#And he's also fresh off the 'you defile things' block | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drxwsyni · 5 years ago

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Comprehension︱Yandere Shinsou Hitoshi x f!Reader

Anonymous asked: “Could you write a one shot where the reader (female) is mute and gets kidnapped by yandere Shinsō who just thinks the reader is trying to avoid his quirk.”

a/n: *IMPORTANT* So, I had to do quite a lot of research for this oneshot to be medically correct. For the sake of clarity, the reader is depicted with Broca’s Aphasia, a branch of a speech impairment that lets them understand what people are saying to them, but are unable to form a verbal or written response. This can happen due to stroke or injury. I am in no way romanticizing this condition, this is a work of fiction and I don’t believe in these glorifying ideas in real life. Aphasia is a serious medical condition and should be treated as such.

Thank you to @theladyshinigami for helping me work out the outline to this oneshot, your assistance is always much appreciated <3

Warnings: mild violence, swearing, mentions of injury, imprisonment, angst, gen. yandere themes

7k words

“The only person getting in your way is yourself.”

A distinctive earthy aroma permeated through the air, the soft pattering of raindrops colliding with the rooftop foundation around him. Perched atop a ledge, overseeing the idle backstreets of the residential area he was appointed to patrol, Shinsou’s eyes landed on a crouched form on the streets below.

The last time he heard your voice was in the final school year before joining UA, the both of you planning on enrolling in the general studies course there. He was paying no mind to your counterargument―one he’d heard plenty of times before. You insisting that he’d become more than what some nonsensical individuals made him out to be, him blowing off the sentiment due to a long established complacency over the occurrence.

He fought with you over it, much to your dismay. In a fit of frustration you stormed off in the opposite direction, leaving him to brew in his displeasing thoughts. Now however, he wished he ran after you. Apologized for acting so insensitive, making a point to thank you for believing in him and lending him advice with only good intentions when others would cower in prejudiced suspicion.

The next morning he went to class as normal, except you weren’t there. The teacher explained you’d moved schools and wouldn’t be returning. He never got to say goodbye, the last interaction with you being one filled with undeserving ignorance against your warmhearted nature.

Now a full fledged pro hero, having trained relentlessly to become everything you sought to bring out in him, Shinsou remained motionless in the steady stream of rain. Not even the darkness of the 2 am night could mask those undeniably identifiable features.

That soft smile gracing your face, gentle and welcoming. He followed your gaze, laughing slightly in disbelief. Not just at how out of nowhere you appeared back in his presence, but at how you’d also managed to find his adventurous outdoor cat.

The two of you were protected from the downpour by a bus stop shelter, the metal frame being overtaken by wildly growing vines. His cat was perched atop the wooden bench, and you’d positioned yourself to be perfectly eye level with the affectionate feline.

If he wasn’t currently experiencing an intense wave of recollection having found that you were alive and well, he might be able to fully appreciate the sight for what it is―heart wrenchingly adorable.

Of course he found his cat cute, but you were on another playing field entirely.

He noted with fondness that at least outwardly, you appeared just as entrancing as the day you left him. With age brought new reasons for him to be enraptured with your being, maturity allowing new, equally soft features to shine through. Although shamelessly taking the time out of these ungodly hours to pet a wandering cat, it showed that you still held that same sense of innocence.

When you were younger, that trait had him deeply worried at times. It left you skittish in the wake of those who took advantage of your unassumingly positive approach to life. Of course he never treated you so wrongly, especially after you’d proved how the functionality of his quirk didn’t phase you.

But he never was there for you as much as you were for him. Shinsou didn’t really bother to ask you just how you were doing, if you were dealing with being treated in such a way all the time. You always made a point in making sure he was okay, but something always held him back from doing the same with you.

It was a level of intimacy he wasn’t quite ready for, no matter how much you conveyed your comfortableness with him.

Does she even remember me?

Giving a final few offers of attention towards the feline, Shinsou watched from his spot on the rooftop as you stretched out to be standing. Your black umbrella, already wet with rainwater from being used just minutes ago, popped open in quick succession. Carefully, so as not to step in the deep puddle of water forming in the indents of the sidewalk, you strided out from underneath the small shelter.

Regret for his past behaviour kept Shinsou at a distance as you turned away. However, the allure of wanting to see just how you’d grown in ways he hadn’t yet observed since he last was graced with your presence kept that distance unchanging.

With each of your steps away, he met with his own advance. Trailing you from the rooftops, Shinsou watched over your form, unconsciously guiding him further into your life. And, as it turns out―your apartment.

Judging the surrounding area, your home was just five blocks from his own. How long had you gone unnoticed, living day to day alongside of him yet somehow still so far apart?

Ever so slightly, he could see your frame shivering from the chill that the rain brought on. He hadn’t acknowledged his own discomfort, being far too occupied with your sudden reappearance. As you let yourself into the complex, Shinsou ran a hand through his damp indigo locks, attempting to ground himself with the information of your existence.

Having nothing of yours left to take in, not unless he wanted to make his own existence known to you, he resigned his duties for the night. With a brief phone call to his agency, the area was kept guarded with a fresh pair of eyes, allowing him to return to the sanctuary of his own home.

His cat was awaiting his return, pawing angrily at the door which was adorned with scratch marks at the base from similar occurrences. He ruffled the fur atop its head, earning a reflexive shake to remove the built up dampness from the cat.

Calloused hands slid a key into place, unlocking and pushing the door open for his pet to enter. It moved past his own advances with disregard for the risk of him tripping over its small body, Shinsou mentally cursing himself for letting the adventurous being out in the first place. But then again, it did allow him the opportunity to see his two favorite girls spending time together―so maybe the disrespectful behaviour could be forgiven.

The warmth that electrical heating provided did not go unappreciated, a stark contrast from the chill of the night air. Yet although the sensation was welcoming and capable of calming his mind, Shinsou could not simply return to the routine of basking in its comfort after a grueling and extensive shift.

You were out there, completely unaware of him―and he didn’t want things to remain that way. Even if he didn’t directly approach you to learn of the ways you’d spent all those years apart from him just yet, Shinsou still had to know more.

_____

You worked at a bar. Fairly low in traffic and on the edge of town, but a decent establishment nonetheless.

Call it impulse, but Shinsou couldn’t contain the urge to distantly concern himself with watching over you as you made the trek to your job. He respected it―the occupation you’d taken up. Although he didn’t observe you in action, he figured you worked as a waitress or something of the sort. The position made good money, and he knew you could fill the requirements with your kind attitude.

However, he wasn’t as fond of the idea that it was likely you’d experienced some unpleasant customers. It comes with that sort of job, and he was all too aware of the defiling thoughts people had, and thus the actions that resulted from them.

That was what got him to swallow any apprehension to meet you face to face. At least if he was in the bar, it’d make it easier to help you if someone came on a little too strongly.

Shinsou reserved the next possible moment to be devoid of any hero work. He sat down in the bar, ordering a drink to stave off the budding anxiety of finally meeting you after such a long time of being apart. He planned to play it off as coincidence―showing up after a long day, and just so happening to stumble into the bar you worked at.

But he never got the chance to. Shinsou could’ve sworn he saw you enter the building, but after sitting in the same spot for three hours, he never laid eyes on you.

So he did the next best thing.

Patiently, he leaned against the rough brick wall outside of the bar. A few moths batted against the artificial lighting above the heavy metal door to the back exit. The spot where he stood was illuminated with an orange glow, dissipating down the alleyway. Impatiently, checked the digital watch on his wrist.

The door’s handle creaked under the influence of someone turning it from the other side. Shinsou’s eyes shot in its direction, widening slightly as he pushed away from the wall.

Slowly, you stepped through the threshold, an exhausted sigh escaping your lips as you nudged your bag up your shoulder.

The moment you met his anticipated gaze, your own expression formed into a content disbelief. The door shut behind you with a thud, you remaining in one place as he made the first move to speak after clearing his throat.

“I, uh...I saw you, yesterday. On patrol―you were walking out of the bar so I assumed you worked here...You remember who I am, right?”

A wave of relief washed over him as you nodded, that oh so gentle and familiar smile enveloping the soft features of your face. You didn’t say anything, and he figured you were just too much in shock to respond.

Shinsou continued, “I ended up joining the hero course at UA―even have my own agency now. You were right about me, those assholes didn’t know what they were talking about.”

A swell of warmth enveloped him being back in your presence, and with being able to regard those kind eyes again, looking proud for his accomplishments.

But you still didn’t respond.

A crease formed between his brows, a once friendly smile faltering in confusion. If you looked so happy for him, why weren’t you talking back?

You always, always responded to him. Even when he was in a sour mood, you stayed consistent in your acceptance that although his quirk could be used for malice, it wasn’t something he’d ever do.

“Y’know, sometimes I get so sick of the way you act―self-deprecating no matter how much I tell you things won’t always be like this. And honestly ‘Toshi, it’s starting to rub off on me a bit!”

The argument was crystal clear in his mind, your words repeating inside his head as if you’d just uttered them in the present moment.

That was impossible though. You hadn’t said a single word, just standing in front of him in silence. He knew you understood what he was saying.

Only one explanation made sense―it was his quirk that was keeping you from talking.

As Shinsou’s expression fell with feelings of betrayal corrupting his previously relieved feelings, the look on your face changed as well. Like you hadn’t realized your mistake, you presented conflictingly.

You looked like you wanted to say something, but no words came out of your mouth.

The door behind you bust open, a few bar workers spilling out, sporting obnoxiously loud chatter. What appeared to be the ringleader of the group noticed the exchange taking place between the two of you first.

“(Y/n)! This your friend or something?” He slung an arm around your shoulder, the action putting a small grimace on Shinsou’s face. You looked up at the man, nodding while shifting uncomfortable under his weight.

The strangely affectionate worker regarded him, “Nice to meet you, dude! We were just headin’ out for some drinks―you’re more than welcome to join seeing as you’re all buddy buddy with this pretty lady.”

Shinsou gritted his teeth in irritation, feeling majorly uneasy with the developing situation, and with the worker’s behaviour. He didn’t take his eyes off of your shied form as he spoke. “Uh...I don’t really like crowds, sorry. Maybe another time.”

While that wasn’t a lie, his dejection was mostly a result of his stirred up emotions over your uncharacteristic behaviour.

“Uh...Alright then―see you around, man!”

The group dragged you along with them, forcing Shinsou to side step out of the way. As they stumbled out of the alley, he caught the way you looked back over your shoulder. For a brief moment your eyes locked, and he could’ve sworn he saw your mouth open as if to say something―anything.

Still huddled with the other bar workers, you disappeared from his sight as you exited the alleyway.

He stood there, immobilized with a torrent of how’s and what if’s racing through his mind.

“If that’s how you’re gonna act, then whatever. I don’t wanna deal with this right now.”

The sight of you walking away from him was ingrained into his being. Before, with a moment of stubbornness on his part causing him to unintentionally push you away prior to you disappearing completely. And now, as it appeared in how you finally believed his doubtful words all that time ago.

A low rumbling sounded off in the distance, and although the sky was steeped in darkness, the thickening of the air signaled an approaching storm. There was nothing left for him to do, far too riddled with inner turmoil from the meeting that was supposed to be the start of your rekindled relationship together.

Reluctantly, the indigo haired man made his way out of the alley, shoulders slumped with hands stuffed in his pockets. Out of all the people in his life, you were the only person who he was sure of to never lose faith in him.

And yet, it would seem his careless sentiments had more of an effect on you than he once thought. That day must’ve been the nail in your coffin―what he wouldn’t give now to rewind time and make up for those actions that unknowingly influenced you into your current untrusting mindset.

_____

He should’ve taken the encounter for what it was at face value, and subsequently move on before the regret could eat him up. But Shinsou was stubborn, he always had been with you.

It was far too easy to keep tabs on you. He knew you were naive, but never to this degree. And disturbingly so, it wasn’t just your naivety that scared him―it was how much worse you’d gotten since you were younger.

You always tended to let people walk over you, to allow those ill intentioned individuals to prey on your openness and take advantage of the kindness offered without hesitation. He hated that part of you, but still never said anything.

Maybe he should’ve―no, he definitely should’ve.

Aside from going out to work and the unavoidable errands, you were practically a shut in. Those coworkers he watched drag you off to whatever bar they had in mind that night seemed to be your only friends. And really, Shinsou didn’t even think he could call them that.

Not once had he seen them give you a chance to speak your mind. It was always about them, all day every day without fail. Clearly those years the two of you spent apart was used to foster this placid behaviour in you. He was always in suspense, waiting with worried thoughts for the moment when you’d open your mouth and finally put an end to the meaningless rambling of your questionable acquaintances.

And yet no matter how long Shinsou waited, observing you with the eyes of a hawk stalking its prey, the anticipated behaviour never came.

You weren’t quite the same girl he knew back before UA―before out of nowhere you just up and left with zero explanation.

Shinsou watched as you simply existed in the world around you. Ignored and never sought after for your opinion, keeping quiet while others took the spotlight. And you always let them. What was more alarming was the fact that even if those realities were harmless, your newfound behaviour was a cesspool for people with dangerously worse desires than the ones he observed so long ago.

Making sure he took the time to see you to work or as you went home, obviously entirely unbeknownst to you, was practically a mandatory task in his life at this point. It wasn’t his original plan, mostly because of how much it took away from his own work day―but once again, your behaviour had an influencing effect on him.

In passing one night, you nearly let a total stranger follow you home. Shinsou watched in disgust and horror as the man called out to you as you walked by him, spouting indecent nonsense from his foul lips. And you ignored him. Not even so much as a glance in his direction as you scuttled away. The man went after you, and the thought of what might’ve happened to you if Shinsou wasn’t keeping you safe made his stomach churn.

Sometimes your shifts weren’t consistent, resulting in him not realizing you’d already left, or that it’d be a while until you did―or even if you were leaving at all. But always making sure you were okay was his only option, the alternative something that he feared, and you would too if you’d just be a little more aware of your surroundings.

Although he preferred this routine of overseeing your day to day excursions, it didn’t hide the fact that his once repressed issues were starting to resurface.

Since proving himself to those who only looked down upon him, working hard and becoming a pro, Shinsou stopped experiencing the pain that came with apprehension from others.

You always did everything in your power to dissuade him from falling for those poisonous words. More often than not, he disregarded you. Now however, he no longer had the same problems of the general population judging him―just you.

He was upset. Angry with how you threw all that hard work and understanding knowledge of his problems to the wind. You were always there for him to be open with, and for what? Now that you were back, was he just supposed to forget about all the times you stayed with him when nobody else would?

Whatever went down in those years apart, it was clear that your final words and his nonchalant attitude left a deeper impression than he thought. You didn’t respond to him.

You were avoiding his quirk.

But you should know better. Even without his quirk, he was still able to bring forth what he wanted in people. What he desired to know, how he wanted people to behave. No amount of silence could keep you from that reality.

Shinsou was mad at you for how you treated him. Even worse, those hate filled feelings were brewing alongside fear for the way you’d changed. A nasty concoction of emotions, entirely directed at you. Before, it was you who put so much mental energy into the relationship, and now it was his turn. Shinsou didn’t realize how taxing that state of concern could be.

It was his job to make up for lost time and long perceived mixed messages. In doing so he would no longer want to rip his hair out at the thought of you so casually resigning yourself to the deceptive whims of those around you. And hopefully, you would realize your perceptions of him were misplaced. No matter what happened, you wouldn’t be able to avoid this.

He’d give you one last chance though.

Mostly, it was to make sure he hadn’t convinced himself that you were that naive. That what he was seeing day in and day out wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He wanted to make sure that the attachment he never really let go of wasn’t altering his perception of the truth. That maybe you were still the girl he knew back then.

He must really care about you, as the way he prepared to go about this moral evaluation went against the instincts that were relentlessly beaten into him from training for all those years to become a pro. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but realistically it was a perfect opportunity to show that even if you did resent him for blowing off all the kind sentiments you always offered without fail, at least you would be able to fend for yourself. Maybe if you passed this test he’d be able to get over the fact that you no longer thought he was capable of being good to you, with the ease of mind gained from other promising actions allowing for the energy to move on.

Honestly, he doubted that he would ever completely get over that, but at least with the notion that maybe you weren’t so helpless, he’d be able to return to the life he had before spotting you on that astonishingly coincidental night.

The sight made his blood boil―seeing you cower in fear from the men he’d sent to do his bidding. Knowing it was himself that was to blame for ripping away your sense of safety in the face of such individuals hurt him to no ends. Shinsou had to keep telling himself it was a necessary evil. There was no other way he could go on about his normal life thinking that in such a situation you wouldn’t do a thing to protect yourself.

And so he waited, eyes narrowed and calculating as the low level villains proceeded to back you into a corner. Shouting all the vile things they were going to do to you, laughing as you stumbled backwards with tears streaming down your cheeks.

You didn’t fight back.

You didn’t call for help.

Even as your back hit the brick wall, all you did was stand there in pure and unbridled fear, hyperventilating like a rabbit caught in a trap.

Your pursuers were a little confused at the sight too―they must’ve expected even a little resistance. But regardless, they went through with the orders they received anonymously, expecting a sum of cash for their troubles when all was said and done.

