#How to break black magic symptoms

[sserpente]

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write this for so long. If you’re in the mood for some angst, you’re in the right place!

Words: 1743 Warnings: angst, poisoning

You didn’t know what hurt more. Was it the fact that the man—god—you had fallen for was on the brink of death, taking his last breaths? Or was it the very circumstance that no one but you cared?

Tony Stark had been very clear about it. He tolerated Loki only per Thor’s humble request. The God of Thunder himself was less than pleased that the Trickster was to serve his sentence on Earth of all places. It was Odin’s magic that restricted him, keeping him from causing even more mayhem after the chaos he unleashed in New York City.

They were even less delighted about him joining their self-proclaimed superhero group on missions even though Thor himself claimed that Loki’s wit and skills could prove useful.

You had nothing to say in the matter of course. If anything, you were declared crazy because you had expressed your affinity for the God of Mischief and that included Loki himself.

You couldn’t help it. The way he smirked, the way he talked, the way he sat in the corner buried in a book—one of the very few instances you ever saw him relaxed, not to mention the occurrence with the cat… oh, the cat. A stray—black and white, young, purring and dancing around Loki’s feet, desperate for his attention. And when he’d bent down to pet it and even conjured some food for it, it was the last piece of evidence you had needed to conclude that this man was not evil. Misguided, betrayed, hurt? Yes, all of those things and more. But not evil.

It was the latter. The very circumstance that no one but you cared hurt more.

Thor had left for Asgard already, seeking the advice of their healers. It was ridiculous, truly. In a life-threatening emergency like this, how could his banishment still hold any weight? He needed help.

Your enemy had been thorough, researching each and everyone’s greatest weakness. And Loki’s had proved the most fatal. Whatever the extra-terrestrial had coated their weapon in before it fired its arrow at the God of Mischief, it prevented him from healing, had him break out in a sweat and slowly lose a battle against the poison now spreading in his body.

“Loki? Can you hear me? Please stay with me. You got to stay awake, alright?” He was on the sofa, with his head placed in your lap. You stroked his forehead in an attempt to soothe him. Blue eyes found yours and you were unsure whether he wanted to tell you to stay with him or let him die in peace. You’d been singing to him too. Trying to keep him in the present, in the now.

By the time Thor finally burst back into the room, Loki’s breathing had become dangerously shallow.

“Did you tell them about the symptoms? What did they say? What’s wrong with him? How are we gonna heal him?” The questions gushed out of you like a waterfall before he’d even set his hammer down.

Thor, however, grew silent for a moment. “There… Loki was poisoned. The rat knew what he was doing. The arrow was likely infused with blood from a Memphis of Muspelheim mixed with a deadly dose of mistletoe essence.”

You put one and one together immediately. “So… you’re saying this poison was specifically made to kill a Frost Giant?”

Thor looked down. “Yes.”

“Well, did you bring the antidote then?”

“There… there is no antidote. Not on Asgard. And I fear… there is no time to search the realms. The Jötuns have spent millennia destroying every last drop of this poison. There is hardly any antidote left.”

Your heart sank. No… no! You were not going to let Loki die!

“There has to be a way. Somewhere we can…” Your lips parted. “There is somebody. Someone who has everything. You mentioned him before, you said you brought the Aether to him!”

“The Collector?”

“He has it. He must have it.”

“What, and you think he will give it to you without anything in return?” Tony said.

“I didn’t say that. I’m sure we can offer him something in return to make it worth his while.” You turned back to Thor. “Heimdall can take us there. Please, Thor. This might be our only chance.”

Perhaps you should have been surprised that the God of Thunder relented. There was no doubt he too wanted his brother to survive. The entire time you’d been preparing to leave, Thor was brooding and lost in thought. He wasn’t one for big words—but he cared and for the moment, that was good enough for you.

The Collector’s place was dimly lit, eerily quiet and… it smelled awful. You took a deep breath regardless and gave a nod to Thor to venture forth.

“An Asgardian. And… a human?” The Collector tilted his head when you stepped into view. “What an… honour. What brings you to my humble domain?”

“We need your help. We’re looking for something rare. Thor’s brother Loki is Jötun and he’s been shot with an arrow drenched in a rare poison.”

“Hmm… yes, I’m familiar.”

“There is no antidote. If… if anyone has any left, it must be you.”

“So it must be… I do indeed have this antidote you speak of.” Your face lit up but judging by the Collector’s body language—a smug and repulsive expression, truly—he was not going to give it up easily.

“Surely, your Asgardian friend has told you of how the Jötuns have ensured every last drop of this poison gets destroyed. There was a need for an antidote no longer. The bottle that I have in my collection is… an antique, almost.”

“Fine,” you spat. “What do you want in return?”

“You see… I’ve never had a human in my collection.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting to respond.

“No!” Thor roared.

“Then I am afraid we have reached a dead end.”

“She’s not an object to be collected, she’s a person!”

“Thor!” Gnashing your teeth, you turned to him and took a deep breath. “It’s fine. Just take the antidote to Loki, alright?”

“No. There has to be another way.”

“Take the damn antidote to him, Thor!”

“I cannot let you do this.”

“You can and you will. He’s your brother, Thor! And I’m…” I’m in love with him. Heavens, was that stupid? Loki didn’t even know. It was absurd, wasn’t it? To sacrifice your own life in this way to see the God of Mischief live another day?

Yes. It was. But it… it felt like the right thing to do. Loki deserved another shot. A chance to redeem himself, to show the world that he was more than he let on. And a chance to have the damn world apologise to him, too.

“Tell him… tell him to live his best life, okay? Tell him… tell him not to be too harsh on himself. To… to love himself.”

“To love himself?” Thor frowned.

“Shut up and listen. Loki hates himself, don’t you see that? He hates what he is, he hates what he’s become. He hates himself. And you all played a part in that.”

“Why would you do this… for him?”

Your lips parted. “Tell him… tell him I fell for him.” There. You’d said it. But it didn’t matter anymore whether he’d reject you, right? You’d be here, wherever here was and Loki would be back on Earth, recovering. You’d never have to face his reaction after your confession and yet, he could live with the knowledge that he was not, in fact, so terrible, that no one could love him beyond a family bond like the one he shared with Thor.

“I… fine. I will. Mark my words, I will come back for you,” he added quietly.

You nodded. Was there hope? Possibly. Possibly not. But you did not doubt for a second that your sacrifice was worth it.

You didn’t know how many days had gone by since Thor’s departure. One? Three? Ten? There was no sunlight in this place, no clocks. One of the Collector’s lackeys made sure to feed you regularly at least, other than that… you were on your own, caged in a pretty glass box until he figured out what to do with you. Unless of course… he was just going to keep you on display like this like the maniac he was.

If you didn’t know better, you would have asked him for a book. Surely he had some in his collection. It was boredom and solitude that would drive you mad sooner or later, that much you were sure of.

Every sound nearby became more interesting than the next. The cracking of the metal tiles, the flapping of wings of the caged bird opposite your own stupid box, the ruffling of clothing whenever you moved… a massive explosion forcing everything in its vicinity several feet into the air. Wait, what?

Your eyes widened and you stood. Were you under attack? Oh heavens, no, you didn’t want to be killed inside of a glass box! Would there be another explosion? What if the cage broke and you bled to death because of the shards piercing your body?

Chaos erupted, yet the Collector was nowhere to be seen. A scream escaped your lips when with a start, a figure appeared right before your cage, remnants of green shimmering light enveloping them whole. It took you a moment to realise that it was Loki.

“My… that is quite the predicament you have landed yourself in, pet.”

“I… w-what? Loki… you’re alive, you’re fine. What are you doing here?” Unable to process what was happening, you inched back when the God of Mischief broke the lock and opened the cage for you to climb out. Electricity rippled through you when he took your hand in his.

“Rescuing you, of course.” His sly smirk had you gasping for air as you leaned against him. Your knees and legs hurt from having to sit for so long.

“Thor told me what you did.”

“Did he also tell you…”

Loki nodded. Without another word, he leaned forward and stole a chaste kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“Come. The others are waiting on the ship. And then, my dear, I shall show you the proper Asgardian way of courting a woman.”

You smiled, relief flooding your entire body as he picked you up and carried you home.

[ironstrange1991]

Need

Pairing: Doctor!Strange, Defender!Strange, Supreme!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After the reader breaks one of the Sanctum relics, she starts to feel a little strange and it is up to the Stephens to deal with the situation in the best way possible.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Polyamorous relationship dinamics. SMUT: Sex pollen, oral sex with male receiving, masturbation with male receiving, umprotected p in v sex, creampie, cum eating, slight spanking, slight degradation kink, there is probably more stuff that I am not remembering.

A/N: It took me almost a month to write this fic and I know many of you are anxious to finally read it, so I hope you like it and have a good reading.

You weren't feeling well. Your body was aching, but it wasn't a normal kind of pain, it was something very specific. At first you didn't pay attention to the sensations when they started, you ignored them as much as you could because you were worried and embarrassed about having broken one of the Sanctum's relics and you had no idea how to tell Stephen because you were tired of hearing phrases like: Don't touch things you don't know what they are; Don't mess with the relics; Stay away from magical artifacts.

You always did like you were told, but sometimes you needed to clean one shelf or another, you couldn't stand to see the dust gathering and Stephen never remembered to clean them and Defender never had time when you asked him to, so sometimes, against their advice, you did a good job cleaning everything.

It was exactly what you had done that morning. Since you were off work and the three Stephens were busy doing god knows what and you'd be spending the day alone, you decided to be productive and clean up the parts of the Sanctum that were always overlooked in routine cleaning.

Everything was going perfectly fine until you bumped into one of the many vases on the pedestals in the Window of the Worlds Room and it smashed to the floor. Inside the vase there was only earth. Or you thought it was earth, although you could have sworn you smelled a strange smell coming from it. It was a black and thin substance that, when it fell to the ground, raised a cloud of dust, soiling your clothes.

"What the fuck, Y/n" You screamed to yourself bringing your hand to your mouth completely paralyzed. It took a few minutes for you to calm down and clean up everything. As you put the pieces of the vase in a box and tried to pick up that disgusting dust from the floor to dump it in a plastic bag you were pretty sure you inhaled a lot of the substance, but you tried your best not to think about what that meant, although a thought insistent in the back of your head made you scared to death that the thing was actually the ashes of some important master who had died centuries ago and was now stuck to your hands and clothes.

But there were more important things to think about. For example, how were you going to tell Stephen that? He would be so mad at you.

Finally, you hid the box and plastic bag with all the earth you could pick up from the floor and put it on a shelf at the back of the library. You continued cleaning and tried to calm your anxiety by telling yourself that the best thing to do was to tell Defender what happened and ask him to fix the relic before Stephen noticed. You just knew he wasn't going to get mad at you and he would do his best to help you hide it from the other Stephens.

You were finishing your cleaning when you noticed the first symptoms. You felt a little dizzy and thought that was why you hadn't eaten anything in the morning, but then you started to feel hot. Very hot. Which wasn't normal since you were in the middle of autumn.

The other symptoms took longer to appear and it took you a while to notice that something was really wrong.

You noticed that you were thinking about Stephen a lot, which to a certain extent was normal, you thought about your Stephens all the time, however you were thinking about specific parts of their bodies and very specific things they did to you in bed and it was leaving you in an almost unbearable state of arousal.

By mid-day it was clear that those sensations were not normal, mainly because you tried to solve the problem yourself with one of your vibrators and you didn't get any results, in fact the situation seemed to get worse.

You were horny, sweating and aching for Stephen to the point where it became a real pain right between your legs. You couldn't think straight, but you knew it must have something to do with the substance you inhaled and seeing that your symptoms seemed to get stronger by the minute, you overcame your fear and shame and called the first Stephen in your cellphone speed dial.

The phone rang a few times until finally you heard the familiar baritone voice. The sound somehow made the ache between your legs increase.

"Stephen… can you come home, please?"

You didn't pay attention to how your voice sounded, but his response sounded worried. "Y/n? What happened?"

You inhaled and exhaled through your mouth "I'm not feeling well. Stephen, please... can you come home?"

"Honey, tell me what happened." Supreme insisted on an answer.

"Please Stephen, Hurry up!"

...

Stephen and Defender were talking to Wong in his office when Stephen's phone rang. He looked on the screen and seeing that it was Supreme he just declined the call. Whatever it was, it could wait.

A few seconds later Defender's cell phone rang and he excused himself to Wong and left the room to answer it. He came back quickly seeming worried.

"Something happened to Y/n. We need to go home."

Wong didn't ask any questions, he just waved towards the door "Well, go ahead then. Let me know if you need anything."

Stephen walked out of Wong's office with Defender on his heels.

"What exactly did she say?" He asked putting his sling ring on his finger.

"Supreme said she called him begging him to come home. Said she's not feeling well."

Stephen opened a portal to the Sanctum's living room and the two walked through it, finding the room empty.

"And why did she call him?" Stephen didn’t even try to hide his annoyance.

"This is no time to be jealous, Doctor." Defender answered while they went up the stairs and crossed the corridor quickly finding the door to the master bedroom, Stephen's room, open.

When they got there, they found Y/n sitting on Supreme's lap, both arms thrown around his shoulders, face hidden in the crook of his neck. He was stroking her hair, whispering in her ear.

"What happened?" Stephen asked, quickly noticing that her skin was red and glowing, her clothes was wet with sweat.

Hearing his voice, she got up and ran to him, her arms wrapping around his neck, her lips colliding against his. Stephen kissed her quickly, but brought his hand to her forehead.

"Christ, she is burning!" He said casting a worried look at Defender.

Defender touched her arm and as if she had only noticed his presence at that moment, she let go of Stephen and threw herself into his arms.

"I'm sorry, baby. It was my fault."

Defender shushed her "What happened, baby?"

"I was cleaning the house and... it was an accident, I didn't want to break anything, you know I'm always careful with your things..."

Defender shushed her and faced Stephen worriedly. "We should take her to the hospital."

Stephen nodded "Sweetheart, whatever you broke, we'll fix it later. Now, tell me what you're feeling."

She faced him shyly taking Defender's hand and lowering it until it reached between her legs "I’m feeling weird here."

The two Stephens glared at each other and Supreme chuckled nervously. "Did you notice the smell on her clothes?"

Defender buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. She moaned softly and shamelessly rubbed herself in Defender's hand. "Baby, please. Make the ache go away."

Stephen sighed heavily "What exactly did you break, sweetheart?"

"A vase. It was on one of the pedestals in the Window of the Worlds room."

Stephen shook his head "If it's what I think it is, it could take hours for her to get better and the symptoms are only going to get worse unless we..." He didn't finish what he was saying, instead he glanced at Y/ n moaning and grinding herself in Defender’s hand like a cat in heat.

"Baby...please." She whined.

Defender shushed her and placed a kiss on her forehead. "It's okay, baby. We'll make the ache go away."

Supreme stood up "I'm going to lock the Sanctum. Hope you guys saved your energy today.

...

You were burning. Inside out. But unlike any other known fever you didn't feel cold, you were literally melting in beaks of sweat.

Stephen insisted on putting you under the shower to remove any trace of the magical substance that was stuck to your skin and although the water was cold, you were still burning.

He insisted on soaping you up like he was bathing a child and the whole time he kept his face straight and didn't say a word. That, along with all the weird sensations in your body, brought tears to your eyes.

"I'm sorry, Stephen." You apologized for the thousandth time, your voice trembling. "Please, don't be mad at me."

He sighed heavily helping you rinse the soap off your body and smiled reassuringly "I'm not mad at you. I'm just worried. I don't know how long this is going to last."

You whimpered hearing those words. You just wanted it to stop. "Don't you have any spells you can use?"

He shook his head "Not that I know of, at least." He turned off the shower and wrapped you in a towel "Come on, let me take you to bed, I'll take care of you."

Supreme and Defender were in the room sitting in the two armchairs next to the fireplace, but the fire had been put out.

Stephen touched your forehead "The temperature dropped a little with the cold water" He said sitting you on the bed and going to the wardrobe to get a change of clothes for you.

"I don't feel any better. It's too hot." You complained looking at the silk pajamas he chose for you to wear. "I don't want to get dressed, Stephen. I just said it's too hot."

He sighed rolling his lips "Okay, Sweetheart, as you wish." He placed the change of clothes on top of the bedside table looking unsure of his next actions, so you let go of the towel letting it fall down your naked body. "I need you."

He gave Supreme and Defender a quick look as if he was expecting some kind of approval and you spread your legs so he could fit between them.

Stephen touched your face and allowed himself a smirk "I never thought I would have to make love to you under these circumstances, love. This is for you to learn to listen to me and not mess with the Sanctum relics."

You pouted "But you want to make love to me, don't you?"

He took off the shirt he was wearing and you were eager to touch his defined chest. You scratched at his skin, your hand going down to the waistband of his pants. You helped him to undress. He was hard already and you couldn't help but devour him with your eyes.

Stephen grabbed your chin making you look into his eyes. "I always want to make love to you, sweetheart. Always. But something tells me that’s not what you need today."

You grabbed his cock and started to pump him and Stephen let out a little groan watching you spit in your hand and stroke him nice and hard to get him ready for you. He gently pulled your hand away and took over giving his cock a couple of jerks.

“You need to be fucked and that’s precisely what I’m going to do to you now.” He finally entered you drawing a loud moan from your lips. The feeling inside you seemed to intensify for a moment, but when he started to move you felt relief, it was like you could finally breathe after being submerged for so long.

"Oh Stephen..."

Stephen groaned, his face in the crook of your neck, your legs entwined behind his back. He wasn't being gentle and you didn't want him to be. He was right, this definitely wasn't about making love at all, you were filled with the most basic, primal desire to be dominated by a man and be used without mercy.

Stephen leaned on one of the canopy columns of the bed and considerably increased the strength of his thrusts.

"Yes, right there, Stephen."

He grabbed your chin making you look at him "Does it feel better now?" He asked, his breathing coming in between gasps.

You just nodded.

"I know. My cock is making you feel a lot better, isn't it, sweetheart?"

 You nodded vehemently and clung to his neck, searching for his lips as if you needed them to breathe.

"I need you to come, Stephen. Inside me. It will help, I know it will help. Please."

Stephen groaned loud "Need my cum inside you, uh? That will make the pain go away?"

"Yes, yes, it will. Please, Stephen, cum for me, cum inside me, give it all to me."

Stephen buried his face in your neck getting carried away by the moment and let out a loud moan right by your ear and his thrusts stopped completely and you felt his cum spurting inside of you, thick, warm and so much of it. You moaned feeling a different kind of climax. You didn't come, but it was like your body was reveling in the sensation of having his cum inside you. Like the body of a person who has spent days in the desert and can finally feel the water running down their throat.

Stephen kissed you gently and pulled out. "How does it feel now? Better?" He asked, checking on you. He was panting.

You felt slightly better, but the fire still burned between your legs. Somehow you knew it was far from over.

You bit your inner lip and shook your head.

"It may take some time to actually get better, but we're here, we'll take care of you."

You wrapped your arms around him pulling him back on top of you "I need more, Steph, please..."

He chuckled. "I need a few minutes to get ready for you again, sweetheart." He responded placing a peck on your lips and then addressed Supreme. "She needs more. You take over now?"

Supreme got up with an ironic smile on his lips "Tired already, Doctor?"

Stephen pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, but he didn't respond, wisely deciding that this wasn't the time to argue.

When Supreme approached you stopping beside the bed there was a smirk on his lips and his eyes showed that he was holding back his laughter.

"It's not funny, Stephen." You said slightly offended.

"I know, I know this is a terrible situation, honey, but I can't help it." He said giggling and pulling you to his lips. You slapped his shoulder, but kissed him anyway. You reached for his belts, but he snapped his fingers impatiently and quickly got rid of his robes. You pulled him on top of you, letting his body weight make his cock rub against your clit. It felt good, very good.

You moaned pornographically loudly.

"Of all the relics, you had to bump into that vase." He said nibbling your bottom lip and teasing you.

"Stephen, please..."

"I know, I know." He patted your hip "Turn around. Get on your hands and knees for me."

You complied, but he tsked "Turn full length on the bed. Let's give the other Stephens a better view of our actions."

You did as you were told and pulled a pillow up to your head, hugging it tight and lifting your ass as high as possible. Supreme rubbed the tip of his cock on your slit, using Stephen's cum as lube. He put two fingers inside you fingering you and gave his cock a couple of jerks and finally, finally, entered you with a hard thrust.

He stopped with his dick buried inside you enjoying the feeling "Fuck, honey, you feel so good, so impossibly warm..."

"Stephen, please move." You begged and moaned loudly when he did as you asked. He rested both hands on your waist pulling you against his thrusts at an incredibly fast pace.

"Oh my god yes, yes Stephen, just like that, fuck me just like that.”

He slapped your ass cheek hard, much harder than you were used to, making you yelp. "Yeah, just like that? Who could tell a magical relic could turn my girl into such a needy little whore, uh?"

You whimpered softly feeling the mixture of pleasure and relief flood your body, Stephen's teasing having an effect on you. "Y-Yes, Stephen"

He slapped you again and kept his pace incredibly rough "Such a needy little thing desperate to be fucked. Aren't you ashamed?"

