#I feel like a child who's trying to build something but it collapses to the ground

[radioisntdead]

My headphones broke and I am GOING TO SCREAM I'm getting a replacement soon but it's still annoying especially since these are GOOD headphones [they're like 30 bucks on sale, which Christmas deals are coming in CLUTCH] and I'm the type of person that needs some type of sound in my ear or I can't focus properly and will just ZONE out

[wososcripts]

Face to Face (Part 1)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader

Summary: After months of a toxic back and forth with Frido, things reach a breaking point.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I know it's been forever but that's what being a full time uni student will do! I hope you all enjoy this fic as much as I do, its been a wip for a while now!

As usual this is all fiction and in good fun! Nothing is meant to represent reality. All italicized dialogue is in a language other than English, and I promise... things will get better in this fic eventually.

Warnings⚠️: unhealthy situationship lol, injury, light medical description

"Get out!" You screamed, repeating it over and over until you were alone in your bedroom.

You hated yelling. Absolutely hated it. You couldn't remember the last time before today that you had actually yelled in someone's face. Plenty of people in your sport lost their tempers and shouted on the pitch—whether at a ref or another player—but it wasn’t your style. You always managed to keep your cool. It was your sport, yes, but not your life.

You'd been yelled at too much as a child to think it had any productive effect on a situation, which may have been part of why you immediately felt horrible once Fridolina left the room. You pulled your comforter around your half-naked form, wishing you were less exposed.

This was the end. Whatever you and Fridolina had, it was over. Finally.

You'd been trying to build up the will to make this happen for weeks, and yet your heart felt like it was being strangled with every moment you sat here alone. The worst part was, you knew Fridolina didn't care. She was probably angry, sure, but she was not feeling the heartbreak you were.

You weren't sure how you were going to make it through the next few days. You had to fly to Germany tomorrow for national camp—and then on Friday you were playing Sweden in a friendly. It was hard to imagine that you had been excited to get the news about the friendly last month. It meant you got to be around Frido more, got to see a few of your old teammates from Chelsea like Magda and Zećira, and you genuinely enjoyed being around the German girls. It was still home to you, there, even if you hadn't played for a German league in nearly a decade.

Now you just wanted to stay in Barcelona while Frido left. You wanted to call Alexia, or Patri, and ask them to come over and comfort you. You wanted Patri’s jokes and Alexia’s solid presence, but you were afraid of the questions they might ask. Your eyes were red now, tears running down your face, and your room was a mess. Everything had a trace of Frido, and you hated it.

Ingrid and Mapí, who you would usually call if you wanted to get your mind off of things, weren’t an option either. Though you were fairly certain they wouldn’t ask any pressing questions, Ingrid was Frido’s best friend. And that made her off limits for now, for anything regarding this.

You just had to make it through the night, and the next morning. Then you could collapse into the familiar arms of your national teammates, your family, your language, and try to forget all about this.

—

Your mother knew something was off the second you appeared on her doorstep, Laura in tow.

She wrapped her arms firmly around you, holding you tight for a minute. It had been three months since you were home for Christmas, and you hadn’t seen each other since then. You melted into her, wanting nothing more than the comfort of her protective embrace after all that had been swimming around your head lately.

Your mother greeted Laura next, and you were instructed to bring your bags up to the guest room. You’d have to share, but it wasn’t all that big of an issue. You and Laura often shared rooms when you were at national camp anyway, so this wouldn’t be much different.

“Wie ist Barcelona? Gefällt es? ” Laura asked you quietly that night, rolling over in the bed to face you.

It was late, too late to still be up. Tomorrow you’d have to be at training bright and early.

“I love it there.”

Something about your voice must have been off, because Laura stayed silent. You knew she fretted over you. She was protective too, something you experienced first hand when people were rough with you on the field—Laura hated most of your exes too. You’d known each other since secondary school, when you were barely tall enough to reach the top of your lockers.

“I’ve always wondered if it’s difficult, fitting in with the Spanish girls…”

“And I’m shy, which doesn’t make it easier.”

Laura laughed lightly.

“Well I wasn’t going to say anything!”

You poked her side playfully, and smiled.

“They’re all very welcoming. It can be intimidating when you don’t speak Spanish at first, but I’m pretty good now so I don’t have many issues.”

Laura began playing with strands of your long hair, putting it in small braids.

“What is it, Lau?”

“I can tell something is bothering you. In your texts, the way you looked when I picked you up at the airport, something is off.”

You weren't sure what to say. Laura didn't know anything about you and Frido. Nobody did. You'd have to explain the whole thing, start to finish. You'd have to explain why you stayed even when she treated you like garbage. Why you made excuses for her, compromised things you told yourself you wouldn't.

"It's hard to explain…" you mumbled.

Laura continued to play with your hair, pushing a few wisps back from your forehead.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

You needed an ally in this, you realized. Desperately.

"Just be prepared, it's kind of a long story."

And so you launched into how you and Frido had been attracted to each other immediately when she was playing at Bayern and you were at Frankfurt. How you had danced around each other when you were signed in Barcelona. How she kissed you one day after a game, before she was even out of her relationship, and then ignored you for weeks—a pattern you didn't realize was going to dominate your life for the next year.

By the end you were crying. You hadn't cried in so long it felt foreign. Everything had been building up for months and nobody had been there to help you carry the weight of it until that moment.

Laura pulled you into her arms, rubbing your back in soothing circles as you sobbed into her neck.

"It's okay, you're okay," she whispered.

"I feel like a fucking idiot."

"She's the idiot for treating you like that, not you. Not you at all." Laura looked at you sternly. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that all by yourself…"

You snuggled closer to her and kept quiet.

"If you need someone to accidentally slide tackle her on Monday let me know…" Laura teased.

You giggled into her hair, and she couldn't help but smile in return.

-

You were nervous. Typically friendlies didn't worry you much, but you didn't want to see Fridolina. You had been playing well in training sessions, but your teammates could tell something was on your mind.

"Hey—" Sara's voice broke you out of your thoughts. The two of you had played together at Frankfurt for a little while, and she was like an older sister to you. She placed both her hands on your cheeks and pressed her forehead to yours. "Whatever it is, put it out of your mind. Leave it here and just play. Just for a few hours."

You closed your eyes and listened to her, letting her voice ground you. You squeezed her hands and nodded. Just a few hours. Then you could avoid Frido for an entire week before you had to fly back to Barcelona.

You assumed your position on the pitch, the roar of the German fans filling your ears. That was the benefit of playing at home. You spotted a few of the Swedish girls you knew: Magda, Zećira, Stina, and Rebecca. All of whom gave you small smiles.

In the few seconds before the match began you closed your eyes, counting down from seven as you always did before a match. Then the whistle blew and you began.

It was a tough match between the two teams. Where the Germans were weak the Swedish girls pounced, and vice versa. You were constantly fighting for the ball, the defenders packed onto you. Stina was the first to score, slipping the ball into the box amidst a chaotic mess just the way she was good at.

From there on out you were determined to score. You were playing all out, more than necessary really. It was a throwaway game, but you just had to get a point on the board.

When your quick pass to Lena had the ball soaring into the back of the net you thought you might explode from joy. You jumped into her arms, letting her twirl you around, laughing. In your head you might as well have won the Olympics.

At halftime it was still 1-1. Your heart was pounding. Laura made you drink some of your water, massaging your shoulders in an effort to get you to calm down. Popp was side eyeing you, considering pulling you out. This behavior wasn't like you.

The second half was considerably more intense than the first. Both teams wanted to score, and the more physical players on both sides were pushing hard. It was a miracle nobody had been carded.

And then suddenly you had the ball at your feet. There was a golden opportunity in front of you. Eyes facing forward, you raced down the pitch, completely blindsided to the weight that slammed into from the side. Suddenly the world went sideways and you were slamming into the ground, not enough time to even think about trying to catch yourself. Your hip and shoulder took most of the initial impact, but something about how you'd been standing, or how you'd been hit, meant your head followed, hitting the ground with a resounding thud.

You came to a few seconds later. Someone was kneeling next to your head, and their hands were on your cheeks.

Fuck. Everything hurt. You kept your eyes closed, thinking maybe that would lessen the next wave of pain you knew was coming. At first you weren't sure what had happened.

"Are you okay?" You heard Zećira's voice in your ear.