Shinsou let the scene play out for as long as possible. The seconds going by felt like hours as he silently begged you to fight back, to prove to him you hadn’t developed into a weak shell of a girl he once knew.

The quick and panicked breathing that was wracking your body got in the way of that. It was the fear that he’d let be inflicted that led you to pass out under the stress of the situation, telling Shinsou all he needed to know for what he was supposed to do with you next.

_____

Shinsou blamed himself for unknowingly convincing you to go against the ideals that you held so strongly before you vanished from his life. Even worse, he blamed you for finally believing his self-doubting words. You took them to heart, something he would’ve never expected you to do.

Mostly, he blames others for trying to take advantage of the person you’d become.

It had pushed him to do things he never wanted to. To put you in situations that you found terrifying, that confused you to no ends. And he knew from the look on your face how you were feeling.

Baffled and betrayed just as much as he was. At least he wasn’t alone in that sense.

Shinsou could admit that he could’ve been a little nicer to you after you woke up, subsequently finding yourself in an environment you’d never seen before. The only thing you recognized was him, but that did little to put you at ease once you realized he was the one to put you through so much distress in the first place.

He tried telling you that you were safe, that everything he’d done was to make sure that there were no other options aside from the current predicament. He told you that he didn’t want to see you so afraid of him, and that you didn’t need to be.

But that didn’t stop the wide eyed look you gave him whenever he came close to you. Shaking like a leaf whenever he was in the room, keeping your gaze fixed on him should he do something horrible. And he would never do something bad to you, so your reactions only made him feel so much worse.

Or at least, he thought he would never do anything to make your feelings toward him all the more apprehensive.

He was just so angry. Shinsou couldn’t get over the way you regarded him. The way you treated him like a villain. Everyone always used to tell him that that’s what he’d become. And you always told him he wouldn’t.

Yet, when he saw your face twisted in anguish for his actions, those kind words left his mind completely.

If he could just get you to say a single word, he would show you he meant no harm. But no matter what―no matter how much he tried to simply talk to you, a response never came.

And so he was always angry. Shinsou tried not to show it, to keep the intrusive thoughts and behaviours to himself. However, even that became a herculean task when you started to show pity for him.

It was the small actions.

You’d pick up after yourself, even when he told you that he’d handle everything. Shinsou would come back after a shift at the end of a particularly stressful day to see that you’d tidied the house, maybe vacuumed the floors, or cleaned the couch from the building cat hair against the fabric of the cushions where the small animal liked to sleep.

Knowing that you still resented him, yet let those complacent features shine through in your circumstances bothered him immensely. He would’ve liked it more if you stayed mad at him, at least then it would’ve shown him you were learning. That his little test of strength had paid off, and you were starting to understand the concept of what it meant to defend yourself. But even while you stayed consistent with the looks of passing despair and confliction, you never once made a move to leave him.

That wasn’t to say you enjoyed remaining chained to a bed at night, or how not once in the past month had you experienced fresh air. It was just that you didn’t ever try for the door, or even a window. Shinsou would know if you did, he cared a lot more about home security than you had after all―but the alarms signalling such an action never went off.

He knew that the main reason for why he kept you with him was because really, he loved you more than he loved any person in his life before. Having you around him constantly was great, even better was the fact that he knew nobody else would have the same opportunity.

The only problem was his guilt, and the way you mindlessly fueled it. That’s what kept him angry.

At himself.

At you.

At everyone.

It was only so long before those wrathful emotions took hold of his common sense.

Generally speaking, the atmosphere was calming. The fireplace was lit in the background, casting a warm hue to the dining room. A storm was beating against the window outside, the noise of the water hitting the glass dulcifying. Shinsou had gone through the trouble of cooking your favorite for dinner, it turning out better than expected. The pleasant aroma was the final touch to stave off rampant nerves, welcoming only thoughts to ease the mind.

But Shinsou’s mind was everything but at ease―you weren’t eating.

The issue was a persisting one. He didn’t know why you were doing it, only that the problem was becoming more of an issue as time went on. You were losing weight, becoming sickly looking. The food was right in front of you, and yet you remained still.

He couldn’t put up with it, breaking the silence that always hung unless he was the one to make noise. “You need to eat something.”

Just barely, you flinched at his words. He didn’t bother coming off soft, knowing he needed the assertiveness if he was ever going to get through to you. Your eyes flitted to meet his, not a second did they remain in place before going back to staring at your lap.

He persisted, “I thought this was your favorite―did you get sick of it after you left?”

The reference to your untimely departure had your brows furrowing slightly, a worried look forming across your face.

A deep sigh escaped Shinsou’s lips, him leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table while regarding you with a stern expression. “I promise I won’t use my quirk on you. I know that’s what you’re worried about, but you don’t need to be.”

Thick silence settled back into the room. He didn’t make a noise for fear of interrupting any potential motivation you might be having to respond. But you stayed still, eyes remaining downcasted. And more importantly―unspeaking.

It was probably a good thing that you weren’t looking at Shinsou, given the heated glare he was sending your way. With each passing second spent without you acknowledging his promise that you’d only heard a thousand times before now, the feeling of intense frustration inside him festered.

Another few moments, then a harsh “Fuck it,” and Shinsou was grabbing both of your plates. He had finished eating, always waiting patiently for you to do the same. It was clear you weren’t going to do so tonight though, and honestly, he was too pissed to even give you the chance to anyway.

He brought them into the kitchen, setting his plate in the sink while retrieving something to put your dinner in, should you be more motivated to eat it later. “You can just...go to your room for the rest of the night.” Shinsou spoke the words with a certain edge to his tone, not even regarding you as he talked over his shoulder.

Why couldn’t you just do this one little thing for him? It wasn’t hard―the food was good, even if it turned out not to be your favorite anymore. Was it really that difficult to even acknowledge the fact that he put so much work into making sure you were well fed?

The sound of your bare feet padding against the tiled kitchen flooring alerted him to your presence. You stood a few feet away from him, expression looking conflicted and, what he hated the most―pitying.

“I told you to go to your room, unless you’re ready to eat now?”

He watched as your eyes flitted to the dirty dishes, giving him another brief glance before you made your way to the sink. Carefully, you emptied it and began running the water, leaving a finger under the stream to wait for it to heat up.

Shinsou stood frozen, a hand gripping the edge of the counter that had his knuckles turning white.

“You don’t need to do that. Go back to your room.”

You paid no mind to his words, clearly not recognizing them for what they were―a demand.

Seeing this, Shinsou walked over to the sink, leaning over you. “What part of ‘go back to your room’ do you not understand?” He was trying so hard not to raise his voice, yet as he spoke his tone only grew in strength.

Ever so vaguely, you let out a small huff in frustration. You just wanted to help. It was the only thing you could think to do so as not to piss him off. Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that you doing so was exactly what was making him so mad.

And he didn’t realize that you thought you had no other choice.

Shinsou’s hand slammed down on the faucet handle, cutting off the stream and finally raising his voice to let out the pent up anger he’d been suppressing for so long. “So what, first you can’t give me a fucking response and now your straight up ignoring me?!” This time he forcefully moved you from the sink, shoving you away from it. “I try so fucking hard and you can’t even listen to me now?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

The moment the words slipped from his mouth, Shinsou froze in his place. You had stumbled back from the force of his push, now balancing yourself on the counter of an island that rested in the middle of the kitchen. You were looking at him wide-eyed, scared and shaking.

Like you had been when he sent those lowly criminals on you.

Like he was a villain.

“I...I didn’t mean that.”

You were already backing away, retreating like he would try to hurt you again, not only with his words.

His voice was quiet, as if any shift towards further aggression would have you breaking down. But it was too late when the tears were already streaming down your face.

“Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to be like that, I promise. Just―”

You were rushing back to your room before he could finish his sentence. The door slammed shut, him flinching as the loud noise reverberated off the walls of his home.

Three times now.

Shinsou had the courage to act as a hero, selflessly risking his own well being for the sake of others. He disregarded his feelings to make people he didn’t even know more comfortable, he knew how to de-escalate the tension and troubles of any situation.

And yet, this was the third time he had watched you leave him. The third time he remained in his place as you walked, or in this case, ran away from him. The coward that hid inside him while he remained a pro at work revealed itself in your presence.

He hated himself for it.

But he would fix things. Mend the gap in your relationship that was keeping you from opening up, and keeping him from being there for you when you needed it the most.

_____

Shinsou cursed himself for not doing it sooner.

It would only make sense for him to conduct some form of research on you, seeing as how close he’d made you be with him. He was just so caught up in his own feelings and inner turmoil to take the time to, and now he wishes he’d done it the moment he came back into contact with you.

Looking at the records on file of you nearly made his heart stop. For one, they were extensive, forcing him to spend copious amounts of time just sitting in his study and reading for hours.

The moment you ran off after dinner, he’d locked your bedroom door and left, resolving to find answers. And find them he did.

In the form of hospital records dating back to the very day you disappeared before high school.

You were in a car accident. The vehicle that had collided with the one your parents were driving hit the side of the car, but only at the back of it―where you were sitting. And it was bad, you had to undergo multiple surgeries to fix the damage inflicted onto your fragile body.

Amongst the repairs, the file of a brain surgery stood out. Along with the records of your rehabilitation, Shinsou learnt everything he needed to know.

You weren’t avoiding his quirk―you physically couldn’t talk.

The accident and the surgery left you unable to, and all this time you were putting up with his incessant encouragement to speak because you couldn’t tell him to stop. You’d left back then because of your inability to communicate like the average person, your parents moving you away for a fresh start―it was easier than having to explain to everyone what had happened. When you were older you moved back, it being the only place you truly were familiar with.

Shinsou connected the dots. Your physical condition and how it affected that of your mental state. Given your limitations, he could understand how you came to be so lenient with the way people treated you. You couldn’t tell them if you were upset, so it must have become easier to just let life have its way with you.

He clutched the stack of files in his hand, pausing outside your bedroom door. Even on his side of the frame, the quiet sniffles escaping your body were all too distinct for him. The sound made his heart clench in anguish, being painfully aware that it was all his doing. And if he had just taken the time to get over his own intrusive thoughts and stopped blaming you for everything, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.

Hesitantly, Shinsou brought his hand up to the door, giving a few knocks against the wood. When he heard the sad sound of your cries being stifled, he fished the keys to the locks from his pocket. Pushing the door open slowly, both as a secondary motion to let you know he was entering, and to use the time to brace himself, he let his eyes fall upon your form.

You had curled up into a ball on the bed, back pressed against the headboard. There was a blanket held tightly in your hands, shielding most of your body from his face. Your eyes met, and despite the dim lighting of the lamp to your right, he could see the puffiness around your eyes.

Shinsou stepped through the threshold of the door, letting it shut behind him. Your eyes remained trained on him as he made his way to the side of the bed you were closest to, sitting down on the edge.

Carefully, he set the stack of papers atop the sheets, sliding them closer towards your shaking body. He waited patiently as you fearfully reached a hand out and took the files from him.

As you opened the yellow folder keeping the documents in place, Shinsou broke the heavy silence.

“I didn’t know. And―I feel like shit for not finding out sooner.”

He had no clue how you’d react, so dreadfully, he kept his gaze on you as your fingers flipped through a few pages.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think―”

What he said now was more important than ever, knowing just how shaken your state must be due to his stupidly impulsive actions. Shinsou paused for a moment, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling before continuing.

“When you refused to respond to me the night I caught you at the bar...I thought it was because you were avoiding my quirk. This whole time―I assumed you’d given up on me after we had that fight, before you left.”

Your lower lip was trembling as he continued, a few voiceless sobs escaping your broken form.

“I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I was just frustrated that you weren’t responding, but that’s not an excuse for the way I acted.”

By now you had abandoned the flimsy records, curling in on yourself as your emotions took over. Shinsou watched as your body convulsed with sobs, listening to the way your breath escaped rapidly, with the typical sound of your voice accompanying the action missing.

He wouldn’t idly sit by as you hurt anymore. That was something he used to do, and look at where it got him.

Removing the folder from your hands and placing it atop the nightstand, Shinsou scooped you up in his arms. He took your place on the bed and sat down with you on his lap. Gently, he held you close to his chest, a hand rubbing up and down your back in a soothing motion as you continued to cry into his shoulder.

“I promise not to ever do something like that again. I know none of this was your fault, and I understand why you behave the way you do now.”

He knew that you’d still fear him after what he’d done, and the fact only made the sinking feeling in his chest worse. It was his fault you were so distraught, he could only assume that you were unable to find any way to tell him what was wrong before. And Shinsou had blamed you for your situation, when really it was out of your control entirely.

Now, he would have to make up for the damage he’d done.

Shinsou wasn’t sure how he was going to go about making amends for the problems he’d created, but one thing was for sure―it was still his job to protect you from yourself. He understood now why you’d grown to be someone who takes things in stride, far too much than one normally should. The way you behaved wasn’t okay, whether you quite realized that fact or not.

As far as he was concerned, your vulnerability wasn’t to be taken lightly. He’d seen first hand what could happen should he abandon you.

Letting you leave wasn’t an option.

You needed him, even if it took you a while to understand that. Shinsou knew you would likely continue to resent him for the treatment he’d subjected you to―anyone would. But he could handle it, that was his responsibility after all.

His fonder feelings for you never changed, only growing in passion the more time he spent with you. At this point, he wouldn’t be able to part with you even if you proved you could take care of yourself.

And so he resolved that you would never stray from his side, and he would always be there to take care of you.

Shinsou would’ve said more to you, but in the moment he doubted you would even hear him amidst the distress you were in. The voiceless sobbing continued, and he did his best to calm you, gently rocking you while whispering reassurances through the motions. He didn’t know what you were thinking, and he knew you’d never be able to tell him.

But actions spoke louder than words, and right now they told him that even just a bit, the way he held you was slowly calming you down with each shaky breath you took. So he didn’t let go, and you didn’t fight him.

In that moment, he knew he’d finally done something right. He was there for you in the way you’d been there for him all those years ago. It was how he wished he’d been when the regret plagued his being at the recollection of you walking away from him.

Shinsou wouldn’t let you walk away anymore. He’d take care of your silent troubles in ways that he knew nobody was doing for you before, in ways that you needed someone to help you with.

He understood what was to be expected of him now, and he would no longer let any self satisfying behaviour get in between the two of you ever again.

#yandere bnha #yandere shinsou hitoshi #yandere shinsou #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #yandere #yanderecore #yandere x you #bnha fanfiction #yandere writing

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imasimpforstevengrant · 5 years ago

Text

Into you

@raven-romanoff

@maristela1968

@flaky178

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Author's note:

First off... Gif made from the original video.

https://youtu.be/iqDUGD8SHF4

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I have to confess I wanted to write another smut for Arthur/Harleen since the first one I wrote wasn't so satisfying... So, here it is! It took me a long time to write it (two months, actually. Bless the writer's block, FFS) so I hope you like it!

Second, sorry for any typos because english is not my first language (Chilean Spanish Strikes Back once again lol).

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Summary: Follow up to "I feel you". After his first night with Harleen, Arthur cannot get enough of her... And she has more in store for him than just a few warm, kind words.

Warnings: insecurity, (considerable) age gap, self loathing, swearing, masturbation (both receiving), strong sexual themes, unprotected sex, mild dirty talk... And smut.

Words: 8.540 (sorry if it's too long. I hope you don't get bored)

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The clock marked 5:46 a.m. when Arthur opened his eyes. He had a blanket over his frail, undressed form and was alone. The missing presence of Harleen alarmed him, believing it was another painful hallucination or worse. The idea she regretted the union and decided to lock in her bedroom to sleep by herself harassed his mind incessantly.

As soon as the neon lights shone before his eyes, he knew everything was alright. He almost fell on the couch again, relieved. But he never stopped asking where she was, though the calm background around him tenderly convinced the convulsed psyche to not keep tormenting.

As he yawned, taking a seat, he replayed everything that happened a few hours ago.

He just had sex.

Chuckling, he lit up a cigarette. And thought about what happened one more time so his brain would memorize it.

Harleen allowed him to touch her.

The memory of her moaning and straddling him set him on fire. Harleen had such a good time and he loved to see her enjoying it. The killing eagerness to repeat the act, just to see her again coming undone, to hear her lustful moans slowly took over his mind.

He took a deep breath and looked for his hoodie. The cloth in question was found on a puddle of mixed garments, which included her peach coloured pajamas and his pants. Arthur took the blanket off partially to grab the sleeveless shirt with certain desperation to smell it, to prove himself this wasn’t his imagination. The sweet, fruity smell filled his nose, almost submerging him into a high state. It wasn’t enough, though. A profound nuzzle into the garment served as a vain way to revive the sensations experimented as Harleen let his mouth roam over her chest. He absorbed the fresh, fruity scent. Eventually the need the dirty habit brought with it overcame the ritual that reduced Arthur to a starving animal. As the hunger diminished, he put the piece of clothing aside. Arthur took his time, remembering the initial goal by rummaging the cloth puddle: the pack of cigarettes showed up coming out the right pocket in a scalene triangle shape. He took it immediately, also taking the lighter.

