#'when making art we create a mirror in which someone may see their own hidden reflection' (Rick Rubin)

[tavolgisvist]

'I look in the mirror'

At the Cavern, 1963, photo by Michael Ward

Photo by Mike McCartney

August 13, 1966, photo by Bob Bonis

We wrote with two guitars, John and I. And, as I’ve mentioned previously, the joy of that was that I was left-handed while he was right handed, so I was looking in a mirror and he was looking in a mirror. We would always tune up, have a ciggie, drink a cup of tea, start playing some stuff, look for an idea. Normally, one or the other of us would arrive with a fragment of a song. ‘Please Please Me’ was a John idea. John liked the double meaning of ‘please’. Yeah, ‘please’ is, you know, pretty please. ‘Please have intercourse with me. So, pretty please, have intercourse with me, I beg you to have intercourse with me.’ He liked that, and I liked that he liked that. This was the kind of thing we’d see in each other, the kind of thing in which we were matched up. We were in sync.

(Paul McCartney, about Please Please Me in The Lyrics, 2021)

gifs by javelinbk

A lot of what we had going for us was that we were both good at noticing the stuff that just pops up, and grabbing it. And the other thing is that John and I had each other. If he was sort of stuck for a line, I could finish it. If I was stuck for somewhere to go, he could make a suggestion. We could suggest the way out of the maze to each other, which was a very handy thing to have. We inspired each other.

(Paul McCartney, about Eight Days A Week in The Lyrics, 2021)

gifs by nikidontsurf

When John and I met, the first year of our friendship was spent talking about these cover versions, the records we loved, and then playing them again and again. As we got to know each other, we practised these various covers until one day the conversation went, ‘You know, I’ve written one or two songs.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, so have I.’ That gave us something in common that was itself wholly uncommon. I went to a school of a thousand boys and I’d never met anyone who said he’d written a song. Mine were just in my head. So were John’s. We took each other by surprise. And then the logical extension was, ‘Well, maybe we could write one together.’ So that’s how we started. And we became versions of each other.

(Paul McCartney, about The Other Me in The Lyrics, 2021)

gifs by stewy

Q: "Can I ask you about Lewis Carroll?" A: "Oh, Lewis Carroll. I always admit to that because I love 'Alice In Wonderland' and 'Alice Through The Looking Glass.' But I didn't even know he'd written anything else. I was that ignorant. I just happened to get those for birthday presents as a child and liked them. And I usually read those two about once a year, because I still like them."

(John Lennon, June 16, 1965, interview for BBC)

Paul McCartney in his garden at Cavendish Avenue, 7; photo by Barry Lategan (for Observer 'What Makes A Man Stylish?', July 1968)

I think of the imagined world of Lewis Carroll [Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There] that John and I both loved so much.

(Paul McCartney, about I’ll Get You in The Lyrics, 2021)

We’d been together so much that if you had a question, we would both pretty much come up with the same answer. [about their hitchhike to Spain by way of Paris] <…> It’s a bit crude, but it’s fair to say that, in general, I’d had a good life and John hadn’t. His life had been tougher, and he had to develop a harder shell than I did. He was quite a cynical guy but, as they say, with a heart of gold. A big softy, but his shield was hard. So that was very good for the two of us. Opposites attract. I could calm him down, and he could fire me up. We could see things in each other that the other needed to be complete.

(Paul McCartney about Ticket To Ride in The Lyrics, 2021)

Sometimes I look in the mirror Is nobody there? But I just keep on staring and staring No Can it be? Can it be? Can it be? And if I look in the mirror And nobody´s there But I just keep on staring, and staring No Is it me? Is it me? Is it me?

(John Lennon, circa 1977)

+ this

[belamuse]

You're allowed to lie in poetry

inviting your inner shadow self to play

“The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth” - Jean Cocteau

One of my favorite things about poetry (and fiction) is it’s a lot like acting. You can create a narrator who says what you would never say in real life, or someone who goes back in time and changes the course of their own history. You get to use real emotions, pieces of memories, but change any and everything you want to make it more dramatic, more exciting, more painful, more intense, or just more satisfying in the mouth.

Chiaroscuro

Before I became a writer, I was a visual artist.  While I work in many styles, I have a particular love for black and white photography and charcoal drawing, both of which deal primarily in light and shadow, or Chiaroscuro. 

In order to create the illusion of a three-dimensional form, both light and shadow must be tended to in equal measure. In drawing or painting, an artist might even start with a brown or grey paper tone and add elements of white and black to the image in order to create this desired effect; the darker the shadows, the brighter the lights appear.  

Art, poetry, and good spiritual practices are all areas that must tend to light and shadow in equal measures. 

The concept of The Shadow self has been around for as long as we’ve had myths, but psychologist Carl Jung helped popularized the idea in the 1950's.

"Jung proposed that at a young age, as we begin to develop a conscious ego and sense of self, two interdependent psychological systems begin to form: the persona, and the shadow. The Persona is the socially acceptable personality mask we wear to ensure we attain a sense of belonging, smooth relations with others, and success in the social world. While the shadow is the dark and unconscious side of the conscious ego, composed of the qualities we reject and repress into the unconscious.” - The Duality of Man

When we write from flow, we can go into the deepest and most hidden parts of ourselves. In my opinion, we go past that into the space where ideas and archetypes live, we have access to every emotion or thought that has ever been. 

I know this will date me, but one of my favorite examples of the Shadow is Dark Willow from Buffy - she’s just so terrifying and satisfying at the same time. This week, I invite you to create your own Shadow self and write some poems or a story in her voice.

It is important to remember what Natalie Goldberg says, “We are not the poem,”

"The problem is we think we exist. We think our words are permanent and solid and stamp us forever. That's not true. We write in the moment. Sometimes when I read poems at a reading to strangers, I realize they think those poems are me. They are not me, even if I speak in the "I" person. They were my thoughts and my hand and the space and the emotions at that time of writing. Watch yourself. Every minute we change. It is a great opportunity. At any point, we can step out of our frozen selves and our ideas and begin fresh. That is how writing is. Instead of freezing us, it frees us." 

Some Prompts for your own writing

The themes this week are about light and shadow, multiplicity, the many selves, diving deeply into uncomfortable places, owning our darkness and our light.

Creative prompt

Take some photos of yourself using interesting light, 

make shadows on the wall, hide or reveal aspects of yourself

use an app to make them black and white and play with the contrast.  

Journaling prompt

What are some things that annoy you in other people? 

Can you see how some of those traits may be shadow desires of your own that you have denied yourself? 

When was the last time you lied? What truths did it tell you? 

What pieces of yourself would like to be seen, acknowledges, integrated?

Some words for you to play with

shade, stark, deep, mirror, reflection, shatter, ombre, gradient, light, bright, soft, hard, sheen, night, shine, shimmer, glimmer, sun, exposure, tint, lens, gaze, shadow

10 Poetry Prompts (set a timer for 5 mins, pick one, and go)

It cut the room in half…

it rose from the shadow…

I tried to hide…

the light came from…

I let it out…

The truth is…

If they ask me…

the darkness whispered…

the new me…

I remember the light…

Thank you for being here! I’d love to see any work you write from these prompts! Post them in the comments or tag me <3

[remakethestars]

RAVENCLAW 💙🦅🤎

Headcanons.

❝Even in the blackness, light can be found. My enemy can be outsmarted.❞

— Alex Hirsch, Journal 3

This is my house, y'all; buckle up!

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, & Slytherin. Headcanon masterlist.

The door'll let you in for witty responses.

We prop it open during exam season, when everyone's coming back from dinner, on party nights, & when no one can solve the riddle.

Questions become more difficult to answer after curfew.

Everyone waits outside & pretends not to know first night until the first-years figure it out.

Today's riddle & answer posted on the back of the door every morning; check before you leave just in case.

Sometimes you find the prefects debating over what the answer is; no one leaves the common room until someone's figured it out, so sometimes, the entirety of Ravenclaw is late to breakfast.

Again, if we absolutely can’t, we’ll prop it open.

If the door’s propped open and you remove the prop, we’ll use the guillotine on you.

Everyone has at least one hill to die on.

There's a podium by the fireplace with a record book on it of all the books in Ravenclaw's library that you can ask for help finding books from (pages flip in their own). 

If you’re in a reading slump, describe what you're looking for; we've probably got it!

If you don't like writing & highlighting in the books, it'll disappear while you have it, but everyone's free to mark in them. 

So good at reading their own messy notes and the notes their friends wrote they can read a doctor's handwriting.

And there are notes everywhere. As organized as some Raveclaws wish they could be, you can't make notebooks & journals as organized as Google Doc & Word documents. Unless, ya know … someone made a spell for that — hold on, I gotta write that down!

Professors find notes — ideas for spells & potions — on the back of homework & tests. More knowledgeable teachers will add their ideas or advice before handing it back.

Everyone leaves a copy of their favorite book with annotations before they leave seventh year. 

There's a coffee/tea cart in the common room. 

Hallways to the dorms are covered in graffiti from students long passed.

Dorms branch off based on your year. 

Girls can walk into the boy's dorms & vice versa. 

All rooms are extended for more space.

Beds are built into the wall like window seats & have bookshelves where the head and footboards should be. 

Dark blue curtains can be drawn shut if you're feeling introverted. 

Trunks go under the bed, so they're kinda high off the ground.

Cast an extension charm if you’re claustrophobic.

At the end of every year, everyone congregates in the common room, someone casts glisseo on the stairs to Ravenclaw tower, & everyone slides their trunks down (it's called "the trunk shoving").

No one gives a single sh¡t about house points.

Ravenclaw’s are always blowing something up & losing points.

Dramatic about stubbing their toe, but super casual about ending up in the hospital wing because they "wanted to test a hypothesis."

If you have a question or don't understand something, ask it loudly in the common room; someone will undoubtedly answer or direct you to another who can.

Just don't use bad grammar, or sixteen people will correct you in unison. 😅

Learn (a) new language(s) in the common room 20:00–21:00 Mon.–Fri.

Tutoring sessions are in the common room at 21:00–22:00 Mon.–Fri. Or ask for private lessons to work around your schedule.

If a particular teacher's sh¡t, we host a class in the common room after dinner.

Also, there're just classes for random stuff: art, budgeting, codes & code-breaking, cooking, dancing, darning, fencing, ice skating (in the winter months), knot tying, lock picking, makeup, Morse code, muggle martial arts, sewing…

First years are all offered a class on note taking.

A lot of us do our homework on Friday night so we don't have to worry about it all weekend, so there're no party activities tonight, but you can play a muggle board game if you want.

Karaoke on Saturday nights.

Dungeons & Dragons on Sunday nights.

D&D’s swapped out for a play once a month; screw the theater ban! (For an explanation of Hogwarts’s theater ban, see Albus Dumbledore’s notes on “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” in The Tales of Beedle the Bard.)

Morning yoga in the common room — feel free to join; we'll teach you some poses.

Ask around; whatever you're looking for — info, candy, contraband — someone probably hands it out, sells it, can get it for you, and/or can tell you where to find it.

Pass around a spell that allows them to clean themselves. Who has time for showering?

And a potion that gives them the same feeling & energy as if they slept. Who has time for sleeping?

Yes, we're building a guillotine in the common room.

Please don't utilize it in the decapitation of any living person or thing (unless it's the Snape or Umbridge)!

Our next project is a carousel. With working lights & everything.

Yes, we're building a house of cards in the common room; please don't blow on it.

Be quiet until noon on the weekends or get hexed.

Thank Merlin they teach sign language in the common room every year & everyone knows enough to get by.

Parties are highly regulated.

People volunteer to walk people back to their dorms & put up protection charms so you don't get assaulted. Those people are vetted with Veritaserum first to confirm the authenticity of their intentions.

People often get into academic debates, which can get a bit loud; just silencio them & move on.

The entrances to the dorms are hidden behind moving bookshelves.

The Ravenclaw copy of Hogwarts: A History will tell you more than you realized you needed to know; there're enough notes in the margins to make a second book, including how to enter the kitchens, how to sneak out if the castle, how to find the Room of Requirement…

They've located more secret passages & rooms in Hogwarts using spells they created than the Marauders were aware of.

First-years are told how to put extension charms on their backpacks so they're not heavy — that's a crap-ton of stairs.

There's an incredibly thick book by a armchair near the fireplace that's full of testaments of Ravenclaw's alumni. "What's one thing you wish you'd known when you started Hogwarts?" First-years are encouraged to flip through it.

And taught a low-concentration spell for levitating books while laying down so your arms don't get tired (flick wand to turn page).

Common room's extended to fit all kinds of activities (and the bookshelves).

Some third-years built an aquaponic system on top of one of the window seats; take a cucumber, if you want, or stop to look at the fish.

Again, explosions are not uncommon. (Please don’t drop any explosives in the fish tank. As water isn’t as compressible as air, this will kill the fish.)

Everyone just kinda glances over to make sure you’re okay before going back to what they were doing.

There's always a record playing.

They host a hike through the Forbidden Forest once a week, because what even are rules?

If you hear an intelligent conversation taking place, feel free to sit down & listen or jump in!

The wind whistles against the windows all year round, but they've been charmed to keep water out.

Played The Floor is Lava before it was a meme.

There's a two-way mirror on the wall above the fireplace. There's a muggle television on the other side. No one's sure whose T.V. it is, but a lady comes in in the mornings in hair curlers & watches the news.

She puts in V.H.S. tapes of Disney movies at the start of term. Hypothesis says it's for the first years & this person's a half-blood or a muggle-born.

Sometimes, people work together to solve the Friday crossword in The Daily Prophet. It's the hardest all week.

Look at each other like they're the camera in The Office when someone says something stupid.

Oh, boy, if someone's found a really good mystery book… That sh¡t’s getting magically copied & passed around. We discuss theories at meals, pass notes in class, & set up a murder board in the common room.

Actually, Ravenclaw house has solved a number of murders in its free time.

Visit my Ravenclaw YouTube playlist & Pinterest board.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

[jeonsjiddies]

apodyopsis (m) | jjk

summary- apodyopsis (n.) ; the act of mentally undressing someone

alternatively, Jungkook is a nude model in your art class

rating- explicit / 18+ word count-  12k pairing- jungkook x reader genre- smut Warnings- daddy kink, slight degrading?, mild health concerns, very light bdsm?, masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), rough sex, kind of dom!jungkook, a little name calling?, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it bb)

blkjmn & dontaskshhhhh ( weak&wet ™) ;  2020 all rights reserved©

a/n: our lovechild is born! We worked so hard on this, we hope you love it as much as we do. Currently thanking my lucky stars that @blkjmn​ agreed to collab with me, and that she saved my life with that glorious sex scene because I can’t seem to stop writing mushy fluffy smut. I love you so much thank you for being by my side and co-writing this with me. <3

“There’s one last thing we need to discuss before you are signed, Mr. Jeon. Do we need to backtrack for a moment to review, or shall we continue on?” The business contractor asked, using his thumb and index finger to push his glasses up further onto his nose bridge.

Jungkook wasn’t registering a single word that left the man’s mouth. His eyes were glued to the fine print on the page that described the job he’d be keeping for likely most of his (young adult) life, or at least until he was able to successfully rid himself of the guilt that's been resting on his broad shoulders for the last ten years.

He would never be able to forget the way his mother’s face fell every time he was discharged from the hospital. Not only did she have no answers and a still sick child to take home, but she also had a weighty hospital bill to add to the others that she received about once a month. She worked her ass off to take care of him as best she could, even with the gigantic debt she kept under her belt for the entirety of his childhood.

All of this was hidden from Jungkook until he was told he had celiac disease at the age of ten. His symptoms had gotten worse the longer his condition remained unnoticed, even though he would complain to his mother of constant pain everyday, tearful eyes locking with hers as if begging for her to give him any sort of relief.

“Mommy, my stomach hurts!”

“I’m not hungry! It makes it worse to eat!”

“Can you please make it stop, mama?”

He cringes every time he thinks about what he must’ve put his mother through as a child, and how she always managed to push a smile even though she was fighting to make ends meet.

Even after all of that, he was hesitating on signing this contract because he was too shy? Bullshit. He’d be selfish if he were to deny this opportunity because of his underlying fear of being seen naked in front of a large audience of people.

He knew he had no real reason to be afraid, though. After constant teasing in school for being extremely thin due to his illness, he built up the courage to get himself a gym membership when his condition became less overbearing.

He ate more often, built up more muscle, and managed to become more confident in himself and his abilities.

So, what did he have to be nervous for?

Jungkook no longer had any issues with stripping himself down. His body was sculpted perfectly, and he had a massive dick to accompany the figure he had worked for so many years towards.

Sure, everything was all set for him, but not for his mom. Jungkook knew that she barely managed to make her rent last month.

He needed to sign this contract.

“Mr. Jeon?” Jungkok’s glossy eyes were blown wide. He hadn’t moved an inch in the past minute.

“Mr. Jeon…” The man rolled his eyes, obviously knowing that it would take a bit more than calling the young man’s name to get him out of whatever trance he’d put himself in. He slammed his fist down onto the table, and Jungkook’s eyes crossed for a moment before he jolted to his senses.

He cleared his throat, and immediately began sputtering apologies.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m not quite sure what came over me, I-” The contractor held his hand up, effectively silencing the boy as he picked up the pen that sat to the right of him while offering it to Jungkook with a raised brow.

“If this is something that you are not going to take seriously, then you may escort yourself out of my office. If you’d like to begin your career in this field, then take this pen and sign this contract.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate in grabbing the pen from the man, immediately apologizing for the way he snatched it out of his grasp.

He gnawed on his bottom lip, eyes scanning over the words on the thin paper as if he hadn’t been in this chair reviewing them for the past three hours.

This job paid well, and he had nothing to risk.

Except for the probable denial of any office job he’d try to apply to.

Why would he want an office job anyway?

Probably because--

“Any day now, Mr. Jeon.” He cast an annoyed glance toward the man. Couldn’t he see that he was contemplating on signing the damn thing?

He sighed, stretched his neck from side to side, and lifted the pen to the paper with a shaking hand.

The moment he finished signing, the crumpled sheet was ripped from under his fingertips, and tucked away into the desk of who Jungkook really hoped wouldn’t be his boss.

“It’s nice to have you along, kid.” Jungkook smiled nervously.

“You’ve got a great look, but of course, nude modeling is about what’s under the clothes.” His face instantly began to pale as he gripped the armrests of the chair he sat in.

Was this old dude asking to see him naked? Right now?

“You can step inside of the bathroom behind me to change. There should be a robe hanging on the door. Put it on, meet me outside, and we’ll take a few pictures for your portfolio.”

Jungkook sat still in the chair, staring at the man across from him with those adorable eyes widened in slight panic.

He was trying to pull himself up so he wouldn’t look like a fumbling idiot, but he couldn’t move a limb.

There was no turning back now, and he was fully aware of that.

“Am I… am I supposed to be naked for the f-first photo shoot?” Jungkook asked, his voice weak.

The contractor raised an eyebrow. It was normal for newcomers to be nervous, but he couldn’t understand why it was so difficult for him to follow directions.

In due time, he supposed.

“No, Jungkook.” The contractor sighed, pressing his thumb and middle finger against his temples in distress. Jungkook noted that this was the first time the man had addressed him formally as well, so it was probably in his best interest to go get changed if he didn’t want to get fired before he officially started the job.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said, standing from the chair as he looked over the contractor’s shoulder to the bathroom. It seemed to be decently sized, and he could really use some time alone to get his nerves settled before he had to… well, pose naked for the camera.

Well, not naked. Not this time. That’s what the contractor said.

He looked toward the man one last time, before he began pushing himself in the direction of the bathroom. Upon approaching it, he could pick up the smell of lavender coming from the candles that were lit inside.

He opened the door, and immediately turned around to close and lock it.

He checked to make sure the door was locked before he pulled his shirt over his head and carefully pulled each of his shoes off.

He checked once more as he unbuckled his pants.

He checked one final time as he threw his belt to the floor.

Jungkook slid his thumbs in between his hips and the fabric of the jeans as he tugged them down toward the ground. He had no issue with this as of yet, seeing as he was still in his boxers.

He pressed his body up against the wall, giving himself something to lean up against as he took his jeans off and threw them toward the pile of his clothes he created on the floor.

The boxers were all that were left.

“Come on, man.” He whispered to himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror as he began to get annoyed at his own anxiousness.

It was just a couple of pictures, and he’d be covered by a robe. He was acting like a wreck for no reason.

He closed his eyes and yanked the boxers down in one swift motion, knowing that if he hesitated, he probably would’ve just left them on.

Jungkook shivered as the cold air went straight to his dick, and he almost knocked one of the candles over and sent the bathroom up into flames as he lunged for the robe that was near the door.

It was soft and fluffy, and it also carried the faint scent of the lavender that engulfed his senses. It was warm as well, like a heated towel.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad, then.

He noticed that there were a pair of flimsy sandals sitting near the door as he prepared to leave. He was never told to put them on, or to mess with them at all, but he’d rather not walk around with his bare feet, so he slid them on anyway.

He checked his reflection once more, adjusting the robe a bit so it hung loosely around his waist, and so more of his chest could be exposed.

Sure, he was nervous, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to put on a good show.

He ran his hands down his sides, purposely brushing them over his cock as he considered giving it a few quick pumps before he made his way outside.

That’d be sure to leave a great first impression, which was what he was going for, but it’d be obvious that he was touching himself because his face would blush bright red.

He reached down to grab his clothes, folding them somewhat neatly. He grabbed his shoes and sat them on top of the stack of clothes he’d made.

Worry began to bubble in his stomach once he stepped out of the bathroom to find himself alone in the large office room, but he quickly remembered that he was told to meet the guy outside.

He hummed a small tune as he took quick steps toward the office door, placing his large hand upon the knob and opening it slowly, just in case his boss (Jungkook decided to assume that’s who this man was going to become. It’s better to wish for the worst anyway, right?) was right in front of the door.

Once he didn’t feel any force being pressed against the door, he opened it carefully and shimmied his way out of the office. He pressed his back against it to close it, and this small action caught the attention of his boss, who was sitting on a small bench a few feet away from the office.

“Great! You’re all changed.” The man smiled gently at him, clapping his hands together as he stood up and quickly approached Jungkook.

Jungkook stumbled back a few steps, confused by this sudden change of behavior. Was it because he was finally complying, or was it because he was about to be used for profit?

Either way, he didn’t mind. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to work in a less stressful environment, so he’d take what he could get.

“Uh, yeah… I wasn’t sure of where to put my clothes,” Jungkook began, holding up his clothes as he spoke, “so I decided to—“

“Ah, thank you for the reminder!” The man spoke, retreating back toward the bench he sat on to fetch an unmarked black bookbag from behind it.

He handed it to Jungkook, who took it thankfully and with a small smile.

“When do I return this to you?” Jungkook asked, not bothering to look toward his boss as he spoke as he was busy stuffing his belongings into the bag.

“It’s yours to keep, son.” Jungkook closed the bag and stood up, tossing it lazily over one of his shoulders as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, thank you so much.” He smiled sincerely. He was especially thankful that it was unmarked, because if he were to wear the bag out in public, he’d hate for someone to actually read the company name and google it, only to find pictures of him covered with only a robe on the home page.

He shivered at the thought.

“The studio is actually on this floor, so we haven’t got far of a walk at all.” His boss began to walk, and Jungkook followed a few feet behind him as he began to survey his surroundings at each turn they took.

“Now, there will be a handful of people in this room with you. Other models, photographers, of course, lighting specialists, stylists, and a few possible employers.” Jungkook hummed as the man spoke, ignoring every word that was coming out of his mouth as his heart began to thud loudly in his chest.

He didn’t need this explanation, anyway. The average person knows a little something about how a photo shoot works.

Even though he was a considerable distance away from his boss, he was almost sure that he could hear the thudding in his chest.

“Every single one of the people waiting in this room are going to do their best to make you look good, so there’s no need to worry. Relax, and you focus on making the company look good.” He laughed throatily, and Jungkook laughed stiffly from behind him.

‘Make the company look good my ass,’ Jungkook thought.

He rolled his eyes, almost crashing directly into the short man in front of him as they abruptly stopped at a door tucked away into the corner of the hallway they were on.

“This is it. Do you have anything else to ask of me?” Jungkook hurriedly said no, his nerves being replaced by the excitement to show himself off a bit.

“Alright.” The man nodded once before he opened the door, and once again, Jungkook was slapped in the dick with a blast of cold air.

He raised his eyebrows in interest as he surveyed the few models that were scattered about the different sets that were spread apart in the room. One set was sexy and seductive, dripping in elements of crimson and black, another was a bit more fun, which used orange and yellow to contrast against the white, and Jungkook couldn’t even conjure up the words to describe the other sets.

He continued to watch the models pose as if this was natural for them, flinching every now and then at the bright light that would flash every time a picture was taken.

He also noted that all of the models were nude.

They seemed to be masters of their talents, so maybe Jungkook got to leave the robe on because he was an amateur?

“Shit.” Jungkook cursed under his breath. Another cool draft of wind ran through the room, and he scurried to look down and pull the robe over his thighs.

Jungkook heaved a sigh of relief once he successfully covered himself, and his boss quickly strolled over to him to grab the bag off of his shoulder. Jungkook immediately looked over to ask him what he was doing, but before he got the chance, he was being whisked away by a manicured hand.

Everything moved quickly, but this should’ve been what Jungkook was expecting. This wasn’t just about his money.

He was thrown onto a couch near the center of the room, which was white just like the walls.

As soon as his ass touched the couch cushions, there were at least four people crowding over him to add some blush to his cheeks, and add some hairspray to his hair.

He was startled, but he didn’t mind the chaotic environment. It reminded him very much of the hospital he frequented when he was younger, and the thought of him finally being able to help his mom out after so long brought a smile to his face.

After the clutter of bodies went away, Jungkook was left alone on the couch with a camera pointed directly at him.

He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry.

The man behind the camera snapped a few shots of Jungkook to test the quality of the photos, and once he was pleased with what he saw, he stared expectantly at Jungkook with a raised brow.

“Uh…” Jungkook began.

“Take your robe off.” He stated bluntly. Jungkook choked, and immediately looked to where he saw his boss last, but he was nowhere to be found.

That fucker.

“I—I thought that I—“

“You may want to be quick about it, too. Time is money, and the more pictures we take of you, the better your chances are at being promoted.” Jungkook sighed.

If there was one thing he needed, it was money.

Hell, that’s what he got the job for.

He slowly brought his hands down to the sash that was holding the robe together and undid it, tossing it next to him on the couch.

He smirked lightly when he heard a few of the women standing behind the photographer gasp, quickly scanning every one of their faces to see their shocked expressions.

Jungkook could read the women easily. They all bit their lips, winked, or waved flirtatiously as he made eye contact with them, except for one woman.

She smiled teasingly at him, although she was seemingly unimpressed with his level of confidence. She raised an eyebrow tauntingly, pretending as if she didn’t understand why everyone was reacting as if they’d never seen a penis before. Though her cool exterior radiated disinterest, Jungkook could see past her facade, her eyes gave everything away. He could see the desire in her y/e/c irises. Jungkook understood, he felt it too.

Jungkook returned the smile, oddly at ease by her presence. He absentmindedly licked his lips as he raked his eyes up and down the curves of her figure.