"Zećira?" You mumbled. "What happened?"

"You went down and hit your head."

You had gone down near the goal, that was right. Things were a bit blurry. You figured it was a bad idea to move your neck, what with the severe headache you could feel blossoming, and opening your eyes seemed to run the 50/50 chance of you vomiting.

"Do you remember that now? Do you feel okay?"

So you gave her a weak thumbs up, hoping it was clear you needed the medics.

After a moment in which you gathered your resolve and swallowed your nausea, you opened your eyes. There was Zećira looking worriedly down at you. She glanced upwards, probably at the medical team that was surely coming.

"Fuck, fuck…" you heard another voice, those of your German teammates beginning to filter into your awareness. And further away, the sharp sound of yelling.

The medical team finally arrived, clearing the space around you. Your hand shot out, grabbing onto Zećira's you gave her a look that said it all. Fear and panic met in equal amounts as she squeezed your hand lightly.

"You're gonna be okay, älskling, everything is gonna be alright." If anything, her tone scared you even more. You knew Zećira, and she wasn't someone you would describe as warm and cuddly. For her to be using that tone with you meant something had gone wrong.

"Okay, we're gonna sit you up now." The medic warned you, and you felt two pairs of hands rest on your body, one on the back of your neck, slowly pull you upright.

Your nausea came back in full swing, and you fought to keep your breakfast in.

"Can you hear me?" You nodded.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?" You nodded again, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"Can you squeeze my hand?" You squeezed his hand tightly.

"Okay, I'm gonna shine this light in your eyes for a moment, can you try and follow it for me?" You did your best, but it wasn't easy.

"Okay," he put the light away and you thanked whatever God in the universe for that. "We think it's likely you have a pretty bad concussion. We'll have to run a few more tests to be sure, but she definitely has to come off."

He must've been talking to your coach at that point, because the next thing you knew Zećira and the medic were helping you up to your feet, the man supporting you heavily with your arms draped across his shoulders.

"I'll visit you after the match, okay?" You heard Zećira assure you, to which you gave another thumbs up.

You cringed slightly at the sound of the crowd cheering you off.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Heart Still Beating - 3 | Lloyd

Character: Lloyd Hansen x Female!Reader

Summary: After the heart transplant, Lloyd, the heartless killer, started to feel something—something unexpected and powerful that was tied to the fiancé of the heart’s donor.

Words Count : 2916

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , End

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Your legs buckled, vision swimming, but Lloyd was there, steadying you before you collapsed completely.

“They won’t stop until they get this heart.” His gaze hardened, jaw set in determination. “I’ll get rid of them.” He turned to leave, but suddenly his expression twisted in pain. “Urgh…” His hand went to his chest, but as he glanced back at you, the pain dulled, fading.

With a deep breath, he started walking again, only for the pain to slam back into him, sharper this time. Grimacing, he gritted his teeth and forced himself down the hall, each step more agonizing than the last.

Finally, he stumbled back toward you, grabbing your hand without a word. “Stay here. I want to test something.”

Lloyd walked downstairs, testing his distance. At first, his chest felt fine. But the moment he closed a door behind him, the pain flared again, searing and relentless. “Damn it!” he roared, frustration boiling over as he stomped the ground.

The sound drew you and Carmichael out, finding Lloyd with a look of pure aggravation. His gaze shifted to you. “Your fiancé,” he spat, “is such a damn coward. I can’t get more than ten feet from you without this pain kicking in.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, brows knitting in confusion.

“Every time I get further than ten feet from you, it’s like someone’s crushing my chest. How am I supposed to work like this?” His hands gestured in irritation. “I can’t drag you around while I’m out there hunting down these bastards!”

You stiffened. He was absolutely right—there was no way you’d risk following him into that world, putting yourself and your child in danger.

Carmichael, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “What if… you kept her voice with you?”

Lloyd paused, thinking.

“If she keeps talking, it might feel like she’s still beside you, close enough to stop the pain,” Carmichael suggested.

Moments later, you and Lloyd each wore an earpiece. “Can you hear me?” you asked, your voice soft but clear.

Lloyd gave a quick nod, jaw set with determination. “I’ll try leaving the building now.” He pushed himself to walk forward, putting distance between you. But the instant he stepped outside, he sank to his knees, pain tearing through him.

“Lloyd!” Your voice came through the earpiece, urgent, and in a heartbeat, the pain dissolved.

He exhaled, shaky but relieved. “Damn,” he muttered to himself, glancing down at his chest. “It’s working.” He cleared his throat. “Y/N?”

“Yes?” Your voice was a soothing lifeline.

“Keep talking,” he said quietly. “I’m going to finish this, for Justin.”

A swell of gratitude warmed your voice. “Thank you, Lloyd.” You hesitated, then added, “And… please, stay alive.”

He smirked faintly, glancing down. “I’ll protect this,” he murmured, pointing at his chest, a mix of bitterness and resolve in his eyes. “And I’ll protect you.”

💘💘💘💘

The nightclub pulsed with heavy bass, the walls vibrating under the relentless beat of the music. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, booze, and something darker—this was no ordinary club. This was Mr. Cicadas’ den, the very heart of his empire.

Two women perched on Lloyd's thighs, draped over him like jewels. He leaned back, his fingers absently tracing patterns along the rim of his glass as he casually mentioned their boss. “Mr. Cicadas,” he said with a smirk. One of the girls giggled as he raised a face mask to his mouth.

“Going a little kinky?” one of them teased, her smile playful.

Lloyd’s smirk deepened as he produced a small canister. The faint hiss of gas filled the air, making the women leap to their feet, alarm flaring in their eyes. “What… what is that?”

“You want crazy?” Lloyd growled, eyes dark with intent. “I’ll show you crazy.”

With a twist of the valve, a cloud of gas spilled into the air, blanketing the room. The initial effect was breathlessness, confusion. Then came the screams. In seconds, chaos erupted as patrons stumbled over one another, eyes wild and hallucinating, their minds twisted by the haze.

The music was cut off in a jarring silence as armed men surrounded Lloyd, their expressions shifting from shock to rage. One of them, his voice laced with venom, barked, “Who the hell are you?”

Lloyd smirked, eyes gleaming with cold malice. “I’m here for your boss.”

With a swift, almost casual movement, he struck the nearest man, sending him crashing into a table. In an instant, the scene exploded into a brutal fight. The mafiosos lunged at him, but Lloyd moved like a shadow, dodging fists and throwing precise, merciless punches that left them sprawled across the floor.

Each swing, every strike, was sharp, calculated. Lloyd’s face was a mask of concentration as he dispatched his opponents with ruthless efficiency. The men’s grunts of pain and anger filled the air, blending into the chaotic echoes of broken glass and splintering wood.

Meanwhile, you flinched at the sounds over the earpiece—cries of pain, the heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground. You looked at Carmichael, grimacing. “Could you turn down the volume?”

"You know, Lloyd’s not exactly your average man. His world… it’s dark, ruthless." Carmichael’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of caution. "He’s deep in the underworld. Takes on jobs nobody else will touch—cleaning up the messes of the worst people out there, dealing with gangsters, mafias, corrupt politicians. To him, the surface world we live in? It’s like a playground."

You looked up, meeting his gaze, the weight of his words settling in. “I always thought there was something… off about him. But I didn’t realize it was like this.”

Carmichael gave a small nod. “Few people do. Lloyd’s work is invisible to most, but that’s how he survives. It’s how he keeps people in check. This man—he’s seen and done things most of us couldn’t imagine. If he’s in your life, it’s because he’s chosen to be. And you… you’re different to him.”

A lump formed in your throat. His world was so distant, so violent, so entirely at odds with everything you’d ever known. There was no denying it—your life was simple in comparison. You had no place in his brutal reality. Yet, as your thoughts drifted to Justin, to the senseless tragedy of his death, you knew that Lloyd might be the only person capable of delivering the justice Justin deserved.

You exhaled, steadying yourself. “Lloyd’s the only one who can do this, isn’t he?”

Carmichael's expression softened, a hint of understanding in his eyes. “He’s already made it personal. For Lloyd, this is more than just a job now. This is about making things right—however he defines it.”

Just then, Lloyd’s voice crackled through. “I know where he is.”