As he smoked his cigarette, for the first time he thought how lucky he was. As a malevolent chuckle reverberated through the air, he finally savoured what was that contact he yearned so much. A sensation of being an ordinary man nested on his heart. That’s what an ordinary man had, right? A job, a girlfriend, a sex life. He laid back on the couch again, bathing in this new, positive emotions. Looking at the shelf full of books, small crystal figures and a portrait of her holding a scroll, most likely her diploma once she got her degree. Arthur quickly got up to hold the portrait, watching it carefully. She seemed so… happy.

Returning the portrait to its original place, he stepped to the couch again. His thoughts clouded by the wonderful moment Harleen shared with him: loved how gentle she was, how considerate and patiently handled the loss of his celibacy in such an skilled way. It was the first time he truly felt in tune with someone in his entire fucking life. It was way beyond the physical bonding. He couldn’t find the words for it but he was sure about how he felt.

Seen.

While Arthur was searching another cigarette to smoke, another rowdy idea swarmed in his mind: he had never found himself attractive, given his eternal history of rejection from everyone and his frail appearance just increased the mute but obvious aura of dislike around him. What were the odds for a woman like Harleen to fall for him? One in a million. Her looks could perfectly allow her a good life as a model and her kindness and easygoing personality would even take her farther away from the poverty of the building. Yet, she didn't seem interested in pursue a better, new life. She could perfectly have any man at her mercy and still she preferred to stay, actually giving a damn about others.

Suddenly his self loathing bloomed fully again. What could he possibly offer her, except for misery and sorrow? Nothing. Nothing but a unquenchable thirst for her. An aged, pained soul devoid of love. She deserved better. A strong man.

A man of her own age.

Quickly his eyes closed. The hated guilt, the same he swore he had overcome, came back like a furious, stormy surge. Arthur felt he had committed an unforgivable sin by sleeping with her. She was so precious, so joyful... And so young. Things Arthur was far from. He was so inexperienced, so clumsy, so flawed... A dark part of him felt he had defiled her, that he had taken advantage of her gentleness to sate his own selfish desires. This sense of perversion flooded his mind, reducing the happy moment to a mistake that shouldn't have been. His lungs crumpled the air, if the smoke didn't disperse it. The hand that left free palmed the forehead, to drive away the negativity.

Suddenly his mind remembered the laughing fit. And the gentle hug that followed it. The pieces in this puzzle came together. Harleen holding him right against her chest in a searing yet tender embrace. Not even his mother would offer such comforting balm.

Arthur then let a short cackle to shatter the silence. He definitely had something but he did not know for sure what was that something. It had to be more than just being a 'hard working man'. If she was so gentle with him, surely a feeling was on the way. To his mind comes the tender memory of their first meeting. The first thing he got from her was a warm, kind smile through the fence.

Of course, the cursed fit fucked up everything. But it happened! The open palm patted his chest, calming down the turbulent flow inside of him. The happy memory of their first meeting brought also the passionate moment of the first kiss which almost led them to the bed.

Arthur processed a thousand things that night. But one thing was for certain: that night Harleen awoke a hunger he had never felt in his life. Never saying it but showing it in their kissing sessions. He remembered that one time when he was expecting her to return after her shift. It was late at night. His knee bounced while Arthur smoked three cigarettes in the meantime. But he wasn’t alone. There were two young men a few feet away who minded their own business. Arthur feared them to be robbers but nothing happened. He put his hoodie on and kept smoking. A bus arrived but she wasn’t among the four people who stepped down from the vehicle. Two more came, but she was never among them. It started to get on his nerves when a taxi finally stopped and revealed the lovely passenger:

As soon as Harleen set foot outside, Arthur jumped out from the bench. The two other men witnessed the scene: their faces changed from curiousity to actual surprise when the blonde threw her arms to the man who evidently was older than her. But the lovers didn’t care. Their kiss was so heated that the youngest of the two muttered “damn” under his breath. They couldn’t stop staring at them, but Arthur was too focused on sharing their lips in a desperate dance. He was oblivious to the envy he inspired in every man whenever Harleen would display her affection in public. Therefore, he didn’t care. He longed to take the initiative in their eventual intimate encounter but the fear his inexperience would ruin it prevented any attempt to start intimacy. Harleen was aware of how hard was for him to begin with physical contact, though he never denied it. She could tell he had so much to say by just looking at his eyes. Patience with him would pay off. And the worst part of all this? The fits.

The fucking laughing fits. And Harleen could only hug the pain away against her chest while his head found shelter in it. He froze in the position where he basically clawed to her body. It was the third time he had one in front of her, the second being in the empty subway after a date. It was after a careless kiss Harleen granted to his lips while waiting for him to go off work. He could tell she had been drinking: she was way more affectionate than usual. The spontaneous caress on his lips took him by surprise. He laughed at his fucking frustration on how he could possibly cope with what was regarded as the ultimate loss of personal space. He considered himself as a romantic at heart but Harleen’s overwhelming passion reminded him of how inexperienced he was, how unsure he was actually feeling relating to his damaged masculinity.

It was almost like a pessimistic prelude before their first night together, since Arthur did not have the chance to come closer to her disregarding sex. He just had kissed and embraced her, restraining his touches to her face, neck and waist but never beyond there. Arthur preferred the silent sensuality of passiveness, though he desired to sink down deep inside of her.

The crude self loathing drifted to another question: Where was she?

Taking the blanket off him and putting his pants on, Arthur wandered over the flat and saw a dim orange light glowing behind the door, which was open just a crack. Analysing the lit lines, he then paid attention to the steam coming from the bathroom. He stopped breathing, closing his eyes to not commit the sin to spy on her.

His right hand knocked the door, leaning into it expecting the answer. A few seconds later, her voice approved him to get into the place. Arthur got in, anxious.

The sight of her completely overrode his senses. He stood completely frozen trying to process, once again, what was happening. The mere action of this impious gaze was enough to make him turn his head. She bursted out laughing. And hearing she wasn't upset with his presence managed to look at her.

Harleen was on the bathtub, laying on her back. Her damp hair covered her chest while the foam didnt allow to see more of her body. This didn't upset him, of course. This new glimpse of his lover was something he would never forget.

Amused by his priceless expression, Harleen covered her face.

"Are you in need for another ride, Mr. Fleck?", She asked, temptingly.

Arthur licked his lips as he closed the door behind him.

"After that? Always". The steps towards her made Harleen change her position to lie on her side, to grant him a better sight. He sat on the floor, eyes concentrated maniacally in her figure. Her soft, wet hand touched his own, intertwining her fingers with his for a brief moment to kiss them.

Arthur stared at her for long seconds. Harleen didn't seem uncomfortable despite how much he struggled to remain modest. She couldn't blame the poor guy. Her pose was way too sensual to be indifferent. The appreciation showed a silent invitation for more intimate contact, for more comfort and company. He could only see her precious lower curvature showing partially. Her left arm covered her chest while supporting herself on the edge of the bathtub with the other hand. He loved how much sensuality she oozed even when she did nothing.

“Did you have a good sleep?”

Arthur replayed the question to process it.

“Yes” he simply nodded, “but it seems you didn’t. You weren’t there when I woke up”.

“I don’t sleep too much, Arthur. Just needed to take a bath to refresh myself after our hot, noisy turmoil”.

Arthur grinned widely. And it wasn’t only for the friendly reminder of why he felt excited. He darted his eyes towards the platinum strands of hair stuck on her face, falling down to stick to her shoulders and forearm, creating a sinuous curve that lined her hip with blue shades. After a few awkward seconds of silence, Harleen finally pronounced:

“So, since we’re in this situation… would you like to talk about what happened?”

“Yes”. Arthur was anxious to take advantage of any chance he’d had to end up in the bed with her. But he was too nervous to start a conversation about the subject. She noticed it and did her best to not put him in an uncomfortable position. Arthur just glared at her.

“It feels so different when you don’t have to lay your hands on yourself”, he cleaned the sweat that formed in his forehead, “it’s different to have a… um”, doing his best to retain the stammer that prevented a fluid talk, he tried to look for the right words to describe what happened in his head.

“A…?”

“It’s different when you see it than to experience it. It feels better when you have a body next to you”, he gulped, trying to swallow the nervousness, “it was a long little yearn since I began to understand these things about…”

“About sex?”

“Yes” was his answer, “I’m sorry if I sound strange. But this conversation is too personal and… and all this is new for me. I never thought I would be with a woman like that and it turns out it’s better than I expected”.

Harleen tilted her head, paying attention to every single word.

“Is there something you liked in particular?”

Arthur lowered his head, trying to think and replay the scene. From the passionate, tenderly patient foreplay to the scandalous and thirsty ride. There were so many good moments to pick one in particular. But then, her voice broke his thoughtful immersion.

“Or maybe was there something you did not like?”

This drew a devilish, naughty grin in Arthur.

"What's not to like about it?” his hand slicking back the fluffy hair, “We fucked like crazy and you ask me if there's something I did not like about it?", the verdant glow turned darker. Harleen rose an eyebrow, expectant. Arthur began to pant and cleared his throat in an almost hilarious way to hide his incipient arousal.

"I couldn't resist... I simply couldn't... because I've been wanting to do those things to you since I saw you--" a chuckle left his mouth at the raw confession. A painful slap on his mouth to quieten down the noise made Harleen immediately sat in case a fit of laughter would tear his throat apart again. Extending her hands to grab his forearms, the violent move shook her long, wet hair which allowed the loner to catch a glimpse of her naked chest.

The fit, thank goodness, never came. Arthur just coughed, waving his hand so any sense of worry Harleen felt would dispel in time. As things settled down, Arthur continued the talk where it left off.

“This—this feels like a very good beginning. But—“ his words concluded but his expression reflected a profound thought he couldn’t put words on yet.

“It’s alright. You can tell me”.

It took a long while to answer. There was almost completely silent if it wasn’t the for the tense breathing that Arthur fought to control.

“You really enjoy doing this to me, do you?”, Arthur embed the green spell his eyes had cast on her.

Harleen’s expression went from amusement to actual surprise. There was more from him to tell her, however. She nodded almost imperceptibly to give him the confidence he needed.

“You never felt uncomfortable with me even when you knew the things I wanted to do to you from the beginning. You let me kiss you, you let me touch you… you were never afraid to show me your body from the first day as you now do” he came closer to her, demanding answers, “until a while ago, I thought I could never awake those reactions on a woman. But I did”. He licked his lips, tilting his head to stare at her, “do you enjoy doing this to me?”

“By saying ’this’ you refer to… provocation?”

“Yes”, Arthur’s tone of voice revealed his relief to finally know the word for the aforementioned action.

Harleen hummed, thoughtful.

“I did not intend to provoke you to torture you. I intended it just to get your attention. You left just before the best part in our first kiss and I’ve been craving you in that way as well since. I wanted you to touch me… yet our caresses did not go beyond a cuddle or a kiss, so I thought that leaving the door unlocked after I arrived from work, wearing a few pretty clothes would give you a hint to come to me so we could be together like that at last”.

Arthur was completely mute at this point.

“But if you feel uncomfortable with me like this, I won’t keep on” she raised her hands in a childish sign of surrender. Arthur shook his head.

“It’s not the fact I don’t want to touch you. It’s… another thing. I know you won’t deny me your body. There are so many things…” he ruffled the disheveled hair in an involuntary move to relax.

“What?”

Arthur sighed, finally finding the courage to voice what troubled him.

“How’s that you don't feel uncomfortable with my condition or—“

“Or…?”

Arthur gulped.

The hardest (and the most perverted) part would come to be verbalised.

“My… appearance?”

“What the fuck is wrong with your appearance?”, Arthur sighed and replied:

“I look old enough to be your father!” the green eyes pierced hers. If only the thought of it was dirty, confessing it was downright indecent. Eyelids were tightened to the point it caused him pain, in a futile attempt to erase any improper thought in which Harleen was the protagonist. However, her voice exploded with loud cackles, splashing the water with open palms. Was she actually laughing at him? He frowned, getting upset and impatient to obtain a good answer.

“And…?” was all she said, much to his chagrin. The puzzled glare did not display satisfaction for his part.

“Doesn’t that… disturb you?”

“In the slightest. It’s actually quite the opposite” she supported her chin on the edge of the bathtub, staring up to him while biting her lip playfully. Then in a false pretension of innocence, she giggled, her hand making a move to tell him to come closer to her.

“That’s one of the many reasons why I like you very, very much”. The sweet sinful sound of the whisper was irresistible to Arthur, whose lids were almost completely closed, jaw slightly dropped. The reality of this situation caught him off guard. It was unbelievable to the point of obscenity and a persistent need to step back from his lewd intentions out of disgust on behalf of common modesty.

“I like you, Arthur Fleck" her face came closer to his and in a manner so typical of her, took his hand to open it from the fist it had reduced to in order to grant it a provocative kiss on his fingers, sliding the bottom lip against them.

Remaining silent and completely hypnotized by the scene, Harleen proceeded to trace invisible lines with the tip of her fingers on the early, harsh wrinkles that were more of a proof of how devastating his life was. It was a testament, a living, bleeding monument of how much cruelty and indifference could drive a man to insanity. Her thumb ran assiduously on his lip scar, which she found gorgeous to look upon. His breath shortened, pupils dilated, blood flowing to his groin.

Her digits now went over those adorable dimples that only increased the odd beauty of his mirthless, worn out face. His eyes moved from one direction to another, trying to cope with this tender attention, closing them eventually, leaving the embarrassment aside. He smiled but her voice shattered the moment.

“How can I judge you for a condition you did not wish to suffer?”, her fingertips ran over the notorious wrinkles in his forehead, “it’s not your fault”.

She admired the subtle silver hair that would make the brown hue fade in time, ending the journey all over his face.

“You find me… attractive?”

“Well of course I fucking do”.

Again, the green menacing eyes had the effect on her.

“What is it that I have that you like so much?”

Murmuring against his lips, she replied:

“You’re oddly attractive” she held his face to reinforce their bond, “and yet you don’t know it” she kissed the lip scar, “of all the men I've been with, no one has looked at me in the way you do".

Arthur set all his focus on the praising words, which served to mend or to relieve a little the inhuman treatment he had received from the world as long as he remembered. There was nothing he could do, except process and replay the words every time a silence took place between them. Kindness seemed a far ghost, a laughable little dream, a cruel joke.

A pause allowed them to hear a few cars passing by, followed by sirens of an ambulance. It didn’t matter, since none of them mentioned it.

"I've never met a man who's been so grateful for a kind greet or a simple smile. I couldn't help it that rainy day you came back from work to talk to you. At first I had an idea about my secret admirer simply being another guy who drooled over my ass. I would have never imagined the man behind my steps was so hungry for affection. Your eyes are an open book, Arthur. I noticed your intentions... and I liked the idea of you and me together like that from that night”.

Arthur directed his hands to her lips, holding the ever persistent, painful question that scarred his psyche:

Was she real?

His hands touched down her jawline and neck. Just a stare and Arthur told her everything. Because, somehow he knew that it was through an intense stare that lovers could tell the most intimate things. He spoke through his body, through dance. But what about sex? What about the act that dazed him so much? She actually understood why he needed intimate contact with such urge. The repression he hated so ardently for being a cruel insult to his ego tasted so differently now that she sated the thirst just to leave him craving for more. He felt… like all the years with no female attention were worth it if the pleasure people would lose their heads about was true.

"I want to make you feel good. It’s what you deserve. And if no one gives you relief, then I’ll gladly do”, she put a curly lock behind his ear.

But before any sparkly iniciative took ahold of his voice to manifest the need to consummate their relationship for a second time, Harleen pronounced, as a pleasant surprise for his intentions:

"Because you know” her gaze was pure, burning lust, “I could use a good fuck right now". Her tone of voice was seductive, though secretive, like confessing a small misdemeanor. His hand was not free from her soft grasp and her teeth gifted it with a tiny nibble. Arthur’s body stiffened, processing the words. However, no reply emerged from his mouth. The attention was entirely drawn to her face. The suggestive smile betrayed her reciprocity related to his intentions. He was so lost with the tantalising promise of more affection that he missed out the loving, yet flirtatious offer Harleen uttered.

"Huh?" Arthur shook his head.

"Come on, I'm bored". Her mouth adopted a puerile pouting in an attempt to persuade him, "I'm bored, play with me".

Harleen crawled out from the bathtub, exposing her bare, wet body for the loner to see. Arthur's breath immediately cut off, his heart galloping wildly. Her milky, marmoreal skin glistened with drops of water which marked thin creeks all her body before the enraptured glance of the loner. This was an erotic image that Arthur could have only dreamt of.

Once again his hands served as the eccentric – and intrusive – instrument to trace the almost invisible, indiscernible line between fantasy and reality while the blonde was only entertained by his obvious, euphoric goodwill to comply her wish. She sat next to him.

"P-play... with you?" He repeated, battling the urge to faint, holding her body in his arms.

"Like you did on the couch with me", her hands held his face gently to kiss it, to then throw her arms to his shoulders, “touch me, Arthur. Touch me. Don’t be afraid”. The mentioned man was unable to pronounce anything, reducing his exploration by touching blindly her waist and back. She continued pressing her nude body, taking delight on watching her Arthur plunged her into a solid, vigorous embrace, absorbing her, holding her nape so hard to not allow her escape, focused on how good her wet hair felt against his chest… as if her bare bossom wasn’t the best part of it.