She wore a long sleeved shirt that hugged her frame perfectly, a tight skirt that rested a few inches above her knees, and a pair of black heels that made her legs look absolutely stunning from where Jungkook was sitting.

He was sure they’d still look delicious if he were to take a closer look, which he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

His mind wandered, images of her naked body flashing behind his eyelids. He lost himself in his daydreams of kissing up her legs while she squirmed underneath him.

What the hell is wrong with him? He was made to be the one receiving suggestive glances, but here he was, blatantly checking out the cute girl that was just trying to make him comfortable.

The girl broke eye contact with him, and he immediately looked away as well, squirming slightly in his seat as he felt his cock harden between his legs.

He made no effort to hide it, but he did close his legs a bit to make it less obvious.

He did not just get a boner because he made eye contact with a pretty girl.

Well, on the bright side, he didn’t have to worry about getting himself hard in the bathroom.

He glanced over in the lady’s direction once more, pouting once he noticed that she was no longer paying any attention to him, instead scribbling something down on a notepad she held in her small hands.

Why did he want her attention so bad?

“Alright,” The photographer began, bringing Jungkook back down to earth, “Keep it natural. The more relaxed you feel, the better your photos will turn out.” Jungkook nodded, a bit more eager than he should’ve been to begin his first session.

“Perfect!” The photographer yelled, snapping one last photo of Jungkook before he closed the lens of his camera and began to pack up his equipment.

Most of the other models and workers filed out already, and Jungkook was overly thankful that it would be his turn to leave this room next.

Jungkook thought the shoot went very well, as it was very easy for him to… keep himself encouraged throughout, thanks to that pretty lady.

He relaxed from his position, in which he was leaned forward, his elbows propped onto his knees as he smirked cockily at the camera.

He wasn’t sure of what to do just yet, waiting for his liar of a boss to make himself shown again.

Especially considering that the man had his clothes and shoes.

Jungkook sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his back into the couch as he breathed in and out slowly. He continued like this for a few moments, until he could hear heels tapping against the floor in his direction.

He opened one of his eyes, taking a peek at who was walking toward him.

Jungkook immediately sat up upon noticing that it was the woman with the sexy legs that kept his dick hard through the entirety of his shoot.

She approached him with a friendly smile, and Jungkook returned her sincerity with a smile of his own.

“Could I take a seat?” She motioned toward the empty spot on the couch next to him. Jungkook nodded once.

“Of course.” He moved over a bit, his cock swinging against his inner thigh as he did so.

It was then that he realized that he was absolutely naked still, so he grabbed the robe that laid over the arm of the couch and threw it on, as if the woman hadn’t already seen everything he had to offer— and more.

“Thank you!” She smiled at him. ”I’m Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jungkook.” She chuckled at this. Jungkook was confused as to what she found funny, maybe his name?

He gripped the robe between his fingers, nervously running the pads of them over the soft material as he pondered over what could’ve made the tempting woman in front of him giggle so sweetly.

“Why’re you laughing?” She noticed his nerves return, a knowing smirk on her lips as she watched the way he shyly avoided eye contact with her.

“I already know who you are, Mr. Jeon.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. It’s almost as if she knew she was enticing.

“You did some great work today, you know?” She flashed him an adorable smile again.

It was something about the way that ‘Mr. Jeon’ rolled off of her tongue that was driving Jungkook up the wall.

“Look, I know this may seem a bit forward, but you radiate great potential.” Jungkook nodded, thanking her quietly, as she pulled out that notepad that she was scribbling in when she was too busy to give him attention while he was posing sexily.

“I conduct an art class at a community center, and I’d love it if you were to drop by and model for me a bit, since you’ve gotten the swing of things fairly quickly.” She giggled, as she ripped out the page from the small book and handed it to him gently.

“Please, feel free to decline if you’re uncomfortable, but if you’d like to give it a try then give me a call.” She eyed him carefully as he picked up the paper and read over it.

“That’s my personal number, so you can call me whenever you’d like.” Something about that sentence put an image into Jungkook’s head.

“Alright, I’ll get out of your hair now.” She stood up, collecting her belongings as she did so.

“If I never run into you again, then it’s been a pleasure, Jungkook.” She proceeded to walk away, leaving him on the couch alone.

Jungkook lingered just outside the door of the art room, his stomach twisting with nerves. When he’d first been approached about modeling, he’d laughed it off. It started off with easy stuff, brand deals and commercial advertisements. How did he end up here? Posing nude in front of a group of strangers to pick apart his body for their art? This was the best paying gig he’d ever been presented with… the small advertising gigs had been a couple hundred at best but this one would put a sizable dent in his mother’s debt, easing her misfortune. Jungkook had to do this. For her.

He held his head high and strolled into the room with a confident air, any trace of his uneasiness washed away. He glanced around at the unfamiliar faces, carefully watching his every move. He smiled in a greeting, until his eyes landed on you. His face lit up at seeing your familiar face and your heart clenched at the sight.  Should Jungkook have found comfort in your deceptively soft eyes? No. Did he? Absolutely. Your sharp tongue didn’t phase him too badly, not when he could see the tenderness in your eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Jeon.” you smiled, extending your hand in an invitation.

Jungkook reached out, enveloping your small hand in his own larger one, shaking it professionally. He reveled at how soft your skin was.

“Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N.” he greeted. “Good morning, everyone.” he addressed the rest of the room. “Please call me Jungkook.”

“Alright. Jungkook here is going to be our model. Long gone are the days of fruit baskets. Here is where the fun begins.” you smirked, sending a raised eyebrow Jungkook’s way.

In spite of himself, Jungkook blushed under your suggestive gaze.

“Now, don’t forget that this is for art.” you emphasized. “The human body is a work of art and I expect you to treat it as such. Take this seriously. Okay?”

Most heads nodded automatically, a few older women rolled their eyes or stole looks from each other, mocking you. You were placing a young, muscular man in front of them without clothes. How did you expect them not to ogle?

“For this particular piece, we’re going to be exploring how to use charcoal to get those little details. Don’t forget your shading!” you chimed happily. “Ready, Jungkook?”

“I think so.” he smiled.

“Show us what you got.” you grinned, stepping back and sitting at your own easel.

Jungkook’s hands trembled a bit as he unbuttoned his shirt, trying his best to 1. Not look like a total basket case and 2. Not make it super sensual. Deft fingers worked their way down his shirt and soon the material was sliding off his body in a way he felt was unceremoniously, but judging from the mouths hanging open around the room, might’ve been a bit more enticing than he’d intended.

Jungkook’s chest was absolutely flawless, in your opinion. You were one of the few who managed to keep your tongue inside your mouth for the show, but that didn’t stop your eyes from wandering over his toned physique. Sure you’d seen him at his photography shoot, but he was wearing a robe and you were trying to be professional. Now, hidden behind your easel, you were free to really take him in.

His chiseled chest, the deep ridges of his toned abs, the smoothness of his skin, the light dusting of hair that teased its way under his jeans. He was a walking wet dream. Your mouth watered as your gaze followed the lines of his V. Jungkook popped open the button of his jeans, tugging the zipper down as well. You’d never been so entranced by a simple movement in your life. The man radiated sexual energy.

He shimmied his hips free of the denim, his every movement captivating his audience.  Firm hip bones, luscious thick thighs, deliciously tanned skin were all slowly revealed as he tugged the jeans off in one fluid motion. Maybe he should be a stripper instead of a model… You shook the thought away, but it lingered. Jungkooks movements faltered for a moment, his eyes seeking yours for comfort. You smiled reassuringly at him, and that was all he needed to tug his boxers over his delicious thighs and let his glorious cock free.

“Holy shit.” you heard from somewhere behind you.

“He reminds me of a lover I once had in Prague. I’d sneak him into my hotel room and we’d make love until the sun came up. I miss being young.”

Jungkook coughed and brought his arm up to cover the flush spreading across his cheeks at the older woman’s inappropriate comment. You bit back a laugh.

“Alright Jungkook, just make yourself comfortable and we’ll start drawing you, okay?” you instructed, attempting to take his mind off of the earlier comment.

“Okay.” he nodded, settling himself on the stool you’d set out for him, resisting the urge to strike a pose he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold.

The room grew quiet save for the scratch of charcoal on canvas as the class began attempting to do justice to Jungkook’s beauty in their renditions of him. You began by tracing an outline of his body, opting not to attempt any details yet. The pink tint that rested upon the apple of your cheeks was hard to ignore, and you weren’t sure you could handle trying to get details of certain areas just yet.

You did your best to ignore the effect Jungkook’s naked body was having on your own fully clothed one. He was ethereal, beautiful, the kind of man you could lose yourself in. He had charisma, a way about him that just drew people in. Or maybe it was just you. Every time your eyes locked with his, it was like he was the only thing you could focus on. Everything else was obsolete.

Jungkook held a power over you that honestly scared you a little, and he didn’t even know he did. He didn’t understand how magnetic he was. Sure, he was sexy and he knew it. He’d obviously spent hours painstakingly sculpting his body to perfection, but it wasn’t even just his flawless physique, it wasn’t just his gorgeous, greek-god-like face. His power was inside of him, his strength, his determination, that spark in his gaze.

Jungkook was different from the rest, whether he realized it or not. He was special. Everything about him invited you in and coaxed you to give all of yourself to him. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from wondering as you lazily sketched the outline of him. How would his skin feel under your touch? Heat flooded your veins as you imagined what his touch might feel like in return. You shook these thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand and trying to see Jungkook as nothing more than art you were depicting. You were going to make certain you got every detail correct. And for that, you needed to focus.

Jungkook forced himself to look anywhere but at the people who were gawking at his naked frame. He couldn’t stop himself from watching you though.  He found himself wondering what you thought of him. He wanted to see what you were doing on your canvas. He wanted you to look at him. As if reading his thoughts, you lifted your gaze and faltered when you found his already upon you. When your eyes met and he bit his lip in a nervous smile, you knew you were screwed.

The next time you saw Jungkook was a week later. Your class had nearly doubled in size as word spread of the toned man with the impressive cargo. You rolled your eyes to yourself but greeted your new arrivals with the same professional smile. You couldn’t blame them, not really. Would you have passed up the opportunity to see him naked again? Hell no. He was already undressed when you’d arrived, running late after a meeting with the program director congratulating you on your ability to gain interest in your class.

“Sorry I’m late!” you announced to the class, then to Jungkook specifically with an apologetic look.

“That’s alright dearie.” one of the older women commented, and you sent her a gracious smile.

“So! For those of you who are new, you can partner up with someone and observe or you can find your own Canvas located on the tables in the back. If you need any help please let me know, since you weren’t here for the introductory lessons.”

“Does she really think we’re here just to draw?” you heard a whisper from the back of the room.

“I know. I didn’t believe Karen when she told me an asian boy with a giant dong was modeling for her community center art class. I had to see for myself.” another voice giggled.

“If I were 15 years younger, I would climb that boy like a tree. I may be old enough to be his mother, but I could still give him a run for his money.”

“Mmm.. I wonder what he can do with those fingers. I bet he has stamina for days.”

You glanced up at Jungkook, who was actively trying to hide his discomfort, shifting a little on the stool as he attempted to stay still. You cleared your throat, loudly, sending a pointed look to the two women in the back.

“I just want to remind our newcomers that this class is about art, not objectification. Please remain respectful. If you can’t manage that, I’m sure you can manage to find the door.” you nearly hissed.

They shrugged sheepishly and grew quiet. You huffed in annoyance, glancing back at Jungkook again, who sent you an appreciative smile. You nodded, focusing on your canvas in front of you once more.

Once class was over and the others had filed out, you walked up to Jungkook as he was buttoning his jeans. He looked up from his task and greeted you with a warm smile.

“Hey, Y/N.” he grinned, apparently forgetting he still needed to put a shirt on.

You used every brain cell you had to keep yourself from staring at his chiseled chest.

“Hey Jungkook.” you smiled. “Are you okay? Did those women make you uncomfortable? I can ask them not to come back.”

“Oh it’s okay!” he assured you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to be a bother. It did make me kind of uncomfortable but they stopped so it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? They said some pretty inappropriate things.” you pressed.

“I don’t mind that what they said was inappropriate,” he explained, “it’s more that they were talking about me like I wasn’t even here. Like I was some sex doll or something. I don’t mind women finding me attractive, but I do have sustenance.”

“I get it. You shouldn’t be objectified while you’re doing your job.” you told him.

“Kind of hard to remind people I have dignity when I’m standing in front of them in all my naked glory. I can see how that might be distracting.” he winked playfully.

“Ah, there’s that cocky personality.” you threw back at him with a grin.

“Seriously though. Thank you for being on my side.” he told you sincerely.

Electricity shot through your body when he leaned in and gave you a gentle hug. You took a deep breath to steady yourself but that only resulted in breathing in the scent of him, musky and woodsy, yet sweet. It reminded you of cinnamon.  It was intoxicating.

You desperately ignored the ache between your thighs and wrapped your arms around him to reciprocate his affections. His body seemed to relax against yours and the embrace lasted a little longer than a hug between mostly strangers should. He pulled away but held you at arms length to watch your features for a moment.

“See, now that’s the kind of look I don’t mind from a woman. Especially one as beautiful as you.” he smirked, turning and grabbing his shirt off the stool before sauntering away and shooting you a shit eating grin as you stand frozen in place.

You shot up, waking with a fright. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath. Images flashing through your mind once more. Your subconscious thoughts led way to the hottest sex dream you’d ever experienced, and of course the star was your male model. You couldn’t stop picturing  his mouth on you, his hands on you. You shook your head to clear it. Alone in your bed, you couldn’t get that cocky grin out of your mind. You tried to fight it, you really did. You tried to redirect your mind anywhere but his plump lips, his perfectly sculpted jaw, the way his warm skin felt against yours when he’d hugged you…

Shrouded in shame but overcome with desire, you let your hand dance down your stomach underneath the elastic of your pajama shorts, your fingers finding their way to your slit. You closed your eyes, imagining it was Jungkook’s fingers inside you instead. You pumped them slowly in and out of yourself.

“Ungh… fuck. Jungkook.” you whined, writhing against your fingers, trying to find that spot that drove you crazy.

You picked up the pace, letting your fingers find a delicious rhythm inside of you, wondering what it would feel like if it were Jungkook inside of you instead. His cock was so pretty. It took everything you had not to stand up and start sucking it every time you saw it.

“Jungkook.” left your lips as your whines got louder, moving your attention to circle at your clit with your juices as lubrication.

You wished you had a picture of him to look at while you pleasured yourself to the idea of him, but you let your imagination take control, replaying images from your dream, and creating new fantasies about the model with the sultry eyes. You were close, and the closer you got to the edge, the louder you became. You swore you could almost hear the faint sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing along with your own, but it must’ve been your imagination running wild.

Your orgasm crashed over you, Jungkook’s name leaving your lips repeatedly, like he was the only thought you could muster when your brain turned off and your high took over. You fucked yourself through it, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you pulled your fingers out. You padded your way to the bathroom to wash up, climbing back into bed not nearly as satiated as you’d hoped to have been. You drifted to sleep anyway, thoughts of Jungkook and the hope of seeing him again soon on the forefront of your mind when unconsciousness took over.

Jungkook was early today, you noticed as you walked into the art room. You were the first two to have arrived, you wanted to make up for being late the previous week.

“Hey. What are you doing here so early?” you asked, setting your bag down as you made your way over to him.

“Needed to talk to you.” he responded, voice low and husky.

“Everything okay?” you asked, concern filling your chest.

“No. Everything is not okay.” he hissed, trapping you against the wall.

You shivered at the sudden change in his demeanor, at his body so close to yours, at the dominating tone of his voice.

“I’ve been horny as hell all week.” he grunted, rutting his hips into yours.

“O-oh.” was all you could muster for a response, your body immediately reacting to his movements and sending moisture to your core.

“Imagine my surprise when I got a call from you late Saturday night.” he smirked, lips ghosting over the hollow of your throat, allowing his cool breath to fan against the area. He watched your skin flush crimson and felt your heart rate pick up.

Saturday night? You hadn’t called him. Saturday night you were… oh.

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you sound when you’re moaning my name?” he teased, rolling his hips and pulling them back before pinning you to the wall with them once more, his erection pressed firmly against your aching heat.

“I-” you began to explain, but he cut you off.

“Fuck, the way you sound when you cum… I nearly came too. Listening to you fuck yourself for me. Tell me, what were you thinking about when your fingers sunk into that pretty little pussy? Was it my mouth?” he questioned, letting his lips graze along the shell of your ear.

“Was it my cock?” he ground his hardened member into you once more. “Maybe it was my tongue.” he mused, licking a bold stripe from the swell of your breasts to your collarbone.

A whimper was forced from your throat at his ministrations. You were hyper aware of every breath Jungkook took, feeling his body move against yours. You were also aware that at any moment, people were going to start filing through the door for class.

“Jungkook.” you breathed, a warning.

Or was it a promise?

Jungkook groaned, biting down on the side of your neck and sucking a purple bruise into the exposed flesh, then blowing cold air over the injured spot to soothe it. Your entire body shivered. Jungkook’s head turned as he heard footsteps approach the door. With a pointed look directly into your eyes, he stepped back from you and put much needed space between his body and yours, just in time for the first arrival to walk through the door.

You must’ve been a sight to behold, flushed and breathing heavily while pressed up against the wall. You hadn’t been able to make yourself move after Jungkook stepped away. He looked unbothered, but you were about to burst. You could feel your arousal slipping down your leg. You cursed yourself for wearing a skirt.

Jungkook, however, was thrilled with your outfit choice for the day. Especially since once you’d taken your seat at your easel, he had a front row view of your white lacy panties. Jungkook had already stripped naked for today’s modeling session, having put all of his effort into calming his dick down so he wasn’t hard in front of everyone. However, his efforts were moot when he noticed the dark wet patch imprinted on the ivory fabric that covered your heat.

Jungkook bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood as his eyes latched onto your core. You shifted in your seat, attempting to press your thighs together to find some relief, an action which made Jungkook smirk to himself. Until his cock started reacting. In front of everyone. Jungkook wasn’t sure if he was more turned on or more embarrassed when he noticed your gaze unwavering on his hardening member. Your mouth hung open slightly, drool pooling at the edges. Jungkook chuckled to himself.

The other members of the class were just as astonished as you were, but Jungkook paid them no mind. All he could think about was getting inside of you. He couldn’t stop picturing the way your pupils had blown out just at his words, the way your breath hitched when he touched you. He bet you’d be so responsive when his fingers came to tease along your folds. He wondered how tight you were, if you’d be as loud as you were on the phone or even louder? Surely he could make you scream if you’d been that loud with just your own fingers?

Jungkook gave up trying to control his raging boner the moment he saw your arousal pooled at your core on display for him. Suddenly, he saw your hand sneak between your legs and tease along the ivory fabric. His gaze snapped up to your face, your eyes alight with mischief when they met his own. Your fingers pushed the damp fabric aside and began circling around your clit. Jungkook was the only one who could see from his position at the front of the room.

You were putting on a show for him, torturing him when he could do nothing about it. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you, but your face remained impassive, the epitome of feigned innocence. But like always, Jungkook saw the real you behind your heavy lidded gaze. You couldn’t hide from him, he could read you like an open book. There was nothing innocent about the way you were licking your lips, slowly dragging the swollen flesh between your teeth teasingly.

Your fingers spread your folds so Jungkook had a perfect view of your clit as you began rubbing it in slow circles. Jungkook’s eyes were glued to your bundle of nerves and the way your fingers teased at it. You gathered some of your slick to coat your fingers and lubricate them so they slid along your cunt with ease. Your digits were shiny, covered in your arousal. Jungkook nearly came when he watched in agony as you inserted two fingers into your entrance, pulling them back out and twisting them so he could watch the light reflect off your wetness. You stuck them in your mouth and sucked your juices off seductively before going back to your sketch.

Jungkook could not wait to punish your naughty behavior. He couldn’t wait to wipe that satisfied smirk off your face with an expert flick of his tongue. You had an attitude now, but once he was balls deep inside that soaking wet pussy he was sure you wouldn’t be quite so eager to tease him. You weren’t going to cum until you were crying and begging for it, he’d already made up his mind.

The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slow, each passing second felt like an eternity as Jungkook waited for class to be over. It felt like his dick twitched every time the little hand on the clock did. No matter what he did, no matter what he thought of, Jungkook could not get his erection to subside. His thoughts only led back to the lewd way you’d sucked your own arousal off your fingers.

Jungkook thought he might cry tears of joy when you finally dismissed the class with a chipper wave of your hand and a sweet smile. The second the last person walked out the door, Jungkook shut it and you heard the click of the lock echo throughout the empty room. You swallowed nervously, bending over to grab your bag, earning a hearty laugh from Jungkook.

“Oh baby girl… you really think I’m just going to let you leave after the little show you put on for me?” he purred, advancing toward you quickly until his body was flush against yours, breath tickling the space below your ear. “So naughty, teasing daddy like that.” he tsked.

His fingers trailed their way up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered under his touch, though it was barely even there. His skin danced along yours, coming to rest at the curve of your breasts.

“Mmm… I think I’d like to taste these.” he grinned, suddenly yanking your tank top down so that both of your nipples were exposed to the bitter cold of the room.

A smirk played on his lips at the gasp that snuck its way past yours. His head dipped, and you thought he’d immediately take one of your nipples in his mouth, you were salivating over the thought of his warm, wet mouth on your perky buds. Instead, his pillow soft lips found yours, his tongue roaming along until you parted your lips and granted him access.

His tongue danced with yours as he brought his hips closer to grind into your aching center. You had never wanted anyone as badly as you wanted Jungkook. The man pressed against you had you brainless and ready to do anything he asked with a  simple roll of his hips.

Jungkook decided he didn’t like being the only naked one, and pulled your shirt above your head. Were you shivering from the cold air or Jungkook’s predatory gaze? Hell if you knew. Jungkook’s nimble fingers had your bra unhooked in a suspiciously short amount of time but you paid that no mind. He flung it across the room and his mouth was on your breast in an instant. Slick tongue working against your erect nipple while the other was massaged by his large hand. Every movement of his tongue, every playful pinch of his forefinger and thumb against your sensitive skin was sending lightning bolts straight down to your heat.

Jungkook’s mouth left your breast with an audible “pop!” since he sucked the flesh as he pulled away, switching his efforts to the neglected side, this time mixing it up by grazing his teeth ever so softly along the most sensitive part. Soft whimpers left you and you effectively became putty in his hands... and mouth. His tongue darted out to give a final flick against your sensitive bud before his hot kisses descended south. He kissed along the expanse of your stomach, slowly working his way down, sucking and nibbling as he went to leave small bruises dotted over your skin. He flipped your skirt up, exposing the lacy white panties that had been taunting him for hours, and the dark wet patch where your arousal soaked through them. Jungkook let out a growl, ripping the ivory fabric from your body and tossing it aside, revealing your pussy to him.

“So fucking beautiful. Better than I’d imagined.” He praised.

Without warning, his tongue darted out and swiped along your folds. Your knees buckled but Jungkook’s strong arms held you up, hands on either of your hips to keep you still and pressed against the wall while he worked his tongue along your slit then against your throbbing clit.

“Shit!” You cried out, body jolting forward and hands coming to rest on his shoulders when his plump lips wrapped around the sensitive bundle and sucked harshly.

Jungkook showed no mercy, devouring your cunt like it was his death row meal, the final wish of a man with nothing to lose. He lapped at your juices as if it were the last thing he’d ever do. Your entire body was thrumming, shaking violently as your orgasm was wretched out of you with no warning.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, or a curse, you weren’t sure. The only thing you could focus on was the blinding white euphoria his tongue had shoved you headfirst into. You would’ve collapsed if Jungkook hadn’t held you up, allowing you to slowly sink to your knees to meet his posture as your body twitched and shook at the aftermath of your mind blowing high. Your breathing ragged and your eyes wide, you watched the satisfied smile appear on his angelic face. Cocky bastard. Sexy, skilled, ridiculously beautiful cocky bastard.

“Still feeling like a tease?” Jungkook asked, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he raised an eyebrow at you. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and all of his words sounded like another language at the moment.

“What?” You asked, causing him to laugh a bit at your clearly fucked out state of mind. Although the both of you were stripped down to almost nothing (save your skirt) and on your knees in the ground, it was clear who held the power between the two of you.

“You wanna taste yourself on my tongue?” He offered, already beginning to lean forward as he reached his arm out to pull your body closer to his, but you shook your head, an idea playing in the back of your head as you quickly conjured up a plan that’d have him weak and panting instead.

“I’d rather taste you on my own. Stand up.” You ordered.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your cute attempt at telling him what to do as if he hadn’t successfully put you in your place a minute or two ago. He stood nonetheless, vaguely interested in whatever you had up your sleeve. His goal was to make you suffer, but he supposed you could have a bit of fun before he fucked you brainless over that desk that sat a few feet away from the two of you.

You shifted yourself around a bit, as did he, so he now had his back pressed against the wall. You sat submissively under him, although Jungkook was anything but while he had ravaged your sweetness with his tongue.

“You’re pretty with your thighs around my face, but there’s just something about you on your knees.” Jungkook teased, his cockiness never failing to make an appearance as he ran a hand through your hair in appreciation.

You hummed to thank him, a sly smile of your own playing on your lips as you slowly lifted your small hand up to his cock. This small action alone had him tensing up completely, hissing quietly as you squeezed your hand loosely against his length repeatedly until he had to intertwine his fingers with your locks and pull your head up.

“You’d better stop unless you want to walk out of this room with my cum dripping down your face.” He warned.

You shrugged, leaning forward a bit, placing your free hand on his thigh while you stroked his cock slowly, your eyes honing in on the clear liquid that leaked from the tip of his length. You licked your lips at the thought of swiping it away with your tongue, but you weren’t supposed to give in this easily. This wasn’t a part of your plan, but you’d give anything just to keep seeing the expression of pure ecstasy on his face.

You continued to stroke him with your hand, purposely digging your nails into his thigh to see if it’d bring a reaction out of him. A shiver ran from his spine to the tips of his toes as you did this, and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips.

“You like a little pain?” You teased, narrowing your eyes at him in defiance as you stuck your tongue out, pressing it slowly against his shaft.

You licked a stripe from his balls to the angry tip, looking up at him through your lashes as you swiped the precum away like you originally intended.

It was just as salty as you expected it to be, but you didn’t mind at all. You closed your eyes as you brought your tongue back into your mouth, pressing your lips together and swallowing slowly as you allowed the taste of him to burn down your throat.

“You taste just as good as you look.” You commented seductively, pressing a chaste kiss to his cock head and swirling your tongue around it once more before you began to spread your lips over the expanse of his cock.

Now, you’d definitely had your experience with this sort of thing once or twice before, but Jungkook was big, and there was no way you were fitting your pretty mouth over all of him, no matter how desperately you wanted to. As much as you were dying to get all of him in your mouth, for your own safety and wellbeing,  you opted to use your hand to continue to apply some relief to what you couldn’t quite reach with your mouth.

“Oh, shit. That’s so good, baby.” You weren’t sure if he was just in the moment, but your heart fluttered a bit at the pet name.

You hollowed your cheeks as you struggled to take more of him into your mouth. You gagged a handful of times, but Jungkook didn’t seem to mind. He even pulled all of your hair into his hands, using it as a sort of makeshift leash as he pushed you further down onto his cock, wanting to hear you gag on him again.

