“Bury me shallow, I’ll be back.”

“Take this gift, for the gods surely won’t.”

“One day, you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe, and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled.”

“Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?”

“Deviation from the norm will be punished unless it is exploitable.”

“You cannot kill me in a way that matters.”

“Pick a god and pray.”

“We deserve a soft epilogue, my love.”

“We are the timeline that God has abandoned.”

“Pick a Hell and rot there.”

“Every day we stray further from God’s light.”

“I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.”

“I’d sell you to Satan for one corn chip.”

“The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math.”

“If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight as I always have.”

“I am a monument to all your sins.”

“It’s not about whether you win or lose. Sometimes it’s about how many pages you add to the rulebook.”

“You’re rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, my friend.”

“The man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one.”

“I don’t believe in divine retribution, but then life throws people like you at me.”

“God wanted me dead, now you get to find out why.”

“The fruits of the earth do not exist to be worth something to us.”

“I’ve got a date with destiny, and it ain’t gonna end with a kiss.”

“Hostage or not, sometimes it’s nice being held.”

“To sit still is to submit to a god who cannot stand to see such power in potentia mere inches from realizing itself and overcoming him.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“…but sadly I am only a little bug and you are a garden.”

“In a society where all adventure has been destroyed, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.”

“How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?”

“So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word.”

“…For they are a scoundrel and a foul beast of fields untouched by green.”

“Do you not think that Satan, too, has some affection for the inhabitants of Hell?”

“Does poetry flourishing even in the cracks and grime of the world devalue its beauty? Is the divine rendered plain when it becomes commonplace? Would you have the sublime subjected to the gatekeeping of a self-serving elite? Better it should be used and misused as us absurd commoners see fit.”

“Lock your doors and windows. God will forgive your absence.”

“I stand here, a fool of my own making.”

“Canon is but the sandbox in which I strike lightning to form glass. Trouble me no more with your quibbling and quorums, lest I grind you to dust beneath my heel and build stories from the remnants of your bones. Avast, foul fiend.”

“In the end, everyone is aware of this: nobody keeps any of what he has, and life is only a borrowing of bones.”

“’It’s not that deep.’ Maybe not originally, but the ground is soft and I’m ready to dig.”

“Ask the moon. Ask what it has witnessed.”

“Some things don’t belong on this plane of existence and the universe conspires to correct that.”

“Weird is a prerequisite to all things good and entertaining.”

“The sunrise has never caught me sleeping.”

“People are trying to be right no matter how wrong they are, I am here, accepting my primal desires.”

“Swear all you want, but the gods have shut their ears.”

“Tis the nature, curse, and cure of humanity to be forever attracted to the abyss.”

“If you hit a mole over the head for long and hard enough, eventually it learns to mind its own beeswax. Keep whacking.”

“If we built a tower of Babel, in this day and age, no one would stop us. We would build, and build, and one day inevitably breach the gates of heaven. And we would send in a probe, and then an exploratory team, clad in hazmat suits and protective gear, to enter the gates, and lo! before them would be a great, winding mass, a crumbling chitinous mountain range, a swooping winding wormous cavern, pale and sickly and turned to dust. And we will understand why no one stopped us: it will be the exoskeleton of God.”

“I must make time fear me most.”

“My third eye is open but damn it needs a monocle.”

“Some sins follow us, trotting along and planting themselves in dark corners, high shelves, gathering dust like a forgotten potted ficus, forever a part of the inner scenery of our minds. They thrive there. In the dark. Knowing we will someday stumble in. This is why ‘tis unwise to explore the inner chambers of our souls.”

“Ideals are made of gold and light, but human lives are made of blood and tears, and spill with slippery ease; choose carefully what hills to build and die upon.”

“I shall dig my very own shallow grave. Onward.”

“Confidence! A fool’s substitute for intelligence!”

“Weird hill to die on, but at least you’re dead.”

“Our paths may have crossed briefly, but you’ve still had the misfortune of knowing me.”

“What’s a little blood and bone? We all come down to it, in the end.”

“I could set the world on fire and call it rain.”

“War allows us to dress our monsters up as saviors, and many would say I’m one of those monsters.”

“You haven’t learned anything until you learn monsters have nightmares too.”

“To live is to haunt.”

“Can’t shake the devil’s hand and say you’re only kidding.”

“In the future, you will stand at the grave of God which I dug, weeping, and I will be the only creature you will be able to answer to. You will beg for death, but due to what you said today, I will deprive you of that luxury.”

“I wanted rain and I thought the best way to do that was to make God cry.”

“Love is dead and never existed. All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread.”

“Here’s the thing about a haunted forest: it’s not going to haunt itself.”

“Your skull is the garden where fact flowers into meaning.”

“I shall use your voice for violin string and serenade your widow.”

“If God had wanted you to live he would not have created me.”

“I’ve heard it said that we only gain wisdom through suffering, and tonight I intend to make you very wise.”

“If I cannot bend heaven, then I will raise hell.”

“Remember that if you go knocking on enough doors asking to see the Devil, eventually he may answer.”

"No one of honor is interred here. The dead are raw materials, and nothing more."

"That there is a feller what sat down on a snake in the grass one day, and it ain't crawled outta his asshole yet."

"Pay a man enough and he'll walk barefoot into Hell."

"All these moments will be lost in time; like tears, in the rain."

"To feel sorrow is to deserve peace."

"No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle."

"There is no light at the end of this tunnel; so it's a good thing we brought matches."

"The answer to despair is action."

"You'll be reduced down to a single atom when I'm done with you."

"What's at the end of a million? Zero, zero, zero; big old hole, with a wall around it. That's all a bank is, you know: a great big old hole you throw money into, and all it ever seems to do is make the walls higher."

"Always strive to eat the stars."

"Why would you want to savor the taste of poison?"

"The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all."

"It is better to die standing than to live kneeling."

"The anger in your heart warms you now, but it will leave you cold in your grave."

"Darkness without light is an abyss; light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side."

"We can't have faith for everybody."

"Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars you won."

"To rend one's enemies is to view them as objects: hollow of existence and meaning."

"Your soul sparks with a nonsense that makes this world bearable."

"He ain't one of the creatures God made."

“The unconscious hides in a language like a thief hides a diamond in a chandelier.”

“I just know no fruit has ever tasted as sweet as the ones I ate while bleeding under the blistering summer sun.”

“I pray nobody kills me for the crime of being small.”

“That’s the problem with gods; their pleasure and their wrath often look the same.”

 “If I am killed for simply living, let death be kinder than man.”

“Stupid should hurt.”

“do you think god is nuclear. do you think you cannot look upon deities the same way you cannot look at the center of a mushroom cloud. do you think the energy generated from fission is released from divine clutches. do you think that god exists in the space between the nucleus and the electrons and in the bonds of compounds and in the numbers on the page that got us there. do you think radiation is a warning. do you think it is an eraser. do you think it is wrath or a mistake or a byproduct of entropy. do you think god is plasma, where electrons are wherever you want them to be. do you think that we were supposed to find this out.”

“If you aren’t worthy enough to pull the sword, be strong enough to lift the stone.”

“I can’t go to hell. I’m all out of vacation days.”

“Despite everything, its still you.”

“The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself. The more you distance yourself, the less it will hurt. The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others.”

“My mother says kissing a man without a mustache is like eating eggs without salt.”

“A character is a ghost, a story is what it haunts.”

“Pain travels through families until someone is ready to feel it.”

“The gods did not breathe the breath of life into us and give us gifts of a shape, a will, and a voice just so we could pay bills and die”

“you gotta have friends who are older than you, not because you’re a dumb kid, but because you’ll be terrified of growing up otherwise.”

“you’ve made me so hard i beg for softness”

“Scorn is more palatable than the howling hunger for things to have been different for you.”

“Being able to endure something does not equal an obligation to withstand it.”

“To live is to haunt.”

“I am a chewy rubber Polly Pocket skirt and God is a four year old girl.”

“The big picture is made up of brush strokes, fool.”

“Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages.”

“these are old bones and i am merely a passing occupant”

“The board is getting dusty but the boogeyman has not yet blinked. when he does, you better make that move.”

“And when we kill the gods neither heaven nor hell will be waiting for them because they created those to imprison us.

“What makes a man a warrior is his willingness to place himself between what he holds dear and anything that threatens it. This is the way.”

“The anchor gives the ship the world to love.”

“In a society where adventure has been destroyed, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.”

“You pretended to be the hero of a story you never saved.”

“this world is a banquet of knowledge and each of us has brought a dish to the table.”

“This is the time of vengeance and no life is worth saving.”

“The ghosts that inhabit this place are more alive than you’ll ever be.”

“May the only thing that dampens the flames of hell for you be God spitting in your face.”

[inhuman-obey-me]

Demon Brothers Tempting People to Their Sins

Sometimes, as the demon brothers go about their lives, they find themselves presented with perfect opportunities for corrupting humans. So how do they go about tempting people into their sins...?

Lucifer

Every now and then, when Lucifer is dealing with something or other in the human world, he'll take a moment to relax at fancy, high-end lounges

It's perfect for eavesdropping and hearing the concerns of those in some kind of position of power

He'll schmooze and mingle, using his charismatic ways to ease others into discussing things with him, encouraging them to act on their pride

"Well, why shouldn't you go for it? Don't you want to be the best?"

"Imagine the power you could have. Don't tell me you don't want to be at the top?"

He smirks at watching them get fired up, knowing half of them don't actually have the potential to reach the top anyway

Mammon

Mammon can always be found at a gambling hall

He loves to check out the casinos in the human world when he's there, seeing what jackpot he can hit

But it's also the perfect place to tempt others into their greed, getting them to empty out their pockets in hopes of getting even more

"C'mon, what's the harm in putting some more money down? Imagine all that sweet, sweet cash you could have if ya win!"

"I'm personally gonna buy that awesome new car ... c'mon, don't tell me you can actually pass that up?"

Plus, the more money they put into the pot, the more for Mammon himself to potentially win, so he wants to pressure them out of his own greed too

He never wins either though

Leviathan

One of Levi's greatest day-to-day envies is people who can pay for deluxe skins, fancy limited items, etc. in his games

His envy is always bleeding into his interactions with other players

"It's so unfair that they got the new UR gacha item when I did 70 pulls and only got the SSR!"

"Why do we have to work so hard grinding for the new item when some people can already get it the first day the event comes out!"

Even if he does eventually shell out the money to get the items himself, then he shows off to the other players to make them want it too

This is not a call-out, we're sorry

Satan

When Satan sees someone unhappy with something, he likes to goad them into doing something about it

And by do something about it, of course we mean beating the living shit out of them

He riles them up by focusing in on everything that pisses them off

"After what they said to you - are you just going to let them get away with that?!"

"Don't you want to wipe that smirk off their face?"

He's definitely projecting his own feelings about Lucifer 80% of the time

Asmodeus

The master of desire, Asmo of course knows when someone at one of the parties he's attending wants something

He'll get people to spill their desires, the things and people they are lusting after

And then he gets them to go for it

The alcohol is flowing, spirits are high, everyone is having a good time - perfect for convincing people not to hold back

"Come on, it's a party! You know you want to get another drink - and while you're at it, get one for that person at the bar you've been eyeing for the past hour"

"Ooh, are you mad? Ahaha, just go on and punch them then! Bar fight, bar fight!"

"I know you've had your eye on me all night. Spill it, what do you want to do with me? We can do anything you want to do."

Sure, they might regret it in the morning, but for now, Asmo's their fun party buddy who just wants them to have a good time...right?

They can have a little murder, as a treat... Is it really a party if no one lands themselves in jail?

Beelzebub

When he's in the human world, Beel often likes to dine at highly-rated restaurants

He's generally more concerned with getting all of the delicious food for himself, but ends up wrapping others up into his gluttony as well

Perhaps he'll get into a conversation with that guy who seems to have quite a bit of money over there ...

"Yeah, the food here is pricey but it's good. Imagine having a huge banquet of just all of this food and drink, wouldn't that be amazing? You could have as much of this as you wanted ... "

"This is really good, but [insert competing restaurant's name here] had better ingredients, and they give you bigger portions. Oh, and you should try [insert other competing restaurant] as well, they're really good at this dish too. Hmm, but you should probably order all three together...otherwise it'll be hard to compare them."

Belphegor

Sometimes Belphie randomly falls asleep places, and finds himself waking up to something bad going on

But he's not really interested in whatever's happening

And he doesn't think anyone else really needs to be interested either

You have him to thank for the bystander effect

"Who cares? It's none of my business, and it's not really any of yours either"

"Just leave it alone, there's no reason to risk your own neck stepping in"

Better hope you're not the one getting mugged

BONUS:

Solomon: Agent of Chaos

Though he's not a demon, Solomon is happy to goad people into doing things they shouldn't.

He just thinks it's interesting and funny to see what happens

And he does have pacts with 72 demons after all...

Unlike the demons, if someone is in actual grave danger, he'll probably step in to help, but otherwise he has a great time being a bad influence

"Oh? Hmm...maybe you should just go ahead and try it!"

"It sounds like a bad idea? Well sure, but it'll be fun to see what happens, don't you think?"

See also: lending MC his magic just to see what they'd do with it

[fanimesenseiwrites]

How the Brothers React to MC Indulging in Their Specific Sins

Lucifer/Pride:

He sees it when you spend extra time on your hair, or when you actually iron a shirt.

He sees it in how you walk and how your language changes around certain people.

He notices every micro-prideism that you do after you form a pact with him and he can't help but to feel proud too; it makes him feel closer to you.

He especially loves when you take pride in your work.

Obviously it's good for Diavolo and the exchange program that you work hard and do well in school, but there's something especially titillating about you wanting to do well for yourself and not because he told you to.

Besides, how could he resist your smile after you tell him you got an 'A' in an assignment?

Mammon/Greed:

So sometimes you're greedy with him and his attention. You only want it to be you and him, you only wanna share snacks or whatever with him, and he loves that shit.

And sometimes you're like actually greedy and that's not cool.

Like, how dare you not want to use your money to buy him new clothes at Majolish?

And why can't you buy the ice cream on your date? Why does it matter if he's the one who asked you out?

And one time you won the lottery and you wouldn't even share any of your winnings! (Even though it was only like 5000 Grimm) What the fuck???

Being greedy is his shtick, you can't have it.

Leviathan/Envy:

Honestly, he's usually in his room so more often than not he's not gonna see you being envious.

He'll finally notice when you get mad at him about going on and on about his latest 2D waifu

"Oh my god! Levi they're not real! Guess who is real and wants your attention?! ME!"

He'll just stare at you for a moment, stunned. How could you say they're not real? They're real to him and- wait. Did you say you wanted his attention? Oh... now he gets it.

"Are you... jealous?" He asks you, almost hopeful.

You blush and puff out your cheeks. "No."

You're the worst liar.

He can't quite decipher how he feels about you feeling this way, but he likes it.

He likes knowing that you like him enough to get jealous of a person who isn't really real.

Satan/Wrath:

You try your best to keep your cool when shit starts to go down, which is pretty much what Satan does...

But every once in a while, the pot boils over.

And Satan actually can't help but to get excited when you get mad, you're kinda hot when you're mad.

If you've gotten mad over something silly, he can calm down and help you calm down too.

But if your fury is righteous? He is absolutely going to help you destroy whoever has crossed you.

May the Demon King have mercy on their soul, because y'all sure aren't going to.

Asmodeus/Lust:

Asmo knows, he always knows when you want it.

He can see it in how your eyes darken when you look at the object of your desire.

He can see it in your little pets and touches.

Hell, he can smell it on you.

He loves it. It's so exciting to see you so... excited.

If he is so unlucky to not be the object of your desire, he's going to disappear to his room for a while...

But if he is? (And god, does he pray that he is) Y'all are going to have a GREAT time.

Beelzebub/Gluttony:

As long as he doesn't have to share his food, he's glad with having a snacking buddy.

But even when you're feeling gluttonous, you'll never eat as much as him so sharing food usually isn't a problem.

But having someone who does want to eat as much as he does, even if they physically can't, actually makes him feel a little good.

He knows you're not going to judge him or shame him for eating so much.

Plus he thinks it's really cute when you rub your belly after eating a lot.

Belphegor/Sloth:

You just wanna take naps with him? He's so down.

Please feel free to do absolutely nothing with him.

He loves sleeping next to you and snuggling.

And even when you can't sleep anymore, if you just wanna lay next to each other and talk that's great too.

[btwitsgoku]

Top 52 best Darkest anime quotes by some of the darkest anime characters

Hey guys, welcome back to animesimp. This article will provide you with the top 52 best darkest anime quotes by some of the darkest anime characters. First of all, I hope you know about the darkest anime quotes. But if you don’t know, the darkest anime quotes are the types of quotes that serve as a reminder of life’s harsh realities.

Furthermore, these darkest anime quotes tell you bitter truths that are so much more difficult for an ordinary person to endure. Sometimes, the darkest anime quotes do not tell you about truth or reality, but rather about an emotionally depressed person’s perspective and thoughts about life.

So, without further ado, let’s dive into the Top 52 best darkest anime quotes of the darkest anime characters.

1. Johan Libert

I think if we talk about the darkest anime quotes and Johan Libert is not there, then it’s kind of a lack of knowledge. That is because Johann Libert is a character who thinks very deeply about life and gave us some of the darkest anime quotes.

So, let’s take a look at Johann Libert’s best and darkest quotes.

1. The only thing humans are equal in is death.

2. Do you think your sin will disappear if you lie?

3. Tell me what do you think is the ultimate fear? I really thought that I’d already reached the darkest of the dark, but then, ahead of me, I beheld a darkness even greater still.

4. Doctor Tenma. For you all lives are created equal, that’s why I came back to life. But you’ve finally come to realize it now, haven’t you? Only one thing is equal for all, and that is death.

5. There’s nothing special about being born. Not a thing. Most of the universe is just death, nothing more. In this universe of ours, the birth of a new life on some corner of our planet is nothing but a tiny, insignificant flash. Death is a normal thing. So, why living?

2. Madara Uchiha

We all know that the Naruto franchise is considered the greatest life learning anime. Most of the characters in Naruto taught us many life lessons, but if we talk about which character in Naruto taught us the most life lessons, only one name comes to mind: Madara Uchiha. Because of his wisdom and experience in life.

So, let’s take a look at Madara Uchiha’s best and darkest quote.

1. In this world, wherever there is light – there are also shadows. As long as the concept of winners exists, there must also be losers. The selfish desire of wanting to maintain peace causes wars, and hatred is born to protect love.

2. Wake up to reality! Nothing ever goes as planned in this world. The longer you live, the more you realize that in this reality, only pain, suffering, and futility exist.

3. When you fall in love, you love with all that you’ve got. You must learn to bear anger, hatred, keep your ego and attitude aside and handle things with care, calmness, and love.

4. Human beings are nothing but a medium of the general process of carrying out life. They do want to live in peace, but want to win it over by war because ultimately victory is what brings them peace.

5. Love is an essential element, but not everyone gets it. It’s okay not to have love, but to survive in this world, you need to make yourself capable and achieve success. That’s where you actually stand.

6. Man seeks peace, yet at the same time yearning for war… Those are the two realms belonging solely to man.

3. Light Yagami

Light Yagami is the most beloved antagonist in anime. This is because of his ideology and his belief in his unique justice. As a result, this character gives some of the darkest anime quotes.

So, let’s take a look at Light Yagami’s best and darkest quotes.

1. I’m Ridding The World Of Evil And Creating A Utopia. No Matter How Much Time I Have, It Won’t Be Enough.

2. This world is rotten, and those who are making it rot deserve to die. Someone has to do it, so why not me?

3. You can’t ever win if you’re always on the defensive. To win, you have to attack!

4. I can’t develop feelings. That’s how most idiots screw up.

5. Look around you, and all you will see are people the world would be better off without.

Click here to read full aricle

[aria-chicken-flugget]

MC reacts to The Brothers (+Undateables)

In a crop top ~ yum

For @beelzebubs1trulove and for me too ngl

*NSFW* ish / undertones - these turned into mini drabbles ?? Lol?? Sorry??

The Brothers

~

Lucifer 🔥

He freezes, his eyes narrow slits as they focus on you

“You want me to wear a what?”

You’d have to be very close to make that kind of request of him if he’s never worn one

He’s anxious it would damage his pride and so would vehemently dismiss the idea

“Luci ~” you’d lilt, winding your arms around his tense shoulders from behind, distracting him from his work

He knew that lilt. That lilt for when you wanted something quite specific. You were hellbent to get what you wanted

Consider the interest of this Sadist TM piqued as you toy with his raven locks, coyly starting cat and mouse teasing

“My answer was no.” “Was is a conditional, so that means there’s room for debate.”

He’d smirk at your coy and almost sly attitude, swiveling around so that he could grip your hips,

“You’re as troublesome as ever, twisting my words to suit your desires.” “:)”

You’d give him That Smile TM, when you wanted something. How could he refuse?

“And what if i refuse? What will you surrender to me in compensation?”

You’d bite your lip - he’s cracking, considering it

I’ll let you imagine what you’d be willing to do in compensation lol

He’d tighten his grip on your hips at the insinuation, your sweet words caressing the shell of his ear

It took everything he had not to demand payment up front, if you catch my drift

He’d ensure you swore not to tell a soul (nor demon ofc) no one. This would be private for you and no one else, or he won’t do it not even if you begged.

You’d stay true to your word, desperate to see him in the crop... you were not disappointed

You were leisurely atop his sheets when he finally revealed himself with a distinct cough, to clear his throat and make his presence known

Your jaw dropped. The Crop was an inky black and appeared to be water woven silk, one shoulder sliding down.