Harleen slid her fingers over his left shoulder, becoming more familiar with the protruding bone. She placed her hand in the same place where Arthur told her not to. This caused an immediate response from him. As Harleen noticed the horrible, vast bruise all over the right shoulder blade. A gutural groan warned her. She quickly apologized. But Arthur shook his head.

“It’s nothing. People are not precisely kind when they see me at work”.

The dark brown eyebrows arched in a sad expression. Her left arm assured a stable position for what she had in store for him. Arthur had no idea of what it was, but he knew it would be mind-blowing.

“I can make you feel good”, he leaned his head in her forehead. Despite his celibacy was no more, all these touches were still new for him and he wanted to treasure them as much as he could. Air was heavy. The fear of another laughing fit ruining the moment clouded his mind but Harleen didn't seem to notice. The devoted, passionate embrace that held them so close just fed the fire inside him to take things to another level.

Specially when her hand, teasing and avid, slipped above the pants where his manhood had responded to the visual, constant incentive. Fumbling the part to gradually pull down the pants in an enthralling motion that rendered the loner totally speechless. Once the cloth allowed his member to be graced by her hand.

He gasped, jolting at the sensation of the damp but warm hand around his length. It was so unbelievable that just yesterday, that part had met his own contact during years. The rapture again battled with the persistent and its idea that everything was his imagination. Negative thoughts misting the moment. No kind touches except from Penny. But even she seemed aloof, unaware on how much damaged her own son was. This fade away once the caresses grew steadier.

The rhythm of his breathing violently shook his chest up and down. He undid the hug partially to stare at the zone she paid so much attention to. His fully erect hardness receiving such caring treatment was taken straight out of a fantasy. His eyes couldn’stop glaring at the precious sight of the delicate hand going up and down in a maddening sway. He threw his head back, panting.

“Like that--just like that- please. Don’t stop it”, he whispered, holding to the border of the tub, his voice broke out in agonizing moans, varying from groans and hoarse screaming, mixed with very sharp swearing as the building up to the peak made presence as minutes went by. His legs trembled almost uncontrollably, hips thrusting up constantly.

Harleen of course was greedy. Taking advantage of the situation, her mouth sucked the prominence located at his neck to then lick it. Her sensual chuckle vibrated as she slid down the free hand on his convulsed chest, tenderly pressing it to calm down the crazed heartbeat. It didn’t take too long for him to start feeling a vertiginous shiver that expanded all over his groin. Sensing the situation was started to get out of his hands, the blonde rushed in:

“Don’t hold back. Do it”.

Arthur gasped as the climax hit him. He groaned into the air as the fierce hustle concluded. He was shaking, trying to not make a mess. The niveous strings spread all over the floor. Harleen glanced the scene, amazed to see Arthur a little less stressed. He lolled his head back, still pursuing the first intense feeling standing motionless, arms to his side, almost in a trance. Nothing could take the wide smile off him.

A soft massage to his collarbone made the aforementioned man react at last.

“My, my. You’re such a bombshell” Arthur muttered, blatantly ogling her. She smiled, smooching his cheek to quickly get up, much to his surprise. Harleen took a towel to wipe her hands and her body, leading her steps out of the bathroom. The loner was about to protest when she asked:

"Are you waiting for an invitation, Mr. Fleck? Or isn't the sight enough to motivate you to come to bed with me?"

The fascination held him still for a second, thinking the words that echoed in his mind repeatedly while enjoying the blonde's shameless exhibitionism. He turned the lights off as he searched for her. The outside lights prevented a complete darkness in the apartment. The drizzle hit the windows, creating a perfect, almost dreamlike atmosphere.

He had to see her to confirm his yearn could become real. And so, he found her stepping into the promised place, while the towel dried the mane, which seemed longer now, almost reaching the highest part of her thighs. Arthur got rid of his pants immediately.

Just about to reach the other foot to the room, Arthur extended his hand to reach her shoulder so she could turn to face him. Harleen was unable to suppress a surprised expression at the glimpse of his now completely naked body, causing to drop the towel.

Once she called his name, Arthur took her face between his hands to crash his lips on hers, pressing them into his several times to crown the passionate caress leading her in to the bedroom, their bodies entangled, anguished in a needy dance. They almost tripped over but the weak white light coming from a small lamp on the nightstand prevented it. He didn't pay too much attention to the surroundings once his body fell over hers on the bed. It were only them in this moment, and being on top of her unleashed a feverish want his psyche and body were not capable to contain anymore.

"You've chosen wisely, Mr. Fle--" his tongue was so insisting on earning a place inside her mouth that her words didn't come. Not that it bothered her, of course. Arthur’s eyes shone in a different light. It wasn’t just an exciting new hue. His fluffy dark hair, his lean muscles made a combination that made Harleen genuinely think that the man who was just a breath away to possess her wasn’t Arthur. His eyes had become greener. His stare was not only predacious. It gave the impression that he intended to enter not only her body but her soul too.

Harleen extended her hand towards the lamp to sink the room in darkness. She was close to success in her action if it wasn’t for Arthur mimicking it, just to ask her not to.

“It’s more exciting in the dark.”

“Why?”

“Because you only feel. You see nothing”.

Arthur whispered against her mouth:

“But I want to see you”.

Harleen rolled her eyes, laughing.

“Alright then” she chirped. Arthur covered her neck with doubtful kisses, afraid to make a wrong move. He then remembered:

(Like in the couch).

He stopped his course to descend to her chest. Harleen paid extreme attention to his reactions, which drifted from amazement to utter joy.

The man stood quietly, admiring the messy mane at her sides. A pink, bluish disaster covering her chest. The dark sense of dominance proper of a man who finally felt control over his life acquired a lighter shade as he distanced himself from her just enough to appreciate her astonishing beauty. Carefully, he slid a hand to dedicate his attention to the blue strands of hair, curling it around his finger, as he fantasized about for so long.

Harleen did not interrupt at all. This eccentric – but precious - way of communication was also new for her. What started as a simple invitation for a sexual encounter was progressively turning into a passionate discovery about each other. She knew Arthur wasn’t the most experienced man when it came to sex… but his enthusiasm was in no way to be questioned. Actions spoke louder than words.

The pink strands of hair winded around his fingers, uncoiling as his digits made it aside to have a good vision of her uncovered breasts. So focused he was that he did not come to realize Harleen moved her arms to allow him a better access. She looked at those arms. God, those arms. Veiny, hairy, bony. Inhabited by little spots near the elbow. It drew a sharp contrast with the softness of her skin. Soon, she would pay attention to them.

His facial expressions were a wonderful mixture of arousing disbelief and sincere admiration. Arthur seemed to be thoughtful for a few seconds on what he was going to do but he dared to slide his fingers over her collarbone, not leaving any inch of skin untouched. Then, he lowered to the sternum, circling it carefully to direct his ravenous digits to her left breast, studying the orbed part cautiously, examining its shape. The dedicated, paused fondling of it elicited a soft moan from her.

An evil, perverse grimace delineated his lips. Ah, that beautiful, sensual sound resounding again. How could he resist it?

It was with a predatory inflame that Arthur threw himself to pamper the zone with his mouth. The sudden outburst made Harleen grunt for air, grabbing the bedsheets, a violent spasm shaking her legs, making her toes curl. The voracious appetite he devoured the breast was combined with such despair that seemed the act was far from satisfying. Despite she was aware of Arthur's consistent (and certainly disturbing) fixation with female chests, she preferred to stay quiet about it and enjoy the use he gave to such compulsion. He did not restrict it to a simple suckling, as Harleen saw how he nuzzled his face against it to then cover the damp, shiny skin with kisses, sending shivers down her spine.

“Oh, Mr. Fleck… You do know how to put your mouth in use, do you?”, she felt high. As if she had taken a drug.

The flattering words enlivened him to concede the other breast the same treatment and Harleen couldn't stop flailing, now completely taken by the action. The unoccupied hand fondled her belly to pass over the hip to end in her thigh. When his mouth detached from the hardened nipple, he licked all the way up her chest and neck, savouring the salty taste of her sweat, causing Harleen to ragingly rear up. Arthur ascended to face her once more just for her to grasp the strongly angular wrist once his arms found themselves near her waist. He frowned, confused. But his apparent disapproving look contorted to a one of complete flabbergast when Harleen opened her mouth so her tongue would coax his index and middle fingers, oiling them to steer the hand towards her searing feminity. His eyes widened, like a small kid watching in awe a mischievous deed. The absolute lewd look in her eyes erased any logic sense on him, if there was any in first place.

“Sure you want to warm up things first before diving in, do you mr. Fleck?” she spread her legs and Arthur lowered his head, dealing with the joy that overflowed his being.

“Yeah”, his murmur was impatient and euphoric, “I can’t wait to…” he couldn’t say it.

“Come on. Don’t be shy” she chuckled, frisky, “say it”.

“I just can’t wait to do it inside you”. She gladly approved as their hands went on tune on her intimacy. Arthur was startled, “but I don’t… I have never done this to a woman”.

Harleen nodded eagerly.

“Then allow me to show you how”, a toothy, naughty grin was all he got as a reply. He ended up emulating her. The grin was substituted to a temptative whisper:

"There... There". The first touches to become familiar and then to please them. This new action left Arthur completely speechless. A mess of joined hands constantly massaged the silky, wet little space of hers. It didn't had an effect on Harleen only, making the rigid consistency return.

He smirked, evilly, as they took their time. Despite his restiveness, he knew patience would pay off. The caress went over the slick folds which soon would welcome him, kneading it constantly. His slender fingers then began to approach by own initiative, applying what he just had learned. Seconds later, with the same patience, Harleen made him stop precisely at the weakest point of a woman. He sensed a humid nub. As their hands began rubbing it, Arthur noticed it made her body jounce, a chain of gratifying sounds fleeing her throat. He was not able to stop staring at the body part receiving the sweet and lecherous attention, putting more effort into it. Gradually her hand got away to let him take the iniciative now, encircling it.

The uncontrollable tremble that shook her legs made her close her eyes. Arthur stood there, his hand still stimulating her sex as intensely as posible, spellbound, captivated by her reactions. He leaned a bit when her breaths stirred her chest for more air. The blonde panted, trying to look for something to cling to as she was coming to her peak.

“Arthur… I can't—I can’t endure it anym—“ The phrase marked the last thing she could control before the fulminant end. Mellifluous moans came from her mouth, praising him, calling his name repeatedly. He was certainly bewitched at the image. So lost in the ecstasy that only the amatory practice could bring her, Harleen missed the fact Arthur did not blink in any moment, recording obsessively every move.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about” his chuckle causing her insides quiver. He loved how her muscles twitched on his hand, priding himself on the magnificent reaction he had caused on her.

Arthur patiently awaited for her to regain her breath before the best part would take place. He placed his hands at her sides to remain firm, his muscles tense and strong as a rock, marking the defined biceps Harleen loved so much. She opened her eyes just in the right moment when the hungry loner expected to end the hunger that harmed their souls so much.

Harleen caressed his cheeks with the backs of her hands. Arthur leaned so their foreheads would touch. It was a torture for him as well. He placed a hand on her hip, sliding it down to the inner thigh, aligning his stiffened arousal in her entrance, brushing the sensitive nub with his tip. The tease took her breath away, making her spine twist.

"Oh, God… please… please…", her vision blurred, her senses numb.

"I know"

"Please!" She begged, "I need you inside of me, please". The hopelessness in her voice did not manage to act immediately but it certainly had a great impact on him. The fear of not being capable of carrying the dominance now sparked a furious, impetuous need to silence the voices that insisted he wasn’t man enough to please a woman.

Through a furious, vehement move, Arthur finally made his way inside her, a sharp hiss and a vivid expression of sexual bliss seizing his facial features. He abruptly shut his eyes at the tight inner grip, lips slightly parted, hearing Harleen let out a long, languishing moan. She arched her back, squirming beneath him. Arthur smiled, extremely pleased at the erotic reaction while still trying to find a more comfortable angle to keep doing his part. He wanted more, however, and he was gonna manifest it by holding her chin in his thumb and index finger. Harleen opened her eyes while Arthur awaited her reaction as she received him fully. Taking a deep breath, he managed to open his eyes to cherish the fantastic view of her trying to handle his hard length making a place inside the best way she could. She held his head, carefully tugging his curls.

Invader and invaded stared at each other.

"Take your time... We're not in a rush". The calm words soothed the anxiety prior to sex but the pleasure the act had to offer them rushed him to resume their act: Arthur deepened the insertion into her hot, velvety intimacy. Harleen gasped while becoming used to his presence inside of her, taking utter delight in the raw feeling of her warm walls adjusting to the intrusion, sensing every nerve shuddering and throbbing around him. Her mouth was open, yet no words were articulated. Maybe because they weren’t necessary.

As for the loner, his vocal expressions of pleasure went from a heavy gasp, then to a loud groan to a thunderous moan.

"Fuck---!" Arthur cried out, while struggling to form a coherent word but he was way too aroused to dedicate energy to other action, except for moaning against each other's mouth, never breaking eye contact.

The first few seconds following their fleshes fully merging into one, Arthur experimented with paused and insecure moves, afraid to hurt her if he ever accelerated the pace but also afraid to ridicule himself if he’d last less than one minute. His slow thrusts allowed a better way to cope with the overwhelming, tight heat that kept their privacies tied together. He caught an steady rhythm that finally eased down. Sliding in and out, down and forward. Just two individuals who tried to bond despite their differences.

“Y—You”, Harleen suddenly pronounced herself. Arthur huffed for air as he paid attention, “you feel… you feel so good inside me”.

“I can--, I can tell”, he could hardly articulate.

Pressing his body against hers, Harleen whispered:

“We really lost a lot of time, did we?”

She let her hands, avidly and blindly, over his chest and collarbone as his hips, by mere sexual instinct, insisted on a faster, harder pace. To increase his confidence and to let him know she enjoyed it, her legs pressed his hips. For a moment, Arthur stopped, taking the opportunity to regain all the air in heavy pants. Harleen held his face, making aside the curly, sweaty locks that formed over his face. His aroused but exhausted expression was a delight to see.

“I swear to God—“ his ragged breath made his voice sound raspy, “if you keep doing that—“ another difficult exhaling move, “I won’t last too long”.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to”.

"I'm not upset" his shortened breath intake aroused her just as much his insertion did.

The rain intensified. Drops clashed against the window. It proved to be a pleasant background sound as the two lovers expressed their feelings through their bodies. Arthur certainly had the time of his entire fucking life engulfing himself in her over and over and over again. The rhythm worked perfectly slow for the two of them as they slid together, in perfect harmony, over the bed. The pace that carried them away from sanity was combined with passionate, wet kisses, sometimes tugging on his bottom lip and tangling her tongue in his mouth, kissing him behind the earlobe, whispering sensual words.

Arthur had the perfect gift to reaffirm his existence and Harleen’s whispery voice calling his name just ended up pushing him deeper and deeper. Where did he suddenly become so strong to hold on for so long? He’d never know.

Between moans and kisses, Harleen returned the passionate gestures with a strong, bloody scratch in his ribs. Arthur broke the kiss with a loud, pleased groan, responding to the scratch with a harsh thrust. Harleen screamed beneath him. Arthur, lightheaded by the sexually charged response, just stood still, trying to not give in to the already close peak of the act.

Harleen was ready to make clear how much the sudden irruption had upset her when she heard an unintelligible mumble.

"Uhh. What?" Harleen could hardly heard his petition.

"Do that again", he whispered. The frown on her eyebrows revealed how much puzzled she was.

"Do wha--?”

The harsh thrust took her by surprise, as expressed by the intoxicating sound that made Arthur so infatuated. As he delighted in the joy of obtaining exactly what he wanted, Harleen heard a a sweet, malevolent whisper:

"That’s better...". It ghosted his lips, more to himself. He supported entirely on his arms, to keep on the rough onslaught. Those screams were music to his ears and he had plenty of reasons on why he deserved to hear more of them when he believed she had something else to say.

The blonde mouthed. And Arthur read her lips.

(Harder)

Harleen placed her hands at the sides of her head, abandoning herself to Arthur‘s mercy. She wanted it? She would get it. Another plea gone with the air, an arm on the matress reinforcing the pace to make it rougher and rougher. She felt she was unable to speak his name anymore, not knowing what aroused her the most: if having him inside her or hearing his assiduous effort to breathe through the final and most exciting part of their act.

Exhaling aggressively, Arthur hung on to the mattress to harden the already brutal slamming that had reduced Harleen to an incoherent mess. His jaw dropped as the pleasure was becoming unbearable, growling as he leaned his head to keep closer to her. His arm was a key to maintain the disastrous rhythm as unrestrained but steady, grasping the wood which mattress was made of. The limb showed hard lines, ligaments standing out of the skin.

She legitimately thought, in a short moment of lucidity, that his arm would end up breaking it down. Neither of them heard a furious knocking on the wall, asking them to quiet down their sounds. Even if they did, they wouldn't care. Harleen sensed he'd love the idea of the whole building hearing their scandal.

When the excessive sensitivity down there traced a faint line between pain and pleasure, her moans echoed louder and louder, pushing Arthur to his limit.

“Look at me”

It was hard to keep eyes open at this point. Harleen did her best but Arthur mistook it as another little game of hers.