You worked quickly with your mouth, alternating the flicks of your wrists with your hand to keep Jungkook guessing. He had pressed his weight fully against the wall behind him, his leg twitching occasionally whenever you ‘accidentally’ dragged your teeth along the underside of his dick, not enough to cause any real harm, just enough to ignite a spark.

“Oh my God…” He whimpered.

You did yourself the favor of looking up at him while your mouth was stuffed full, your pussy spasming at the sight. His mouth was hung open in a silent moan, his eyes were screwed shut in pleasure, and a few of his sweaty black locks were stuck to his forehead. You figured you could make him cum just like this, but you’d rather be his personal cumbucket. Was it a bit selfish? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. He looked absolutely delectable above you.

He cracked his eyes open just as you slid his cock out of your mouth, gathering up the saliva that built up while your lips were stretched around him and spitting it back out onto his manhood. You were deliberately slow with this, wanting him to feel it the moment it made contact with his head. You watched his face as your saliva spilled down onto his shaft, using this as lubrication as you continued to pump your fist against him.

You sank down further onto your knees, only able to give his balls a few licks with your tongue, and a short lived massage before you were yanked backward, head first. Your immediate reaction to this was a rough squeeze to his cock, since it was the only thing in your grasp at the moment. You let out a strangled groan as he clenched his jaw while looking down at you, cock standing at attention as he debated his next movement.

“Get the fuck up.” He commanded you, although he pulled you up off of the ground by the grip he had on your hair on his own.

He pressed your back to his chest, ensuring you felt every ripple of his muscles pressed against your naked skin. Making a path with his hand from your stomach, in between your breasts, then finally to your neck,  he held you firmly against him, so you had no space between your flushed bodies. You felt every rise and fall of his toned chest, his breathing just as ragged as yours.

“I’m going to bend you over that desk there, alright?” He whispered into your ear, his cool breath fanning over your cheek as you nodded eagerly, just wanting him to follow through with his plan instead of telling you the process. After all, actions do speak louder than words.

“When I let you go, I want you to walk over there like a good little slut and bend over. Flip that skirt up and show me your cunt. Can you do that for me?” You felt his cock twitch against your inner thigh, and you nodded again with a quiet moan.

“Go.” He let you go with one word, watching you swiftly walk over toward the desk as he took his length in his right hand and stroked it quickly while approaching you with loud, threatening footsteps.

You weren’t sure how that was possible since he didn’t have shoes on, but it only excited you further. You complied with his orders easily, pressing your cheek against the cold surface of the desk. You  hiked the skirt up a bit around your waist and wiggled your ass teasingly as you waited for him to come ravage you.

“You’re cute, but you’re so annoying.” He grunted from behind you, slapping both of your ass cheeks with his heavy hands, massaging them afterward before delivering two more harsh slaps.

“You work me up in front of a room full of people, and then try to collect your stuff afterward as if you weren’t practically begging me to use you? Bullshit.” He spanked your ass again, relishing in the way you hissed after every hit and gripped the edge of the desk tighter.

“I’m going to make a mess out of you, you know that?” He pressed his chest against your back, pushing his weight onto you as he whispered into your ear.

You nodded, his eyes scanning over the expanse of your back as his long fingers momentarily kneaded your muscles.

“What’re you waiting for, then?” You quipped, although your voice sounded a bit flat because of Jungkook’s body weight. He laughed as he pulled himself up off of you.

Silently, he grabbed his cock and lined it up with your pussy as he pressed the head against your tight hole. You moaned at this, inhaling sharply as he just barely slipped himself inside of you. You whimpered in defeat as he pulled out quickly afterward, not wanting to give you the time to savor the feeling of being stretched out by his length.

“I swear, if you wait any longer then I’m going to fuck myself on your dick.” You threatened shakily, to which he smirked at.

“Is that so?” He let go of his cock. “Be my guest, then.” He shrugged, although you couldn’t see him.

You turned around swiftly, beyond irritated at whatever game he was trying to play. You were turned on, and you wanted to be fucked silly, but he was acting like a brat.

“You know what? Fine, I will.” You challenged, looking over your shoulder at him to see the intrigued smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes, roughly grabbing his cock and pushing yourself back onto him hastily. Jungkook disapproved of this, landing a sharp slap to your right ass cheek he gripped your hips roughly. He held you securely, preventing you from sliding back any further onto his cock.

“You’d better slow down, sweetheart.” He warned shakily, his nails leaving small imprints on your skin as he moved his hands down to your ass. “I haven’t cum yet, and your little hole is so inviting.”

You gulped, although something about his threat to cum inside of you was one step closer to pushing you over the edge.

“Take it slowly. Take me in slowly, so I can feel you.” With this he let go of your ass, watching with lidded eyes as your arousal coated more than half of his manhood.

He licked his lips at this, loving the way your juices spilled onto him, and onto the desk. Perhaps he’d make you lick his cock clean afterwards. That’d be a sight to see.

Your hips stuttered before you could take the last few inches, which sent a gigantic boost to Jungkook’s ego. Of course, he knew he was big, but something about seeing you struggle to take him in fully even after you talked all of that shit previously was egging him on.

“You at your limit, baby?” He mocked you, and as soon as you tried to respond, your voice cracked.

He hummed, chuckling slightly as he slid his hands up from your ass to your back, scratching his stubby nails at your flesh before threading his fingers in your hair once more. He roughly yanked your head back with a malicious smile. Your body jolted at this, which sent the rest of his cock plunging into you in one go.

“God, that’s fucking it. Look at you, swallowing Daddy’s dick like a good girl. You look so pretty stuffed full like this.” You were incomprehensive, your entire being filled with thoughts of Jungkook pummeling your pussy out of existence.

“Not so eager to use that fucking mouth now, are you? Hm?” He asked, pulling your head back a bit further.

Your back was so arched that you could see the ceiling and a bit of his face, and this new position made it so much easier for his cock to brush against that spot that made you a mumbling mess.

“You should be ashamed, really.” He said, dropping his head down to look at your ass as he slowly began to work his hips against it. “Have you got anything to say for yourself?” You were taking him so well, but he couldn’t let his unbothered persona falter just yet.

“Well?” He let go of your hair, and you immediately dropped your head forward, your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you struggled to hold yourself up on your elbows while he ruthlessly fucked you.

“You’re s-so fucking big.” You mumbled pathetically, causing Jungkook to twitch inside of you.

“I know. You like Daddy’s big fat cock inside that tight little pussy.  Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good you feel.” He pushed one of his hands down against your back, silently telling you to press your breasts against the desk. You obeyed, hissing as your nipples hardened instantly after making contact with the cool surface.

“I like—o-oh, oh shit.” Your jaw fell slack as Jungkook began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, his expert hips moving with such sharpness that you could feel it each time he pulled back a bit to fuck himself into you again. Although you didn’t do what he asked of you, he didn’t pressure you any further, his only goal to use you as his cute little cocksleeve.

“Spread your legs for me.” You immediately moved to follow his request, unable to balance yourself on your feet now. This was no problem, as Jungkook easily took a secure grip around your waist to keep you pressed against the desk.

“You feel so good around me like that, oh shit.” Jungkook whimpered, his tongue hanging out of his mouth slightly as he jabbed his fingers into your sides and pulled you onto the tips of your toes. You were startled at the sudden change, although it allowed for him to drive deeper inside of you.

“Put your hands on the edge of the desk now. Do it right fucking now.” He growled like some sort of feral animal. You scurried to follow his orders, just as he began to slam his cock so powerfully inside of your cunt that your hips banged against the metal desk with every other thrust, and you knew there would be bruises.

“F-fuck!” You screamed, and Jungkook responded quickly by throwing his hand messily over your mouth to quiet your moans.

“Shh, Y/N. We can’t let you get caught being a little slut.” He chuckled breathlessly, short moans and growls leaving the back of his throat as he continued to piston his hips in and out of you, your ass slapping against his abdomen every time the two of you connected. You were teetering over the edge, desperately wanting to lose control underneath him.

“I’m cumming, I’m gonna c—JUNGKOOK!” You yelled out in frustration as he slipped his cock out of you.

He grunted, pushing some of the clutter on the desk away before picking you up and setting you on top of it, so he could see your face.

“One,” He said, his voice raspy which caused you to shiver, “You’re not cumming unless I get to see your face when you do. Two,” He continued, slipping himself back into you with ease due to how fucking soaked you were, “You’re not cumming until you beg for it.” He reached for one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, gripping onto it as he sustained the rapid pace of his manhood plunging into your inviting heat.

“I-I wanna cum, Daddy.” You whispered in defeat, a twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes as he was beginning to finally get you where he wanted you. You weren’t begging just yet, though, which was unfortunate for you because you wouldn’t get an orgasm, and Jungkook was going to cum inside you either way.

“You do, Princess?” He whispered back, still holding your leg while his other hand moved to the back of your head. He pressed your forehead against his, your noses bumping as Jungkook fucked you. You nodded, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes at having to hold your orgasm back.

“You aren’t begging for me, baby. Beg me to give you permission to cum on this dick.” You cried out weakly, knowing that you’d have to give in to his rules in order to achieve that sweet release. It was right in the tip of your tongue.

You placed your arms around his neck, hanging them there loosely as you gazed into his eyes, which were full of lust and carnal desire.

“Can I cum o-on your c-cock—a-ah!” You failed miserably to finish your sentence, as Jungkook began pistoning his cock inside of your cunt with such force that the desk began to screech against the ground a bit, knocking at one of the metal racks behind it.

“I’m so close to cumming, pretty girl. Talk fast.” He warned, thrusts quickly becoming unorganized. You nodded.

“Please let me cum! I-Iv’e learned my lesson, I swear I have! I’m so close Jungkook, p-please!” He grunted his approval, nodding once and delivering about a dozen more thrusts before he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, biting down on the skin there as he began to shoot rope after rope of his cum deep inside of your greedy cunt.

You came with him, your body tensing up for a few moments before your release smacked you like a bus, heavy and unapologetic.  Due to the wild fuckfest the two of you had, though, a few utensils hit the ground, and a can of paint was wobbling on the edge of the rack that the desk was smashing against a few seconds ago.  Jungkook finally lifted his head up, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He placed one final kiss to your forehead before locking eye contact with you.

“I know for a fact that was the best fuck of your life.” You laughed, shaking your head at the fact that his cocky attitude would never settle. Not even after using up (what you assumed was) all of his stamina.

You didn’t mind it, though. In fact, you were starting to grow fond of it.

“It certainly was, but look at all the—“

The can of paint gave way to the pull of gravity, and tumbled to the ground with a deafening crack, the contents of the can flying out and splattering directly onto you and Jungkook. You knew what it was as soon as it hit your skin, and you immediately wondered why someone would leave a damn can of open paint on the top shelf.

It was brief, a big splash, so neither of you really had time to react to it. When you finally lifted your head up, Jungkook’s chest was covered in black paint, as were your legs and skirt. Seriously, the one fucking day you decide to wear pink?

“—Mess. Look at all the mess.” You finished your sentence with a giggle, thankful that you kept towels in the room during your classes. It’d never come out of your skirt, but at least you could wipe it off of your skin.

Your gaze met Jungkooks and you both burst out in a fit of giggles. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, the polar opposite of the domineering man who’d just rocked your world minutes before. This Jungkook was soft, open, lighter. His laughter was the most beautiful melody that had ever graced your ears and you wouldn’t have minded listening to it for a very long time. His joy was contagious, and you couldn’t stop the goofy smile from spreading across your lips as he wrapped his arms around you in a playful hug.

Though his touch still sent electricity through you, this was different. It was sweet and gentle. You let yourself melt in his embrace, drinking in the way he made you feel so secure, so wanted. You sighed happily. You grinned mischievously then, collecting some of the paint off of the surface of the desk and wiping a thick stripe of it across his cheek. He froze in shock then glared at you, a hint of a smile playing on those gorgeous lips.

He reached out to grab you, but you were too fast, shrieking in delight as you ran away from him. Jungkook chased you around the small art studio, his laughter floating through the air like your favorite song. His arms snaked around you and he pulled you close, rubbing his cheek against yours to spread the paint over your skin. Your giggles dissolved as he placed a tender kiss to your lips.

Pulling away and placing a peck on his nose, you began pulling your clothes back on. Jungkook watched you, admiring the way your body moved, how much sweeter you were once your attitude had been properly taken care of. You smiled at him over your shoulder, and he couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever seen such a beautiful smile on any other woman. He couldn’t recall seeing another woman who even compared to you.

Then realization brought a similar smile onto his own lips, and Jungkook thought to himself, that he just might have found the one.

[bananaofswifts]

For Women's History Month 2021, GRAMMY.com is celebrating some of the women artists nominated at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards show. Today, we honor Taylor Swift, who's currently nominated for six GRAMMYs.

When we met Taylor Swift in 2006, it was immediately apparent that her songwriting approach was like ripping a page out of her diary.

"Just a boy in a Chevy truck/ That had a tendency of gettin' stuck/ On backroads at night/ And I was right there beside him all summer long/ And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone," she lamented in the first verse of her debut single, "Tim McGraw(opens in a new tab)." The way the then-16-year-old Swift could turn personal anecdotes into instantly memorable hooks mirrored the prowess of an industry veteran, appealing to more than just the teenage girls that could relate to a short-lived high school romance.

Now, nearly 15 years later, Swift has introduced another layer of intrigue with a foray into indie folk, unveiling a pair of albums, folklore and evermore, last year. Recorded entirely in isolation after the COVID-19 pandemic hit in March 2020, folklore has been widely acclaimed(opens in a new tab) as Swift's best album, touted for its intimate songwriting and cinematic dynamics; evermore has received similarly glowing reviews(opens in a new tab).

folklore was 2020's best-selling album(opens in a new tab) and earned Swift five GRAMMY nominations at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards show, including her fourth Album Of The Year nod. (evermore will be eligible for the 64th GRAMMY Awards in 2022.) As her 10 previous GRAMMY wins suggest, though, this new chapter isn't an abrupt departure for the star—it's a masterful continuation of her evolution as a singer/songwriter.

If there's one thing that Swift has proven throughout her career, it's that she refuses to be put in a box. Her ever-evolving sound took her from country darling to pop phenom to folk's newest raconteur—a transition that, on paper, seems arduous. But for Swift, it was seamless and resulted in perhaps her most defining work yet. And folklore’s radiance relies on three of Swift’s songwriting tools: heartfelt balladeering, autobiographical writing, and character-driven storytelling.

While there was always a crossover element to Swift's pop-leaning country tunes, her transition from country starlet to pop queen began with Red. The album’s lead single, the feisty breakup anthem "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together(opens in a new tab)," was Swift's first release to reach No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 (and, ironically, scoffed "indie records much cooler than mine"). She declared a full pop makeover with 2014's 1989, but the response proved that her bold move was the right one: Along with spawning three more No. 1 hits, the project won Swift her second GRAMMY for Album of the Year.

From there, 2017’s Reputation, a response to media scrutiny, and 2019’s Lover, an often bubbly exploration of all facets of affection, followed. Although they shared similarly grandiose production, Lover featured a handful of poetic ballads, including "The Archer(opens in a new tab)," a self-reflective love song that teased Swift's folk sensibilities through storybook lyrics and ambient textures.

Swift’s ballads are key in understanding the full essence of folklore. They’ve regularly marked standout moments on each of her albums, both thanks to her poignant vulnerability and rich tone. Fearless standout "White Horse" earned Swift two GRAMMYs in 2009; Red's painstaking "All Too Well" was an instant fan favorite; 1989's "This Love" and Reputation's "New Years Day" provided tenderness amid otherwise synth-heavy sounds.

The raw emotion she puts into her downtempo songs comes alive on folklore, introducing a new wave of neo-classical sonics that elevate her fanciful penmanship to an ethereal level. Whether or not Swifties saw a full indie-pop record coming—at least not yet—the shift isn't all that surprising. Folklore’s romanticized lyrics and relatively lo-fi production are arguably what many fans have been patiently waiting on.

Lyrically, the super-personal nature of Swift’s music has always captivated fans and naysayers alike; diehards and critics dissected each of her albums for its real-life subjects and hidden meanings. While she played into those conspiracies at the time—whether she was revealing names in titles like "Hey Stephen(opens in a new tab)" and "Dear John(opens in a new tab)" or scathing the other girl on "Better Than Revenge(opens in a new tab)"—even Swift herself admits that her teenage method had an expiration date.

"There was a point that I got to as a writer who only wrote very diaristic songs that [it] felt unsustainable for my future moving forward," she told Apple Music's(opens in a new tab) Zane Lowe in December of 2020. "It felt like too hot of a microscope ... On my bad days, I would feel like I was loading a cannon of clickbait when that's not what I want for my life."

That realization is what helped make folklore so memorable: Swift stripped away the drama to let her artful storytelling shine. Sure, there are occasional callbacks to personal happenings ("invisible string(opens in a new tab)" references sending her exes baby gifts and "mad woman(opens in a new tab)" alludes to her legal battle with Scott Borchetta and Scooter Braun). Still, she largely shies away from her autobiographical narratives to make way for her imagination.

"I found myself not only writing my own stories, but also writing about or from the perspective of people I've never met, people I've known, or those I wish I hadn't," Swift wrote in a letter to fans(opens in a new tab) on social media the day folklore arrived. "The lines between fantasy and reality blur and the boundaries between truth and fiction become almost indiscernible."

folklore might be her first full project dedicated to creating characters and projecting storylines, but Swift has shown a knack for fantasy from the start. Tracks like "Mary's Song (Oh My My)(opens in a new tab)" on her self-titled debut and "Starlight(opens in a new tab)" on Red saw Swift craft stories for real-life muses ("Mary's Song" was inspired by an old couple who lived next door to Swift in her childhood; "Starlight" was sparked from seeing a picture of Ethel and Bobby Kennedy as teens). Even when songs did pertain to her real life, Swift often had a way of flipping memories into whimsical metaphors, like the clever clap-back to a critic on Speak Now's "Mean(opens in a new tab)" or the rebound relationship in Reputation's "Getaway Car(opens in a new tab)."

To think that we wouldn't have folklore without a pandemic is almost surreal; it's already become such a fundamental piece of Swift’s artistic puzzle. There was no telling what may have come after the glittering "love letter to love itself” that was Lover, but it seems isolation made the singer rethink any plans she may have had.

"I just thought there are no rules anymore because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, 'How will this song sound in a stadium? How will this song sound on radio?' If you take away all the parameters, what do you make?" she told Paul McCartney in a November (opens in a new tab)Rolling Stone(opens in a new tab) interview(opens in a new tab). "And I guess the answer is folklore."

Even if she hasn’t been making indie music herself, Swift has shown an affinity for the genre over the years through curated digital playlists(opens in a new tab). Those included four songs by The National including "Dark Side of the Gym," which she references on folklore single "betty(opens in a new tab)," and "8 (Circle)" by Bon Iver, Swift's collaborator on folklore's gut-wrenching "exile(opens in a new tab)" as well as evermore’s title track. (“Exile” is one of folklore’s GRAMMY-nominated cuts, up for Best Pop Duo/Group Performance.)

The National’s guitarist Aaron Dessner co-wrote nine and produced 11 of folklore's 16 tracks, soundtracking Swift's imaginative tales with sweeping orchestration and delicate piano. Their partnership started with "cardigan(opens in a new tab)," a melancholy take on teenage love(opens in a new tab) that's up for Best Pop Solo Performance and the coveted Song of the Year. The team-up was a dream come true for Swift, a self-proclaimed National superfan and a career highlight for Dessner, who shared in an Instagram post(opens in a new tab) about folklore that he's "rarely been so inspired by someone." He sees the album as a pivotal moment for both Swift's career and pop music.

"Taylor has opened the door for artists to not feel pressure to have 'the bop,'" Dessner shared with (opens in a new tab)Billboard(opens in a new tab) in September. "To make the record that she made, while running against what is programmed in radio at the highest levels of pop music—she has kind of made an anti-pop record. And to have it be one of the most, if not the most, successful commercial releases of the year that throws the playbook out.

"I hope it gives other artists, especially lesser-known or more independent artists, a chance at the mainstream," he continued. "Maybe radio will realize that music doesn't have to sound as pushed as it has. Nobody was trying to design anything to be a hit. Obviously, Taylor has the privilege of already having a very large and dedicated audience, but I do feel like it's having a resonance beyond that."

Swift's other primary folklore collaborator was Jack Antonoff. He has been her right-hand man since they first paired up on 2013's promotional single "Sweeter Than Fiction(opens in a new tab)" (Swift referred to him as "musical family" in her folklore announcement(opens in a new tab)). Even after years of creating stadium-ready pop smashes, Antonoff said in his own folklore Instagram post(opens in a new tab), "I've never heard Taylor sing better in my life / write better."

As Swift recognizes herself, folklore ushered in a new way of thinking for the superstar that not only brings out her best, but sets a promising precedent for what's to come. "What I felt after we put out folklore was, 'Oh wow, people are into this too, this thing that feels really good for my life and my creativity,'" Swift added in her interview with Lowe. "I saw a lane for my future that was a real breakthrough moment of excitement and happiness."

Her enthusiasm is tangible on both folklore and evermore. Dubbed folklore’s sister record, evermore further expands Swift’s newfound mystical atmosphere. Much to the delight of many Swifties, the follow-up also calls back to her country beginnings on tracks like the HAIM-assisted “no body, no crime(opens in a new tab),” as well as her pop expertise on more uptempo cuts like “long story short(opens in a new tab).”

Together, the albums are a momentous reminder that Swift is a singer/songwriter first. Her wordcraft is some of the most alluring of her generation, and that’s never been lost on her music, regardless of the genre she’s exploring. But now that Swift also feels she's at her best, it’s evident folklore was just the beginning of Taylor Swift in her finest form.

[maskedjoker]

We are getting really close to the scene in lost fragment of snow that was genuinely confusing in the book, and it's the scene were everyone in the circus is killed. I think what we will probably get is a scene were mana finally ends up giving into despair after he is hit and then allen is fed to a lion.

I think that with more current info, i can say for sure that sleeve earl and mana are a hybird. This will likely cause a resurgence of sleeve earl into taking over the body and becoming whole. This only lasts for a short time however and when cross confronts him after the rest of the circus has died from the audience turning into akuma(which i suppose are implied to be constantly just around the earl and is probably one of the many reasons cross warned Allen to stay away) some exchange of words or damage causes a lots of control. This damage however also hurts mana(or potentially just being forced out off control) causing him to loose even more memories as seen when mana and Allen reunite the next day.

Now i think we can agree that sleeve earl exists as a third entity, especially since her recent art exhibit interview, as she talked about the suit being a super sophisticated golem. I think in this case as with tim and lero yhat "golem" refers to AI. Id argue with the weird phrasing like helix of life and all the biotech style that magic is more often than not just more advanced technology, and wherever the noahs came from likely was, hence why they say they only seem strong because we have become so weak. This is only further shown with innocences resemblance to machines like its gear like parts and percentage resonance.

The noah memories in general i think are some kind of AI that passes through generation lines, carrying significant portions of its past forward and then fusing with a similar person in their lineage. For example early on road would have been just road, then through some means either became an AI(or was given a piece of someone that counts as one under golem, its unclear). Regardless once connected to the noah memory, it acts like a save file and becomes more sophisticated with time. It carries each life and gives all those memories, feelings and drives to a new body. So new road would remember being road, her life and everything, but also the life they had been living up until the two combined. Over time the noah memory keeps getting larger and larger to the point new experiences are so small, relatively speaking, that it overrides much more than normal. Since they are fuzed as one being they likely cant be separated without mutually assured destruction, were the current entity will die and any remains will not be the origionals, if anything remains at all. An example of this is that tyki could not be made human by Allen I their fight i the arc, despite having a blade that should destroy only part of him. Admittedly tyki is a special case though, and more tyki backstory is needed.

Changes from body to body become more subtle, but the base, which likely has a distinct core function as seen by its response to certain tasks and ideas, remains a strong aspect. This creates an almost reincarnation like effect for them, needing to only find a new body to continue.

The suit is like this, but different. I don't know how the original earl split, but i do think that some aspect of him was placed on the suit. I would like to say its the original version of the noah memories of the earl and nea got like a brand new copy, but i actually have no idea what memories he has of being past earl so its mostly a guess. Regardless the noah actually all seem to transform in some way when they get mega pissed. Im looking at you skinn, jasdevi, and tyki/joyd. So the suit is likely that kind of thing, but way more distinct and capable of acting autonomously. Since they all have different forms it makes sense that his would also be unique. They all probably represent some inner desire related to their memory. Skinn is just rage so big angry man works fine. Jasdero and devit are bonds so they want most to be one. Tyki got all fucked up before he changed so i got nothing, but it had a heavy does of sadism, which I guess is pleasure? Taking into account that killing in horrible graphic ways is his guilty pleasure it kinda makes sense.

So because of that, this sentient AI is constantly trying to pair with half a fucking brain because nea and mana only share one brain cell. Some kind of resistance from mana or strain causes him to constantly fall ill or comatose. Now to be clear on naming, sleeve earl does not refer to themselves as adam in the mirror scene nor does he refer to mana as adam, and only uses "we" when talking to mana about being the earl. Oddly enough the earls self pronouns are we, using wagashi which is kind of like the japanese equivalent of the royal we used in europe for the entirety of the series. For the record, mana in the flashbacks uses male or single they pronouns, i don't remember if he uses boku or watashi, but he uses at least one if not both.

So from this it seems millennium earl is a title, used by whatever is paired with the suit. Adam is the original name of the noah, and is the preferred name of the current earl aside from the title.

This circumstance was likely caused by the rest of the noah, who are using the earl for something related by the pillar. His separation either by accident or by intent was likely by the hands of his family trying to keep control for their ends. This is why the current earl is called a broken puppet and has so many things around him related to acting and stage plays. He is playing a role, the red clown to allens white clown as stated in the ark arc. He even wears a mask. His memories and mind have been damaged though, therefore broken. However broken puppet for both allen and the earl could also refer to a puppet that doesnt work as a double meaning, implying they can no longer be controlled or puppeted.

It is also implied that he is still unaware of this betrayal, but it is likely nea does to some degree as it would explain why he became a traitor and killed his own family. To be clear, i dont think all of the noah know everything, and i dont think they dont actually care for the earl. It seems they still genuinely follow him to their death and see him as one of their own, especially in cases like road, tyki and wisely.

Now early i said that different generations of noah would cope woth reincarnating differently. Since the earl only died once before 7000 years ago, id say resetting to a new body with only 17 years would be just smashed flat by any algorithm with that much data. However manas feelings are still the newest, and so still have an impact even on the current earl.

Now we come to resurrecting mana. How? Why? Well i dont know. But my guess is whatever part was the memories of mana for the 20 or so years he lived, or at least his memories at death, are in allen. His curse and weird hallucinations of mana seem to suggest it. Alternatively that part of his soul may have passed on, or it fuzed with the noah memory making the origional mana part of the hive and much like tyki and his noah memories cannot be seperated. Not good regardless.