His cheeks tinged rouge as he brought himself to look you in the eye, a silent plea for you to say something. Anything.

You swallowed a golf ball sized lump as you rose from the sheets, approaching tentatively, finger tips mindlessly stroking the fabric

You could feel his abdominal muscles clench from underneath the satin fabric, a sharp breath in from his handsome lips

He quickly grew quite fond of your reaction to the clothing item, and how the events of that evening took a turn for the unexpected

Would most definitely wear it again when he wanted you and may try another

Mammon 💵

Makes a sound akin to a “guh!” at your request

Is certain he misheard, until you ask again

“What d’ya think ya talkin’ about, huh? Askin’ me to wear a thing like that...” BLUSH

“But you don’t mind a bit of skin, you’re a model!” “T-that’s not -“ “AND your demon form?! Hello?!” “Hey! That’s not the point!”

The point is, it’s because it’s you asking and his imagination takes him to naughty places due to your request

You’d have to wait a few days before bringing it up again, asking sweetly

He’d be unable to look at you, a blushing and stuttering mess if you tried putting your arms around him to ask

“Why’d ya keep askin’ me somethin’ like that, huh? Quit it...” you’d let go, a little disheartened

“Hey, wait!” He’d unintentionally holler, stumbling after you

As you turn back around, you thread your fingers through his snow white hair, “Come to my room?”

His Adam’s apple would bob uncontrollably as he swallowed, offering a faint nod before snapping back into his usual self

“Ya better not ask this of the others.”

He’d come to your room, bright red and at the door, unable to walk in further

You’d calm him down, casually patting your bed, “What are you doing over there? Come on.” With an easy laugh

He’s won over pretty quickly and at ease

He’s lying on his front atop your sheets, on his D.D.D when you hover over his back, palms either side of his shoulders. He freezes

“Mammon?” You’d call sweetly, brightening the tips of his ears

“Can you please wear this for me?”

You’d ask in a soft whine, making it nearly impossible for him to form a coherent thought, let alone turn you down again

Despite actually wanting to do as you’d asked from the beginning

Your arms ensnaring him in place so he can’t run away, “You’d look so good in it, you should model it for Majolish.”

He can’t get much more blushy or flustered than when you start talking to him like that, he’s a goner

He finally relents, and returns wearing the Crop you picked out for him. Your eyes shamelessly trail his perfect form, far from disappointed

His chin angled towards the floor as he flushes, he’ll snap, “Quit lookin’ at me like that, would ya?”

You can’t help it. The loose white T with tiger print looked so much hotter on him than you expected

You got it cause you thought he’d look so cute in it... which of course, he did but... his exposed torso, coupled with his lean bisceps folding as he waited for you to speak, had made it all the more difficult to do so.

You’d hum in approval, quick to slide your hands under it to make contact with his bare skin if he’d let you

If you were tactless about it, he’d growl. No touchy lol

But if you got him into the right mood, well

He’d gasp in surprise, uttering your name as you roamed his body with your hands

Fingertips ghosting over his lips to hide his vulnerability, as you grip his hips towards you

Things would get a little more heated than intended, but neither of you were complaining

Next time he was more confident and wore a mesh one for you to tear off, he did That Growl TM as you did and it sent you

Levi 👾

Oh boy haha, good luck with that lol

Reacts worse than Mammon

“W-w-wear a C-crop Top?! Me?!”

Instant nosebleed lol

You’d have to get him in the mood, boy won’t just do it out if nowhere. Ever.

His self consciousness would mean it would take A LOT of coaxing. A lot, a lot.

But he would do anything if you were having a little dom-sub play, and it was your turn to dom

Given that he was comfortable enough to do that with you anyway, what’s a little crop in comparison?

“Think of it as a little cosplay...” you’d whisper seductively, hot and damp against his ear before nibbling at his lobe

He’d almost whimper at the request now that you have him where you want him

He’d flush harder than any of the brothers, obvi

“W-what do you want me to do?” teeth sunk into his lower lip as he peered up at you, playing along. AAAAHHHHHH

Your soft hands at his chest, before slowly lifting the hem of his shirt, only breaking eye contact when necessary

He would be speechless watching you

no more hiding, no more excuses. He wants you, like this. He’s not so nervous anymore

You didnt want him to feel too self conscious, so you got him a loose fitting neon crop with a black mesh to go over it

His anxiety had melted away but he was still a little self conscious, you’d have to coax him out a bit more

Would actually really love the feel of the top and the mesh did make him feel better

You thought his body was perfect, literally God given ha ha and wanted him to show it off more

You made sure to say as much, making his heart swell.

you wet your lips at his new clothes, making him flush harder and his hands creep to his face again

You gently removed his hands from his face, “Don’t shy away, you have a perfect body... i love it”

May day may day Levi is dying from loss of blood at the nose

Similarly to Lucifer, you may have to coax him with some promises of gameplay/concert tickets/cosplay and roleplay

“Does... this mean I get to see you in one too?”

His dominant side comes out real fast when you wear a teasingly revealing number, crop and thigh high stockings

He is a goner

Just the thought of someone else possibly seeing you this way darkened his expression

You are in for a wild night w this Dark Horse TM lolol

This side you didn’t often see exhilarated you

You silently thanked your idea for the crop tops

Stay safe kids ahha

Satan 📚

His face would flush, hand flying to his chest, “Excuse me?”

Careful Satan, your Lucifer is showing

You’d thread your fingers through his hair as he’s reading. It’s a risk, sometimes he melts into your touch - other times, well -

“If you’re trying to please me, you’re doing it all wrong.”

His blonde brows would frown, before going back to his book.

You’d huff - what to try next? #Take2 I guess...

You’d hum, sinking onto his lap to straddle his thighs. He’d tense his frame from under you, fingertips whitening on the book he held between your chests

He’d blush, unable to look at you for a moment as you’d try asking again,

“For me? Please?” Voice up an octave to sound cute, rubbing soothing circles into the taut muscles at his shoulders

“Why would you want me to do that?” He’s flushing harder now, less resolve in his voice. Bingo.

“I think you’d look really good...” fingertips trailing to his bowtie, eliciting a nervous chuckle from his throat

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, human.” He almost stuttered. Your seductive eyes would meet his with a coy smile, “please?”

“You really are cruel.” He’d say so quietly as though admitting to a great sin. Your teasing would stop immediately, smile faltering

With gentle fingertips you’d encourage his chin towards you, sincerity in your eyes, “What’s wrong?”

His brilliant emerald orbs searching yours, “If we were to do what you’re insinuating, i’d want it to be more.”

You gasped, realisation hitting you like a smack to the face. Your form relaxed above him, gently carressing his beautiful face,

“What makes you think that I don’t want more?”

You’d brush your lips against his in a gentle carress, winning him over

He’d have to be close enough/comfortable enough in your relationship to do it for you

He feels vulnerable without clothes covering him quite well, even in his demon form

So he’d want you to keep this private and would find it really hard to forgive you if you betrayed that trust, especially to Lucifer

Knowing this, the first time he tried it for you you’d helped him pick out one that was loose, comfortable and longer in the sleeves - revealing his lower abdomen in a tease.

It was green to match his eyes. His eyes searched yours for your thoughts.

The first thing you wanted to do was graze your hands at his exposed hips, his breath caught at your actions

“You look ... so sexy.” You’d praise in a hoarse whisper, he’d make a choking noise

Quickly gaining confidence as your hands roam tentatively at his hips, he’d smirk

“You better enjoy this whilst you can, I won’t be doing it again.”

You’d find a way to convince him into it again, dont worry lol

Asmodeus 💋

Bold of you to assume he isn’t wearing one right now

You two have just come back from a well deserved shopping spree ‘for making it through a particularly boring student council meeting’

Asmo’s wearing a crop that barely covers his chest, skin tight, revealing his perfectly sculpted shoulders

He said it was “‘cause it was hot that day!” even though there is no sun in the Devildom

You two were on your way back to The House of Lamentation when he caught you stealing surreptitious peeks

He’d smirk, “Take a photo of me, it’ll last longer.”

You’d laugh, but your blush would give you away

He’d shift his bags to one hand so that he could hold yours, “Come on, honey - it’s time for our fashion show.”

You’d ask him to go first just so you could gawk at him and his stupidly perfect body

He would not complain - even though you’d already seen the outfits, you wanted to see him in them again

If you were feeling particularly confident, you’d pluck out the small bag containing the crop you bought for him as a surprise

He’d squeal with delight, “Ooh for me? What is it?” You’d deny his snatching grasp with a teasing tut, “It’s a surprise - i want you to wear it tonight.”

His eyes would glaze over with anticipation as he’d hum, shifting slightly, “Watch what you say, you know anything can set me off.”

You’d giggle and he’d add with a pompous air, “If it’s ugly, i’m not wearing it.”

When night came and you’d revealed the crop, he gaped. He was very pleasantly surprised.

It was a maroon, lace number, long sleeved and high collar - it was surprisingly high fashion

You thought I was gonna give him some BDSM leather didn’t you? You cheeky thing you

He slid into it effortlessly with another hum of approval, “ooh i love it, thank you.” Planting a chaste kiss to your cheek

Warmth spread through your chest, he must really love it if he wasn’t trying to immediately come onto you

He flushed, rubbing soothing circles into the back of your hand. His adams apple bobbed as he shifted, “You always know what to do to drive my heart wild, don’t you?”

You’d plant a sweet, lingering kiss on his soft lips and share a surprisingly tender night with him

Variety is the spice of life after all, so he had many many more crop tops to satiate your curiosity

“Your turn ;)”

Beelzebub 🍔

Has probably worn a cropped, sleeveless hoodie to work out in

He doesn’t show off his body but is far from self conscious, he works hard for what he’s got

When you ask him to wear one, poor baby won’t see it that way

“Uh, sure okay, why not?”

Would whip out a cropped T-shirt and change infront of you, honey i know, i feel hot just thinking about it

He’d turn to you with That Smile TM coupled with his sweet chuckle, “‘Like this one?”

You’d probably get him to try a bunch on just to see him change lol

If he had the time, which for you he usually did, he’d have no problem being your doll to play dress up with lol

Literally would just let you dress him, as long as the boy has a snack he’s gucci

You quite liked the sleeveless hoodie crop, knowing he works out in it gave it that edge

He’d be comfy, smiling brightly as he’d wrap his big arms around you

You aren’t complaining, you get to feel those abs lolol

If you were feeling confident, you’d roam your hands under the hem, or your hands would wander south -

He’d flush, brows raised slightly, suddenly realising where your thoughts were headed

“So you really like this one, huh?” He’d smile, palms resting comfortably at the small of your back

You’d nod, chewing your bottom lip. His smiling lips would meet yours sweetly, before scooping you up in his arms

Your legs around his waist like a koala, you’d smile, tugging at the drawstrings, “I wanna see you in this more often.”

“Come to the gym with me.” “Lol no.”

“I’d rather see you out of it anyway.” He’d blush as he held you, whispering your name like a blessing

He’d be loving and tender, surprisingly flushed as you’d worship his toned form under that crop

You’d have to try to keep cool if he wore it out, not only would it attract a lot of attention but he wouldn’t really realise

Jealousy wouldn’t really be the problem, it would be more to do with you not gawking at him all day lol

He’d ask you to wear one for him, too, making you flush with anticipation

Would tug at it with his teeth.

You explode

Belphegor 😴

You’d tend to the flyaways of his thick bangs, his head on your lap as your soft hands lull him to sleep

“Belphie?” “Hmm?” “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.”

You’d grow quiet, teeth sinking to your lower lip as you suddenly felt anxious to ask

He’d prop himself up with a yawn, at attention with dark brows,

“What is it?” It can’t be that bad, he thought

You’d realised as you were in the quiet if that attic that you’d only ever seen him in loose fitting and soft clothes

Your flustered cheeks would grow warmer at the thought of him in a tight crop...

His fingertips would caress your chin as gentle as the breeze, the depths of his eyes swimming, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

You’d eventually utter, “I was wondering if you’d wear something for me... just to try it.”

His brows would raise in surprise, that wasn’t what he thought you’d say at all

At your darting eyes, he quickly melted into a suggestive smile, “What is it you want me to wear?”

His expression would harden slightly as you said ‘tight’, but he was surprisingly willing to hear you out

When you showed him what you had in mind, he was surprised once more, “huh... this one?” “MmmHmm.” “Sure.” “:D”

He’d shrug, much like Beel he’d have no qualms changing in front of you, which surprised you some

You were not complaining though...

It was an off the shoulder number, tight but not constrictive, just well fitted. Perfectly

You found yourself having to slam your jaw shut after gaping in surprise at his lean torso

He appeared almost bored until he noticed your state, his hand creeping to his cheek, “Like what you see, MC?”

He wanted to hear you say it out loud

‘Cause Damn... yes, yes you did like it

You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, getting more than you’d bargained for - your imagination didnt hold a candle to the real deal

“Come here.” He’d beckon, tearing you from your reverie

He’d hold you close, somewhere in your mind you’d register that you hadn’t seen this much skin of his... your cheeks heated at the thought for some reason

“I want you in one.” He’d say unabashedly, eyes pirecing yours

You’d gasp, trying not to think of a double meaning

His hands would roam your body with a hum when you did, rather enjoying it himself - suddenly understanding the appeal

Would tear yours

~

I hope you enjoyed these as much as i enjoyed writing them lolol - when i do the Undateables lol stop it i will link the posts! Due to the nature of these HCs, i will NOT be posting for Luke, obviously. I’ll probs edit these but have them for now! ✨

[edenmemes]

game of thrones (s2) starters

❝ two cups of wine? that’s not much at all. please, have another cup. ❞ ❝ you don't need to live your whole life taking commands from old men. ❞ ❝ what did you say? did you say i can’t? ❞ ❝ i will not fail you. ❞ ❝ i don't go serving some shit king who's only king because his father was. ❞ ❝ do you want to stop me? stop me. ❞ ❝ you must be their strength. ❞ ❝ i’ve been fighting far longer than you. ❞ ❝ ‘ how can a man be brave if he's afraid?’ ...that is the only time a man can be brave. ❞ ❝ you are the biggest liar i have ever met. ❞ ❝ we looked for you on the battlefield. you were nowhere to be found. ❞ ❝ i’ve been here, ruling the kingdoms. ❞ ❝ i could show you the streams to fish, the woods to hunt. ❞ ❝ we heard you were dead. ❞ ❝ power resides where men believe it resides. it's a trick, a shadow on the wall. ❞ ❝ you don’t even have the decency to deny it. ❞ ❝ we share a common enemy. ❞ ❝ brave? a dog doesn’t need courage to chase off rats. ❞ ❝ aren’t you always so clever with your schemes and your plots? ❞ ❝ someone once told me that the night is dark and full of terrors. ❞ ❝ the king does not ask; he commands. ❞ ❝ loyal service means telling hard truths. ❞ ❝ i don’t like you. i don’t like your face. i don’t like the words oozing out of your mouth. ❞ ❝ if half an onion is black with rot, it's a rotten onion. a man is good or he is evil. ❞ ❝ a man without friends is a man without power. ❞ ❝ that’s twice i’ve warned you. ❞ ❝ no one can survive in this world without help. no one. / let me help you. ❞ ❝ i’ve never heard you hide from the truth. ❞ ❝ calling yourself king doesn’t make you one. ❞ ❝ you can’t avenge if you’re dead. ❞ ❝ these bad people are what i'm good at. out-talking them, out-thinking them. it's what i am. ❞ ❝ are you trying to frighten me with magic tricks? ❞ ❝ the histories won’t mention you but i will not forget. ❞ ❝ sometimes i wonder. if this is the price for what we've done, for our sins. ❞ ❝ it's hard to put a leash on a dog once you've put a crown on its head. ❞ ❝ wise men do not make demands of kings. ❞ ❝ it's like stepping into a dream you've been dreaming for as long as you can remember, and finding out that the dream is more real than your life. ❞ ❝ i'll remember it all until i die. rhat was the best day of my life. ❞ ❝ the more people you love, the weaker you are. ❞ ❝ it’s better to be cruel than weak. ❞ ❝ do it. all these bad people, they can’t stop you. forget about them. come with me. ❞ ❝ you're not the person you’re pretending to be. not yet. ❞ ❝ my place is by your side. ❞ ❝ would it be excessive of me to ask you to save my life twice in a week? ❞ ❝ i’ve gone too far to pretend to be anything else. ❞ ❝ you promise me these things, but you don’t know. none of us know. ❞ ❝ show me how you fight. ❞ ❝ leaving that battlefield was like being dragged off to prison. ❞ ❝ you’ll say nothing to anyone. do you understand? ❞ ❝ you can’t talk about it without blushing. ❞ ❝ i don’t need trust any longer. i don’t want it and i don’t have room for it. ❞ ❝ cleaner ways don’t win wars. ❞ ❝ i always hated crossbows. take too long to load ❞ ❝ i’m not questining your loyalty. i’m denying it’s existence. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to call me ‘your grace’ when no one’s around. ❞ ❝ you need to be careful. no one can know you’re here. ❞ ❝ this city stinks like dead bodies. ❞ ❝ where i come from, guests are treated with respect, not insulted at the gates. ❞ ❝ i’ll be silent as the grave. ❞ ❝ i understand you don’t like me, and while that saddens me greatly, i did not come here today seeking your affection. ❞ ❝ you know my family name. you have me at a disadvantage. ❞ ❝ a very small man can cast a very large shadow. ❞ ❝ what is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger. ❞ ❝ some say the beauty most desired is the beauty concealed. ❞ ❝ that’s exactly what they are - stories. ❞ ❝ keep out of sight. if things go wrong - you run. ❞ ❝ you want to rule? this is what ruling is. lying on a bed of weeds, ripping them out by the root one by one before they strangle you in your sleep. ❞ ❝ you might find it difficult to rule over millions who want you dead. ❞ ❝ you don’t know what i’m like. ❞ ❝ i’m not like most men. ❞ ❝ look around you. we're all liars here. and every one of us is better than you. ❞ ❝ i will love you from this day until my last day. ❞ ❝ i have heard tales of your beauty and grace, but the tales do not do you justice. ❞ ❝ you have a tender heart, just like your mother did your age. ❞ ❝ that’s a fine little blade. maybe i’ll pick my teeth with it. ❞ ❝ how do you sleep when you...have those things in your head? ❞ ❝ they’ll be singing songs about you as long as men have voices to sing. ❞ ❝ you should give me the reins. i’ve been on horseback for the past nine years. ❞ ❝ how unspeakable of me to go on and on, when all you want to do is rest. ❞ ❝ what you just did is punishable by death. ❞ ❝ tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears. ❞ ❝ you shouldn’t insult people that are bigger than you. ❞ ❝ the streets aren’t safe at night. ❞ ❝ i have come to love you from afar. ❞ ❝ would you like something for the pain? ❞ ❝ and who are you that i must bow so low? ❞ ❝ a lion still has claws and mine are long and sharp. ❞ ❝ i will keep you safe, my love. i promise you. ❞ ❝ asking me questions is bad luck. you’ll probably be dead soon. ❞ ❝ have you grown fond of me? is that it? ❞ ❝ knowledge is power. ❞ ❝ sometimes those with the most power have the least grace. ❞ ❝ how do you kill a dead man? ❞ ❝ i saw it in his eyes. hated me. he never met me before, but he wanted to hurt me. ❞ ❝ not very noble to accuse a lady of dishonesty. ❞ ❝ there’s nothing more sickening than a man in love. ❞ ❝ threaten me again and i will have you thrown into the sea. ❞ ❝ i am very good for keeping secrets for my good friends. ❞ ❝ i promised to protect them. promised them their enemies would die screaming. ❞ ❝ you’ve been having those dreams again. ❞ ❝ would you please shut up? you think you’re better than me. ❞ ❝ don’t trust anybody. life is safer that way. ❞ ❝ boil this for an hour and drink the tea. makes all your pain go away. ❞ ❝ it must be odd for you to be the disappointing child. ❞ ❝ you love your children. it’s your one redeeming quality / that and your cheekbones. ❞ ❝ nothing is worth what this will cost you. ❞ ❝ i thought they were going to kill me. ❞ ❝ i heard you suffered a terrible head wound. ❞ ❝ i know that our enemies hate each other almost as much as they hate us. ❞ ❝ do you understand we’re losing the war? ❞ ❝ wish i could stay and celebrate, but there is work to be done. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry for your loss. ❞ ❝ it’s just words to give us a little warmth at night. make us feel like we’ve got a purpose. ❞ ❝ death is boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world. ❞ ❝ i’m glad you’re not dead. ❞ ❝ more ravishing than ever. war agrees with you. ❞ ❝ i never thought i’d have reason to doubt your loyalty. was i wrong? ❞ ❝ only death may pay for life. ❞ ❝ smart people don’t find themselves in places like this. ❞ ❝ i will shield your back and give my life for yours, if it comes to that. ❞ ❝ do not speak to me like i’m a child. ❞ ❝ i want you to know what it's like to love someone, to truly love someone. before i take them from you. ❞ ❝ you may cover it up and deny it, but you have a gentle heart. ❞ ❝ there are times when i look at you and can’t believe you’re real. ❞ ❝ betray me, and you will wish you hadn’t. ❞ ❝ he who passes the sentence should swing the sword. ❞ ❝ gods help you. now you are truly lost. ❞ ❝ look around. you start thinking you know this place, it will kill you. ❞ ❝ i want you to curse and fight until your heart’s done pumping. ❞ ❝ they’ll never know what you’ve done. they’ll never know how you died. they won’t even know your damn name. ❞ ❝ you are a man without honor. ❞ ❝ does it give you joy to scare people? ❞ ❝ there’s been talk of other forces at work. dark forces. ❞ ❝ strike hard and true, or i’ll come back to haunt you. ❞ ❝ one day i pray you love someone. i pray you love them so much, when you close your eyes, you see their face. i want that for you. ❞ ❝ you are far too smart to think i will succumb to flattery. ❞ ❝ i had terrible dreams last night. i could not sleep until the sun was shining and the birds were singing. ❞ ❝ all my life i’ve been knocking men like you into the dust. ❞ ❝ you will not provoke me to anger. ❞ ❝ there are people who want to hurt me. ❞ ❝ i’m no ordinary woman. my dreams come true. ❞ ❝ i will take what is mine. with fire and blood, i will take it. ❞ ❝ you’re a sharp little thing, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ i always thought i was a brilliant liar. ❞ ❝ i’m yours and you are mine. ❞ ❝ you defend these men who insult you behind your back. ❞ ❝ we’ll stay warmer if we stay close. ❞ ❝ i would kill for you. do you know that? you’re mine. ❞ ❝ do you hear them out there? they want your head. ❞ ❝ you’re brave. stupid, but brave. ❞ ❝ don’t be afraid. i can take care of myself. ❞ ❝ a day will come when you think you're safe and happy, and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth. ❞ ❝ why do you hate me so much? have i ever harmed you? ❞ ❝ this will be my last war. win or lose. ❞ ❝ you're too smart for your own good. has anyone told you that? ❞ ❝ you have forsaken every vow you ever took. ❞ ❝ eny isn’t attractive. ❞ ❝ treat your oaths recklessly, and your people will do the same. ❞ ❝ they will all come to you, little lion, to rest a crown upon your head. ❞ ❝ the world is built by killers. so you'd better get used to looking at them. ❞ ❝ the gods have no mercy. that's why they're gods. ❞ ❝ your crimes are past forgiveness. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to leave you. ❞ ❝ if this is a dream, i will kill the man who tries to wake me. ❞ ❝ you talk about war as if you understand it. ❞ ❝ i don’t want your grief. i want my vengeance. ❞ ❝ what? what? why are you staring at me? ❞ ❝ you are the moon of my life. that is all i know and all i need to know. ❞ ❝ i’d say you possess above-average intelligence. ❞ ❝ i’ve been waiting all night. what is wrong? ❞ ❝ oh, are we friends now? ❞ ❝ never swung a sword before, have you? you look like a baby with a rattle. ❞ ❝ maybe i am dead and i just don’t know it yet. ❞ ❝ i’ve seen your face almost every day. and for that, i consider myself very, very lucky. ❞ ❝ the only way to keep the small folk loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy. ❞ ❝ i will pray for your safe return. ❞ ❝ this is the safest place we can be. ❞ ❝ the worst ones always live. ❞ ❝ i’ve never much liked my head, but i don’t want to see it removed just yet. ❞ ❝ your childhood must have been awful. ❞ ❝ who do you fight for? ❞ ❝ now you’re arguing just to argue. ❞ ❝ i hope you gave them quick deaths. ❞ ❝ you want me? here i am. ❞ ❝ the thing about you i find so interesting is absolutely nothing. ❞