💘💘💘💘

You and Lloyd slipped into the hospital under the cover of night, the cold sterility of the VVIP ward a stark contrast to the club’s chaotic energy. Inside, the quiet hum of machines and the sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air. As you entered the private room, your eyes fell on a frail, thin man lying on the bed, his body riddled with tubes.

The man’s eyes darted to you both, wide with terror as he recognized the intent in your gaze. He struggled to sit up, hands raised in a pitiful attempt to shield himself. His voice trembled, desperate. “Please… I’ll give you anything. Money… as much as you want. Just… just let me live. I’ll make it worth your while.” His words spilled out in a frantic plea.

You stared down at him, memories of Justin flooding back with bitter intensity. “No amount of money could erase what you’ve done.” You looked at Lloyd, nodding.

Lloyd’s lips curved into a cold, satisfied smirk. He raised his gun, fixing his steely gaze on the trembling man. “With pleasure.”

In one swift motion, he pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the room, and Mr. Cicadas fell back, lifeless, a single bullet through his heart—the same heart he’d so ruthlessly sought.

💘💘💘💘

As the two of you walked down the empty hospital corridor, a profound quiet settled around you. For the first time, a strange sense of peace replaced the heavy anger you had both carried. The man who had taken so much was finally gone, and with that final act of justice, something shifted in the silence between you and Lloyd. Gratitude stirred within you, and finally, you broke the silence.

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with sincerity.

Lloyd stopped mid-step, glancing at you with a mixture of surprise and unease. Gratitude wasn’t something he often encountered in his line of work, let alone after finishing a mission like this. It took him a moment, but he offered a faint, almost hesitant nod.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shrugging as if trying to shake off the weight of the moment. “I got something out of it, too. This heart… it's keeping me alive.”

You met his gaze, feeling a depth in his words that went beyond the physical. Justin’s heart had become part of Lloyd, giving him a second chance at life, and maybe, in a way, it had brought him closer to someone who understood what that gift meant. “It’s more than just the heart, though, isn’t it?” you said softly. “You didn’t have to help me. You could have moved on, done what you always do. But you didn’t.”

Lloyd’s gaze hardened slightly, but not in his usual defensive way. It was almost as if he was trying to mask something softer beneath. “I’m not used to getting thanked. Especially for things like this,” he admitted, his tone quieter, almost vulnerable. “And honestly, I didn’t think it’d feel… different.”

You nodded, understanding more than you’d expected. “Maybe it’s strange to say, but I’m glad it was you who received his heart. I don’t think anyone else would’ve understood what it meant to finish this… to make things right for him.”

For the first time, a genuine, almost bashful smile tugged at Lloyd’s lips. “Well,” he murmured, glancing away as if to gather himself. “I guess I’m not used to having… a purpose, outside of the usual work. But if it helps, I don’t mind sticking around a bit. This heart’s got a few more things left to finish.”

A warmth spread between you, unspoken but understood. You walked side by side, each step building a fragile but real trust, a bond forged by the life that connected you both.

And in that quiet understanding, you felt something new—a partnership, unexpected yet undeniable.

💘💘💘💘

Three months had passed since that fateful day, and the air felt different now. As you lay in the hospital room, exhaustion weighed heavy on your eyelids, yet there was a lightness in your heart that made you feel almost weightless. You glanced down at the tiny bundle cradled in your arms. Luna. The name felt perfect, a gentle reminder of the new beginnings even amidst the shadows of the past.

A nurse approached, her smile soft and reassuring as she gently placed Luna into your arms. The moment you held her close, the weight of loss surged anew—Justin should have been here to see her, to cherish her, to hold her just as you were now. But amid that ache was the undeniable warmth of a new blessing, a life that brought with it hope and love.

Luna’s soft face scrunched up as she let out a wail, filling the room with her cries. You rocked her gently, murmuring soothing words, but nothing seemed to calm her little soul. Your heart ached for her, for the world she had entered, one devoid of her father’s embrace.

Just then, the door swung open, and in stepped Lloyd, a striking figure against the sterile backdrop of the hospital. He carried a vibrant bouquet of flowers and a colorful balloon, a jarring contrast to the hospital’s muted tones. The moment he saw you with Luna, his breath caught in his throat, and he froze for a heartbeat, overwhelmed.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a mix of surprise and warmth. His eyes fell to the small, crying bundle in your arms. “Is that…?”

“Luna,” you replied, a smile breaking through your melancholy as you glanced at him. “Our daughter.”

His heart raced as he took a tentative step closer, a blend of emotions flashing across his face—joy, wonder, and a flicker of anxiety at the sound of Luna’s cries. “Can I… hold her?” he asked, a rare vulnerability lacing his words.

You nodded, carefully passing Luna to him. As he cradled her, a cautious tenderness enveloped them both. The moment she nestled against his chest, Luna’s cries faded to soft whimpers, then silence. Lloyd’s eyes widened in astonishment, and he looked down at her, a mixture of awe and something deeper in his gaze.

“Did she just…?” he began, glancing up at you in disbelief.

You met his eyes, both of you sharing a moment that felt almost sacred. “She knows,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the connection shared between them, the heartbeat of Justin’s heart echoing through her small frame.

Lloyd swallowed hard, emotions welling up in his throat as tears brimmed in his eyes. “I—” he stammered, the words catching in his chest.

As he held Luna close, his tears began to spill over, tracing silent paths down his cheeks. It was a mix of happiness and sorrow—a bittersweet farewell and a joyful hello all at once. “I think Justin finally met her,” he murmured, his voice cracking as he looked back down at Luna. “And now… it’s like he’s leaving, but in a good way. He’s passing the torch.”

You watched as Lloyd’s face transformed, understanding washing over him like a wave. In that moment, the profound significance of new life enveloped the room, binding all three of you in an unspoken promise. “He’d be so proud of her,” you said softly, your heart swelling with emotion.

“Yeah,” Lloyd replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, a smile breaking through the tears. “And I’ll make sure she knows it.”

As Luna cooed softly in his arms, you felt the weight of loss lift just a little. Here, amidst the tears and joy, life had found a way to weave a new tapestry, one rich with love and remembrance, and in that shared moment, you knew you weren’t alone.

The End

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[crustyfloor]

Brain vomit...I am insanely jealous of the people who can get the new merch. And I am planning an elaborate heist. But aside from that, I'm also crazy over the lore implications of the new photo-card designs...

Of course, they're all suffering as per usual. But it's symbolized by cracks in their skin. When I saw that, I immediately linked it back to the collapse of barriers, secrets, structures, etc. The hearts, however, confused me a bit. But I suppose it's because the reason they all "broke" is ultimately because of their love.

This is probably the most distressed Ivan has ever looked in a photo card, and really, he's honest. The tone of his card is sickeningly oversaturated and overwhelming, and his emotions are visceral, I also find it interesting how the cracks are littered all over his face, and the hearts leak out like that from the neck--and Ivan holds his face like he's trying to "fix" it, or in other words, "keep it together" as he's breaking down and becoming vulnerable, he has to cover up his expression behind something more appealing as he always does. He's also wearing his Anakt Garden uniform. When he was a child, he was just learning how to develop his mask. But even then, he faltered sometimes, Ivan's automatic response is always to try to fix it, even if he's underplaying the severity of his feelings, it's what he has to do regardless, I love his card for that portrayal when he tries to keep one wound closed, another wound opens, its erratic and uncontrollable, like his true emotions. When I see him trying, it looks like it's hard because, well--he's breaking down. Normally, you can't just bounce back from that, so in this rare moment, he struggles with how to deal with it. (A certain desperation to keep up the act?) (His eyes. I really like his eyes in this PC, it's more akin to those moments when his true expression comes out, in those very rare moments)

And then there's Till, I feel pain when my wife feels pain. His expression, too, is very overwhelming. Like he's suffocating too, But his cracks are minimal, not because his pain is small but because vulnerability--something he loathes, is coming to the surface. In tears, Till is suppressing his emotions. Who he bleeds for is ambiguous here, you could say the hearts are for Ivan or for Mizi, but I think it's both. Because he hides from the both of them and eventually the love he feels for them both seeps out one way or the other like a slow leak through a crack in the wall, he's spent so many years building a fortress of a barrier to emotionally separate himself from others, it's his way of protecting himself. But at the peak of his suffering, long too deep into this hell, losing Mizi and then Ivan, he's crying because he's slowly breaking down, and the way he grips at his hair like he's trying to hold back...urgh. In different ways, indifferently, Till ignores Ivan and his affections, and fearfully, he avoids Mizi, instead watching her from afar, doing small things to feel close to her, even when he has the opportunity to get closer, and even when she acknowledges that he's so avoidant of her that it makes Mizi concerned if he even likes her or not, as was said in the Artbook when asked for her opinion of him:

"Mizi -> Till: I'd love to be friends with him. He's an artist who's so dedicated to his work. But he seems to be avoiding me... Does he hate me?"