You shook your head no "It feels good, Steph... when you fuck me like this. So good."

Stephen groaned obscenely loud, his fingers carving the flesh of your hips, his heavy balls slamming against your clit as he fucked your pussy with such hunger.

"I know, honey. It feels good for me too. Your pussy is so warm and so delicious... wanna cum inside and fill you with my seed. Will it help calm the ache?"

"Y-yes, it will, please give it to me, Stephen."

You bit the pillow suppressing your desperate moans that were quickly escalating to screams.

"Oh, I will, but I want to enjoy this warm little pussy a bit more. It feels so good."

He brought one of his hands to your hair, gripping it tightly and pulling, using it as a rein to pull you against his thrusts. It felt so good, so right to give yourself to him like that, for a minute all that existed was the two of you and the sounds of the sex you were having, loud and wet.

"F-Feels so good, Stephen, cock's fucking me so good. It's so big."

He slapped your ass ever harder this time, the sharp pain somehow adding to your pleasure. "Cock feels good inside your pussy, uh honey? You know what, I think you made it on purpose, wanted to know how it would feel to be this horny for my cock."

"N-No, I didn't. But it feels good when you're fucking me." You moaned loudly and bit the pillow feeling your whole body tingling with a strange sensation, it was almost as if you could feel your orgasm approaching, but at the same time it was different, too strange, and too strong and it all felt too much. "Please, Stephen cum, it feels too much, I need you to cum."

Stephen groaned "Beg for it, just one more time."

"P-Please Steph, I need your cum, please cum inside me, please."

And so he did. Stephen's thrusts came to a halt, he moaned so loud and you felt his cum spurting inside you. It felt good and you felt relieved. Your legs gave out and you fell face down on the mattress. Stephen supported his body weight on his arms and kissed your cheek.

"Good girl. Tell me, does it feel any better now, or do you need more?

You were panting, your heart was pounding in your ears, yet you know you were far from sated. "N-Need more."

You were scared by the intensity of it. The relief you felt when he was fucking you, or pushing his cum inside you, gave way to the already known need, a desire for sex that seemed inhuman.

"I know, honey. We'll give you more."

...

Defender was extremely hard. His cock was throbbing desperately asking for Y/n, and it couldn't be any different. Even though he was used to sharing her in bed with the other Stephens, watching them fuck her was still one of the most arousing things he'd ever done in his life. Over time he stopped questioning whether that was right or wrong and just enjoyed the moment.

He couldn't believe such a silly accident could have led to that, and the problem wasn’t that she would have to have sex for the rest of the day and they would have to provide that for her, that was a privilege. The thing that was bothering Stephen was that she was, to a certain extent, suffering, and he wanted to alleviate that, he wanted to make the ache go away.

He went to her, eager to play his part, but first, he conjured a glass of water and made her drink it. He took the hair tie that held his hair and tied hers in a ponytail.

"It'll help with the heat." He said caressing her face. "I wish there was more I could do, baby."

She threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck "I'm sorry..."

"Shh, its okay, we are not mad at you, none of us are mad at you. It was an accident, accidents happen."

Y/n sought his lips desperately and he kissed her. Her hands were eager to free him from his robes.

Stephen let her undress him. He kicked off his boots and got rid of his pants and boxers and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

She grabbed his cock and spat on it and swallowed it whole with such a hunger that Stephen gasped. She started bobbing her head along his length and Stephen grabbed her ponytail and let himself indulge in the feeling of her mouth sucking his cock for a minute, but as soon as he realized how that wasn't going to help her situation at all, he gently grabbed her chin and pulled her off his cock.

"Baby, you shouldn't make me cum in your mouth, it would be a waste. You need it inside, remember?"

She nodded with a sweet pout "But it feels good when I such your cock, baby."

Defender almost melted at those words. God, she was so lovely and he was so in love with her that sometimes it felt like his chest was going to explode. So much love that he never dreamed of being able to feel before he met her.

He pulled her to his lips and she moved to straddle him. "I know it'll be even better if you ride me, baby. What do you think, uh? Would you like to use me to make yourself cum?"

She nodded and he guided his cock to her entrance and she lowered her body letting him stretch her inch by inch.

"Oh, baby it feels so good." She moaned resting both hands on his shoulders.

Stephen let out a soft groan "Yeah? Use me then, baby. Fuck me any way you want. I'm yours."

She moaned loudly and began to ride him at first slowly and then increased the pace, fucking him fast and hard, riding him with such desperation. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him for a passionate kiss, eliciting a hum from him and Stephen closed his eyes forgetting for a moment why they were making love like that in the middle of the day. He just concentrated on the wonderful feeling of having her tight and warm pussy around his cock, squeezing him incredibly tight.

Y/n let herself be carried away by the moment, her forehead pressed against his, her lips stealing passionate kisses from his lips. It felt so good, definitely too good.

Stephen held her waist to make her stop for a second. "Slow down, baby. Don't make me cum yet, I want to last for you."

She nodded, but her hips kept moving albeit slowly. "It feels good. Your cock is making me feel so good, Stephen."

"Your pussy feels amazing too, baby. I never get tired of making love to you, you know that?" He cupped her face and kissed her ardently and in one swift movement he placed her under him and entered inside her again, thrusting slowly but putting intensity into the movements, going deep enough to reach that special part of her that always made her moan louder. . And as soon as he found it, she whimpered.

"Y-yes, baby, right there."

She locked her legs behind his back and dug her nails into his skin.

"Gonna cum for me, uh?" He teased.

Y/n nodded. "Yes, yes, baby, I'm so close. Wanna cum, Steph, please."

Stephen leaned on the headboard to increase the intensity of the thrusts and put his other hand between them, he started rubbing her clit in circles and instantly he felt her pussy fluttering around his cock. She closed her eyes and her whole body started to shake.

"That's it baby, don't hold back, cum for me."

She moaned outrageously loud and grabbed a handful of his hair pulling him to her lips. Stephen kissed her passionately and kept thrusting, prolonging her climax and feeling his balls tightening.

"Fuck baby, wanna cum in you. Can I cum, love? Tell me I can cum."

She smiled sweetly. "Y-yes...cum baby...inside." Her voice sounded shaky and so sweet. Stephen buried his face in her neck and gave a couple of intense thrusts before coming to a complete stop, emptying himself into her.

Stephen knew it didn't matter how many times he had come inside her, every time was special and it always made him feel like the happiest man in the world.

...

You opened your eyes feeling your body tired, but you were far from sated. Although the strange feeling and heat had subsided considerably, the arousal you felt was far from being considered normal. Your body was trembling under Stephen, you were feeling weird in your stomach and your walls were clenching around his cock as evidence of how much you still wanted him.

Stephen's heavy breathing in your ear didn't do much to help your situation as you loved the sounds they made when they finished on you.

You stroked his hair gently kissing the top of his head.

 "How are you feeling right now?" He asked in your ear and kissed your lips gently.

"Better, but I still want you." You replied feeling your cheeks getting hot, but deciding to get over your shyness. There was no room for that when you were with your men. "Actually, I think I need my three Stephens now." You confessed.

He smirked cupping your cheek and kissing your lips again. "Yeah? I'm sure the others are eager to join us."

He pulled out and you stretched out on the bed. You were feeling a little sore between your legs, but you didn't pay much attention to that.

He conjured a cloth to clean you up. "We made a mess on you, baby." He admitted making you chuckle.

"I like it."

You waited patiently while he cleaned you up carefully, being extra affectionate. When he was finally satisfied with his work, he got rid of the dirty cloth and kissed you. Your fingers tangled in his hair and he let out a soft moan. So soft and so sweet.

"I want your mouth now, baby, if that's okay." He asked nibbling on your bottom lip.

You nodded, but gently pushed him away so you could sit down. You hooked your finger, inviting the other Stephens to join in too.

"There's room for more Stephens in this bed." You teased.

Stephen, who had put his boxers back on, walked promptly to you, his cock visibly hard beneath the white fabric. There was a smirk on his lips as he sat down on the mattress beside you and stroked your cheek, the tension from before long gone.

"You have no idea what it's like for me to see them fuck you, sweetheart." He confessed taking your hand and leading it to his cock. "You look so good while being fucked, taking them so well. You make me so proud."

"Hm, I love being fucked by all my Stephens. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world." You responded grabbing his cock through the fabric, moving to sit on his lap and pulling him to your lips. He wrapped his arms around you and thrusted his tongue into your mouth, dominating yours in a big, wet, jealous kiss. It was you who broke the kiss first, running your lips down his neck, biting and sucking the skin while grinding yourself back and forth in his shaft.

He groaned and patted your ass and suggested "Get on all fours and stick that luscious ass out for me so you can suck Defender while I fuck you from behind. What do you think, Sweetheart?"

You nodded, smiling slyly, but cast a questioning look at Supreme who was still sitting, smoking a cigarette and watching you intently.

He smirked "I'll join you soon, honey. Now, do as he says, make me proud."

You nodded at him dismounting from Stephen's lap and positioned yourself on all fours making sure to stick your ass as high as possible while wrapping your arms around Defender's thighs and grabbing his cock. You gave him a teasing look before popping it into your mouth eliciting a loud moan from his lips. He threw his head back indulging in the pleasure of it.

"Fuck baby. Oh yes...she really knows how to suck dick." He praised and Stephen chuckled proudly.

"I know, she is amazing." Stephen answered slapping your ass. "Isn't that right, sweetheart? Show him you're the best."

You let out a muffled moan when Stephen thrust two fingers into your pussy and started to fuck you with them. You felt him nudging your entrance with the tip of his cock and you wiggled your ass teasingly as he gripped your waist tight and entered you with a single thrust. You would have screamed if your mouth wasn't stuffed with Defender's cock.

Stephen kept the pace fast and strong and Defender grabbed your hair that was starting to come loose from the hair tie and wrapped it around his hand, but he didn't push. "That's right, baby, feels so good. Flick that wonderful tongue on the head. Yes, just like that. Such a good girl, such a good baby sucking my cock so good."

You groaned loudly, loving hearing Defender loosing up like that. Usually, he was always very modest in dirty talk, which only made the moment even more exciting.

Stephen slapped your ass again, harder this time, and pulled his cock out of you, teasing. "Such a dirty little girl taking my cock so well, uh? And sucking Defender's dick too. You drive me crazy, you know that? Make me wanna fucking ruin you."

You took Defender's cock out of your mouth to respond to his taunts. "Ruin me, Steph. Fuck me til I can't walk. I'm still so horny."

"Yeah? I guarantee you learned a lesson today, didn't you?"

You pumped Defender’s cock hard and replied "You guys aren't mad at me?"

 "How could I be mad at you if your disobedience resulted in the three of us fucking you like that?" Stephen replied entering you all at once and starting to pound into you, the sound of flesh against flesh and your breaths and moans was all you could hear.

Defender pulled you to his lips, fucking your mouth with his tongue as you let out a moan on his lips.

"He's right, baby. You need to be more careful, but none of us are mad at you. How could we…"

He directed you back to his cock and you spat at it and shoved it in your mouth going all the way down this time, feeling the tip hitting against the back of your throat.

He groaned loudly. "...when you suck cock like that? Fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me cum."

You just hummed in response.

"Is that what you want? Want my cum in your mouth?"

You hummed positively making Stephen groan in response. "Such a dirty little thing. She needs cum in all her holes today, isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Uh hum" You hummed while Stephen fucked your pussy in such violent pace. You put your all into your work, swallowing Defender's cock and then taking it out of your mouth and flicking your tongue at the head and sucking hard and then running your tongue down the length of it just to swallow it again and repeating the process until he moaned loudly and grabbed a handful of your hair and spurted ropes of his warm cum into your mouth.

"Oh fuck..." He let out something between a groan and a chuckle. "Take it, baby. Swallow it all."

You were aware that this was definitely not Defender's usual behavior, he was usually much softer than that and much less talkative, but you couldn't deny how much that side of him appealed to you.

His moans were like music to your ears. "That's it baby... so fucking good. Oh... love you so much."

You took his cock out of your mouth and made sure you opened it for him to see his cum inside and only then did you do as you were told, swallowing everything and sticking your tongue out for him to see.

“So fucking dirty.” He groaned pulling you to his lips.

"I love you too" You moaned in his lips as Stephen's thrusts became more erratic and you could feel him pulsing inside you.

He let out a loud groan. "Fuck sweetheart, pussy feels too good, gonna cum, tell me you want my cum too, tell me how much you need it."

You moaned feeling that you were close too. Your body responding to his thrusts, the coil threatening to snap each time he hit your sweet spot. "Fuck yes, Steph. N-need your cum, give it to me."

He grabbed your hair and pulled it pulling you against his chest as he fucked you mercilessly.

"Body is desperate for more cum, uh? You're leaking and you still need more?" He teased whispering in your ear.

"Y-Yes. Need more."

"Yeah? You're a greedy little whore, aren't you? One Stephen isn't enough, it takes three to fill that pussy with cum and make the ache go away?"

"Uh hum" You hummed feeling that you were very close to your second orgasm. "Stephen... wanna cum."

Stephen bit your earlobe and lowered one of his hands to the middle of your legs and began to rub your clit in circles. You let out a loud moan. "Oh yes, Steph, make me cum."

He hummed in your ear making sure to rub his goatee in your skin, making it prickle. "Then say it: I'm a greedy little whore who needs three Stephens to satisfy me."

You whimpered repeating the words the way he wanted and once he was done with his teasing he started to pound into you even harder and that added to the stimulation of his long fingers on your clit was enough to make you come, but this time it was bigger, more intense and you felt warm liquid running down your legs. Stephen groaned loudly and started to spurt his cum inside you. He didn't stop thrusting until he was fully finished, pushing his cum inside you with each thrust.

"F-Fuck yes. Oh my god, sweetheart... the things you do to me..."

You felt your legs shaking and Stephen pulled out and you sat up in bed. Your entire body was shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

"Fuck sweetheart, you squirted all over the bed, made a mess." He stated, but there was a certain pride in his eyes, the corners of his mouth curled up in a smirk. "Was it that good?"

You nodded letting yourself be pulled into Supreme's lap who had returned to bed. You were so lost in your pleasure that you didn't even notice Defender pulling away, he was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace now, dressed in sweatpants, his hair pulled back in a messy bun. He smiled proudly at you, deciding to just enjoy the show as now he was satisfied.

"First time wetting the bed like that, honey? You're going to have to do it again for me now." Supreme teased but you knew he was serious, you could see in the way his irises darkened that he was jealous.

"I... don't know how I did it." You replied feeling your face getting hot. "I never..."

"He knows, sweetheart." Stephen chuckled "I'm sure it will happen again sometime. Now, give me a kiss." He cupped your chin and kissed you and then got up and walked gloriously naked to the bathroom.

Supreme held your chin between his thumb and index finger making you look at him. "How you're feeling now? Pussy still feeling weird?"

You stroked his hair, tucking a few white strands behind his ear and trying to understand how you felt. The desperation and the heat had passed, your body was tired and sore, but you still felt the desire for sex and you knew that wasn't normal, because you had already come twice, the second one being the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced.

"I'm feeling better, but I still need you." You replied cupping his face.

He smirked "That pollen really turned you into an insatiable little thing, didn't it?"

You nodded feeling your cheeks getting hot and buried your face in the crook of his neck. "I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't even know what was in that vase."

He stroked your back, his trembling fingertips brushing lightly across your skin. "I know, I was just teasing you, honey. We know you don't need pollen to be horny."

He took your hand and led it down to his cock. He was so hard for you.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock and turned your head to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. Your lips moved in sync as your tongues fought for dominance, neither of you willing to give in, but when you tightened your hand around his cock and began to pump him at a fast, precise pace he relinquished control moaning loudly and you took the opportunity to win him over by sucking his tongue with a victorious hum.

It was you who moved to position him inside you. You were leaking, Stephen's cum running down your thighs mixed with your own fluids, but neither you nor Supreme cared about the mess at that point. All that mattered was the desire you both felt and as you sank into his cock he moaned loudly cupping your face and making you look into his eyes.

"I love you, Y/n. I love the life we ​​share." He whispered as a secret in your ear.

You grinned as you move up and down fucking him slowly but oh so good. "I love you too, Stephen. I love all my Stephens."

He smirked grabbing your waist and taking control back to himself, moving you on his cock at the pace he wanted, always fast, hard, rough even. The squelching sound of his cock fucking your pussy was so arousing, you were so wet, the sensation was different and so amazing and it wasn't just you who noticed that, because Supreme groaned completely lost in his pleasure and confessed. "Fuck, honey, pussy feels so nice wet like that. Cum is the best lube in the world."

You let out a small giggle letting yourself be manhandled by him and feeling like the coil in the pit of your stomach was about to snap again. He felt it too because your walls fluttered around his cock and he groaned loudly, both of his hands grabbing your ass cheeks and moving you up and down.

"Are you going to come for me now? One orgasm for each Stephen?" He teased and you just nodded, your arms wrapped around his neck to keep your balance as you rocked on his cock.

"Do it, honey. Do it now. I can't hold back any longer. Gonna cum too."

You forced yourself down rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone and let yourself be dominated by the wave of pleasure that washed over you.

Stephen came soon after, pushing ropes and ropes of cum inside you.

You two ended up panting, devouring each other's mouths and moaning.

After five loads of cum inside, you felt the fire and need for sex die down leaving you in a state of exhaustion you couldn't remember ever feeling before. Your body slumped over Stephen and your eyes closed almost immediately and you felt him holding you tighter, but everything around you was an incomprehensible blur.

...

Stephen returned to the bedroom after taking a shower and putting on a pair of pants. He had also prepared the bathtub with warm water and Y/n favorite bath salts, imagining that she would need them to relax after their activities.

"If you guys are done, I prepared a bath for her." Stephen said and Supreme nodded.

"Hear that, honey? A hot bath will help you feel better."

She just hummed and mumbled some incomprehensible words.

Defender got up and walked over to them. "I take care of her." He said taking Y/n from Supreme's lap and taking her to the bathroom.

Supreme quickly cleaned himself up and used magic to dress back in his robes and boots. "I'll take care of the mess Doctor, maybe we'd better take a look at that relic before Wong finds out she broke it."

Stephen nodded. "You're right. Did she say where she put it?"

"At the library. In a box."

Supreme used magic to dry the mattress she had soaked so beautifully and part of him was still fighting the jealousy that scene caused in him. He put clean sheets on the bed and finished organizing everything before leaving. After an afternoon like that, he was begging for a hot shower and some sleep.

Defender knew Y/n was exhausted, so he bathed her quickly and sat her up in bed and helped her get dressed in the silk pajamas Stephen had left on the bedside table. He used magic to dry her hair and helped her under the sheets.

"Is cold." She complained now that she was totally free from the influence of the pollen.

"Do you want a blanket, or do you want me to light the fireplace?"

But she didn't answer, falling asleep almost immediately.

He covered her with a blanket and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Love you baby." He whispered and left the room.

...

Stephen shouldn't have been surprised to find Wong in the library. It was the most common thing in the world, but due to all the events he couldn't help but curse internally.

"How is y/n feeling?" The Sorcerer Supreme asked walking down the hall carrying a box with pieces of what was once a relic.

"She is better now." That's all Stephen said.

Wong smiled to himself. "I will take this to Kamar Taj to repair the relic and its contents."

Stephen nodded. "That's precisely what I came to do now."

Wong seemed to think for a moment before speaking. "You know, there's an herbal infusion that can be brewed to ease the... symptoms, but it looks like the three of you managed to solve the problem quite well."

Stephen was blushing like a teenager. "Yes. Thank you, Wong."

Wong nodded opening a portal back to Kamar Taj. “Keep her away from my relics, Strange.” He demanded.

Stephen sighed watching the portal closing and shook his head still trying to believe in everything that had happened. The things Y/n did to Stephen, to all the Stephens... Yet he wouldn’t change a thing.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[dairy-farmer]

Actually? Can't stop thinking about this possibly expanded Time-Loop Of Bad Ideas AU? Because EVERYONE could get one! That Idol was made for Life Lessons and good at it's job!

Why NOT Moar Loops~☆?

And? Was GOING to suggest the whole BatFam. But this time not together. BUT THEN? My muse(adhd brain) smacked me and called me a coward! Go BIGGER they demanded! That sexy, sexy genius(me)!

That bust was probably not in Gotham! Or at least, not FULLY in Gotham. Maybe it was Superman, maybe someone else, but SOMEONE saw the Idol when Bruce found it.

We have PROTOCOLS, Batman.

That YOU made.

GDI. He sighs, but admits it's true. And Magic Bullshitry means getting scanned for Curses and Compulsions. Everyone up to the Watchtower. *various Bat Children groans of annoyance* No getting out of it. Come on, better this then getting possessed.

They Zeta up. Annoyed but here.

It's late and they'll probably miss dinner.

Come to find out? Fuckin EVERYONE but Captian Marval and Wonder Woman, who knows Magic, is off doing "Magic". Just... unspecified, vauge, could be anywhere, "Magic".

REALLY?!