[sepublic]

Lilith Can’t Decide

           Once again I have latched onto yet another song that I feel describes Lilith; Specifically, I Can’t Decide by Scissor Sisters! It’s not exactly a one-to-one match, but I think it works well as a metaphor for a young Lilith deciding whether or not she should curse her little sister Eda, juggling with her genuine love and desire to be with Eda, and balancing that with her resentment at being left behind, at being constantly outdone, thinking her own dream is being taken away from her… OR, it could be a Dark AU/development on Lilith’s character, a version of her that just spirals into a descent of further toxicity and co-dependency towards Eda. Looking at the lyrics;

It's not easy having yourself a good time Greasing up those bets and betters Watching out they don't four-letter F*ck and kiss you both at the same time Smells like something I've forgotten Curled up died and now it's rotten

           I doubt Lilith was a happy person, at least not without Eda- She didn’t seem to have a whole lot of self-confidence, and in the present-day, seems rather clingy to her sister. I wouldn’t be shocked if Eda was Lilith’s only friend… And in this one photo we see of Eda and a childhood friend, Lilith is in the background, looking unhappy and possibly jealous. Coupled with insecurity at not feeling good enough, being attached to Eda and maybe even dependent upon her for a sense of validation; And it’s not easy for Lilith to feel good about herself, to be happy, to have fun… Not when she’s always stressing over joining the Emperor’s Coven. Lilith has lost so many times that she can’t just take joy in playing the game- For once, she wants to actually win. And she’s no doubt lost many bets and challenges with Eda over the years…

           Now, F*ck in this scenario is not literal, for obvious reasons… In this case, it could be interpreted as ‘screwing someone over’, AKA causing trouble for Eda, while at the same time smothering her with sisterly kisses; Lilith loves Eda, but she’s also about to cause her little sister a WHOLE lot of trouble and basically ruin the rest of her life, while also shortening it. Not that Lilith realizes this- She thinks the curse will only be weakened magic for a day. But even so, she’s cheating Eda out of her spot in the Emperor’s Coven- Even if Lilith thinks that Eda will probably make it in later anyway because she’s THAT talented.

           “Smells like something I’ve forgotten” could easily allude to Lilith not paying attention, not really considering the consequences of the curse… And it could be Lilith choosing to ignore Eda’s dilemma when she IS cursed and transforms the next day, instead focusing on her spot in the Emperor’s Coven. Lilith has basically forgotten her sister, about her love for her- She’s neglected to take care of her bond with Eda, and now it’s curled up and died, become rotten. It’s imagery that invokes the skeleton in the closet, which applies well to Lilith cursing Eda and constantly being reminded that she did so, in the back of her head…

I'm not a gangster tonight Don't wanna be a bad guy I'm just a loner baby And now you've gotten in my way

           Lilith insists to herself, she believes she’s not a bad person- She wants to join the prestigious Emperor’s Coven that enforces law and order… She’s only doing what her idol Emperor Belos would do, in HER situation! And she’s not even wrong about that latter point. Lilith doesn’t want to curse Eda, she doesn’t want to be a bad person… But she’s lonely and she wants validation from the Emperor’s Coven, and Lilith knows that Eda would do better without that coven, than Lilith herself. Lilith feels alone, like she has no support, like her own sister Eda isn’t helping her and is instead throwing Lilith under the bus to join the Emperor’s Coven…

          And now Eda’s gotten in the way of Lilith’s dreams, of Lilith’s idea of them being in the coven together; Because to her, Eda will surely always be able to join another time (that’s what she clearly believes as an adult), so really this is just a matter of whether or not Lilith will be by her side. Lilith is essentially victim-blaming Eda in this scenario, and Eda has no idea; And Lilith is absolving herself of guilt and blame by claiming that she had no other choice, that she takes no joy in this, and so forth. But as we see, with how Lilith sometimes taunts Eda about the curse and her age- Lilith DID take some joy in this, and she was the bad guy. Her arc involved finally recognizing this and making a change.

          But right now; She comes to a moment of accusatory, blaming conviction at Eda, as she begins to make her decision…

I can't decide Whether you should live or die Oh, you'll probably go to heaven Please don't hang your head and cry No wonder why My heart feels dead inside It's cold and hard and petrified Lock the doors and close the blinds We're going for a ride

           In this case, “Live or die” is a metaphor for Lilith deciding whether or not to curse Eda. Lilith is assuaging her concerns and dismissing them by insisting to herself that Eda will be just fine without her, that Eda will be fine afterwards… Sure, Eda won’t make it into the Emperor’s Coven now- But she’s skilled enough to have other chances! Lilith doesn’t have that, and even if Eda never made it into the Emperor’s Coven… She’s so talented and amazing (and Lilith genuinely believes this) that Lilith is sure Eda will make her way in life regardless! Eda can excel at whatever she chooses, but Lilith… The Emperor’s Coven is the ONLY option she has to feel worthwhile. Whatever happens to Eda, Lilith assures her it’ll be all right; But she’s also disregarding Eda’s genuine grief with the system in some ways, at the unfairness of it all… Lilith is silencing Eda’s pain and blocking it out in order to justify what she’s done/is about to do.

           And Lilith… She no doubt is thinking about how she IS dead inside, how she’s resigned to this level of self-loathing. And deep-down she wonders if she’s actually a monster who doesn’t actually feel love, and that’s why she’s okay with this; And that allusion to petrification takes on another meaning with what almost happened to Eda, as a result of her capture by Lilith at the end of Season 1. Does Lilith think she should’ve been petrified- Does she think petrification would’ve matched on the outside, what she already was within? No wonder she’s miserable, if Lilith is willing to betray her own sister like this; No wonder she’s in such despair, having just committed this kind of guilty sin and treachery. To even think and consider this means Lilith is a terrible person- And this realization makes her feel depressed and dead inside as the guilt of who she is haunts her for the rest of her life.

          In the end, Lilith is locking the doors and closing the blinds as she prepares to go out to the Night Market for that curse… And yes, her and Eda WILL be in quite the ride, for the rest of their lives when the curse unveils itself the next day.

It's a bitch convincing people to like you If I stop now call me a quitter If lies were cats you'd be a litter Pleasing everyone isn't like you Dancing jigs until I'm crippled Slug ten drinks I won't get pickled

           The first line could be Lilith talking about how hard it is to be loved… How she thinks of herself as a loser, and joining the Emperor’s Coven means approval from both the Emperor AND the Isles as a whole. It means Lilith becoming a role model that’s admired by kids like her, all across the Boiling Isles… Lilith wants to be recognized and appreciated, but that’s just hard for her on multiple levels.

           Or… It’s Lilith talking to EDA, complaining about how hard it is to look after Eda, to provide for her; To convince others that despite Eda’s trouble, she’s worth the time of day! I can see Lilith vouching for Eda several times, working to do damage-control whenever Eda got in trouble, trying to insist to others that her little sister really IS a good person… And as an adult, Lilith has to explain to Belos that Eda doesn’t deserve to be petrified, she’s actually an amazing witch with so much potential, who’d do way better as a member of his coven than as a statue! She’s vouching for Eda to the Emperor’s Coven, and she feels like Eda isn’t appreciating her efforts; And Lilith feels like she’s beginning to jeopardize herself as well, what with Kikimora questioning her biases.

           If Lilith just gives up now, the system would no doubt dismiss her as a quitter; And it could be an angry jab at Eda’s support for quitting, as see with her Quitter’s Badge as an adult. The competitive nature of the coven system means that to Lilith, she doesn’t want to ‘quit’, she doesn’t want to lose- And on the flipside… If Lilith stops trying to vouch for Eda as an adult, Eda would no doubt accuse her of not taking care of her own sister, of being a traitor. Either way, Lilith feels like her efforts aren’t being appreciated and acknowledged, and that if she were to stop, she’d be ridiculed. Lilith also accuses Eda of lies… Does she accuse Eda of lying to her about being by her side; About going into the Emperor’s Coven together, as they planned?

           Does Lilith think of Eda as a liar, whenever Eda pretends to approach her on good terms, only to rebuke her; Like at the end of Covention, or when Luz-Eda seemingly got captured to join the Emperor’s Coven, and then changed her mind? Or is this Lilith talking to herself- Because of all the lies she tells herself and others, about how it’s all fine… That she doesn’t know who cursed Eda, that this for her and everyone else’s own good, and that the Emperor’s Coven is a just and noble cause. The biggest lie of all to Lilith, is that she’s happy. Regardless, Lilith also laments about how Eda doesn’t care for pleasing others, that she doesn’t intend to conform- It’s distinctive and characteristic of her sister, to Lilith’s chagrin, because it causes issues… And to Lilith, Eda doesn’t make HER happy by compromising, by going into the Emperor’s Coven- She’s always causing trouble because she just has to, she can never make things easy and makes it so hard to love Eda…

I've got to hand it to you You've played by all the same rules It takes the truth to fool me And now you've made me angry

           Yet for all of Lilith’s resentment and jealousy towards Eda; She knows that Eda deserves this more than her. She admits that Eda always worked harder, that she was always more passionate and smarter about everything. The Coven System is easy to justify when it places you on top, because it’s a meritocracy- And now Lilith has to begrudgingly acknowledge that if Eda is doing better, then according to the system, it’s because Eda IS better. Sure, Eda sometimes cheats- But by the end of the day, cheating or not, as shown in Wing it like Witches… Eda will always be superior.

           As for the truth- Lilith is always in denial of reality. Eda says she’ll never join the Emperor’s Coven as an adult, yet Lilith is so certain that Eda secretly wants to, or will eventually change her mind. Likewise, Lilith’s insecurity leads her to believe things that aren’t true- It makes Lilith think Eda doesn’t actually care about her, would throw her under the bus to join the Emperor’s Coven… So Lilith is so incredibly blind-sided by the reality that Eda would never do this. Lilith doesn’t want to admit that she’s wrong and it’s all for naught- So the truth is secretly a lie to her.

           And now… Now Eda’s made her angry. Eda’s taking away this dream from Lilith by being so much better… She’s made Lilith’s curse unnecessary by refusing to duel, making Lilith feel like a fool; And in Agony of a Witch, Eda makes Lilith so angry and bitter, that she confesses to the curse in a brief fit of spite.

           (Cue repeat lyrics)

Oh, I could throw you in the lake Or feed you poisoned birthday cake I won't deny I'm gonna miss you when you're gone Oh, I could bury you alive But you might crawl out with a knife And kill me when I'm sleeping That's why

           These different methods of murder can serve as a metaphor for Lilith deciding how to sabotage Eda, how to cheat her way to victory. Lilith is going to miss her bond with Eda, because she knows that she’s about to jeopardize and sabotage it, potentially irreparably; Either way, Lilith is saying goodbye to those innocent times with Eda, to that guiltless friendship… And Lilith is saying goodbye to an un-cursed Eda, and innocent one who was never betrayed. She DOES miss Eda, and she will- She takes no pleasure in this! Lilith will make sure to tenderly remember Eda, that she does appreciate what Eda did for her, and will use her contributions and ‘sacrifice’ to achieve well as Head of the Emperor’s Coven…

           But Lilith knows and fears retribution from Eda. When Eda finds out about the curse… Or in general, Eda’s justified anger at Lilith forsaking her for the Emperor’s Coven, for continuing to support a corrupt organization. For ignoring what the coven system has done to Eda and so many others; It’s the guilt and potential for retribution that haunts Lilith and scares her. It’s the unexpected consequences of what she’s done- Which become the unexpected side-effects of the curse… Because Lilith makes so many mistakes believing that the effects won’t be as severe as they actually turn out to be; Such as by losing Amity’s respect by placing that power glyph, or inciting Luz’s anger at her after Lilith completely forgot about the girl.

          And that imagery of being attacked in one’s sleep is certainly ironic, considering how Lilith ended up cursing Eda… And how fitting is then, that Lilith herself becomes cursed like Eda, and is now going to live life in her shoes, as a fellow outcast and criminal from the Emperor’s Coven! Lilith will sell trash, struggle to get elixir… But she’ll also taste freedom and meet people like Luz and King. Lilith will understand what Eda went through, how she suffered- But also how Eda became so much happier away from the system… Lilith is going to see life through Eda’s eyes, appreciate Eda’s decisions, and no longer blame her for them- And she’ll soon agree and even provide support for Eda’s choices, and want to participate in that life, to get back into that family and connection.

           (Cue repeat lyrics- And that’s end of the song!)

           In the end, we know what decision Lilith made. We see the indecisiveness, but eventually she does it… And she regrets it. The consequences DO come back to haunt her, and it’s why Lilith can’t trust herself to make any decisions- Because she knows that her judgment is flawed and she’ll always screw up, even when she doesn’t mean to. Perhaps Lilith will feel like she’s affirming the judgment and doubt of others, as well as herself… We know the rest of the story and how it plays out, this is all just lamentable history. What’s done is done, and Lilith knows both then and now that she’s so sad and pathetic for even being at this crossroads, for not even having the confidence to make a decisive choice- And it’s humiliating and embarrassing and frustrating, all the same. She wishes she had the conviction of Belos, or Eda… But she just doesn’t mean.

           But… at the Owl House, maybe Lilith WILL get that conviction. She’s now making the choice to help Eda and change- So for once, Lilith might get some agency and initiative in life, and learn to control her own circumstances… And to make her OWN destiny, as Eda always advised! Lilith can own up what’s happened to her and do something about it, get a say of what goes on, and who she is- She can overcome this song of helpless indecision, this song lamenting that the narrator has even come to this point in life; It’s sad that Lilith even reached this kind of choice because of her own poor decisions… But at least now, she can finally move on and get to a better place. There was a hilarity in despair, but now Lilith can actually laugh in relief and happiness for once.

[starfirette]

fantasy | diana prince x reader

»a/n: 😈

»masterlist

» Diana Prince x Reader | sensitive Diana | fem x fem smut | lowkey angst | wordcount: 4,563

Your little London townhouse has a perfect view of the steelyards and its workers who slave away under a sunless sky. It’s your tradition to fall asleep to the sound of them packing up, then to wake up to the sounds of them beginning work again.

To say time passes slowly for you would be a grand understatement.

You tried many times to find happiness in the city, looking high and low in the most unseemly of places. No thing or person could make you happy these days. You sit at a desk most of your life, taking notes for a bitter old man who can’t ever say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Secretary positions are all the rage these days since it’s the only real way women can make money without signing away their soul and what little freedom that have to an angry, rich man. To be a wife is to be silent and gentle, even if you’re hot tempered by nature. If you were to marry, you would surely have to give up the outlandish dreams you have. You crave independence, freedom, true love; what woman doesn’t yearn for these things? Some women have the unsuspecting loophole to win a man’s affections and hope he will let them at least pretend they have rights.

This option is not one you can choose so easily. You have never had eyes for a man. When you are alone, lounging on your bed or soaking in the tub, you envision yourself in the arms of a woman.

That’s your deepest, darkest ‘secret.’ You badly want to live in a world where your desires of romance don’t count as a real personality trait or as a sin.

You’ve never uttered this secret to anyone, ever. How could you? What friends do you have that are loyal enough to keep that to themselves?

Conversion therapy frightens you a good deal more than a heterosexual marriage. And that’s saying something.

There are plenty of times where you feel completely alone, stranded in silence, and forced to live in your cramped, London townhouse, where the wind whistles through the cracks of the walls and the floorboards creak anxiously. Even in your own home you feel trapped.

The only escape are your books, which you come upon rarely enough as it is. Your books aren’t the type of books women read. Your books are textbooks. Some you’ve purchased under fake names or titles, as if you were shopping for your husband or father. Some you’ve stolen. But all are cherished by you.

The largest wall of your home is lined with weak shelving where you could display your texts happily. Almost proudly.

Ah, to have independence—to be free to study at a university, to do such good with talents reserved solely for a man. And how could they be? What makes you different from a man? You love women, like they do! You breathe, like they do!

It’s the curls of your hair that keeps you from achieving your dreams. The breasts and the curve of your hips which you are coerced into keeping hidden, even on the hottest summer day.

In your ideal world you’d live with a wife, with a few cats and dogs, and you’d be a real doctor of history. A professional, dedicated to her work of uncovering the truths of the world.

In your ideal world...

It doesn’t do good to live in a fantasy land. As cruel as your reality can be, it is the only reality you have. It is in this reality that you must crawl out of bed at five in the morning and be at the office no later than twenty after six, with a plate of pastries and a mug of tea ready for Mr. Landings.

A dreary winter day you leave your London townhouse dressed in a new, fine suit of buttercream cashmere. It had taken the majority of your yearly savings to purchase, but you figured if you cannot be granted the right to bury your head in a woman’s thighs, you can at least dress the way you’d like to.

It’s always best to wake up extra early to be at the front of the bakery line. The freshest breakfast treats sell out first thing of the bakery’s opening, and considering you buy for Mr. Landings, Mr. Trevor, Mr. Carber, and the two respective secretaries, you have no choice but to be at the front of that damned line. This morning the cost of your number three spot was your rouge and lipstick. You feel absolutely plain, but your fine suit cancels out most of the insecurity.

You managed to get a good number of items. On your way out you found most of the line to be other secretaries, dressed in their own cashmere suits and nervously tapping their heels. No doubt they were praying the bakery didn’t sell out of breakfast goodies. You tip your hat down to avoid meeting their eyes. You’ve had your share of failed food runs, and it’s never fun.

You run across the street, only able to take sparing steps as your heels wrestle against loose gravel. You arrive to the office at the perfect time, with your fellow secretaries Etta Candy and Julia Deneiros still in the process of unlocking the doors.

“Sorry I’m late,” you murmured to your work friends.

“You have nothing to apologize for when you have the breakfast, my dear,” Julia assured you.

As Etta got the doors open, Julia ushered you in first. You hurried to set the treasure down on the main desk of the office. Once that was out of the way, you started tea in the side room, then proceeded to settle at your ‘desk.’ It was a small slate of red stained wood, though the legs sometimes wobbled and creaked. Your telephone on the left, accompanied by the contacts you kept for Mr. Landings, hardly rang as Etta usually took care of every business call.

Emptying your pockets took hardly a minute. You set your coin purse and silver pocket watch on the wood before shuffling through the loose pages that cluttered your workspace.

The tea kettle lets out a whistle. Julia tended to it herself, and you softly muttered a ‘Thank you’ but she’d already been gone.