Till doesn't confront relationships any more than he has to even though he cares so so deeply for them because confronting his emotions and confronting vulnerability, sadness, happiness, etc., and especially fear, is a commitment you have to understand how to accept and respond to, and Till doesn't understand the how when he can only go back to his starting point, hiding and or getting angry, because it's easier. At this point, it's instinct. Shyness is one thing, but doubt is something that can make you freeze in place, confuse you, make you feel unsafe, and even hinder your ability to control yourself in the wake of fear. Fear is what roots Till in place. Till, even for how emotional and sensitive he truly is, he fears the type of vulnerability being emotional requires, he knows of it, but he can never truly embrace it out of fear, that's why he rarely ever shows his heart. He already knows that wearing your weakness on your sleeve leaves you vulnerable to pain, he used to be childish and vulnerable once, and technically, he still is, but just imagine what years upon years of cruelty has instilled in him. So he acts cold and avoidant, and these misunderstood emotions lead to other misguided intentions. That's what brings me to the quote on the back of his pc

Translation:

"사랑 같은 애매한 말보다 증오란 말이 확실해요" -> "The word hatred is more certain than vaguer words like love"

Rather than confronting uncertainty and exploring the confusing, unpredictable, and gray area that is love, hate is honest, hate is intentional, hate is malleable, and you can control it. It's Till's response to feeling unsafe to resort to anger, in the same way, Ivan resorts to trying to fix it and put on a facade. Again, it ties back to the fact that Till doesn't and has never hated Ivan, but understanding Ivan is as confusing as understanding love, Till is as much of a puzzle himself. That's why they confuse each other and clash. So they come close but remain distanced because their connection is almost like unattractive magnets, Till is sensitive and loving, compared to Ivan's regrets; of not being nicer, of not understanding how to get closer to Till, then I think about what Till's recollection of his relationship with Ivan and Mizi in retrospective would be like when he does acknowledge it.

And now...mmizisua. To me, Sua looks more aware of her pain than Mizi is, like in the storyline, she is more aware of their fragility and the cruelness of their environment. It's surely a parallel to the way Sua had kept Mizi in the dark for so many years, even when this pain and this love are so destructive, she covers up her wound with her hand and hides it from Mizi, to protect her, her wound is a direct correlation to her (inevitable) death, a truth that would shatter Mizi, even after he death she wants Mizi to remember her the same as she was when she was alive, unaffected by their world. She tries to force a smile as if everything is still okay, especially because she doesn't want to affect the way Mizi looks at her so lovingly, how would Mizi ever recover if she knew the truth?

And Mizi would seemingly be none the wiser if not for the tears because, to me, she knows but looks to Sua for comfort, to forget even when she is hurt the same way, I love this side of MiziSua a lot, the side that highlights the cruelty of their relationship that surrounds their bubble, because as long as they could distract themselves with the presence of each other, the co-dependence of their dynamic, they could forget as if they couldn't feel the pain at all as long as they had each other, but Mizi is still so affected by her pain, all this hiding had amounted to nothing in the end because Mizi never changes in Sua's eyes, and Sua is still hiding her pain, but that day, Sua had broken that bubble of ignorance to the evil around them. Mizi's cracking, and she shows Sua when she pulls back her hair. It's an interesting contrast between MiziSua and IvanTill, when Mizi and Sua smile, they look happy to be in love, even if it's twisted and hurts each other, because they only rely on each other, and Ivan and Till look inconsolably pained.

[chelseeebe]

‘til the world caves in: something in the orange

mdni 18+. smut. exfamous!steve x female reader. zombie apocalypse au! mentions of guns and violence throughout. no use of y/n!

a/n: this is my new iteration of the apocalypse au! i dabbled with it before but actually rlly like this one, matter of fact, most of the chapters are written already lmfao:) the famous part rlly is just there for this oneee specific scene i had in mind for a later part but it’s something different i guess

nobody cares who you are in the apocalypse. well, maybe except for you.

life before the outbreak had been weird enough for steve, his band had just started their rise to fame when all this shit went down.

it wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be at 19 but money and fame weren’t anything he was gonna say no to.

and then news broke that people had started eating each other’s faces and now he was no longer this up and coming star, rather just some guy trying to stay alive with some girl he’d met fleeing new york.

six years was more than enough time for them to become best friends, travelling through various camps and groups of people before they ended up somewhere in the middle of indiana.

steve’s never been here before and he wishes he wasn’t here now.

there’s nothing for miles and now robin’s leg is fucked, he thinks it might be the end.

the buttfuck town of hawkins indiana would be their demise.

they’d collapsed on the fence of some building, too dehydrated and tired to care. accepting a certain death as robin cries softly next to him, their fingers entwined as death awaits.

they were pretty delirious when they were picked up by some group. a tall man with a thick moustache and a lady with a sweet voice, helping them across town to their compound.

he’s not entirely sure what had happened when they’d arrived, he’d been bustled into a room and remembers collapsing on the bed with a pounding in his head before blacking out.

-

turns out he was out for days, waking up in the dark confines of a tiny box room with nothing else around him. admittedly, the lack of robin in his immediate vicinity scared the shit out of him.

all he can remember is that her leg was infected and her head was starting to hurt which was never a good sign.

a small, curly haired lady bursts into the room, startled to see him standing, “oh! you’re awake! great,” she smiles.

“where am i?” he asks, like a petrified child.

“you’re in hawkins,” she nods, “you were in a pretty bad state when we found you.”

nothing had ever felt so befuddling, jolting him back into survival mode as he realises his bag was nowhere to be found.

“where’s robin? we need to.. we have to go,” steve rushes, fearing the worst.

“she’s good, i think she was in the cafeteria.. we can go and get some food if you’d like?” the kind lady offers, pity in her eyes.

he nods, sceptical as he follows her out of the room and through the massive doors. there’s laughter from the other side, amazed at the sight of the light bulbs glowing white. electricity. nothing like the candles and flashlights they’d been using for years.

robin jumps up from the table the second he walks through, hobbling over with a few grunts and groans.

“you’re awake! oh my god steve, i’ve been so worried,” she frets, throwing her arms around his neck, trying to ignore the stares from the strangers in the room.

“you’re okay? i thought..” he exhales, not wanting to finish his sentence. “i don’t know.. fuck,” now robin was here and alive and in his arms, the overwhelming feeling of ten people gawping at him sinks in.

there’s nothing familiar about this place, it’s nothing like the places they’d stayed in, it feels like before.

“come get some food,” robin ushers, placing her hand on his back and very slowly walking to the table, “it’s nice here,” she leans in to whisper, “everyone’s super nice, they even have electricity!” she marvels, helping him to the empty seat.

she pushes her plate towards him, beans and some sort of meat. he hadn’t had a substantial meal in what felt like months, living off of foraged cans and jerky.

the crowd seems to back off at this point, leaving him and robin to eat. to try and digest this place despite feeling like he was in some crazy dream.

“we found some stragglers, out at the old school,” he hears a voice from behind, talking about himself and robin, “they were in pretty bad shape.”

steve doesn’t look around, continuing to eat his portion of robin’s dinner instead.

turns out he didn’t have to, as you arrive at his table, shotgun still strapped to your back and a thick layer of dirt all over your face.

“you the new guys?” you ask, looking between him and robin.

“yeah,” answering for the both of them, “robin,” extending her hand to meet yours.

you shake it, with a small, wary smile before turning your attention to steve, eyes narrowed as if you’re trying to place him.