As two additional things, i want to mention that hoshino is a twin and has always been obsessed with it, so having twins in her book was inevitable. What is extra weird is hoshino was actually going to be a triplet, but either her or her sister absorbed it before birth. She has mentioned it in dgm interviews and i cant PROVE it translates to anything in the plot but its suspicious. She also still list mana, nea and the earl as distinct in every book up to date in extra novels and at the start of her books. Oh and her favorite hat for the earl right now? The one featured on the most recent chapter? Has two faces on the front that are visible, and one in the back thats hidden, and the most recent art has the back face as the only one visible, angrily staring allen down. Great art foreshadowing if im right. Its also usually sleeve earl, if not exclusively, that wear it.

The second thing is mana talking about love and drive in the most recent chapter just brings up the earl having the noah memory of love or devotion or something for me. Ive written about it before but it just seems to fit. This character is all about that from the ability to fuze loved ones together to the hearts he talks with and his drives being based on grand acts of devotion, being by their side etc. Mana also loved and adopted both and dog and a homeless child and keeps talking about how the world is so beautiful despite all the bad. The earl literally acts like the whole noah clans mom by his own words and cooks for them, and both of them go out of their way to be cartoony to break tension. The earl literally goes and buys a single red rose from a poor girl while tyki pontificate on how he doesnt act like a villain. He doesnt take an umbrella because he wants to feel the rain. He talks about how what he does is in human nature and requires a connection between two people. He is even designed with his ideal colors as red and purple with white, as well as being designed after flowers. I know this probably doesnt make sense, but its stuck in my head.

[divinelydeanna]

The Shadow

Time and time again, we may find ourselves turning down a dark road of emptiness, and self sabatoge.

 All experience /shadow work, suffering, addictions, is to make the unconscious conscious, and guide us to dive deep into new somatic territory, open new neurological pathways, to create new circuitry of self love and to experience deep intimacy.. 
 
Awareness and proper framing of what's going on is crucial.
The 'Psychic Winds of Change' blow through our Minds can be crazy fast and volatile , and at any moment may not be showing any signs of slowing down just yet. 

Exploring Unchartered territory , spiritual healing modalities, can open new neurological pathways , create new circuitry of self love and to experience deep intimacy if we are willing to do the work. Otherwise it is spiritual bypassing. 


We all have demons inside us. Every day, we fight against them – sometimes we lose, sometimes we win.

These demons haunting us can be seen either in small glimpses or in full chaos. And because of our guilt and shame, we tend to ignore and bury them.

We think that they should stay hidden because they cannot and should not exist in our conscious self. The society tells us to focus on the good things like love and light, but never the darkness or shadow.

However, when we focus only on the “light”, it doesn’t reach to the depths of our being. It just feels like superficially hanging on a warm and fuzzy thing.

“Positive thinking is simply the philosophy of hypocrisy – to give it the right name. When you are feeling like crying, it teaches you to sing. You can manage if you try, but those repressed tears will come out at some point, in some situation. There is a limitation to repression. And the song that you were singing was absolutely meaningless; you were not feeling it, it was not born out of your heart.” – Osho

Inside every one of us are darker problems that exist. In order to touch the very depths of our being, we must be ready to explore our buried self through shadow work.

Here are the basic things you need to know about shadow work:

Beneath the social mask we wear every day, we have a hidden shadow side: an impulsive, wounded, sad, or isolated part that we generally try to ignore. The Shadow can be a source of emotional richness and vitality, and acknowledging it can be a pathway to healing and an authentic life. – Steve Wolf

First, we must define what is a “shadow”.

In the field of psychology, a shadow is a term used to refer to the parts within us that we may try to hide or deny. The name was originally coined and explored by Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, Carl Jung.

It comprises of the aspects of our personality that we tend to deem shameful, unacceptable, ugly. It can be envy, jealousy, rage, lust, desire for power or the wounds incurred in childhood – all of those we keep hidden. Jung believes that when the human Shadow is shunned, it tends to sabotage our lives. Repressing or suppressing one’s shadow can result in addictions, low self-esteem, mental illness, chronic illnesses, and various neuroses.

“Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.”– Carl Jung

You can learn to identify and work with your shadow self so that you can reach your goals and live your best life.

For many people, denying their inner self is the path they usually choose, but as you’ll see here, we are big fans of accepting who you really are and working with that, while choosing strategic thoughts and emotions in order to continue to move forward. Transformation, which so many of us are looking for, does not come from a place of denial. It comes from a place of acceptance. While you might not think it is possible to find your way to the “dark side” and come out a better person, we are here to tell you, it is.

“Man needs difficulties; they are necessary for health.” – Carl Jung

Here are 8 ways to practice shadow work:

1. Believe you are worthy and that things will get better

The first step in overcoming your shadow self and taking back your life is to acknowledge that you are worthy of good things.

When we are feeling low it is easy to continue to feel that way. Humans have an uncanny ability to feel sorry for themselves, and sometimes that is all we want to do and it serves its purpose.

But sometimes, that self-pity takes hold of us and makes it very difficult for us to get out of the rut and get back to our normal routines, or even better, our best self.

The key is learning to love yourself.

However, in this day and age practicing self love is hard.

Why?

Because society conditions us to find ourselves through our relationships with others. That the true path to happiness and fulfillment is to find love with someone else

I recently came to understand that this is an extremely unhelpful standard.

People living regular lives

What I discovered is that the relationship I have with myself is mirrored in my relationship with others. Therefore, it was very important for me to develop a better relationship with myself.

“If you do not respect your whole, you cannot expect to be respected as well. Don’t let your partner love a lie, an expectation. Trust yourself. Bet on yourself. If you do this, you will be opening yourself to be really loved. It’s the only way to find real, solid love in your life.”

2. Pay attention to the emotions you feel

No emotions are bad.

Our negative emotions are portals into the shadow. They help us determine our wounds and fears.

When you feel an emotion, take a minute to examine it. Ask yourself the following questions:

What am I feeling?

Why am I feeling this?

Wait for answers.

Don’t be frustrated if the answers do not come right away. Sometimes, the answers need time to be found and you’ll know it.

Never force answers and jump into conclusion because they might be the wrong ones. Shadow work is considered soul work and it happens on its own timeline. Just be patient and know that in time, the answers will come.

This steps simply means to accept what comes up for you, when it comes up, and acknowledge that you are an emotional being that may, from time to time, find it difficult to manage your emotions.

If you are working to tame your shadow self, then you’ll be paying attention to these moments so that you can stay with them, rather than try to run from them.

So many people simply want to feel better in the moments where we feel the greatest amount of discomfort, but if we can stay with our emotions, name them and be grateful for them, we can overcome them and move on to better things.

The better life is not created by not experiencing those emotions, but by experiencing all of them with gratitude.

RELATED: I was deeply unhappy…then I discovered this one Buddhist teaching

3. Identify the shadow

Our shadows are located in our subconscious. We buried them there that’s why it’s tricky to identify it.

n order to perform shadow work, we need to identify the shadow. The first step is to become aware of the recurrent feelings that you always feel. Identifying these patterns will help highlight the shadow.

Some common shadow beliefs are:

I am not good enough.

I am unloveable.

I am flawed.

My feelings are not valid.

I must take care of everyone around me.

Why can’t I just be normal just like others?

4. Investigate your feelings objectively and with compassion

t’s hard to do shadow work objectively and with compassion. It’s easier to investigate and blame other people why you end up that way.

On the other hand, understanding why the people who hurt you acted in a particular way is hard to accept. But in order to heal ourselves, we must forgive those who hurt us in order to move on.

Try to navigate that they did the best they could do at that time or were simply acting from their own wounds.

It’s also easy to feel bad about yourself for having these negative feelings. But there’s no reason to feel bad. We all experience negative emotions. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t.

It’s important to accept our negative emotions and be okay with them.

According to philosopher Alan Watts, Carl Jung was the kind of man who could feel something negative and not be ashamed about it:

“[Jung] was the sort of man who could feel anxious and afraid and guilty without being ashamed of feeling this way. In other words, he understood that an integrated person is not a person who has simply eliminated the sense of guilt or the sense of anxiety from his life – who is fearless and wooden and kind of sage of stone. He is a person who feels all these things, but has no recriminations against himself for feeling them.” – Alan Watts

5. Focusing on your breathing

How much attention do you pay to the way you breathe?

If you’re like most people, then probably not a lot. We usually just let our body do the job and completely forget about it.

I think this is one of our biggest mistakes.

Because when you breathe, you produce energy for your body and psyche. This has a direct connection to your sleep, digestion, heart, muscles, nervous system, brain and mood.

But the quality of your breathing doesn’t depend only on the quality of the air — it depends much more on how you breathe.

That’s why many spiritual traditions pay so much attention to breath. And focusing on your breathing is a key technique they use to help people explore, and ultimately conquer, their shadow self.

6. Explore the shadow

Psychologists use art therapy as a way to help patients explore their inner selves. It is because art is a great way to allow your Shadow to manifest itself. Here are some ways to express the shadow:

Journaling

When you write, it allows you to feel emotions and empty your head of the thoughts rumbling around. It’s like magic – even when you write thoughts that have no sense. Just write whatever comes to mind because you can’t do it wrong.

Write a letter

Write a letter to yourself or to those who hurt you. You don’t have to actually send the letter, just let all your feelings out.

Tell the person in mind what you feel and why you feel it. Writing a letter will validate yourself and your emotions. You can burn the letter after you write it as a symbolic release.

Meditate

In meditation, we gain insights about why we feel certain ways. It helps us understand and objectively delve deeper about our emotions, then allow ourselves to heal.

One example is forgiveness meditation. You can picture a person who hurt you in your mind and say, “May you be happy, may you be at peace, may you be free of suffering.”

Recommended reading: A spiritual master explains why you can’t meditate properly (and what to do instead)

Feel

You will never heal unless you allow yourself to face the emotion you’re scared of. So explore them, write about them and make art out of them.

To experience yourself as a whole, loved, and lovable, you need to own up to your emotions.

Dreams

Our thoughts and deepest emotions can come out in dreams, according to Jung. When you experience a dream, write down what occurred immediately so you don’t forget.

By understanding your dreams, you might understand more about yourself.

“The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.” – Carl Jung

However, Jung says that it’s important to understand that one dream by itself might not mean much, but patterns from multiple dreams might:

“An obscure dream, taken by itself, can rarely be interpreted with any certainty, so that I attach little importance to the interpretation of single dreams. With a series of dreams we can have more confidence in our interpretations, for the later dreams correct the mistakes we have made in handling those that went before. We are also better able, in a dream series, to recognize the important contents and basic themes.” – Carl Jung

Remember that the shadow thrives in secret but they are part of who you are. Bring the hidden parts of yourself to light and bathe them in self-love and acceptance.

Sometimes, the process hurts but it will make you a better person. Keep in mind: When it comes down to getting what you want, you have to not only confront your inner darkness but embrace it.

Rather than try to turn it off when you feel the shadow self-rearing its ugly head, allow yourself to feel it and be curious about it.

In some cases, you might find that it serves you, especially when you are trying to protect yourself from things that might otherwise threaten your higher self.

When you tap into your shadow self properly, it can be a powerful alter ego that can help you manage trying situations.

It’s when you let it rule your life, or pretend you don’t have a shadow self that problems persist.

7. Nurture your inner child

Our childhood traumas can be caused by the way we were parented or other people who hurt us. It can result in deep wounds that can create behavioral and emotional patterns that create our personality.

Most of the time, our childhood wounds are the most painful. They haunt us and tell us we’re not worthy of love, or that our feelings are wrong, or that we have to take care of everything because nobody was around to take care of us.

Nurturing your inner child involves traveling back in time to when you were hurt and give yourself love. You can do this by:

Go back to the time in your life when you felt most vulnerable.

It can be a scene where you got hurt or a time in your life when you felt vulnerable. Hold that image of yourself in your mind. Stay aware, taking in any messages that arise during that time.

Give the younger you compassion

While reliving the moment, give love to your younger self. Tell yourself, “I love you and I’m here for you. It will be okay, it’s not your fault and you did nothing to deserve this.” You can also give a hug to your younger self.

One thing is for sure when doing shadow work, it is uncomfortable, to say the least. Who would enjoy owning up to their flaws, weaknesses, selfishness, hate, and all the negative emotions they feel? Nobody.

But while focusing on our positive side is enjoyable and boosts our confidence, shadow work can help us grow and develop into a better version of ourselves.

Jung writes in the book Psychology and Alchemy, “There is no light without shadow and no psychic wholeness without imperfection.”

With shadow work, we become whole to live a more authentic and fulfilling life.

Recommended reading:

7 steps to heal your inner child.

Recommended Therepy : inner child Hypnotherapy, Family Constillations, Sound Healing, Earth magnetism Nature, Fasting, Mirroring, EFT, Resurecction Therepy, Heart Coherence Frequency, Deep tissue manipulation, infrared saunas, fasting, 1stSun. Kundalini Meditation , Mantras, ecstatic dance, Qi gong, vibrational machines, resurrection therepy.

Written by:DeannaCook and is free under the Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 License
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/3.0/) you may freely copy, distribute, blog, or post it anywhere, so long as the work is attributed to "deannalcook", and the text is unaltered.

[beyondconfessor]

The Infernal Contract [12/16]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: "And what does Faustus think of you?" she asked, snapping forward and grabbing Zelda's right wrist. "No, better yet, why don't you tell me what you think of him, of how high you must regard him to remove the very protection I provided."

N.B.: Also posted on AO3

Faustus delivered a modified version of his tenets, advising the school assembly with everything happening, a reversion to the traditional ways would be the only way to appease the Dark Lord.

It was a lie, but one Zelda wasn't above standing beside at this stage. There was little else she could do, and allowing some of his tenets to pass at least pacified Faustus for the moment, though they were like to stir complaints within the coven.

Witches were to pursue herbalism and other forms of healing magic before any extracurricular studies––warlocks, of course, could pursue whatever magic they desired. The other doctrines similarly followed, requesting witches to dress and act accordingly in the so-called image of Lilith, where warlocks should see their reflection in the Dark Lord.

Zelda's most considerable annoyance was that Faustus depiction of Lilith was of an otherwise helpless woman, capable of only the healing arts (as the Satanic Bible mentioned her magic explicitly only in service of Lucifer but failed to pick up the subtext between those moments). Intimately knowing the raw power that Lilith weld, especially with the higher forms of the Dark Arts, Zelda despised the comparison drawn of a woman who acutely mirrored the False God's Eve rather than that of a true Goddess capable of creating an exorcism that a witch could perform.

But Zelda knew when to bite her tongue. She had agreed to stand by and uphold the new doctrine fairly.

She may criticise it behind closed doors, maybe even lead her students to think about the Satanic Bible critically. Still, she would not openly defy the Anti-Pope. With everything going on, it would only create another problem, and she already had a few piling up.

As it was, those other problems were becoming the forefront thoughts in her mind, eclipsing that of the coven and the school. The prophecy was the most significant of her concerns, to the point she was now dreaming of reading the passage.

Zelda had gone over it a dozen times, each word to the context of each other. Prophecies were notoriously tricky. It was magic that stretched back to the early stages of most civilisations, and an imprecise one at that. Fortune-telling, tarot readings, prophecies, divination, even haruspicy were rarely used, given that their readings were often inaccurate and held a dozen vague meanings. It was why the tale of Oedipus was often a parable told to young witches who tried to peek into their future.

As it was, Mr Scratch had mentioned another prophecy in the Greendale Mines. It seemed a good idea to explore the prophecy from all angles, including one that used imagery instead of words, which was how Zelda ended up standing before the mines in the late hours of the evening, long after Faustus had retired to his room.

She stood before the mine shaft, listening as the wind howled through its tunnels. It had long been rumoured by mortals and witches alike that the mine shafts reached to the very gates of Hell. Standing here, Zelda could feel the magic crackle in the air, a magnetic draw pulling at her magic and knew why the witches had dug into the mines. It was almost like a siren song, singing out to her.

Lighting a cigarette, Zelda contemplated her strategy. She could try to summon the blasted prophecy, but it was likely that protective magic would envelop it. How the mortal children had found it, Zelda had no idea, but predictions had a way of hiding themselves until it was nearly too late to prevent it from occurring.

No, it seemed she would have to enter the mines—something she previously had no interest or plan in doing so before this evening.

"I wondered how long it would take you."

Zelda turned on her heel, looking to face Lilith. The woman stood on the outskirts of the trees, surrounded by shadows. It made the paleness of her face in the moonlight starker in contrast to her hair and clothes.

"What are you doing here?" Zelda asked, dropping her cigarette to the ground and snuffing it out before the woman had a chance to snatch it from her.

"The same thing you are, I imagine."

"I find it unlikely that we managed to cross paths here, of all places."

"Well, perhaps my arrival is not coincidental," Lilith admitted as she began walking towards her until they were side-by-side looking at the entrance to the mines. "You tripped my spell," she said and then pointed to a piece of silver string, and a bell that hung from a tree branch, likely set to summon Lilith should any person walk underneath. Though as Zelda squinted at the charm, she noticed that a single strand of hair had been tied to it, binding it to a specific person.

"Honestly," Zelda scoffed. "And just how did you know that I would come here?"

Lilith made a shrug, playing an attempt at innocence. "You mentioned another prophecy, so naturally I derived you'd eventually end up here."

"I certainly did not!"

"Oops. Then Sabrina must have mentioned it," Lilith said, her eyes flashing in mischievous amusement. Zelda looked away, glaring at the mines as she found herself regretting the fallen cigarette. She should have known that Sabrina would eventually make her way to her dearly favourite teacher and confess every secret.

Zelda would have done well to curse the memories of all the children, but it seemed that it was too late now. "Have you seen it?" she asked.

"I have. Would you like me to show you?"

Zelda wondered if there was any point. If Lilith had seen it, then there was little to be provided from herself viewing it. And yet, she knew it would haunt her if she refused. "I would."

"So be it," Lilith said before walking into the mines. She was enveloped by shadows, disappearing from all of Zelda's senses until a warm, golden light lit up the opening of the mines as she held up a lantern. Turning to face out of the mine-shaft, Lilith looked to Zelda and waited for her to follow.

"So be it," Zelda echoed. Exhaustion weighed on her shoulders as she slipped into the darkness of the mines.

There was a wet, damp smell to the tunnels and the only sound that filled the space was that of their heels clicking on the stone ground. Her shoes perhaps weren't the best footwear, but she had a steady-foot charm on all of her heels to prevent missteps (after all, a witch shouldn't stumble).

But the quiet was stifling. A considerable unease continued between them as Zelda wondered to their previous tryst and the way Lilith had looked at her when she held the book of prophecy.

Lilith had been furious, and then her eyes had looked to Zelda as if she'd discovered something quite fascinating. It weighed on Zelda's mind and sparked a strange yearning she couldn't allow herself to poke at (and yet did, like a child picking at a wound).

"Faustus has released a new set of tenets," she advised.

"Of course he has," Lilith responded. "And I take these tenets are to restrict the witches further from their ambitions to power?"

"Yes. With absolutely no consultation from the Dark Lord."

"Well, the Dark Lord is rather busy," Lilith said, there was a weariness to her voice as she said it, though there was a lazy attempted to mask it with irony.

"With Sabrina?" Zelda asked, but Lilith didn't respond.

No further words passed between them and Zelda wondered if the woman was deliberately trying to be dramatic with the silence, or if she genuinely had no biting comments to make.

Perhaps she was preparing them for some big reveal.

The tunnels twisted and sunk, and as they did, Zelda felt the pull of her magic, leading to her where she could only presume the Gates of Hell resided. Zelda's mother once spoke about how their grandmother had been digging through the hills with other local witches, seeking salvation in their Lord, until the Von Kunkle's had struck them down, causing the remaining coven to flee throughout the forest.

The mortals now owned the mines, but the magic sang out.

Lilith didn't lead her to where the magic pulled. Instead, she took a sharp turn down a shaft labelled marked with the number thirteen, and crept down a steady slope until they came to a crevice.

There she held up the lantern for Zelda to see.

"Here's your prophecy," Lilith said, with a nonchalant gesture. Zelda squinted in the dim light and looked over the artwork.

Wax candles stood scattered around the altar, their wicks snuffed, but Zelda knew they were not ordinary candles. With a snap of her fingers, the candles alit, casting warm light against the stonework (the flicker of power warming her as it did).

She looked over the artwork and felt her unease grow. From the immediate artwork, Zelda already knew it wasn't a happy prophecy.

She studied the iconography, glancing across the apparent symbolism. The picture of Sabrina was centred and definite with the crown of thorns, with little to doubt her likeness. The door represented Hell, the hanging tree representing Greendale, and as such the mortal realm. There were demons against either side, a corrupted version of cherubs, representing their guardianship of Sabrina and therefore her status as godhood (or at the very least Queen).

Zelda pulled back and crossed her arms. Likely the mosaic was not a separate prophecy, but a visual depiction of the footnote found by Mr Scratch. Which brought to question, why was the prediction a footnote?

"Someone wanted this hidden," she stated, glancing to Lilith.

"And someone wanted it found," Lilith responded. "I think we can both conclude as to who."

Zelda initial instinct was to raise suspicion against the woman herself, but it didn't marry up with her hesitation in the previous night. Lilith's fear and anger had been absolute before she attempted to conceal it with lust, and there was nothing to gain by her with Sabrina rising to the status of Queen.

Sabrina was to become something more significant, and this no less blindsided Lilith than any of them, it seemed.

Reaching out, she touched over the tiled pieces. There was a blue halo around Sabrina's head, the pigment created from crushed lapis lazuli.

"Mortals made this," Zelda said.

"What makes you think that?"

"A witch wouldn't have dyed and cut these tiles by hand," she touched over the jagged edges. There was frenzied energy to the creation as if it had compelled its artist to finish it. Drawing away, she pulled her hand back and dusted her fingers from the dirt that had accumulated over the stonework. It wasn't enchanted, but she could feel the compulsion coming from the prophecy. "And a witch would have made it much gaudier."

"I see," Lilith whispered, Zelda looked to her, catching the expression freezing as stared into the artwork, a frustration pressing in her brow before it smoothed to a neutral projection.

"What is it?" she asked.

Lilith turned and faced her, despite the composure, her eyes seemed alight with fury. "Why would a mortal depict a halo?"

"To represent holiness, her duality between mortal and..." Zelda trailed off, swallowing as she realised.

"And celestial," Lilith finished with a sharp, mirthless grin. "Perhaps the Dark Lord does not plan to marry her after all. Though I wouldn't put that past Him."

Zelda's heart sunk in her chest with the spoken revelation. Her niece, the girl she'd raised from a baby, was not her blood. "A Morningstar?" she whispered as if the Dark Lord might be in earshot (He might just be, she realised). "Surely not, she looked so much like Edward as a child."

"The Dark Lord has been known to possess men and enter their wives beds. Perhaps he obtained an offspring out of it this time."

Zelda shook her head, feeling her crossed arms tighten. Sabrina was a Spellman. She'd raised her from diapers to teens. Were she the Devil's daughter, there would have been some omen of it before her Dark Baptism, some great warning to Zelda.

Or perhaps she'd been blind to them all.

"What do we do?" Zelda asked, feeling the words slip out, a thousand smaller questions seemed to fill her mind, the fear of which beginning to grow massive and overwhelming in her head. Was she to tell Sabrina now? What did this mean for the Spellmans? Did she tell Ambrose and Hilda? Was the apocalypse to rise? Why hadn't Edward-

"What do you mean 'what do we do'? We follow the Dark Lord's plan," Lilith hissed. "If this is His will so be it."

Zelda shot her a look, watching the woman's facade splinter with her scrutiny. Lilith was as unsettled as she was. As fearful for what this meant for them both. "Is this what you want?"

Lilith hesitated, her eyes staring at the mosaic. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Doesn't it?" Zelda asked. "Isn't this meant to be promised to you?"

"And what do you know of what was promised?" Lilith asked as she schooled her features, all doubts erasing from her face as if she was the very model of loyalty and devotion. "The Dark Lord grants us all that we deserve, and we are at His mercy for it. You'd be wise to heed to His will."

"Isn't Hell to be yours, since you left the Garden and found Him? Is that not what you were promised for servitude?" Zelda pushed and watched the carefully placed mask fracture further. Depths of desire sunk in Lilith's eyes, as if the very crown of Hell sat before her. "You know that this means He won't give it to you. He never planned to."

"And pray, tell how you could know of the Dark Lord's will? Of my relationship with Him?" Lilith inquired with a caustic tongue. "You're just some witch who's first marriage soured before she finished her vows."

Zelda flinched at the venom, and before she could think better of it, she was snarling back, "At least I got my crown, you'll only ever be a handmaiden to Him."

Lilith grinned at her, but there was no amusement in her eyes. Only a sharp coldness that reminded Zelda that she was not just speaking with any witch. "And what does Faustus think of you?" she asked, snapping forward and grabbing Zelda's right wrist. "No, better yet, why don't you tell me what you think of him, of how high you must regard him to remove the very protection I provided."

Zelda tried to tug her hand out of Lilith's grip, only to feel the grip tighten as she was pulled forward towards the woman, barely a breath away.

"It was stolen," Zelda hissed. "I wouldn't have––" but she stopped herself from admitting any further. She could feel her chest tightening, a fear that she said too much to the woman already.

A strange look passed over Lilith's face, a hunger as she touched over the bare finger. "Do you love him?"

"No, I don't love him."

"Do you wish he was me?"

Zelda pressed her lips shut, refusing to answer such a question (and admit the truth). But the answer must have been as apparent as the moon in a cloudless night because Lilith eyes filled with mirth and then laughter was rupturing from between the red lips. "Oh, I see."

"You certainly do not!" Zelda said, finally snapping her hand away before her heels caught against a loose stone and tripped her backwards. She hit the wall of the tunnel. Her head thudded against the rock, stunning her long enough for Lilith to press against her.

Hissing from the pain, Zelda pushed herself to stand taller and not allow the intimidation to affect her as she looked into the woman's eyes (appearing silver in the dim lighting) and felt her anger ease, waiting for the next moment. She wanted to slap her, push her away with the same overwhelming desire to kiss her and draw her close against herself.

Instead, she remained frozen in place.

"You desire me, Zelda Spellman. I think you might even care for me."

Zelda's body shivered at the way Lilith said her name, but the anger returned at the accurate presumptions placed forward. "You may think quite highly of yourself, but outside of our tryst, I barely think of you at all," she lied.

"Not at all?"

"Not the slightest," Zelda sneered, feeling the woman's hands slide over her waist and down her hips.

"Not even in the sleepless nights?" Lilith asked as she leant forward. "When you're biting your tongue to hold back your gasps, as you lie in the guest room of your own home?"

Zelda felt the lips graze close to hers, the hands gripping at her hips in anticipation. "Are you spying on me, Lilith?"

"No," Lilith said, "But you're adjurations have a way of finding me."  

"I have spoken of no such thing," Zelda hissed, and then the woman's lips had moved to her ear, and Lilith's body was pressing against her. She heard her draw a slow intake of breath, the fingers curling against the material of Zelda's clothes.

And then Lilith keened in her ear, as if on the very edge of arousal.

Zelda felt her body still; her eyes flutter shut as the moan had more of an effect on her than it should, causing a sudden heat to glow warm in her belly.

But the exhibition didn't cease there. Lilith's lips touched over cheek before she began to repeat verbatim the very abjurations Zelda had solely whispered to the shadows of her room, between her sheets.