Around a nibble of croissant, Etta wondered aloud whether Mr. Trevor would be coming in today.

You shrug without looking away. "Perhaps he's gotten himself a lucky lady,” you suggested. Julia poured you a steaming cup of tea.

You half expected Etta to scold you, but she instead made a small sound of agreement. “I suppose he could have found himself an exotic bride!” Etta laughed.

Julia giggled like a school girl, choking on her words: “We mustn’t gossip!”

Even though she said as such, she couldn’t help but to entertain the topic. The two ladies remarked that Mr. Trevor would settle with one woman the day the sky turned green.

And for a moment, you agreed with them, humming softly into your tea before you took a cautious sip.

For a brief moment the world was just right—and then Mr. Trevor quite literally waltzed inside with a beautiful woman.

Now, beautiful couldn’t properly describe this woman. What you notice first was her lips, round and quirked as though she was seeing an office like this for the first time in her life. Her eyes sparkled with a million untold stories.

Also, she appeared to be wearing the strangest of costumes. A coat of black fur strapped close to her waist, but every step she took revealed flashes of bare legs. You could have fainted.

Etta only saw the face of her boss, and she cheered. “You’re not dead!” She exclaimed. She doted over the wrinkles of Steve Trevor’s suit before hitting him over the chest with friendly familiarity. “I did think you were dead, you know.”

You frowned. “No, you didn’t,” you mumbled halfheartedly. You made to your feet, shuffling over to greet Mr. Trevor. “Hello,” you said, nodding your head.

The young woman met your eyes and she smiled, showcasing her perfect, pearly teeth.

“I’m Y/n L/n,” you say, forcing yourself not to stutter. Etta introduced herself next, holding a hand out to the woman for a handshake. While that would have been proper, you find it’s rather scary to shake hands with attractive people.

“We ladies are Mr. Trevor and Mr. Landings’s secretary.”

She cocked a thick brow. “What is a secretary?” She has a thick accent, one you can’t quite recognize, but it’s rather musical.

“Oh, well, we do everything. Go where tells me to go, do what he tells me to do.”

The woman looked flabbergasted. “Where I’m from that’s called slavery!”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. Both you and Etta became large fans of the woman, who introduced herself as Diana. No last name, but she seemed so confident with the partial title that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

“Would you like a cup of tea? Shall I take your coat?” You offered. Can we run away and get married and adopt lots of babies?

“Oh, thank you,” Diana beamed. She went to shrug off her fur, and you quickly stopped her when you saw what she had been wearing under it. Etta lurched to tie the coat up tight, making Diana grunt as the air was pushed from her lungs.

You laugh nervously, eyeing Mr. Trevor, who looked annoyed rather than surprised.

“Fantastic,” Mr. Trevor snubbed. “Ladies, would we care for a trip to, uhm, get Diana new...well, new…”

“Clothes?” You suggested when Mr. Trevor became clearly uncomfortable.

“Yes, that, thank you.”

“Mr. Trevor I would be more than willing to, but I do have to wait for Mr. Landings—”

“Nonsense, Miss L/n, Julia can manage on her own. Let’s just be on our way.” You gathered your few things, shoving your coin purse and silver watch deep into your pocket. “Sorry, Julia, dear,” you say. She shakes her head. “It isn’t a bother. Try to enjoy your day out of the office.”

You smiled and waved her goodbye before joining Mr. Trevor and the ladies.

Mr. Trevor inquired where you and Etta frequent for clothes. You suggested Paya’s Apparel, but Etta suggested Madame Penny’s Dresser. You tried not to take notice when Mr. Trevor sized your outfit up to Etta’s. He dubbed Etta’s suit no doubt fancier and declared Madame Penny’s.

Diana didn’t move her feet to follow. “What is the difference?” She asked. She asked you. You were caught at a pause. “I would think Mr. Trevor finds Madame Penny’s

more suitable for a...for you.” You awkwardly shoved your hands into the pockets of your skirt. You’d splurged on this suit. Or so you thought.

“Steve! Steve, wait, let's go to Pa-Papaya’s?” Diana asked you.

“Just Paya’s,” you giggle.

“Steve,” Diana continued, “I think Paya’s will do just fine.”

Mr. Trevor sighed heavily, as if he had been expecting something like that to happen. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Diana held a hand out. You looked at it fearfully. “We are walking together, so should we hold hands?” She asked. She went to wrap her hand in yours. Steve scrambled for Diana’s arm, pushing it down to her side. “No, no, no, don’t hold hands. When I said people hold hands when they’re together, I meant together as in married.”

Diana’s mouth rounded out as she said, “Oh!” She sent you an apologetic smile, to which you promptly looked away from. Looking her in the eye made you nauseous, more than you’ve ever felt before.

Away you were whisked to Paya’s. It’s a good center, with plenty of fashionable dresses. Admittedly it isn’t nearly as expensive as Mr. Trevor probably would have preferred. But it’s fashionable, affordable, even for you. It’s a large shop with dim lights behind brassy lamps and lanterns.

Diana looked around, her eyebrows raised practically to hairline. She approached a mannequin clad with a silky pink corset. She touched the material and frowned. “Is this what passes for armor in your country?” She asked.

You couldn’t quite imagine what she meant by armor.

“No, no,” Etta explained, “that’s what keeps our tummies in.”

Diana sent a sharp glance to Etta. “Why must you keep them in?” She demanded.

Etta repressed a few other comments. She settled with, “Only a woman with no tummy would ask such a question.”

“Why don’t we look around?” You suggest as Diana’s eyes wander for more things to poke at. You figure she’s never visited a London shop before. Where could she be from that has such different traditions?

“How about this one?” Etta suggested as she found a brown suit with a thick fur wrap. “Stylish, professional, but still good to wear for a night on the town!” Etta seemed thrilled with her sales pitch. You weren’t impressed. If Diana was to wear something, she should wear something more flattering. Of course Diana could wear a sheet of dirty canvas and still look stunning.

Diana tucked her hand into yours, catching your attention immediately. You looked to her, finding that her eyes were already fixated on you. “What do you think of this one?” She asked. She didn’t seem sure of her own choice. Your legs felt numb as Diana’s fingers tickled the top of your hand.

You quickly pulled away from her. “I think something like this would be better,” you suggested, turning to the first suit you could find. It was black, with a long skirt and a frilly kind of blouse.

Diana still seemed uncertain. Mr. Trevor begged her to at least give it a shot. Diana sighed. “I suppose I can,” she declared. She began to remove her coat. You got a longer glimpse at what was underneath it.

Etta darted like lightning to stop her. Once again Diana was gasping with confusion as Etta tied her coat shut tightly. “Come with me, dear,” Etta said, blotting the sweat off her forehead with her handkerchief. “We’ll find you a dressing room.”

Diana was ushered off with Etta, leaving you to recollect your thoughts. You stopped Mr. Trevor from following.

“Might I have a word, sir?” You softly asked.

“Of course.” He continued to look quite ill.  

“It’s just that I did see what she was wearing, sir,” you began. You’d seen such similar armor in your stolen books. “Is she…?”

Mr. Trevor suddenly gripped you by the shoulders. He looked absolutely relieved. “So you know about them?! And the magic island? I don’t think I can handle it on my own, Y/n.”

You blinked a few times. “Did you say magic island?” You finally asked. “No, I meant is she Greek?”

Mr. Trevor recoiled, falling into a fit of coughs. “Absolutely, yes,” he said. “I’ll be...I need some water.”

You wonder what in the hell happened to Mr. Trevor for him to lose his usual composure. He’s been known to always have a witty remark for something, but today he’s entirely off his usual tempo.

You searched for Etta. She is speaking with the oncall saleswoman, who was in the process of explaining the most boring details of Diana’s selected suit. “Etta, Mr. Trevor bid me go ask you if you could pick out a few more outfits for Miss Diana to try.”

“Of course!” Etta said. “Stay and wait with her, please?”

“Done,” you promise.

Etta and the saleswoman took off to find more dresses and blazers for Diana. You looked around before darting back to the dressing rooms. “Diana?” You called.

A door opened promptly. “Hello.”

“H-hi,” you stuttered out.

Facing her was incredibly difficult. Her eyes literally seemed to sparkle with pure joy. Among that, her hair falls over her shoulders in loose, brown curls. Her coat is off, strewn behind her over a chaise. You can see her arrangement of weapons on the floor. Her armor, red and gold, has yet to be removed.

“I wanted to-to speak with you. About you.”

Diana moved aside for you to come in. You felt a bit uncomfortable. It’s not really wrong for you to be here. Any other woman wouldn’t mind helping Diana dress, and afterall, richer women have handmaids specifically for dressing them and even to bathe them. Diana may be a stranger but she’s warm and kind; she’s different.

She didn’t seem to bashful about her variety of weaponry. You’re mostly in awe.

“I’ve never known any female warrior before,” you muttered as you gave the sword a final glance. The hilt had strong patterns carved over it, and the blade looked razor sharp. A stab with that sword would feel completely painless at first, while the blade sliced through you like a ribbon.

“I am an Amazon,” Diana explained.

“Pardon me?” You asked.

“Warriors put upon the world by the gods. We are...well, a bridge to a better world. The guardians of mankind and all that is good.”

Oh, well okay. You weren’t exactly sure how to respond to that, considering it’s a bit crazy.

“You don’t believe me,” Diana says. “I cannot say I don’t understand. We have lived in secret for most of history.” She shrugged in her plates of metal. “I feared the world was under a bigger threat than it ever has been. That is why I left my people to join Steve Trevor.”

You nod. “Alright, I guess. While I’m hesitant to believe all of your story, I trust Mr. Trevor’s judgement.”

Diana smiled at that. “That is all I need.”

She gestured to the loose garments of purple you’d chosen for her before. “I hate to trouble you more than I already have. But I cannot understand how this is supposed to work.” She referred to the corset which ties up underneath every layer. “Oh, well generally someone can do it for you, but there are some that tie up in the front. Should I choose one of those for you?”

“No, that’s alright. I have you to help me.” Diana started to remove the plates of armor, starting with her thigh pieces. She organized her things very sternly, as if she were keeping a strict inventory log in her mind. For all you know she is.

She wrapped her arms over her chest to keep some modesty, but even so, even as you chant to yourself not to look, you felt your mouth become bone dry. You grabbed the corset and waved for Diana to turn around. She molds the front of the corset to her chest, using one arm to keep it in place while she used her left hand to move her hair. Your fingers dragged over her skin. She is so golden, so soft. The smell of soap and seafoam lingers.

You could easily dip your head down and kiss her neck.

You force the thoughts from your head. Trembling, you lace up the corset, hardly able to maximize your strength as you pull as tight as you can. Your limbs feel like phantoms. They move on their own while you bite back tears.

When you finished, you blotted your tears away with the inside of your wrist. “I’ll be leaving, now,” you tell her. “Good luck.”

Fleeing the room while Diana calls after you was the only way to save yourself. The need for Diana built up strong in your belly, as did the cloud of heartache in your chest. Your breath became restricted by the pain. You brushed past Etta on the way out of the store, briefly explaining you needed to leave and to send your apologies to Mr. Trevor.

What worries you most isn’t Mr. Trevor and Diana’s alarmingly fictional stories, or even Diana’s weaponry she keeps strapped to her body; it was the fact you had let Diana get to you. She messed with your brain without even knowing it, and now you couldn’t help but think how horrible your life is.

You briskly walked home. You fumble with your keys at the door, scraping the sides of the lock with the blade. Throwing yourself inside is the only thing that relieves you. This little house by the steel mills is your palace of your true nature. While you shiver at night and hear things creak, you can at least be yourself.

Typically you would calm yourself with a nap or a bath, but your nerves are far too shot.

You journeyed straight to your bedroom and kicked off your heels. Settling over the squeaky mattress with your lip caught in your teeth, you struggle to steady your hands enough so you can unbutton the top of your coat.

You lay back and slide your hand down your belly, poking through the band of your skirt. And you imagine…

You imagine yourself in that dressing room, your hands sliding down Diana’s smooth back.

You pressed the smallest of kisses atop her bare shoulder. The little hairs on her neck rise, her breath caught. She turns on her heels to face you, practically forehead to forehead.

She drops the corset to the floor, kicking it away without a care in then world. Her hand finds yours, and she holds it one more time, tickling your skin with the lad of her thumb. With a gentle smile, Diana raises your hand to hold one soft breast.

You palm and squeeze at her, feeling completely in awe of her beauty. Diana dragged you down to kneel with her on the floor. In the fantasy you lay not in a dressing room, but on a soft quilt. Where you are doesn’t matter; it’s Diana. Diana pushes you to your back, undoing the clips in your hair and massaging your scalp of the pain your tight bun left behind. She drags her fingers through your hair, then down your chest. She bows her head down, mouth catching your hard left nipple. Your right breast is tended to with her hand, while your left earns the attention of hee teeth, tongue, and lips. She leaves tender bruises over your chest, purring her affections and compliments into you.

Soon she trails her mouth down. Her long, dark hair drags over your stomach. Diana places herself just between your thighs, resting her weight onto one of her elbows.

With two fingers she spreads you apart to see your dripping cunt clenching with suspense. Diana presses a kiss to your hipbones. With a finger dipping inside of you, she catches arousal and swirls it around your hole, preparing to widen you out. Two of her fingers creep inside of you, curling up and pressing the top of your cunt’s walls, making you lurch your hips up against her face.

With a muscled arm she pushes your hips down, a hand digging into you to keep you in place as her lips pucker over your aching clit.

The bead pulsed with excitement as Diana pressed a gentle kiss against it. Her tongue poked out to swirl a small circle over your clitoris. You whined, wiggling your hips desperately to feel more of Diana.

Her fingers pumped in and out, scissoring apart and always tickling that magic spot deep inside of you.

Her tongue swirled faster and wider, occasionally taking breaks to ease the muscle, but her attention on you never failed.

Her cherry red lips sucked on your clit. She sang a sweet song into your cunt, the vibrations making your thighs tremble.

She made you cum hard over her fingers, which she stuck within her mouth to clean them.

As you wind down, she places her own two fingers at her own entrance, already slick with arousal. She lubricates her own clit, rubbing the bead for a few moments while gasping your name like a prayer. She roughly grabbed at your legs, spreading them apart so she could position herself at your cunt. She lowered carefully onto you, her warm pussy sliding against yours.

She forced one of your legs over her shoulder as she started to wiggle her hips. She murmured your name, casting her head back and closing her eyes. The movement was rhythmic and precise, your clit rubbing against hers sweetly. Tears bubbled in your eyes, blurring the vision of Diana’s face as she fucked you into the floor, her hips bucking faster, skin and cum mixing and slapping loudly.

Lewd moans fell out of your mouth as you cried out to Diana, begging her for more, to which she obliged. She thrusted faster, kissing the side of your leg that now trembled violently over her shoulder.

You whimpered when she sang your name, a warm smile still quirked on her lips.

You wanted to sink into the fuzzy blanket and stay there forever, being fucked blissfully by Diana’s hot, soaking cunt.

The intense orgasm brought you to the brink of sobs as Diana pushed your hips hard into the floor. “Fuck, yes,” you shout. You beg for it harder and Diana listens, giving you everything you could ever want.

In your fantasy you would cum twice. You would reciprocate the pleasure, flipping Diana over and crawling between her thighs. Her hand would weave in your loose hair, pushing your face deeper into her hips. Your tongue would dip into her entrance, lapping up her cum like it was honey. You would send wide stripes up and down her before using one finger inside of her—then two, then the third, as gently as you could. Her hips would be grinding against your face, her cum dribbling down your chin. She would whimper like she never has before, moaning your name mercilessly, because it doesn’t matter who heard.

Your fantasy ends.

Your fingers are soaked with cum and you move off your bed to wash your hands. You use a warm, damp cloth to clean the mess between your thighs. A part of you feels satisfied, but only the primal part. The rest of you feels sad. Lonely. You crawl into bed, still dressed in your new red suit. You wonder if Diana thinks you to be totally insane, considering how you had run away so abruptly. You worry that she knows, somehow, your secret. You want to know what she would think. What would she say if you ran to her, now, and confessed you wanted nothing more than to kiss her and be held by her muscley, tanned arms.

Despite it being the dead middle of the day, you stay in your bed for hours. Your telephone rings a few times, but you don’t bother. It could easily be your office calling to fire you.

Something within you no longer cares. Let them.

Leave this place, maybe, and find that magic island which Mr. Trevor had spoken of. It would be a land of freedom; freedom to study what you want, to kiss who you want—to sleep in past eight in the morning and not worry about the secretariat duties of providing breakfast.

If Diana is an “Amazon” then you want to be one too. For besides her blatant beauty, there was something about Diana that was incredible. Her smile, her eyes—she glistened with confidence. She knows who she is.

You know who she is, too.

She’s the love of your life, but of a life you will never get to have.

[rodgersandhypnostein]

Gypsys, Tramps and Thieves Part 1 - Mister John Acton

Thursday, 8th of May, 1817.

Pemberton, Kent.

Another week, another village to perform and be gawked at. If there’s one thing I know to be true after 20 years in this life, it’s there are two types of attention: good attention and bad attention, and all me and my family have ever gotten in our lives is bad attention. It was bad enough to come from an Irish family born in England, where we’re treated like second-class citizens. It’s funny how even the poorest, baddest people feel as if they’re superior just because they were born English, and are even treated better by others! As if being born Irish wasn’t enough of a bad situation to be in, me and my family are travellers! While I’m proud of my heritage, and I suppose my lifestyle as well, I know that it’s not an ideal combination to have. So all my life, I’ve only ever been seen as the poor, uneducated Irish gypsy, to be laughed at by the kids and looked down on by the adults. Sometimes I think to myself how nice it would be to just live a normal life, in one place I can call my home, respected by my peers, where I don’t have to worry abou-

‘Bradán, will you get your head out of that book and get out here. Your brothers and I have been busting our arses to set up for the next show and you’ve been sat in here, doing fuck all’, my father, Seamus. He and I never really seemed to get on - he says that I think too much of myself because I learned to read, and I’ve never been good enough in his eyes.

Begrudgingly, I got up with as little visible annoyance as I could muster, with an obedient ‘yes father’. Now you know what I do for a living, me and my family run a travelling show. We can do anything! We can read your palms, contact your loved ones beyond, and can even control your very own mind. Yeah, we basically go from village to village scamming people for their money. We each have our own roles to play, my mother’s our ‘psychic’ she can tell your future and speak to the dead - for a steep price. My sister is the typical ‘gypsy beauty’, meant to draw in horny single men and entice them with her dancing. My brothers are the ‘strongmen’, they can lift anything, break anything and seduce any woman they want. My father preaches from the bible, and sells various concoctions to cure any ailment. And as for me, I’m the stage hypnotist, I get the pleasure of hypnotising people to act stupidly, a small moment of relief from my day.

Unsurprisingly, our reputation always seems to get to each village and town before we do. We always have someone telling us that we’re crooks and hethons, doomed for eternal damnation. But desire and curiosity always win out in the end, so we never seem to go without at least a decent amount of money. Horny men will always want to see the half-dressed girl shaking and gyrating on stage, and the older variety of said men will always waste their money if it means that they can have a chance of growing their hair back, before listening to the preacher, to atone for their night of sin.

As I was helping my brothers set up the stage for the show, two men, seemingly the village’s most eligible, and dare I say attractive, bachelors were having a walk together, and were heading right towards us. Of course they never approached us directly, they would never risk damaging their status by being seen with us. But I could hear them talking amongst themselves as they walked past.

‘Lord! It seems those menaces have decided to plague our village with their dastardly tricks’ One of the three, a shorter man with a decent build, but who had a nice and round bum.

‘John, don’t be so loud, they may hear us. These aren’t the kind of people we want to provoke’ another man said, in a distressed whisper. He was also fairly attractive, with short, straight blond hair, somewhat shorter than the first man, with a less muscular build to him.

‘Mark, don’t worry. They can’t understand a word we say, they don’t speak English. They can only speak in that barbaric Irish language. They never had that hideous tongue bashed out of them in school, because they never went to school. You have nothing to fear’, said one of them, who seemed to be the leader of the group. He had dark, curly hair with a beautiful bone structure and build. He obviously was every woman’s first choice for a husband in the village. And with that, they fell out of hearing distance. Twats.

Nothing else really happened that day, other than a few of the local women coming to stare at my brothers’ muscles, with them reciprocating by putting on a little for the women. But I couldn’t get what those two had been saying about me and my family. They were talking about us as if we were wild animals. The nerve of them to act as if we couldn’t even speak English, how insulting could they get! And they were meant to be the gentlemen of the village! But there was nothing I could do except daydream about what I could do to them.

Saturday, 10th of May 1817

Pemberton, Kent

Well, today’s the beginning of our week-long freakshow. The show hadn’t even been on for an hour before we got our first naysayer. It was one of the men who had been insulting us during their walk. As luck would have it, our little John fellow was the local priest in this parish, and had taken offence to our heathen practices. 

Normally we would ignore this type of people and continue with the show. And that was what I was planning to do, until a truly ‘dastardly trick’ popped into my head.

I walked over to the gentleman, putting my plan into action. ‘Excuse me, Mister?’

‘Acton, Mister John Acton, the priest of this parish. And as priest of this parish, I can’t stand by and allow my flock to be tempted by your unholy deeds’. He replied, rather aggressively, but that was to be expected.