AND they get pulled into a last minute, emergency, meeting about where they should store the Idol. Because all Wonder Woman and Marvel can TELL them about it? Is "Yep, Cursed. Probably."

And so they are annoyed. Everyone is arguing. Tensions are getting higher and higher. Somebody mutters a snide comment about somebody ELSE'S sidekick, and? Punching breaks out. Shoving. The big three stand to break it up.

But it's too late.

Some IDIOT throws a CHAIR. Their target, being a trained hero, OBVIOUSLY dodges. Which means it sails right across the table and HITS THE IDOL. Crash!

BOOM.

Everyone is slammed back by a lightshow and huge wall of air. Wonder Woman is FURIOUS. Marvel scared. Everyone gets checked out. Everyone, Go Home and isolate for AT LEAST 24 hours. Report any symptoms or strange thoughts.

They go home. Go to bed. Midnight.

Click.

Everyone locked in their own little Loops.

Now, some of those affected? Lesbians. Married and grossly, gooey, shmoopy, "No, yooou~♡" hang-up type In Love. Or just not in to him.

But! How many people in Loops? Do you think? Get that Bad Idea impulse~

Feel their eyes get drawn towards the Highly Competent and Sexy, Red Robin? Pretty-boy Tim Drake? Their Friend, colleague, or the son of such? It's a time loop. Who would ever know? They HAVE always been... curious.

I mean, they'd treat him right. It's not like they're HURTING anybody! Doing anything against his consent. It's just a Bad Idea.

Batman would murder them. Nightwing would help. Launch them straight into the nearest black hole. Or it would CHANGE things. Their relationship altered forever. Or... well, he's their Brother. Their Son.

So many reasons Not Too.

But it's a Time Loop.

They wear you down. Mentally and emotionally. You get lonely. A little bit crazy. Start doing things you know you shouldn't.

Like eating out your Boy until he's sloppy and ruined, fingering him for hours. Just to feel that sweet heat in your hand. Lazily resting you head on a trembling stomach, not letting him escape. Not hearing him ask for it to end, only whimper that it's too much. Because he's so good for you. And always has been.

Or finally breaking down, when the loneliness gets unbearable. And clinging like an octopus, as you bend your little Tim in HALF. Rolling and snapping your hips like you want to crawl inside his skin. Soaking in the pleasured cries your punching out with every thrust. How CLOSE you finally are.

Sneaking in windows, early in the morning. Teammates, Supers and Speedsters. Crimelords, here to pound him rough and sweet on his own bed. People who should NOT, but do~

Why so early? Uncle Clark?

What brings you to Gotham, Hal Jordan?

Hi, Roy, looking for Jason?

Even crossing paths, as choices diverge things. Ah, Aquaman! Your Majesty, what did you need me for?

All while Tim is, in his OWN Loop? Discovering that Sex is actually kinda awesome. And that he should never be left unsupervised. But mostly the first one!

And THIS time? Because I am a generous and benevolent Enabling Jackass? He DEFINITELY steals Dick's "time to threaten Deathstroke" burner phone. And uses it for purposes other then intended.

One stack of info, several shiny new crates of ammo, and showing up in Dick's Robin costume later? He's in Cairo getting his guts destroyed by a supersoldier. The day resets before Slade even breaks a sweat. Tim on the other hand? Passed "fucked incoherent" about three hours back and would probably shoot him, if the dick weren't making him too uncoordinated and stupid.

Nonetheless? Bats pull miracles. And Tim finds Constantine. Who refuses to TOUCH anything of the "learn a life lesson" variety. Since too many deity have it out for him.

But he is just a man.

And finds himself suddenly MUCH more agreeable and willing to try, after being dragged into another room and slammed against a wall. Blown by Batman's kid.

Nothing like face fucking a Robin to motivate a man to greatness, he discovers.

Which? Is when everyone gets their assorted bank of Loop memories. Lot of boredom for a few. Lovey Dovey bonding for others. Life lessons etc.

But?

Oh.

Oh My God.

Kon is panicking. As it filters in. Tim, bro, he can EXPLAIN! Constantine has cut off in amusement. Because, see? This? This right here is why he avoids- blah blah blah- *white noise* *Distant sound of Kon panicking and his Phone trying to explode itself with texts*

Because HOLY SHIT. Tim stares into the middle distance and realizes? So... SO many people jumped at the chance to fuck him. Like... A LOT.

So many.

His head is FULL of getting RAILED. Kon looks like he's gonna cry. Clark is ripping the door off the hinges. He can explain! Kon no longer looks like he's gonna cry. Explain WHAT, Clark?!

Tim fucked...So Many People.

Or was it Fucked By?

Both?

Does.... does he have Boyfriends now? Bootycalls? A harem?

..............whoops?

*arguing over Tim only gets louder as more Heros show up*

-🐼🐼🐼

all of them taking the opportunity to fuck tim- including some people tim's horny brain hadn't even gotten to considered but now had memories of fucking!😭😭

[rel124c41]

WALT DISNEY WORMDOG I. jade leech/oc

please contact your local doctor if you are experiencing the following symptoms: prophetic dreams, the feeling that someone is calling from across the water and from across the wave, midnight visitors, scars from sand, new friendships, black blood coming out your ears but NOT your nose, inhuman strength, canine teeth on your throat, & the philosophy that we should move on from our past and never let it hold us back from the possibilities of tomorrow.

a/n: a midnight conversation after jamil’s overblot

tags: blood and injury, oc is from the x reader called ‘the look on your face’, & established relationship

word count: 1996

“Hot, hot, hot, hot.”

“So you’ve griped.”

“Hot, hot, hot, hot.”

“Really, I would have never imagined.”

Panting like a mutt, molten lava on his draped tongue, the Ramshackle Prefect turns around to the vice-housewarden who has been following him like a duckling. He tries to mold his expression into something serious, something vexed. It is like trying to push melting ice-cream back into a sphere.

So, features wilting right back into that heat-stricken expression, the Ramshackle Prefect marches right back on to his destination. If Octavinelle’s vice wants to play his part as a mosquito in this Sahara-esque dorm, let Jade have his fun. There is something Marion needs to do.

For the first time in three days, his hand finally breaks contact with his sword’s handle.

White calluses on his tan hand are as prominent as fresh tattoo ink. The indents and intricate carvings have meshed themselves into his hand. You could mistake them for his palm’s natural creases if not for the single column of sigils upon feather-patterned horse-hoof pommel hilt. Damascus steel meets cobblestone.

Marion’s knees? They punch the cobblestone ground with an angry passion. Collapsing, he grips the edge of Scarabia’s pure gold fountain and ducks his head underwater.

An amused smile appears on Jade’s face. How truly unusual. Closing the distance, the eel-mer decides to take his own little respite too. After a battle and party, one should make time to unwind. Sitting on the edge of gold, Jade stretches out his legs and leans his head back to observe Marion’s nape. “You know, if you were so dehydrated, I’m certain Kalim could have assuaged your plight by making you a personal rain-cloud.”

It takes a while until Marion resurfaces. When he does, rivulets of water jump in shooting-star-leaps over the tips of his ebony hair. He runs a hand through the wet mop. It is considerably less hair than he had when entering Scarabia four days ago; before winter break, his hair was shoulder length and now it is chin length.

Through the stubborn strands that curtain his face, Marion groans , “This place is even hotter than Savanaclaw. Ugh, how is that even possible?”

“Did you not hear my suggestion?”

“Hmm?” Marion has taken to dipping his battered hands into the crystal clear water. The water’s weightlessness feels heavenly,

“I said, why not ask for the help of Kalim’s Unique Magic or perhaps a dip in the oasis?”

It is a relatively easy question to answer, but Marion reflects on the situation. How he had waited until he was sure Grim was dead to the world, stomach full of sleep-inducing food, and double-checked Ace and Deuce’s rooms. Stood outside Scarabia’s vice’s bedroom, trying to listen through the door’s cracks if Jamil’s measured breaths were from real sleep or a facade. Then, a lighthouse yellow eye bloomed in the comfortable dark Marion had been stalking in and Marion allowed him to follow.

The only reason he is able to relax now is because Jade said: (“I slipped something in the tea.”

“You did?” Marion asks, pulling back from the guest room Deuce is slumbering in. “What was it?”

“A heavy sedative. Something from the fungi kingdom that I doubt even Jamil could recognize the taste of. Come, let’s go.”) And that had assured him everyone would be comatose in a deep dream. So, after ignoring it for so long, Marion is able to treat his consistent, four day long heatstroke.

As to the response to Jade’s inquiry, it is: “Didn’t like the idea of taking my eyes off them.”

It had been Grim that texted Ace and Deuce for a rescue; Marion had been opposed firmly. Just as he had been opposed to the help of Azul Ashengrotto and his two, taller shadows.

“Hm,” Jade responds softly. He turns his burning gaze off to the side, towards the nebulous ebon that coats and suctions onto the exterior of Scarabian architecture. “Could’ve asked for my help.”

“Could’ve but didn’t,” Marion agrees as he rises to his feet. Completely ignorant that Jade is vexed.

He has still not taken off his steel-toed boots since this morning and it is now approaching midnight. Physicality rules heavily over sentimentality. An overblot for breakfast and lunch with a party for dinner and dessert. What a painfully busy day.

“Should’ve.” It seems Jade has gotten his fill of appreciating the building designs. Gold and olive-brown try to make an imposing dissect at green eyes but it falls short. It is really hard to ever look at the Ramshackle Prefect with any animosity.

Sand-dollar hued laces are pulled apart as Marion balances his foot on the fountain’s edge. He wiggles his foot out his boot and unfurls his white sock.

“Are you upset or suggesting something for the future? I think the only other hot dorm might be Ignihyde, but it's temperamentally hot and I manage fine there.” It is almost amusing to Jade how sincere that question is – almost. Jade watches as Marion hooks his other foot on the fountain’s edge, undoing the laces. He is just about to answer when Marion gets his left boot off. His white sock is soaked red.

“Huh, odd.”

Jade quirks an eyebrow at Marion’s monotone exclamation – if you could even call it an exclamation. Like two people waiting for the circus’s curtain to rise, they watch in tandem as the sanguinary-dyed sock is removed. Blood sticks to Marion’s thumbs, pulling it off. The sight causes both Marion’s and Jade’s eyes to pulse with interest.

“You know, I concur. Odd.”

“I didn’t even feel anything.”

“I would say that’s incomprehensible, but with your dance battle with Jamil and then the literal one with Ace and Deuce … I have no reason but to believe you.”

“Wonder if it happened because of the stone pillar.”

“Who knows. Wiggle it,” Jade instructs with barely contained, dangerous intrigue.

Marion tries to, but it is fruitless. His big toe is bent to the side with all the harsh angles of a broken stick. The best image to compare it to is the end of a hockey staff, one ridge turn away from being straight. In the red, you can see a tiny, snowy mountain cap of white which is the bone peeking out. The rest of his toes move just fine though.

“No use,” Marion declares, staring at his open fracture. By now, the blood that has not been absorbed into the sock starts to make dimes of red on gold.

With a pat to the fountain, Jade wordlessly instructs Marion to sit. A breath later, he hovers over the protruding wound with his magic pen, getting to work on a healing spell. As violet shimmers and skin rearranges itself, they go quiet with different ordeals on their mind.

It is just odd, the rawest definition of the word, that Jamil’s Unique Magic had not robbed Marion of his sword. Jamil had certainly tried as Marion remembers: “Why don’t you two stay here at Scarabia for winter vacation? Prefect, let me handle your sword; you can relax here.”

Under the hypnotist’s spell, Snake Whisper, he had followed each instruction down to the tiny word of relaxation, but his grip had never faltered from his sword.

I’m not immune to magic or overblots, Ramshackle Prefect thinks as he watches his big toe reverse and mend, but I didn’t once release my sword. If anything, he and his claymore glued themselves together after Jamil’s words for three whole days. Acting completely in reverse of what the magic-laced instruction was.

He treads his right leg back and forth in the fountain’s water, contemplative. It is in the past though, so perhaps it is fine to let it go. He sends a pensive look over his shoulder to his claymore, laying by the fountain, and decides it does not matter anymore. It will never phase him again unless the future calls for it to.

“You run so much hotter than everyone else,” Jade says as he places a hand over Marion’s neck. He knows there are no scent glands in humans but he still possessively lets his own scent diffuse into brown skin. Infects the pore with the sweat of himself, infects the already infected bloodstream.

“Mmmh, you remember when I head-butted Jamil twice during the fight?”

“I recall.”

“I did it because I was so dizzy from the heat. Needed to restart my vision and mind. The first was a test; the second one was intentional.”

“You have such a crude and amusing way of doing things.”

“Thank you. Not sure how you can stand this heat though. I think I’m melting,” Marion whines, leaning into Jade’s embrace.

“Being cold-blooded comes with a particular adaptability.

“How’s the Coral Sea?

“Rather cold and desolate.”

“That sounds great,” Marion moans, enthralled with the idea of pitch black, chilly landscape. “Take me there?”

“One day.”

The conversation lulls and Marion dips his now fixed foot into the fountain. His muscular arms hold the edge of the fountain behind him; the scars on his left arm made from Leona’s Unique Magic stretch with his deep breath. Scars travel down that arm like kintsugi pottery, lightning cracks of sand-hued wounds on a dark canvas.

It is a while of just basking in company before Jade breaks it.

“Why did you not let me or Floyd fight?”

Marion’s eyebrows raise curiously. “During the overblot, you remember, when you kicked both me and Floyd fifty feet away from the fight?” The smile on Jade’s face is predatory and wide, gleaming with all his acute enamels. Ah, that’s vexed!

“Hm, I just felt like I had it in the bag, was too in the moment to need help.”

“Yet you allowed Kalim to assist you,” Jade leans forward, showing more of his teeth.

Is it so bad that he wants to be the only one of the Ramshackle’s arsenal? The first character … the main of the player … selected in the game as Idia would say, right?

Rolling his options on his tongue like a piece of gum, Marion looks up at the squirting arches of the fountain. Water leaps in this beautiful, jetting motion. Everything about this place is a little hypnotic.

“You really want to know?” Jade’s expression gives away the answer clear as day.

Leaning close, he whispers, “you smell the best when you’re fighting for your life. Would’ve distracted me.”

Jade’s heart gives a dangerous lunge in his chest, overjoyed. Smiling, he glides his hand up until he is pinching the chin of the Ramshackle Prefect, puppeting him so his spine has to hunch yet his neck has to tilt up. Such a malleable clay structure for Jade to mold; something he will dip his fingers into only to discover there are blades hidden in the clay like razors in Halloween candy. What a treat, caramel and blood. Waiting to taste just about anything, Jade leans amorous … but —

Marion pulls back. “Nice try,” he congratulates, smiling at the frown on the vice-housewarden’s face.

“Don’t humans kiss at least after a life threatening situation? Even when wired on adrenaline earlier, you stubbornly refused.”

“Not this human. C’mon. I’m cooled down; let’s raid the kitchen.”

There is much more to discuss about Jamil’s overblot; about what is going to happen in the future; about them and their relationship. It is best to be done with petite interludes made by chowing down on some good food.

Ah, he supposes the taste of stolen food might be as appetizing as metaphorical caramel and blood. Marion always knows how to get his attention — the pinnacle distraction for the eel-mer has always been cooking. So, Jade puts his hand in the outstretched, scarred one.

“I’ll try later.”

“I know,” Marion says. He presses a kiss to the wrist of Jade’s hand that was just holding his magic pen and reversing his wound. “Let’s go steal some shit.”

[sidgeno-ficrecs]

this delicate place by @ljummen

sidgeno (2019, explicit, 32.8k) **content notes: mental illness, anxiety attacks, depression, trauma and its aftermath

“Are you?” Taylor asks unexpectedly. “Am I what?” Looking up from the stove, Sid finds her watching him with an odd look on her face. “Happy.” It should be an easy question to answer. Sid has escaped back to Canada after a career ending injury. It doesn’t dawn on him exactly how much early retirement has affected him, until Taylor introduces him to a YouTube channel where a firefighter talks about his own struggles with his mental health.

Hey Geno,

I just watched this video and realized that I’ve had several panic attacks over the course of a few months. I had one a few hours ago. I haven’t experienced anything traumatic, but anxiety (I assume, based on your description in this video) has been sneaking up on me. A week ago, I bought two plants, like you suggested in another video. Today’s panic attack was triggered by me noticing that they were dead (the plants, I mean).

I feel stupid for reacting to something so trivial. I haven’t watched that many of your videos, but from what I understood, you actually experienced something bad. So why am I broken for no reason?

this is a hard time of year.

it's dark, it's cold (if you're in the northern hemisphere), and for me at least, it always seems like the post-holiday winter stretch is when bad things happen. it's easy to get lost in your own head and spend hours dwelling on what's gone wrong, or what might go wrong, and get stuck in a negative feedback loop that can be so, so hard to break out of.

i've mentioned before that i don't love fics that diagnose sid (or geno, but it's usually sid) with certain neurodivergencies because in my experience it leads to people talking about him like he actually has x or y and it makes me uncomfortable, but i re-read this fic last night because i've been feeling down recently and i think it deserves a moment in the spotlight.

this story is a very raw, honest look at what it can be like to deal with depression and anxiety, from the perspective of someone who never has before and doesn't know what's going on and needs an extra push to see what's happening and get help.

depression is a lonely, isolating experience, and that's part of what makes it so dangerous. it's so easy to not notice that you're withdrawing and losing yourself until it's almost too much to climb out of, and on top of all that you've lost all motivation to take steps to get better. it's a vicious, evil little trick the brain can play on you, and @ljummen walks us through sidney's experience with it with care, honesty, and compassion.

this fic made me feel seen. it can be hard to read—sid has panic attacks and we as readers experience them right along with him, along with the other symptoms of depression—but if you're in a space where reading about it won't make you feel worse or trigger anything, i really recommend it. we see sid struggle, we see him be in denial of what he's dealing with—what does he have to be depressed over, after all? what trauma does he have to deal with?—and, crucially, we see him turn a corner and start to get better.

i think that's the magic of this story. sid manages to step outside of the black pit he's stuck in long enough to take steps to get help, and he meets someone who knows him and understands what he's going through, and they fall in love despite the obstacles in their way. it's a story about someone whose life isn't going the way they thought it would, but who manages to see that's not necessarily the end of the world, and for me at least reading this story gave me comfort and hope.

yes, it can be dark at times. life can be hard, so hard that it seems easier to just go back to bed and try and wait it out. but you also might meet someone who sees you, and knows you, and is there for you, and who you can see and know and support in return. there's light out there, if you can peek outside the curtain to look for it.

i hope you're all taking care of yourselves. be gentle with your own mind if you've been having a difficult time. reach out to the people who love you—they want to be there for you, even if you're hearing that little voice that says you're just a burden.

and if you're up to it, read this story, which will hopefully provide you a little comfort and escape and hope, like it does for me when i'm having bad days.

read it here on ao3!

and don't forget to leave a comment!

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 18 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: everything you need to know about the woman with no name.

words: 6.4k

chapter warning: heavy chapter warnings for s-lf h-rm/ s--cide. Read at your own risk.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, wh-mp. hurt/comfort. s-xu-l situations. spousal ab-se. family trauma. dr-g use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you never laid awake at night in a cold sweat, afraid the FBI was going to break down your door because you downloaded a Metallica song on Kaazaa, then well, wait was it just me? oh. okay then. minors dni.

Back to Part 17.

Part 18

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5),1 defines dissociation as a disruption, interruption, and/or discontinuity of the normal, subjective integration of behavior, memory, identity, consciousness, emotion, perception, body representation, and motor control.

This was another dream.

She was dreaming again.

The DSM-5 dissociative disorders (DD) are:

Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID);

Dissociative Amnesia (DA);*

Depersonalization/Derealization Disorder (DPDRD);

Other Specified Dissociative Disorders (OSDD);

Unspecified Dissociative Disorder (UDD).

She was having an out-of-body experience. Like astral projection. Everything she saw through her own eyes were the actions of someone she was ghosting over. 

Her life wasn’t happening to her. 

She was dreaming. 

Having a really bad dream.

*In DSM-5 Dissociative Fugue (DF) is now a subtype of Dissociative Amnesia (DA), and not a separate disorder.

That’s what she kept telling herself.

This is a nightmare. It’s only a nightmare.

This is a nightmare.

This can’t be happening. Can’t be real.

The DSM-5 diagnostic criteria for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) now include a Dissociative Subtype (PTSD-DS). Dissociative amnesia as a symptom is a diagnostic criterion for both DID and for PTSD. Criteria for PTSD-DS are that reminders of the PTSD Criterion: A traumatic stressor lead to depersonalization/derealization symptoms. In DSM-5, the DD section is specifically placed after the Trauma-and-Stressor Related Disorders to show their relationship to traumatic experiences. 1

She was calm.

Heart steady.

She wasn’t sweating this time. Wasn’t pissing herself.

Why would she? This was all a dream.

A strange dream—with John and Peter looking at her like she was a sight for sore eyes. They both wore a smirk. Both of them sharing a secret.