“i remember you,” smiling with the side of your mouth, sizing him up. “steve harrington,” saying his name with such conviction, “newest member of in motion, weren’t you?”

he’s surprised that anyone would even care to remember him or the shitty boy band he was coerced into, “i mean, i was.. doesn’t really matter now though, right?”

you hum and he’s not sure whether it’s positive or not, “i used to be a fan,” steve couldn’t fathom someone like you ever being a fan of the shitty corporate pop he used to make. “maybe you can perform for us some day.”

it’s the first time in years that anyone has recognised him from before. unsure of how it makes him feel.

-

steve had presumed that he and robin were doing pretty well, they were alive weren’t they?

he’d found out that actually, neither of the two knew a single thing about proper, adequate survival skills and had gotten by with some grace of god.

he could shoot a gun, at least he thought he could. they typically just aimed and shot and hoped for the best rather than all of this.

you kick his feet further apart, barking shoulder width into his ear for the umpteenth time. it’s pretty hard to focus when you’re standing right behind him with your soft lips brushing against his ear every few seconds.

robin takes to it like a duck on water, keeping her arms straight and the gun in line with her eye. how the fuck does she know all of this shit?

steve fires and subsequently misses the makeshift target, cursing under his breath with a nasty side eye to robin who hits it straight in the drawn on face.

“steve,” you warn, walking over to him with a slight frown, “keep it steady, that kick back is no joke.”

he pulls a face, realigning the gun to his eye and tries again.

missing the target entirely this time.

“okay,” you sigh, the feel of your arms wrapping around his startle him for a second before the rest of your body presses against his back.

oh god.

it’d look pretty weird if he popped a boner while on shooting practice, he thinks.

it’s not as if human contact is a thing he encounters regularly, how was his body supposed to know the difference?

your chin rests on his shoulder, peering over at the target, hands coming to sit atop of his sweaty ones as you aim for him.

“that good?” you ask, breath tickling his ear.

it felt good, felt very good actually. your chest flat against his back, his breathing falling into to time with yours.

“ye- yup,” he flutters, almost choking on the words.

steve get it together.

“so go,” you order.

his finger presses the trigger, the bullet flies through the target, straight between the eyes.

“there you go!” you celebrate, the warmth of your body on his disappearing as you come to join him at his side.

he and robin share a look, robin’s smirk was unmistakable, steve knew what she was thinking, somehow he always did.

“go again, just you this time,” nodding with encouragement.

his thoughts are jumbled, preoccupied with the want for you to touch him again. just this time, maybe somewhere more private.

but he does it. the painted on silhouette is hit straight through the forehead, garnering a whoop from robin.

“you’re getting the hang of it,” you smile, fingers brushing over his as you take the gun from his hand. it makes him shiver, electricity pulsing between you. “don’t worry, we can come back out here another day,” sharing a look that lingers just a little too long.

you collect robin’s gun and announce something about lunch but steve can’t focus, still attempting to collect himself from a puddle on the floor.

“man, if you don’t get in there, i’m going to,” robin quips, slapping him quite harshly on the back.

“fuck off,” he hits back, trying to shake the loud, intrusive voice in the background of his mind.

there wasn’t much time for love and relationships while he had to fight the undead. a small part of him wonders if maybe now it’s possible, in here, with you.

okay, he’s definitely getting ahead of himself.

-

you don’t help steve’s delusions when you join him and robin at their table for breakfast, making sure to slide into the seat directly opposite just so he can try not to choke on his food.

“you guys settling in okay?” you ask, not really looking at robin at all, eyes glued to his.

“y-yeah, it’s nice here,” he sputters, trying to focus on the bowl of porridge in front of him.

“good,” you smile, sickeningly sweet.

robin’s foot swiftly connects with his leg, coughing on his mouthful as he returns the favour. he knows what she’s getting at, he’d divulged his fantasies to her a couple nights ago.

they’d been allocated separate rooms but hadn’t dared to separate yet, holing up in steve’s bed as they got used to this place.

you look up again, as if you want to ask something, “i think uh.. a few of the kids found out you were in a band and they wanted to know if you’d sing for them at some point?”

steve narrows his eyes, not forgetting that you’d already revealed yourself as a fan, “they asked?” quirking his brow.

your lips pucker, jabbing at your food in an attempt to hide, “well..” looking up at him through spindly lashes, “maybe not just them.”

he feels this intangible sensation in his chest, a burning that aches his insides.

“okay,” he smiles, managing to keep it down, “i’ll sing for y- them,” hoping no one pulls him on his freudian slip, cheeks burning scarlet.

your eyes light up, the whole world encapsulated within your iris��, a sight he already dreamed of.

he feels like a teenager again, wondering if the pretty girl on the other side of the table liked him back.

-

“ready?” you nod, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

steve’s been anxiously awaiting his first shift on watch, scared about the prospect of accidentally fucking up and someone dying or something like that.

so for his first shift, he’d been graciously paired with you on the back wall. he’s been told there’s never much action there, usually a few stray infected but nothing too serious.

it doesn’t help that you’re in some ridiculously skimpy vest with the tightest pants he’s seen. there’s not a chance in hell that he’ll be able to keep his mind focused.

the pair of you stroll over to the wall, climbing the rusty old tower and relieving argyle and will from their positions.

grateful that you were given the evening shift as the hot july sun is setting and the breeze is beginning to kick in.

you immediately slump into the camp chair, slinging your bag from your back and kicking your heavy boots off, clunking against the metal as they land.

“so.. now we just sit here?” steve asks, cocking a brow at your relaxed disposition.

“yup,” nodding along as you squint up at him. “back wall’s never too exciting, i bet we don’t see a soul.”

“yeah.. okay,” he nods too, taking a seat in the adjacent camp chair, praying for a quiet night.

time ticks on for what must be hours, the courtyard had gone quiet and all he can really hear is your gentle breaths and a cricket somewhere in the long grass.

it must be gone 2am by now and you’d not seen a single thing, not even any infected.

steve can feel your eyes on him, not daring to look over until you start speaking.

“bored yet?”

he shakes his head, he wasn’t. this was pretty exhilarating if he was honest. every time you spoke to him, his heart rate seemed to soar.

“no, no this is nice.”

“the quiet?” you question, tilting your head to the side.

“yeah.. i feel like i haven’t really stopped since we got here.”

there’d been copious amounts of training and the like since he had properly recovered. nancy had shown him how to tie and set up traps. dustin had attempted to explain how you guys had power, though he couldn’t really grasp it.

and you, you had shown him how to shoot and fight and how to use a knife correctly rather than just flailing it around and hoping for the best.

“you’re not a bad watch partner, some of them are so annoying,” rolling your eyes in jest, snickering quietly.

steve smiles, genuinely. he hadn’t really experienced anyone other than robin’s company for a long time and while he loved her to death, it was nice to speak to someone else.

“you’re not too bad yourself,” shying away after his pathetic attempt at flirting.

there had been a fair amount of consideration and a perhaps a little bit of delusion but he had dwelled on it and came to the conclusion that he really liked you.

probably more than he should do at this point.

you pout your lips, considering something before starting, “you know.. there’s something else we could do to pass the time..”

he stares, befuddled for a moment until the glint in your eye makes it all click.

“oh,” is all that comes out of his suddenly very dry mouth.

there’s a flash of hurt and maybe embarrassment on your face, “or not.. i mean- i was just.. forget it,” squeezing your eyes shut as your palm hits your forehead.

“no! god no! i didn’t think you’d want to.. y’know, here..” terrified that he had screwed up his one chance.

not only would he have to leave hawkins, he’d probably have to curl up and die somewhere out of sheer embarrassment and regret.

“i wouldn’t have asked if i didn’t want to,” you shrug, uncurling from your blushing state.

steve almost falls from the rickety chair, “of course i do.. is it a good idea?” motioning over the wall somewhere, “with the watch and stuff..” eager to not disappoint the rest of his new group mates.

“we haven’t seen a thing all night.. we’re not being relieved for another few hours.”

“i don’t.. i don’t think i’ll need a few hours,” hell, ten minutes would be fairly optimistic.

a smirk nudges at your lips, standing from your chair to perch in front of him, hands on his shoulders as you take one last quick peek around.

“you’re sure?” you ask, as if he wasn’t gazing up at you like some pathetic puppy dog right now.

“so sure,” nodding enthusiastically. hesitant to touch you until you smile down at him, egging him on.