A part of her had known that it might reach her ears. After all, their contract had begun with a wishfully spoken prayer. If she was honest with herself, perhaps she'd even hoped that they would.

And yet to hear them. Feel the words in the exhale of breath was an entirely different thing. Zelda felt herself swallow thickly, her own hands turning to fists at her side as she tried to prevent herself from grabbing at the woman.

Lilith's gasps were hot in her ear, the words broken-up by sharp pants and moans meant to imitate her own, but if Lilith intended to mock her, they had an adverse reaction.

As Zelda felt Lilith begin to hitch up her dress, she turned her head, having enough of the performance. She tilted forward and caught the woman's lips, enjoying how Lilith anticipated it, snagging her tongue between her teeth, before letting it go with a laugh.

There was a mania about it as if Lilith was unravelling before her, eager to distract and pretend that this was just another tryst as she slid Zelda's underwear down her thighs and kissed her again with feverish temperament. Zelda responded in kind because the world was going to end, but it hadn't yet, and this might be their last moment together before it all fell apart.

The truth was that Sabrina was to be snatched away, and they were to return to their respected men, loyal and obedient with these changes. They had lost everything they'd built and worked towards. More than that, a deeper part of Zelda reminded her that this would be the end of them both. Their relationship could not continue if the new world order occurred. Lilith was to be Lucifer's handmaiden, and Zelda was to be Faustus' wife. They would become ships in the night.

Zelda tugged at Lilith's dress, undoing the zipper and slipping it down the woman's body before she drew her close again.

Her skin was warm against her own. If she held her close enough, it felt like time would stretch. That there was no home to return to, no encroaching deadlines, no prophecies of Nephilim children.

There was only the here and now. Only Lilith.

And yet her heart felt like it was breaking.

It ached to know that everything that had seemed so close in grasp was now disappearing from her sights, that Faustus would rule with an iron fist, squeezing every witch of their free will as the Dark Lord turned a blind eye to mould Sabrina into his Queen.

The Spellman family would be burned, Leticia and Prudence would be used and discarded at will, and Judas would be shaped into the perfect son with no mind of his own.

Where was Lilith to go?

Lilith nipped at her throat, snapping her back into the moment. In the dimness of the mines, she could see the woman's glare, demanding her attention.

She kissed at the woman's shoulder, slipping her hand under the lace underwear and touching over Liliths slit as she was fucked in return. The sex was frenziedness, building in a desperate need to touch and be touched and forget everything else.

And with it, Zelda wondered if the Dark Lord touched Lilith with the intent to admire and worship, or if He just consumed until there was nothing of Lilith left but a hollow version of herself?

Was that her path too, with Faustus, to bend until she snapped?

Zelda felt her anger grow again, a fury building in her as Lilith's mouth kissed down her throat.

"It matters," Zelda told her. "It matters what you want."

Lilith paused, pulling away to look at her in the darkness. "Zelda-" she whispered, the name purring as a warning to remind her of just how close to Hell they were.

"It matters to me," she urged. "Lilith, please, whatever you think of this, of me and everything else. It matters. Whatever it is that you want, I swear it, I'll abide by your will, even if it's to strike––"

Lilith kissed her mouth, hard and bruising to silence her. If the Dark Lord heard her, understood what she was proposing, they would be eviscerated for their seditious remarks. Perhaps it had been foolish for her to say it, but she wanted (needed) Lilith to know that they were more than the roles they played.

Lilith's hand came to her throat, wrapping around it tight enough that Zelda could barely draw her breath as she felt the woman's mouth move away from hers.

Then, very quietly, Lilith whispered, "I don't want your obedience, Zelda. It would ruin you. Do you understand?"

The hand eased, and as Zelda drew in a breath, she asked, "And what of your ruination?"

Lilith smiled in the dark. "It happened long ago." Zelda went to argue, only for Lilith's fingers to touch against her lips. "Forget your words, and be mine for this moment. Then we can separate to our own lives."

Zelda swallowed, understanding the subtext. Despite how it ached in her chest, this was to be their last time together.

Lilith's hand slipped under her jaw and tilted her head as she pressed forward and kissed her again. It was sweet, gentle, and then it grew with a passion, not unlike that evening in the moonlight that seemed so long ago. A yearning build in her chest, and all Zelda wanted was Lilith.

Their moments together were ending, and Zelda wished she could translate the growing need inside of into words, but it was all she could to do to kiss and not drown in the woman's touch. As Lilith kissed her, Zelda followed, stroking over the woman's sex in an attempt to appease her. It wasn't obedience she offered but something else. Something sacrilegious.

It wasn't enough. Zelda pulled away and dropped to her knees, grabbing Lillith's hips and tugging her to her mouth as she tore the lace down her legs.

"Zelda," Lilith coaxed, fingers drawing through her hair. The way she said her name was like a sigh, summoning something from the recesses of Zelda's mind. She couldn't see her face in the darkness, but she could feel the woman's legs shake and ease underneath her hands. Feel her rock over her tongue, fingers curling into her hair.

And then, for the first time, Lilith stopped holding back her vocalisation. For the first time, her moans rose (slowly at first, and then loud and unrestrained), echoing through the tunnels of the mines as she repeated Zelda's name over and over.

Never had her name sounded so sweet on someone's tongue (and she'd heard it spoken by many lovers).

Zelda didn't know if it was a reward for what she said or a distraction from their seditions, but the way the woman's fingers curled in her hair, the way her body trembled unlike a performance and more like unbridled eagerness, felt primal. It made her magic spark and reach out, and made the night stretch for a little longer.

It felt...

Zelda felt the word hush quietly in her mind, feeling centuries of propriety and religious education warn her against the very idea of thinking it.

...but it felt sacred in the way the satanic magic didn't.

Holy.

And with her perdition in mind, she thought to herself that Lilith tasted divine.

[good-doctor-imagine]

Sleepover (Bill Denbrough)

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Reader

Summary: It’s just another sleepover at Bill’s house until you suddenly get a visitor.

Warning: fear of asphyxiation?

Word Count: 1600+

“Promise me both of you will be responsible?” Bill’s dad said, giving a pointed look to Bill. Although it sounded more like a question, it was obvious that it was supposed to be interpreted as an affirmative statement.

“O-Of c-course dad,” Bill responded quite quickly. Under normal circumstances, Bill would have asked him directly why he was so focused on him in that situation. Heck, you were here too, weren’t you? It takes two people to tango. But, he was too nervous that it would push his dad over the edge since he found another hidden model of the sewages in the garage earlier that day. 

You simply smiled at Bill’s mom and dad as they left, telling them to take time to enjoy their dinner plans. Looking back on it, it may have been misconstrued as a promiscuous statement, but you honestly had nothing planned.

Bill’s parents didn’t care that much, knowing that the two of you were harmless. You and Bill have had so many sleepovers that you lost count after 15. That was mostly because you were 7 when you started to have sleepovers with Bill. It helped that you two lived just a few houses away from each other so spontaneous sleepovers were quite common.

This one was no different, you and Bill would sit around either watching a bit of television or have a contest about creating the best story within specific time limit (which Bill won just about every time). You two were lounging in the living room, eyes scanning over the TV screen with really no interest but you didn’t know what else to do.

“H-Hey if you w-w-want to, we c-can play s-s-some board games.”

You nodded excitedly, able to finally break yourself from the lucid state that the TV put you in. “Do you mind if I go change though?” You asked, eyes following Bill as he started to head towards the cabinet where they stored all of their games.

“O-Of c-course not,” Bill answered, “Y-Y-You can c-change in my r-room if you want.”

“Thanks Bill!”

You quickly grabbed your bag and ran up the stairs, stopping once you got to his door. Carefully, you opened the door, peeking around at his stuff. Even though you both hang out a lot, coming into his room alone feels a bit awkward.

Nonetheless, you shut the door behind you, not caring to lock the door because you wouldn’t think Bill would randomly open the door unannounced. Your bag makes a thump sound when it hits the ground, mainly because you brought some stuff of your own: books, art supplies, notebooks, and really anything you thought was interesting.

You sifted through the stuff in your backpack, yanking our your clothes from the bottom when you freeze. Holding your breath, you slowly look up at the mirror that was sat in front of you on the wall, only to be met with your own reflection. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the tiredness that you acquired from zoning out downstairs. For a second, you thought you saw Georgie standing behind you in the mirror. It was outrageous, you knew that, but something about it seemed so real. It was like you could feel his presence behind you.

You shiver, shaking your hands once your clothes are out of your bag to hopefully dry off the sweat that started to collect on them. Your mind was playing tricks on you, there was no Georgie, you’re the only person in Bill’s room.

“Stop trying to freak yourself out,” You grumble out loud, pulling your shirt over your head. When you replaced it with your pajama shirt, you swallowed thickly. Your eyebrows drew together as you reached up for your neck. You could have sworn that the neck on your shirt wasn’t this tight. Feeling your neck, you were even more puzzled when you weren’t met with any material at all. Your shirt hung a bit lower than your neck line, giving you space to breathe. However, something was wrong, you felt some kind of pressure on your neck. It wasn’t suffocating you, but it was beginning to freak you out a bit.

When you reached down for your pants, your hands instantly cling to your neck, your body desperately trying to breathe in. You take it back now, something was choking you. In a state of panic, your mind wracked for a reason as to why this was happening: did you eat something you were allergic to? No, most definitely not. Now, with more pressure against your trachea, you could practically feel the fingertips of someone digging into your skin.

You fell to the ground, desperately clawing at your throat to get whoever’s hands were on you off, but there was nothing there. Your eyes darted to the mirror to see you choking, your face was red and your lungs felt like they were ready to tear themselves to pieces, but nobody was there.

In terror, you started to bang the floor as loud as you could, hoping that Bill would be able to hear you. You felt like you were seconds away from passing out and possibly dying.

“Y/N?” Bill’s voice appeared on the other side of the door, “Are you okay?”

Your mind was foggy, your head becoming heavy as you lay down on your back. You, however, were not going to back down. Using whatever energy you had left, you picked up your foot and started banging it on Bill’s wall, not caring if you were to put a hole through it. This was a matter of life or death.

Hearing the commotion, Bill frantically opened the door, his heart beating wildly. He’s never heard you act like this so he knew something had to be wrong.

As soon as Bill opened the door, the hands on your throat were gone, leaving you gasping desperately for air. You couldn’t feel much at that moment, you were just about frozen with horror. Asphyxiation was one of your worst fears and you felt like you were still going to die from it, even if the hands around your throat disappeared.

Bill sprinted by your side, falling to the ground next to you, desperately scanning over you for any sign of injuries. Excluding the fact that you looked like you were on the verge of a panic attack, Bill concluded that there was nothing physically wrong with you. Carefully, Bill tried to wipe a tear from your cheek, only for you to violently flinch away, scared of anything touching your body.

“Y/N,” Bill said softly, “You need to breathe with me.”

You wanted to scream at him that you were breathing, but it wasn’t supplying enough oxygen to make up for the moments you lost. This made you cry even more, which, in turn, worsened your ability to breathe.

Bill, not sure what to do, grabbed your hand and set it on his chest, taking deep breaths, trying to instruct you to try to as well. He hoped that he was doing it right, at least that’s what the books told him to do.

Desperate to keep your heart in your chest, you tried your best to meet Bill’s slow inhales and exhales. It was difficult, especially because you were more or less sobbing, but you eventually got to the place where you could process what was happening around you.

Feeling this, Bill mentally thanked all of the books he read, knowing that if he never came across them, he would have been clueless about what to do. This, however, was not a time of rejoicing. You were still crying and your body was shaking all over. Bill gently rubbed the back of your hand that was on his chest, still trying to stick to his breathing exercises in fear of you going back to your old state.

When you could actually breathe, Bill asked you if you were okay, which you nodded to out of habit.

“Sorry,” You choked out, bringing the hand that he didn’t have a hold of up to your face, trying to wipe your face of the tears you shed.

Bill didn’t say anything, he just watched you, clinging onto your hand. When you felt brave enough, you took some time to scan the room,  making sure that there was nothing that looked out of place in the off chance that there was something in the room with you two. You couldn’t find anything, thought, so you lay your head back down with a sigh.

Bill hesitated, not sure if he should ask you what happened or not, but deciding that he should probably try to understand what happened. “Y-Y-You don’t h-have to feel p-p-pressured but w-what just h-happened?”

You swallowed, slightly wincing at the pain. “I- There was something choking me.”

“C-Choking you?”

You nodded, bringing your hand up to your throat. “Are there any fingerprints?” You asked, stretching your neck out so Bill could get a good look.

“N-No,” He replied, finally moving your hand that he still had away from your chest and holding it in your lap.

Of course there isn’t, he probably thinks you’re crazy now. “Bill, I-I swear I’m not lying but there was someone choking me. I felt it.”

Bill’s mind traveled to a few short days ago when he saw Georgie in the basement. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, your incident probably had to do with the same thing.

“I-I believe you,” Bill assures you, squeezing your hand. Not sure what to do, Bill asked, “W-Would you like t-t-to go d-downstairs and watch a m-m-movie?”

You agreed to watch a movie, knowing that you were too stressed to try to play a board game. Halfway through the movie, though, you fell asleep, right on top of Bill’s shoulder.

[skaylanphear]

Cry of the Siren

Summary: Marinette considers herself a different sort of pirate, what with her having morals and a just cause. While Adrien doesn't much fit into the expectations his people have of mermaids such as himself. Backed into a corner by an arranged marriage, he leaves his home behind to brave the open sea, only for a dire injury to leave him stranded on human shores. And so when Marinette finds him and hauls him aboard her ship, he finds himself trapped in a world far removed from his own.

But perhaps the sea carried them together for a reason. Fate, after all, is never clear-cut, nor easily read.

Art by @salty-french-fry (sorry the quality is so bad--tumblr sucks. Hopefully we’ll have a better quality pic on AO3 in a few days)

Read on AO3

Chapter I

"Grandfather, when will mother and father be back?" Standing in the crooked doorway, the young girl frowned, her hands balled into fists around her dirtied skirts. Before her, a small man with salt and pepper hair and a finely-trimmed, pointed beard was observing a map, which was laid upon a thick, wooden table.

Turning his attention to the girl, he smiled. It was a warm smile, if not somewhat restrained, and was invitation enough for the young girl to approach him.

"They'll be back in due time, young Marinette," he assured, reaching out to her as he did. She took his hand when she met him, allowing him to pull her up into his lap. "Your mother is a very important woman and she has much to do."

"But what about Father?"

"Well, your father must help her."

Pooching her lips in a pout, Marinette twirled her finger inside the fastens upon her grandfather's jacket. "I would like to help too."

"And what help could you be?" he asked, smiling wider as he did. "You're only five years old."

"I'm seven!"

"Seven?! Why, I had no idea."

She cast him a rather flat look. "You're lying, grandfather."

"And why would I do that?"

"To distract me."

He chuckled. "You are still much too young to be of help to your mother."

"I can't understand why. I take care of you well enough."

He laughed again. "That you do."

Humming, she seemed to slump a bit in his hold, quite forlorn despite their cheery conversation.

"What does Mother do, when she and Father leave?"

The grandfather seemed to contemplate the question for some moments, seriousness overtaking his countenance. And though there was a certain degree hesitation in the way he pursed his lips, he ultimately gave in despite whatever objections were raised inside his thoughts.

Resituating Marinette upon his lap, he looked her in the eyes and was relieved to see the same steadiness in her expression that her mother had possessed at the same age.

"She has gone out to find that which we have lost," he started. "Our family line is special, do you know that?" Reaching out, he took Marinette's hand and flipped it palm-up, so he could run a gentle finger along the visible veins of her wrist. "And our blood is the key."

"Our blood?"

"A long, long time ago, one of our ancestors came upon a magic jewel. And inside that jewel was the very power that created the entire world. But there was also a spirit, and that spirit was afraid of what would happen if her power fell into the wrong hands. Sensing that our ancestor was of pure heart and mind, she tied herself to her, and through her, all her children and their children's children. All the way down to us. And because this spirit was the most powerful of them all, other spirits soon gathered to her, granting power to our ancestors and any who they deemed worthy. But!" He held up a knowing finger. "Soon, other people started to hear about these powers, and they wanted it for themselves. Afraid of what would happen, our ancestor gathered all the spirits together, swearing to hide them away and protect them."

"A guardian," Marinette replied. "Like you. And Mother."

"Yes. But the jewels—the spirits—couldn't stay hidden forever, and some of them have been lost. By the time the magic box that hid them was passed down to me, only nine of the jewels remained. But they were some of the most powerful, and I knew that if I didn't keep them safe, they'd fall into the wrong hands. So your mother and I—when she was yet younger than you—took a boat all the way from China and around the world, to a place where we could live safely with the jewels.

"But greed exists all over the world, though I tried to fight it. The jewels were stolen, and so now we must find them all, before someone uses them to do great evil."

"So Mother is looking for these jewels?"

"She is. She must."

"How does she know where to look?"

He smiled. "Because of our connection to the most powerful jewel. You can't feel it now, but when you're older, you'll learn how to sense that connection as well."

"I will?"

"Yes. As is your mother's responsibility, and as it is mine—and as it was all our ancestors before us—you must learn to use your abilities to find the jewels, to guard them, and to only use their power when wrongs must be righted and justice served."

"And then I'll be able to go with Mother and Father?"

He smiled. "Yes, I would certainly think so. It's in your blood, Marinette. You are a guardian, and so you must never rest—not until all the miraculouses have been found.

"That, my child, is your destiny."

Gasping, Marinette surged up in bed. Breathing heavily, she blinked against the thick weight yet lingering in the back of her head, the dream—or memory—seeming to shift away as swiftly as it had come. Yet, even as the exact images and words faded, the general purpose remained. Like a brand yet hot upon her flesh, she could feel the echoes of it all up and down her body. All the way down to her bones.

She would not be able to return to sleep, not this night. Blinking a few more times, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness before she tossed her blanket aside and threw her legs over the edge of her bed. Clad in only her loose-fitting linen shirt, she toed forward to the table in the center of her quarters, retrieving the breeches hung over the back of a chair before slipping them on. Tucking her shirt clumsily inside the band, she barely bothered to tighten them before stuffing her feet in her worn leather boots and marching out the door.

Accustomed to the layout of the brig and the motion of the sea, she quickly made her way through the dark. Just down the main deck, before rounding the stairs and heading up into the chilly night.

Salty sea air assaulted her full force, but she was so accustomed to it after years at sea that she hardly registered the feeling. Ignoring how the wind tossed her hair about, she headed across the upper deck to the stairs that led up to the forecastle. Once there, she headed to the upper right side, to the thick, wooden banister lining the bow of the brig. Leaning out, she took a deep breath of the salty air and closed her eyes.

The feelings inspired by her dream yet lingered, but they were fading fast. So fast that she feared she would be unable to dissect them. But such a thing was not unheard of, despite it causing her some annoyance. Though she had worn the ladybug earrings for 'years now, her connection to the miraculouses as a whole waned in and out, much as the tide did.

It was her job to make the most of whatever she happened to sense, no matter the time of day or night.

"Captain?" The voice had her popping her eyes open again, turning her head over her shoulder. There stood Alya, her best friend and quartermaster of the brig. "Is everything alright?"

Turning back to the sea, Marinette pursed her lips. "Someone has come across a miraculous. Two, I think, based on the heaviness of my dreams."

Alya came up beside her, crossing her arms over her chest as she frowned. "Then someone has beat us to them."

"We didn't have any leads," Marinette said, doing her best to hide her bitterness. "It was only a matter of time."

"Perhaps they will become known to us, then," Alya reasoned. "Much as Luka did. The miraculouses are drawn to each other, are they not? To you?"

"Drawn in, yes, but to what end we can't know." Sighing, Marinette stepped back from the banister. "We will have to keep a keen eye out—there's no way of knowing whose hands these miraculouses have fallen into, or in what… manner… they may make themselves known to us."

"You think it could be that Hawkmoth has found them?"

Pursing her lips, Marinette turned her attention back to the sea. "Let us hope that is not the case, else we will find ourselves at a grave disadvantage."

One that could prove near impossible to overcome.

oOo

Adrien was bored. Which wasn't really new, per se, but it was certainly tiresome. He knew he had a responsibility—stay inside, primp his appearance, don't get hurt. All these things would guarantee an advantageous mating. He was lucky, after all, to be as blessed with such beauty, much as his mother had been. He'd create beautiful children, no doubt, and his privileged upbringing would make him a doting father and a quiet, obedient partner.

"Blah, blah, blah," Adrien muttered, slowly sinking down in front of his full-length mirror. His qualifications for being a good mate seemed to run continuously through his head these days, but not because he had any interest in thinking about them. Alas, everyone he knew seemed to be reminding him, excited about the fact that he'd reached mating age and would soon be leaving for a new home with his future wife.

He had to be careful not to let his tail get dingy, and keep his fins sparkling at all times. He should wear more jewelry, to draw attention to himself when he was out in public. The more notice he drew, the more potential mates he'd have interested in him at the ceremony.

"Maybe I don't want a mate," he muttered, looking his reflection up and down as he did.

Aside from being male, he did indeed look very much like his mother. Soft blonde hair, bright green eyes. He was stronger than she had been, despite everyone constantly chiding him for being active when he should have been prioritizing a thin, smooth physique. Yet, his father had never stopped him taking up physical activities, so long as he'd remained within their home when he'd practiced them. He had a few more muscles where most didn't as a result, which made him a little less "desirable."

His tail and fins more than made up for that, however. Long and of a vibrant green that matched his eyes, his tail was the longest of any other siren—or long-fin—his age, while his bright, yellow fins shimmered in much the same way golden jewelry did in the water. His tail fins were dual layered and fanned out generously when he bothered to go to the effort, as could the two sets of pelvic fins that flared around his hips and the single set of fibular fins sprouting out beneath them. The bright yellow did fade to dark green at the very edges, but the dual color-scheme only made him "all the prettier."

Truth be told, however, Adrien didn't much care that he was considered the prettiest siren of his generation. Or that his quiet demeanor was one of the main personality traits people talked about.

He didn't hate that he was a siren, but he didn't enjoy it either. Sometimes—like that very evening—he'd find himself staring in the mirror, wanting nothing more than to reach down and rip his pelvic fins right off his body with his claws. Maybe shred his tail fins even. It'd be painful, sure, but if he was marred and scarred, no one would want him. He wouldn't have to worry about how dirty he got or how much jewelry he wore or if he had enough suitors. He could be like the plain sirens that married lower class merrows—short-fins. His mating ceremony wouldn't be a big deal and there wouldn't be any worry about offers being made because he'd be more worried about not having any.

As it was, he'd likely have too many, and he'd ultimately have to pick one of them.

"What are you groaning about now?" It was Plagg who asked. He was some kind of tiny, demon-like creature that claimed to be a "kwami." Adrien didn't know what a kwami was, but supposed they must all be small creatures with disproportionately large heads.

Plagg claimed that he resembled what humans called a "cat," but as Adrien had never seen a cat, he couldn't much relate.

The kwami had appeared from a ring Adrien had found, and that he now wore at all times.

"It's my mating ceremony tomorrow," he explained, sinking fully down onto the ground. Laying atop the cold stone, he twisted his tail around his body and glared side-ways at his own reflection.

"What's that?" Plagg asked, swimming up so he could stare directly down into Adrien's eyes. It was a regular thing, Plagg invading Adrien's space.

Not that he minded.

"I'm eighteen now," he said, turning so he could stare blankly up at the domed ceiling of his bedroom. "It means I'm old enough to be mated. And because my father is so highly regarded, it's important that I pick someone suited to my status."

"Doesn't sound so bad," Plagg decided. "I bet there'll be plenty of girls with fins prettier than yours just dying to get with you."

Adrien cast the black kwami a curious look. "Doubtful. Why would another siren be allowed to mate with me?"

"Is that not how it works?"

Adrien curled his nose. "No. I'll be paraded around like some… pretty trinket. All the female merrows will be swarming just to get a look at me, and I'll have to smile and pretend like I'm enjoying it."

"Wait, so…" Plagg twitched his head to the side thoughtfully, "it doesn't matter that you're a boy?"

"Why would me being a boy have anything to do with it?"

"That's just how humans are," Plagg explained, shrugging his tiny shoulders as he did. "It's their women that have to look pretty and pristine in order to be married off."

Adrien scowled. "Boy or girl doesn't matter. I'm a siren—a long-fin; a soft-fin. It's in the title—I'm soft. And pretty. And delicate. And demure. A fine prize for some warrior female to keep tucked away in her home to care for her eggs and prepare meals and, ugh, just… be bored for the rest of my life." Except when his wife was there, because he'd be expected to serve her and do as she said and submit himself both body and mind.

He didn't want to submit himself. He was…

Afraid.

"Huh, okay. I guess I get it," Plagg replied. "Well, can't you just refuse anyone you don't like?"

"No," Adrien muttered. "My father has already received three letters of purpose from upstanding families whose daughters are interested. They're all in line to be future mertriarchs. One of them might even end up leading the whole clan. It's a great 'honor' that such important merrows would be interested in me. It's because I'm so 'beautiful.' The perfect ornament for someone's home. If I refuse them all, it'll come off like I'm some stuck-up brat, which will diminish my prospects and could even hurt my father's reputation."

"Sounds like you're between a rock and a hard place, kid."

"I don't want to be mated…" What if he ended up with a wife that, while wealthy, was… cruel? He knew it happened, even if it wasn't much talked about. Sirens were expected to mind their mates. His wife would have the legal right to hurt him, even kill him if she so wanted. His life didn't mean anything more than the value of how pretty he could look beside her. And the number of both strong and beautiful babies he could provide.

Some sirens hardly ever left the home because they were constantly incubating eggs. Some weren't allowed to leave even if they weren't.

He'd be expected to consummate their union after he chose a mate. By doing so, he officially became his wife's responsibility. Her property. He'd be marked by her for life, both societally and physically.

Just like his mother had become his father's property.

And if he refused a mate, he'd inevitably end up homeless. When his father died, all his assets would go to the closest living merrow in their family, and Adrien would have nowhere safe to go.

"But you don't have a choice," Plagg determined.

"No, not really," Adrien agreed. Pushing himself up off the ground, he glided up through the water to his pod, which was nestled in the upper corner of the room. Curling up inside of it, he set his focus on the thin windows on the opposite side of the room, which gave him a view of the city beyond. It glittered this late in the evening, aglow with the hazy blue light of blooming crystals.

"You must have some freedom," Plagg said as he swam up beside him. "You found me in that ship wreck."

"Sneaking out in the middle of the night once every few weeks isn't freedom."

"True…"

Popping his lips, Adrien created a small bubble, which he then used his finger to carefully push up toward the top lip of his pod. The pod itself curled around and above him, creating a soft sort of indent where he'd been gathering bubbles for some time. While archaic in modern day, sirens had once created attractive bubble nests in order to draw in mates. Adrien was expected to be good at the skill despite its uselessness, and so he'd been creating a patch of bubbles all his own for about a weak.

Well, longer than that, really, but every few days he got frustrated at the sight and destroyed them all.

"You're going out later tonight, right?" Plagg asked.

"I want to." It could be the last night he'd ever get to leave the city. His father was oftentimes away on "business," and so it was his assistant Nathalie—another short-finned merrow—that was tasked with keeping watch over him. But merrows weren't exactly known for their child rearing abilities. So long as Adrien minded his business, she didn't much care what he was doing. Which made it easy to sneak out once he'd pretended to go to bed.