And Felicia was there. And Eddie was there. Johnny Storm, too. Miguel was there—magically reanimated.

What a strange dream. Who else was going to make an appearance? Jesus? Her third-grade teacher? Tod?

None of that really mattered, though. Nothing really mattered. So much so, she wouldn’t even remember what happened next.

How surprising was it, then, to wake up standing in the middle of Peter’s office. Felicia and Eddie lingered near the doorway. Peter stood across from her, eyes wide and alert. 

He was speaking to her. Muddled words. It really looked like she should be listening. 

But how did she get here?

Oh well. It didn’t matter.

This is a dream. Nothing can hurt you in a dream. Even if you die, you don’t really die. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was fine.

Her fingers were cold, though, wrapped around cold metal. Black as night. She was holding a gun. How strange.

Peter was standing at the barrel end of it. The pistol that had been hidden in his desk. Her finger was on the trigger. Hand shaking.

“Honey,” Peter's voice echoed against her eardrum. He sounded far away. He sounded like he was inside her head.  “Please, just talk to me.”

Suddenly, she was awake. 

Her heart sped up, eyes focusing sharply as the color drained from them, swallowed up by the black holes of her pupils. She took deep breaths through flared nostrils. Cold perspiration trickled down the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. 

She stood with her back to the office windows. Blinding daylight drenching the horrified expressions of the people surrounding her. Boxing her in. Closing a gap around her. Locking her into a trap.

That wasn’t going to work. She had the key in her hands. She had the key to it all.

“Honey,” Peter repeated, his voice featherlike yet full of terror. He fixed her with wide eyes, hands up at his shoulders to placate her. He inched closer.

“Stay back!” she barked, eyes feral. She suddenly noticed the tears on her face. Goddamn it, she’s crying again. When did that happen?

“It’s me, baby,” Peter cooed at her. “Jus’ me—”

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice cracking with the force of thunder. It was a wretched, vicious sound. “Who the fuck are you, really?” 

He blinked in confusion, reeling in a step backward. Too far to reach for her. Her eyes darted frantically, searching the faces of Felicia and Eddie. Searching for danger. Searching for safety. Searching for any way out. 

John wasn’t in the room. He could be hiding around the corner for all she knew. Hiding in her closet or under her bed.

Her lower lip wobbled. There wasn’t a way out. 

Her heart wrenched in her chest. “Why did you pick me?” she desperately whimpered, returning to Peter. “Why are you doing this to me?” 

Her voice was small and fragile, like a sugar glass figurine. Blinking rapidly, he furrowed his eyebrows, staring at her in confusion. 

“Okay, Honeybun,” Felicia chimed in, singsong. “Let’s all just calm down, shall we?”

Honey jerked her arm, pointing the gun at Felicia. She shrieked, jabbing her with each word, “I wasn’t talking to you, you lying bitch!”

Felicia raised one of her brows and muttered barely above her breath, “Not with that tone, you’re not…”

“Cat,” she heard Peter gently admonish, a warning in his tone. 

Slowly, he took another step towards the gun, mapping the distance between him and the bullet's path. Honey responded to the subtle movement like the cracking of a whip. In an instant, she was back on him, her watery glare and shaky aim directed at his chest.

“Is Miles in on this too?” she wept breathlessly, rage filling her lungs and suffocating any sense of trust. “Is Bella already dead? Did you fucking hurt her? Tell me the goddamn truth, Peter!”

Peter shook his head, exasperated. “What—I-I don’t—what are you—?”

She cut his sentence short. “I saw what you did to that woman!”

Peter froze. Eyes wide, lips parting.

Fury surged through her, bulging her veins and twitching her muscles. 

“You asshole—you fucking tell me that you love me, that there’s no one else, and you had that fucking stripper-whore all over you!” 

His jaw locked, eyes filling with remorse. Voice dropped to a whisper. “I can explain—”

“And then you murdered her!” she spat, words burning like acid. “You mutilated her! You fucking monster!” 

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Sharp crimson splatters and deep umber stains replaced it like frames of a snuff film on celluloid.

“Dumped her body like a used condom, you motherfucker!” 

He lifted his chin, shame shadowing his face. His expression was as good as a confession in her eyes. 

“Is that what you were gonna do to me?” she hotly demanded.

Peter grimaced at the question like she’d already fired the bullet. Finally, desperation overtook him as he opened his mouth to speak.

Eddie blurted out, “That ain't how it happened—”

Peter shot a warning glare over at him, face turning pale. Eddie bit his tongue, but the damage was done. Angry eyes were now fixed on him, their black holes threatening to tear them all apart. 

“You knew about this?” she hissed, horror spreading across her face. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?” She was vibrating with self-righteous rage, her features melting into a vicious sob.

Eddie buttoned up his lips, helpless against her betrayed expression.

Jaw agape, Felicia shot a frustrated glare at both men. “Jesus Christ.”

“I know what it looks like,” Peter cut in, desperate to regain her attention and refocus her wrath on him alone. “But he’s tellin’ the truth, okay? You’re right, you're right, but that’s not how it went down. I swear it, I-I don’t remember—I-I didn’t even know what happened—”

“You know everything, Peter, you always know everything!” the heartbroken woman sneered lividly, mocking him. “You know everything about me, doncha? What’d he tell you? Huh? Did you already know I was married?”

The room fell silent. Peter gazed at her, a crease painted between his brows. He glanced at Felicia, who mirrored his expression, before turning back. “I… didn’t.” 

“You didn’t, huh?” she seethed, her anger simmering with anguish and shame. “You couldn’t find the marriage certificate? You wanna know why?” 

He stared at her, blinking. Jaw opening and closing. 

“Because I forged my sister’s signature and stole the savings in her bank account! I used it to pay off an old creep at the county clerk’s office!” She hissed with a twisted mouth, as if the words tasted rancid on her tongue, “Five grand and a blow job were all it took to erase the shittiest mistake of my life.”

Peter stared with eyes like saucers. Despite his desperate attempt to keep his face neutral, he reflected silent shock.

“I was high when I met John,” Honey added, her voice trembling. This time, she leveled her contempt toward Eddie. “Did he tell you that, too?” She pictured every sentence as a knife wound. Each punctuation was a twist of the blade. 

“Stole two of my mom’s Xanaxs,” she hiccuped, swallowing her sobs in an effort to force out the words. “Let him fuck me in the back seat of his car with a camera in my face. He came in my mouth, and I cried on camera, and I told him I wanted to kill myself and asked him to murder my mother.” 

The words spilled out of her in a frantic blather, vile puss spewing from old wounds. “I used to sneak into the kitchen at night, turn on the gas, and think about blowing up my family. Me. My little sisters. I didn’t care! Did he tell you about that?!”

Peter’s eyes shimmered with tears. Opening his mouth felt like prying apart steel. Despite that, he kept his words gentle. “Honey. Whatever happened, we can talk it out—”

She blurted out a livid laugh, hot tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, you wanna talk to me?” She pointed her finger, jabbing it at the doorway. “Talk to him!” Felicia and Eddie glanced at the door, both of them perplexed. “Let him tell you how he used to get drunk and pass me around to all his friends like a fucking Fleshlight!” 

Peter flinched at the noise her voice made, cracking like glass. Her lip wobbled as she fixed him with giant, horrified eyes. She looked as if a sudden realization struck her.

“Is that what you were gonna do to me?” she cried in a tiny voice. “Were you two gonna share me after you fucked with me? Was that the plan all along?”

His face was clouded with bewildered horror. 

Conversely, her vision was crystal-clear. Everything suddenly made sense to her. She didn’t know how he did it, but she knew. 

John and Peter were working together. They were always working together. She had never escaped either of them.

John knew where her apartment was. Peter did too.

John was waiting outside of her mother’s home. Peter was waiting inside.

Peter kidnapped her whole family. He held Bella hostage. John knew where to find them.

John had pictures of Bella. He had pictures of Gabriella. 

Peter had pictures of her, too.

John was Peter. Peter was John.

She was stupid. Stupid, stupid girl.

“Nothing is free!” she was muttering aimlessly, babbling without realizing it. Giant sobs racked through her. “Nothing is safe! Can’t trust anyone—they’ll do anything they need to to survive. That’s what I did! I survived!” 

“Please,” Peter’s voice cut through, recapturing her attention. “Please, please, baby.” His eyes shimmered with desperation. “You got this all wrong. I don’t know—I-I-I never meant to hurt you like this. I swear.”

She shook her head, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. “Were you lying to me about Gwen, too, you fucking bastard? She didn’t fall, did she?”

“Honey—”

“Did she?!”

“She jumped!” Peter yelped, his heart shattering as the words escaped his throat.

The gasp that followed seemed to reverberate off the walls. It was as if every sound in New York went quiet. A blaring, piercing silence that made eardrums ache. Peter looked devastated, on the verge of collapse. She settled her stern gaze on him, watching his face crumple. He brought his hands up through his hair, tugging his scalp hard enough to tear. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming.

Gobsmacked stares from the other side of the room confirmed that this was a piece of information that no one had. 

Looking stoic and shattered, he sucked a big breath in and out, keeping his jaw firm. Wiped at his nose. Dug his fingers into his hips. 

“I didn’t want this life for her,” he finally muttered, silent tears flowing. “She was a smart woman. Smarter than me. She was supposed to do something—something amazing with her life. She wanted to help people.” He swallowed hard, apparitions playing in his gaze. “The fear. The violence. It took a toll. She tucked it away inside. Never let it show.”

He gulped, running a hand down his face to clear his watery eyes. “They, uh, came after us, and-and she killed someone. She had to. I tried to tell her that but... she never was the same. Somethin’… somethin’ ate her alive. From the inside out.” 

His brows furrowed, heartache seizing his expression. “I didn’t see it.” He sounded like a wounded animal. In many ways, he was. “I didn’t see what it was doing to her. Not until it was too late.”

He went quiet. The tears that rimmed his eyes flowed free. He marinated in agony and self-resentment. His voice was calm with resolve. 

“I destroyed her,” he said. “And I’ll never forgive myself for that.” He lifted his heavy eyes. “I don’t know how else to say it to you. But I’d rather die before I let that happen again. So if you’re gonna shoot one of us, shoot me.” They locked gazes with each other, his eyes swelling with tears. “I’ve had it comin’ for a long time.”

Her arm was beginning to shake from the weight of the weapon. 

His doe eyes fixed on her. She couldn’t read them anymore. Too afraid of the next chapter. Too weary for the following sentence.

But none of that mattered anymore. Because this was all just a dream.

“Maybe she had the right idea,” Honey whispered, her lip wobbling. She closed her eyes. Put the gun to her own head.

The sound of the gunshot deafened her, swallowed up by an unholy roar. 

She didn’t expect the falling sensation. She was expecting pain—maybe. She was expecting a tunnel or a big white light. Or maybe for it all to go pitch black. Maybe she was expecting nothing at all.

But she was falling backward unexpectedly. The gun tumbled from her reach. Tentacles wrapped around her arms, oily, cold, and slick. Like a primordial monster out of the ocean depths. 

They encircled her entire body. Constricting around her waist. Wrapped around her throat. Locking her ankles in place. 

When she looked up, Hell wasn’t what she expected. She didn’t expect the Devil to have oozing, inky, onyx flesh. Or dead white eyes that wrapped around its skull. She expected horns. But not a mouth the size of a Great White’s with twice as many teeth.

Certainly, not that tongue. Twisting. Dripping. Like a black serpent slithering from his mouth.

“Pete, no!” 

Eddie was here too. How did Eddie get here? 

Then, she felt the pain.

The still-healing crack in her bone buckled as her ribcage was compressed. She thought her pelvis would be next as the tentacle's heavy, crushing, constricting force closed around her hips and waist. Another thick mass squeezed her throat. The air was being forced from her lungs as the ooze gripped tighter.

“What the fuck is that?”

Felicia. She sounded surprised. She sounded terrified. 

Honey was terrified too. Opened her mouth wide to scream. But she couldn’t. No air. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was gaze up at that horrifying Cheshire smile as it grew wider. The monster loomed larger. It was getting bigger. Towering over her.

It would be over soon, she hoped. 

“Pete!” Eddie again. 

This time, the beast let go.

She was tossed backward, flung through the air, landing hard against the side of the desk. After taking a deep, painful gasp, she fine-tuned her attention to what was happening in real-time.

A steel blade glinted in Felicia’s hand as she buried it deep into the black tentacle of the monster beneath her. 

Miguel was in the room now, keeping himself from being dragged off by the creature with repeated jabs into its flesh. He flexed his wrist, and a set of razor-sharp blades, curved like talons, retracted from a device mounted on his forearm. He hit the monster with the spines of his arm guard, causing it to cry out with a shrieking squelch.

The real damage was done by Eddie. He held a pressurized canister of dust cleaner in one hand and a lighter in the other. Igniting a spark turned the spray into a blow torch. A column of fire shot out, lashing at the monster’s body. It shrank backward, retracting its shape.

“The window!” Eddie shouted, his voice nearly lost in the creature’s shrieks. “Felicia, take out the window!”

Gunshots rang out. Honey covered her ears as glass rained down into a crashing cascade. The monster screamed with a noise similar to nails on a chalkboard as cold air rushed into the office. 

In a moment, everything was silent. The monster vanished. 

And so had Peter.

An hour had passed. The great room was eerily silent, even with the gang gathered there.

John was in the wind, having slithered away. Johnny Storm had been escorting him to the garage just as Honey was retrieving Peter’s gun. Walker was gone before anyone knew what was happening.

Honey gazed down at a wound on her right thigh—a scrape from being tossed across Peter’s office. The ring in her ears from the gunshot was only now fading. Her head was throbbing. Although if Peter had been a quarter-second later knocking the weapon away, there’d be a hole in it. 

Whatever healing her rib had accomplished had likely been undone by the desk. Or the—fuck, is tentacles even the right word?—the fierce grip of the monster. 

Whatever healing she had accomplished was undone. All of it, out the window. Whisked away with the monster living inside of Peter.

Which the Spider family had now seen. 

Once her sense of hearing had returned, Honey tuned in to the conversation again.

They had questions for her. They had questions in general, minds swirling with confusion and doubt. They were squabbling over facts, terrified by truths they weren’t ready for. Everyone, except Eddie, holding a solemn gaze on the windows outside. 

Felicia was beyond questioning and had progressed to action. She paced the floor in the room, eyes firm. It wasn’t a nervous tick, although fear was not an inappropriate response. Instead, she looked more like a general strategizing in the war room. 

That’s precisely what this was—a war. Honey could see that now—with secrets, spies, and death. Everyone was a casualty. The lines were blurred.

Even amongst Peter’s team.

Johnny sat on one side of the sectional with a pout on his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. “Wait, none of you were going to tell me that he was a psycho?” he protested. “Christ, I walked that guy to his car! I could’ve been killed!”

Miguel held an ice pack to the welt on his face. His response was colder. “Clearly, we were worried sick.”

Disgusted, Johnny whined, “You all left me out of your plan!”

“You’re not the only one,” Eddie muttered bitterly, staring at the black sky.

Felicia spun on her heel, facing the beefy hothead. “Johnny,” she began calmly, “I appreciate that this has been a real challenge for you. It’s been hard on all of us. And I want to be able to address your concerns. But for now? Do me a favor. Put a pin in it. And Shut. The Fuck. Up.”

Her raised voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling. With a scowl, Johnny wedged himself back further into the sofa. But he was silent.

Felicia turned her ire towards Eddie. “And you’ve got a lotta nerve bitching about secrets, Brock. You and Pete left out a couple of crucial details about Vegas.”

“Look, we can point fingers later,” Miguel sighed, agitated. He slapped the ice pack on the sofa cushions next to him. “Right now, we have bigger problems.” He fixed Honey with a stern gaze. “You’re the one who's been in communication with him. What can you tell us?”

Honey glared up at him coldly from beneath the fringe of her lashes. Didn’t bother to move her head or her slouched position in the armchair. “His name is John Walker,” she glowered. “He’s a Leo. And a vegetarian.”

Miguel’s lips straightened into a line. “Preferably something useful.”

“He’s a Fed and an asshole.”

Miguel huffed sardonically, “Okay, then. Something we don’t already know.”

Eyes flashing red, she hissed, “If you knew anything, you would know not to fuck with him!” Now sitting up in the chair, her vicious bite gave him pause. “He’s the devil,” she said. “He’s ten times worse than anything you’ve come up against.”

“I highly doubt that,” Miguel scoffed.

“You think this is a joke?” she snapped back, seething. “I’ve watched him destroy lives. Not just end them—destroy! The more violent, the better. He’s a cancer. He’s everywhere. He’s inside everything. He’s the man behind the curtain. The monster at the end of the book.” She fixed them with a grave expression, full of bitter resentment. “And one way or another, he always wins.”

Miguel shook his head with a sigh. “Look, no disrespect to what you’ve gone through, but you’re not—”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about what I’ve gone through!” Her voice snapped like a whip, crashing like thunder. Miguel’s mouth snapped shut. “If you did,” she spitefully said, “if you knew what he was—you wouldn’t breathe the same air as him, let alone work with him!”

Felicia stepped into her field of vision, fixing her with a firm gaze. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice low and calm. “We are not with him. Never were. I need you to understand that right now.”

Honey blinked up at her skeptically, the corners of her mouth downturned.

“We were never against you,” Felicia explained, lips tight. She downcasted her eyes with a bitter scowl. “He came to us about the same time you did. We knew ‘Steve Rogers’ was a sham. The social security number on his accounts belonged to a real Steve Rogers, who died in 1945.” Honey’s brow furrowed curiously. Felicia continued, “Figured he was a Fed, but we couldn’t crack his identity. Whoever hid him hid him well. We knew he was important. That he wanted to help us. And he was lying to us. That’s all we knew.”

Honey glanced down, her tear-laden eyes suddenly heavy.

“I promise you,” Felicia declared, her steel gaze locking onto Honey’s. Her words were weighed with sincerity. “We didn’t know how you were connected.” A moment passed. Her face fell somber, eyes going cold, “Or why you were working for him.”

Honey stared at her, offended. “You say it like I had a choice!”

“Let’s hear it, then.” Felicia threw her hands up with a ‘come here’ gesture. “Why did you agree to help him?”

Her eyes narrowed defensively. “Because,” she answered with a razor-sharp edge, “if I said ‘no,’ he would’ve murdered everyone I ever cared about. So. I said ‘yes.’” 

It was a simple enough answer, and Honey tossed it at her as such. The two women held an uncomfortable stare for several breaths. It was difficult for Honey to accept that this was Felicia whom she was skewering with her gaze, and the realization only made her heart sink further.

Honey’s face softened as her guilt settled in. “He had pictures of Bella. Peter said that he’d protect her, but that was a lie. It was never possible. Not when John’s involved.”

Miguel gazed at Honey, disappointed. “That’s not true,” he softly replied. “Peter wouldn’na let anything happen.”

Felicia shuffled her feet and continued to pace again. “Evidently not,” she muttered scornfully, “considering what we just saw.”

Miguel scowled at her. “We’re talking about Peter here!”

“Go suck his dick, then!” she cracked back like thunder. Miguel pulled his chin back as she jabbed her manicured finger towards him. “Letting a Fed into our backyard was your stupid idea,” she growled as she leveled her cold gaze, “and Peter was an idiot for agreeing to it! If you’d both listened to me, this Walker creep would have a bullet in his head already! And instead of dealing with that mistake right now, we have to focus on finding Peter and... killing whatever that thing is that’s got ‘em!”

“It’s not that easy,” Eddie replied, his back towards the group. “M’not even sure it can be killed.”

“What do you mean by it?” Honey looked over at him, wide-eyed. “Isn’t this about the drugs? The stuff he shoots up with?”

“Pete’s on drugs?” Johnny exclaimed, further irritated. “Whatthefu–are we Breaking Bad now?!”

“It’s not a drug,” Eddie said. A graveness weighed heavily on his voice. “It’s not... easy to explain.” 

Felicia gritted her teeth. “Try.” 

He looked at her over his shoulder, finally turning to face them. “It’s— it’s a living organism. A symbiote. Gets inside you and holds on. Like a parasite.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “We call it ‘Venom.’”

“Where the hell did that thing come from?” Johnny asked, eyes wide.

Eddie cast his gaze towards the floor. “From me.” 

The room fell silent for a moment. 

The gruff man tightened his lip, clearing his throat. “Pete helped me contain it,” he explained. “He studied it. And we thought... we thought we could use it to our advantage.”

“How exactly is turning into a giant squid helping our cause?” Miguel asked snidely. 

“It feeds off of you—yeah, but it also makes you stronger,” Eddie said. “Makes you practically invincible. Makes everything better—gives you abilities you couldn’t imagine.” He sighed, then added thoughtfully, “If any of us was gonna take a bullet, Pete wanted it to be him. ”

“Yeah,” Felicia groaned skeptically, “That sounds like our boy. But I’m not sure ‘better’ is the word I’d use to describe it.”

He swallowed hard, bitter remorse returning to his eyes. “It doesn’t have the same effect on everybody,” he explained. “Everybody’s different. The way it responded to Pete was... different. His body was adapting to it too quickly. Kept needing more, using more. Sometimes... Sometimes he’d black out. It would take over, and he wouldn’t remember a thing.” 