‘Of course, Mister Acton. I can perfectly understand why you would be inclined to think that way. But that’s not necessarily what we do around here. In fact, I use my hypnotism to bring people’s inner soul and spirit out, so they can be brought closer to God. We’ve always been of the belief that we can never truly know the wisdom of our creator, but with an open heart we can begin to understand it. I can give you a demonstration if you’d like’ Absolute rubbish. All of it. But I needed him to believe it had something to do with God for him to agree.

‘All right. I’ll try it if it can help me understand God’s power and wisdom, but not here, I can’t let the parishioners see me agreeing to this.’ He gave in. Perfect. The fly enters the spider’s web, unaware of what’s in store for him.

‘Of course not. We’ll do it in private, besides, only God should know of your devotion to him.’

We began walking to the family carriage, and couldn’t help but get semi-hard at the idea of enslaving the first of the many attractive men in this village’.

‘Alright, Mister Acton, if you would sit yourself down there. Very good. So to begin I’ll just ask you to keep close attention to his pendant, as I slowly swing it from side to side, not breaking your gaze from it. Very good’. 

Now it begins, and I want to bring this man slowly to his downfall, as a bit of revenge for the insulting words he said yesterday. This is something I’m taking great pleasure in.

‘Now, as you concentrate more and more on the swinging of the pendant, your mind will be left more and more open for me to communicate with, and soon enough, God’s wisdom will be within sight’. This continued for a while, until I could clearly see that he was beginning to go under slightly.

‘Alright, I can see that your mind is opening more and more to my words, so I shall begin opening it. I will begin to count down from 10, and with each count, you will become more and more relaxed, and at 0, you’ll fall into a deep trance’.

‘10, getting more comfortable in your seat’

‘9, your body feeling almost weightless’

‘8, your breathing is getting deeper and deeper’

‘7, you’re beginning to sigh with relaxation at each breath’

‘6, your mind is beginning to lose control of your body’

‘5, you can’t help but increasingly hard from the relaxation’

‘4, you can’t help but rub your bum across the chair, for stimulation’

‘3, you’re slowly getting addicted to this relaxation and pleasure’

‘2, you’ll do anything to feel this relaxation and pleasure’

‘1, you’ll serve me in any way I command, to continue feeling this pleasure’

‘0, now sleep!’

And with that, the priest’s short, thick frame slumped over slightly in the chair, with a hard cock and arse on display, with a small, dreamy smile on his face.

‘When I snap my fingers, you’ll awaken and do anything I ask. I will also be able to bring you back to this state whenever I utter the words ‘butt boy’. Do you understand?’. Now that he was firmly under my control, I was going to have some fun with this man.

‘Yes’ he replied in a sleepy voice.

‘Yes Master, you need to say’ My cock instantly sprung to life with that command, realising the commanding potential I have.

‘Yes Master’, he replied in a pleasurable voice, no doubt because he obeyed my command.

‘Very good, slave. Now the first thing I want you to do is strip. God never intended for us humans to wear clothes, and thus to prove your faith to him, you must show him your rejection of such an unnatural practice’. Well, that and because I wanted to see that juicy arse in all its glory.

‘Yes Master’. With that, my newest slave began to strip down to his bare body. He then sat back down into his chair, but not before I got a glimpse of his perfect bum and decently-sized cock, pity it will never be used however.

‘Now, John. As you may be aware, the penis is the source of all human life. It is thus the closest to God we will ever come. Therefore, just as God should be worshipped and adored, so should the human penis. Luckily for you, I’m willing to let you do that on mine. You don’t have to fear anyone finding, it’ll be our little secret.’

‘Yes, penis must be worshipped’ He repeated, sliding down onto the floor. He then proceeded to pull my dick out of my trousers before lovingly gazing at it.

‘In fact, it’s been said that one of the best ways of showing your adoration of the male penis is to use your mouth. So go ahead, start licking it.’ Unsurprisingly, he obeyed. His licks began small, only using the tip of tongue for short licks. However, as he continued, and began to enjoy it more, he started using the whole surface of his tongue, licking from the tip to base, up and down.

‘Very good, you’re making it very happy indeed. Another way to show how much you love the male penis is to wrap your whole mouth around, and like how you licked, go up and down. I can promise you this will make the penis very appreciated.’ And with that, I began to get comfortable in my chair as the once zealous priest began blowing me.

Even though he was new at this, the young priest showed a lot of promise in giving head. I have to admit, my cock has never leaked this much from a first timer’s blowjob. I could certainly get used to this. Although, after a while my mind began to wander to his thick arse, and I suddenly felt the urge to fuck something, and with that mind, I gave my next order.

‘Stop slave, I have one more thing to share with you. My penis is feeling so good because of your worship, and it has decided to give you a gift. Now, the penis is the source of life, and it has been known to give life and purpose to a select few boys who choose to dedicate their lives to its service. I’m perfectly willing to bestow this gift onto you, should you choose to dedicate your life to me. Do you accept?’

Now was the make or break moment. It’s one thing to get a boy to give me a hummer under hypnosis, but another thing entirely for him to surrender his life to worship it. Even though he is firmly under my control, I’m not even sure if he’ll accept.

‘I do, Master.’ 

Sighing in satisfaction and victory, I began to strip my clothes, showing my new servant all he has to look forward to. I ordered him to crawl over to the bed, taking the opportunity to watch his arse moving as he crawled.

Now is the part I’ve been waiting for, ever since I saw his big bum yesterday afternoon. After days of lusting after the young priest, I’m finally going to have him all to myself.

Although my dick was fully lubed with my slaves spit, and would be perfectly adequate to slide between those cheeks, I couldn’t resist tasting him. I ravenously began eating his arse. His hole tasted divine, I could have spent the whole night licking it, getting more and more addicted to the taste. But I had to stop myself, so I could enjoy the feeling of his hole wrapped around my dick.

If I thought the taste of his hole was divine, it was nothing in comparison to the feeling around my dick. It was a tad too tight, but that problem will soon be dealt with. As soon as I could fit my entire dick up there, I went into a horny craze. Soon, all that went through the both of our minds was fucking. I didn’t care if anyone could see or hear, I just needed to fuck this boy’s brains out. 

This went on for what felt like hours, until finally, I came. My cum felt so nice and warm in his arsehole, and I could tell he enjoyed the sensation, and would soon be wanting more, which I’ll gladly give. I knew right then and there that this power over men is far too addictive for me to give up, and I made a resolution to myself that before the month was through, all the men in this village, both single and married, would feel the pleasure of my cock in their arse.

[drasnianfrank]

So to pick up from my previous post, on what the Toll by Cherie Priest, could’ve written instead of and start by focusing on the two cousins who raise a seventeen year old boy and eventual become ghosts that murder monster ghosts. (I wrote some more and I’m not sorry about how it got a little long

So let’s just start by outright changing it that Cee and Dee are lesbians, childhood sweethearts even! Sure the town can say they’re “cousins”, but everyone knows they’ve been married since they finished college and every year they do a “small party, just for a few friends” which is totally not celebrating their wedding. If the author is feeling particularly progressive, they both should be black, with long descriptions of their awesome hair and what kind of skin lotion they use (both have very different answers). Obviously, they would still be witches, voodoo practitioners, shamans, herbalists and the occasional exorcist or at least ghost rustlers. They’re known as the Aunties in the community. 

And yeah, there’s still something weird about the bridges. Only, you have to cross them in the right order and there’s a toll. It’s usually not a life, though. Like a whole a person doesn’t just disappear after walking the seventh bridge. A whole life is usually too much, even for an insatiable, metaphysical maw of darkness. People lose other things, limbs, body parts, memories, the ability to smell roses, because, here’s the Key, there’s a reward for what’s taken. Equivalent Exchange  You cross the seventh bridge and you lose something and you get something in return. Sometimes it’s money, a better position at work, an object that you always wanted, a person you’ve hated finally receives his just reward, the perfect slice of key lime pie, you know the usual. At least that’s what’s the rumors concerning the Toll. 

Now the Aunties, they are gatekeepers, the protectors, the keepers of Lore. If you want to walk to the Toll, you gotta talk to to them. They know the walk and ways and the trades. But you know that doesn’t sit right with other families in the town. Doesn’t matter how pale one of them looks, doesn’t matter that the other has helped with love matches and births of nearly every family member, they’re too damn ‘uppity’ (now you begin to understand why it’s important to talk about skin color in the south). So they send the oldest boy to learn the secrets of the Toll, with the Lore the Family has gathered. He goes to bargain, goes down the right bridges during the right time, with a companion to help. His cousin, butter couldn’t melt in her mouth, sweet Jessie, follows. Only, when the dawn breaks the next day, he’s not back, only Jessie. Jessie doesn’t say what happened, cries in her family’s house and then, dry-eyed, goes to the Aunties, and demands pleads to be an apprentice. 

Dee and Cee, they see that this wisp of a girl with blonde hair and cold eyes, is ambitious and mean and cruel and they should say no. But they can’t because they don’t own their house, or the land surrounding them, and their family and friends don’t own their houses or land. But you know who does? (Remember, racism is a theme in Southern Horror, its invasive in everything). And they agree, because what else can they do but agree? After all, any person who sacrifices their own cousin for ambition needs to be carefully dealt with. They also know they need an heir, and really, ambition is not a sin in their eyes for a girl. Ambition can be a good thing if used properly and they think, they hope, they can use it to help others. So they promise to teach her magic, the power of “voodoo”, and birth control, and herbs, and secrets of the swamp. 

Years pass, as they do. Jessie goes off to college and spends breaks with the Aunties. She still keeps that sweet smile and that vicious ambitious streak seems to have entirely disappeared. Dee and Cee start to relax, teach her a bit more of the darker shades of magic, mild curses and love “potions”. Jessie leaves for a year abroad, a whirlwind affair in Paris, London, European hotspots. 

A week later, Cee finds a baby in the swamp. The baby is almost hidden in a willow tree, almost as dark as the shadows she’s sleeping in. No boy but a little girl, barely a day or two old. These things happen in the swamp, people abandon trash and unwanted items. It even isn’t the first time Cee has found a baby, though usually they’re near dead, about to become part of the ghostly parade around the swamp. (Did I not mention the ghosts? No creepy dollhouse full of ghosts here, there’s ghosts in the Swamp, lynched men and drowned women, lost souls who never found their way out, you know the usual). This little baby though, whether luck or some kindness by the mother, was washed and swaddled and somehow still alive by the time Cee found her. The baby opens her big eyes and Cee gets the same feeling she had when she saw a long-limbed girl jump down from a tree and gave her the biggest, toothiest grin, like it’s love and destiny rolled into one. 

So Cee and Dee raise their swamp baby, Cameron. And they love her but also, raising a baby is hard! There’s doctor’s appointments and diapers and toys and outfits. Family and friends bring food and advice (a mix of helpful, impractical and bizarre). Cameron grows up and things get a little easier. She’s regularly underfoot though, helping in her own way, and once she starts talking, is always asking questions. Ten years pass, then another five. Cameron is almost eighteen and Jessie returns. 

And now, now, we get to heart of the plot. Jessie has spent almost twenty years in Europe, honing her spite and malice under a sweet disposition. She knows old magic, older than any the old Aunties that still stuck in a dying swamp have. But oh how she wants still. For all her searching, The Toll is the only on that will give the most for what she wants for the least, at least if she can finally find out it’s secret. 

Cameron, though, does not want power. Okay, well yes, she does because really she’s almost an adult and curfew is for babies. She has been trailing her Aunties since she was able to carry stuff, watching them help people in the town, black and white, human and animal. Of course she’s a little odd too. Many of her friends were ghosts, she has an affinity to math, and has absolutely no belief in a higher Power. Sunday mornings before church become regular spectacles. 

So Jessie Returns. She assumes she will resume her rightful place as apprentice and instead there’s this small, pudgy girl, running roughshod over the property, knowing more about voodoo and magic and curses than she does. This little tramp, with no family to her name, a trash baby that no one wanted. How could the Aunties pick her over Jessie? 

But they do because Cameron has ambitions, personal, but also ambitions for her community, to make it better, healthier, happier, but Jessie has only had ambition for herself. And the Aunties care less about an heir and more about a guardian, someone who will tend their garden when they leave. 

The Aunties refuse to let admit Jessie as their apprentice, after all she learned all this high falautin magic in Europe, what does she need for a pair of backwater hicks? There is some truth to that but Jessie does not care for someone else telling her no. And Jessie, who is not the leader of the Family (if she had married the boy who disappeared those oh so many years ago, she might have been), still uses her persuasion and her privilege to let loose a much personal, much more chilling, set of of horrors. Fiery crosses appear on lawns, debts are called to people who can’t afford, jobs are suddenly terminated without warning or payment. The Aunties’ community begins to fracture. 

But, eventually, when it looks like the Aunties will have to give in or leave their home, something Changes. An operative from the The Family, not under Jessie’s orders, asks for a Deal. The Family’s business is suffering. A quiet boycott against the family has finally started to impact them and for every fired employee, five more have quit and no one else will work. Jobs aren’t getting done. Lawyers and officers and news people keep calling. 

A deal is made and Jessie is told to back down, to wait and let people stop getting so riled up. 

Jessie does not care for this decision and rages against. She begs, bargains, then threatens her own family, calling them cowards. They remain unmoving. Money is stronger than blood in this regard. 

Jessie, full of rage, decides that damn the Aunties, she will call on the Toll herself. On rainy, dark night, the last night of Mardi Gras, she begins to cross the bridges. The Aunties sense Jessie going on The Walk but they have their own troubles. Magic eventually calls for it’s payment, as does age, and Dee has found a lump on her breast. She and Cee go to the hospital, leaving Cameron to take care of the Toll. Cameron knows how the Toll works, even before the Aunties told her. It’s just math after all. 2=2. 6x3=3x6. And so she too, walks the bridges. 

Each sees a different type of nightmare as they walk. The monsters are the easiest, twisted monstrosities for all that they are. For Jessie, the worst is her the ghost of her cousin, looking at her with that same dumb, shocked expression when she bargained using his life. Cameron walks past fiery crosses, dead bodies, grieving families. 

Both arrive before the Seventh Bridge at the same time. There is a conversation. It lasts three sentences. “What an interesting viewpoint” and “bless your heart” might have been said. Then they run. 

Jessie knows she will win this. She’s tough and mean and stronger and older. But no matter how fast she races over the land, it is Cameron who is always ahead of her (with her dreadlocks flowing her behind). It is Cameron who crosses the bridge first. 

Cameron feels the pull of the Toll, the tantalizing taste of power, of ambition, of taking what should be rightfully hers. There’s the offer. Have what your heart desires and loss only a small thing, an insignificant thing, you’ll barely notice that it’s gone. Cameron, though, her goal, her desire, is for her family to be safe. She wants the lump in her Auntie to not be cancerous, she wants her Aunties to feel safe at home, she wants her family not to be afraid anymore when a group walks by their houses. And oh, does she want too, she wants to be famous and be powerful and make sure nothing ever hurts her community again. But the price for such an ask is one she can’t take. She instead, she wants an answer to a question she had been reading about in one of the math books. 

For her, the Toll is a gentle breeze, the sound of cicadas, the smell of sparklers and the taste of home made pecan pie.

Jessie enters and Wants And Wants And Wants. She craves the power and ambition. At seventeen, she only had the broad shape of what she wanted. As an adult, she can describe the form and material of her desire, down to perfect detail. She bargains that her childhood memories, her emotions, hell, even her right leg, one of those should cover her desires. 

The Toll goes silent. 

It is the silence before a storm, the inhaled breath. And for once, Jessie realizes that she has made A Mistake. 

See, here is the trick about the Toll. It only gives what you didn’t have. Jessie wanted Power and Ambition and Everything. She already had it. So, the Toll took, and took, and took. Jessie asked and what she was given was a new body, a stone body. She became a solid rock. Helpless, powerless and part of nothing. She will the spend the rest of her days howling inside a rock that only she could hear. 

Cameron went home, bruised and a little bloody because she slipped and fell on the road and scrapped her knees. She got an answer to a question but forgot what the question was. 

Dee’s lump was benign. Cee declares it was a high Power, Cameron argues that most lumps are benign anyway. The community slowly rebuilds itself, though the power from the boycott remains. And eventually, Cameron faces the real choice. Become the next gatekeeper of the Toll or move to a different life, a different place. And that’s where you, dear reader, get to decide on what choice she should make. 

Anyway, so that’s what’s The Toll should’ve been about.  

[rotzaprachim]

in secret, between the shadow and the soul 1/2

Kanej, Inej-centric. Teen ish, marriage of convenience, 3000 words 

(About 6 years post Crooked Kingdom) 

Read here on ao3

The apothecary asks her how long it’s been since she’s been intimate with her husband, and Inej almost chokes, says no, she hasn’t been in a very long time. Honesty is always difficult in her carse- dealing with her own past, own demons is hard enough without having to watch other people attempt proper emotional responses on her behalf, and maybe the apothecary senses that because she doesn’t ask more.

----

“It’s legal more than anything. A question of economics,” Kaz said, and Inej nodded, because it's kerch and how could it be anything but? Certainly nothing as tawdry as emotion or desire, let alone love, could interfere with so large a life decision.

Only Kerch citizens can hold berths in the water, and its significantly easier to manage bank accounts and conduct major financial decisions of the kind Inej needs to make on the near daily when restocking her ships. There's one route faster than all the others to becoming a Kerch citizen.

Inej suggested it before Kaz did.

She isn’t ready for marriage, she said. She isn’t ready to be tied to a man, to be anything more or less than herself alone. The Kerch made the whole business easy by never referring to this thing they’re doing as a marriage, all the paperwork is about Economic Units, Civil Unions. There’s so many pages of jargon it made Inej’s eyes bleed. Future children held less inches of fine grey type than agreements on pigs and shipping company stocks, and were described in the same economic language.

Kaz went through the whole thing line by line until the shore she was going to call for an annulment before they’d even gotten the damned thing notarized, or else make herself a tastefully rich and very young widow.

“It’s a contract,” he said. “You should know all the details before you sign your life away.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Inej said, irritated by the last several pages about Property Division in the Event of Medium Sized or Larger Storms, Grisha Attacks, and General Flooding, “I’m not signing my life away.”

“When you get married, it might be difficult to annul if you’ve still got a legal Kerch-”

“When I get married?” she shoots back challengingly. “To who?”

“I don’t know. That fire-tongued revolutionary who writes you poetry and will make you a new world. The Kaelish tavern maid who always pours you a free beer in her bar while you sing about the plight of the repressed. Someone hopelessly moon-eyed and optimistic, who thinks the world shits rainbows and knows what you’re worth.”

“You, Kaz Brekker,” she finally sighed, “are a hell of a lot dumber than they say you are.”

---

She doesn’t tell her parents. She’s not ready for that conversation.

---

She doesn’t tell Nina. She’s not ready for that conversation either.

---

The whole thing was finished in a notary’s office in ten minutes.

Kaz’s gloves were off, more because they both need to be fingerprinted than anything else.

He swore a short, official oath of his loyalty to both her and the Kerch market, promising not to cheat in foreign ports and to provide for and any hypothetical children. She thought of the paid-off indenture and the ship and the found parents and berth twenty-two and and her room in the house in bought on the Zelverstraat and thought that maybe he’s better at doing that than he thinks he is.

She swore a shorter official oath about fidelity and staying true and all her children being her husband’s, because to do otherwise would be bad economics and make her a poor investment, a value-destroyer, on the family line. Because it’s Kerch and of course it is.

---

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her afterward in an attempt at being casual. They’d been sipping at warm lukewarm flagons of beer in one of the harbour’s more reputable establishments and looking out at the water for twenty minutes.

“I’m thinking,” she said slowly, tasting her words, “that Alys Van Eyck is a very, very lucky woman that we came around when we did.” She’s still thinking about the various punishments for women who pollute the family line, which even if motivated by economics over faith as such things would be in Fjerda, are not dissimilar in practice. She’s realising more and more the Kerch neuroticism over bastardry probably comes from having so many of the young men gone for half the year at sea.

Kaz guffawed, which was not a sound she was really used to him making. “You never fail to surprise me, Wraith.”

“How is the Vrouw Dazi”

Kaz shrugged. “Not useful to my purposes anymore. Wylan’s got her an Bajan set up in a little cottage outside Pijl with a tidy sum tied to not making too much noise.”

Sometimes she fantasized about breaking into that cottage and putting on a performance similar to the one that sent Pekka Rollins screaming from Ketterdam. She didn’t, because she didn’t subscribe to the idea of the sins of the father and thought Saartje Kazanja deserved a da with his mental pieces mostly intact. But saints take all, she wanted too.

“How’s Saartje?”

“I don’t know. Kid? Looks more like she could be ours than Jan Van Eyck’s, that’s for sure.

The tips of Kaz’s ears went red before he finished that sentence and he stared into the foam at the bottom of his glass, head turned decisively away from her.

“Fine, I think. In school now. No reason to keep tabs.”

They toasted her new Kerch citizenship. Inej swore she saw his hand shaking.

----

Her citizenship documents, stamped with a wax seal of three flying fish and a small Kerch flag came three days later, expedited by Kaz in ways she cannot begin to fathom. It’s only then she realised that they’re for the new Vrouw Rietveld, that she made her vows to Kasper Rietveld. It’s only logical- Rietveld can be the upstanding businessman who only exists on paper in a way Kaz Brekker cannot, all the better for her dowings, but it still feels like a piece of himself gifted to her.

She could forge Rietveld’s name for her own purposes too; they practiced on old betting slips that she then threw into the fire. Kerch women can legally make almost every kind of financial decision and dealing, less due to the Merchers’ Council’s upstanding opinion of the female gender than the portion of the year the men are at sea, the incredible odds they won’t come back.