His father was home as of that night, which made the whole ordeal riskier. Yet, given the circumstances, it seemed a risk worth taking.

Just a little longer and he'd head out. It'd be strange seeing a siren out alone this late at night, so he had to wait until most of the mer-folk in the nearby homes had retired to bed. But once out of the house, it didn't take him long to reach the outskirts of the city. His father being a recluse that didn't like to be near too many others had some advantages in that respect.

"Do you… plan on taking Pollen and I to the surface?" Plagg asked.

Adrien frowned. "I told you, I've never been to the surface."

"But if you're mated, you might never get the chance again."

A reminder that Adrien didn't appreciate. He hadn't known Plagg long—he'd only found the ring that housed the kwami about a month beforehand—but he'd become somewhat protective of his secret treasure. He didn't want to give up his miraculous, even if it wasn't really meant for him to have.

"Listen, kid, I don't mind being down here," Plagg continued. "Aside from the fact that you don't have cheese, I can't really complain. But fact is, we don't belong down here. We weren't created for mer-folk."

"I know…"

"I like you, Adrien, and it's nice not having to worry about… all the things I'm supposed to be worrying about. But if I don't get back to the surface, the whole of the human world could be turned upside-down."

Adrien managed a small grin. "We'd never know down here."

"While I appreciate that sentiment, my partner would have a different take on the matter."

"Your partner, huh? Who's that?"

"Don't change the subject."

Adrien sighed. "I'll try, I guess. But… like I said, I've never been to the surface. We're not supposed to. It's dangerous."

"I didn't think you were the type that'd balk at the idea of danger."

Adrien cast him a flat look, before deciding they'd waited long enough. "C'mon," he said, beckoning to the little kwami as he swam toward the top of his bedroom. "Chloe won't wait forever."

It wasn't exactly hard to sneak out of his room. It was expected that he'd never do such a thing, so it wasn't as though he'd ever been locked in. All he had to do was shift the cover to his sunning window aside—a large, circular opening that usually had a smooth slab of stone fitted inside it—and swim out.

It took him less than a minute to do so, his tail curling close to his body as he slid the stone back into place. He wanted to keep as low a profile as possible, knowing his bright colors could catch even the dim light of the blooming crystals and give him away.

Securing the stone in place, he was soon slinking down the back side of his father's multi-teared mansion, it's many rounded, stone roofs providing him adequate cover as he ducked in and out of the shadows. A few of the windows were aglow with crystals—namely his father's study—and so he actively avoided swimming nearer to those.

Soon enough, he was headed along the ocean floor just beyond the mansion. As quickly as he could, he swam into the garden of colorful anemones, which would hopefully shield his shimmering tail from anyone watching.

It was once he was through the garden and on the other side that he felt a bit of relief. His father truly did live right on the outside of the city. All he had to do was swim up the steep side of a shadowed cliff and he'd be out of the gorge where the city was generally hidden from anyone that might bother coming this deep down into the waves. At the very top of the cliff was a stretching shield of coral, which he carefully maneuvered his way through before finally coming up and out "into the open," so to speak.

"Took you long enough!" Chloe hissed as soon as he shimmied his way into sight, checking only quickly to make sure he hadn't scratched himself on the sharp coral.

She was laying down upon some bare sand between reefs, her blue eyes glaring as Adrien came to hover above her. Much the same as him, she was a siren. A beautiful siren, much as he was. Long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, her frame thin and lithe as was to be expected. Her shimmering yellow tail was nearly as long as his own, though she possessed only one set of pelvic fins. They were yellow, to match her tail, while her fibular fins started out yellow and faded to a deep, dark blue at their ends. To match her tail, which shimmered with hints of green and yellow despite its dark blue hue.

"I'm here at our regular time," Adrien said calmly, not bothered by Chloe's shortness of attitude. They'd grown up together, being from the same social class. She was the daughter of the current clan leader.

"Always making me wait," Chloe continued, puffing the sand into a cloud as she temperamentally pushed herself up into the water beside him. "You're lucky we've been friends for so long, else I'd be more offended."

"I suppose you're right," he agreed, beginning to swim further away from the cliff edge, Chloe soon falling in beside him.

"Good evening, Adrien." It was another kwami that greeted him, this one with blue eyes, a bright yellow body, and black stripes all over. She also possessed a scarf of yellow fur around her neck and two black antennae, which reminded Adrien of some of the fish that swam around at the bottom of the gorge.

"Hello, Pollen," Adrien replied, happy to throw the tiny kwami a smile. Pollen formed from the comb miraculous Adrien had found alongside his ring. Supposedly, the comb resembled a "bee," which was a land creature of some kind. But much like cats, Adrien had never seen a bee before and so couldn't verify.

She belonged to Chloe for the time being, as she'd claimed the comb when they'd come across it while investigating a ship wreck the month prior.

"Please don't tell me we're going too far out," Chloe was soon complaining. "I'm already tired and you should be getting your beauty sleep. You can't look all puffy tomorrow for your mating ceremony."

Adrien shrugged. "I don't really care about that. Besides, we have to go somewhat far. We have to get Plagg and Pollen to the surface."

A statement that had Chloe coming to an abrupt stop.

"What?" she asked, her expression having dropped into unease.

"Once I'm mated, we don't know what could happen," Adrien reasoned, turning back to her as he did. "I might never be allowed out again. We have to get them to the surface while we can."

"Or we could just not do that," Chloe rebuked smartly.

Adrien cast her a disapproving frown.

"Clearly the humans aren't looking for them. Why does it matter?"

"They don't belong here, Chlo."

"The surface is dangerous. What if there are humans up there? Or a ship? Do you know what humans do to mermaids like us? They'll catch us and string us up for our fins."

Adrien rolled his eyes. "That's all just children's stories to scare us."

"How do you know?" she asked, following him as he continued on despite her protests. "You've never been there. You've never seen it. There's a reason no one is allowed to go to the surface. We're mermaids—we don't have any reason to go up there."

"I'd like to see it," Adrien admitted. "It'd even be interesting if we were able to spot a human or two."

"Adrien!"

"I'm just kidding. Now, come on."

Despite her misgivings, Chloe continued, the two of them swimming on for some time. Until they were far enough away that even when they swam upward, into the expanse of open ocean, no one would be able to see them from the city.

"I don't know about this," Chloe said as they came to a slow stop, their attention trained up toward the surface. Truth be told, they really weren't all that far away. Perhaps two-thousand feet or so. Mermaids required sunlight to live, just as humans did, even if it was considerably less. Their city had to be within decent range of the surface as a result, even if it was well-hidden beneath a crown of coral.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Adrien reasoned. "Just look—no ships, hardly any fish." Just the vague shimmer of the moon far, far above their heads.

"But what if a ship is nearby?" she asked, sinking down into the sand as she did. Her yellow tail curled protectively around her body, giving away the height of her anxiety. "How fast do they go? What if we can't get away?"

Releasing a light sigh, Adrien sank down beside her, curling his tail around her own comfortingly. "You don't have to go if you don't want. I'll take the miraculouses up to the surface myself."

Curling her nose, she cast him a rather dubious look. "Alone? Why in the world would that be better? Or safer?"

He shrugged. "I didn't say it would be, but…" Looking up, he turned his attention to the surface again. "Who knows what could happen after tomorrow. I don't know, I guess… I guess I want to see it."

"See what?"

"Just… anything, really. The sky, the moon. The sun. I may never get the chance to see anything again after tomorrow."

Chloe frowned. "Do you really think your mate will be that bad?"

"Perhaps. I don't want to be what they think I should be. I just want…"

He couldn't articulate exactly what he was feeling, but Chloe seemed to understand nonetheless. Even if she wasn't dreading her future as much as he was, she knew his anxiety. Many other sirens did.

"You've got to have some good prospects," she reasoned. "They can't all be bad."

"There are three already trying to get ahead with my father," Adrien replied. "They've sent letters, and even gifts." He almost laughed. "And not a single one of them bothered to get in contact with me directly."

"Who were they?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask." It wouldn't make a difference anyway.

"I bet one of them was the Rossi family," Chloe said flatly. "Lila's been all over you for months. I get so tired of her hanging around every time we try to go anywhere."

Adrien hummed in agreement.

Lila Rossi was a high class warrior merrow. Her parents were well-respected border commanders and close friends with Chloe's father. She was popular, strong, and was already well-respected among the guard despite her young age.

Personally, Adrien didn't much like her. She was pushy and altogether too forward, and didn't think too highly of sirens in general, based on her attitude toward others outside of him.

"There'll be someone better," Chloe decided firmly. "You'll see. It'll all come together in the end." Taking a huffing breath, she apparently settled her nerves before reaching out and taking Adrien's arm. Together, they started to head upward, remaining close as they kept their focus on the glaring light above.

It was only when the ripples upon the surface began to come clearly into view that the two of them slowed, Chloe once again becoming uneasy as Adrien peered critically through the water, looking for any possible threat. Outside of the occasional wandering fish, however, there was little worth taking note of.

"C'mon," Adrien encouraged quietly. "We're almost there."

Nodding, Chloe stuck right beside him as they closed the remaining distance, Adrien hovering only a moment just below the surface before clenching his fists and thrusting himself up out of the water.

The night air was shocking. Cold and brisk, it was somehow sharper than breathing air through the water. His gills fanned as he took a deep breath, unaccustomed to such dryness. Though it was dark, the glare of the moon was sharp and intense, both Adrien and Chloe shying away as they blinked, attempting to adjust.

For a moment, Adrien was certain his throat was burning, his mouth feeling all too dry. He nearly dove back under. But the longer he remained above the surface, the easier it became. Until he was able to blink away the harsh light, his eyes adapting as he reached up and pushed his hair out of the way.

"What are those?" Chloe asked, Adrien following her gaze upward to the night sky.

It was steady and smooth, the moon round and bright against the blackness of the heavens. And all around it, tiny lights sparkled, twisting and twirling in unending patterns that Adrien couldn't even begin to follow.

"They're stars," he eventually realized, a grin spreading across his lips in the same moment. "Like in the old stories."

"They're so much smaller than I'd always imagined."

"They're beautiful."

For some moments, they simply floated, taking in the sky they'd never seen and likely never would again. Until, finally, Adrien's gaze fell to the horizon.

"I don't see any land," he eventually said.

"We're too far away," Plagg explained, having settled onto Adrien's shoulder.

"Well, how much further is it?" Chloe asked shortly.

Plagg threw her a glare. "How would I know?"

She growled.

"Which direction do we go?" Adrien found himself asking, though the question was more for himself than the others. Twisting in place, he tried to get some kind of idea, but the ocean stretched on for miles in every direction.

"What's that?" It was Pollen who asked, the other three looking ahead at where she was pointing her tiny paw.

Squinting, Adrien could just barely see it. A shadowed silhouette bobbing up and down upon the waves.

"Adrien." Clinging to him, Chloe crowded close. "That's a ship. We should leave. Now."

"It's so far away we can barely see it," he reasoned, attempted to squirm a bit out of her hold. "Besides, a ship means we can find land. It had to have come from somewhere, or is going somewhere, right? If we follow it, maybe—"

"Follow it?" Chloe baulked. "Adrien, what are you thinking?!"

"We don't have to get close. Besides, humans have poor eyesight at night. They'll never see us." He was trying to pull away, Chloe's well-sharpened claws digging more deeply into his arm as a result. "C'mon, before we lose sight of it."

"Adrien, no!" Chloe begged. "Let's just go back!"

"We have to get Plagg and Pollen to shore." Finally yanking his arm from her hold, he swam a bit in the direction of the ship. "It'll be alright."

Turning, he tried to cast Chloe a reassuring smile, but she just shook her head.

"I promise it'll be okay, Chlo." He held out his hand to her. "You'll see."

For a moment, it looked like she might reach out, but her nerves inevitably got the better of her. Shaking her head, she pushed back in the water before diving back under, taking the bee comb with her.

"Chloe!" Adrien called, ducking back under as well. But she was already swimming down the way they'd come, her yellow tail dimming as the shadows closed in around her.

For a moment, Adrien hung in the water, uncertain what to do. He watched Chloe until she disappeared, before turning to look in the direction of the ship.

If he didn't follow it then, he could lose track of it. And then he'd never find land.

Gritting his teeth in resolve, he burst back up above the water, looking again to the horizon where he could see the shadow drifting further away. Satisfied he knew what direction he needed to head in, he slipped back beneath the surface and took off through the water.

It was a long, strenuous journey from then on. Not wanting to lose track of the ship, he swam as fast and hard as he could, occasionally vaulting up out of the water and back in so he could make sure the ship was still there. The hours wore on, the ship only seeming to grow minutely closer all the while. He was beginning to feel a bit tired, but was thankful he'd always retained an active lifestyle.

It was probably a good thing Chloe hadn't come—she wouldn't have been able to keep up.

It was well into his third hour of travel that the sky to his right began to lighten. Which unnerved him slightly, but didn't deter him. And he grew only more determined when he finally spotted a strip of what must have been shore bulging up out of the water.

The ship was closer now—so close that he could see spikes protruding up out of it, creating "T" shapes with what looked like giant fins hanging down to catch the wind.

Supposing that was quite close enough, he monitored his speed, keeping an eye on both the ship and the land as it grew nearer.

Soon, he could see that the land was, in fact, a striking line of cliffs, water splashing violently at their bases. The ship seemed to be headed directly for them, which Adrien thought rather strange. The ship couldn't reasonably go through the cliffs, could it? Maybe it could fly over them?

Curious despite the danger, he decided to swim yet closer. Soon enough, the ship was gliding through alcove and disappearing behind a rocky outcropping. Which didn't help Adrien any. He couldn't just leave Plagg close to the shore—he had to get him to shore. Certainly the ship was somehow accessing the land, but he couldn't know how if he couldn't see it.

Careful as he approached, he kept himself mostly below the water as he swam, only keeping his head up enough to be able to see over the water's surface.

Soon enough, he was approaching the alcove, his heart beating faster as the looming shadows stretched out to meet him. The sky was bright with the early morning now, the sun warming every surface it touched. It was almost so bright it was painful, but Adrien kept going nonetheless.

Careful to be as quiet as possible, he slowly swam around the rocks into the alcove, only to come to a startled stop once he was around the bend.

The ship was right there in front of him. It'd halted in the water, sheltered beneath the cliffs like a fish hiding at the base of some seaweed. And for a moment, Adrien's nerves nearly got the better of him. He almost turned tail and swam away as fast as he could.

But his curiosity proved to be more powerful, causing him to gape some when activity upon the ship became visible. He could hear voices—human voices—and see their silhouettes moving about upon the ship. There weren't many of them.

Maybe, if he could reach the ship, he could leave his ring on it. That was kind of like reaching the shore, right? There had to be a place he could safely stash it.

Ducking down beneath the water, he approached the ship from underneath, which seemed to make it appear all the larger. It was a bulging, dirty thing, covered in barnacles and other sharp bits that he'd have to steer clear of. He wasn't sure what it was made from—some brown material that was clearly discolored. He swam up and down the length of it, and then completely around it (at a distance, of course), hoping he'd spot some place to leave the ring. But there was nowhere safe. If he simply left it in a batch of barnacles, the humans would never find it. And then it'd likely be lost at sea again.

Gathering his courage, Adrien swam a little closer to the surface, until he could just vaguely see through the water to the inclining sides of the ship above.

Just as something came crashing down into the water on top of him.

Surging back in surprise, Adrien shook himself, realizing quite quickly that an entire barrel of discarded fish remains had just been dumped on top of him. Picking off the pieces that had stuck, he curled his lip and swam a bit further down the length of the ship.

It was only when he stopped again that he realized the voices upon the ship had grown louder.

Peering up through the water, he felt his skin grow cold at the sight of one of the humans jogging down the length of the ship, pointing down at the water—at him—as they did.

He should leave. He knew he should.

What was the humans saying, he wondered.

Despite every warning sign, Adrien slowly turned his head on its side, just enough that he could raise one ear above the surface.

"Oh my god, look at that…" The human was speaking. And, oddly enough, Adrien could understand him. They spoke the same language? There seemed to be a slight accent difference, but it was still easy for him to catch every word. "I can't believe I'm seeing this."

Supposing there was no reason to pretend as though he hadn't been seen, Adrien turned his head until his eyes were above the surface again. He then quickly narrowed them into a glare as he stared up at the human.

"Hey, there," the human continued, waving weakly at him as he did.

It was indeed a human male. He had short, brown hair, and browned skin. Though Adrien couldn't be sure, he decided that whatever was covering the human from the neck down had to be clothing of some kind. Like Chloe's thin shawls, though much heavier and of sturdier make. He wore a blue tunic from the throat down with white sleeves. That was the extent of what Adrien could see, as the ship's edge got in the way of the rest.

"Hey, did you follow us here?" the human asked. Adrien refused to answer, instead remaining exactly where he was. "It's okay, I won't hurt you."

Adrien did not believe him.

Reaching down, the man rubbed his fingers together, as if trying to beckon Adrien closer as one would a pet fish. "Come here, Catfish. It's okay."

"What the hell are you doing, Nino?" Another voice came up behind the first human, Adrien slinking back a bit as a result.

"Look, Alya! Look!" The first human was pointing down at him again, clearly excited as his comrade came up beside him.

She was far more intimidating than the man in blue. She glared down at Adrien through one amber eye, the other covered in a patch. Her long dreadlocks were pulled back in a high ponytail, the loose ends fading from dark brown to white at their tips. She was wearing some kind of orange colored vest with white linen underneath. A single orange necklace hung around her neck, shaped like a hollowed bubble with a pointed tip.

"Well, I'll be damned," she said, leaning forward over the edge of the ship in order to get a better look at him.

"It must have followed us in here," the first human—Nino—explained. "It has to be a real mermaid, right? Look at its ears!" He held his hands out from either side of his head in a pointed fashion, as if mimicking the shape of Adrien's long, pointed ears. "Man, what Luka wouldn't give to see this."

The other human—Alya—grinned, but it wasn't the sort of grin Adrien liked all that well.

"We should catch it," she decided a second later.

Adrien darted even further back.

"Don't scare it, Alya!" Nino said sharply, appearing quite disheartened as he looked back at Adrien. "We're not going to catch you," he guaranteed. "Don't listen to her—she's out of her mind."

"Hey!"

"We promise not to hurt you if you come here." Once again, he held his hand down as if beckoning to some sort of daft animal.

Not appreciating the gesture, nor the other human's attitude—and confident that he could get away from them at his distance—Adrien dared raise his head fully up out of the water, a disapproving frown pulling at his lips as he eyed them.

Nino gaped. "Wow…"

"Hey, Cap! Come look at this!" Alya had turned, seemingly calling to another on board. The thought of even more humans made Adrien nervous, and he nearly dove back down into the water and swam away. But before he could, another appeared at the edge of the ship.

The sight of her had Adrien freezing, his own lips parting in wonder.

She wasn't a large, intimidating woman. Not in stature anyway. Yet she seemed to exude confidence nonetheless. She wore a long, red coat, the front of it decorated with all sorts of ties and buttons.

Her own gaze caught Adrien's, her vibrant blue eyes widening as her red-tinted lips parted in much the same way his had. Reaching up, she removed the strange, triangle-shaped hat that was sitting on her head, instead holding it against her chest as she watched him.

She had lovely, long hair—black, but sparkling with purple and blue in the morning sunlight. It contrasted with her pale complexion, seeming to bring out the color of her eyes all the more.

Around those very eyes appeared to be a mask of some sort. Adrien couldn't tell if it was a natural feature or not, the red that stretched from one side of her face to the other, black spots interspersed throughout.

He also found that he didn't much care one way or another.

Rather, he decided that she was absolutely beautiful.

"It's a mermaid," Nino said again, sounding all the more excited.

"That's a siren," the red woman corrected, her voice clear in the same way the air had been when he'd first breached the water. "You can tell by his ears. They're fanned, like fins."

"Aren't they all the same?" Alya asked.

"Sirens are far rarer than the other variety," the red woman corrected. Setting her hat down on the edge of the ship, her gaze turned curious. "What are you doing so far from home, pretty one? It'd dangerous, being this close to shore."

Clamping his mouth shut, Adrien found himself quite caught up in her gaze. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, his skin tingling from his fingers down through the tip of his tail. Despite himself, he drifted a bit closer, if only to get a better look at her.

"Don't come closer," she warned. "You shouldn't be curious about humans. Go home. You'll only get hurt if you stay here."

"Or worse," Alya tacked on.

But he didn't want to leave.

The red woman—apparently dissatisfied with his reaction—released a short sigh, before she pulled something from her hip. It was some kind of red, spotted circle. Not that Adrien got a very good look at it. A moment later, it was snapping out into the water in front of him, the splash startling him backwards.

"I could catch you in seconds," the red woman lectured. "Now get out of here!"

She snapped the circle back out again, Adrien finally overcoming his awe enough to dive into the water. Darting downward, he turned to look up just as the weapon was retracting. For only a split second, he considered staying, but then common sense finally got the better of him.

She'd said she could catch him, which was warning enough. Despite how his heart dropped down into his stomach, he lingered only a second longer before he turned tail and glided deeper into the water, swimming back the way he'd come.

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

So there’s Chapter 1. It’s posted to AO3 as well (skaylanphear) and will be updating first on my Patreon (skadako).

Hope you guys enjoyed the first installment!

[nightwingshero]

Unwanted

Okay guys, so I’ve been working on two different stories for FC5: one that follows the game and the other is a burlesque/mafia au that I couldn’t get out of my head. This is the first piece of work I’ve posted for Wren and John, and its for the burlesque au. I’m going to be posting my work on AO3 soon, but I got really excited about this and wanted to share it! Trigger warning for some alcohol use and dark thoughts, so read at your own risk!

Her green, venomous eyes were taunting. She sneered at everything that came across her withering gaze, her hips swaying with a little extra effort to gain the attention from those around her. It was in vain, of course, with Rowan’s performance still in full swing. But that didn’t stop this woman from holding her head high as she looked down her nose to our dancers. We’ve had people in here before from the first class. Most of the time, they were pleasant, friends of Whitney or John. Some just stopping through to check out the club they’ve heard so much about, but that southern charm had never failed. Until now.

She flipped her platinum blonde hair, the curls catching the little light that created the ambiance. Her short emerald dress hugged her curves, showcasing her breasts perfectly. I was almost impressed. I shifted a bit, fidgeting with the material of the outfit I wore for my last performance. I was talking to John before he had ducked outside to take a call from a client. I stood there, waiting for his return, but as her gaze narrowed on me, I knew I was in for it.

“Where’s John?” she asked in a clipped voice. I would have thought her beautiful, if her personality had matched. I frowned at her.

“I’m sorry, he’s not available. May I ask who’s asking?” I asked in curiosity. John had people come in here and there, asking for his time. This wasn’t new. He would brush them off, telling us to make sure to ask who they were and why they wanted to see him. He was so allusive here, insistent that his business hours were always clearly communicated. If those expectations weren’t met, then too bad. He took his schedule seriously.

She sneered at me, her glossy lips shimmering with her teeth. “I’m his fiancée. Now, go tell him that I’m here.” My brows shot up in surprise as my heart stopped. Fiancée? He had never mentioned…

“I didn’t realize he was engaged.” I replied quietly, hoping to keep the disappointment hidden. I felt deflated, as if someone had poked a hole in me. I wanted to stay neutral, not give away how my heart sank to the pit of my stomach at the thought of it. But she smirked, her green eyes twinkling.

“Well, he is.” She let out a little laugh. “Its cute, you know? This little crush you have.”

“I don’t—”

“Oh please.” She snapped. “It’s so obvious. He probably already knows. You wear it on your sleeve. It’s disgusting and pathetic.” She clicked her tongue as she gave her a look of pity. “Let me guess, you’re some country girl from the middle of nowhere who is trying to make it in the big city. Am I right?” I don’t answer. I’m raging, the blatant rudeness wiggling under my skin. But I can’t seem to defend myself. My tongue feels heavy and the tears are coming. It only fuels her, knowing she is so close to making me collapse into myself like a house of cards.

“Oh honey, did you really think he would go for that? Some little girl playing dress up when she belongs back on the farm? You’re way out of your league.” She steps closer, placing a hand on my shoulder as she squeezes with a false sense of reassurance. As if we were in this together, the two of us against the world. “Honestly, I’m doing you a favor. Saving you from the humiliation of rejection. John has standards, a particular taste darling. And this? This isn’t you. It’s not fitting in the slightest. Whore isn’t exactly on John’s radar. He prefers women of class, love. You’re beneath him. It’s time for you to understand that you’ll never be good enough for him.” She smiles again, before rubbing her hand on my cheek. Then with a slight smack against my skin, she’s gone, and my eyes are catching Whitney’s shocked ones.

The room spins as I lean against a chair for support as Whitney tries to call for me. Fight or flight is strong in my veins, roaring in my ears as my stomach twists and twists, creating something I don’t recognize within me. Reforming, as I stumble to the back, desperate for something I can cling to, something real I can put inside myself to make me real. I’m a ghost of something as I gather my things to leave. The breath in me is gone, forcing me to choke on the stale cigarette smoke Adelaide is supplying. I’m almost in a trance, and yet I feel some sort of clarity. The fantasy broken like a magic mirror, and suddenly I am seeing my true self in the broken pieces lying before me. I barely register Faith’s words, but I’m sure she’s asking if I’m alright. I smile, say yes, pretend that I’m still the same person on that stage. She’s not convinced and so I tell her I’m going home. My sleeve must be dirty from everything that shows there.

I leave quickly, feeling like a fool. Perhaps I should laugh, like most clowns do, pulling all those emotions out of my sleeve like a colorful handkerchief chain. That would require a voice, something I was lacking. A mime would be more fitting. My body the tool, invisible and locked inside a box I created for myself as I tried to put on a display. A vision no one had wanted, the piece of art that sat in the back unwanted. I forced a sob down as I entered my car, fumbling for the keys.

I wish I could say that I remembered getting to my apartment. Out of character for small town Wren, sweet little Wren. The box was closing in, my chest threatening to implode. I let go, the tears and sobs forcing my body curl into itself on my bed. The little moments were a mirage, something my naïve brain believed to be something more. How many times had he been there to protect me? His bullet wound had only just healed. How many times had he saved me? The disaster of a date with Detective Pratt merely weeks ago. I could still taste the fear on my tongue as Pratt plied me with glass after glass of wine. The gentleness in which John had handled me, almost caring. Like I was the most fragile thing in his world.

I scream them into my pillow, the broken pieces of my heart. Pieces of my soul shattering like the illusion of him, the illusion of what I thought we could have become. I breathe in deeply and that’s when I feel the shift, the steel resolve of my psyche overcoming me. It’s the numbness I notice first, turning my sobs into nothing. I rise, making my way to the kitchen like a vengeful spirit that is the one being haunted. The vase is crystal, a gift from Adelaide for the new place, but it’s the flowers I want. He had them sent to me, celebrating our big show only a few nights prior. I laughed to myself, remembering the rush I had felt. For the first time, I had felt high. Elated.