Eddie turned his attention to Honey. “That’s what happened in Vegas. The woman you saw was hired to kill him. Almost did. Ran him through with a sword. Then It took over. She never stood a chance.” 

Honey glanced down, biting her lip as she contemplated the information. 

Eddie turned his attention to the others. “That’ll happen to all of us if we’re not careful,” he warned. 

Miguel said thoughtfully, apprehensive eyes fixed on Eddie, “You keep talking about this thing like it has a consciousness. Does it?”

“It has a mind of its own,” he answered. “It takes all your thoughts and scrambles them. Implants its own. Pete’s not in the driver’s seat anymore. And Venom will kill us if we get too close.”

“Not all of us,” Felicia said, gears turning. Honey followed her voice to see the silver-haired woman’s gaze fixed on her. “It kept her from shooting herself,” she said. “Maybe Pete was the one in control. Maybe he can stop It from killing her.”

Honey’s eyes bugged out of her skull.

Miguel was already thinking the same thing. “If we find Peter, we can use her to snap him out of this. Get him somewhere safe and—uh... ? Detox him? Exorcize him—whatever, I don’t know—find a way to get that thing out.”

“Bait?” Honey exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?!” She shot a glare at Felicia. “You can’t be serious—”

“It’s not the best plan, but it’s what I’ve got,” Felicia replied, holding up her hand to silence any protests. Her tone was cold. “And considering this is your mess, too, I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

Honey blinked up at her, stunned. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I’m mad,” she said with an eerie calm. “Not because you lied. I don’t care that you kept secrets from us. I can even understand why you did what you did.” Her somber expression gave way to bitter anger. “But you put a gun to my friend’s head,” she said through gritted teeth. “And that I can’t abide.”

Honey blinked up at her several times, her jaw agape. The image of Peter’s desperate expression as she pointed the gun at him echoed in her mind, filling her with shame. “I-I don’t think I would’ve actually shot him,” she murmured, more of a whimper than a statement. “I-I’ve never fired a gun before—I don’t even know where the safety is!”

Johnny raised a finger, offering his two cents. “Guns like that don’t have a safety.” He was ignored. 

A hard crease had formed between Felicia’s eyebrows as she glared down at Honey, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m not talking about him,” Felicia glowered.

Honey blinked again, pursing her lips shut. Then, reading her stern expression, confronting the betrayed look in her eyes. 

Felicia didn’t have many friends, that was certain. But she had counted Honey as one of them. And with the same fierce protectiveness that she used to defend her, she also used to admonish her. 

Buttoning up her emotions, Felicia turned to the others, “Alright, we can't afford to look vulnerable right now. We keep this quiet to everyone that’s not a Spider.” She looked at Miguel, Johnny, and Eddie. “We need to spread out. Cover all the ground we can until we find Peter. Eddie and Honey, you’re with me. Everyone, keep your eyes open. Not just for Peter but for our enemies. Feds included.”

Honey gasped, a terrifying thought crossing her mind. “Miles,” she said with alarm.

Felicia went still. “What about Miles?”

Honey glanced up at her, only taking a split second to decide. “John threatened to go after him,” she explained urgently. “He’s in danger.” 

Felicia rolled her eyes, growling, “Fuck me! You shoulda led with that!”

Johnny leaped to his feet. “Don’t worry, I’m on it.”

Felicia said to Honey and Eddie. “Let’s go.”

Honey came to a careful stand. Eddie joined her side. “Where are we goin’?”

“Empire State Building,” Felicia grimly replied. 

The first time Honey had been to the Empire State Building was on a class field trip. She remembered experiencing overwhelming vertigo from the sidewalk, one that almost kept her from being able to go up the elevator. She was equally unsettled now as she looked up at the orange sky. 

Eddie stood beside her on the sidewalk, both in the glow of a convenience store. He was less interested in the building and more interested in lighting his cigarette. Felicia wasn’t present, having instructed them to wait for her.

“Did you know it only took, like, 400-something days to build?” Honey said.

Eddie glanced over only briefly, uninterested. “You don’t say.”

She looked over at him incredulously. “So you’re mad at me, too?”

“Why’d you do it?” Eddie asked, tossing out all pretense.

Honey pressed her lips in a line and returned her gaze to the sky. “I told you,” she said. “He threatened—”

“I’m not talkin’ about your ex,” Eddie argued. “I mean, what you did back at the office. Why’d you put the gun to your head?”

Honey didn’t have an answer for that. “So, you are mad.”

He bristled, stewing in his frustration. “Didn’t say that,” he muttered, then took a long drag from his cigarette. “It wasn’t the smartest move.”

She let out a long sigh, an edge of sarcasm in her voice, “You know, I looked inside my bag of ‘good ideas,’ and as it turns out—it was empty. Just like my bag of ‘fucks to give.’”

Eddie blew the smoke out of his lungs. “That doesn’t sound like you. ‘Specially after what Pete told you about how his girl died.”

“I never said I was a good person, Eddie,” she remarked with a clipped tone. “You want to judge me, that’s fine.” 

“I’m not speaking from the point of judgment,” Eddie replied quietly. “I’m speaking from experience.” She turned to him curiously. He took another long drag. “That’s how I met Pete, y’know?”

She stayed silent, shaking her head, ‘no.’ He shoved his free hand in the pocket of a far-too-thin hoodie for the weather. 

“Yep,” he sighed, avoiding meeting her gaze. “You’re not the only one that ran out of good ideas.”

Her head tilted at the admission, eyes softening. Idly, he scratched the scruff on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. He fidgeted in a way that reminded her of Peter. 

“It was a couple of years ago, actually,” Eddie explained, only glancing up briefly. “I used to be a reporter back in San Francisco. I was covering this shady corporation— pretty sure I was about to expose them for illegal human testing. Instead, I, uh...well... Venom found me.”

His eyes darkened, shadows falling across his face. She stayed quiet.

“It was, uhm... rough,” he continued. “I couldn’t control it. Then the company I was investigating accused me of stealing their ‘property.’ I was trying everything I could to get rid of it. Lost everything. My job. Apartment. Girlfriend. Came here to start over, but... I pissed off the big guys in Silicon Valley. You don’t start over from that. They made sure of it.”

He paused, tensing with wet eyes. Sucked another breath through his cigarette, then continued. “I was angry,” he snarled under his breath. “Not just at them. Not even at the Symbiote. I was angry at me... for getting into this mess in the first place.”

The words slowed down, almost getting lost in his thoughts. “I got low. Decided that I didn’t care, either. All that mattered was killing this thing. Even if it killed me first.”

He stared at the passing cars with calm, haunted eyes. By contrast, she was shocked.

“Pete stopped me,” he said. “He saved me.” The fading sunlight reflected a shimmer in his gaze. “He’s the only one that tried to help me. He’s the only one that ever understood that this thing—Venom— it’s a gift and a curse. ‘Oppenheimer’s Genie,’ he called it.” A brief smile crossed his lips before it faded into his memories. “He’s the only one that understood the burden and wanted to help me carry it.”

She gulped hard as a burning sensation piled up behind her eyes. Her jaw tensed as she tried to blink the moisture away.

“When I met him, I didn’t realize that, of course,” Eddie added. “He had to knock my ass out. Carry me fireman-style out of a belltower.” A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed it down. “He coulda just let me die. I’ve never understood why Peter would go out of his way to save me. Until today.”

She stayed silent, although her heart ached so much she was confident the throb was audible. The pain she felt for him shimmered in her eyes.

“Nobody that tries to do the right thing is a bad person,” Eddie said, glancing over at her. “You’re not a bad person.” 

His soft words felt like a knife to her heart, cutting open the thick muscle walled up around it. Tears welled up in her eyes. She fought the urge to collapse into a pile on the sidewalk.

“I know it seems like sometimes the world wants you to be your worst,” Eddie added. “Sometimes, you want to be your worst. I get that too. You think it’s easier that way to deal with all the bad shit that’s happened to you. As if it can make you immune.” He turned to face her, and for a moment, she felt like they were in their own little world. A snow globe amongst the chaos.

“Stop trying to be whoever you’re pretending to be,” he concluded thoughtfully. He put the cigarette up to his lips, taking a final draw. “Accept who you are, and work with that.” 

He fell silent, taking in the sounds and sights of the city at twilight. She stared up at him with her lips pursed and her heart aching. Her first impression of Eddie was amusing to her in retrospect—the stoner-loner with a mouth full of cupcake— and now he had proven himself to be one of the wisest people she’d ever met.

They turned their attention towards Felicia as she jogged up to them breathlessly. Her look of barely-concealed dread told them what she had confirmed. “He’s not here,” she sighed in frustration. “Christ - do we really have to comb through every landmark that this pathetic emo boy could possibly mope on? We’ll be out here for days—”

“Why were you in a bell tower?” Honey asked Eddie. Both he and Felicia looked baffled by her question.

Eddie’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“You said you wanted to get rid of it,” Honey explained, “and you were in a bell tower? Why there?”

Eddie shrugged, “It doesn’t seem to like loud noises very much. Thought I could kill it.”

Honey gazed at him, her mind spinning as she plugged in pieces. “That’s what his plan is.”

“What?”

“Maybe Peter is in control,” she explained, turning to Felicia. “Maybe he’s trying to find a way to kill the Symbiote.”

Eddie shook his head, stunned at the foolishness of such a plan. “So, what, you’re saying he’s banging his head against a giant bell somewhere?”

Felicia’s eyes widened, before they rolled into the back of her head with frustration. “Shit.” The two of them turned to her worriedly. “I know exactly where he is.”

Continue to Part 19

[back to masterlist]

A/N Thank you for your patience on this update everyone! We are in the home stretch. The next two chapters will feature almost everything you've been waiting for. :-)

To be tagged when they release, you must reblog so I can keep track of all 100+ of you!

[shinxeysartgallery]

The Murder Drones brain worms got me in a chokehold rn

Anyway, I got thinking about the Solver again. Ever since Episode 2, it's been established that the Solver is capable of creating flesh out of seemingly nothing. And we also know since Episode 1 that Disassembly Drones (as well as Workers with the Solver) can regenerate any wounds inflicted on them as long as there's sufficient material for it to use.

The latter seems to imply that it's still abiding by the Laws of the Conservation of Matter - matter cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed. Makes sense; it took the materials in the area and transformed them into new body parts to repair damage. Nothing was created or destroyed in that regard. But then what about the flesh?

Episode 7 gave some interesting implications regarding that. We got to see a flashback where the Disassembly Drones were deployed to hunt down and devour humanity, even getting a little scene of V ripping off and swallowing some poor sap's arm and N drinking the blood out of some dude's neck. But here's the thing about that: those two particular humans that were explicitly shown being eaten obviously weren't the only ones that were killed and eaten by them. Much like with all living things, there's only so much room for food inside the body, which also applies to the Drones. Since they're robots, they obviously can't digest it or go shit it out later when they get full like a human or animal can, so where did all the blood and flesh they ate go?

In Episode 2, we see J's core teleport away in a black hole after N stabs it several times with his tail. We've also seen other instances of the Solver being able to teleport or open black holes/wormholes. We also know that all Disassembly Drones have a core like that inside of their bodies. Both Episode 2 and Episode 7 confirmed that the cores can act independently from its host body and still possess Solver abilities. So my theory is that their cores were teleporting the flesh and blood somewhere as it entered the Drones' bodies. Where exactly? It's hard to say, but likely to wherever the source of the Solver is. No, not Cyn, but whatever it was that originally possessed her. She was Patient Zero, but the Solver clearly existed before she woke up in the dumpster. Whatever its source is, that's likely where everything went. If it's still abiding by that scientific law mentioned before, then it explains how it's seemingly able to create it out of nothing - it's not; it's basically moving it from one place to another through use of wormhole magic when its powers are invoked. This also explains how the Disassembly Drones were able to consume what seemed to be an infinite amount of humans without them ever getting full.

(We know its very existence and its other behaviors still break several scientific laws, so this might be a moot point, but it's still interesting to think about!)

It also gives some more interesting implications to Cyn's comment about being hungry before jumping into the giant flesh pit to the center of the planet. Maybe the stuff was being teleported directly to the entity's stomach? And if that's the case, then that's maybe why the portals it makes are so fleshy? It's basically ripping a hole into the entity's stomach that's already full of flesh and blood from its previous kills.

Also as a side note, Episode 1 established that Disassembly Drones require them to drink oil every so often to keep from overheating - a symptom that also exists in Worker Drones with the Solver. We saw in Episode 4 that when Uzi used her Solver powers too much, she began to overheat and go a bit crazy until she was able to consume some oil. What if the Solver entity itself has something similar going on? We don't know what it's doing behind the scenes, after all. What if it's like those Drones, where it needs to consume blood and flesh to keep up its energy, much like how they need oil? If that's the case, Cyn's remark likely implies that it's used up a shit-ton of energy on something, which does not bode well for the future of Copper-9 or its inhabitants... (Or any other planets/exo-planets in that universe, for that matter.)

I'm probably over-analyzing stuff again, but still think it's interesting. lmao

[acewitch-writes]

My last snippet stirred up some interest, so here's another piece of that same story! This snippet is the prologue. Once I have more written, I intend to post it to AO3.

...

“Are you sure you want to go in there alone?”

“He won't talk if anyone comes with me,” Remus responds, ducking away from his father's smothering hands clamped to his shoulders. “I'll be fine. Just trust me.”

Lyall sends an uneasy glance to his wife, Hope, and she nods. “Let him go, Ly. The boy couldn't hurt him even if he wanted to.”

Lyall hesitates a moment longer, chewing on his lip, before exhaling in defeat and standing back. “Alright. Alright. Just… just make sure Protego is enabled. Full coverage, nothing less. Stay back at least two feet from the bars. And shout if something goes wrong. Understood?”

“Yes, dad,” Remus mumbles.

“We'll be right here on the other side of the door.”

“I know.”

“Be careful.”

There's no need, Remus isn't in any real danger here, but he nods anyway. “Of course, dad. Always.”

The Sentinel at the door, clad in the trademarked black robes fitted with leather braces, winding belts, armored chestplate, and sturdy knee-length boots, waves his wand when Remus steps forward, unlatching the magical locks. The door creaks open on metal hinges.

Remus walks inside, trying to keep his head inclined in a show of bravery. But when it clanks shut behind him, he can't help jumping slightly. 

A voice chuckles from the shadows. “You're like a cat.”

In spite of everything, Remus feels his heart perk up. “Symptom of a bubble-wrapped childhood,” he responds to the shadows, eyes scanning the room before him. There is a metal holding cell taking up just over half of the room, bars humming softly with anti-magic enchantments. Huddled on the floor in the corner of the cell, Remus finally spots him.

Sirius. He's dressed in traditional black wizard's robes that must have belonged to his father because they appear to be a size too large. His long black hair is loose and disheveled, dull strands framing his tired, beautiful face. He regards Remus with wary silver eyes from his seat on the stone floors.

“They let you come in alone?”

“Not without a massive fight,” Remus admits. “My dad didn't want to let me.”

“I'm sure he didn't.”

“He thinks you're too dangerous.” Remus says this with a hint of accusation.

“Maybe I am,” Sirius says flatly. He looks down at his hands, secured tightly with silver manacles. “How long has it been?”

“Three months.”

Sirius nods distantly.  “My parents?”

Remus frowns. “Already sent away for reconditioning.”

Sirius’ expression darkens. “Regulus?”

Remus’ heart suddenly starts racing. “Him, too,” he lies. “They'll be assigned jobs soon.”

“Jobs,” Sirius scoffs without emotion. “Call it what it is, Remus. Your mum can't hear you on this side of the door.”

“It's better than death,” Remus points out.

“No, it's not. I'd rather be dead than sent to one of those horrible labor camps,” Sirius snaps. “And if you had any magic of your own, you'd agree.”

“You know that I agree,” Remus retorts. “But you went rogue. I don't know if I can get you out of this.”

Sirius pulls himself to his feet and limps over to the cell door. “Then break me out.”

“I can't.”

“All I need is a Spellcom,” Sirius insists, leaning against the bars imploringly. “Give me yours and tell them I nicked it.”

Remus takes a step back. “Sirius, I really can't.”

“Yes, you can. Just give me the damn Spellcom.”

“You murdered 12 people,” Remus bursts out, unable to contain it any longer. “Their families are outside right now calling for your head! One of the victims was a ten year old girl, Sirius. She was at the zoo with her granny, and now they're both dead because of you!”

Sirius’ expression turns to stone, hands slowly lowering from the bars. “That wasn't my fault,” he mutters coldly. “Dragons are meant to be dangerous and wild and free, not locked up in an enclosure to be gawked at by crowds of muggles. Their own disrespect for the beasts is what got them killed.”

“You let them out! As far as the law is concerned, their blood is on your hands.”

Sirius laughs with harsh contempt. “Godric, listen to you. Always the coward. I knew you were too soft to do what needed to be done.” He returns to his shadowy corner and eases himself back to the floor with a grimace. “Just go. You're worthless to me here.”

This stings. Remus swallows it back, resolve crumbling. “I wanted to help,” he whispers. “I thought we were going to do this together.”

“You would have just held me back,” Sirius says heartlessly. “You're too weak and spoiled. You wouldn't know courage if it slapped you across the face.”

“That's why you left me in the dark?” Remus guesses, heart splintering. “You didn't think I could handle it?”

“If you could, you'd hand over your Spellcom right now,” Sirius responds challengingly. He holds Remus’ gaze for a long moment, waiting, before snorting derisively. “See? You'll watch them ship me away before you ever grow some semblance of a fucking spine.”

Remus feels helpless. He wants to do it. He wants to reach into his pocket to hand over his Spellcom like Sirius is demanding. But there are so many Sentinels outside, he would never make it. And when he finds out that Regulus didn't survive, he'll get himself killed before ever letting them bring him back here alive.

Sirius is a ticking bomb, prepared to blow himself to bits if it means he'll at least get to die as a free man. Remus can't let it happen. He can't live in a world that doesn't include Sirius. Why couldn't Sirius have realized that before he did this stupid thing without him? 

Remus can't think of any other way out of this now. Sirius dug his grave too deep this time. Even with all the power and influence of the Lupin family at their disposal, they can't make this stain vanish. 

There's no other solution. Remus can't let Sirius live out the rest of his days in a labor camp, and he can't let him get himself killed in a violent escape attempt. Which leaves him with only one option.

Remus turns to leave without another word. He knocks on the door, and the Sentinel posted outside opens it at once. As he steps through the threshold, Sirius jeers one final insult at his retreating back. “Pathetic.”

The door slams shut. Remus feels the word curling around his chest, settling there along with all the vitriol and contempt with which it was uttered. Searing him from the inside.

“Are you okay?” his father frets straight away, eyes darting all over his son's body for any sign of damage.

Remus waves him away and lifts his head to face his mother with grave determination. “I would like to have Sirius Black reconditioned into my own personal Sentinel.”

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

The wheel dictates Aron must suffer an asthma attack! 👻

This ask was so interesting to write because Aron doesn't have asthma, but I found a way to make it work! I hope you like it!

Cross posted on AO3 and Wattpad

Deep breath (Sam x Aron)

Aron loved her job.

Growing up, she always knew she wanted to go into the medical field. She’d struggled with her health and chronic pain for as long as she could remember, and many of her family members did as well. She watched her own father battle cancer for years, a battle he lost. When he passed away, she knew she wanted to do something to make a difference in the medical field.

However, she never thought she’d be capable of medical school, since she barely was able to make it through high school. So that was a dream she gave up on pretty early on in her teen years.

However, when she turned eighteen and learned about magic from her late grandfather, he offered to find her a job at a hospital in the demon districts. Aron wasn’t sure how the legal aspect of it worked, but after about four years of training there, she had a medical degree. Finally she was a doctor, working with demons and humans alike, while also improving her magic skills.

Unfortunately, not long after she was finally officially able to call herself a doctor, her own health took a turn for the worst. Her seizures became a daily occurrence, her paralysis episodes becoming more intense, and the pain was unbearable. So, she had to quit the job she loved so much.

Then, after receiving a proper diagnosis of chiari malformation and then the surgery to treat it, she was finally able to go back to work. Her boyfriend Sam- who happened to be an incubus, had stood by her side every step of the way as she returned to work. 

The first few months were incredibly difficult, but no one could deny her increased mood as time went on.

That all being said, her complicated history made it even harder for her to take breaks when she needed it. It had been about a year since she returned to her job, so she had gotten used to the long hours. Human illness wasn’t contagious to demons, so she continued working when catching sickness she could work through, and asked other doctors to cover human patients until she was better.

She made extra sure to take precautions around sick demons, not only for her own sake, but also for the sake of the incubi. She didn’t want to get sick from demon illness, and she sure as hell didn’t want to get the others sick as well.

But that didn’t make her immune. Even the most effective ways of preventing herself from catching something didn’t stop her from coming down with something. 