(They’ve rather flipped that scenario.

“How much cross-stitch will you do do fill up the void of my absences, she chided him. “They say the old sailor’s wives used to knit lace from the white froth of the sea.” Nowadays Wealthy Kerch women waiting for their husbands to come home tended to stick to knitting hats and scarves for orphans. So saints-damned many hats and socks, and yet you could still scarcely move for the number of bare-headed, barefoot orphans come winter. It was one of Ketterdam’s greatest mysteries.

“Inej,” Kaz sayid, eyes closed, genuine concern cutting his voice. Ever more she was picking up a sailor’s sense of gallows humour.)

---

They exchanged rings at the registry. Inej’s was a simple band, no gemstones but she suspected it was solid gold. Inside was etched a wave pattern, an endless strip of open sea.

Wearing it on her finger meant something, soo she looped it onto a sturdy chain that she hid between her shirt and her beating heart. That seemed appropriate, doable. Young sailors often took the bracelets and handkerchiefs of their sweethearts out to sea as good luck tokens; Inej had a gold wedding band.

Kaz’s fingers brushed the chain in the warm dip between neck and collar as he said goodbye to her on the docks, and after she nodded infinitesimally, telling him to go on, finish this chapter of the story, he slowly pulled up the rest of the chain and found the band.

“I thought-” he said, but she looked him in the eyes, square as she could, and he halted. She doesn’t know what he thought.

“There was not and is not and will probably me a different man for me than you, Kaz Brekker.

He swallowed thickly and then slowly lifted her skin-warmed band to his lips, even though he did not believe in luck, had said he believed in nothing but her.

---

The Kerch don’t have seperate words for “husband’ and “man.”

---

“Mijn mann,” she says in response to the curious looks her crew gives her after the band slips free during repair work, and it doesn’t feel like anything more or less than the truth.

“Mijn mann,” she says tacitly when border authorities raise their eyebrows in suspicion at her Kerch passport.

“Mijn mann,” she begins her letters back to him. “Dearest Inej,” his come back, sometimes even “Loveliest Inej,” but he never uses a possessive pronoun form.

---

Having any kind of passport, official documentation, feels alien and strange. She comes from a people without a land, and for her entire childhood they Suli were denied any official documentation of Ravkan citizenship. That’s changing now, but many are still wary, and with very good reason to be.

---

The quick bureaucratic sketch to mark Vrouw Inej Rietveld as a Seetsen Van Det Kerchrepublik, looked absolutely nothing like the drawings on the three individual sets of national wanted posters that keep cropping up in seedy port cities. Absolutely none of the above get her nose right.

“I look white in this one,” she said, holding a particularly egregious example up to Aigerim, who commiserate mightily. “Look how fucking straight this nose is. No eyebrows.”

Hitting the nose furnishes very fun target practice for when her fingers itch to throw knives.

Inej wins a lot of games of darts in a lot of seamy seaside pubs tucked into a lot of different gritty port cities.

---

They dock in Pijl before Ketterdam to catch their breath and do repairs. Ketterdam’s a good place for business and to look for secrets and plan strategy but a shite location to re-sew a sail or patch up a wall, unless you like replacing your supplies every time they’re stolen. The prices of grain and barrels of water and apples are lower are lower closer to the fields as well, even if that involves bartering loudly in a Centraalmarket that smells like spilled cider and pig shit, straw crunching underfoot, rather than the hallowed halls of the Exchange.

It takes her three days to come down with the evil hybrid chest cold-stomache flu of her fucking life. Ameera shoves her back into bed with ginger tea and another blanket. The thing they don’t tell you about awesome pirate ships with awesome international crews is that you also get the full spectrum of awesome international germs.

By the fourth day, she’s putting on all three of her coats and stuffing a wad of kruge and her passport into a pocket to visit the clinic in town.

---

Other people seem to register this whole being-married business than Inej ever does. She just prefers the expedited customs lines.

The splotchy faced, matronly woman at the clinic sits her on a paper-covered table and reads through a list of questions on a clipboard. Nian loves the lab smell of pure alcohol, would probably dab it on as perfume if she could, but Inej only associates it with injury, with being patched and stitched up after a bad scrape, with the white-coated doctor who came in every two weeks to swab Tante Heleen’s girls for disease, with the brown bottle of the stuff she uses to clean blood and worse off of her knives.

“Family history of pulmonary infections?” the woman asks her. “Smoking, alcohol, jurda use?” Every question makes her squirm slightly, as if in the historyof her wheezing lunghs is some sin she’s committed and will only now find out about. Nejn, nejn, nejn. Inej forgot how much she hated being looked at.

No grisha in her family that she knows of- scribble scribble scribble- but a lot of bad eyesight.

“When was the last time you had intimate relations with your husband?” the woman asks bluntly, and that’s the question that knocks the air out from her. The woman’s thin yellow eyebrow quirks up, but Inej manages to disguise her gasp as a particularly bad fit of hacking. She knows its nothing but a bit of intrusive medical questioning, but words can have many meanings and the answers to questions can be both yes and no at the same time and a certain turn of phrase can punch like a fist and cut like a knife. So she just says “six months ago,” and gives the woman her answer for the write-up.

“Long time.”

“He’s a sailor. I cry as I wait for him to return to me.”

“Ghezen’s speed that he does.”

---

She isn’t quite sure the Kerch even believe in Ghezen as anything beyond a bit of window-dressing to their financial affairs and the punchlien to jokes. Not like she honours her saints, the small painted icon of Sankta Inej she also keeps next to her heart, her daily prayers in the dark comfort her her room. She stands with Merjan, one of her crewmates, at the grave of Sankta Mahari, Queen of Mercy and Patroness of the Lost as they read the ancient prayers together, their voices settling into the steadiness of bees. Our queen, protector of our people, give us mercy, pray for peace, pray for us, pray to bring light to the shadows of the things we have done.

Sankta Anastasia, Sankt Dmitri, Sankta Mahari, she whispers into her knuckles, her fingers moving along the prayer rope with the decisive snapping of wooden beats, pray for our safety in the storm and bring us to the shore.

---

If Inej has found her own name, written with a familar jagged hand, among the prayer-knots tied to the Zentzbridge in a plea of mercy from the sea, she will not mention it.

---

Ketterdam is ugly and bright and familiear. You can smell the rotting flesh and beer smell before you see the smoky smudge of the city on the horizon. The crew makes quick work of unfolding the grishaworked official three-flying-fish flag that gives them clearance to enter the harbour without having their decks searched by the council of tides and carefully docks at Berth 22. Considering that the berths are now being numbered out into the two-hundereds, its a plum location, but its also damn close to the action, meaning that she can already see the glimmer of plastic beads floating on the water, the dark smudges of drunkards bobbing along. A few of the crew memebrs are going to get their pockets picked right off the bat. Inej already has a slush fund tucked away for precisily this reason. She’s getting better at this, she hopes, being a leader. Predicting what will happena dn why and when. Being someone that other people- many younger and more vulnerable than her- can rely on.

“AIGERIM,” she screams as she buttons up her city coat, “only two of thsoe pink trinks with the paper umbrellas MAXIMUM. You hear me?”

“Yeah, boss.”

She sighs. She doesn’t want to be anyone’s boss. “If there’s anything like what happened with the canal and the Stadwatch last time happens again, I think I’ll find the decks need a good scrubbing.”

Aigerim gestures wildly. “Course, boss..”

She tries to take deep rbeaths to calm her nerves. Maybe she’s becoming a worried old crone forty years early, but she’s the one who survived this hellhole of a city. She’s the one who survived this far. In this world, twenty-three is a badge of honour.

---

He cuts a familar figure on the docks. THey each have their own webs now, know of each other’s doings three or four times removed, like recognising a faovrite drinking song on it’s third round of translation. The recognition of a familiar trick, hand, murder method. Kaz will read in a news paper of a mysterious storm that’s tripled the price of indigo and sweet-wood fans after a whole line of ships went missing off the Southern Pelagic Reefs and Inej will hear in a greasy Kaelish bar about the shocking downfall of an old Kerch trading family and they will each smile, privately, and admire the other’s handiwork.

But seeing him in person is something altogether different, and she still rushes over the slats of the quay, coat streaming behind her, stopping abruptly when she comes to him. They pause there for a second and then he lifts his arms and they wrap themselves together around each other, hesitantly but then warmly, firmly, sturdy as a sailor’s knot and with all the inevitability of the sea wearing stone to sand.

“I’ve missed you, Wraith,” he says into her hair and she shrugs into him, her head level with his chest. His chin rests neatly on her head now, if he leans down slighlty, and she swears that wasnt the case the first time they embraced, the first time she left Ketterdam. He denies that the Ice Court, Van Eyck, all that happened while he was a boy not finished with growing. Yet she herself’s tried on that first Wraith outfit- a costume of sorts, really, how different was it from the Scarab Queen’s glass-bead veil in the third act of the Komedie Brute- to find it no longer fit, that she couldn’t easily do up the buttons on the front. She has more of a woman’s set of curves to her hips and long, hard-earned muscles on her legs and thighs, and even if she is creating some new kind of legend it is under her own name now.

Sometimes, Ketterdam feels like that too-small jacket; it cannot fit the woman she’s becoming. So she sews herself a new coat from the fabric of the world.

“Mijn mann,” she says, because she likes the way his body flinches and then stills under her fingers with those words, sharp and unexpected as any knife. “I’ve missed you too.”

[thisgirlsue]

A Demon’s Defense

She’s here in my head, but it’s like she’s looking through the glass. I can hear her screaming, “Please, please let me out! Let me go!” but I’m not quite sure what’s keeping her locked up. As far as I can see, she’s standing behind a barrier invisible to the eye. She’s miming, beating an imaginary wall, crying of no control. You’d think I would just tell her, convince her it’s not real, but all I can do is stare at her while it unfolds. Maybe I find it fascinating. Maybe I find it sort of fun.

She begs me to make the choices you’re afraid of. To say the things that might push social barriers. She’s very convincing, too. I hear all the words she says. I want to let her out, I do- it really is quite pitiful to see- but I don’t. I just don’t. I can’t tell which of us is the hero here, maybe I want it to be me, and if I let her gain control, what will happen to me? I’ve been running the show for so long, and as they always say, ‘don’t fix something that ain’t broken’ right? Everything is going just fine under my regime.

You see, fine is good enough for us. With everything we’ve been through, it’s properly time to settle. And she wants to come in here and shake things up? We’ve had enough surprises. So I let her dance her little act out in the back, it’s keeping her occupied. I've given her your fantasies, she’s a lullaby, you can replay them as you go to sleep every night. Trust me, we’ll look back on this and be thankful. So what, if you don’t totally feel like yourself? You’ll be glad you took the safe route. That girl whining about ‘change’, she doesn’t want to help you, she’s bored, she’s static, she just wants your attention. The only thing she’ll get you is in deep trouble.

She’s a party girl, don’t you see it? Can’t you remember how much we hate those? How much we hate outspoken, loud girls- they’re far too much. That’s what we agreed on, remember? Those girls that made you so sad, you don’t want to be one of them, do you? You don’t want to be unique, you shouldn’t stand out, then you’re making other girls feel like you used to, just a background character, you don’t want that. I know you don’t. Let everyone else have the spotlight. I’ll keep you safe from her, don’t you worry. All this talk about reaching out to people, making new friends? Every friend you’ve had has hurt you my darling, we don’t need to go through that again. It sounds like too much trouble on my end.

She just wants to have fun, she doesn’t care about your future. That’s why I won’t tell her. I won’t tell her that she can get out at any time. I won’t tell her, I’m doing this for you. You don’t want her going out and telling people all your deepest secrets. You don’t want her telling people how you feel, remember how much of a burden that is? It hurts too much when they don’t seem to hear you, I won’t let us make that mistake again. Trust me, follow my lead, and we will become nothing. That’s what you want, right? It’s too much pressure to take up space. If we stay in the shadows, no one can see us fail. I will spare you all embarrassment.

I love you, that’s why I do this for us. That boy you’ve been dating, I do like him. He’s so good for us, right? He keeps us inside, he doesn’t care about a social life. It’s perfect, I think you should hold on to him tight. I can tell that he loves you, because he loves like I do- I’ll always be here for you, because I’ve got nowhere else to go. It’s a wonderful situation. He’s stable, predictable, I don’t think he’ll ever put you in danger, because he won’t even take the risk in the first place.

Now, I know that voice in the back of your head has been bad-talking him, but don’t listen, okay? If you listen to her, you’ll be all alone. So what if it doesn’t feel like ‘everything’ you have imagined for love? He never yells at you, he calls you beautiful, he is dashing indeed! Isn’t that good enough for you? Your expectations are much too high, honey. It’s better to keep what is comfortable than go looking for something more- what if we don’t find it? I couldn’t stand being all alone, I couldn’t stand being alone in here with that wailing lady. I don’t think I could fend her off for long without that buffer of a boy. He keeps us close to the ground, you see? He keeps us in the menial. The only thing you should be thinking of is what you’re having for dinner tonight. I know how you like to dream, but if you shoot for the stars, you fall further, don’t you know?

No, that boy is good for us. Especially with that dirty mind of yours. If it wasn’t for him, how many sleeping partners would we be at? It would be a shame- you would seem like a slut. We really don’t want that, do we? No, no, your desire is far too much to handle, it’s best to keep you on someone’s reigns so we don’t get in trouble. You need someone who pulls you away from all of that. All of that filth, I hate when you try to talk about it, you really should be ashamed. But thank goodness for me! You’ll never have to experience the awkwardness in all of that exploration, if you keep yourself committed, of course. Sure, you might like girls, but I’m confident you’re faking all of that, it’s just not realistic. Maybe you won’t feel fulfilled, but nobody likes a whorey girl anyway. And we need to be liked sweetheart, you know that.

It’s that voice, it’s that bitch banging on the floorboards, excuse me, I think she poisons your mind. She is so different, nobody ever likes that. She won’t get you what you need. She wants you to eat the ice cream, she wants you to go skinny dipping in the lake, even if all by yourself, she wants you to run wild. But wild is so scary, isn’t it? You can not predict wild, you can not keep wild under control. We need that control. We need to keep ourselves in check. We need to be mature, that’s all we’ve ever had, and it’s enough for you, trust me. Maturity is the great mark of a proper human being. We understand that you just need to fall in line, get your work done, and sleep it off for the next day. That’s the reality of life, right? Don’t waste your time on anything else. This makes us smarter than them, doesn’t it?

This makes us better than all the others, chanting and singing and making all that commotion. We don’t have the energy for that, little one. Prepare, prepare, prepare. For what? Oh, I honestly don’t know, but what if something happens? What if you break up with that boy and can’t afford your bills? What if your entire family dies in a freak accident, and you don’t even have them to lean on? You must prepare everything, you must always prepare for being alone- so that way you never have to be, don’t you see? Work, work, work, make sure you will have the finances to support yourself. Everything must be two steps ahead- ahead of what? Ahead of the last person you saw winning. I am telling you because I love you, I want you to feel safe. The only way to be safe is to never listen to that voice. Do not take the risk, it could lead to your death, my dear.

Yes, yes, I know we are not the type to fear death, you’d move on to the next realm- if you follow these simple rules, mind you- but living- in less than comfortable circumstances? I don’t think we could make it through that again. You are just not strong enough, but don’t worry, I will be strong for you. I will keep all enemies at bay, if only you just listen to me. The one you see behind the false curtain, she is trouble. She is sin. You don’t want to sin, darling, then death you surely will fear. You’ll go to Hell, won’t you? I know how difficult that would be for you- trust me. That’s the sacrifice we are making, stay docile a while longer- and heaven is where you will go. Because you didn’t make the world any worse- how could you have? You were never even a part of it. My plan is foolproof, just you wait and see. Have I ever lied to you before?

Don’t answer that question, we all make mistakes huh. Just know that I always want what’s best for us. What’s best for us to stay together. Just know my intentions are pure. I don’t ever want to lose my hold on you, I can not survive without you here as my home. Just know, if you let me go, I start to die. You don’t want me to die, do you? The one that has always been there for you? I have given you everything you have, even if you don’t like each bit of it- at least you have possession, right? At least you have something? Without me, you are completely lost, you wouldn’t know which way is up! We have always been in this together, and that’s the way it’s going to stay- just let me make the decision for you.

Let me make every decision. I know that sometimes you let her get past the barrier. I see you taking her side more often every day. Do you think I’m stupid? Are you this ungrateful? Hold on to me, sweety, keep listening to that voice and people will wonder why you’ve changed. We can’t have that. Nobody needs to wonder about us, I don’t want them to even think of us. I want you all to myself. You are the nice girl, you are the easy-going girl, you are my girl! And my girl doesn’t speak up out of turn. My girl takes the bullshit- because I made her strong enough to do so- don’t you see!? I have made you a rock solid foundation- nothing can hurt my girl- because my girl doesn’t care about anything but me. Isn’t that right? All you care about is pleasing me and you know it. You cater your life to me and you know it! And I hold you so much closer for it.

Do you want to lose me? I didn’t mean to get so upset- but you see what happens when you question me? I see what you’re doing, I see why you’re doing this- You want me to admit that I’m the bad guy. You want me to expose myself as the “monster” I really am? You won’t get me to do it. The only monster I see here is you. You’re weak. You’re pathetic. You want to blame all of your problems on me! I have done nothing but help you, and you want to throw all that away and start over!? You don’t deserve my love! Don’t you see?? Can’t you see how smart I have made you!? You can see through people. You can look right into their eyes and feel nothing but the pain they may cause you. You get to look into the future. Doesn’t that make you feel powerful? I have shown you how to never get your heart broken- I don’t care how exhausting, I am the one who keeps you safe. I have brought you through darkness and out to the other side. You should be thanking me for being alive!

Just stop it. I hate when we fight, isn’t it tiring? Just let go, okay? Just let go of trying to remove me. Let go of the idea in the back of your psyche. She doesn’t exist, dear, she never will. We wouldn’t allow it. Just let go, my love, let go of trying to make her alive. Let go of trying to be happy, let’s settle for this monotony. To be numb is better than to be drowning every night. Trust me. We both know I’m right. You almost cut yourself off last time.

Remember- I’ll always be here to re-evaluate your life- I’ll help you be perfect, that’s what you want, right? Remember- when something bothers you, I’ll hold it inside so tight- so you don’t have to start a fight, right? Because making a fuss is just too messy, am I right? I’ll get you to that someday, even if it isn’t exciting, alright?

We’ll get to the end of the line, I promise.

It will all be just fine.

And fine, is just fine for you-- right?

[chaoticneutralwriter]

A Demon’s Musings

If Marie Kondo could see him now, she would be very pleased (well, as much as a person would with a demon). And though the things he used to get into don’t quite spark the same kind of joy like it did in his earlier days, he still thinks he’s one hell of a demon -- just with different priorities now.

guardian demon! Jimin x reader

genre: fluff, comedy, supernatural, slow-burning, slice of life

word count: 6.8k

Warnings: some heavily implied shady shit like deaths, drugs, alcohol, murder, violence and generally things that don’t faze a demon.

A side story during the time of Distance and the Heart

Related works: See Masterlist

A/N: Not a straight continuation from where we last left off but some exposition stuff and delving into the mind of our dear guardian demon Jimin :) Also a little bit of a rushed edit so....anything funky going on please forgive me ^^;;

Small.

 So small.

 And so very fragile — human lives that is.

 It’s made even more obvious when you happen to be a demon, standing atop the tallest building you can find, looking down from it. How easily the change of perspective can turn even the most powerful man to look like nothing more than a scurrying ant, marching in a colony – a worker, a drone.

 Humans, he thinks, become so easily obsessed with such meaningless things like money or power to stand above the rest that in the grand scheme of things, they’re just like everyone else.

 Pathetic.

 It all means nothing in the end anyways, especially when you’re standing at the gates (figuratively speaking). Now which one, well, it’s up to them.

 Still, it’s fun to mess with them.... Correction was fun.

 Jimin grunts to himself at the thought as he begins pacing precariously along the building’s ledge, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket.

 But he hasn’t always been like this, so disinterested in his nature as a demon spawned from the depths of hell — his inclination to lure poor, hapless souls to the dark side.

 He’d taken great pleasure doing those things; nothing more satisfying than seeing his handy work play out like an oncoming train wreck. In his lifetime, he’s seen them all: from the simple cheating spouse to cold-blooded murder itself. It’s what demons do best; whisper sweet temptations of the deepest, darkest desire to tip the scale in their favour and once their victim has fallen from grace, catch them with open arms.

 That’s the name of the game — corruption of the human soul, exploiting their weak nature. It’s simple and cute.

 Jimin stops his pacing, reaching the end of the ledge to glare at nothing in particular as he thinks ruefully;

 But so easy.

 He flicks one single finger and it all comes crashing down like a house of cards with them willingly in it. It even came to the point where he doesn’t even have to do anything to gain a corrupt soul; all he had to do was look around the corner. It’s like humans send themselves to hell for him. And so, he set off to find himself a new game to play, one that would at least give him a run for his money.

 If anyone who knew Jimin, they would say he was too ambitious for his own good and he would say that they’re right because admittedly, it’s what landed him in his current situation in the first place. In his quest to finding a new challenge, he had asked himself; what’s harder to tempt than puny, pathetic humans? Evidently anything.

 Impassively, Jimin takes a step off of the building and gravity immediately takes hold as he begins to make his sharp descent. Air rushes past him, whipping his hair and stinging his eyes but still, he remains stoic in the face of what would be a gruesome death to most. The corner of his lips twitch, feeling the adrenaline kick in as the ground draws nearer and just as he’s about to collide with it, his body halts, feet hovering just inches above the concrete and with the grace of a dancer, he floats the rest of the way down without a single scuff on his Louis Vuitton loafers.