I swayed, humming to myself a bit as I made my way to the bathroom. Turning the chrome handle, I began to run the hot water, desperate to feel the burn against my skin to help me rid myself of her touch. To purge the gaze that had taken me in with such disdain, as if I was a stain upon this earth. Her tainting touch scorched my skin, leaving an invisible mark that only I could see. That I could feel. And with that, I ripped the soft petals from the stems, allowing them to sprinkle down into the water. They dance across the surface, a secret waltz that only they knew.

One by one, I light candle after candle, a dark ritual that was only just beginning. My hair is twisting up and up, piling elegantly on top of my head, and then I’m dipping into the water. The warm, baptizing water welcoming me, loving me as it takes me as I am. Scars and all, it holds me securely in it’s embrace. I could almost hear the shushing of its calming voice, almost feel the comforting fingers of my mother as she played with my hair. The ghost of her was almost enough, pushing me back to a time where I didn’t have to feel the weight of loss or rejection.

And suddenly, her ghost is gone. Blue eyes have taken over haunting me, her fingers replaced by his tattooed ones. He plays me like a harp, pulling my tight strings just so he could hear me sing, watch as I move with a simple flick. The hypnosis of his ocean eyes is deep and tempting, calling for my drowning. They wish to claim my last breath, the very last bit of my being. And I’m rising from the water, panic clawing my throat because I can feel the pull, feel his gaze as I felt hers. I fight off the tears that demand to be seen, that want the show they so rightfully deserve. It was only fair, my heart screams, but I laugh at it. Life is never fair.

I stand naked in the mirror, but I see her standing next to me. The blue bloods that own this city, the embodiment of the perfect Georgia peach. A woman I could see John taking by the waist with pride. Her red lips and dark lashes, the long neck and golden blonde hair on display for all to see. My body not nearly as lean or as striking. I imagined her in her castle as a child, the beautiful princess of Atlanta, ruling her kingdom with her head held high. My childhood filled with softball tournaments and the old beaten up acoustic guitar that slept in the corner, while she attended operas and orchestra concerts. A culture I had never dreamed of, a social circle that could never be touched by the likes of me.  

I dry my skin, the feeling of being paper thin is overwhelming. I laugh to myself, because I know what comes next. I know what I’m about to do. It’s silly, childish, and yet I glide to my dresser. Slowly, I pull out my favorite number, something I had always imagined wearing for him. Not on stage, no. This was something for him and him alone. I put on the bra, the black lace striking against my skin and suddenly I’m untouchable. Slipping on the lacey underwear to match, I turn to my closet, desperate for the last pieces. The silk ebony robe sending shivers down my spine as it caresses me, and it’s as if I’m being held in my lover’s arms. The heels are last, simple and elegant. Tall and black, two thin straps leaving my feet bare, the same shoes I had worn to my father’s funeral. I felt like death herself, all powerful and ready to take whatever she wanted. Provocative and demanding, a queen among men.

My hair is released, falling like a waterfall down my back. It felt good to pretend, to believe in this moment that I was like her, that I wasn’t me. That I was a woman that was cherished and wanted, an envy-worthy being. I reason with myself; I know I’ve gone mad. I had fallen off the deep end and taken flight, and it had never felt better. The feeling addicting, the need for more growing and growing. The heels clicked against the wood floor, fueling me. The righteousness they sang, the vengeance they demanded, it became a soothing lullaby.

The kitchen is dark, only the light above the stove and sink burned with life. I reached for the most expensive red wine I had, pouring a glass with a smile of satisfaction. The blood red liquid was all consuming, drawing me closer. The dark, bitter taste becoming my sanctuary, but I wasn’t done. No, far from it. And as I sat down at my small vanity back in the bathroom, I choke yet again on a sob, and force out a laugh instead. I had a plan, a traitorous plan against the tears that begged for the freedom they longed for. I knew how to trick the emotions into becoming wisps of smoke on the inside of my porcelain glass exterior. I had never been an artist, but I paint. The burgundy against my lips, the black liquid liner creating sharp edges that would dare touch without permission. The brush then creates a frame for the windows of my soul, residing in the blue green irises staring back at me. They’re heavy, sad even, but the mascara does its job and I finish with a flourish.

I’m suddenly beautiful, a perfect doll someone would love to have, to play with, and have on their arm. I wonder briefly which arm he would use to put around my own waist, and suddenly my vision swims. I scoff as I hold my head high and take a sip in victory, toasting myself for outsmarting the betrayal of my heart that suddenly matched the blue of his eyes. I was so strong, I told myself. I was better. But as I held the glass gently, it became comforting to me, whispering sweet nothings and promising me a numbness that kept me safe and sound. I knew I was lying to myself. I was far from better.

A sound pulls me from the calling, and I set the glass down as I rose. The noise led me to my bedroom window, finding a cat messing with some metal trashcans as it scavenged for its next meal. Then I hear the soft clicking of my front door, and I scoff while squeezing my eyes shut momentarily. I should have known. Rowan was the only other one with a key, and I could almost bet that Faith had sent her my way. The wine’s singing int the next room, creating an atrocity of noise in my head. Perhaps just one glass, just to get the noise to go away. To make everything quiet.

Rowan would wait patiently in the living room; she respected my privacy. She wouldn’t just wander around. No, she would sit on the couch or at the kitchen table, preparing for whatever conversation she had planned on having. “Rowan, I’ll be out in a moment.” I call out in a sigh, letting her know I was aware of her and wasn’t being ignored. “I hope your show ended well. Sorry I wasn’t there to see the grand finale.” Every word was an effort, taking energy away from me. I wanted nothing more than to be alone.

I give only a few more seconds as I come to my decision and began making my way back to my bathroom. I could down the glass quickly. Rowan gives no response, but I don’t mind. It doesn’t matter. But as I step into the bathroom, I freeze. The blood in my veins suddenly turn to ice and my breath hitches. The glass was missing, as if it were never there in the first place. Sad and confused, I approach the vanity. The red wine, that had matched my lips, was gone. Staring at the reflection in the mirror, I’m reminded that I could never be her, or any of them. The beautiful women that could seduce him with just a soft smirk, a glance in his direction as her finger curled, beckoning him closer. I cringe as I turn away. I didn’t need another reminder that I wasn’t good enough.

“Rowan, give it back. I’m fine. Let me finish my fucking wine.” I stomp down the fall, my heels screaming their wrath. That’s how I enter my kitchen, ready for war, but I stop as something catches my attention. I make my way to the sink in a daze as I reach for my empty glass, the stain from my former lipstick taunting me. The wine bottle is set down and I reach for it, not caring of the guest I had yet to acknowledge. The lightness of the glass bottle tells me exactly what I had been thinking, it had not been spared. Everything was empty, just like me.

I slam the bottle down as I clench my teeth, seething. I wanted to scream, to see the world burn with the rage I was feeling. “Rowan!” I snap and I begin to shake, but whether it was from anger or the lack of control, I wasn’t sure. “Are you fucking kidding me? I barely had any—”

I’m no longer yelling but choking on the gasp that rushes out as fingers caress my neck, a hand gripping my hip tightly. They tease at the base of my neck before tracing my collarbone. The hand on my hip is sliding and sliding until its entangled with the knot of my robe. I know this touch, this gentle melody against my skin. The same gentle caress that ran over my skin as he marked me, embedding his creation into my skin with his dark ink. A permanent work of art that would be displayed on me for the rest of my life, and then suddenly he grasps my neck, squeezing only slightly. I knew what this was. I knew that this was a punishment, his own way of showing his disappointment for my lapse. He wouldn’t hurt me, I trusted him, and I knew that concern was driving his anger. My head rests against his shoulder as his lips find my ear.

“Promise?” he asked, dead serious. His breath makes me shiver and I breath out slowly through my nose. “Promise me that that’s all you had, Wren. Do not lie to me.”

“I promise, John.” I whispered in shame. He knew, god he knew. I was usually good, drinking only in moderation and at social events. I was so careful. But he knew, in this moment, that I had no intention of stopping. I was so swept up in the hurt, in the insecurity and anxiety, that I hadn’t realized how quickly I was falling down the rabbit hole. I make a sound at the back of my throat, and I feel my armor began to fall, disintegrating into nothing as I’m fighting the tears that are coming back.

He doesn’t give me the opportunity to cry. His lips find the junction of my neck and I sigh. Rowan wouldn’t have taken that step, pouring everything I had down the sink. That just wasn’t how she was. She would have lectured, sure. Express disappointment? Absolutely. John wasn’t like that. John was bold, unafraid of anything that ever came his way. I let out a shaky breath as he pulled away, his hand leaving my neck as his finger gently turned my chin. His lips found mine and I couldn’t think.

How long had we skirted around this? How many times had we came this close, but never crossed the line? The stolen glances, the shameless flirting. The way he held me the night I was almost shot in the alley, and yet neither of us were willing to take it further. I could almost laugh, because I had thought for so long it was just me. I was crushing on someone way out of my league. I had believed the words that woman had said. And suddenly, I remembered exactly why I was in this situation. I’m his fiancée.

He pulled away as the tears fell, and I looked away from him. He wasn’t having it. Gripping the front of my robe, he jerks me around. It takes only a few seconds for him to see, and without missing a beat, his hands are on my thighs. He sets me up on the counter as a sob successfully, finally, escapes my lips. His hands cradle my face as his thumbs wipe the tears away. His eyes are soft and they’re pulling me in, a tug on my seams as I become undone. I tore my gaze away, trying to hide everything I was feeling.

“Look at me.” He whispers, his face close enough that I can feel his breath. I looked back, fear and hurt all over my face. “Listen to me and listen very closely. You are enough. Do you hear me? Wren, you are enough.”

“Enough for you?” I croaked as I cried. My hands twisted as the clung to his white button up shirt. I was creating wrinkles, but neither of us cared. His brow furrowed and his jaw ticked.

“Enough for me? God Wren, who gives a shit about me?” He gently pokes my chest, against my beating heart. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I think or what anyone else thinks for that matter. Anyone.” He sneered as a dark look swirled in his cerulean orbs. “All that matters, is that you’re enough for you. You matter, Wren. You come first.”

“But that woman said—”

“That woman is nothing. Her opinion is nothing. She will never touch you, or get close to you, do you understand? She’s a liar and a manipulator. A child throwing a tantrum for not getting what she wants.”

I shook my head, my insecurities still whispering doubts. “She’s so pretty, John. She’s so thin, and I’m nothing like her. I’m not like her.” I sobbed.

He chuckled, a soft smile gracing his lips and showing off his perfect teeth. The light gave him a heavenly glow, yellow highlighting his features that made him look warm. “No, you’re not. You’re nothing like her, Wren. But that’s one of the biggest things I love about you.” He gently pressed his thumb against my lips, helping silence my sobs as I hung onto every word. “Shhh. Don’t cry, darling. Do you not see? Do you not understand just how beautiful you are, inside and out? Do you not know what it is you do to me?”

“John—” I gasped, but he presses his lips softly against mine before pulling back.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? I’ve thought of little else since I’ve first laid eyes on you.” He whispers. “I get to watch you, Wren. I get to watch you every night when you perform, and I want nothing more than to devour you, to have you all to myself.” He tugged the robe loose, making it fall open and his eyes travelled down. My skin heated immediately from his attention, his finger returning to my chest as it teasingly traced the top of my breast. “I waited, bidding my time for the perfect moment. It never seemed to come, though, and I had to watch as that idiot detective circled you. But I protected you when you needed, listened to you when you needed the shoulder to cry on. I wanted you, craved you, but needed you to be happy, to be ready and unafraid. I wanted to take my time with you, but I can’t keep my fucking hands off you.”

I laughed and his smile broadened as he leaned back. “So…you’re not engaged?”

He scoffed. “Hell no. We used to be, but that was years ago. She’s nothing to me.” He placed a light kiss on my nose, before going for my lips, but I stopped him. He gave me a look and I smirked.

“Did you break into my apartment?” I asked, my brow raising, and he gave me a smirk in return.

“Oh darling, I plead the fifth.”

“So, that’s a yes.”

“It is not. Need I remind you that I’m innocent until proven guilty?” he asked, a breathless laugh escaping him. He gave me a mischievous smirk, something dancing in his eyes that made my lower abdomen pull as I bit my lip. “I heard about what happened, Whitney told Rowan and I everything. Rowan was enraged, I believe she may or may not have taken a swing at our unwanted guest. I didn’t stay though, I needed to check on my girl.” He tilted my chin up gently, his lips brushing mine lightly. “And you are my girl, aren’t you darling?”

“Yes, John. I’m yours.” I breathed out and his lips crashed against mine once more. Everything forgotten as a sense of relief settled over me. My heart swelled as his hands caressed lovingly against my skin, holding me, and driving the last of my inner demons into the shadows as I fell into his sweet embrace.

[mira-shard]

Marina Willow Profile

I had to use this once I saw @hogwartsmysterystory AMAZING template!

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IDENTITY

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Name: Marina Madeline Willow 

Gender: Female

Age: 15 (In most of my works)

Birth Date: 2/2/1973

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood (Father is a pure-blood, the mother is a Half-blood)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Chaotic neutral

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British

Residence: Willow Manor

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ENTP

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THE MAGE

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1st Wand: Acacia wand, 12 inches, unicorn hair core

Acacia wood:

A very unusual wand wood, which is found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and Ollivanders keeps only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as ‘bangs-and-smells’ magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament.

Unicorn hair core:

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.

Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.

2nd Wand: 11-and-a-quarte inches, ebony wood, Hippogriff and Fwooper feather

Ebony wood:

This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

Fwooper feather:

Fwooper feather wands are said to be a mark of ill omen for the wizards they bond to, as, like the birds they come from, they are rumored to slowly drive their wielder mad. Despite their poor reputation, they do well with Charms and Care of Magical Creatures. However, they have a near-inability to cast Quietus. They are commonly combined with another feather core, such as the phoenix for health or the hippogriff for stability.

Hippogriff feather:

Hippogriffs are noble animals with a reputation for not taking a slight. These wands require constant respect, and if the wielder does not give it, they can watch its formerly stable and versatile magic backfire on it. It is not the strongest core, but it is one of the most adaptable. These wands are most common amongst Gryffindors, but they are rare overall.

Animagus: Jaguar

Misc Magical Abilities: Legilimens

Boggart Form: A younger version of herself and her brother, clinging to each other in fear while a threathening shadow is towering above them. 

Boggart meaning: A simple moment that makes her remember all the times Marina and her brother spent together, unable to trust anything in their own home, their own parents included.

Riddikulus Form: The shadow turns out to be their mother, who casts spells that create butterflies and other pretty things, leaving the siblings in awe.

Amortentia, what she smells like: Sea salt and lavender.

Amortentia, what she smells: Butterbeer, a smoldering fire and cinnamon.

Patronus: Jaguar

Patronus Memory: Besting the ice vault with her friends, being one step closer to her reunion with her brother.

Mirror of Erised: Her brother and her playing at the cliff sides near the manor, while their mother watches over them with a smile. 

Specialized/Favourite Spells: Musicis Ludere (A spell that allows instruments to play whatever song the caster was thinking of without a musician) is her favourite spell in general. Her favourite combat spell is Bombarda.

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APPEARANCE

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Faceclaim: None.

Game Appearance: 

Voice claim: Morgan Berry

Height: 173 cm

Weight: 58 kg

Eye Colour: Greyish green

Hair Colour: Brown, dyed purple passed her shoulders.

Skin Tone: Pale

Scarring: Scar on her left cheek from the fight with the ice knight in her fifth year and a burn mark on her back from the dragon in the portrait vault.

Inventory: Pet food, lots of empty notebooks, stuffed kneazel, at least 1 sweater, a walkman, a beanie and reading books.

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ALLEGIANCES 

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Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Ilvermorny House: She would have been a Pukwudgie

Affiliations/Organizations: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of the Phoenix.

Professions: Cursebreaker at Gringotts, helper at the Willow home-away-from-home, her brother’s business.

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HOGWARTS INFORMATION

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Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: Outstanding

Charms: Exceeds Expectations

DADA: Outstanding

Flying: Exceeds Expectations

Herbology: Dreadful

History of Magic: Acceptable

Potions: Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Electives: 

Care of Magical creatures: Acceptable

Divination: Exceeds Expectations

Extra-Curricular: Slytherin beater and prefect.

Favourite Professors: Professor Kettleburn. She adores his passion for his subject and can see herself in his recklessness when it comes to dealing with said passions. He might be a tad crazy but she enjoys talking to him and can often get away with misbehaving in his class.

Least Favourite Professors: Professor Snape. Marina enjoys challenging authority figures and has a strong sense of personal justice that sometimes goes against Hogwarts rules which rubs Snape the wrong way. She has gained some respect for him when she learned he distrusts Rakepick as well. To quote her exact words, "Well, turns out Snape is less of Dumbledore's bootlicker than we thought."

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RELATIONSHIPS

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Brother: Acacius "Jacob" Willow.

Marina and Acacius have a very loving and protective relationship. Being born with a neglectant mother and an abusive father, the two learned to rely on each other at a very young age. When Acacius started studying at Hogwarts, he made sure to teach Marina everything he learned during the holidays and the summer.

Much like his younger sister, Acacius is not one to look away from injustice, having to watch his family suffer from his own father’s cruelty for so long. Thanks to the support of Duncan Ashe and Olivia Green, he learned how to stand up to his father and how to quietly rebel against other sorts of authority figures, something he passed onto Marina.

Acacius tends to say ‘fuck it,’ when someone talks shit about his family or muggleborns and just fight them the muggle way. He finds it a good way to get his aggression out but it got him into loads of trouble and a reputation as a delinquent at Hogwarts. It was one of the few things he didn’t pass onto his baby sister.

Father: Emeric Lorenzo Willow

Emeric is a faithful follower of Voldemort, his ambition of furthering his family legacy based on power instead of blood purity being the only thing more powerful.

He married Marina’s mother merely for the natural born skill of legilemncy that ran trough her family, hoping it would pass onto their childeren. As far as most of the wizarding world knows, this marriage nor the childeren it produced exists. Emeric has another family elsewhere to keep up his reputation as a powerful and clean man. 

He controlled his hidden family with fear and his connections, making a show of torturing aurors during Voldemort’s reign and forcing his childeren to watch. 

The abuse was never physhical but mental torture, as a punishment for Acaius and Marina for not having legillmens abilities as far as he knows.

Mother: Abigail Kowalski-Willow.

Abigail is a witch who was born and raised in America and transferred to Hogwarts after an experiment gone wrong and got her expelled from Ilvermorny. 

A naïve yet determinded soul who enjoyed using her legilemens abilities whenever possible, but her ambitions got her into huge financial debt after graduating from Hogwarts.

Enamored with Emeric’s affections and interested in his wealth, she agreed to marry him after a few months of flirting.

When Acacius hid his talent from Emeric, the wizard took his frustrations out on Abigail, torturing her with the cruciatus curse. By the time Marina was born, their mother had passed the brink of insanity. Neither of the kids truly got to know their mother and never learned they got their curiosity and determination from her.

Other Siblings: To be Revealed :3

Love Interest: 

Canon love interest: Jae Kim

The two of them had met during detention and connected by making fun of professor Snape. When the two gradually started hanging out more often they bonded further about their authority defying traits and humor.

The two had been flirting quite often, sometimes even kissing one another on the cheek or forehead, or cuddling in one of their common rooms, but they both played it off on them just joking around,afraid of rejection from the other.

It wasn’t until the Circle of Khanna was estabalished when Jae decided to act on his feelings, but Marina was sadly emotionally unavailable. However, once she worked trough her grief and finished the quest for the vaults, they began a relationship in their seventh year.

Friends with Benefits: Marina and Merula had an agreement that lasted from their sixth year until the first half of their seventh year. Eventually Merula broke things off cause she knew the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere and they parted ways. Marina rediscovered her feelings for Jae Kim a few months later.

MC love interests:

Molly darling ( @mollydarling-hphm ) :

Marina is ride or die for her girl, simple as that. You have a problem with Molly? Marina would like to know your location. They’re the equivelent of “Don’t mess with my badger or you’ll never see the light of day again.”

Best Friends: Rowan Khanna and Ben Copper.

Rival: Merula Snyde and Acacius Willow

-She never truly saw Merula as a rival, more as if they were two sides of the same coin

-Jacob made himself her rival the moment he refused to work together on finding the vaults

Enemy: Rakepick and R

Dormmates: Rowan Khanna, Merula Snyde, Liz Tuttle and Night Rhea ( @nightrhea-hphm )

Pets: Fritzgerald (Her kneazle) and Tiberius (her owl)

Closest Canon Friends: Merula, Rowan and Ben.

Closest MC Friends: Stephanie Alexeev, ( @hanihonii ) Helene Adler ( @heleneplays , Alice Beaumont ( @mizutoyama ), Luna Silvermore ( @lunasilvermore ), Kyril Vasiley ( @kyril-hphm ), Samantha O’Connell ( @samshogwarts ) Feen McKenzie ( @sam-winchester-is-my-bitch​ )

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BACKGROUND/HISTORY

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Born to Emeric and Abigail Willow, the younger sister of Acacius "Jacob."

A sadistic, death eater for a father and a mentally unstable legilimens for a mother. The first part of her life Marina always kept to Acacius and her mother, scared to leave the house and unable to befriend the kids of her father's associates. The few happy moments she had in her early childhood was whenever her father was working or at a meeting and her mother enchanted the music instruments to play her favourite lullaby as she and Acacius danced and chased each other around the ballroom.

The order of the Phoenix managed to capture Emeric Willow before Voldemort’s defeat at the Potter house. By then Acacius had already dissapeared, leaving Marina alone in an empty household. The few house elves that worked there took care of her as Abigail was taken into St. Mungo’s.

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PERSONALITY

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Positive traits: Curious, Determined, Ambitious, quick thinker, understanding and protective.

Negative traits: Cynical, distrusting, rebellious, impulsive, sarcastic, wants to do everything by herself.

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MISC

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-Marina was against going after the cursed vault at first but had a change of heart in her second year when she found a secret attic in the manor filled with Acacius’s stuff.

-She's so busy she often forgets to eat.

-She’s affectionate

[dalekofchaos]

Biggest wasted potential in Naruto

Killing off Zabuza and Haku. Like come on. Zabuza could’ve either went on to become a Jonin at Konoha and fought against Kisame, or if Haku were alive. Zabuza and Haku would’ve eventually become powerful enough to pull a successful coup and otherthrow Obito’s puppet and Zabuza would become Mizukage with Haku by his side. Naruto could’ve inspired to turn the Hidden Mist into being better, Naruto did get to Zabuza’s heart so it is possible, it worked for Gaara and it damn well could’ve worked with Zabuza. And we could have Zabuza and Haku taking on the entire Swordsmen of the hidden Mist. We could’ve also gotten Haku finding out more about his clan and becoming more powerful in his abilities. We could’ve seen feats in his powers far more powerful than the demon ice mirrors.  

The Hyuga Clan. Building up the Hyuga Clan as one of the strongest clans  in the first half and barely using them to the point where they are underdeveloped and barely acknowledge the Byakugan. Remember when the Byakugan was supposed to be more powerful than the sharingan (and the sharingan was originally derived from the byakugan)? Such a powerful blood trait that the main branch of the clan would enslave the side branches to keep it safe? Yeah that went out the window pretty quickly.

The White Fang. Kakashi's father who is even more famous and powerfull than Kakashi. Who is at least famous as The Sannin. The White Fang of Konoha. There are no games, no Gaiden, movie or anything about him. We could’ve seen The White Fang brought back to fight against Kakashi and Kakashi could’ve been brought closure. It’s a damn shame.

Shino. Shino Aburame was the strongest Genin and he was the most myterious one and one the coolest among all Genins. He was as smart as Shikimaru, skilled as Sasuke and resilient as Neji. He is from one of the noble clans of Konohagakure and Clan Leader's son. After shippuden he completely ignored and only seeing in filler episodes. Even Akamaru and Tonton has more screen time than Shino. And making Shino a Chunnin as Class Teacher at the end? Shino should be a wanderer, a researcher, a S-Class Jonin as sensor or a duty at central intelligence.

The fact that we never learn anything about Konohamaru’s parents. Could they have just been Jonin or Anbu or Ninjas who died in the Kyuubi attack? We will never know.

Kurenai. Youngest of the 4 Leader Jonin of Konoha. Even at her young age she is stated as roughly equal to other senseis’ such as Gai, Kakashi and Asuma. Her genjutsu was so powerful, she was good enough to stunt instantly a guy like Kisame with her fundamental genjutsu and also she was good at breaking Itachi's genjutsu by her own. Where would this go from here? Who from the Akatsuki will she face? What role will she play in the war? And she’s reduced to Asuma’s love interest and made pregnant for the rest of the series. We don’t even see if she was replaced and see if Team 8 even got a new Sensei. We don’t even see Kurenai interact with Hinata, Kiba or Shino. Literally no interaction between any of her students. Kurenai deserved so much better.      

Tenten. Tenten was the only one not interested in boys. Tenten is the only girl who has a big ideal goal. And that is "Becoming a great kunoichi just like her role model Great Sannin Tsunade" Compared to Sakura, Ino, Temari and Karin, Tenten was the only Kunoichi who got the least amount of screen time. And why is that? Kishimoto didn't wanna write any self-reliant teenage girl.

Uzumaki Clan. Not having Naruto use his clan’s powerful sealing abilities in the war. Hell, we REALLY could’ve learned more about the Uzumaki Clan from Karin. Karin would have been a great opportunity to be the one who lets us know what the clan was really like. This could’ve made Sasukarin work cause both clans being restored really would’ve worked. Like we have both Nagato and Karin and we never learn anything about the Clan from either of them. How do you not use your main character’s clan???  Hell, Naruto could’ve used what he inherited from Kushina to seal away Madara before Madara could possess Obito to bring him back. 