Over the last three years, a new illness began spreading around the districts. It was believed to be brought over between planes, but no one could pinpoint the exact cause yet. It caused symptoms that heavily resembled a human illness known as asthma, a chronic lung condition that causes inflammation in the airways.

This new condition wasn’t exactly like asthma. It only lasted anywhere from a few weeks to a year, instead of being lifelong. It also caused fevers, not high enough to cause a problem but high enough to cause discomfort.

Aron and her colleagues had been looking for better treatments for a while to lessen the symptoms, and had begun prescribing steroid inhalers to the humans who contracted the condition. Unfortunately, the demon's immune systems were killing any possible effect the medication may have, so they were stuck on how to treat them.

Aron was currently drawing blood from a young witch patient. Her recently dyed hair- dark brown with baby blue streaks- was in a claw clip. She had on simple black pants and a blue t-shirt underneath her white coat, a name tag hanging around her neck.

The room felt extra cold, but she could feel herself beginning to sweat a little bit underneath the layers of clothing. She tried to brush it off as her own issues with temperature regulation. She smiled at the patient and gave her instructions to check out at the front desk before stepping out.

She walked through the hallway, planning to do some paperwork until the next case, when she started to feel a heaviness in her chest. She cleared her throat, feeling her breathing become a bit labored.

As she kept walking, it was quickly becoming harder to breathe. It felt like she was under water, gasping for air as she began coughing violently. She desperately tried to fight for air, the strain of her coughing sending waves of pain through her head and neck. 

Tears began streaming down Arons face as her lungs burned from lack of oxygen. She leaned against the wall, her throat feeling like she’d swallowed sandpaper. Her head felt like it was going to explode.

“Doctor Anderson?” she heard a voice call; it sounded like her coworker but she couldn’t make out the sound over the volume of her coughing and the ringing in her ears. “Aron? Aron!”

She heard the sound of a door opening, and some commotion before feeling something being placed against her mouth. An inhaler.

“Deep breath, take a deep breath,” she heard them say.

Aron parted her lips and took the inhaler in her mouth, inhaling the medication, then repeating. After twice, they pulled it away, placing a hand on Arons shoulder. “You okay?”

Her coughing calmed down, an ache still in her chest. She opened her eyes and looked at her coworker and friend, who had short blonde hair and big, silver eyes. “I’m…I’m okay…”

Aron was instructed to go home after an evaluation which revealed she’d contracted the illness. She argued otherwise, but was left with no choice. They sent her home with an inhaler and some pills.

She had a tight frown on her face as she stepped inside of the mansion. 

“Doofus? What are you doing home so early?” Sam asked her as he started to walk over.

Aron put her hands up and stepped back. “Don’t come near me, I’m contagious.”

He huffed and crossed his arms. “Human sickness can’t hurt me, remember?”

“‘S not human sickness,” she countered. “It’s fucking demon asthma.”

“Oh,” he said, the attitude leaving his tone. “Shit. What can we do?”

She held up the inhaler and pills wordlessly, not speaking.

Sam sighed and stepped closer, making her frown at him and step back. He gave her a pointed look. “I can handle some asthma, doofus. What, are you going to just stay away from me until you’re better?”

“That’s literally the only thing I can do to keep you and the others from being sick,” she said, beginning to walk up the stairs. "I hate my fucking job," she added in a grumble.

"No you don't," he sighed. “You can’t just stay locked in our room. I’m gonna need to get in there eventually.”

She paused and leaned against the wall, being hit with another coughing fit. She held the railing of the stairs as she tried to keep herself upright. Immediately, Sam was beside her, stopping her from falling and gently rubbing her back. “Sheesh. You’re gonna cough up a lung.”

“So will you if you don’t get away,” she told him as her coughing finally stopped. She didn't truly want him gone, but feeling sick made her grouchy.

“Whatever. Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said, carefully picking her up and taking her to their room.

[itsukismoon]

Main Story - Chapter 4 (Summary)

For previous chapters, please refer to here and here

Heads up: very long summary. 憧蝶 Is the name of the organisation Nanashi, Testament, Mirror and the Dark Night Duo are a part of. I’m unsure of how to translate the name so I’ll just call them “Butterfly”.

Est reveals that 150 years ago, separated cases w the same symptoms as the ones from black fairies’ miasma already appeared. finding the records of this was extremely hard for two reasons: 1) either medical limitation (medicine at the time still didnt know what was going on) 2) someone is currently trying to hide the information. hes pretty sure theres some kind of connection. but anyway, knowing this can be a huge help to Kaiai, who will go back w Sion to Sorciana (capital of the Country of Magic, the setting of ch.2 and HQ of Magia Seminar Guild) to look further into the matter. now its Gui’s turn to speak, and he drops a few bombs:

If they want to know more about the key, they need to go to the mechanics’ guild (Niji no kanata) and look for Oswald, a grandmeister whos a leading figure in mechanical engineering. in the now out-of-print record book by him, the encyclopaedia of inventions and dreams, there is a secret box (secret boxes open only if certain instructions are followed, kind of like in da vinci’s code). in particular, said secret box presents the same motifs and decorations as Emma’s key, and apparently it was made for Eden, Emma’s father. the box’s whereabouts are unclear, but they still should go find Oswald and ask.

In order to go there, the mechanical city of Woodman, the shortest route is to take the moon road to Dilettant, gastronomy’s country. so that’ll be their next destination! Emma’s worried that the butterfly will act and break some havoc, but Camus walks in and tells her not to worry, Bloody lady will take it upon itself to keep in control the situation so that they cant do anything without being noticed. Mam’s pride has been hurt after the incident, so she has already sent multiple spies all across the world. they will get revenge on the Butterfly. Camus also reminds Emma about her purification powers, and that she should definitely check that out. Crow chimes in adding that if they get to Oswald and find out more about eden, Emma will find out more about herself and her origins! and when that happens they will definitely be there for her, since shes their nakama :)

The gang arrives in Dilettant, and Rouge starts fawning over the mouth-watering smells and sounds of wine glasses being clinked, but before he can run off the others stop him: they’re not here to have fun, they have to be careful about the butterfly! Itsuki apologises, saying that the next moon road to Woodman will take some more time to appear, so in the meantime they’re stuck here. Noah scolds rouge for his usual careless behaviour, and Gran approaches Rouge asking something but seeming very indecisive about it, like he doesn't want to ask it in front of the others. Victor arrives, happy to have found a nice brand of liquor. apparently, while everyone at Bloody lady is busy dealing w the aftermath of the incident, he joined tsukiwatari to look for some ingredients. he says that his job is to keep the bar lively and provide for a resting place when things are rough. he also notices that everyone has a weary face, and asks if they're going to spend the entire week being miserable. they should enjoy their time here, after all, tsukiwatari is the guild of exploration, they should be having fun in new places.

He explains that Dilettant used to be the country of manors (荘園) with an extremely elitist society and poor culture. the feudal lords who owned the land had all the power, and if you were not one of them, your life was basically terrible. social status used to be everything, but then Oscar, the duke of Dilettant and self-proclaimed “genius of the tongue”, came and changed the way of life of the entire country, whose economy is now based on food and good cuisine. he has an extremely refined sense of taste and chose only the finest of flavours while promoting all talented chefs regardless of their social status. Emma remembers hearing of him from Lannes, who had to spend three entire days analysing all of his guild’s (Gastronomy) reports. apparently Oscar eats 20 meals a day lol. Itsuki explains that the prestigious guild reviews local specialties, has a magazine with all kinds of recipes, and the guild home is a restaurant, Ballroom, whose reservations run out for months at a time. although tsukiwatari would like to eat there, they’ll have to settle for something else.

All around them are shops self promoting themselves as Oscars favourites, etc. all of a sudden, said Oscar walks out of a restaurant, people gathering all around and the owner following in tow. Oscar walks to the restaurant banner saying that the food has been “approved by Oscar himself”, and he tears it down, adding “what a foolish thing”. as this happens, tsukiwatari can clearly see that he has a black fairy with him, although he doesn't seem to be losing his control. Emma calls Navi to ask if he has any idea of whats going on, but he's just as clueless as them. in the meantime Oscar leaves, so they chase after him in the back alleys of the town, but instead they find some monster/black fairy familiars. after defeating them, Gran asks Rouge if he knows something

Rouge:” what?? why would i know something??”

Gran:” ah… i see…. yeah, that makes sense…”

Anyway, since they have lost sight of Oscar, they decide to go to the guild hq to see if they can talk things out. they meet Walter, who notices Emma’s guildkeeper pin and asks if shes here on federation business. he's a bit scary, so the interaction goes like this:

Emma: "u-uhm-" Crow: "cmon don't be scared" rouge: "ahah, get in the right spirit! those arms and neck etc... so broad" Noah: "..." Itsuki: "don't be afraid. if its broadness, Gran wont lose either" Gran: "oi💢"

They tell him they want to meet w Oscar, but Walter is crystal clear: the duke is not meeting anyone as hes busy preparing for the week’s big event; and he walks off. the gang hears a pair of familiar voices: Joe and Ace are working as trainees at the guild to become chefs because apparently they just got fired from the Butterfly AND they know nothing about Oscar’s black fairy. Emma asks them what their goal is, trying to destroy people’s dreams.

“its for the greater evil! the greater evil is just greater evil!!! right Ace?

“yeah!!! nothing more nothing less!” (they're just stupid)

They ask more questions to them but they just don't know shit. Noah says they're about as useless as Rouge. someone from the Gastronomy guild steps in, asking them to go wash the dishes instead of wasting their time around… it’s Cuit! he introduces himself to the group, telling them he couldn't help but overhear those two talking about evil, black fairies and Oscar’s name being mentioned.

In the meantime, at the Butterfly’s hq, Mirror asks if they’ve made today’s move yet. Testament denies, saying that they overdid it last time, so now the federation is keeping a close eye on them. furthermore, Bloody lady has apparently found the hq? they predicted this, but its still quite a bother: its best to lay low for a while. in the meantime, Nanashi should infiltrate somewhere… he complains about being alone, since Testament fired the Dark Night duo. doesn't Mirror want to help wink wink? “no, I'm a bystander.”

Back to the guild, Cuit apologises to the others for Walter: he’s very quiet and due to his appearance he can come off as a bit scary; in truth, Cuit describes him as a gentle bear in the forest (+side note for those who do not know it: he's a poison expert! thats his job at the guild since, according to Cuit, the more poisonous the ingredient the tastier it is). while the entire place is in chaos due to the upcoming big event, a crying woman is yelling at Kuchen, Cuit’s older brother. she and Kuchen had a date yesterday, but he didn't go, and she asks him whether his job or her are more important.

K:”shut uppp. and don't come to my workplace, its annoying” + “don't say such embarrassing things. its obvious that my job is more important”

After the woman runs away in tears, Riche, Kuchen and Cuit’s younger brother and Gastronomy’s sommelier, comes into the picture, lightly scolding him. Kuchen defends himself, it’s not his fault that she’s taking it so seriously: he was just playing around with her. Cuit adds that sometimes the other person will take things more seriously, so he has to think about these things.

before Kuchen can say anything else, he notices the group and asks about them. they all move to a more secluded space where they introduce each other (Emma holds her hand out to Riche in greeting but he hides behind Cuit, they don't say it here but Riche has a fear of women or smth lol; then Kuchen teases Emma saying shes easy to read, and its obvious shes angry at him for making the girl cry early; they don't start on the right foot). they tell the trio about black fairies, and the fact that Oscar is currently being possessed. according to Riche this adds up onto his recent behaviour: he's been distancing himself from everyone more than usual, he's been visiting restaurants alone, places he had previously rated as bad, etc. the problem is that Oscar is the pillar of gastronomy in the country, and with this upcoming event of the week, the “Grand Ball”, the fact that Oscar is like this while also being the one in charge for all the chefs and dishes in charge is a HUGE problem. the event will be a national banquet where many foreign royals and nobles will attend: if it doesn't go well, it’ll be over for the entire country. but here comes the dilemma the group cant wrap their head around: black fairies make people aggressive and go out if control; why is it that Oscar looks so calm? the only way to find out is to meet him.

In the mean time, in a small alleyway, a chef is yelling and complaining that he didn't get chosen for the Grand Ball banquet. this is so unfair blah blah blah. all of a sudden, though, Oscar approaches him…

Walter is updated of the situation, but he refuses to force a meeting between the group and Oscar unless actual chaos happens. Oscar’s daily work is still fundamentally important, and mustn't be impeded in any way. the only way to actually get them to meet him is by proposing a food that he has never eaten before… Crow remembers an ancient recipe of a banished dish they found during an expedition, the Dark Pot. according to Cuit, its a legend among chefs worldwide, and it was banned because of its extremely strong flavour. Walter is certain Oscar has never eaten the dish before, since he’s never had to poison taste it; if they manage to make it, he will surely come. however, since the main chef and menu for the Grand Ball haven't been chosen yet, the group will have to handle this themselves, as even Cuit is working to get Oscar’s approval. the Dark Night duo overhears the convo, and they challenge the group to become the world’s best chefs. moving on, with Lannes’ help Emma manages to get a copy of the translated recipe, which leaves everyone confused:

ingredients: slim pig belly, floppy onions, blissful cabbage, smiling potatoes, snow grass (”sukisusuki kusa” lol), magma cacao pulp, mad grapes (according to Cuit they can all be purchased in Dilettant)

some of the steps include: sprinkle salt following your heart, stir the ingredients while shouting the food spell “◯◉◇☆x~!”, simmer it as hot as your first love.

the recipe doesn't make sense. they decide to rely on crow’s good luck to make a decent dish.

snow grass: ill be very brief because these chapters are mostly humour based. Emma, Noah, Itsuki, Crow and Walter go to a forest to get the grass; there’s plenty of poisonous plants which is why Walter is tagging along. the Dark Night duo is also following the group and they eat poisonous plants bc they see Walter doing it thus getting food poisoning. they get to where the grass is, and the taller they get it the better. the duo jumps ahead, but they get trapped by the grass who traps enemies in self-defence. Itsuki follows suit, but when extracting the grass, the plant lets out a soul-wrenching scream, while also working an aphrodisiac on Itsuki, making him fall in love. Crow jumps in to the rescue and everything goes well. heres a few things we find out during this ch: Itsuki loves cooking but he’s terrible at it (which is why he’s giving it his all to make this dish), Noah used to live in a forest with other kids but said forest doesn't exist anymore, Walter comes from a family of poison specialists, and he holds Oscar in an extremely high regard.

magma cocoa powder: now its only Emma and Kuchen, and he takes her to a shop that sells the cocoa they need, which is apparently extremely spicy. Emma politely thanks him, but he tells her to stop being so formal and to drop the “-san” honorific. as he laughs at her stiffness, and a crowd of girls go crazy from afar because omg THE Kuchen just laughed!!!! and who is that his new gf???? they banter for a bit until Emma changes the topic, asking him if he’s ready for the Grand Ball. Kuchen replies saying that he’ll just do it the same as always: if he’s the one making the chocolate then obviously it will be the best. then Emma says “you have so much confidence. you truly are a genius chocolatier, aren't you?” to which Kuchen doesn't reply, a troubled expression on his face. as they walk, Emma spots a shop with a poster saying their chocolate was even approved by Kuchen, who stops dead in his tracks and asks Emma to buy him some. she does, but apparently the chocolate is low-quality. he tears the poster down and starts fighting with the owner, who apparently knows him. Kuchen accuses him of copying the recipe of the chocolatier who used to work for the shop, the one he had actually praised, and of mass-producing the chocolate to save money. they get into a bitter fight, and the owner yells at Kuchen that an arrogant person like him will be shunned immediately the moment he loses Oscar’s backing. they walk off, and kuchen explains that things like these happen quite often; but in any case, he has no intention of leaving the guild: if there’s anywhere he can create the best chocolate in the world, that’s next to Oscar. Emma says that she understands, and that his passion for chocolate is shining through, which leaves Kuchen shocked (they usually take him for a fool). they go back to the guild, where Victor is fighting w Riche to make him try a spritz (Riche is a full believer of pure wine only despite liking the spritz). Emma approaches Cuit, complimenting him for his hard work and adding that she should truly be more like him. Cuit says “yeah thats right… if it wasn't for hard work I probably… (implying he’s no one without hard work → talentless), leaving Emma like ???????

mud grapes: Riche, Victor and Emma this time! they visit the most famous vineyard in the outskirts of the city, and they easily get the grapes as the vineyard gifts them for the special occasion, although usually mud grapes cannot be grown artificially. Emma mentions that she thanks both Kuchen and Riche-san, and Riche stops dead in his tracks. DID SHE JUST CALL KUCHEN WITHOUT A HONORIFIC?? ARE THEY ALREADY THIS CLOSE??? WHAT HAPPENED DURING THAT OUTING!!! IS SHE TRYING TO DISTRACT HIS BROTHERS!!! etc. Emma is trying to defend herself but Riche is literally standing meters away bc of his (hasnt been explained yet) problem with women, whatever that is (Emma believes he just hates her, but Victor understands right away).

(im not putting many pics in these summaries but i just want you guys to understand)

He gets closer while still hiding behind Victor. he admits she’s different from all the other women that get close to his brothers, and they kinda make peace? but Emma feels a weird sensation, the same one she felt when she saw Oscar from afar, and shivers. Navi appears from the key, scaring Riche shitless, telling her she’s almost got the right answer! this time its just familiars though! a fight ensues, and once its over, due to the presence of the familiars, Emma knows that a black fairy is nearby, although shes unsure as to who might be behind this all.

In the meantime, in the city, Gran is alone with Rouge. the latter playfully asks him whats going on: everyone’s busy gathering the ingredients but he's inviting him out to hang out. Gran tells him that he's grateful for his presence, and that despite acting sleazy, he's always very helpful, especially when the others get a bit chaotic. however, he's been doubting him ever since the incident at Bloody lady. when Itsuki and Noah were abducted, the kidnapper dropped a handkerchief: its the one Gran gave Rouge on the very first day they met. furthermore, he guided them around the casino, gave them information on the secret gathering, and he was able to precede the DN duo. Gran asks if he’s a tsukiwatari nakama, if he's truly family?

Emma and Gran meet up at the guild. Noah didn't really care about the cooking part so he went somewhere. as for Rouge… Gran says he went for a drink somewhere. Victor is also somewhere in the city. this means that Itsuki and Crow are the only two ones cooking (aka… its BAD). when they walk in the kitchen, Gran nearly collapses to the floor, attacked by a black miasma coming from Itsuki’s plate. he begs Emma to try the food (its actually black materia), and Emma is like “THIS IS EDIBLE????”; she wants to try regardless, since Itsuki’s eyes are shining like two stars. Gran tells her to wait, he needs to fetch stomach medicine first- and Crow just tells Itsuki that theres no way Emma can eat that unless he wants to actually kill her… Itsuki apologises, he got too ahead of himself :( the black fairies appear and start making fun of him (”this… this has the smell of death”, “humans eat such trash??? their foolishness knows no bounds…”). The rest of the preparations are a bit of a mess, with Crow cutting the vegetables in fist-sized portions, the unclear instructions on seasoning, etc. As the dish is slow cooking, Emma meets Riche outside the kitchen, and together they overhear Kuchen and Cuit talking from another kitchen. Cuit, despite being terribly busy with managing guests and staff, has decided to change his menu, in order to better suit Kuchen’s perfect dessert. Riche accuses Emma of peeping, but Kuchen overhears their banter and invites them in, where he has Emma try the desert he’ll serve at the grand ball: a multilayered chocolate cake. Emma finds it perfect, commenting that this is why Kuchen is so confident… this remark leaves Cuit feeling insecure, so he excuses himself with a lie and leaves.

Emma returns to the dark pot kitchen, and we are told the DN duo’s past (directly narrated by them despite no one asking lol). They lived in a nameless country, in a nameless city, with no parents nor house, a place rampant with diseases and crime. Their dream was to become the world’s no.1 heroes of justice. They would stand up to adults bullying children, getting beaten up in their stead. One day, they fell into a trap made by the bad guys, were confronted by the police and had to run away from the city. Then, they arrived to a certain country, where they started working as servants to a certain noble, an evil man who stole money from the people. They tried finding evidence of his crimes to get him prosecuted, but failed and were accused instead. This process of being kicked out and being accused repeated itself a few times, until they decided to become bounty hunters to make ends meet. On their first job, they got saved by Nanashi who, upon hearing of their past, told them that since they had always lost to “evil” then they just had to become even more “evil” to win. To conquer evil with evil (ikemen villains im looking at you). And thats how they started working with the Butterfly. Unfortunately, they were fired from there too, and after Oscar approached them in Dilettant, they have decided to prove their worth through cooking. Crow says that Joe (pink haired brother, the oldest one) is making a terrible face, and that dreams are supposed to be more fun to talk about. Ace disagrees, some happy people with sparkling dreams like them and no hardships could never understand. The duo goes back to taking care of their pot.