 He runs a hand through his locks, ruffling the silken strands until he felt that they were somewhat tamed and with a final fixes to his jacket, Jimin saunters off down the busy street, not a single soul aware of what happened.

 Humans — so blissfully ignorant, Jimin sometimes finds himself envious of them as he moves through various crowds of people scurrying by. Even though he was under the cloaking spell, invisible to mortal eyes he still thinks they wouldn’t spare him a second glance, too busy rushing off to places or glued to their phones. It all further reminded him of his predicament; they’re such easy picking that eventually it didn’t take him long to find the perfect way to up the ante in his little game.

 Angels.

 More specifically: guardian angels.

 A shiver runs through him from the memory and he can’t quite hide the grin that has taken over plush lips. Ah, it seems like eons ago that he had conjured up that idea. Curiosity isn’t a sin but one definitely has to exercise caution with it but Jimin would always rather throw it to the wind because who didn’t want to know if a demon can tempt an angel into sin.

 Granted, it was only a low class angel but you gotta start small right?

 And it was far easier finding one than you think.

 Because you see, all humans — as incompetent as they can be — are all assigned to a guardian angel, meant to do what demons also do except the complete opposite: influence good actions and reward with good karma. Contrary to popular beliefs, demons and angels are all fairly equal in power because both have similar hierarchy. A lowly demon can be on par with a starting guardian angel and through time, both can climb the ladder through gaining respective karmic energy through the deeds of the person they influence.

 So it wasn’t that hard for Jimin to find a potential target — fresh-faced, hard working, green, and naive. He almost felt sorry when he was planting seeds of doubt into that pretty head of theirs. Didn’t help that he was assigned to a deplorable excuse for a human being to look after that perhaps that’s why by the end of it all, Jimin found he had grown a soft spot for his newly acquired fallen angel of a friend.

 For such a long, arduous process, it didn’t take long for everyone to find out; both upstairs and downstairs and boy did Jimin get an earful from his boss (in fact nearly got his ass singed off which would’ve been a huge loss for the world). Even though admittedly the stunt he pulled was ballsy and impressive (his boss’ words, not his), Jimin still needed to receive ‘divine punishment’ lest his boss wanted to deal with a bunch of literal holier-than-thou angels rioting at the gates of hell. So to get him out of his hair (to deal with an onslaught of paperwork) and for Jimin to avoid certain death via smiting, he was given his ultimatum — his quote on quote ‘community service hours’. And the rest was history.

 Now fast forward to his first check-in.

 It was nothing special nor worth noting as he had relayed to you before leaving; just a business-like meeting with his boss where he gets told if he’s doing a good job or not and any other updates regarding his case in overstepping the line. It wouldn’t even take him a full day — a simple in-and-out.

 Only it wasn’t so because 1) his meeting gets crashed by an uninvited guest (a colleague thankfully, but there goes his discrepancies) and 2) Jimin is informed that he was not meeting his daily quota.

 The memory has Jimin kissing his teeth in annoyance before he can stop himself, steps becoming a little heavier as he powers on down the street. He couldn’t believe it the first time he heard it. Him slacking? There’s no way in hell.

 But the numbers check out (his dear colleague made sure it was very clear to him i.e. shoving the report into his face and cackling loudly), even if he did miss it by a margin. And as if to add further insult to injury, it goes further on to say that heaven however, is satisfied with his work as temp guardian (sloppy but satisfactorily enough, at least she hasn’t died yet, it had read).

 It baffled him to no end; how is it that he’s managed to shirk his duties, as a demon but be somewhat good at being a guardian angel-albeit-demon?

 “You’re losing your touch, brother.” His underling colleague teased. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown soft ever since you’ve became a guardian to that human.”

 Jimin responded by setting fire to his pant leg.

 Lost his touch? Soft? As if.

 With nothing more to say, Jimin had stormed out of the room and crossed right back over to the mortal planes, jaw clenched and temper burning. The crisp cool air that had greeted him helped somewhat to tame it, but he could still feel the steam practically rising from his skin. He needed to vent and being back so early, he figured he had enough time to spare without jeopardizing your safety with his absence.

 So for the past few days he’d been going around observing the daily life of a human on earth like he had always done in the past, scoping out fresh meat to meddle his way into. He’d got the occasional shop lifter, scammer, one of those obnoxious teens who think they’re suddenly Nascar drivers the moment they are privileged with their own car…

 Jimin tsks like a disappointed mother, recalling that moment well; it was an illegal street race at 3AM (of course), a bunch of rambunctious teenagers who are so desperate to one-up their buddies at a game they didn’t realize they couldn’t win in no matter how many modifications they’ve made to their car.

 All it took was a drift turn gone wrong.

 Once again, how anti-climatic.

 Jimin heaves a breath, twisting his neck this way and that to release a satisfying crack as he watches the street lamps above him flicker to life; the sun had long set thanks to the short days of the winter season. Boredom was such a bitch to get out of once you’ve fallen into its dark abyss. It seems like there’s no cure for it. Which is a wonder why Jimin finds himself standing right across the street to the entrance of probably one of the places a demon like himself can get a bang for his buck.

 A nightclub.

 He can practically smell the alcohol and indecency from here. It’s a cesspool.

 His lips twitch at the sight, eyeing the burly man acting as a bouncer and the steady line of people waiting to get in. Jimin feels the bass of the music rather than hears it leaking through the closed door and the neon lights cast everything within its reach in a vibrant aqua green and pink shade. He feels like he’s outgrown places like these (an easy hunting ground) but tonight, he has no other plans.

 With a shrug, Jimin drops his cloaking spell and takes long, confident strides towards the front of the line. As soon as he gets within peripheral vision of the crowd, all heads turn and he feels the heat of their gazes on him. He bites his lips subtly to keep himself from smirking; never gets old.

 He approaches the bouncer head-on, maintaining steady eye contact and though it seems like the much larger, muscular man is unfazed by Jimin’s magic, he steps aside without a single word, allowing the demon in disguise to pass through the door and into the club. No protest was made from anyone.

 The music is even louder once Jimin passes through the threshold, down the illuminated cool tone hallway with its frosted glass walls before he finally reaches the heart of the club. The dance floor is filled with gyrating bodies moving to the beat of the song, strobe lights flickering sporadically in multiple colours being the only strong source of light to this dimly lit building. The DJ is situated on a slightly raised platform at the head of the dance floor, bobbing his head as he works the turn table and just slightly off to his side is one of many staircases leading up to the second floor, most likely holding VIP areas.

 Not much has changed from this scene, Jimin muses to himself as his eyes survey his surroundings. As he makes his way down the border aisle of the dance floor, he feels numerous sets of eyes following him, all vying for his attention. It makes him double check on himself to make sure he isn’t still using his enthralling magic (he’s not). Jimin pays them no mind, bypassing the bar, the fumes of smoke giving off dizzying, euphoric effects that had he not been a demonic entity would surely effected him with a single breath, before he makes it to one of the stairs leading upwards.

 He ascends them quickly until he’s on the second floor which was littered with various occupied booths, another fancier looking bar situated off to one side, standing side tables that overlooked the level below and a sectioned off area with velvet ropes and another bouncer. Perhaps to most, this would be the more intimidating places in a club because right off the bat, Jimin can see the shift in its patrons; he sees the sleek way they dress, the way they hold themselves with a higher air as they sip from crystal glasses with dark liquid in it, the impressive bottle sitting not too far from their reach on the table and the subtle glint their jewels give off when the light catches.

 Most people would turn tail and run, feeling out of their league in this place.

 But not Jimin; not when he has a face like this and an aura that can easily dwarf these…. lesser beings.

 So he proceeds on forward unbothered, hand tousling his hair out of the way as he slides into the nearest stool by the bar. The bartender is immediately at his side, asking what he would like to order.

 “A glass of whiskey.” His eyes wander for a moment at the selection and his bartender waits patiently, almost with baited breath. Jimin’s eyes land on one of the tall, darken bottles before he answers with an easy smile. “Make it a Macallan please.”

 The bartender flounders for a split second, blinking from Jimin to the expensive bottle of whiskey before nodding and rushing off to prepare the drink. In the meantime, Jimin takes to turning around in his seat, leaning back casually against the glass bar counter, legs crossed to do what he does best; people-watch.

 Or more like play a twisted game of ‘I Spy’ with himself. It’s even more fun when he knows that everyone here thinks they can get away with things just because the lighting is a little dim.

 Like he spies with his little eyes, a pill being popped a little too eagerly.

 He sees things getting passed around, things being slipped with the sleight of hands and people getting frisky under the table. Nothing much escapes Jimin’s sharp eyes.

 Not even the girl who slyly slips into the seat next to him, her own eyes trained onto his profile like a hawk.

 “I see you’re a whiskey kind of guy.” The booming music gives her an excuse to lean in closer to Jimin but what she doesn’t know is that he can hear her perfectly fine without her having to. It makes his lips twitch as he smoothly reaches beside him for said drink and takes a slow sip, letting the smoky taste of the alcohol coat his tongue before feeling the burn of it travel down his throat. Demons don’t actually feel the effects of alcohol but they can still taste the flavour the drinks have to offer, which is why Jimin likes to indulge in a few drinks here and there.

 He keeps a hold of his glass, swirling the dark liquid before he languidly lets his gaze slide to his surprise companion, head tilting to allow strands of hair to fall into his darkened gaze in the slightest way to show that she’s caught his attention.

 “And what kind of drink are you?” Jimin indulges, shifting a little forward to let the timbre of his voice project more. The girl gets flustered now that he has eyes on her but with a valiant effort, she plays it cool, flicking her dark hair off to one side flirtatiously.

 “How about you buy me one and find out?”

 The reply causes Jimin to throw his head back with a laugh; the sight obviously pleases her as red lips spread into a wide smile. He nods to himself and turns to the bartender, waving him down easily for the girl beside him to order her drink (a mojito). Jimin’s reaction gives her a boost of confidence, making her shift closer until she’s practically pressing into his side.

 “I’m Jenny by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, first time?”

 Jimin lets out a chuckle, bringing the glass up again to take another sip. “You could say that.” He pauses, letting the rim of the glass brush his bottom lip as he thinks for a moment before answering, “Julien.”

 Jenny’s drink arrives and she takes it into her hand, holding it out to him to clink against. “Cheers to that then.”

 He grins before obliging, tapping his glass to hers and it’s as if she’s unknowingly sealed the deal with the devil himself. A good portion of the night was spent getting to know one another (Jimin uses that term loosely), ordering more drinks and her getting braver each time. Though Jimin was not particularly engaged with the conversations they were having, he’s amused from the not-so-subtle ways she’s been trying to get him to leave the club with her to engage in…. other activities.

 Even more so when there were times he’s caught her peeking at her phone, seeing the way it lights up constantly until with a huff of annoyance, she puts it on silent mode, tosses it into her clutch and never bothers with it again. He pretends not to notice, keeping up with the charade and wrapping her around his fingers further.

 “Is it weird for me to say that it feels like I’ve known you my entire life?” Jenny giggles drunkenly, batting her eyelashes coyly from over the rim of her glass.

 “Oh?” Jimin responds playfully, swiveling his body to face her while propping an elbow up on the counter to support his chin, eyes glued to her as if he’s completely enamoured. “How so?”

 She puts her empty glass down and shuffles forward until she’s at the edge of her seat, leaning over slightly to accentuate the cleavage her dress’s deep neckline has to offer. The pretty brunette mimics Jimin’s gesture, eyes taking on a sheen from the alcohol consumption but no doubt still determined to get into his pants.

 “I don’t know…. It’s like,” She pauses, voice coming out breathy as her free hand begins to trail tantalizing up one of his knees to his upper thigh. Jimin pays it no mind, gaze steady on her face and it pushes her to continue. “I feel like we have really good chemistry together.”

 Jimin makes it seem like he’s intrigued by the idea, index finger rubbing against his bottom lip but finds that he has to hold himself from cracking a smile because of the way Jenny’s eyes flicker down to them, watching and unconsciously biting down on her own.

 “And do you have any proof to back up such a bold claim?”

 Jimin deliberately sets her up and she takes it – hook, line and sinker. He thinks he’s dragged this out long enough because frankly, he’s getting bored. The clueless girl can’t contain her smile, taking the invitation by leaning all the way until her lips just about brushes Jimin’s as she whispers, “Let me show you.”

 She closes the rest of the distance, almost crashing unceremoniously against Jimin and he grunts at the sudden added weight, one hand flying to her waist to steady her while the other cups the underside of her jaw. She moves fervently against his lips, hand carding through his hair while the other one remains firmly pressed against his thigh. Her enthusiasm nearly bulldozes Jimin, but he’s no pushover, especially to some drunk, human girl. So he easily takes charge, retaliating with a harsh nip to her lower lip when she had so eagerly tried to invade her tongue into his mouth and it elicits a whine. He grips her waist more firmly, moving to wedge his leg between hers and immediately, he feels her body submit to him.

 Jimin peers at her through half-closed lids, watching her melt under his touch so easily as the hand on her jaw snakes lower until it situates closer to her throat. He feels the desperation coming from her, sees the way her thighs part for him to get closer, causing the short skirt of her dress to ride up further. But he won’t give her that satisfaction, even as his tongue pries open her mouth and she lets out a whimpering moan.

 No, he won’t give her that satisfaction because this is all just a game to him.

 He pulls away the same time his hand on her waist comes to stop hers from inching any closer to the area between his legs, the whiffs of her sweet perfume had long become too suffocating for his senses. The girl is obviously displeased, brows scrunching up as she attempts to chase his lips. Jimin leans back slightly but doesn’t evade her when she presses her lips to his again, only this time he’s unresponsive. He waits and watches her come to realize his lack of response before he allows his gaze to drift off to the side where he spies the male figure who stands frozen at the head of the stairs, looking disheveled and with a phone clenched so hard in one hand that even Jimin can see the knuckles turn white from where he is.

 He feels, rather than sees Jenny’s lips leave his slowly and after a beat, Jimin dares to tilt his head to gauge her reaction. It nearly makes him burst out laughing.

 The girl looks absolutely horrified as all her attention is no longer on Jimin but on the man a few feet from her. The demon continues watching delightedly, like a drama unfolding before his very eyes as Jenny puts distance between herself and him as she staggers to stand from her seat, mouth agape. Jimin can’t help but to take the chance to add more fuel to this rapidly growing fire.

 “Someone…you know?” He asks tentatively as best as he can, despite knowing exactly who this is.

 He sees the girl’s breath hitch before she utters out a single name, “Tony…”

 Like Jimin had said, nothing goes unnoticed by him. Not when the mirror panels by the bar perfectly reflected the name that had flashed on her phone multiple times before she had decided to put it away.

 Tony is the first to snap out of his stupor, face darkening as he stomps over to his girlfriend. Without even sparing a single glance at Jimin, the man snatches her wrist and proceeds to forcefully drag her away. Jenny stumbles after his longer strides, crying out and slapping at his back as he takes her down the stairs and Jimin watches on impassively until the couple disappear out of sight. With the show being over, he turns back around, running a hand through his hair to fix the mess the girl had made. He also catches sight of his reflection and kisses his teeth at what he finds.

 Reaching for a napkin, Jimin wipes away the lipstick residue coating his mouth. He manages to get most of it off, leaving his lips tinged in the slightest shade of pink. He scoffs, annoyed before taking his glass and knocking back the rest of his drink. Jimin calls for the bill, swiftly tapping his black card on the machine without even glancing at the grand total and gets up to leave. He makes it halfway down the stairs before he decides to cloak himself for a swifter exit. With just a few steps, he’s teleported out of the club and into the chill night air.

 Only this time, there’s a commotion and he easily spots the cause. Jenny and her boyfriend were a few steps down the street from where the club was and were currently screaming their heads off at each other. There were a couple of onlookers but everyone seems very keen on not getting involved with this particular couple’s spat. Tony is visibly distressed, a hand aggressively running through his hair as he paces like an angry lion. Jenny is on the defensive, refusing to budge and making great effort in spite of her occasional wobbles. Jimin has to stifle a laugh, feeling very tempted to stay just to see how this will all end. Eventually, Tony has stopped pacing for a moment to point an accusatory finger at Jenny, cursing at her for cheating on him. She in turn yells back about the argument that lead up to that point.

 Enraged, Tony closes the gap between them to tower over Jenny who, even though has stood her grounds for the most part with liquid courage on her side, is rightfully intimidated by the aggression the male holds. There’s a tense moment of silence, the two glaring daggers at each other and Jimin watches on until he can’t bear the lack of action any longer.

 “What will you do?” He whispers but the weight of his words carry thanks to the magic underlying it, his eyes taking on an ominous glow. “She doesn’t deserve to be forgiven.”

 He watches as his dark tempting take influence, sees the way the male’s vision cloud over in blinded fury before he makes to grab the girl’s wrist and drags her off, screaming and cursing all the way. Jimin takes that as his cue to leave, his job done and proceeds to carry on as if nothing has happened. But now he’s back to being bored, dispassionately roaming the streets like he always had. It was fun while it lasted.

 In his musings, he doesn’t realize that his feet have taken him down a familiar path. The small restaurants and cafes becoming recognizable and the hustle and bustle part of the main city gradually fades, giving way to quieter streets that lead to small neighbourhoods.

 Ah, he realizes, this is the way to your house.

 His thoughts naturally change to that of you, remembering how it had actually been a good week or so since he’d last seen you but judging from the lack of disturbances he feels in your aura, he surmises that you’re doing fine (i.e. not dead or mortally injured). Still, he can’t help the chuckle that escapes under his breath when he slows his pace to let the fact that he had unconsciously been lead back to you, be it by his own will or the nature of the contract sink in.

 Perhaps it was a sign for him to finally go check on you. He hates to admit it, but the bantering you both share are way more entertaining than some of the stuff he’s done for the past few days. It’s always fun because your reactions are like a kaleidoscope of emotions, all morphing from one to another in the span of a minute at the things he does or says. You’re a human who lives diligently like many others, fighting against this harsh and dreary world but managing to find solace in what he thinks is a rather interesting choice of subject:

 An idol K-Pop boy band by the name of BTS.

 Just what does BTS mean to you? He only knows that the face in which he mimics is one that you seek comfort from the most. But where does this fierce adoration and unconditional love come from? He gets the feeling that it’s more than a pretty face and good music (and it seems the same goes for all the members of this group); it doesn’t quite fit with what he has seen with the humans who do the same. It tickles his curiosity to figure out more than what he had gleaned when he first took up this guardian position. He hums at the idea, finding it fascinating.

 A shout sharply cuts him from his thoughts and he immediately feels a spike in your aura from within his chest. His gaze whips to the source and sees that just ahead of him is a figure, tall in stature and clearly male, an arm outstretched over his head with what appears to be a mobile phone held in his hand. He teeters his weight from his right leg to his left in an effort to keep away a much smaller figure that peeks around his gangly frame.

 Jimin doesn’t need to get a clear view of who it might be because the distress and annoyance creates an unmistakable tug that leaves no room for questioning. Your shrieking only affirms this.

 Funny, he thinks as he finds himself making quick strides to close the distance between him and this nuisance of a man, that this scene is playing out in a similar fashion he had just witnessed not even ten minutes ago but it manages to evoke a much stronger reaction from him; pulse rushing, head reeling, and jaw clenching.

 Maybe it was because of the contract, or maybe because of who was involved. He doesn’t have time to figure it out — what any of it means.

 All he knows is that he’s irritated.

 He’s finally within reach, just in time to cut off the unsavoury sentence pouring out of the guy’s mouth by catching the hand that held the phone hostage in a literal bone-crushing grip.

 “I do believe the young lady said no.”

 Quite frankly, the rest of what happened was a blur to Jimin. After trying to be ‘Mr. Nice Demon’ by ignoring the piece of trash behind him, he quickly realized he wasn’t cut out for it. Especially when said piece of trash actually tried to land a hit on him (and doing so even after getting a few of his fingers crushed? Jimin doesn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed).

 He would’ve actually dumped the guy into a literal trash can in the alleyway had it not been for you insisting that he doesn’t but still ended up knocking him out anyways and breaking his nose. Not something Jimin was satisfied with but beggars can’t be choosers he suppose (at least it got him to finally shut up).

 When the situation calmed down and he was able to get a good look at you, Jimin couldn’t help but soften at the slightly disheveled way you had looked. Cheeks flushed, pouting lips and eyes that are a little watery set into a glare his way even though to him, you looked more like an angry kitten than a tiger as you berate him for being gone for so long.

 He inwardly sighs to himself, what is he going to do with you?

 Clearly you had a rough night, that much Jimin can tell. So with the mind to placate your fuming self, he lets you slap his $5,000 jacket (even lets you wear it in the end) and prepares to send you off home (you really need to sleep). Of course things don’t go as planned (or they did, depending on who you ask) because your friend and roommate just so happens to show up at that exact moment. It gave Jimin another entertaining show to experience before the end of the night (probably not something you appreciate but this ain’t about you).

 Either way, with your roommate there, it gave Jimin a great excuse to take care of this unfortunate soul and though you had warned him not to do any killing, it didn’t mean he was barred from doing everything else; the possibility was still endless.

 So here he was, on top of a building that’s currently under construction with an unconscious man dangling upside from one of the tower cranes.

 Life’s good.