Hinata. If there was a picture in front of the definition of wasted—Hinata would be there. Hinata started to become one of my favorites during her fight with Neji. Kishimoto never really utilized Hinata Hyuga in any real manner. The only times she stood out was when the plot needed advancement. Usually, during a high intense, emotional situation. Hinata outside of extreme life or death moments…is static and seemingly inconsequential. Her existance never affected anything, whether she was living or dead…it wouldn’t of changed a thing. Hinata’s popularity rose, because of her love and obsession w/ the main character. She became a “underdog” in theory, because here’s this shy girl, disowned by her clan, and basically kicked to the curb like yesterdays garbage. The cousin that was raised to protect her—HATED—her and she was cute, pathetic, and terribly shy. Quite a few fans gravitated towards this character, because of these events. The terrible tragedy that was Hinata Hyuga evoked pity, the fulfillment of her dreams, and fans who in some cases sympathized or viewed shades of themselves in this shy gal. Unfortunately, as a by-product…most fans simultaneously used the tragic backdrop and her position of birth right in order to create this image of a “Tragic Princess”. Hinata was elevated not because of merit or depth, but for representing a figure that could be shaped into something that resembled very little of her original form. Hinata lost any potential real development or sovereignty to become one half of a pair, a princess, and a damsal in distress. She became a caricature. It’s rare to see fan art portraying her as the Hyuga head, a keen leader in her own right or as a mature woman, NOT infantilized or glorified for being somebodies or Naruto’s waifu. Most of this characters identity is tied and overshadowed by her love interest. Hinata is a dreamy character that looses tremendous glamour when gazed at objectively. To be truthful, Hinata never really had an identity, nor was she allowed to naturally build up one on her own. Kishimoto undercut her severely in that department. Hinata could’ve been something fantastic! She could’ve grown to be discarded by her clan and viewed as the lesser child, to growing to improving herself and become equals with Neji and grow to move past her crush/obsession with Naruto to both Neji and Hinata becoming the heads of their respective branches and changing the Hyuga Clan together. Hinata, in my opinion was never a strong character physically. Sure she could fight to defend herself, and she had the Byakugan. Yet despite that…she’s just one of many Hyuga. Hinata isn’t nor was she ever a spectacular fighter in her own right. Quite often she was overwhelmed and fatigued easily. In battle she failed, but if given a real voice. She could’ve been influential and endearing in a completely different way. This girl is the odd one out in her family, weak and soft, but despite all of that….Hinata has heart. The traits she expressed, while rarely separated from “N-Naruto-kun” is that of hesitancy, shyness, ineptitude, a rare softness that could easily be kind, but also bloom into complete indifference, selfishness and a one track mind. Hinata is caring until she goes cold. Specific traits like her indifference, selfishness, and complete apathy to another’s situation seem to stem from general Hyuga decorum and behavior. To be apart of such a clan…these traits would be needed to endure the cruelty, tragedies, and fear that hide behind the poshly royal exterior. The Hyuga are about saving face and Hinata is a pro at hiding her own. I think, Kishimoto could’ve shown Hinata at war w/ herself, her clan and the life expected of her in general. She’d be someone w/ an active inner life, but pretty much a dead fish on the outside. The fans would’ve seen a shy female stalking a boy in order to relieve herself of her woes and worries. To forget for a while. Naruto w/o ever knowing it could’ve been a catalyst for a far stronger transformation w/ future implications. We should’ve seen her gradually change shyness into reserve, hesitancy into patience, unprotected softness into emotional strength, and her indifference into engagement. This character could’ve been a nice counter-balance to the constant might makes right scenarios. Hinata shown doing anything other than stalking, obsessing, and worrying over Naruto would’ve been amazing. I’d rather see her slowly, but surely altering the views of the clan by maturely engaging w/ them in a holistic way. By showing having a heart and being aware of others in a intimate nature was not weakness. She’d develop tenacity, a spine and voice her concerns gradually. Linking and working w/ Neji who serves as a teacher in more ways than one, but who also becomes a student, because Hinata in her peculiar way teaches him a thing or two. To see them both mingle and wind themselves through the complexities of the Hyuga clan. Working to attempt change. To simply see Hinata become a better sister. One who shows Hanabi through self sacrifice and unconditional love a different way. Hanabi may detest Hinata’s weakness, because she’s been brought up the traditional Hyuga way. Or even flashbacks of Hinata’s mother…who I feel she’d miss dearly and would’ve had a closer relationship to. Someone which whom she truly felt safe and cherished by. To portray generational cycles through a feminine scope. One of submission, bondage and freedom. “The Hyuga women are like water…we take the shape of whatever container we’re put into.” —Quote from Lady Hyuga, Hinata’s mother Lastly, in fanfiction, Hinata is actually portrayed in ways she should’ve been. For those writers who truly cared for THE CHARACTER and not the waifu…I give props. They present a slow to smile, pearly-lilac eyed women who’s reserved, a wallflower and damn impressive. Hinata always seems to carry a hint of bittersweetness. People ruined all of her wonderful possibilities by keeping her static and a princess. Hinata thrives in difficult times. She blooms when rough roads are ahead and she’s sacrificial….even to her own detriment. In order for her to move on…to become something golden…Hinata has to give up on certain things. This is often true in well written stories concerning her. The obsession for Naruto is only meant to last to a point. Just enough to begin to reveal who Hinata Hyuga really is. To stay pass it’s welcome—means she’ll be forgotten once again…even if the dream unfolded and she got her wish…as canon portrays. Little Hinata Hyuga will be ignored, unknown, and relegated to washing dishes and dusting shelves; as someone else lives out their dreams at her expense.

Lee and Neji being shafted and Neji being killed to justify a ship. The fact we never got to see Sasuke and Neji fight in either the Chunin Exams or in Shippuden is downright insulting. Rock Lee is one of the greatest characters in Naruto, period. He has a great origin story, great setting, very emotional and passionate bonds with others. He had the best fights against Gaara and Kimmimaru and kicked Sasuke’s sorry ass. Then, Kishimoto decided not to develop anyone who didn’t have a Sharingan, not on Team 7 or  Formation Ino–Shika–Chō. We never able to see Rock Lee's development his rough journey to fullfil his ninja way. We don’t even get to see a friendly match between Lee and Neji to show that Lee has FINALLY surpassed his rival or even show Lee fight Sasuke. Such a shame that a fan favorite was wasted. And, no I am not done bitching about Neji. Neji was a perfect candidate for who is gonna build up new Konoha Village and Shibobi System with Naruto as the head of Hyuga Clan. Cuz this is the deal between that promised by 'em long way ago. Neji is the only prodigy type character who died so easily. He has a great history and origin story and has a great bond with Naruto. Naruto once said "when ım gonna become hokage ım gonna chance Hyuga and ım gonna get rid off from family branches and you will be the leader of hyuga" That was the promise of the series. Neji stated even better prodigy than Sasuke. Neji was the most potentially skilled person and Neji had a real bond and story with protagonist. And we never able to saw his development. He never faced with Akatsuki....seriously? His dad came back, but didn’t have any scene with his son???? We could’ve even had Neji and Lee teaming up against Sasuke. Lee and Neji deserved so much better.

Dosu. He was so damn cool and it was such a waste that he was killed off so soon. He could’ve been by Orochimaru and Kabuto’s side. You could’ve even had Dosu become so damn powerful enough that Dosu replaces Kimmimaru as part of the Sound 5. Hell, just keep Team Dosu alive. Dosu, Zaku and Kin should have lived and become apart of Team Hebi/Taka with Sasuke, Karin, and Jugo(in the case of Zabuza living, Suigetsu is not needed) Zaku could’ve gotten past his ego and learn to use his abilities better. Kin could have been developed more and improve her abilities and Dosu could’ve been an untapped powder keg. Team Dosu could’ve been Sasuke’s strongest allies. 

Orochimaru. Orochimaru was built up as the big bad of the series. He betrayed his village and friends for knowledge of all jutsu and immortality. He killed Sarutobi and Gaara’s father and finally he had Sasuke. And Shippuden retconned him into a punching bag for Sasuke. He never reached to his potential or never able to show how much he developed in terms of jutsus and power after killing Sarutobi, I honestly would’ve preferred if Orochimaru was successful in taking Sasuke’s body. It could work. if Sasuke was not strong enough to over power the ritual. what would have happened is Orochimaru would've granted Sasuke his one wish to kill Itachi and Sasuke's strong intentions and desires would have remained as part of Orochimaru's subconscious while he was in control of his body. Plus Sasuke was willing to do this if he was able to see Itachi die. Orochimaru already was a pretty powerful ninja and having the Sharingan definitely would have helped. To unlock Mangekyo he might have had to kill Kabuto which I don't have a problem with. And Kabuto would have no problem with since he wanted his master to succeed. Orochimaru would have mastered Sage Mode(snake sage mode would look awesome tbh), and probably unlocked the Rinnegan (he had enough DNA of the First Hokage to Edo Tensei him after all) The Akatsuki view this news very problematic. Orochimaru was already a problem but with confirmation that he succeeded makes him as much as priority as capturing the tailed beasts. Naruto would have asked Tsunade to order a team to hunt Orochimaru down for him to pay for pretty much killing Sasuke and knowing Jiriya wanting to keep a close eye on Orochimaru and wanting to stop him, he would put investigating Pein on hold and join Naruto. Eventually I think Naruto and Itachi would form an alliance and together fight Orochimaru. I believe Itachi knows that if he could get Orochimaru's chakara low enough, he could force his brother out and use Susano to seal Orochimaru. Then Sasuke would kill his brother.

[lunaempyrios]

After taking three days to rest and recover from Midsummer celebrations, I am back.

Daily Read 24 June, 2020

Lower Realm: Barbieri Tarot XX Judgment is one of those cards that makes us uneasy, at least it does me. There is that sense of irreversible finality that at times make us feel hopeless. However, this is also a call to action. In this position our shadow is screaming for us to act, to do what we need to do. It is up to us to make the judgment call as to which path we would like to take. Would it be a completely different path that’s forged by our current circumstance? Will it be to unite with our soul and, with it, our destiny? Perhaps, could it be staying where we are to hibernate and heal?

Middle Realm: Rider-Waite IX The Hermit calls for prudence, hidden agendas, solitude and introspection. In this position, it signifies shining a light on our shadow’s message for hidden meanings by going into ourselves deeper. This suggests this may be the time to go to our quiet place away from the noise of our daily lives and meditate and center.

Uppper Realm: Goddess Oracle 23 Iris (Communication) helps us find our voice and express it clearly with integrity. As the goddess of communication, she is guiding us to be clear with ourselve while being aware that those around us are withholding something from us, be it facts or their true intentions. It is imperative that we be clear and demand the same from others as we stand up for ourselves and what we believe in. In some cultures, Iris is the goddess of the rainbow that is a celestial sign of hope as she also reminds us of our conversation with the Universal Power’s and its inherent ability to send signs and omens to let us know what is going on beyond all the smoke and mirrors put up by those around us,

Shuffle Jumpers:

Barbieri Tarot 3 of Pentacles reminds us of the fleeting nature of time and its effects on everything around us. Time wears down even that facade of strength and perfection you try to show everyone. Our legacy that remains through times passing will be our character revealed by our actions.

Goddess Oracle

2 Aphodite (romantic love) reminds us to fall in love again whether it is with someone new or the one we currently have, but more so with our lives. She challenges us to see everything through the lenses of this romantic love and see its essence around us to increase its potency and strengthen it. This card tasks us to be here and now, even in times of pain. She warns us of the negative effects of longing or yearning for that hard-to-get love or getting too hung up on expected outcomes as it clouds our judgment, preventing us from seeing the truth. Learn to let go of expectations and attachments and just let things flow on their own. Pay attention to your thoughts, words and actions, and hold yourself accountable by apologizing and earnestly making things better.

8 Brigid (creative spark) is the Celtic Triple-Goddess of hearth, the forge and inspiration, she challenges us to see that we always carry a spark of creativity within us and tasks us to set fire to it. If you are in a creative slump, imagine how it felt when you the first time you expressed yourself creatively just because you felt like it. Imagine the time you first drew your breath and sang your first notes, the first lines you drew or the shapes your molded out of clay. She reminds us to feel what it is like to play with our art materials. Just let go of our expectations, inhibitions, and most of all our excuses, and get into the flow of creating, without judgment of whether it is good or bad—just create.

Summary Reflection: This reading, like others with shuffle jumpers has many layers and very timely to my current circumstance. It is a call to immediate action to introspect and shut out the noise of the external world, and to communicate love clearly through working on my creative projects in seclusion. My Spirit Guides, Angels and Deity really want to be heard in order to guide us in answering the shadow’s urgent call to action. Today’s middle realm supports both the lower and upper realms with a message of delving deeper within ourselves and, for the moment, isolate from external noises of other people’s issues, and the craziness of the outside world. The shadow aspects reminds us to act and reminds us that time is fleeting meaning it is time to act now. The Divine reminds us to communicate clearly, fall in love again with and set fire to that creative spark that is within us. They all come together in the mundane as instruction to shut out the world and work-on myself, on my creative pursuits in a way that clearly communicates and increases the love in the world.

[vixthefantheorist]

Is Anti the Shadow of the Egos pt. 2

Or an add on really. But an important one that I did touch on in my previous post - right here - that I didn’t go into detail yet. Or I was planning too but forgot the words at the time since I was writing that at like... midnight or something.

Anyway, the bit that I wanted to focus on now is this little tidbit.

Again its just theory I have. That Anti is/was a Shadow self of Jack but evolved into something more. Hell maybe Anti is the shadow of all the egos, absorbing their fears and darkness that they refuse to face… with the exception of Chase to a degree. Chase is a ball of negativity and acknowledges it, but likely refuses to face the reason of why or do anything about it; and Anti finds it funny or hell thinks of him as a battery to drain energy from. Who knows.

The reason I point that out is.. because it is true each ego has their own set of fears. Fears that Anti would be all to happy to latch onto and needle at them with. But the biggest fear they all collectively *share* - is the fear of being forgotten and replaced.

Which of course is a valid reason. Seán had stated before that all the egos are each their own person, not fragments of Jack or anything. At least in the Lore. But the thing is it doesn’t matter if they are or not. Every human in the world has their own fears. Spiders, darkness, oceans, etc. But again, the biggest fear nearly everyone has... is being forgotten and replaced. We are creatures that desire to be remembered in some shape or form. Thus, we leave behind pieces of ourselves in creativity. Art, music, literature, architecture and of course important points in history. We all want to be remembered.  

The thing is that Egos thrive and exist on the attention and memory of the creator and the community. If the community forgets, they exist to the creator. If the creator forgets but the community remembers, they exist to them. But if both forget... they vanish. Fade into nothing.  And that’s the problem. People are easily swayed by the next new thing, creators and community shift ideas often but as long as they love the creations, the Egos in this case, then they don’t need to worry for a while. But eventually they would fade like all things do.  Back on track, sorry, Egos fear being forgotten and/or replaced by whatever new thing pops up. Anti has that fear as well despite how he rants about attention, which is likely fear disguised as rage.Anyway, that is ONE fear they all share... even with Anti... perhaps that fear... one they know is there but do not want to think about... not want to face... is where Anti came from. 

Maybe. I don’t know for certain.

But if that is one fear that links them all together than its that one fear Anti is anchored to, his link to the egos, his way to possess them and interfere with any chances they try to use to rescue Jack or each other from his influence. A link that he uses to read their other fears, invade their dreams and twist them into nightmares. And a root to draw in their hidden negativity. 

Because, come on, we all know no one is innocent here. Each one has a skeleton in their closet and we don’t know those yet because we haven’t gotten to those points yet. But they do have a certain... anger to the community. Or at least I think so. After all, this is just my theory and observation, so take it with a grain salt.

Each ego may or may not have an bone to pick with the Community. Again, just *My* thoughts.  JJ: Hardly seen as anything but innocent with no real way to defend himself. Either he’s good or evil that’s all really anyone thinks of him. Nothing more than that.

Marvin: Again, good or evil, a magician with magic... nothing else. Much like JJ and gets pity. 

Henrik: No one really talks about his family troubles. Either he’s a good friend or a crack job doctor, but again no one really speaks about how his wife cheated on him and took his children away to run off with some tennis instructor.

Jackie: A loved superhero... that gets dumped extremely quickly for a new or better version of him. I mean there was that time that everyone started drawing Seán in spiderman outfits and Jackie was shoved into the backburner for a while. Then people started to change Jackie to be less Jackieboy Man to... JSE version of Spiderman.

Chase: Barely gets anything written or drawn of him with a happy ending. Everything is very depressing and people seem to not want to see that change. So... his life is constantly in a state of depression. And who decided that was his life until spoken otherwise? Seán - or Jack, depending on how you see it.

Again, these are just probabilities, and bits I of info I got from a couple of other theorists I spoke to in the JSE discord server, so its second hand knowledge and *NOT* 100% correct or accurate. (Kinda hard to with 22 + million fans running around) Everyone has their own ideas of the Egos, so this is *not* a blast at anyone. So please don’t think of it as such. 

Anyway, each Ego has a sore spot and a bit of anger they may not want to face and acknowledge out of fear. And as I said in the previous post, that negative emotions that are rejected break away into shadows. If this was a case of Anti being a shadow like the shadow selves from Persona. 

If Anti absorbs that, then he knows their darkness, their fears and can use it against them in various ways. To corrupt them to join him, to have them turn on the community and Jack. Or slowly drive them insane. Take your pick. 

Its like Anti is the major shadow in this show. Because if you remember Dr. Jacksepticeye, the one ‘ego’ that was trying to pass off as the good doctor and we all knew it was Henrik Von Schneeplestein that is our good doctor ego. We were all suspicious. And Henrik kicked in the door and wanted this person out of his chair and out of his spot as the doctor. That was fear. Henrik’s fear of being replaced by someone new... a shadow of himself in a way. And from then, we do not know what happened to Dr. Jack or Henrik.

And in Chase’s case, he was completely abandoned and forgotten by Stacy and the kids. Was it by choice? Who knows? Did she remarry? Who knows? But its hurting Chase deeply since he cannot for the life of him somehow get them to take him back or prove he is a good husband and father. Honestly, being the one with the most fleshed out story, we still don’t know much of Chase or his situation. Just that he’s depressed and lonely and struggling to move on. Jack and Henrik seemed to be helping him with that, until Anti drop kicked Jack into a coma and can’t talk to him as he used to.

Do you think Anti is a shadow of them? Or just a shadow of Jack but linked to their central fear of being replaced? Or an amalgamation of their fears but sentient and wants revenge? Or something else? I’m curious.

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Though there is another way to see Anti. Not really a Shadow to Jack or the egos... but a Shadow; a dark mirror to - 

Us. The community.

If you look at his behavior, its very similar to that of a community of fans, but in a negative light no one really wants to see or acknowledge.

Anti craves attention, very much like fans do when we crave attention from Seán, to get him to talk to us... *acknowledge us* as much as Anti wants acknowledgement. And if we don’t get it, we scream and rant... much like Anti.

We want control of the channel, to have him play this... or that... go here or there. Do this or that... like a puppet dancing for our entertainment. Exactly how Anti wishes control of others, making them cower and dance in fear for his entertainment.

Anti reflects how we are like a dark mirror. And I mean it, that we refuse to look at own darkness but we swoon and fawn over another's. We scream when we don't feel acknowledged or if the youtuber refuses to pay attention to what we want. Anti rants about acknowledgement.

Anti rages at not being paid attention to. Just as many fans of the community rage at not having anyone pay attention to what we do or make. 

We want something done our way. Anti wants things his way. 

We try at times to control something that wasn't ours... just as Anti does...

We yank on the strings to try to get what we want; then hate and threaten if we don't get it. And Anti does the same, hate and threaten the other Egos, Jack because he doesn’t get what he wants.

All fandoms have an ugly side that we often at times refuse to acknowledge exists. Perhaps Anti is our own Shadow... our mirror of ourselves as a community.

Now I say that, not out of arrogance or hate or anything. Hell no. I love this community, I love the people in it because I met people, completely strangers to me but all share the same love of the funny shit in Jacksepticeye. I get to geek out with them and come up with theories and AUs and all kids of fun things because of this community. I love Seán as friend I never met and the content he provides because it brightens my days. But I do acknowledge there is a darker side to all fandoms. We all know it and we all try to ignore it for good reasons.

I just wanted to point this out as a possibility, not a bash to the community or any side. Anti was created by the fans, by US, the community, and should be cherished as something fun. And that’s what it is. Anti is fun, I just really think it would blow my mind if Anti was a fun dark reflection to the community as a way to be linked to the story, the Lore that Seán is making.

Also remember the Lore he’s making isn’t a set in stone story that we all have to abide in writing or drawing the egos. Its just a story he wanted to do for and with us. He even stated himself that He has his own ideas of what Anti is, but its not included in the Lore to keep Anti flexible and fun for everyone to still come up with their own designs and origins of Anti.

But how is that? What do you think? Is Anti a dark reflection of our own darkness~?

[joyfulprincessdragonlover54]

How to Train Your Dragon to Me (Edited) 

I would like to start off by saying thank you to @hello-em75 for creating this awesome project for the fandom on Tumblr.  I think it’s truly wonderful how it’s being encouraged for all of the fans to share why this franchise is so special to them as individuals.  I also appreciate how it was encouraged for everybody to do it in whatever way they feel the most comfortable. Mine will simply be by the “Text” page of Tumblr.   I’m afraid I’ve never had the unique talent in fan art or tribute video making.  Yet even before I found out about this fantastic HTTYD themed project.  I always hoped to create a post in which I could share my love for this franchise with other devoted fans.  And why it means so much to me. So once more, thank you @hello-em75 for conceiving this brilliant idea. It’s not about competing against other fans. Instead it is about everyone diving into their personal stories with the franchise and keep supporting all the fans who are shy about their love for it to speak out. We all want to hear what everybody has to say.  No pressure to be concerned it won’t be good enough in comparison to anybody else’s level.   Only share how you feel. I just love it! 

My story in being introduced to How to Train Your Dragon was back in February 2010.  I was 21 at the time.  Always been an animated film lover.  I won’t deny that my fiber stemmed from mainstream studios. Even still, I was always up for traveling off the beaten path.  Found some spectacular hidden gems. DreamWorks has quite a few of those.  Be that as it may, I never would have predicted the film I was about to see would create such an impact on my life.  I saw the trailer and thought to myself “ What an interesting film. I wonder if it will share the same DNA with another DreamWorks film? Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmeron.”  

Needless to say it became far more then an “interesting film”.  My soul was re-awakened! I say that without of any kind of irony or exaggeration.  I’ll first address that this was the film that introduced me to the value of 3-D format. Nope it was not another famous  record breaking box office hit.  How to Train Your Dragon was the one who changed my perspective of how this can benefit a story on screen.  Rather then manufacture it as the sole reason to see a film.  I was engaged from beginning to end. 

One of the main reasons the story appealed to me was how it synonymously displayed it’s lead character as someone who was identifiable and admirable. There were uncanny traits Hiccup and I have in common.  Sometimes it felt borderline identical.  It was as if the filmmakers had been clandestine in studying many of my struggles and displayed them on screen for the world to see. A medium that has done a swell job at bringing to light self identity issues people from all walks of life grapple with.  Yet his resilience and resourcefulness despite being an outcast in his society is commend worthy.  And that was well before we even reach the middle of the first film.  This was already becoming a consolation piece of fiction for me. 

Then they bring in Toothless.  A character that in it’s roots is exceedingly difficult at earning sympathy from the audience.  Animal driven films in animation have a notorious history of dividing movie goers.  If they talk it seems cliche.  The redundant corny trademark people roll their eyes at.  If they don’t talk, the audience sees them as mere props for the human characters in their story.  They can’t resonate with the audience as they don’t know how exactly to relate to their plights if it is not verbally stated.  It becomes even more staggeringly challenging as he is a dragon.  For fiction has a long history for interpreting these fantasy creatures in the villain bracket.  Even author G.K Chesterton made a significant point on what their role was in literature.  “Fairy Tales don’t tell us dragons exists. We already know they exist.  But that they can be beaten and killed.”  The filmmakers of this franchise took a bold risk at turning this classic notion on it’s head.  Hoping the audience would be willing to surrender to their story.  That by using a different but equally classic adage of “The eyes are the window to the soul” the audience would understand and sympathize with Toothless as much as any human character.  Now Toothless to this day still has his detractors from professional critics and amateur movie buffs alike.  Regardless of that, he has touched my heart beyond compare! He is a fully realized character who is multifaceted and has his own dilemmas. 

Book series author Cressida Cowell, directors/screenwriters Dean DeBlois and Chris Saunders are so brave for taking this chance in creating a dragon themed narrative that is not about conquering a monster as a ritual in transitioning into adulthood.  But about the obstacles of earning trust from a creature that is long ingrained in everyone’s mind is apart of evil forces who live to bring humans emotional torment.  Sure this franchise is not the first to explore this theme.  And nobody on the creative team tried to take credit for it.  They all openly acknowledged their inspirations and thanked them for it allowed them to take a closer inspection of why it is rarely explored in text or on screen.  What they did though was unconventional (in terms of mainstream studio features)  in it’s own right.  

At it’s core is a love story.  Not the typical owner and pet fictional iteration.  A genuine brotherhood team love story. One that requires slower pacing.  Another risk the creative team was willing to gamble on.  Earning trust is not immediate.  Mainly being Hiccup’s goal to prove he is not a social leper. He initially intends to kill Toothless. His own unique empathy for Toothless leaving him conflicted.  He does not grasp why he is ashamed of what his tribe does despite all of the rules and regulations drilled into his conditioning.   But his conscious tells him otherwise. It is wrong to murder this frightened creature. He deserves to be released unharmed.  A travesty to the Viking culture he grew up in. Hiccup freeing Toothless then Toothless sparing Hiccup’s life is a shocker! Neither quite comprehends why they just gave their sworn enemy a second chance at life. But this question is an internal odyssey Hiccup is willing to take. 

Hiccup did not dive in head first expecting  Toothless to cuddle up to him and offer him a ride on his back.  This had to be a gradual process.  Trial and error. Repetition and reinforcement.  Compassion and respect.  All of these features were crucial of guiding their story about strangers who met under negative circumstances and would later become brothers in arms.  The filmmakers shamelessly display every bit of this.  Hiccup and Toothless unexpectedly become dependent on each other.  Hiccup needs to brainstorm and invent contraptions as to feel worthwhile as his upbringing as has gone awry.  Brute strength and fast reflexes are not in his being.   Toothless needs to fly to survive. Navigating from island to island in the archipelago.   They each believe their purpose is to make it by in a society that wishes to subjugate them.  They just want as little confrontation as possible.  The chance encounter of Hiccup trapping Toothless with his own version of a catapult and him later venturing into the forest of Berk to find him was the beginning of their “Forbidden Friendship”.  Hiccup and Toothless alike always knew they were misfits. But neither ever dreamed of having the agency of seeking someone or something out who could potentially be like them.  They both believed they were all alone in the world. That is why I find their journey so rewarding to watch! 

They never expected to find one another.  Let alone feel so joyfully fulfilled.   This in turn was why I was so emotionally caught up watching the films.  In particular the first one.  Pretty much everything they do contradict’s their society’s dictation.  Their lives are literally in danger by merely engaging with the other presence.  Their secret of knowing and allying with one another is a secret that casts as much liberation as it does a burden.  They can be themselves when alone together. Exploring new ideas and places. Yet Hiccup’s tribe is acutely aware something is off.  Initially believing that he is inadvertently discovering dragon weaknesses that could lead to concocting a plan to eradicate all dragons.  Hiccup’s time with Toothless runs dangerously low.  My heart was in my throat with dread they would be separated from each other.  Hiccup and Toothless together gives them a purpose to live! I wanted them to live happily together and in harmony in their society. 

Such a love story is often over hyped and I could care less as is has their characters saying a bunch of frivolous dialogue with empty gestures.   Love is proven through consistent actions.  The hardships Hiccup and Toothless would have to painfully face head on to reach a happy end was not glided over.  The creative team was not shy about offering it’s share of agonizing lows.  Hiccup’s self-esteem dropping to practically zero.  Same goes for Toothless.  I still can not get over how blatantly the filmmakers do that to these precious characters. It’s so harrowing it hits me every single time.  Yet these emotions happen in reality.  These fantasy animated films are a mirror to it.   No happy ending is worth getting if  the characters don’t hit rock bottom.  

This is precisely what this entire franchise stands for and why it has become my all time favorite piece of fiction. It is as emotionally draining as it is fulfilling.  And I want to keep returning to them.  Both films have this in spades!  For me personally this is is so rare to watch a film that has all three of these qualities.  But the HTTYD franchise still had unexplained factors I can’t wrap my mind around  that it stands above anything else I have ever come across.  All I know for certain is that it is special.   And I am forever grateful to have discovered it.  

Also a huge shout out to Animation screencaps for these! They alone can define this beautiful under-rated love story.   :)