In the meantime, Victor and Noah are talking together as they stroll through town. Noah thinks the others act a bit too friendly, and he points out how weird Primus club is for having members that don't trust each other like Camus and Ymir. Victor says that although his guild is made up of selfish people with different agendas and personalities, the casino is an irreplaceable home to all of them. As they talk, they spot Oscar with no black fairy, and they chase after him. Scene cuts to Nanashi who has successfully infiltrated somewhere, he talks to himself until he goes “damn… I'm already at the talking to myself stage? I might be missing Joe and Ace more than i thought… hey, black fairy, you’re the only one I can count on here; there’s someone that’ll be perfect for you…”.

The dark pot has been completed! Emma goes into the courtyard to report to Cuit, and finds him sitting on a bench. He apologises for not being of much help, and when asked about how his menu is proceeding, he answers that it’s still a bit… blurry. Emma notices a mug with snow grass soup in it. Cuit asks if she wants to try it, and when she does she’s overjoyed! Then, they proceed to have a cute little interaction where he asks her to drop the honourifics, while he switches from “Emma-san” to “Emma-chan”! Feeling a bit less shy, she asks him if he’s worried about anything, adding that as a guildkeeper she can help him with anything at all! Cuit laughs and inches closer, he’s so happy: first she compliments his cooking with sparkling eyes, now she’s lending an ear to him… he explains that his Grand Ball full course meal included Riche’s wines and Kuchen’s chocolate; however, he knows that Oscar won’t choose him for the event, so he’s just holding back his brothers. On the other hand, Kuchen managed to create the perfect dish effortlessly, so he can’t help but compare himself to his brother. Emma tells him that the only thing she can say is that the soup he made was so delicious, she smiled. that’s why—

Victor: “WE HAVE A PROBLEM!”.

Victor and Noah come rushing in the garden and they start telling how they chased Oscar into a suspicious building where he was having a suspicious meeting with about 10 suspicious looking chefs, where he told them that the Ball is approaching soon so failure will not be an option as his black fairy hovered behind him. Emma and Cuit suspect he’s planning to make the black fairy go wild at the Grand Ball. Riche approaches them, but he seems unresponsive. A black fairy appears at his side, together with Nanashi, who declares not to know anything about Oscar’s situation (is he telling the truth though?); Crow and the others went to patrol the streets, so now they have to handle Riche by themselves. Riche pours wine into a glass, then smashes it on the ground once he’s gulped it all down. Kuchen arrives at the scene, and Riche starts with a monologue on how he will never forgive his brothers! They are just TOO WONDERFUL! Kuchen has received a gift from God, Which is why he’s the best chocolatier around; the women he dates are unworthy, and he should just cut them all off!!!!!! And why is Cuit so insecure when his cooking is one of the best around!!!!!!!!! When he was a kid he was a troublemaker who got into fights a lot, but he always made sure to come back home in time because he wanted to eat Cuit’s meals!!!!!!!! He will never forgive him for underestimating his own cooking. Kuchen understands, then asks Cuit if he’s been looking at the face of the person who eats his food lately. Emma joins in, but before much can be said, Riche continues: HOW DARES OSCAR LEAVE HIS BROTHERS OUT THE GRAND BALL!!!!!! HE CANT FORGIVE HIM! HE’LL DESTROY EVERYTHING!!!!!!

Fight ensues, the black fairy is purified and sucked into the key, and riche collapses to the ground. Nanashi says “purification complete, met my quota, time to leave!”. Then he swears he doesn't know anything about Oscar’s black fairy: things have been tough on them lately. Noah:”So cant u just stay still??” Nanashi:”Nope! I wanted to see Emma-chan! ;P”. Dark night duo walk into the scene by chance, where they see Nanashi. The latter comments how they have given up so easily on their dream to become the most evil duo in the world; but whatever, he didn’t really mind their stupid positivism (Joe and Ace are left “!!!!”). Then he leaves.

Riche awakens some time later in one of the castle bedrooms (IDK if i said this before but the guild’s hq is called castle Edouard) after getting patched up by Walter, who pats him on the head and looks at Kuchen before stepping to the side. This prompts the eldest to speak up, apologising to Riche and promising he’ll try not to worry him too much in the future. Cuit also promises to believe in himself more, and that he’ll definitely have Oscar approve of his cooking for the Ball (cue Walter patting his head lol; every time he does it everyone always gets embarrassed and blushes. He approached Kuchen like 👁️👁️ and Kuchen goes “N-no…im fine….”). Crow, Gran and Itsuki come into the room, and they start discussing what just happened. Regardless of whether it’s the Butterfly’s work or not, they have to stop the duke before things turn violent. However, Cuit asks for 2 days of time: if there’s truly something wrong with Oscar, Cuit and his brothers want to ascertain it w their own hands.

Flashback: Cuit loses a competition because a rival chef mixed something into his dishes. Oscar steps in, saying that he ate Cuit’s dish, and that man added 25.8 grams of Bougetto (?) liquor in the sauce. The other chef defends himself: even if this is Oscar we’re talking about, he can’t treat him however he wants, he’s the chef of the yadda yadda family and blah blah blah. Oscar has no ears for someone tarnishing gourmet food. “Cuit, let’s go”. That Noble family is actually really close with the royal family, And they don’t let anyone get in their way, so Oscar’s position could be in trouble; but he doesn’t care, as he will not allow food to be degraded. He adds that if something were to happen to him, then Cuit and the others will have to take up his role.

If the black fairy is distorting Oscar’s belief, then it is up to them to do something about it; this is their gourmet pride (chapter title drop oooh). Walter will keep an eye on Oscar and let them know if he does anything suspicious, whereas Emma promises to step in in case things go south: as a guildkeeper, she wont let meisters get hurt!

Three days later, they finally get to meet Oscar to have him try the dark pot; he gives them some kind of backhanded compliments which make the group feel like he’s indirectly yelling/mad at them. However, before trying their dish, they request him to try Cuit/Riche/Kuchen’s meal first. I will not be translating the entirety of the meal the they give Oscar however: Cuit proposes a dish made with foreign vegetables, and Oscar is not happy with this decision; Cuit points out that these vegetables are not inferior in quality despite being cheaper, but they give a more homely feeling, something that is kind of important to Oscar if you read his past story. He then goes on to explain how they tried incorporating the guests’ countries of origin in the menu for the grand ball. This is a great responsibility, because it means that all dishes must be equally good, or the guests from a certain country will be displeased; it’s why Cuit wants to be the one to handle the menu: the skill of a chef is seen in these situations. After the meal, it appears that Oscar is extremely pleased. But.

“I will not let you serve this at the Grand Ball”.

Everyone’s appalled, so they just hit him with their suspicions. Oscar’s black fairy, Feld, appears. And he seems to be, extremely angry, to the point where Oscar is struggling to stand up. He directly addresses him by name, telling him to calm down (meaning he’s by now acquainted with the fairy). Navi comes out of the key, and he points out how Feld is different from all other black fairies they have met until now: instead of being violently out of control, he feels a bit weak. They explain to Oscar what the situation is and what black fairies are. Feld appeared in front of Oscar one day, and “stirred” his emotions, which he accepted as a good thing, as he, too, is driven by anger just like Feld. This basically means that the fairy has been trying to go out of control, but Oscar has been resisting through sheer willpower alone, although his body suffers from it. Emma gets ready to purify him, but Oscar refuses to let go of this anger now. Emma, ask him what in the world is he so angry about? He mysteriously tells her that if she wants to understand she has to follow him.

Fast forward a bit, Emma is accompanying Oscar to a party held at an aristocratic mansion. she doesn’t really know what’s happening plus she’s worried about messing up w her manners in such a lavish place. Oscar says:” don’t worry about the nobles, just think of them as potatoes” (lol) “but Oscar that’s disrespectful!” “Yeah, poor potatoes, sorry for comparing you to these people..” (LOLL). During the meal all the aristocrats are chatting among themselves and Oscar looks angrier and angrier although Emma doesn’t really understand why. Then, an aristocrat approaches Oscar and they start talking: the latter asks about how his chef (someone who Oscar noticed as being quite talented) was doing, and the noble replied saying that he was replaced with a chef from another noble family of chefs who are famous for producing top-quality cooks. The aristocrat keeps talking, looking down on “untalented nobodies” and whatnot. When dinner is over, Emma confesses she kind of understands him now: what most of those people enjoyed was not the good food but the title and brand that came with the chefs. Oscar goes on to say how these people eat food that is made with high-quality ingredients and praise it because of the quality of the ingredients themselves; as he says this a dark aura surrounds him. This is the disease that is currently rampant in the country: chefs’ competitiveness should be encouraged, but the people evaluating them are rotten to the core. As a result, unknown but skilled chefs are being deprived of opportunities to grow. He is enraged at the current state of the country, which is why the guild is having the Grand Ball. He simply tells her to look forward to it.

The day comes and Emma is allowed to sit next to Oscar in case the black fairy goes crazy. The dishes are brought in and everyone is enjoying the taste of them without knowing the names of the chefs and where the ingredients come from; therefore Oscar is forcing them to “enjoy the food” rather than the titles that come with it.

At the end of the night he presents the 10 chefs who prepared the entire menu to the invitees: the Dilettant aristocrats recognised them as being the unknown chefs they fired from their kitchens in favour of celebrity chefs; Oscar exposes their hypocrisy in front of the foreign guests, making them appear as fools. On the other hand, foreign guests are delighted at the idea of hiring these unknown but extremely skilled chefs. Later, Oscar finally confronts the Dilettant aristocrats, outing his ire and disgust. The aristocrats fall silent and when they leave, they are embarrassed and with red faces. Oscar delightfully laughs like a child at them. Him and Emma chitchat about everything that went on and the way Oscar had to train the chefs by making them do the dishes 300 times. As they talk, they are approached by an extremely well-dressed man and his attendant: it’s Dilettant’s king, who thanks Oscar for hitting at those nobles’ reputation in public. The country can now finally start working to meet the standards of its reputation as a country of food lovers.

Later on Emma purifies Oscar of the black fairy who now regains some kind of consciousness and he starts speaking (after he sends Evan flying with a punch). The person he used to protect once upon a time was a man who was accused of a crime he didn’t commit and who died in despair. Navi ask him what the hell he is since he wasn’t inside the key nor he was losing control. Mateo and Rive (?) come from the key, and mentioned their own experiences: they were overwhelmed by negative emotions and it is impossible for the host to maintain a sense of self. Feld doesn’t remember anything at all. However, he has a vague memory of a huge tree, which is the one Emma saw during the “purification incident” back with Bloody Lady (CH2 PT18). This seems to resonate with all black fairies present. 

Emma reports the information to Crow, and they surmise that the tree might be the place where black fairies originate from. They also suppose that Eden, Emma’s father, might be there.

The next day it is officially a week since the group has arrived in the city and tomorrow they will have to leave to the next country. Before that, they are having Oscar to try the dark pots: Itsuki and Crow’s being red, whereas joe and ace’s being black. All of a sudden Rouge has also come back from whatever he was doing in the city, leaving a very perplexed Gran, and an angry Victor and Noah. Oscar tries both but the first is terrible, and the second just tastes weird (is this goldilocks?); Crow defends himself by asking if this is not the taste of rare and ancient cuisine. But no later than he speaks, Cuit walks in with a third pot, containing a golden coloured soup. Obviously it’s amazing. The DN duo says that technically the others’ rating was “terrible”, whereas theirs is “weird”, meaning they technically won the challenge. Regardless, they don’t feel as happy as they thought they would, because, as Emma points out, this is not their real dream (she says that despite them being villains, she really liked the look in their eyes). Oscar admits approaching them not for their cooking skills but for their anger. They realise that what the others are saying is right and that they are destined to fight evil with evil. Before leaving Joe turns to Emma and tells her that although he was flattered at her “love confession” (which never happened), he cannot accept her feelings yet (Emma:”i somehow got dumped!!!”).

(Some sort of flashback i think?) Rouge tells Gran how kind Emma is to everyone, even someone like him. The fact that the others consider him as family makes him a bit uncomfortable and he thinks he doesn’t really deserve it, especially since he doesn’t believe in the “ fundamentals” (?) of people. However, Gran points out, he still mindful of them which is why he doesn’t say anything about it. Rouge cannot bring himself to tell those kids that there is a traitor among us (amogus…).

The DN duo is leaving; Emma tries to inform them of something but Joe is like “no I’m sorry I can’t be with you even if you try to stop me we cannot be together. I have something to do. Blah blah blah”. The truth was that actually Cuit had invited all of them to the guild’s top famous restaurant. There, he manages to guess what everyone wants to eat specifically without them saying anything at all. Everyone pretty much starts eating like animals since Cuit’s food is so good. Even Victor, who normally speaks in a very polite and kind of effeminate way goes “BRO WHAT THE HELL THIS IS SO FUC- i mean! How delicious^^!”. Kuchen brings in some chocolates he made with the super spicy magma cacao, telling Emma that the smile on her face when eating these chocolates is the cutest and most honest until now. Oscar walks in, apologising for not being able to show his gratitude better. He notices Kuchen’s chocolates and tells him to use no additives next time, just make it 100% spicy (kuchen:”YOU’LL DIE LIKE THAT??” But of course he accepts the challenge from Oscar). Oscar then turns to Cuit, informing him that the course menu he proposed the other day is to be served to the next trilateral talks under direct request of his majesty. Oscar and Walter pretty much run away after this because after the Grand Ball happened the avalanche of work that was put off is now cascading on top of them like crazy. Cuit feels sorry that they can’t help him in any way and he wishes that they had a guild keeper, hinting at Emma. He lets her know that since Oscar went through the trouble of coming all the way here to bid farwell to them, he must’ve surely taken a liking to her.

The time to go to Woodland has come, and the moonroad has appeared without delay. Victor is to return to Grayland, and Rouge appears to be leaving as well (“the winds are calling for me! Being a wandering poet is toughhh-“ Noah:”then just fly to the ends of the world.”). He says he’s joking, there’s something he actually needs to look into, though he promises he’ll come rushing to help them when they’re in a pinch. We find out through the conversation that he has with Victor after the others leave that Rouge is actually going to Record as he has business with the federation. While the others are walking and talking to each other on the moon road, Navi appears from the key and informs Emma that the black fairy they captured in record, the one that had been asleep all along, has just woken up. Emma is engulfed by a white light and the black fairy tells her that he has awakened due to her powers of purification growing stronger. Then he disappears and when Emma returns to normal, nobody but Navi can see her. The scene cut to Testament commenting how the Awakening has started.

[sincerelystesichorus]

astarion, anne carson, & autobiography of red - small character study blurb

In which I've written 40k words of Astarion character analysis fanfiction and I'm definitely still normal.

Astarion used to be blue, but ever since that night two centuries ago, he was reborn red. And he had spent at least the past century thinking that red was irreplaceable. It was – red, it was in his blood and the little blood Cazador would let him wring from rats, corroded and stained. His very life force. He was Cazador’s, his spawn, his jewel, his ruby. There was no cure for red. Not until you became the successful means to an end. He had been sure of it. Being red wasn’t good. It made everyone who wasn’t red, and that felt like most everyone, stare at you like you put off a certain aura… like they knew you were a monster that could only act off of instinct and emotion. And it was so frustrating, because parts of Astarion were blue still, knew what was better, but they were nothing in comparison to the suffocation of red. The emotions, and especially anger, fear, came on so strong. It was hard not to act on them, to test out what the boundaries of pure action were. Astarion knew the color and impulse all too well.

I expand way more on the idea of people as colors within my writing than Autobiography of Red does, where Geryon is the only one who is red. This further pushes Geryon's feelings of being separated from humanity in his narrative, but there's a lot of inherent evil and fucked up things within Faerun so I felt expanding on colors and specifically shades/hues was a better way to communicate this for Astarion.

Geryon's red is tied very instinctually to emotion though, and so representing red as a chaotic force of emotion in my fic didn't feel like too far a step. I took a lot of inspiration from Magic: the Gathering's color pie lol. While you never get an exact description of what's wrong with Geryon, you get a lot of the symptoms, reminiscent of some sort of innate childhood mental illness, on top of the obvious trauma present in his story.

Back to Astarion, though. I've just never not been able to code him with CPTSD, I think that's obvious, but I also know that poor bastard has a personality disorder skffkjdf. The game always hammers in he has no sense of self outside of his looks, which he can't even be sure of because he can't see himself. Astarion has to work his confidence and self-image off of memories of his body and face from two centuries ago, and from his master's word. Cazador has assigned him to this seduction role (or, I feel its at least implied that Astarion was ultimately forced into it because he was seen as the Szarr runt, he was pretty and easy to push around, and I'm also pretty sure Petras has a line about getting to eat dogs now and then?) and Astarion fulfills it because it's all he can do. All he feels good for. His actions aren't his own for two hundred years, and in a morbid way of coping with constant sexual trauma, he functions off of "Well, at least I'm pretty," but even that assumption comes from Cazador's rule.

Astarion had decided he was mostly pure red, splashes of black and blue coming in, bright and visible. The remnants of his past and an even deeper level of Cazador’s corruption, bruising his psyche.

Carson is again sparing with other color imagery as to fully emphasize Geryon feeling like this big red monster, but I love this little excerpt on fearful anger.

Black/shadow is already a strong force and theme within the game so it was easy to work with, acknowledging it as a sort of staining evil. Astrion has his later lines about how he never stopped viewing himself as Cazador's slave, and I think showing that corruption is obviously important. He's hurt but can still heal (as opposed to an ascended Astarion... who I have little if any hope for sdfkjdskf).

Cazador had spent the last two centuries branding it into his skin and mind, breaking his psyche to the point Astarion was worried there’d always be little cracks that remained. That he’d always be Cazador’s wilted poppy, ashamed and folding in on himself, his neck miserably drooped aside for the taking. 

Cazador is Astarion's Herakles, and I think that metaphor works even better considering that whole little side lore with Vellioth in the ruins. Herakles kills Geryon because he must, Geryon is a way for Herakles to ultimately reach a life free of consequence, but it's not like Herakles is innately malicious in the act. He is hardened after already facing so many labors and the trauma that was forced on him by Hera that induced his journey in the first place.

Cazador wants power, some part of him is probably truly convinced he's easier on his spawn than Vellioth was to him (a lot of insults to Astarion are about his feelings and "whining", Cazador feels vindicated in his trauma and is far gone), and sacrificing Astarion is simply a part of that journey. There is no world where their destinies do not intertwine. Geryon will always be pierced by Herakles, and Astarion wouldn't be the Astarion we know without being pierced by Cazador (and without his ultimate decision to finally separate himself from him, or to become him.) Astarion, understandably, will never not feel some sort of shame or agony over this moment, from natural emotions and I'm sure years of Cazador victim-blaming him. He consented to Cazador's help that night after all, didn't he? (And we simply won't acknowledge the coercion.)

Astarion’s attempts to prolong the inevitable were shattered by thick layers of stone suddenly slamming in front of his face, muffling sound and casting him into a void. He could hardly hear Cazador’s foul laugh as he departed. Astarion waited all night for Cazador to return. And then all of the next day, and the next one after that. Days became weeks. Weeks became months. Astarion started to agree that dying would have been easier. More peaceful. He had pondered hundreds of ways to attempt to kill himself while stuck in this abyss, the voices that had started developing only giving further inspiration, but it was impossible. He was sure.  All he could do was wait. Beat and claw at the stone around him. Curse. Repeat. Sometimes he'd wonder. If he'd ever get out of here. If Cazador would remember after forgetting. If this would be his forever. The voices began to recite to him again. Just how long eternity can be.

I think this is the greatest and most obvious similarity between these two, within Carson's retelling. Geryon feels somehow trapped and doomed by the narrative from his early childhood, and receives some blunt confirmation of it when he faces early sexual abuse. This affects his entire life, his early relationships. Geryon can't be older than ten in this excerpt, but knows the pain of isolation because of his trauma and for feeling different.

Astarion was plucked up by Cazador right out of law school. While for us it's not all that young, for elves he was fiercely immature, basically just starting to come into himself at his first big-boy job. Astarion was likely raised with a lot of privilege that also made him a bit more naive, his book smarts not meeting street smarts, which has him meet his end. In his undeath, that basically flips, Astarion plays his manipulation games and indulges in petty crime and seduction, unable to dedicate himself to studies. He reads and he's witty, but can you imagine the Astarion we know as a judge? It's giving Divorce Court. It's giving Judge Judy. (Honestly maybe that's what got him whacked in the first place.)

Astarion is already constrained to what Cazador lets him be as a slave. He's less than a person, and his own body is one of his greatest trauma sources.

All of this, to be punished so supremely when making an act of slight self-preservation. Astarion wanting to maintain some of his principles and let someone go. It becomes his greatest regret, his worst and most defining punishment. It's how Cazador breaks him.

I restructure some of the circumstances within my fic, as to better tie in the main romance, but it still functions as a punished act of self-preservation for Astarion. I'm also sure most people are familiar with the pain that solitary confinement can bring, but if not, it's genuinely inhumane and dehumanizing. Lack of stimulation is extremely damaging to the psyche, I wrote in Astarion breaking into psychotic episodes while enclosed, but even in game, he speaks about going catatonic. I'm sure minorly from exhaustion after fighting, but also from the isolation. His mind likely just drifted and dissociated beyond belief, and I can't imagine it. This is my favorite piece of Astarion's story we are given, it really is just so pivotal and heartbreaking, to be punished for having freewill in the most objectifying circumstances.