“Look at me”, he hissed.

She inhaled deeply, turning her head towards him.

“Look at me!” he yelled, desperate.

She quickly did as he demanded.

“Look at me when it happens”, he was not angry, despite the fierce, crazed stare suggested otherwise.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hissed under his breath, trying to keep up with the rampant search for release despite how much exhausting it proved to him. He wasn’t willing to be defeated: his hands fell to her sides to pound faster and more erratically, almost tearing the bedsheets. Harleen was unable to speak now, restricting to whimpers that granted him an inconmensurable feeling of power.

Then it happened. It caught him sooner than he initially had intended, but that didn't make it any less delightful. The blonde screamed his name at the top of her lungs as the spectacular orgasm hit her.

That was too much for him to bear.

One more enthusiastic, desperate thrust and it was over. Harleen had no control over her reaction, imprisoning him completely with her legs and arms crossed over his body. A hot attempt to retain her lover, clenching as hard as she could possibly do. They shared a fleeting gaze as he spilled himself in a wave of nervous, uncontrollable convulsions that spurred his nerves. She would never forget the expression that moulded by the moment: his face was an authentic, vivid expression of ecstasy. His eyes closed, catching air, sweating profusely, rebellious locks falling down. The desperation in his voice diminished to a pleasured groan to a exhausted, but satisfied series of sighs. He finally collapsed on top of her, hiding their faces in each other's neck.

“Easy…” she muttered while Arthur bathed in his newfound masculinity. She knew the magnitude of his enrapture when he displayed no reaction at all when she caressed his hair.

Arthur was enjoying his blissful release inside her, memorising every little sensation. The soft sighs escaping his mouth made her believe he had finally lost the little touch he had left with reality.

He still wanted more, though. Arthur refused to break the physical bond, not getting over the warmth narrowing around him, looking for more thrills, seed still dripping.

“You’re hard to quit” Arthur hissed, breathless.

“I'm not asking you to ”, and both laughed.

Harleen untangled a few curls, enjoying how they recoiled to their original form, emptiness replacing the fullness of his presence once he was gone. Laying on their sides to face each other, now under the blankets. The water falling in the sky helped them to concile slumber.

"I'll be hardly out of you after this, Harleen" was the last thing she heard before lights were off.

________________________________________

It was cold. It was wednesday and the train was full. Arthur had gone early to his weekly therapy with the social worker. Once he reached the building, waiting in the hallway. He smoked a cigarette, journal on the inner part of his hoodie, a confident smirk lining his lips.

The grimace did not change at all when he got into the office, greeting her and taking a seat. It started with the usual 'how's your job?', 'are you having negative thoughts?'. Arthur replied more confidently, without avoiding eye contact as he always did. The worker noted immediately a dark, evil glint in his eyes. He couldn't stop smiling just as he couldn't see how much his new attitude unsettled her. She decided to ask for his journal, asking if there was something wrong or different. Arthur just took another long drag of his cigarette, smiling to himself.

Once the copybook was handed to her, the worker noticed a brief, new sentence along a photograph of a beautiful young woman whose platinum hair showed different colours from the half down. She was dressed in a short red dress and smiled.

She read outloud the phrase written in red. Arthur had to suppress a cackle to not get too much attention from her. He deducted by her expression she did not understand it but he did not expect her to.

“I’m prod of mysel”.

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popunktomlinson · 5 years ago

Text

fall ‘19 rec

re-read:

Pull Me Under - zarah5 (140k)

AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis' favourite teammate, Liam as Louis' agent, and Zayn as Liam's boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.)

new:

Tell Me When You’re Ready (I’m Waiting) - insufferablelovebirds (17k)

When Harry's love letters to his old crushes get sent accidentally, one of his old crushes, Louis offers to help him fake a relationship but it gets complicated when feelings get involved.

Or an au loosely based off to all the boys I've loved before.

your rainbow will come smiling through - hazkaban (17k)

when harry isn't working at his stepfather's cafe, he's trying to make swim captain and trying to finish all his coursework on time. when he's not doing any of those things, he's talking to the boy he met on the oxford hopefuls subreddit. when they decide to meet, he's elated. he finally gets the chance to meet the boy he's been crushing on! when the day comes to meet his prince, he learns that his online crush is none other than louis tomlinson, captain of the football team and friend of his terrible stepbrothers. now harry has to decide whether telling louis the truth is the right choice or if it's better to just let sleeping dogs lie.

I’m A Man Who’s Got Very Specific Taste - patdkitten (4k)

“Birth control is getting expensive,” Louis repeats aloud to himself, focused on the medical bill he's just opened as he blindly locks back up his mailbox. “I could just stick with suppressants and condoms.” He continued, muttering to himself as he folded the bill back up. “It's not like I have a boyfriend or a mate or anything like that to merit continuing taking them.”

“Do you normally announce your sex life in front of the mailboxes?”

There's a strange alpha in the building that Louis calls home and he thinks maybe he'll make a proposition to the alpha. It goes a bit different than expected.

Love Isn’t Always on Time - messofgorgeouschaos (45k)

Falling in love with your best friend sounds like a good idea, until he comes back from a work trip engaged to another man. A Made of Honor AU.

Sonic Sounds - glasscushion (6k)

"Harry takes a deep breath, suitably embarrassed, “I’m just really...” and he can’t say the obvious. He can’t just say really wet."

Harry loves feeling embarrassed. Louis is happy to help.

Sit Next To Me - allwaswell16 (12k)

Harry Styles of One Direction always gets what he wants. Well, nearly always. What he can’t seem to figure out is why the very fit man who comes to assist Liam’s tattoo artist seems to have zero interest in him. Is Louis Tomlinson the straightest man alive? Or does Louis showing up for every show on tour mean something more is going on?

Howls Like A Beast (You Flower, You Feast) - indiaalphawhiskey (17k)

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

red hands - reveries_passions (132k)

a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

My Favorite Word - lightswoodmagic (3k)

“Nah,” Niall replied, typing on his computer and gracefully ignoring Harry’s embarrassment. The grin remained though. “He has a pretty specific...type. You could go help him out, you know. Pretend to be his boyfriend.”

Harry choked on the water he’d just swigged, his face brighter red still when everyone in the library turned to stare at him.

Or, Louis’ ex boyfriend won’t leave him alone, so Harry steps in.

Welcome Back From The Friend Zone - 2tiedships2 (32k)

“As we are both aware,” Louis began. “You are continuously complaining about not having the kitchen appliances needed when you want to make some of those random recipes you find online. And your precious waffle maker died recently.”

“Where are you going with this, Lou?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

“We need to pretend we’re getting married and send out announcements to rich people. Like billionaires who don’t know who we are.”

Or the one where an idea to create a fake wedding with the sole intent to receive gifts from billionaires took a turn no one, but also everyone, saw coming.

No Turbulence Please - wetdandelions (5k)

It's just Harry's luck that his rut hits right before his concert when he's stuck on an airplane with his best friend as the only omega. Luckily, Louis doesn't mind helping him out. All for a good cause, of course.

Stay Forever - allwaswell16 (6k)

For the last year and a half, Harry has spent his coffee break at the same cafe every day, not because he loves their coffee, but rather because of the gorgeous omega behind the counter making the coffees. As a beta, he’s sure he doesn’t stand a chance with him, so he goes online to find as close a substitute as possible.

A camboy au

Into Always - jaerie (4k)

Harry finds his ex's knotting dildo and gets a little curious. Louis is more than willing to help out.

The End Should Be A Good One - bannanasandboots (43k)

It doesn't feel like falling in love, the way it had felt the first time around, easy, simple, almost like floating, wrapped up in a whirlwind of touches and kisses, late nights spent laughing breathlessly into each other's skin. This feels broken, complicated, like every move carries the weight of their past. Like the floorboards beneath them could collapse at any moment. This doesn't feel good.

Or, the one where Harry loses the love of his life on New Years Eve and finds him again, six months later, ready to open some poorly-stitched wounds.

Send Me Your Pillow (The One That You Dream On) - flowercrownfemme (3k)

Harry is embarrassed to realize he's nesting but can't stop stealing Louis' things for his nest.

Hey, Mr. DJ - allwaswell16 (5k)

Harry really, really does NOT want to go out to a club tonight and be hassled by a bunch of alpha knotheads, but against his better judgement, he finds himself alone on the dance floor, barefoot, with an orange in his hand. This is all Niall's fault. At least the DJ is the most strikingly gorgeous alpha he's ever seen...

spice up your life - bottomlinson (9k)

After a conversation with his Uni friends, Harry worries that his relationship with Louis has lost it's spark.

(aka: an incredibly silly modern day love story ft. awkward boners, grumpy neighbours and Cosmopolitan sex tips.)

Falling All In You - dimpled_halo (16k)

Louis wins a contest to meet Harry Styles even though he doesn't consider himself a fan. What he doesn't expect is to win over the popstar's heart.

Floating - Snowy38 (56k)

There's places that you can go to get help. The doctor's, psychiatrists, psychologists and all that run in between. And then there's places that fall on the edge of those recognised institutions. Places that offer the kind of therapy that most medical boards would reject on the ground of ethics. That's the kind of place Louis Tomlinson needs. It's the kind of place he has found. And so he goes. To a sex therapist with an unorthodox way of curing...by actually having sex.That therapist just so happens to be Harry Styles.

Don’t Move In (Don’t Move Out) - 2tiedships2 (14k)

Only one more week and Harry would be living under the same roof. Gone would be Liam’s alpha scent, quickly replaced with Harry’s. All Harry. Louis was going to fucking die. You’d think Louis would be used to it by now, that Harry’s scent would simply fade into the background like Liam’s did. But Louis had a feeling he would simultaneously be living in Heaven and Hell once Harry moved in.

Blockheads (Building a home with you) - bitter_leaf (38k)

Louis is a no-nonsense contractor with a score to settle. Harry is an idealistic interior designer who just wants the world to be beautiful. When they decide to go on The Block, a reality TV show about renovating, they’re not prepared for what else they might build together…

unfinished:

Shake Me Down - AGreatPerhaps12 (206k)

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Fall Into Your Gravity - zarah5 (74k)

AU. In which Harry is an overnight pop sensation and Louis steals plants, Zayn pulls Liam's proverbial pigtails and Niall's really just pleased there are more girls for him.

And The a Bit - infinitelymint (159k)

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

#fics #read #fic rec #mine

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stusbunker · 6 years ago

Text

Known: Case of the Weak, Part B

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Demon!Reader, Sam, Female Vessel OC, a nameless trucker and some guy named Alan.

Summary: A discovery and an exit strategy.

Warnings: Talk of vomit, possession, angst, blood, consequences.

Series Masterlist

March 25, 2014

The Bunker

Dean felt nauseous.

He had stepped into the spare bedroom CC stayed in to change the sheets and the stink of sulfur hit him like a right hook. It was everywhere, the bed, the desk chair, little dusting of yellow flakes that stopped him in his tracks. He closed his eyes as the rage poured through the Mark and into his veins. A tiny voice inside his mind replied, ‘And you call yourself a hunter.’ He clenched his fist and released his jaw, taking in one more deep breath of betrayal.

“Sam!”

“Yeah?”

“Just come here a sec!” Dean barked, the energy drained from him as the terrifying possibilities came crashing into focus.

“What is it—shit, it reeks in here,” Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t test her?”

“I was a little preoccupied!” Dean admonished, “what? You didn’t either!”

“Is she?”

“No, she’s alive or at least she was last I saw her. How did I miss this?!” Dean’s eyes finally locked onto Sam’s. Sam swallowed as he realized how deep this cut into Dean’s carefully crafted armor. Dean dropped onto the perfectly made bed, elbows resting on his knees as he tried to gather himself.

“You’re telling me,” Sam huffed, then their old friend suspicion surfaced. “Crowley.”

Dean pulled his bottom lip against his teeth, shaking his head as it didn’t add up.

“He was pretty keen on meeting CC, Dean.” Sam mentally walked through the day at Magnus’s and the last time they saw the King of Hell.

“Oh god, Sam. What if it was one of the ones that defiled my Baby?” Dean stood and stormed down the hall toward the bathroom. “I am going to be sick, I mean, I--- and she--- and--”

“Breathe!” Sam rolled his eyes as his brother started to dry heave. Dean inhaled the cool, fresh air of the shower room, face leaning over the sink as Sam waited beside him. Dean tried to block the images of CC’s face in his hands, blood on his thighs, mouth on him. He sloshed the cold water on his face and neck, fingers dragging a little rougher than necessary, subconsciously hurting himself to bury the repulsion, the guilt, the fear.

“How did it even get in here, Sam? This place is warded to the gills.” Dean kept his eyes closed, unwilling to meet his reflection in the mirror. “She had a branding, on her thigh. But it wasn’t ancient, it just said, ‘Hi.’ I mean ‘hi’, really?!” Dean pushed off the sink, hand tugging the hair off his forehead.

“Might be some kind of blood spell? I’ll look in to what could have gotten past the Men of Letters’ fail-safes.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Dean sighed. “You do that, I’m gonna burn my sheets and take a shower. In lye.”

Three hours later and Sam hadn’t narrowed down what a demon would have to do in order to gain access to the Bunker. Dean had stopped himself from calling Crowley five or six times, unwilling to give the demon the satisfaction of pulling one over on him. The whole thing felt like a sick twisted game of humiliation and not even the good kind. As most days when he was lost in thought, Dean’s left hand rubbed over the Mark, like bellows doting over embers.

“Look, just call her, maybe we can meet up, exorcise it?”

“Something tells me she is going to see through whatever we cook up, Sam,” Dean muttered.

“This isn’t Chloe, Dean. This is a demon who has our friend!” Sam was losing his patience. “I mean, no matter who she’s working for, we have to go after her.”

Dean waited, letting Sam’s exasperation contort his face into five different things before he looked his big brother in the unamused eye. “You done?”

“No, but if you have something to add, why don’t you share with the class?”

“You don’t think that I know what this means, for CC? The girl that I--, the hunter that has been pulling my head out of my ass for the better part of a year to be taken like this? To have that thing inside her? Sam? Really?!” Dean had his lecture face on staring admonished at Sam’s bitch face and his lips pursed.

“Well, don’t you think it’s time we do something about it?” Sam shifted in his chair.

“Oh, we’re going to do something about it, but I’m not leaving it to chance or a bad tip from Crowley. We do what we do, we hunt the thing.” The brothers shared a look, an entire conversation that resulted in a sucking of teeth and a ruthless smirk.

*^*

Her bike had run out of gas, how something that was extremely fuel efficient and, also the stuff of dreams ran out of gas, made little sense to Chloe. But there she was, on the side of the road in the afternoon heat, stranded. Her conversation with her granddad’s spirit had replayed itself in her thoughts for days. It was like elevator music to her now, familiar yet warbled, and easily dismissed.

The eighteen-wheeler was the first sign of civilization she had seen since leaving the memories in the woods. If this was her impending choice, she was ready to answer and take the next step back towards control. It was not. Though the trucker was friendly and had the air conditioning on full blast.

“Where to, princess?”

“Don’t know, we’ll see when we get there.”

The driver gave a thoughtful frown and eased off the brakes.

*^*

April 9, 2014

Sayre, OK

Fog clung to the road, sloping into ditches as the passing cars drove by, their proximity rattling the windows around you. You had pulled over to the shoulder hoping for a distraction, but that was hours ago. The body heat had steamed the windshield against the sunrise, scarlet and coral blotches appeared slowly before your unfocused eyes. You listened to the voicemail again, letting the once solacing voice eat away at any semblance of purpose you had left.

He had heard about your last case, wanted to meet half way. There were rumors about Crowley and Dean felt like his show down with Abaddon was an any-day-now situation. Damn, was he a brilliant bullshit artist. You almost believed he wanted to see you. It almost sounded that he had convinced himself he need to see CC again before that next battle. Maybe that’s what it was, maybe it was just Dean’s sentimental side breaking through before he got the First Blade back in his hand.

But it was just a hint too earnest and two puffs too smooth for someone who had done the things to you that he had. Dean knew and he was setting his trap.

You thought of going underground, knowing Crowley still had a few tails on you, despite your regular check ins. There was always defection, switch teams and play against the world’s deadliest hunters, with the last Knight of Hell as your team captain. Or you could tell him the disgusting, grisly truth and let him, or Sam, exorcise you where you stand.

None of those were without merit, but all were without much hope in your survival. The radio crackled over the opening cords of the next song, Kurt Cobain’s voice came next, shattering your pretensions, and finally the tears began to fall.

*^*

Rock Springs, WY

April 12, 2014

The Impala pulled into the parking lot just after rush hour, which wasn’t much to avoid in most respects. Sam had been on the phone on and off the entire drive, keeping tabs on the soul banks that Abaddon had erected all over. Dean was listening, but they both knew he had checked out unless it was about CC or the Queen Bitch herself. He needed the easy routine of tuning the radio and the weight of his foot on the gas. Because when he stopped or thought too much, everything seemed to unfreeze and fall apart at his slightest touch.