“get on the floor,” you instruct, still leering over the metal barriers, “just in case.”

he does as he’s told, sitting back against the wall with a lopsided grin as his heart rate increases tenfold.

it’d been years since he’d had sex. he supposes there was that one girl at the third or fourth camp they were in but she was pretty weird and a little obsessive. it only happened once and then he couldn’t bring himself to do it again.

but you’re smiling now, resting on his thighs and he thinks his heart might give out. there’s no certainty that he’ll even be able to last long enough for you to get any enjoyment from it but he’s willing to try.

a moment passes, eyes locked as you lean down, pressing a gentle yet excited kiss to his lips, it’s more human contact than he’s had in years.

you waste no time, fumbling with the button on his pants, sighing as you pop the button, waiting for him to return the honour.

steve lifts both of your bodies, barely kicking his jeans off before you sit back down, his fingers tingling with pure excitement as they unbutton your pants.

they end up somewhere in the pile of discarded clothes, focusing your attention back on his lips, carelessly connecting your lips.

your hips rock back and forth, sending a deep grumble from his throat to yours as his dick twitches in his boxers. he might as well not even bother to actually have sex, he was about to cum right then and there.

it’s made worse when your middle and index finger slide into the waistband of his boxers, struggling to stay afloat as you tug the material down just under his balls, cock springing up the second it’s freed.

you position your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him with wet lips, the only sounds are the crickets watching this degeneracy.

your hands find their place on his shoulders, holding yourself up while his fist finds his cock, lining himself up with your entrance, heart rate skyrocketing as you gasp above him.

his fingernails graze your skin, leaving indentations in the soft flesh, unable to contain the husky groan that escapes his lips.

your palm slaps over his mouth immediately, eyes wide as your hips rock, “you have to be quiet,” you hush though the smirk tugging at your lips tells him you’re not angry.

steve feels electric, pulsing through his veins with every slight movement you make, garbling into your palm when your pace quickens.

bouncing on his cock, making the entire structure creak and wobble.

he realises now that it’s silent, how obvious the sounds of sex are, skin slapping against skin as you squeak and grunt alongside it.

you’re insane, keeping your hand firmly over his mouth as you use his shoulder for leverage, rolling your hips and squeezing around him.

he’s about ready to cum already, there’s no surprise there. but he’s trying his hardest to hold out, to let you get something from this before he blows his load.

clinging on to your hips for dear life as they roll, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks while he turns to utter mush behind your hand.

“oh shit,” you whine, clit nudging against his pubic bone, louder than he could ever be.

that’s it, hearing you whine sends his stomach lurching, with barely enough time to life your body from his lap before he explodes.

hips stuttering into the air as you watch with bated breath, still covering his mouth as a series of expletives tumble out, muffled and breathless.

steve’s never felt so embarrassed and yet so good all at once, the back of his head thwacking against the metal panel as he floats back to earth.

you rest atop of his thighs, nibbling on the skin of your bottom lip. there’s a silence that makes him want to crawl up the side of the barrier and let infected rip him apart.

he wants to apologise for his premature ejaculation, a little ashamed that he couldn’t prove himself to you but before he can conjure up the appropriate apology, your finger tilts his chin upwards, to meet your eyes.

you stifle it for a minute before bursting into a fit of giggles, “it’s okay.. maybe next time.”

albeit a very vague promise of a next time, steve starts to beam, still catching his breath as you shuffle off of his thighs, pulling your panties on as you lay back on the floor, gesturing for him to join you.

dawn breaks around the two of you, the birds rising to sing their song as you lay on the uncomfortable metal grates next to him.

it’s so serene, a picturesque view peeking from outside the little hut.

this is a feeling steve had thought he may never experience again, content with his life despite the rest of the world crumbling outside of the walls.

it’s something in the orange hue, an aching feeling that he owes to blind optimism. a spark of hope, remnants of a fear to lose anyone else.

to lose you.

your tongue pokes from the side of your lips, sighing softly, “there’s something i have to tell you.”

he turns, watching your face fall. apprehensively awaiting the harsh truth you were about to unleash.

“go on..”

this time you sigh loudly, exhausting the air from your lungs, “my ex.. lives here too. he’s out on a run to fort wayne at the moment but, they’re due back anytime now and i just need to pre-warn you that he’ll probably be a bit of an ass when he finds out.”

relief washes through his body. was that it?

crazy psycho exes weren’t something new to steve, albeit a long time since he’s had to even think about anything like that, but he doesn’t care.

“oh my god,” he exhales, “you scared me.. i thought you were ‘bout to say something crazy,” chuckling at his preemptive fear.

you whack his arm, “i’m being serious,” turning your head to glare at him, “he’s not.. the nicest person and he definitely won’t be nice about this.”

“what’s wrong with him?” steve asks, genuinely. they’d crossed paths with a lot of fucked up people in the six years since this had started but he had never believed that anyone truly bad could live somewhere as nice as this.

those places always seemed to crumble, he’d seen it enough times to know. people had taken the apocalypse as a means to become awful people, dictating the lives of everyone around them as if you weren’t all trying to do one thing.

survive.

you sigh, scrunching your nose, “he and his uncle have been here from the start of it all, helped build this place to what it is now. but his uncle, wayne, left a year back.. went to try and find his brother, eddie’s dad.. and now eddie’s just eternally pissed off about it.”

steve contemplates your words, knowing he’d probably also be incredibly infuriated too. family, real blood family, was a rarity nowadays. most people had lost most, if not all of any semblance of family by now. he was astounded to arrive here and find real family, joyce had her sons, nancy had mike, even lucas had his sister.

“oh.. that’s.. it’s understandable, i guess,” not quite finding the right words.

you nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. you’re holding something back, steve’s not sure what and he’s certainly not going to ask now. unwilling to ruin the moment.

“why’d you guys break up?” considering if he’d like to get in the middle of some complicated, messy situation.

for you? definitely.

“i dunno.. he was just so angry, he let it consume him,” a certain twinge of sadness to your tone.

“and he took it out on you?”

you scoff a little, “me and everyone else.. look, does it help if i say that he probably won’t shoot you?”

steve hums, “not really.”

that does it, brings your smile back as you crack up shaking hysterically as you turn back to the sky.

“i still think you should sing for us all,” changing the subject completely.

steve groans, wiping the layer of sweat from his forehead. before all this, he would’ve said that he preferred summer but now that there were corpses roaming the streets, he definitely favoured winter. that stench is something he’ll never forget, rotting flesh and hot july sun were not a good mix.

“didn’t i already agree to sing for the kids?” he teases.

you’re interrupted from any further begging as nancy’s voice rings out from below, “hey guys? you there?” worry embedded into her voice.

“shit,” you hiss, shooting up as you grab your pants. “sorry.. sorry,” apologising for your lack of clothing and the accidental fright you’d given them.

“oh wow okay,” nancy bites from down below, laughing her head off, jonathan covers his eyes to give you a little privacy as you pull your jeans on, “how’d i know that you two were gonna fuck this up?”

“yeah yeah, shut up,” you rush, cheeks burning as you jump into your clothes.

steve shuffles over sliding his pants back on as he turns beetroot red, not only was this his first shift, it was also the first time he was showing everyone that he was a capable person to keep around. he’s not so sure they’ll agree now.

nancy and jonathan climb up the ladder, a bemused expression shared across their faces, “quiet night?” nancy asks, cocking her head to the side.

“something like that,” shrugging off her quick remarks as you grab your backpack and shove steve’s into his chest.

the two stand there gawping as steve flushes, stepping into his sneakers and attempts to hurriedly brush his hair into place. he wants to be embarrassed, really, but he’s still riding the high of you even kissing him.

“see anything interesting?” nancy bites, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“nope.”

“mhm i bet,” she smirks, her lips pursed as you shuffle past her, ignoring the smug look on her face as you climb down the ladder.

steve gives them both a little wave, still trying to hide his reddened cheeks as he follows you down from the perch.

you’re waiting for him at the bottom, tugging him away as the pair watch from above. it takes everything in him not to turn around and smile.

“y’wanna shower?” you ask, breaking the silence as you enter the building.

he damn near jumps into the air, clicking his heels together, suppressing his excitement with a simple nod, bounding along behind as you pull him along the corridor.

he’d take any shift if it meant ending up with you.

[digital-chess]

So ragatha. What is your honest opinion on Kinger, Queenie, Pomni and the other black and white pieces?