In summary to Astarion Ancunin I just sorta feel like this I guess...

ddfsdfdk but yeah just emo about my poor boy feeling so weird and disconnected yet so drowned in his own emotions you know...

[my homage to autobiography of red, fic series page, my ao3 page]

[windvexer]

@rose-colored-tarot

to finally get around to your Q regarding attempting to develop psychism versus it developing naturally!

I went through a period where I did try to intensely activate/awaken/tap into psychism. I'm talking 2-3+ hours of practice a day for a period of several weeks.

Ultimately I had to stop because I started developing very worrying psychological symptoms (exploding head syndrome, visual and auditory hallucinations).

But to be completely honest, I have no idea whether or not those techniques actively did anything except make my brain fucky for a while! So in reference to all the "forcing open" of psychic senses everyone was doing a few years ago, yeah, don't recommend it.

My practice now is very pragmatic. I intend to do things with real, tangible results. Staring into a black mirror trying to visualize apples rotating in separate directions is a thing you can do, sure. But what good is it to be able to see a spinning apple in your mind's eye?

The truth is I have no metric I measured as far as my own verifiable results before and after this period. I was also doing a lot of other things that likely contributed to my development as well.

I do believe that psychism is essentially a muscle. Not everyone automatically develops it even when they practice, because not all practices rely on psychism and so those muscles may not develop.

Right now I think the best way to develop psychism (or any supernatural ability) is for a person to consider what end results they want to end up with. For example, some people want to be able to talk to spirits. Other people want to be able to see the energy they're working with, etc. And once that end goal is in mind, I think it benefits a person to just try to do it.

Like, if you, Reader, want to see spirits, just try. If you have no idea how to try, find a 101 exercise and try it. If you don't know if there are spirits around for you to see, learn to find them or call them. Try lots of techniques, give them an honest go, and then break down what works or doesn't work and try something else. Give yourself time to learn techniques but also time for your own muscles to grow and adapt.

Only in that sense do I think psychism happens as you practice. I think if people never try to develop those senses then they rarely will spontaneously develop, even in tandem with other magical skills.

All of the above being said, I do think random techniques probably helped me learn to navigate my own brainspace and gave me handy tools to use later on. But I don't know how useful any of them were in and of themselves.

[melmedardasworld]

Bonnie's funeral was months ago, so how come Klaus finds her in New Orleans?

Klaus suddenly stopped mid-stride of the masses. He tilted his head as if listening to something, but his preternatural senses zeroed in on the mystical energy nearby. The air was charged with it. Klaus couldn't put his finger on the familiarity of the mystic signature, but it was, without a doubt, magic. His thoughts drifted to Mystic Falls, but he locked the bleak recollection.

Klaus slithered between the crowd and dissolved from the people. He let his senses guide him toward the one who dared to ignore Marcel's rules. This witch was either desperate, a fool, or both. Klaus hadn't discovered his sire's secret weapon, but he would find out. New Orleans was his home in the past, yet Marcel acquired everything Klaus had yearned for centuries. Klaus clenched his jaw as an irrational fury simmered within before speeding off.

Klaus's skin rose in goosebumps when he rounded the corner of the side alley. The dense magic sucked in all the warmth and compacted it within this area alone as a steep cold. When the witch fell in sight, Klaus's arctic blue eyes dimmed like flinty beads. His body immediately locked out of instinct at the impossible symptom. Vampires didn't experience cold, let alone having that sensation manifest into goosebumps. Klaus watched the witch with narrowing eyes. Voluptuous inky-black coils pulled back and cascaded down a slender back. She was crouched in front of a salt pentagram on the floor with a hand hovering above.

The slow grin twisting near the corners of his mouth manifested a sinister overtone around Klaus. "You know that people around here have died for less?" Besides lowering her hand from the salt circle, the nameless witch didn't turn. "Yet here you are, breaking the one rule that has so many of your kind quaking with fear. It is quite bold of you to call upon your executioner." Klaus mused lazily, "I have a sibling with similar self-mutilating tendencies. As a good brother, I put him out of his misery with a dagger, and now he enjoys eternal sleep." Klaus tilted his head and asked, "shall I extend the mercy by offering you a quick death or let Marcel torture you instead?"

A soft sigh left her mouth, but she finally rose. Klaus kept a well enough distance that was perfect for offense and defense if needed. This witch expected- no, she wanted to be found, and an itching underneath Klaus's gums told him this act was deliberate. His fury spiked. The dark veins around his eyes rippled to life. "You dare lure me here, witch?! I already told your pathetic coven that I not will be commanded or manipulated!"

"It's not surprising that you think the world revolves around you." Klaus tensed, not by what she said but by who said it. Klaus followed her movements with eyes that slowly stretched as they drank in her presence. The intensity of her viridian eyes was the first thing that garnered his attention. Tension twisted at the base of Klaus's gut, and his breath quivered. Questions jostled through his mind, but all Klaus intended to ask was enunciated as a name he didn't think he'd ever utter again.

"Bonnie?"

☽🔮☾

Six months ago

The path was brief but felt long and heavy. Klaus's feet led him through the family burial ground. Stone-faced, he stopped in front of the recent tombstone. Klaus did his best to ignore the weight cementing itself in his bones. The ceremony was small and with family and friends. Klaus wasn't invited, but he watched the funeral proceeding, with a dark face, from the shadows.

Klaus Mikaelson lived for 1000 years. For centuries he never cared for anything. Yet, here he was, like a sentimental fool showing respect to the dead. This death didn't need to but did because of blinding loyalty and a lack of preservation. Klaus clenched the bouquet when his eyes finally swept along the name carved into the stone by her estranged parents.

Bonnie Sheila Bennett.

A breeze kicked the fallen leaves around Klaus. He raised his head, and an unlikely shiver crept along his skin. There was nothing there, but Klaus felt the wisps of magic. However, it didn't ease the scraping against his chest. No melancholy or peace settled. Klaus became restless as he stared at Bonnie's name. "This accursed town should count itself lucky that it will be spared from my wrath. You needn't worry, little witch, as you did your part." Bonnie did more than that. The words left an acrid aftertaste in his mouth. "I will do mine and leave Mystic Falls. Be proud, Bonnie Bennett. You successfully chased me out of this horrible place and saved the ingrates who didn't deserve you or your power." His mouth twisted, and a scowl blossomed. Bonnie Bennett would no longer be a thorn in his side. Ironically, there was no joy in saying these words to a dead enemy. "You prevented the prophecy hell from being unleashed upon the earth, your father and Jeremy live once more, you cured your mother, and your friends are safe." When the wind and Bonnie's magic settled, Klaus bent through his knees and set the flowers down. He ran a hand over the stone with wonder. "You can be at peace, little witch."

☽🔮☾

Klaus wasn't sure how long he stared, but his wide-eyed shock prompted an unimpressed frown from Bonnie. Despite the many questions ringing through his mind and the chaotic emotions rearing, Klaus's reaction was an explosion of raw impulse. In a split second, he sped forward to attack her. His sudden action caught Bonnie off-guard. The impact of the brick wall colliding with her back shuddered down her spine, and a firm grip squeezed down her windpipe. Through her glower, Klaus's distorted face drew closer and yelled, "you dare fool me with parlor tricks?!"

Bonnie's magic thrust outward to protect its mistress. The shockwave of pure mystic energy belted into the solid threat. Klaus propelled back like a puppet pulled back by its strings. He crashed into the concrete surface but swiftly picked himself up, ready to charge against this cheap illusion.

Bonnie stretched her arms, palms facing the ground, and flicked them down. Klaus howled when the force of her power brought him to his hands and feet by fracturing his bones. Bonnie coldly watched how he wrestled to break free. His double fangs were ready to tear through flesh like some frenzied beast. "The more you struggle, the easier it is for me to keep you down and break your bones."

"Then make sure to keep me subdued for your safety." Klaus sneered, his golden glower never breaking contact with her green irises. His face twitched heavily, but it wasn't just from the witch's dense power keeping him bound. She dared to bait him with her face and perceive it as his weakness?! "Is this your coven's grand plan? Luring me to the city to do your dirty work failed, so now you con me with the face of a dead enemy, proving again that all who stand against me turn into dust." Klaus ran his nails along the broken stone and swallowed the growl of pain when he pushed against gravity, pushing him down with each toil to rise.

Bonnie raised a brow before a snort left her mouth. "First of all, this is all me. I'm not part of the French Quarter Coven." Bonnie lowered her arms to her sides and started to walk. Bonnie's extraordinary power still subdued Klaus. "But having them lure you to New Orleans was my idea. I convinced them you'd be the perfect smokescreen in this war. I was right." Bonnie smiled and tilted her head. "Given your history with Marcel, knowing how power-hungry you are and your habit of taking things that aren't yours, you're the perfect distraction." The longer Klaus listened, the more the veins in his face rippled. The arteries near his temple stood out against his distorted features. The low rumble in his chest was feral and on the wrong side of sanity or reason.

Bonnie closed the distance, crouched through her knees, and crossed her arms over them. She rested her chin on her hand while staring at the fuming Klaus. "Just to be clear, I am the enemy that came out on top after going against you." Bonnie said the following words with such nonchalance that it took Klaus a moment to register them, "lastly, the funeral was fake, Klaus. I was very much alive and have been this whole time." The revelation stuttered Klaus's thoughts to an abrupt halt.

If you haven’t read Witch Bargain, please do. It’s related to the prose that I have in mind of Bonnie in New Orleans and getting involved in the war between the vampires and witches.

Happy Holidays!🎄

[theproperweirdo]

Ramblings and analysis [part 1]

Scarlet | The Arcane Shadow

My long time favourite character in AFK Arena since I started playing has been Scarlet ❤️ her backstory is killer and I feel like her design is detailed and enhances her personality even more using these details you really have to look into

To start, her past! Please skip the next two paragraphs if you know her story 👍

Scarlet’s mother (who I’ll call Ms. Laurence for convenience) raised her from a baby to around what I assume was preteen age. Their family carries a maternal “curse” of psychological torment and dark energy. Scarlet’s grandma had previously killed herself during an opera performance, after being driven insane by the voices she heard. Ms. Laurence wanted Scarlet to overcome this curse, and have her become a respectable woman like her own mom. Scarlet? Not so much. And although she loved her very much, Ms. Laurence didn’t get to see Scarlet’s future. She spiralled into insanity as well, and was taken to a mental institution.

Scarlet was taken to the Violet Orphanage afterwards, which could have a very long post on its own. 💀💀 While there, she tried and failed multiple times to escape. She felt like something was off about the strange people and weird tests they did. After having enough of her midnight missions, they started to amp up the tests in intensity and aggression, in either magical or physical ways. During one of these tests she passes out, and in the haze of her consciousness, she receives the last wishes from the spirit of her mother, before coming too. Once she’s awake, she makes her last attempt to escape— by burning the entire orphanage to the ground.

Her past is tragic. She’s stuck with a curse that’s taken both her mom and grandma, then used as a lab rat til she has a mental break. But there’s so much more to analyze! (Wowwww)

Her family’s curse is one described as one of “madness,” that blurs reality and fantasy. In a setting like this, it seems to be some kind of arcane affliction passed from mother to daughter.

However, there’s the obvious subliminal implication of her curse— that it’s a genetic mental illness. Although disorders are not often hereditary, they’re still most commonly seen in an individual when a direct family member has the same one. For Scarlet and her family, this sounds like a long line of women who have schizophrenia. Hearing voices like auditory hallucinations, erratic behaviour, and having extreme delusions, are the most prominent and aggressive symptoms. Scarlet’s grandma took her life after losing the ability to differentiate between real and imaginary. Scarlets mother became overwhelmed by her delusions. Before burning down the orphanage, Scarlet herself begins to hear voices and monsters. Now on her own, she doesn’t want to become what her mother and grandmother did.

She also possibly fights her own hallucinations better because she had to reassure her mother when she was young. She probably never met her grandma though.

As a violent and dangerous curse, it’s effective and seems to stem from some older power. But I think this reflection of mental illness in women is powerful and incredibly well written for a character in a mobile gacha RPG game.

Okay, that’s on her story! Now for an artist’s eye on her design… let’s move top to bottom.

Scarlet’s hair is visually more black with streaks of red highlights. But we know from the description of her mother, along with her 4koma-style comic, that she had a full head of red hair.

The red itself is said to be a sign of the curse in her story. Seeing that the black has come and overtaken it in her recent years, I think it’s meant to represent her own hold on her sanity. Scarlet’s mother still has (I assume) all her hair red when she’s taken away. The black in her hair might be her own control on the chaos magic, and how she’s managed to harness it.

Or, the black came through as an awakening of sorts. It comes in the climax of her grand escape, when she seemingly inherits the destructive power of the curse. If her mother didn’t manage to fully grasp any control over her own magic, maybe she never had the same moment of magic-puberty as scarlet. So maybe this magic changes her both mentally and physically, leaving a few remnants of the red, because even though she’s improving, the curse will never stop its assault on her. Either way, it’s a physical tell of how her magic has changed her.

Her clothes seem to be a personal choice for herself. At six years old, Scarlet rejected any kind of fancy teachings or proper dresses. She was likely just a young girl who had her own preferences and didn’t like the suffocating atmosphere of noble life. But her mother’s most sincere wish for her was to see her grow into a distinguished and elegant lady like her grandmother.

I imagine she had a lot of time to think and reflect on her memories in the Violet Orphanage. Her mother loved her genuinely and dearly, and they were separated in the end because of their shared curse. I imagine she would remember the one thing her mom wanted to see most in her. The dress and corset were probably picked out herself because she wants to fulfill the one thing her mom wanted. :( even though she hates dressing up, she wants to make her mom proud in this way. The makeup and heels are probably for the same reason.

Her armour and signature item are both made of this gold coloured metal, but her shoulder guards got some red by the edges.

The one other character with the same kind of armour is Morrow, the only other in game person who was a victim as the Violet Orphanage (aside from Isabella and Silvina).

They were kept there in different periods of time, but it’s obviously not a coincidence that they’re the only ones who share this design motif.

These are the Signature Item descriptions for both Morrow and Scarlet ⬇️⬇️

Both for controlling dark magic! However, the origin of Scarlet’s item says that it was formed during her destruction of the Violet Orphanage. Also the gold armour is on Morrow’s arms and not his book. Scarlet is the same, she’s got it on her shoulder guard, but not the stabilizer. My theory is that it’s either 1. A material they used in the orphanage to conduct experiments on the kids using dark magic, and they both now use to to chanel their own magic and cast spells. 2. It’s a normal kind of metal, but the red shading comes from use of dark magic. That would explain why both of their armour has it.

Either way, it’s a very cool detail! :) other things I’ve noticed are:

Her attacks have the possibility of hitting allied heros. I interpret it as her magic still being unstable and hard to control. She’s got her sanity and magic under control, but not completely.

There’s no clear distinction between “dark magic” and “hypogean magic” so it’s possible she controls some variation of void realm arcanum, or a hypogean cursed her bloodline and she now channels its energy instead of suffering from it.

She looks considerably older than Isabella. Makes sense considering the timeline, but makes me a lil sad.

Anyways, that’s the end of this long ass post. Hopefully more to come in the future (if I remember)

Til next time 🫣🫣

[ghostcrows]

That being said I do wanna talk about something here because I feel like people here might get it more than other places

I'm really sort of grappling with I guess actually accepting that I heavily exhibit BPD symptoms and have for years, like to the point that regardless of my feelings toward that diagnosis and who gives it out and their reasons for it - and despite my reservations toward any type of official diagnosis -AND despite feeling like I prematurely diagnosed myself as a teen and then avoiding the label altogether - I just want to treat the symptoms so that things can get better.

It's very isolating. I feel things incredibly intensely. It doesn't just go away it rattles my whole body physically for days or weeks. When I get attached to people it becomes unbearable for me and eventually, almost inevitably, for that person too

I struggle with what I think must be splitting, where...I think it's not quite as black and white as splitting is presented as where I absolutely hate someone or I absolutely love someone, but it's very close. Usually it's this conflicting mess of both at the same time, this very ugly place where resentment (founded or unfounded) meets complete idolization. It's not a position anybody deserves to be put in and I try to keep it to myself but, it's hard to hide intense feelings. People can usually tell when you're acting moody and weird even if you think you've got a good handle on it. And its incredibly overwhelming

And of course I've got abandonment issues lol...kind of the root of the whole thing right...and of course it becomes self fulfilling prophecy you know how that is...very annoying. Very unfair

And...I can be meaner than I like to think I'm capable of...it's usually a subtle thing but that's probably honestly worse. It's the kind of mean where I can even convince myself I'm not really being mean..but I am. Like. I'm certainly not being nice...and it comes from honestly usually just not knowing how to communicate that I'm in some weird fucking mood. When you tell people you're in a mood a lot of the time they're like oh whats up what's wrong and sometimes yeah you can talk about it to feel better but sometimes there's just nothing. You're just in some damn ass mood. It has not much to do with anything. And when you're in those moods it's hard to be around people and not be irritable and nasty. But it's also hard to be alone with it. And if you isolate you start to feel like a monster who needs to be locked up so that you don't hurt anybody. It's difficult to constantly be in some weird headspace that alienates you from other people.

And im impulsive in like...not quite as extreme ways as severe BPD but I have been there before where I was doing some of those things. It's more things like sending people 20000 texts a second or just like Reacting without stepping away and then having things immediately escalate. Getting to where I'm angry enough that I break things and i hurt myself. Not being able to sit with an unpleasant feeling. Not being able to handle criticism or rejection well

All of that to say... that it is a struggle and it's something I'm looking for good resources on. I'm trying out some self help DBT workbooks to see if that does anything for me. I don't know if I want to try CBT again I don't know how much it helped before but I know most therapists do CBT now ... I keep hearing about EMDR as some magical fuckin miracle treatment but I still barely know what it is. I'm not currently interested in being on medications but I'm not 100 percent against it either. Im at a crossroads with the very idea of therapy where I do think I need it but I also don't know how much it can realistically do for me or if I can find somethijg or someone that works for me. And also I can't afford it rn lol.

So um, if you struggle with this sort of stuff too just like feel free to DM me because I'd really like to talk about it with people who get it. And if you have anything that has helped you with these types of symptoms please feel free to share it. I will look into it

[theblackcubeofdarkness]

-ASF Notice-

[Situation Update]

The unknown pathogen spreading through Earthbread's south west coast has been active for the last couple days and we regret to inform you it has not improved. Several ASF sites have gone dark and the infection seems to be expanding. The following research notes have been made.

For context the infection collectively designated as ASF Recorded Phenomenon (or ARP) 492A. The infection can be spread via many vectors one being 492A-β hereby dubbed Eyes. They appear through rips in reality and are described as looking like a animated white eye symbol. If damages enough the rip will shrink and the eye will dissipate. More eyes are likely to appear in places with already existing Eyes. Looking directly at the Eyes increase the likelihood of a living thing losing focus and becoming distracted seemingly getting lost in thought which some have described as sort of like brain frog. This state can be broken rather easily by the subject being distracted by something such as a nudge or a moving object.

However the longer a subject is in this state while looking at an Eye the more entranced they will be. If the subjects state does not change for 10 seconds they will become infected. Please note that this is not spread merely on sight and simply looking at an Eye will not infect you with the viewer have to be in the induced distracted state in order to be infected making those who are impulsive, mentally ill, lose thought often, or weak minded to be more susceptible to infection. Music has been shown to help break a person out of the trance like state depending on how much the volume changes throughout the song.

While some infected subjects immediately show symptoms it appears to have an incubation period of an currently unknown amount of time. Symptoms include:

- Slight drowsiness.

- A growing desire to experience dreams.

- Variating levels of anxiety when not asleep.

- Parts of the body being covered in small patches of an unknown substance that seems to visibly glitch.

- A sudden philosophical interest in dreams.

- An inability to experience nightmares.

- Perceptual and auditory hallucinations usually of laughter, voices, or momentary glimpses of 492A-α.

Please note that while the listed symptoms have been recorded they are not always present along with the possibility of more symptoms of which are unconfirmed.

After the incubation period has ended the subject will enter a state of REM sleep regardless of status before (It should be noted that coffee and other stimulant's seem to extend the incubation period and if used immediately upon collapse can temporarily cure it with varying degrees of success). In this state patches of an unknown black substance (The same of which that was mentioned in the above symptoms) will begin to grow on the subject with eyes appearing at varying distances from each other on said black substance (While they share the visual description of Beta instances their range of influence and effect are greatly diminished). After this the subject has become what has been designated a 492A-γ instance. 492A-γ instances can be harmed if hit in a non corrupted spot but the wound will quickly heal presumably by 492A-α. 492A will use the subjects physical properties such as wings, organs that produce magic, claws, and other biological features to its advantage creating specific mutations with the appropriate features. Some have reported while in close proximity Gamma instances hearing incoherent whispering and clicking sounds. Currently no cure has been found.

Research is in its infancy and updates will be shared upon discovery and compilation.

If you have any questions please inquire them to the @asf-official-helpline. Operators are standing by.