The motel had plenty of vacancies, especially for Agents Hawkins and Grohl. There wasn’t a verified case for forty miles, but something about putting on the Fed suit and using an alias made Dean feel in control. It was hard to believe there was a time when he hated the get ups. He replayed his times with CC on and off through the years, usually as one forgotten memory would surface, eventually they all snowballed over the bigger picture. But he could only see now where the holes in time split and the emptiness of his unspoken promises fissured.

“You call her?” Sam’s voice broke through his weapons check.

“Yeah, just rang through to voicemail. We’ll settle in and grab something to eat and I will try again.”

He didn’t turn around to see that look on Sam’s face, he already felt its sting without having to face it.

*^*

It as if she was asleep, her body seemed so much smaller from the outside. Though her boots fell inside the edge of the mattress, you felt the need to bed her knees, curling her on her side as she liked to rest. She was warm and her body heavy. You waited at the small breakfast table, new vessel’s fingers flexing as you acclimated to him. “Come on, CC, wake up.”

She shouldn’t have been tired, you had a solid six hours the night before. But when you left her mouth, you only passively realized that she was nowhere to be found. In fact, you couldn’t recall the last time you felt her fighting you.

Dean.

You hadn’t felt her since Dean. It was a good thing they were coming for you, then. Maybe his voice could break through to her, wherever she had gone. Like some macabre fairy tale, the cursed hunter wakes the mind-lost vessel. You should be gone by then, they didn’t need an audience. You didn’t need to bare witness to that. They would probably blast you full of rock salt and finish you off with their Kurdish knife. Instead you stayed, staring at the man’s generic phone screen until you heard CC’s ringtone from her coat on the rack behind the door.

Dean.

*^*

“I don’t know Sam, this all feel off to you?” Dean swallowed down some coffee as he waited for CC’s voicemail message to pick up again.

“We’re hunting a demon, not really expecting it to make it easy,” Sam shrugged.

“But, wouldn’t it pick up and taunt us?”

“Maybe it ditched her phone, want me to try the GPS?” Sam offered, pulling open his laptop on the cramped diner table.

Dean smiled at the waitress as she brought his slice of pie, though his stomach was full, he wasn’t going to deny himself a slice of Dutch Apple, especially not tonight. Sam huh-ed.

“What?”

“It’s pinging at our motel.” Sam stuck his tongue in his cheek as he spun the screen for Dean to see.

“Fucking demons,” Dean spoke through his bite of pie, inhaling all he could as Sam packed up his computer and left more than enough extra for a tip.

*^*

You could smoke out, there was still enough time. The Impala’s engine cut on the other side of the parking lot. You could almost feel him from where you sat, but this body was a poor substitute, and you were a selfish, masochistic bitch. So, you waited. Chloe’s breath was shallow, but steady. She hadn’t stirred or made even one noise. In a way, this was probably the last time you would ever see her again. Moving day and this was your last walk through of your first place. It was understandable to linger, justifying your inability to walk away from her and Dean.

They had geared up in their room, you could hear muffled voices through the walls, there were just three rooms between you and two were empty. Even whispering, you’d know those voices anywhere. They walked around the building, knowing if they took the shortest distance they would pass in front of the large window at your back. Sometimes you hated hunters’ caution and sometimes you wanted to pat their little heads. You pulled air through his nose and waited.

He called again. Honestly.

“Door’s open,” you said to whichever one was at the door, trying to discreetly pick the lock in nearly full view of the parking lot and surrounding alley. The voice was coarse out of your throat, foreign and distasteful to use for such occasions.

*^*

As the door swung open, Sam’s eyes fell on their host, before locking on to the sight of CC prone on the bed. He dragged his brother to his feet, and they walked straight into the fray. Tucking away his lock pick, Dean rocked forward in a fury, only taking two steps before he was knocked back. In half a breath, Sam and Dean were pinned against the coat rack as the door swung closed. The demon hadn’t even stood up.

“What did you do to her?!” Dean demanded, working to focus and to buy Sam time as a distraction.

“Nothing much worse than you did,” he spoke calmly, but the cadence wasn’t meant for this mouth.

“I’m going to kill you, you sonofabitch!”

“I know you want to, especially now, with all that blood-lust running through you.” The demon stood, the vessel was a white guy in his forties, small compared to them, but that meant nothing now. “The Mark really smarts after you lost the Blade, doesn’t Dean? I know how it makes you feel and how you think. So, I know you want to kill me, in fact, I was banking on it. That’s why I found a new meat suit. Didn’t wanna add anymore guilt on the Winchester laundry list.”

“But, why?” Sam searched for understanding, “I mean, why stick around for us to find you. You could have run back to Abaddon or Crowley or to fucking Botswana by now.”

The demon didn’t answer, but watched Dean watch CC, it almost seemed wistful. Sam was struggling to piece together its motivations all while fighting the force holding him against his will. But Dean had stopped fidgeting beside him, his brother had gone lax. Dean’s eyes unfocused before glaring at their captor.

“You like to watch, huh? Is that it? You get off on people’s feelings, you sick fuck.” Dean inhaled slowly with a piercing stare that further challenged the demon. He tried not to let his rage plummet with the shock as he started to feel an ease of pressure against his body.

“You know I don’t. Besides, I haven’t answered Sam, yet.” The demon approached them, waiting just out of arm’s reach. “I need your help.”

*^*

You had no clue if this would work, but it was the Hail Mary at the end of the game of your own devising. You kept going back to him and now that you had been made, you were running out of options. Nothing you did made sense, but if you were going to get through to Dean, you had to tell the truth. Or at least part of it.

“I don’t know where CC is.”

“You mean other than on the bed,” Dean was not amused with the child-like turn.

You rolled your eyes and put your hands on your hips, which was far less empowering in this form than in hers. “Obviously. She hasn’t been talking back for a while and when I exited stage left, it’s been quiet.”

“Has she had any brain damage or major trauma?” Sam asked.

You shook your head and then shrugged, possession was a bit traumatic, even when you weren’t out to derail her sanity. “The last time I remember even a glimpse of her was with Dean, so I was hoping…”

“No.”

“What, why?”

“It wants me to wake Sleeping Beauty,” Dean snapped. “I am not putting the moves on a comatose girl, not after what, just no.”

“It has a name,” you snipped, dropping your hold on Dean, which oddly wasn’t as secure as it was originally. “Just try and talk to her? Maybe she can resurface.”

“And if I don’t?” Dean watched you like a true enemy. While the power you possessed was nothing compared to what he unknowingly held over you, it was nice to been seen for what you were finally. Again, you remained silent, choosing to squeeze Sam’s throat enough for him to audibly choke. “Noted.”

He approached the bed with caution, eyeing the weapons you had forced from their grasp and waist bands with their confinement. You slid them across the floor beneath the table, nudging Dean onward. Out of annoyance more than courtesy, you removed the strangle hold from Sam’s throat. He sputtered and coughed as Dean checked CC’s pulse.

“Dean?”

“She’s good.” Dean’s large hand cradled her face as he began to whisper, “I’m so sorry, but we’re going to get you out of here. We’re gonna get you back on your feet and we can kick the bastard’s ass together, okay? Cease, you hearing me in there, huh?”

Your eyes flitted back to Sam, he looked at you with something too close to pity in his eyes. You let your eyes blacken and stuck your tongue out at him. Dean started talking again, leaving a little peck on Chloe’s forehead as he waxed on about their first hunt. Things you had learned but hadn’t realized what their past meant for him. It paled in comparison to yours, but Dean wasn’t here for you. And, finally you saw that you weren’t only there for yourself either.

“What about a dream walk?” Sam suggested, “we could probably scrounge up the ingredients between us.”

“Dean? Think you could handle it?” Everything rested on the head of a pin, Chloe’s life, your afterlife, Sam’s patience and Dean’s faith.

“I’m not leaving you alone with Sam,” Dean didn’t bother looking at you, he was too worried about CC.

“It’s not like we can trust her with our bodies, Dean.” Sam cocked his head as Dean’s eyes looked skyward.

“Demons don’t sleep, ergo it’s not coming with.”

You swallowed, remembering everything you knew about the ritual. “Dean, look, if I trust Sam to keep from killing OR exorcising me while I’m in. Will you trust me to go with you?”

“Why are you even still here?” Dean muttered, offended by your very existence.

“Because I don’t want Chloe dead, if I did, I would have done it a long time ago.”

“That right?” Dean stood now, looking down his nose at your vessel.

“Look, I asked for your help, alright?” You threw in your final chip and let Sam fall back to his feet. “Either help me find Chloe or kill me and do it on your own, but this guy has kids and I haven’t done a thing to him or her since you’ve been here. You can trust me.”

Dean let out a mirthless laugh. “Trust you? Sorry, Alan,” he quipped as he flicked the embroidered name tag on your chest. “I don’t even know you.”

*^*

He was impossibly close now and though he had been hiding it, the rage was surging just beneath the surface. Dean’s every instinct told him to kill this thing, but the way it moved and spoke was giving him a headache. It was like a bad body swap, because he was very clearly talking to CC while talking about CC. Just how long had she been possessed for it to have this sort of mimicry?

“That stings a little, but I’m not going to hold a shitty memory against you, Dean. Ball’s in your court, boys.” The demon sat down, leaning back to grab both of their guns and knife.

Tags: @mogaruke @dontshootmespence @mrswhozeewhatsis@smi727@sassykayla255@supernaturalboi@dumbthotticus@eve05glee@veroinnumera@spn-dean-and-sam-winchester@fanfictionrecommendations-com@soullesscollection-world

Next Chapter: Case of the Weak Part C

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loveofyhwh · 6 years ago

Text

November 24: Ezekiel 17–18; Revelation 17; Psalm 119:129–136; Proverbs 28:12–13

New Post has been published on https://loveofyhwh.com/november-24-ezekiel-17-18-revelation-17-psalm-119129-136-proverbs-2812-13/

November 24: Ezekiel 17–18; Revelation 17; Psalm 119:129–136; Proverbs 28:12–13

Old Testament:

Ezekiel 17–18

Ezekiel 17–18 (Listen)

Parable of Two Eagles and a Vine

17 The word of the LORD came to me: 2 “Son of man, propound a riddle, and speak a parable to the house of Israel; 3 say, Thus says the Lord GOD: A great eagle with great wings and long pinions, rich in plumage of many colors, came to Lebanon and took the top of the cedar. 4 He broke off the topmost of its young twigs and carried it to a land of trade and set it in a city of merchants. 5 Then he took of the seed of the land and planted it in fertile soil.Hebrew in a field of seed‘>1 He placed it beside abundant waters. He set it like a willow twig, 6 and it sprouted and became a low spreading vine, and its branches turned toward him, and its roots remained where it stood. So it became a vine and produced branches and put out boughs.

7 “And there was another great eagle with great wings and much plumage, and behold, this vine bent its roots toward him and shot forth its branches toward him from the bed where it was planted, that he might water it. 8 It had been planted on good soil by abundant waters, that it might produce branches and bear fruit and become a noble vine.

9 “Say, Thus says the Lord GOD: Will it thrive? Will he not pull up its roots and cut off its fruit, so that it withers, so that all its fresh sprouting leaves wither? It will not take a strong arm or many people to pull it from its roots. 10 Behold, it is planted; will it thrive? Will it not utterly wither when the east wind strikes it—wither away on the bed where it sprouted?”

11 Then the word of the LORD came to me: 12 “Say now to the rebellious house, Do you not know what these things mean? Tell them, behold, the king of Babylon came to Jerusalem, and took her king and her princes and brought them to him to Babylon. 13 And he took one of the royal offspringHebrew seed‘>2 and made a covenant with him, putting him under oath (the chief men of the land he had taken away), 14 that the kingdom might be humble and not lift itself up, and keep his covenant that it might stand. 15 But he rebelled against him by sending his ambassadors to Egypt, that they might give him horses and a large army. Will he thrive? Can one escape who does such things? Can he break the covenant and yet escape?

16 “As I live, declares the Lord GOD, surely in the place where the king dwells who made him king, whose oath he despised, and whose covenant with him he broke, in Babylon he shall die. 17 Pharaoh with his mighty army and great company will not help him in war, when mounds are cast up and siege walls built to cut off many lives. 18 He despised the oath in breaking the covenant, and behold, he gave his hand and did all these things; he shall not escape. 19 Therefore thus says the Lord GOD: As I live, surely it is my oath that he despised, and my covenant that he broke. I will return it upon his head. 20 I will spread my net over him, and he shall be taken in my snare, and I will bring him to Babylon and enter into judgment with him there for the treachery he has committed against me. 21 And all the pickSome Hebrew manuscripts, Syriac, Targum; most Hebrew manuscripts all the fugitives‘>3 of his troops shall fall by the sword, and the survivors shall be scattered to every wind, and you shall know that I am the LORD; I have spoken.”

22 Thus says the Lord GOD: “I myself will take a sprig from the lofty top of the cedar and will set it out. I will break off from the topmost of its young twigs a tender one, and I myself will plant it on a high and lofty mountain. 23 On the mountain height of Israel will I plant it, that it may bear branches and produce fruit and become a noble cedar. And under it will dwell every kind of bird; in the shade of its branches birds of every sort will nest. 24 And all the trees of the field shall know that I am the LORD; I bring low the high tree, and make high the low tree, dry up the green tree, and make the dry tree flourish. I am the LORD; I have spoken, and I will do it.”

The Soul Who Sins Shall Die

18 The word of the LORD came to me: 2 “What do youThe Hebrew for you is plural‘>4 mean by repeating this proverb concerning the land of Israel, ‘The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge’? 3 As I live, declares the Lord GOD, this proverb shall no more be used by you in Israel. 4 Behold, all souls are mine; the soul of the father as well as the soul of the son is mine: the soul who sins shall die.

5 “If a man is righteous and does what is just and right—6 if he does not eat upon the mountains or lift up his eyes to the idols of the house of Israel, does not defile his neighbor’s wife or approach a woman in her time of menstrual impurity, 7 does not oppress anyone, but restores to the debtor his pledge, commits no robbery, gives his bread to the hungry and covers the naked with a garment, 8 does not lend at interest or take any profit,That is, profit that comes from charging interest to the poor; also verses 13, 17 (compare Leviticus 25:36)‘>5 withholds his hand from injustice, executes true justice between man and man, 9 walks in my statutes, and keeps my rules by acting faithfully—he is righteous; he shall surely live, declares the Lord GOD.

10 “If he fathers a son who is violent, a shedder of blood, who does any of these things 11 (though he himself did none of these things), who even eats upon the mountains, defiles his neighbor’s wife, 12 oppresses the poor and needy, commits robbery, does not restore the pledge, lifts up his eyes to the idols, commits abomination, 13 lends at interest, and takes profit; shall he then live? He shall not live. He has done all these abominations; he shall surely die; his blood shall be upon himself.

14 “Now suppose this man fathers a son who sees all the sins that his father has done; he sees, and does not do likewise: 15 he does not eat upon the mountains or lift up his eyes to the idols of the house of Israel, does not defile his neighbor’s wife, 16 does not oppress anyone, exacts no pledge, commits no robbery, but gives his bread to the hungry and covers the naked with a garment, 17 withholds his hand from iniquity,Septuagint; Hebrew from the poor‘>6 takes no interest or profit, obeys my rules, and walks in my statutes; he shall not die for his father’s iniquity; he shall surely live. 18 As for his father, because he practiced extortion, robbed his brother, and did what is not good among his people, behold, he shall die for his iniquity.

19 “Yet you say, ‘Why should not the son suffer for the iniquity of the father?’ When the son has done what is just and right, and has been careful to observe all my statutes, he shall surely live. 20 The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself.

21 “But if a wicked person turns away from all his sins that he has committed and keeps all my statutes and does what is just and right, he shall surely live; he shall not die. 22 None of the transgressions that he has committed shall be remembered against him; for the righteousness that he has done he shall live. 23 Have I any pleasure in the death of the wicked, declares the Lord GOD, and not rather that he should turn from his way and live? 24 But when a righteous person turns away from his righteousness and does injustice and does the same abominations that the wicked person does, shall he live? None of the righteous deeds that he has done shall be remembered; for the treachery of which he is guilty and the sin he has committed, for them he shall die.

25 “Yet you say, ‘The way of the Lord is not just.’ Hear now, O house of Israel: Is my way not just? Is it not your ways that are not just? 26 When a righteous person turns away from his righteousness and does injustice, he shall die for it; for the injustice that he has done he shall die. 27 Again, when a wicked person turns away from the wickedness he has committed and does what is just and right, he shall save his life. 28 Because he considered and turned away from all the transgressions that he had committed, he shall surely live; he shall not die. 29 Yet the house of Israel says, ‘The way of the Lord is not just.’ O house of Israel, are my ways not just? Is it not your ways that are not just?

30 “Therefore I will judge you, O house of Israel, every one according to his ways, declares the Lord GOD. Repent and turn from all your transgressions, lest iniquity be your ruin.Or lest iniquity be your stumbling block‘>7 31 Cast away from you all the transgressions that you have committed, and make yourselves a new heart and a new spirit! Why will you die, O house of Israel? 32 For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, declares the Lord GOD; so turn, and live.”