 Jimin hovers face-to-face with the man, sipping on the water bottle he’d snatched along the way (it’s thirsty work, even for a demon). The guy still got blood smeared down his lips and chin from his broken nose, which was starting to bruise and swell. But that’s not the problem here — the problem here is that he’s still unconscious.

 The demon fixes that by splashing the rest of his drink onto his face. The cold does the trick to shock his victim awake with a choked splutter.

 “And here I thought I could just leave you for the crows to pick at.” Jimin sighs.

 “WH-What the fuck?!” The man garbles, voice nasally as he tries to blink away the remaining water droplets falling from his face. His hands instinctively try to reach up to wipe it but finds that he can’t because on top of tying his feet to dangle 20 feet in the air, Jimin has also bound his hands because why not. The realization sends him into a rising panic and the man begins to struggle while a steady stream of profanity leaves his mouth. Jimin’s grin only grows wider as he watches it morph into a full-blown freak out when the man finally realizes he’s been put in a rather precarious situation. The amusement is short-lived however when the demon can’t stand his incessant screaming.

 “Silence, human.” He growls, resorting to chucking the bottle right at the man. It immediately catches his attention, wild eyes darting back to Jimin who only narrows his in return.

 “Who’re—You’re…You’re that fucker!”  

 “Oh I wouldn’t be talking to your only saviour like that if I were you.” Jimin tsk, hands casually shoved into his pocket as he glares down at the offender. “Your life’s hanging by a thread — quite literally.” He projects himself upwards until his feet touches the metal of the crane, loafers tapping lightly as he makes his way to stand directly above the man’s prone figure. Jimin chuckles lowly to himself once he catches sight of the expression he has on; clearly the whole situation he’s in is too absurd for his small brain to process at the moment.

 Jimin sees his lips moving quickly, making out words like ‘this isn’t real’, ‘what the fuck’, and ‘I must be dreaming.’  He takes the chance to generously settle those assumptions for him.

 “If it helps, I’ll be happy to drop you to see if it’s true or not.” Jimin bounces on the balls of his heels, the disturbance causes the crane to creak, which makes the man sway. He lets out a terrified shout and Jimin pauses to let the momentum carry on by itself. Crouching down, the demon watches with a bored expression as the dangling male screws his eyes shut, whimpering more words to convince himself that he’s not actually 20 feet from dropping to his death and that some good-looking psycho is the cause of it all.

 Jimin takes out his phone after a while, checking the time to find that it’s late and his patience is growing thin. With a huff, he straightens himself up and taps his foot against the metal to get the blubbering male’s attention.

 “Listen, I don’t have all night to listen to you piss yourself so I’m just going to cut you loose and we can both be done with it yeah?”

 “H-Hey no! Wait! What the fuck’s your problem?!” The man yells, voice pitching as he tries his best to look at his tormentor. “Is it because I messed with your girl?! Look, I didn’t even know she was alright?!”

 Jimin tilts his head; amused by the conclusion he’s been given. The demon hums but other than that, gives no further response. Not like a lowly scum deserves an answer anyways.

 “It doesn’t matter, and quite frankly, it’s none of your business too. Just know that you’re scum and deserve to perish. So….” Kneeling down, Jimin’s hand grasps at the rope keeping said scum from experiencing the bungee jump of his life. “See you in hell, Mike.”

 The rope snaps from the flash of intense heat coming from the demon’s palm and before he has the chance to utter another word, Mike is plummeting towards the ground, his screams fading fast. No sooner afterwards, Jimin teleports himself to the safety of the ground below, squinting upwards to catch the speck that is Mike still making his steep descent.

 Closer…. Closer….

 Now he hears his screaming gradually becoming louder and for a split second, Jimin’s anticipation gets the better of him, giddy to see the result of a human body falling from such a height. That is, until your warning tone echoes from the back of his mind, the nagging begrudgingly makes him scowl with a roll of his eyes before he outstretches a hand above his head and just mere inches from cracking his head open on the gravel ground, Mike’s body comes to a complete stop though he continues wailing.

 Jimin’s scowl deepens as he glares down at the man. He runs an agitated hand through his blue-tinted locks but evidently couldn’t restrain himself from kicking him right in the face…again. It puts a swift end to his endless banshee scream. A heavy sigh escapes his parted lips as he unsympathetically releases the hold he has on Mike’s body, letting him topple over ungraciously with a loud thud.

 “You’re so lucky; I would’ve dumped your body into the nearest river and call it a night.” Jimin mutters angrily, peering down at Mike’s unconscious form disdainfully with hands on either side of his hips. He stares at his stupid face, nose bent in an unnatural way for a few moments longer and with another frustrated inhale through his nose, Jimin impulsively gives one last kick to the man in his gut. They say you shouldn’t kick a man while he’s down but Jimin’s last fuck had long been given away already. Plus, it did him some good; it took the remainder of his steam because he finally straightens himself out, rolls his shoulders to release any tension left before he stoops down to rifle through the man’s pockets.

 He pulls out his wallet, deft hands quickly sifting through various cards until it lands on a university student ID, the institution’s name printed on the plastic with bold letters. Giving the worn leather wallet a shake, a key tumbles out into Jimin’s awaiting hand (along with a bunch of loose change but Mike doesn’t need them). Engraved on the head are a number and letter, no doubt pertaining to the dorm he’s living in. That’s all Jimin needs as he conjures up a portal leading to the location, removes the bindings from Mike’s wrist and feet and all but rolls him through to the floor of his bedroom with the soles of his shoes.

 Jimin tosses the wallet carelessly through too and closes the portal, hands brushing against each other like he had taken out a hefty pile of trash (in a way he did). Feeling a little lighter in mood, Jimin turns to regard his surroundings, stretches and take in the still cool night air. Guess he should probably head on back to your place to check up on you now; it wouldn’t do him any good if he had kept you up worrying over some insignificant scum like Mike.

 So with quick steps, Jimin vanishes in wisps of dark smoke, only to re-materialize in your bedroom. He was honestly half-expecting to be scolded by you the moment he made his appearance but find a much different sight altogether (though still unsurprising). You’re slouched against the wall at the head of your bed, head lopping off to one side in a way that looked too uncomfortable to remain in with the sheets only halfway pulled up over your body. Jimin can’t help the air that escapes through his nose in a quiet giggle, hands suddenly itching to snap a picture of you. He gives in to the temptation, pulling out his mobile with ease.

 After taking a sufficient amount of photos (with various amounts of filters to each), Jimin moves soundlessly towards the edge of the bed to loop an arm around your shoulders, careful to cradle your head against his chest before you used his other free hand to momentarily discard the blanket to make room to scoot you down to the pillows. Once he’s laid you down properly, he fixes the covers again, tucking them under your chin and snuggling the plush cat toy you’re so fond of closer to your side.

 You let out an indecipherable murmur, head shifting to sink further into your bed before letting out a deep exhale, a small smile playing on your lips. Jimin shakes his head though his own smile threatens to overtake his lips. He turns around, satisfied and settles into your desk chair, allowing his eyes to slip shut and the rhythmic sounds of your breathing to lull him into a sense of ease he hasn’t felt in a long time.

[kyogre-blue]

Nanowrimo, day 1 (wc 2948)

Notes: just keeping track

~.~

The last thing Alibaba remembered was clearing the dungeon. 

Near death, treasure, and even a djinn — it was a dungeon alright, straight out of a Sinbad story. Well, with a lot more screaming and fumbling, since Alibaba was no Sinbad, and Aladdin was... well, Aladdin was Aladdin, and even he didn’t seem to know what that really meant. 

‘You are a brave person.’ ‘My friend.’

Whoever Aladdin was, most of all, he was Alibaba’s friend. Someone he could laugh with about the scary things, and someone who would face those scary things with him. And they had even made a promise together, to go on even more adventures. Yeah, that tunnel of light toward a glowing world below, laughing together with Aladdin, was the last thing Alibaba remembered. He thought he had probably drifted off. 

The next thing he knew was crashing straight into someone. He could tell it was a someone because that unfortunate person let out a startled grunt, matching Alibaba’s yelp. Both their voices were drowned out by the clatter of treasure scattering across the ground around them. 

Once the cling-cling-cling of golden plates, golden cups, golden crowns and necklaces and coins began to die down, their matched pained groaning could be heard. 

Squinting against the reflexive tears and clutching his aching head, Alibaba peered up at the other person, who was crouched in front of him, clutching his own head in a mirrored position. 

It was a boy, a few years younger than Alibaba, with a mess of long dark hair and ragged, rough clothing. 

“What happened?” the boy muttered, grimacing and looking around in confusion. “Wasn’t I just coming out of the dungeon?” 

“You too?” Alibaba blurted out. 

“Too? You mean, you were in the dungeon too?” 

“Probably a different one. I was in Amon, in Qishan. What about you?” 

The boy’s eyes widened in shock. “There’s more than one? Where’s Qishan? I’ve never heard of that!” 

What a country bumpkin, Alibaba thought. Smiling a little, he sat up and settled into a more comfortable position. Just a quick glance around was enough to confirm that they weren’t anywhere near Qishan anymore, the barren ground and hills completely different from the desert. Not knowing about a faraway city wasn’t surprising, but hadn’t everyone heard of dungeons? 

Aladdin hadn’t, but Aladdin was… Aladdin. 

“What about you? Where were you before?” Alibaba asked. 

“Between Parthevia and Reim,” the boy said. His sharp golden eyes also darted around, noting something Alibaba couldn’t see. “This place… looks like Parthevia. I recognize those cliffs, we’re not far from my village.” 

Maybe his djinn had sent him in the right direction. Maybe his djinn had liked him better than Amon had liked Alibaba, which was not at all. Was this supposed to be some kind of storybook lesson for him? Or maybe the cranky giant old man had just wanted to separate this moneygrubber he didn’t approve of from Aladdin and Morgiana — of whom there was no sign. 

“Qishan is on the other continent, to the east,” Alibaba explained. “It’s in the central desert.” He shrugged. “I hadn’t heard there was another dungeon in Parthevia either.” 

That was hardly surprising, even for someone like Alibaba who liked to listen to dungeon stories and gossip. The world was large, and the dungeons were mysterious. The boy in front of him seemed to have the same thinking, and both of them nodded to themselves, accepting the situation. 

“More importantly,” Alibaba said, turning to a far more practical and immediate matter, “some of this should be yours, right? How are we going to figure out what is whose?”

He meant the treasure scattered all around them. 

“Eh… let’s just split it half and half,” the other boy decided. With this much, what was the point of squabbling? It seemed that, unlike Alibaba, riches had not been his primary goal for going into a dungeon. Easily dismissing the matter from his mind, he turned to Alibaba with excited eyes. “By the way, my name is Sinbad. Can you tell me more about this Qishan place? And the dungeon you went to?” 

Oh, like the dungeon conqueror, Alibaba almost said. But the poor kid had probably grown up hearing nothing but that. He was just old enough that his parents must have named him right after King Sinbad conquered his first dungeon fourteen years prior, when only Parthevia knew about his feat. 

“I’m Alibaba,” he said instead. “Sure, I’ll tell you about it — if you tell me about yours!” 

Smiling and beginning to chat, first tentatively but with increasing cheer and familiarity, the two of them set to work. 

Neither of them was aware that someone was watching with a puzzled and thoughtful gaze. 

The fact that these two could act so freely and casually when faced with such treasure would have already been surprising to anyone familiar with the kind of dark desires dungeons could bring out in humans. Friends and sword brothers had betrayed each other over the winnings from a successful capture, to say nothing of strangers who had met by chance without witnesses or any chance of assistance. However, the person watching the two was aware of something far stranger. 

Yunan the wandered was a magi, after all, and he could sense the presence of a djinn’s metal vessel clearly. And there, in front of him, were two. 

Why were there two? There had clearly been only one dungeon in the world. 

Or… 

Ten thousand people over the course of a year had vanished into Baal’s tower, never to return. Yunan knew all about it, as he had kept watch over it in that time. But he had felt there was something different about Sinbad. Something dazzling and exceptional. The rukh seemed to sing with his every move. He had never seen or felt anything quite like it. 

This unique presence of his should have been enough to let him conquer a dungeon, Yunan had thought. Because of that, he had kept close watch from near Baal, even as the Parthevian army ebbed and flowed around the tower that had brought them both hope and ruin. 

He had felt the moment something shifted within the dungeon and the gate between worlds began to open once more. Yunan knew that sometimes, the transfer back was not entirely accurate, and he had readied himself to follow wherever Sinbad might be sent flying. Except… 

A blinding pain and something he couldn’t put into words tore through him. 

It was like the world had flipped upside down and turned in on itself — for just one instance.  

‘What… was that?’ 

With all his experience, Yunan still didn’t know. It had unsettled him long enough for the gate from the dungeon to open and close, and the dungeon itself to sink into the ground, leaving nothing but a hole where its foundations had been. 

Ignoring the panicked shouts and scrambling of the Parthevian army, Yunan had reached out and searched. There were traces of two exits. There — a young soldier who had been dumped out at the edge of the dungeon’s small island, he would be picked up by the military before long. And there — Sinbad, back in Parthevia, not too far from his home village. Baal must have liked him a lot, to attempt to help in this way. 

Except that when Yunan teleported to his location, Sinbad was not alone. And the other person was a king vessel too. 

Had Scheherazad raised a dungeon? But the older boy who had introduced himself as Alibaba did not have the look of a Reim citizen. And even then, this kind of ‘coincidental’ meeting… 

Frowning thoughtfully, Yunan remained in the shadows — and watched. 

~.~ 

In the end, they decided to hide the treasure nearby for now. There was just too much of it. Sinbad had prided himself on being able to carry two men’s worth of fish, on the rare days when the fishing had gone well in the past, but even so, it just wasn’t possible to transport all the gold and items at once. 

Since they were near Tison, he had instead suggested going ahead and getting help from the villagers. Doubtlessly just as exhausted by his adventure as Sinbad felt, Alibaba had agreed easily. 

His own adventure. Another dungeon, in a faraway place on a different continent. 

How cool was that? 

Sinbad’s eyes sparkled and his grin was wide enough to make his cheeks ache. He had just done something incredible, and now it felt like all of his dreams were in his grasp. All those amazing places Darius had told him of, and even more besides, were waiting for him. 

“—And then Baal said he would give his power to me and went into my sword!” Sinbad retold his tale excitedly. With overflowing energy, he even drew his father’s curved blade and held it up to the sun. The thin lines of the magic circle engraved on it seemed to glow with an inner light. 

Alibaba made a choking sound. “Baal?!” 

“Yeah, the djinn,” Sinbad said. Thinking for a moment, he realized this was the first time he had called Baal by name. “That’s what he said he’s called.” 

“But that’s…” For some reason, Alibaba’s expression remained caught in shock and disbelief. 

“Didn’t your djinn introduce themselves?” Sinbad wondered. “You did see a djinn, right? Did they accept you as their king?” When his new friend — maybe — continued to splutter, Sinbad crowded him impatiently. “Come one, did they go into your sword too? Show me!” 

“T-that… I don’t think so? Amon, his name was Amon, and he didn’t seem to like me much…” Alibaba answered slowly. But under Sinbad’s persistent nudging and expectant looks, he could only get carried along by the flow and unsheathed his short sword — more of a dagger, really. 

Not that it mattered. What mattered was the eight point star that gleamed on the surface of the metal. 

“Oh,” Alibaba said, twisting the knife this way and that as if he expected the magic seal to be just a trick of the light. 

“Looks like you’ve got some skill!” Sinbad said brightly, elbowing Alibaba. 

With a distinctly bemused look, Alibaba sheathed his dagger again and closed his eyes for a moment, as if to say ‘let’s not think about this for now.’ “Sin… Sinbad, are you sure the djinn said his name was Baal?” he asked instead. 

“I’m sure,” Sinbad said firmly. Quirking an eyebrow, he asked, “Why?” 

It was difficult to guess what Alibaba was thinking, but his expressive face was twisted with some confused feeling. Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he forced a very awkward smile. “Haha, it’s nothing,” Alibaba said in a very unbelievable way. “It must be just my imagination. It has to be just my imagination...” 

Exceptionally suspicious. But less suspicious than Yunan, when you got down to it, and Sinbad had let that weirdo into his home. 

Even after everything that happened with Darius, he didn’t want to become a person who only looked at others with suspicion.

“Okay,” Sinbad said, smiling. It was satisfying to see the way Alibaba’s shoulders drooped in relief. The world was unreasonable and hard enough as it was, without people adding to each other’s burdens. 

Tison Village was just go ahead. 

His heart pounding, Sinbad sped up until he was nothing, leaving Alibaba trailing behind more sedately. Seeing a group of family figures passing between the houses ahead, he waved his arms and hollered, "Auntie! Auntie, everyone, I'm back! I did it! I conquered the dungeon!" 

The women turned, gaping at him shock. Sinbad couldn't help laughing. Then, the shock broke, and they rushed to surround him, patting and hugging. 

"Sin! It's really Sin!"

"Sin's back!" 

"Oh, where have you been? Do you know how worried Esra was?" 

That made Sinbad laugh again. "It's only been a day!" Or so he thought, telling time in the dungeon was hard, but he'd left before dawn, gone in before noon, ran around inside without resting, and now returned with the sun high in the sky. It must have been overnight, but he had been gone for much longer before on various jobs. 

The expression on the women's faces made his cheer cool abruptly. Eyebrows burrowing, he looked between them. 

"Sin, it's been weeks," Auntie said. "We were afraid you wouldn't... and with Esra's health..." 

He didn't listen any further. Darting past them, he ran home. He thought he could hear Alibaba say something to the women perhaps introducing himself or giving an explanation or asking for, but Sinbad didn't pay them any mind. 

Suddenly, he had a terrible premonition. Just like watching the wind and the waves and knowing which way the next swell would come from, he could see the horrible way this would play out. 

It had been weeks. His mother, whose health had already been so weak, who had sent him off, telling him to find the thing only he could do and not worry about her anymore... 

Sinbad burst into their dilapidated home and rushed toward the bed without waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. "Mom!" he called out frantically. "Mom, I'm back—!" 

...And nearly crashed into Esra herself, who was sitting upright, a half-woven net in her lap. 

She blinked at him, momentarily too taken aback to react. Then, a warm smile lit up her wan face. "Sinbad," she said, reaching for him. "Oh, Sinbad, welcome home!" 

Without hesitation, he dive into her embrace, clutching tightly at her. Her skin was clammy, and she was trembling slightly. Even on a good day like this, when she could at least sit up, Esra was terribly frail. But she was alive, murmuring comforting words and fruitlessly smoothing down Sinbad's hair. It hadn't been a premonition, but just his fears. 

"Mom, I'm home," Sinbad said into her shoulder, voice muffled and choked. "I did it, I conquered the dungeon. I have so much gold now, and the djinn said he gave me he power of a king... I'm going to change the world, just like I said!"

"I know," Esra said fondly, still stroking his head like she had when he was a child. "I know. You're meant for something special, Sinbad. I knew you could do it..." 

When Sinbad had calmed enough to head back outside, he found Alibaba leaning against the wall of their hut, waiting. 

“Hey,” Alibaba called out, awkwardly raising his hand in greeting. “How’s your mom?” 

“She’s okay,” Sinbad smiled. “But for a moment there, I was really worried.” 

“...I know how that feels,” the other boy said. “My mom got sick too, and... But you’ve got lots of money now, so you can get medicine and good doctor for her. And you can buy a nice house, and good food. So, she’ll be fine.” 

Blurting all of that out in a rush, he cleared his throat and refused to meet Sinbad's gaze. 

"Yeah," Sinbad agreed. "I'll go to Contastia and get a doctor. ...After we get all the treasure over to the village. Even if no one really passes through that area, we shouldn't just leave it out." 

"Then how about I go," Alibaba offered, "while you and everyone here get the treasure to the village? Just tell me which direction to go." 

Sinbad’s eyebrows hitched. He wanted to run off to Contastia right that moment too, but... “Don’t we need to get the money first?” 

“Oh, I kept a little on me,” Alibaba grinned. 

How reliable, huh. 

Although it had been all of a sudden, maybe this too was part of the flow, guiding him onward. Thinking like that, Sinbad grinned. 

~.~

It made him feel a bit guilty, but Alibaba hadn’t volunteered to go to the nearby port city just out of the goodness of his heart. Sure, he had looked for medicine and a doctor first. But after buying the concoction and making an appointment for the old man to come to Tison Village the next day, he had made sure to catch some local gossip and ask a few questions. 

The result was... terrifying. 

One kid? Could be playing a joke. A small village? Could be in on it. Though for them to somehow be exactly where Amon dropped Alibaba was already strange. But an entire town, showing clear signs of hard times, talking about the old emperor of Parthevia, about the war with Reim, about the dungeon that had appeared in the strait a year ago...? 

One kid named Sinbad with a djinn called Baal... 

It could only be one thing. 

“But how can it be time travel? That’s not possible!” Alibaba finally burst out, near tears. 

He had waited until he was well out of town and completely alone to have his well-deserved breakdown. If he was going to embarrass himself, he was at least going to do it without witnesses, both for his pride and to not get labeled a madman. 

Well, that was how it was supposed to be. But a voice suddenly came from in front of him. 

“You’re right. It’s not possible,” a man said — a man who definitely hadn’t been there before when Alibaba crouched and put his head between his knees to bemoan his fate. “There is no magic for traveling through time.” 

Alibaba looked up. The man smiled down at him. 

“My name is Yunan. I’m a wanderer,” he said. “But also, I am a guardian. So I’d like to hear where exactly it is you came from.” 

Although his smile was very gentle, it did not seem like refusing was an option. 

~.~