Ragatha: Er... my uh, "opinion" on everyone? Hoo-boy! That's a loaded question, haha- Alright. Let me think... B-BUT DON'T TELL THE OTHERS I TOLD YOU THIS! Okay, White Team: Jax? Ugh. He's a jerk. Always locking himself in his Bowling Alley, painting my face on bowling pins to blow up when I annoy him, heck- he does that with EVERYONE who annoys him. He's sarcastic, dry, often cruel in his remarks, and the fact he's Kinger and Queenies "Golden Child" is crazy. He's not a bad person... but he's adamant on making me think he is one... and I still don't know why. Zooble? They're a good friend and roommate. They used to live in the Tetris game, able to make a world of their own with the hundreds of block shapes. Kind of like Legos! I remember visiting their room and seeing the world they were able to build with their expertise for turning abstract shapes into art. But then they refused to go to one of the Chess rounds one week... and Kinger punished Zooble by collapsing and destroying their world. They managed to evacuate before the application deleted, and they've been...well, living here with me at Purble Palace ever since! We get along surprisingly well. Gangle? She's so sweet and kind. I don't know what Queenie keeps blabbing on about. She's adamant that Gangle's this... callous manipulative string-puller on Black Team? That somehow Gangle is this dual-faced crocodile-teared attention seeker. She's so sweet. She's gentle, kind, soft-spoken. Black Team bullied her relentlessly and Max would threaten to hurt her if she didn't do what he said. Queenie can't understand. Abuse takes time to recover from. So I'm going to be here for her... I know what it like to feel like nothing. ...I don't want anyone to feel like that. Caine? He's been here the longest. He's my oldest friend besides... Kaufmo. He inspires us when the team has no hope, and can bring everyone together with his speeches and strategies to make us feel like there's still a chance we can win. Sometimes Queenie mocks him, saying he'd be a better fit on Black Team because of his history, but is only with us because its "his punishment". ...I don't think he deserves to be treated the way he is. He doesn't hold himself together as easily anymore. ...Sometimes I catch him mumbling nonsense to his bubble wand, as if it was alive. ...I don't know how much longer he can take Kinger's torment. I'm worried about him. Pomni? I don't know much about her yet... and I'm still struggling to decide if i even want to... And Kaufmo...? ...he was the one person in this entire world of Kinger's who deserved to be free. To get his life back. To leave this game. ...To be happy. ...I just hope he's somewhere better now. Somewhere better than here.

Aaaaaand as for Black Team? How should I know. They're all murderers, psychopaths and thieves. I sometimes would catch that Bishop of theirs sitting on the chessboard afterhours with Kaufmo. He was probably trying to manipulate our friend or... cast a spell to force Kaufmo to betray us or something! I don't know why else he'd have been so consistent to meet Kaufmo there when rounds weren't active.

[astra-ravana]

Liber Paimon

Note: This is a work in progress, but something I've been wanting to do for some time. Hopefully this gives you an idea what I'm going for and serves to preface the book as a whole. Once I am finished I plan to self publish it as an ebook. Any suggestions for this as well as feedback on the two chapters is really appreciated. Happy reading! 🖤

The Dream (Intro)

  I'm having the dream again. I am a child of another time, navigating large, gridded paths between square pools. Fish swim around below me as I run and hop to the end of one path and into an open patio positioned above a waterfall. Looking out, I see gardens with every form of plant life imaginable, but I barely pay them any mind. I approach a young boy sitting on a stone bench. The bench is the same shimmering grey-blue as the walls of this place. Cobalt, I recognize. I sit beside the boy and greet him, proudly presenting a stack of cards I had been given, some sort of divinatory oracle. The boy looks worried as he asks me about some sort of initiation I was to take part in.

   Then the setting changes and I'm being lead down a dark hallway towards a big, red door. My escorts are four masked women in what appears to be ancient Greek styled clothing and faces obscured by ornate masks. There are golden lion statues outside of the door. I know that these lions were a gift for the King and I was about to enter that room and life as I knew it wouldn't be the same ever again. I thought it was what I wanted but as someone positions a mask over my face I am suddenly filled with dread. I was being chosen, it was an honor, I had a gift, and people needed me. I knew all of this. But then I began to resist the hands leading me. Tears streamed down my face.

   Then from behind the red door we hear a building chaos. Yelling and panic, something shatters. One of my escorts opens the red doors and slips quickly between them, I try to see inside and catch a glimpse of fire as well as circles and symbols convering the floor and walls. Then theres a brief silence before I hear someone yell, "He has released them!"  The women leading me begin to fall away. The doors open and people are running past me, screaming, crying. Something big is happening. For a time I'm just frozen there, staring into the room. An old man meets my eyes and something in his gaze awakens me from my shocked state.

   Then I am in the desert sand, the stars above me, a chill setting into my bones, as I run, stumbling, towards the lights of a distant town. I didn't know if anyone was following me, I didn't care. I didn't think of how my shoes and robes would slow me down, or how cold it was. I just ran. Ran until I couldn't anymore, until I collapsed in a sobbing, shivering heap.

   Then he was there. Pulling me onto the back of a camel. Warmth, safety, acceptance, I felt these things. I knew he wasn't a normal man, more like an amalgamation of man and beast and god, a black flame in the pitch of night. "I'm running too, " he spoke, with a whispering melody, "Let's run together." I nod against him feeling power well within me. As we ride on, I feel myself changing, becoming one with his vibration and then it all fades away...

   The dream started when I was about nine years old and sure enough, every few nights, as I slept, I lived it again and again. I saw his face, his long black hair, heard his voice echoing in my mind. But who was this mysterious figure? What were these dreams trying to tell me? I wondered this for a long time. I wouldn't get my answers until the Winter of 2017.

   I had been scrolling some witchcraft centered Facebook groups when I came across a post asking about people's past life dreams and memories. I took the opportunity to tell my story, simply wanting to add something to the discussion. I forgot about it, until people began replying to my comment.

   "This sounds like the cobalt temple of King Solomon." My brain reeled at what I identified as a Bible reference. I was a dedicated atheist and detested the Christian religion. But someone quickly corrected me. This wasn't the wise, old King Solomon skimmed over in the King James Bible. Furthermore, my dream savior on camel back was likely not a man at all, but a demon. A powerful king of Hell, subject only to Lucifer himself, and his name was Paimon. As I clicked through links and articles of varying descriptions and depictions it became clearer. This was who I saw in my dream. But, why was I having these dreams? Could this possibly be real? What would this demon want with me?

   Honestly, I sat with the knowledge for some time, unsure of what to do with it. Then, I began communing with the spirit world as part of my practice. I began using my dreams as a vehicle for spiritual contact. I worked with the Fae, the dead, and became captivated by Djinn and other non-human spirits. Around this time I purchased several books, one of which was The Goetia of Solomon the King. I read Paimon's page over and over, stared at his sigil until my eyes watered. I began extensive research into demons, their origin, and true nature as well as methods for summoning and invoking them. And then one cool Spring night, I was ready.

   I wrote a plea to Paimon to enter my life and bring my answers and folded it a couple times, drawing his sigil on the outside, and then pricking my finger, letting blood dribble over it. I sat nervously on my front porch with a lit orange candle, the night was still, silent, dark. "Linan Tasa Jedan Paimon," I spoke to the air around me, it came out like a hoarse whisper. Undeterred, I held the petition over the flame and held it while it lit up, kissing the tips of my fingers with flame and making me wince. As the last scraps of paper burnt up a strange, familiar feeling cascaded over me.

   I suddenly felt very warm, dizzy, restless, ethereal, connected to something ancient and powerful. The sky let out a deep, atmospheric hum, like the blowing of a horn, the wind picked up and whipped around me, I could eventually hear bells and chiming tones, music rolling through my sleepy town. Then came a voice, rolling through my mind like a slow-moving storm front. "Finally, you are finished running. "

Who is Paimon?