Footnotes

[1] 17:5 Hebrew in a field of seed [2] 17:13 Hebrew seed [3] 17:21 Some Hebrew manuscripts, Syriac, Targum; most Hebrew manuscripts all the fugitives [4] 18:2 The Hebrew for you is plural [5] 18:8 That is, profit that comes from charging interest to the poor; also verses 13, 17 (compare Leviticus 25:36) [6] 18:17 Septuagint; Hebrew from the poor [7] 18:30 Or lest iniquity be your stumbling block

(ESV)

New Testament:

Revelation 17

Revelation 17 (Listen)

The Great Prostitute and the Beast

17 Then one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls came and said to me, “Come, I will show you the judgment of the great prostitute who is seated on many waters, 2 with whom the kings of the earth have committed sexual immorality, and with the wine of whose sexual immorality the dwellers on earth have become drunk.” 3 And he carried me away in the Spirit into a wilderness, and I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast that was full of blasphemous names, and it had seven heads and ten horns. 4 The woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet, and adorned with gold and jewels and pearls, holding in her hand a golden cup full of abominations and the impurities of her sexual immorality. 5 And on her forehead was written a name of mystery: “Babylon the great, mother of prostitutes and of earth’s abominations.” 6 And I saw the woman, drunk with the blood of the saints, the blood of the martyrs of Jesus.Greek the witnesses to Jesus‘>1

When I saw her, I marveled greatly. 7 But the angel said to me, “Why do you marvel? I will tell you the mystery of the woman, and of the beast with seven heads and ten horns that carries her. 8 The beast that you saw was, and is not, and is about to rise from the bottomless pitGreek the abyss‘>2 and go to destruction. And the dwellers on earth whose names have not been written in the book of life from the foundation of the world will marvel to see the beast, because it was and is not and is to come. 9 This calls for a mind with wisdom: the seven heads are seven mountains on which the woman is seated; 10 they are also seven kings, five of whom have fallen, one is, the other has not yet come, and when he does come he must remain only a little while. 11 As for the beast that was and is not, it is an eighth but it belongs to the seven, and it goes to destruction. 12 And the ten horns that you saw are ten kings who have not yet received royal power, but they are to receive authority as kings for one hour, together with the beast. 13 These are of one mind, and they hand over their power and authority to the beast. 14 They will make war on the Lamb, and the Lamb will conquer them, for he is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those with him are called and chosen and faithful.”

15 And the angelGreek he‘>3 said to me, “The waters that you saw, where the prostitute is seated, are peoples and multitudes and nations and languages. 16 And the ten horns that you saw, they and the beast will hate the prostitute. They will make her desolate and naked, and devour her flesh and burn her up with fire, 17 for God has put it into their hearts to carry out his purpose by being of one mind and handing over their royal power to the beast, until the words of God are fulfilled. 18 And the woman that you saw is the great city that has dominion over the kings of the earth.”

Footnotes

[1] 17:6 Greek the witnesses to Jesus [2] 17:8 Greek the abyss [3] 17:15 Greek he

(ESV)

Psalm:

Psalm 119:129–136

Psalm 119:129–136 (Listen)

129 Your testimonies are wonderful; therefore my soul keeps them. 130 The unfolding of your words gives light; it imparts understanding to the simple. 131 I open my mouth and pant, because I long for your commandments. 132 Turn to me and be gracious to me, as is your way with those who love your name. 133 Keep steady my steps according to your promise, and let no iniquity get dominion over me. 134 Redeem me from man’s oppression, that I may keep your precepts. 135 Make your face shine upon your servant, and teach me your statutes. 136 My eyes shed streams of tears, because people do not keep your law.

(ESV)

Proverb:

Proverbs 28:12–13

Proverbs 28:12–13 (Listen)

12 When the righteous triumph, there is great glory, but when the wicked rise, people hide themselves. 13 Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.

(ESV)

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dee-isfree · 6 years ago

Text

Feedings in dreams are not good.

Ministration by Uzo Onukwugha, MD

Eating, drinking, snacking, taking medicine or injections in the dream has far reaching consequences in the waking life. Many times it is a gradual and repetitive process. While at other times, the implantation can cause immediate damage to the victims health, livelihood, relationship or destiny. Sometimes, the table is set; while at other times, you will see an invisible hands doing the feeding against your will.

Most forceful feeding are the works of familiar spirits from dark submarine kingdom of satan. These wicked and recalcitrant spirits are known in deliverance circles as spiritual caterers, demonic chefs and cooks. They have delegated authority from satan to feed and pollute sleeping people from satanic pantry and kitchen. While men slept, the enemy came and sow tare. Therefore, any seed that our Father God has not planted must be uprooted.

One popular preacher who claim to be in ministry for a long time and was claiming to cast out demons retorted: If you find food in the dream, eat. A table has been prepared before you. There’s nothing wrong with eating in the dream. It is a dream anyhow. This is the same preacher that endorses masturbation. Obviously this preacher has been eating from the table the demons prepared before him, not from the Lord. The correct question should have been: What is right about eating in the dream? Absolutely nothing because my grandmother who doesn’t know much about the Bible knows that it is wrong to eat in the dream. We have to be careful how we follow preachers blindly.

We must examine the Bible in the light of reality. Read the Bible and reason for yourself because we who are teachers will be judged with greater strictness and would be held accountable by the Almighty for misleading others. The preacher in question claimed that the only place in the Bible where humans are given food is by angels and not demons. He did not give the Chapter and verse; neither did he say if it was in the dream or in the physical. Another ignoramus statement is that: it is a dream anyhow. Don’t you know that dream state is an unconscious supernatural state where life events happen before manifestation or materialization?

What is commonly experienced is generally ignored. Eating in the dream is not ordinary. It has spiritual and physical implications. In the astral world, eating food with somebody or from someone signifies partaking, devouring, initiation, covenant, agreement, friendship, fellowship or participation.

Those things you eat in the dream are not real food; they are deceptive food, demonic deposits, poisons, tokens, demonic seeds, infiltrations and implantation. They are demonic vehicles, or containers in disguise that carry demonic foreign bodies, organisms, forces, entities, objects and fetishes into the human body through the mouth gate. Once inside the body, they can turn into anything harmful intended by the demonic dream programmers. Remember that satan only have a three-fold ministry of killing, stealing and destruction. Never think that you can make friends with the devil and reject everything he is got.

The Consequence is that eating in the dream can cause any form of demonization, strange or unexplained phenomenon. It is part of dream defilement complex which is meant to poison you and weaken your prayer life. It can cause yoke of affliction or limitation in progress. Unconscious eating can cause sickness, cancer, barrenness, bed-wetting, miscarriages, ceased menstruation, headaches, abdominal pain, pelvic infections, infestations, internal heat, pelvic congestion, pelvic heat, hormonal imbalance, ovarian cysts, fibroids, false or demonic pregnancy, congenital abnormality, erectile dysfunction, low sperm count, and prostate conditions. It can also cause fornication (crawling sensation or moving objects around inside your body or under your skin). Any foreign object can become a force which may lodge anywhere in the body like blocking the tubes, uterus, or birth canal.

Solution: Eating in the dream may not be enough evidence to conduct a fresh deliverance session. The demonic culprits tend to be stubborn and recalcitrant. You have to be persistent and consistent. It is better tackled immediately you wake up instead of waiting or thinking that it is nothing. Invoke the cleansing power of the blood of Jesus Christ. Expunge, purge and expel any foreign body (seeds, roots and plant,) by exercising authority in the name of Jesus Christ.

Bullet Prayer Points and Prophetic Decrees:

I destroy by Holy Ghost fire, every food bank and feeding table of satan, and cause every invisible hand that attempts to feed me in the dream to wither forever, in Jesus’ Name.

I denounce, reject, cancel, annul, disengage, disentangle and disconnect myself from any demonic yoke, burdens, initiation, curses, bondage, pact, link, alliance, allegiance, accord, oath, network, conspiracy, and fellowship, in Jesus’ Name.

By Holy Ghost fire, I cut off forever, any dedication or hidden covenant entered unconsciously with satanic agents, marine spirits, familiar spirits, ancestral spirits, household idols, witchcraft spirits, spiritual caterers, human incentive workers in Jesus’ Name.

I activate, revive, reawaken, and renew the blood covenant I have with our Lord, Jesus Christ ratified by Holy Ghost fire. I decree, declare, proclaim, reinforce, reaffirm, and confirm that I am a blood bought, blood washed covenant child of Jesus Christ by the Power of the Holy Ghost.

I sever by the Holy Ghost fire, any foreign food, demonic token, object, implantation or infiltration in my spirit soul and body in Jesus’ name.

I invoke the cleansing and detoxification power of the Blood of Jesus to neutralize, delete, exterminate, eliminate, eradicate, and blot out completely every demonic food, remnant, or deposit eaten in my dream in the Name of Jesus Christ.

By Holy Ghost fire, I remove my name from satanic feeding list, case file, demonic memory, database, and psychic computers, in Jesus’ Name.

My body is the sacred temple of the Holy Ghost. Therefore, every sickness, poison, disease, or disorder fashioned in my body by demonic deposit is expelled by fire. I marinate my spirit, soul and body with the blood of Jesus Christ. I immunize my cells, tissues, glands, organs and systems with the precious blood of Jesus Christ.

No weapon fashioned against me shall prosper. I walk in vibrant health, divine promotion, wellness and wholeness in Jesus’ Name. From this day forward, my dream is secured in the hand of Jesus Christ by the Holy Ghost.

I speak blessings, peace, grace, mercy, goodness, love, light and divine life to my sleep and dream, in Jesus’ Name.

I am beloved and highly favored of the Lord. He giveth me sound sleep and sweet dreams in Jesus’ Name.

I make these prevailing prayers, fervent petitions, prophetic decrees and declarations, in Jesus’ Name.

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emlan · 8 years ago

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The Ringed City trip report!

I'm no writer so I'll just bullet point some misc thoughts pretty much:

- I would've preferred if the long drop-downs was handled in another way. I always play offline since I like finding secrets myself and seeing 3 orange messages in front of a seemingly normal wall kinda gives away that it's an illusion. Since dev messages however show up no matter your online status they where quite the blaring neon signs!

- Obviously my ears perked up when Lorian got name dropped right away but then there's not a single ref to him or the Lothric royal family in rest of DLC? Why would you mention it in the first place then...I guess to refresh people's memories that he fought the Demon Prince way back when but even so it doesn't really bring anything new to the table.

I was mainly hoping for some info on the Queen of Lothric to finally get rid of the theory that she's Gwynevere but I suppose this will never go away...At least the Projected Heal miracle further hints that they’re separate people but you can easily read it both ways.

- Cute that the stone-humped hag ashes implies she was Lorian's (and/or lothric's) wetnurse tho, figures a good lad was handled by a (seemingly) good woman :3

- Not-Patches. I love Patches and his final sendoff was very cute with him gently just pushing you in the direction you needed to go anyway, but I can't help but feel like a salty smash player whining about wasted slots since he got in instead of a wholly new NPC. Also since I'm a swede I regged right away that his name was literally "patch" which kinda gave it a too cheeky On-The-Nose vibe.

- I suffered more than I should've at the hands of the swamp angel, the "parasite" form of the angels you need to kill to get rid of the flying ones looked so pitiful I wasn't sure if killing them would be a sin so I left it alone for a bit.

- Really nice that we got a lot of hot babe armor, Desert Sorceress for maximum sexy, Zullie's for Sexy But Modest, and Shira's outfit just looking lovely overall. Halflight's is also boob country if you wear it as female but it looks like cheap pirate cosplay to me. All outfits appreciated, but it would've been nice to have these options available much earlier. I mean to rush it you have to beat Friede at low level? I shudder at the thought. (Lothric's hoods mends quite nicely with Zullie's dress btw)

- While on the topic on armor I can't believe that even in the end we never got a defiled moonlight set.

- Demon Prince boss, the first half is quite manageable and the second quite hard, I'm not a fan of bosses where you have a long boring part wasting time to get to the real deal. The setup here with two seemingly sickly demons makes me wonder if they're trying to mirror twin princes but if that was the case they didn't seem to commit 100%

- I'm not sure how I feel about the Locust's talking about misc NPCs in the games, it's neat but why would they even bother mentioning someone as unimportant to the world as Irina for example? Ages has gone past.

- I LOVE the cleric turtle enemies!!! Such fun design, made me think about the dogs/spiders in Siren even though they're not quite as warped.

- The long stairway next to Shira with HOW-many-armor-fatties is plain BS. I assume the game expects you to kill them by plunging attacks since there is many ledge opportunities to do so in the area, but in the end it feels like the intention here is designed around blitzing it which is NG.

- "Show Your Humanity". I'm really salty since I actually DID realize what the game wanted here since I had tried a brance earlier trying to sneak past the bramble fatties but I didn't connect that it was standing in the actual swamp that triggered the humanity form. Used a few brances in front of the wall and didn't bother trying harder when it wouldn't cycle to the right one. It's such an unorthodox trigger for something as "important" as continuing a NPC quest, I just figured it would net me some treasure I wouldn't have use of anyway.

(Keeping Solaire alive in DS1 is also unorthodox but the way Patches waves you off makes it seem like the devs expected and wanted you to get his quest correct right away?)

But also randomly getting a ladder to drop down as a humanity sprite is just silly and too video game-y.

- Pretty odd to put a chloranthy ring as the loot on Gwyn's fancy Provide Thee Succ statue instead of something related to the story.

- Midir. I thought I had to kill this thing to progress since I was a huge tool not realizing I could just give the finger to Judicator Argo and open the door even though he told me to fuck off (please no bully I somehow didn't see any Open prompts, I guess I tried opening while he was still talking and that blocked me the first time I attempted it...???) So I butted my head against this flailing HP sponge longer than I should, the camera is a problem even when not locking on and you have to do so much running back and forth in the arena...But since he's 100% optional I don’t mind since it's nice they added something for non-scrubs unlike me to have fun with.

- Halflight, joke boss but then I most likely didn’t have an actual player spawn in. I'm not into PvP so this feature doesn't do anything for me, but fun gimmick to have an Old Monk style battle. Unfortunate that it's far into a DLC? I wonder how long it'll be active.

- Filianore is listed as Gwyn's youngest daughter (and also his favorite? Sorry 'vere.) so I guess this confirms that Yorshka isn't Gwyn's by blood (not that there was any doubt) since there's no way that waif tot can be older than Filly. Wish we got some more info on the mother/s here, it feels to me Filianore might've never even been in Anor Londo and was birthed by another mother than whoever produced the Gwyn-line series of kids.

Her room is so tiny it takes away the full awe of her sight, I wonder if this was a wise choice. In the artbook it looked much more airy and impressive.

- Gael, phase 2 is much more fun and almost easier than first (""easier"" that is, I still died over and over until I gave up and brought a friend ofc), he's just so aggressive in the start! His fancy bloodborne cape did however create the bloodborne problem of having too much parts moving around the boss making it hard to see where he was currently facing or doing.

- The fact that both he and painter constantly talked about The Dark Soul™ ruined any impact the story could've had, it's just plain silly hearing a game title repeated over and over.

In my heart I knew that none of the loose ???-lore tidbits in the main game would be brought up in the DLC but it still hurts that indeed none of them got touched upon. Yorshka's origins forever R.I.P. Overall though it was much more fun and interesting to play than AoA, so that was a treat!

Now how long will we have to wait for proper teasers about Fromsofts new projects I wonder. I'm excited to be able to play something completely fresh without constant callbacks, fanservice and conflicting lore due to there being multiple games in same series. Is just hope they don’t go too sci-fi.

#dark souls 3 #the ringed city #ds3dlc #text post #review

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recentnews18-blog · 6 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/the-walking-dead-season-9-episode-1-review-a-new-beginning/

'The Walking Dead' Season 9, Episode 1 Review: A New Beginning

Spoilers through Season 9 of ‘The Walking Dead’ follow.

‘The Walking Dead’ returns and offers up the best episode in over two years.Credit: AMC

The Walking Dead has been an agonizing show to watch ever since Negan took his first swing at bat way back in the Season 7 premiere.

In a lot of ways, the problems with the show predated Negan’s arrival, and can really be traced back to the group’s arrival at Alexandria. This is when the show’s cast started to balloon in size, and when the group stopped moving and settled down.

Season 6 had some great episodes—the Wolves attacking Alexandria was fantastic—but it had a lot of problems also. Chief among these was Glenn’s fake death (followed by his real one) but there were lots of others. Rick was super emo the entire season. Whole episodes were spent on filler characters. Things began to stagnate, essentially, and you could see the show going downhill.

It fell off a cliff in Season 7 and stayed in the gutter throughout Season 8. They killed Carl just to boost ratings temporarily. Gunfights were trash. Dialogue was nonsensical. Audiences fled in droves.

A New World

The Season 9 premiere is titled ‘A New Beginning’ and it has a double meaning. For the characters in the show, we’ve jumped 18 months into the future and the survivors in all the various communities have been rebuilding, growing crops, learning to ride horses, and building things like windmills and other low-tech tools. They’ve started over after the war with Negan, and their entire world is new and different now.

For viewers, this is also a new beginning. Angela Kang, the new showrunner who took over when Scott Gimple was kicked upstairs, has brought a fresh style and voice to the show that it desperately needed. While this episode was largely about introducing us to the characters and their new somewhat precarious peace, and not much happened really until the end, you can still see just how much the show has improved.

In many ways, these are small, subtle changes that add up to make a much better viewing experience. The dialogue is much better. Characters like Daryl have actual lines that make sense. I feel bad for Lennie James (Morgan) since he left the very bad Season 8 to go to what was a very good show in Fear The Walking Dead only to have that show jump off its own cliff. Fear, alas, has been ruined ever since Dave Erickson left as showrunner, but the opposite appears to be happening here.

Kang has done a fantastic job breathing new life into The Walking Dead, something I honestly wasn’t sure was even possible. But this is undoubtedly better television than what we’ve been getting. There’s more variety in filming locations. The cinematography doesn’t feel quite as cheap as hit’s felt over the past couple of seasons. And the central conflict at the core of the season is much more interesting than Negan ever was.

Danai Gurira as Michonne, Sydney Park as Cyndie, Callan McAuliffe as AldenCredit: AMC

War and Peace

That conflict is, essentially, how do we all get along? How do the members of Oceanside whose men and boys were all killed by the Saviors, ever forgive and forget? How does Maggie,whose husband was brutally murdered by Negan, live with the fact that he’s still alive and out of her reach? How do Ezekiel’s people at the Kingdom make peace with the Saviors who slaughtered so many of them during the war?

On one side we have Rick, backed by Michonne and to a lesser degree Carol, trying to make the peace hold. On the other side we have Maggie and Daryl who are growing more and more fed up with the Saviors. Maggie’s tired of giving them food that her people grow. Daryl’s sick of the Saviors’ crappy attitudes. There are even signs that some Saviors want Negan back, though others seem grateful to Rick and his people.

The peace is fragile, in other words, and not everyone agrees with how it’s being handled. Trouble is brewing. Everyone is tense and you get a sense that the dam will break at any time.

Lauren Cohan as Maggie Rhee, Norman Reedus as Daryl DixonCredit: AMC

Gregory the Snake

So naturally Gregory plays his cards with this in mind. The Hilltop blacksmith’s son is killed during a mission to Washington D.C. to salvage old tools and other goods from a museum. They blame Maggie for having sent him on a dangerous mission. It’s kind of ludicrous, to be honest, since he was a grown man and this is a dangerous world. It’s hardly Maggie’s fault, but there’s no reasoning with grief. Gregory not-so-subtly adds to the discontent people are feeling over this and the Saviors, hinting that if he were in charge (he lost an election to Maggie, apparently) things would be different.

Then he gets the blacksmith (who’s been sober for 20 years) and his wife drunk and after the wife passes out, he convinces the blacksmith to attack Maggie. Then he tricks Maggie into thinking that someone defiled Glenn’s grave and she walks right into the trap. The drunken blacksmith attacks and she barely escapes. She knows it’s Gregory who did it and confronts him. You almost think she’s going to just kill him then and there, but she has other plans in mind.

And so we finally get a hanging. Gregory is hoisted up on the scaffolding, seated on a horse, and then hung from his neck. We can cross him off my list of characters who need to die this season, and good riddance.

But Maggie’s unilateral decision to execute Gregory (but not the blacksmith) raises some eyebrows. What is the extent of her power? Of anyone’s power? What are the rules and laws that people need to follow? Why isn’t any of this being established more formally? That’s a question that will grow as the season progresses. Rebuilding society isn’t just about new tools and planting crops. It’s about laws and customs and solving problems through procedures rather than the whims of those in charge.

Andrew Lincoln as Rick Grimes, Danai Gurira as MichonneCredit: AMC

Not everything is roses and sunshine.

Kang has breathed new life into The Walking Dead but you can see she’s picked up some bad habits over the years (she’s been on the team since Season 2.)

For instance, there’s this long scene at the museum where they’re bringing all these heavy items down a big staircase and then walking them over a glass floor. It’s a sturdy glass floor but beneath it are a whole bunch of zombies. It starts to crack at one point and everyone is trying to move across the surface really carefully.

But here’s the thing: For many of these items (other than the cart) they could pass them over the staircase’s low banister and just avoid the glass altogether. Wouldn’t you do this if you saw the floor begin to crack? Wouldn’t it be safer even if it was a little harder to do?

Then, when the glass actually cracks it’s because stupid Ezekiel walks across the whole thing way out into the middle where it’s cracking instead of just turning immediately to the left or right and getting off the glass right away. Why? Why do that? Oh, it’s because writers are making characters do insanely stupid things to create fake tension and suspense. This is the most consistently bad thing about The Walking Dead (and Fear). The writers do this all the time and I want to go to the writer’s room and yell at all the writers until they get it through their thick skulls that making characters act like idiots does not equal good TV.

Suspense is great. That could have been a suspenseful scene without having characters behave like idiots. The glass could have broken when they were bringing the giant cart through, since there was no other way for them to get that out other than taking it across the glass. That would have made sense and it would have been a much better, more realistic scene.

Norman Reedus as Daryl DixonCredit: AMC

When the zombies catch up with them on the road we have another series of weird, stupid moments. Why do they need to abandon the cart they worked so hard to get? They’re all highly skilled zombie killers at this point. They could have just killed the zombies and been about their business. There were obviously not too many zombies to dispatch because that’s what they end up doing in the end anyways. They were really just going to leave the cart and the horses instead of just killing the zombies? Why? WHY? WHY????

This results in the young guy’s death since he tries to free the horses like a decent person but isn’t quick enough or smart enough to avoid getting bitten. The whole thing was just incredibly frustrating. Classic Walking Dead. It just feels lazy to me. Like nobody is paying enough attention to the details to make these scenes work.

In this second scene, they could have decided to get away and come back for the cart and Rick or somebody could have said “Free the horses!” and then when the kid went to free the horses he could have gotten kicked in the head or something and died from that, not from being the only person to not run away immediately.

The episode was written by Kang and directed by Greg Nicotero, and I guess I was just expecting more from these two when it comes to basic logic. Oh well. If I had one piece of advice for Kang as she takes over this show it would be to increase quality control. Make sure that every script makes sense and doesn’t include characters acting like idiots for no reason. Creating tension and conflict is important, and sometimes that includes characters being stupid (people are stupid sometimes!) but it can’t be so obviously stupid to the point where it doesn’t make sense for the character and how they normally act.

Norman Reedus as Daryl Dixon, Lauren Cohan as Maggie Rhee, Melissa McBride as Carol Peletier, Danai Gurira as Michonne, Khary Payton as Ezekiel, Sydney Park as CyndieCredit: AMC

You can watch my video review below. It’s been copyright claimed and blocked in some countries, however, so hopefully I can get that resolved. Hopefully you can see it!

Verdict

Other than these silly moments, I really enjoyed the season premiere. It’s not the best Walking Dead premiere ever but it’s a step in the right direction. I have hope for the first time in years that this might actually be a decent season. I think we’re probably past the show’s heyday, but you never know.

I also feel like we’re getting more of the characters we care about and less of the characters we don’t care about. So more Daryl, more Carol, etc. and less Eugene, less Tara etc. That’s great. The cast is way too big still and we need to focus on the people we actually care about more and build their stories out. This, coupled with the better dialogue and acting, is one of the things that you notice right away this season. Hopefully it continues in this positive direction.

I’ve watched the first three episodes of Season 9 and you can read my spoiler-free preview of those here. All three are good, with episode 3 quite possibly the best of the bunch.

I’m very curious to hear what you all thought of tonight’s premiere. Do you think we’re back in business? Will you keep watching the season after this or is the show dead to you now? Swing by my Facebook page for the post-episode discussion or drop me a tweet on Twitter.

Thanks for reading! I may update this post or write a follow-up with further thoughts so check back for updates Monday morning.

Gallery: ‘The Walking Dead’ Season 9 In Photos

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Source: https://www.forbes.com/sites/erikkain/2018/10/07/the-walking-dead-season-9-episode-1-review-a-new-beginning/

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planarchaosproject · 8 years ago

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Planar Chaos: One Shots

The Cell Block Tango

Marthel rolled out of bed to a pounding on his door. He stumbled across his bedroom, tripping and pulling the curtains open to reveal the shimmering spires of the Church of Deals caught in the noonday sun that graced the world outside of his townhouse.

"Nadia forgot her key again," he grumbled, pulling on pants so as not to make the angel uncomfortable. From what Marthel had gathered, angels possessed no primary sex characteristics and his angel in particular was both confused and embarrassed by mortal anatomy.

He swiped his knuckleblade fur jacket off of a chair and shrugged it over his shoulders. The pounding continued, but this time accompanied by a loud voice shouting "In the name of the Grand Arbiter and the Guildpact, open this door!"

"I'm coming," Marthel called, unsure of why justicars would be banging on his door at such an absurdly early hour. He rubbed his throbbing temples and commented "that's the last time I drink with elves," knowing it to be a boldfaced lie. He tied back his locs with a leather cord before opening the door. He wanted to get a good look at the justicar disturbing his traditional Temur hangover cure.

"Jace Marthel, you are under arrest." The words had barely been processed by Marthel's brain before cuffs were slapped around his wrist and he was being dragged to an armored transport. No less than seven justicars had been sent to arrest him.

"Uh, excuse me," Marthel said. When he was ignored, he increased the pitch and volume of his voice. "Excuse me! What exactly am I being arrested for?"

"We received a tip that this house was being utilized as a base of operations for a smuggling and money-laundering ring. Contacts with the Orzhov confirm the tipster's initial suspicions. You are under arrest as the ringleader of said organization." The justicar didn't so much as look at Marthel when she spoke to him.

"But I'm innocent!" Marthel protested. He struggled against the thick handcuffs. They only grew tighter.

"The prisoner will remain silent." The justicar's voice took on a double tone and Marthel found himself unable to speak. He spent the majority of his ride in the armored transport attempting to make a noise and being unable to get air past his vocal cords.

At least they aren't cruel, he thought to himself. He'd certainly had cruel jailers during his time roaming from plane to plane. There had been times where he would have wasted away without Nadia's intervention. The strength of angels was something to be feared no matter what world he found himself on, but the Azorius had no fear of those more powerful than they. The laws were on their side and law magic had a very powerful position on the plane of Ravnica. The Guildpact worked tirelessly to keep any one guild from gaining the upper hand over the other nine. So far it had been a success.

The justicars roughly tossed Marthel out of the transport. He was hauled up by his armpits and ushered through the halls of a large prison made of the same pristine white marble as the towers of New Prahv. That had been the first sight Marthel had seen upon planeswalking to Ravnica, and the blue form of Isperia settled on top of the highest tower had taken his breath away. At the moment, however, a blue sphinx with all powerful wisdom wouldn't be coming to his rescue. He doubted even Trostani and the Selesnya Conclave could convince the Azorius of his innocence. Then again, Marthel was a human. Trostani did have a certain distrust of humanity and their variable nature as a race. There wasn't any consistency, what she termed harmony, among humans the way elves seemed to live in harmony with one another and their ideals. Occasionally her proselytizing began to fall into a flat monotone in Marthel's ears, but her guild was an incredibly calming place to be whenever Marthel was feeling stressed.

The walls of the prison block rose around him. They almost reminded him of the stalwart cities of Bant, but that memory was tainted by the aftermath of the Conflux. Bant had fallen. It was no more and he and Nadia were all that was left of that once thriving kingdom of order. Marthel didn't miss the order, per se, he just missed the comfort of knowing what was expected of him. It was a simpler time when he didn't have the burden of the secrets of the multiverse on his shoulders. Nadia provided some relief from that burden outside of his loose network of planeswalker friends.

Speaking…er… thinking of Nadia, where was she? She'd surely be back at the house by now.

000000

Nadia arrived home with an armful of groceries and the distinct smell of death hovering around her. She breathed through her mouth, trying her best to keep the stench that lingered on the produce, cheerfully labelled with bright stickers "Fresh from the Golgari Rot Farms!" She fished around in her satchel for the house key and stopped dead in her tracks. The door hung open, hinges creaking in the breeze. A notice pinned to the doorjamb bore the Azorius guild crest.

A pile of fresh produce was now horribly bruised and the air was filled with the frantic flapping of an angel's wings and a string of colorful swears Nadia did not learn on Bant.

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Marthel was tossed into a cell, hands still bound. He'd begun to lose feeling in his fingertips. The door slammed shut and the soft blue glow of a stasis field radiated from the walls. A small, black mound shifted as the justicars left them alone. Marthel scooted back to the wall.

"They finally give me a cell mate, huh?" A woman with dark hair caught up in a loose bun emerged from the dark cloak. Black feathers fluttered to the ground.

"I suppose," Marthel said defensively.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," the woman said. She extended her hands, also bound in cuffs, towards Marthel. "My name is Ashleigh."

"Marthel," he replied, shaking her hand awkwardly.

"So, Marthel, you ready to blow this joint?" Ashleigh smiled wickedly. "I'm sure my boyfriend misses me terribly, and you've got a friend or two searching for you as well, I imagine."

Marthel smirked. "What do you have in mind? These aren't just standard issue cuffs."

"They also can't stand up to a good spark jolt." Lightning crackled around Ashleigh's hands. She gripped Marthel's handcuffs and poured electrical energy through them, frying their locking mechanisms. Marthel's cuffs fell away.

"How can you do magic in here?" Marthel asked, rubbing his wrists as Ashleigh removed her own cuffs. "The law magic of the Guildpact should keep everything in order."

"Honey, I'm not from here." That was her only explanation.

"Honestly," Marthel said, "neither am I."

"You ready to burn this place to the ground?"

"They locked me up on false charges. Absolutely."

The guards outside were completely caught off guard when the door to one of their maximum security cells was blown off its hinges by a fireball twirling around a fork of red lightning. Ashleigh and Marthel bolted out, their spell abandoned to wreak whatever havoc it could in its brief lifetime. Various other cells were blasted open and a slew of criminals joined in their prison break. Guards were either incapacitated or outright killed and resurrected as zombies to aid in their escape.

"That," Marthel said, stopping at the door to their block, "is going to be a problem."

Ashleigh cracked her knuckles. "I don't think so. Get behind me."

The gaggle of prisoners crowded in behind the crazed electromancer. Ashleigh planted her feet and dug deep into her power, dredging up any spells she could find floating around in the memories of the people around her.

"Ooh," she once again donned the wicked smile. "Marthel do you mind if I borrow this?"

"Borrowing implies an intent to return," he responded. This woman had to be a planeswalker. He could just feel it. There was no way she could do these things and not have a spark. But she was still full of surprises. Cracks appeared around the edges of the door and radiated outward, loud peals of thunder alerting them to new shatter points behind and beyond the doors. Marthel pulled a sword off of a zombie in anticipation of the bloodbath that was to come. He licked his lips as part of the ceiling crumbled away, landing mere inches away yet eliciting no response from Marthel.

The door crumbled and an army of justicars and members of the Boros legion stood in the way of Marthel's little band of prisoners.

"Halt in the name of the Grand Arbiter and the Guildpact!"

"I don't think so," Marthel shouted, leaping into action. His sword glowed white hot as it cleaved through flesh. He smiled wildly, each shriek of agony music to his ears.

"Having fun?" Ashleigh called from somewhere in the fray.

"Absolutely," Marthel responded. Blood splattered across his face. Bodies that could still function were raised into an ever growing army of zombies.

"Have you ever raised a corpse before?" Ashleigh asked, catching up to him. Her hair was caked in blood and it had smeared across her face, Marthel's little ragtag battalion was not holding together well at all.

"I can do a lot of things, Ashleigh," Marthel said, catching his breath, "but I'm not good at all of them."

The scene unfolding before the justicars was one out of their worst nightmares. Two prisoners who were certainly powerful, but not overly so, had broken out of their cell and torn their way through two cell blocks, freeing others along the way. Their fallen comrades were immediately defiled and turned on them, slicing through their brothers in arms without so much as a spark of recognition. The walls of their prison, once pristine white, were crumbling around them. The chain of command was broken and they were rapidly running out of options.

To make matters worse, a deranged angel was banging on the door demanding for their newest prisoner's release. Her sword was unsheathed and several Boros angels had engaged her in battle only to be beaten back.

"She fights with great strength," one of the angels cried to a soldier below who had decided to try his luck. Within moments his head was rolling across the ground and the renegade angel continued beating down the door.

The smoldering ruins of the prison cell blocks behind them created a terrifying image for the everyday citizen when Marthel and Ashleigh at last erupted triumphantly like a volcano of unholy fire and lightning. Four city blocks in each direction went dark due to the overload on their power systems from the wild spurts of lightning crackling between Ashleigh and various metallic conduits. Marthel had reached full on beast mode, flinging demonic fire at whoever stood in his path, trapping them with roots and reveling in their cries of anguish when their pleas for mercy had no effect.

It was the deranged look in his eyes that told Nadia she needed to go into damage control mode. She pushed her way through the fighting until she came face to face with Marthel and wrapped her strong arms around him, holding him in place. The fire began to fizzle, but his erratic heartbeat and quick, shallow breaths remained.

"Jace Marthel, I think you've done enough," she said softly in his ear.

Marthel closed his eyes. When he reopened them, his breathing had instead become deep and ragged. He was exhausted, completely beat, and collapsed against Nadia. They ducked down a side street and hurried away from the aftermath of his daring escape.

"Nadia, I think we'll need to move. I hear the area around Nivix is lovely and has far less crime."

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