“The Ninth Spirit in this Order is Paimon, a Great King, and very obedient unto LUCIFER. He appeareth in the form of a Man sitting upon a Dromedary with a Crown most glorious upon his head. There goeth before him also an Host of Spirits, like Men with Trumpets and well sounding Cymbals, and all other sorts of Musical Instruments. He hath a great Voice, and roareth at his first coming, and his speech is such that the Magician cannot well understand unless he can compel him. This Spirit can teach all Arts and Sciences, and other secret things. He can discover unto thee what the Earth is, and what holdeth it up in the Waters; and what Mind is, and where it is; or any other thing thou mayest desire to know. He giveth Dignity, and confirmeth the same. He bindeth or maketh any man subject unto the Magician if he so desire it. He giveth good Familiars, and such as can teach all Arts. He is to be observed towards the West. He is of the Order of Dominations [Dominions]. He hath under him 200 Legions of Spirits, and part of them are of the Order of Angels, and the other part of Potentates. Now if thou callest this Spirit Paimon alone, thou must make him some offering; and there will attend him two Kings called LABAL and ABALI , and also other Spirits who be of the Order of Potentates in his Host, and 25 Legions. And those Spirits which be subject unto them are not always with them unless the Magician do compel them. His Character is this which must be worn as a Lamen before thee, etc.”

- Original text from The Goetia

“Paimon is an angel-daimon of Lucifer, whom appears as a man crowned upon a camel. This spirit is a familiar of musick, thus by invoking Paimon one may work through an avenue of self-initiation through creating musick. Paimon is a powerful Angelick King of the Witchcraft, whom has 200 Legions of spirits – half are the Orders of Angels, the others being Potentates. Paimon appears with two Spirit/Djinn – Label and Ablim who are referred to as Kings. Paimon is perhaps one of the most significant Angelick Rulers, which along with Astaroth (whom is more bestial/demonic in nature and appearance) opens the way to the “Grail” of Lucifer’s crown – the perception of “I” and the mind separate from the universe. Paimon is a higher spirit of self-initiation, who is a path maker for ones own becoming. Paimon sometimes appears as an angelick spirit with a flaming sword. His office is Guardian of the Path through Leviathan, the Guardian of the Depths and Subconscious.”

- From The Luciferian Goetia by Michael Ford

“He teaches all arts and sciences and occult.  He can be invoked to bind others.  To be observed toward the west with offerings. Seek Paimon to understand Alchemy. Seek Paimon for creative pursuits or to design a plan of action. Paimon can also help in emotional understanding.”

-From the Demonolatry Goetia by S. Connolly

- The sigil of King Paimon

  The lore and cultural footprint of King Paimon is rather significant, especially compared to other Goetic spirits. First, and perhaps most notably, are his number of legions of followers, which is 200, more than any other listed demon. Far more in fact, as Beleth has the next highest number of legions, which is 85. This is likely the reason why Paimon is named the "Lord of Familiars", amongst other designations. Often described as having long, flowing pblack hair, an effeminate face, wearing robes with a brilliant crown upon his head. He possesses a unique connection with the spiritual realm and its inhabitants in that he can create an open channel of communication and can connect you to spirits who resonate at a similar frequency to you.

   In this aspect he very much carries the mantle of a grand mediator between you and the spirit world, easily finding you the right spirit for your need. Paimon can warn one of, and protect them from, malevolent spirits. He also eases connections with spirits who would be otherwise considered difficult to work with. He clears away the clouds of miscommunication for you to truly connect with spirits on their level, which is a truly priceless resource to a practitioner.

   Paimon is also a spirit of creativity and the arts. He celebrates both creators and the fruits of their labor. He is very in tune with the sounds, vibrations, and frequencies of the Universe and has a deep love for music. He is said to have influenced artist and musician alike, infusing his powerful energy into their creations. When Paimon arrives the world truly comes alive with light, color, and sound.

   Although he is capable of displays of power and physical manifestation, Paimon prefers subtle and considerate forms, talking within the conscious minds of his contacts. He is a spirit of  communication as well and has ways of connecting with almost anyone. Paimon carries an air of diplomacy and universal recognition. Wherever he goes, his voice shall be heard.

   Witchcraft is another area where Paimon's presence is highly fortuitous. Paimon is a higher spirit who has lived many lives, both physical and spiritual, and has been an avid practitioner of both high and low magick. He carries vast knowledge regarding herbalism, spell crafting, symbology, divination, spirit work, dream manipulation, and astral travel. If there is a witchcraft related matter, he most certainly has some knowledge related to it. He guides his adepts to research deeper and apply themselves in their craft. With his tutelage your practice can be significantly amplified.

   Finally, Paimon embodies natural, perfect chaos, the order of disorder, thinking freely, and being authentic and true to your path. While he can cause the ruin of the tower, he more greatly values the process of rebuilding it better than it was. In this same way, he rebuilds the witch, making them stronger and much more true to themselves in the process.

Temperament

   All things considered, Paimon is a rather easy going spirit. He enjoys sweets like cakes, honey, and especially chocolate. He loves animals and has a soft spot for children. He has a deep respect for nature, the stars, and the elements, and understands the intricate connections between these and the spirits that exist around, and within, us. He has a quick wit, brilliant sense of humor, and likes to gossip. Even though he leads 200 legions, he believes in equality amongst all spirits and always hears what others have to say. He's a fantastic listener as well as a smooth talker. As an individual he is charming and fascinating, comforting and strong, scientific and artistic, light-hearted but serious when the situation calls for it. Everything you might want in a friend. Especially a spirit friend who can help guide you through the unknown with enthusiasm.

   On the reverse side of things, Paimon is capable of being a very intimidating force. If he, or his adepts are wronged he can become fixated on vengeance. Don't mistreat your access to the spirit world and try to keep your dealings fair. In other words, the spirits want to help and they deserve fair reciprocation and respect. On Paimon's path we don't trap or bind spirits or force them to be subject unto us in any form. That means no Solomonic or Abrahamic magick. While studying these is encouraged, practice should be very limited. Instead we will focus on invocation, sigil work, and forming creative beacons for spirit to flow through.

   Paimon can also call vast amounts of spirits to his aid, making him an even more imposing emissary of the Qliphothic plain. Powerful spirits like Azazel, Asmodeus, Lucifer, and Leviathan have such a deep respect for this camel-riding King that he is considered by some to be an honorary Dark Lord of Hell. He knows secrets that no one else knows, has answers to questions no one has thought to ever ask, and has alliances in all corners of all plains of existence... And provided you're in his good graces, you would never suspect this. To Paimon, titles and hierchies are useless constructs, degrading the value and contributions of the individual. This humble spirit remains a wandering soul who values communication between beings, serendipity, the mind, and the soul's journey above all else.

Correspondences

Enn: "Linan Tasa Jedan Paimon"

Rank: King

Other names (titles): King of Music, Lord of Familiars, Master of Infernal Ceremonies, the Pale King, Guardian of the Path to Leviathan

Colors: Yellow, orange, black, purple, dark blue indigo

Herbs: Bindweed, saffron, sunflower, violets, yarrow, mullien, rose, frankincense, myyrh, wood betony, dandelion, sandalwood, patchouli, turmeric, thyme

Crystals: Gold aura hematite, labradorite, moldavite, rutilated quartz, pietersite, lapis lazuli, citrine, larvakite, ruby kyanite, bumblebee jasper, fluorite, marcosite, tourmaline

Element: Air/Water

Planet: Sun/Mercury

Zodiac: Gemini

Metal: Gold, meteorite

Tarot: The Magician, The Hermit, 6 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords

Direction: West

Dates: June 11th - 20th, April 30th - May 1st

Day: Sunday

Animal: Dramaderie camel

Domains: All arts and sciences, familiars, spirit work of any kind, music, alchemy, emotions, mental pursuits/finding knowledge, truth, the unknown, the occult, mysteries of life, manifestation, communication, enlightenment, mental, spiritual, and emotional growth, dream work, divination, astrology, baneful magick, herbalism, nature, sigil work, psychic abilities, scrying, shadow work, balance

Offerings: Sweets like cake, cookies and chocolate, honey, coffee, tea, soda, wine, canabis, tobacco, herbs, incense, music, works of art, conversation (tell him your secrets)

[fazedlight]

Hero (Kara character study. Angsty but gets better.)

I can save this world.

Kara looked herself over in the mirror, her chest puffing in silent pride at the symbol that lay across it. I am the last daughter of the House of El, she thought to herself. I am the last daughter of Krypton, and no one will ever forget it.

Her mind drifted to watching her cousin’s feats from her living room. Collapsed bridges, raging floods, villains - human and alien alike - who sought to cause harm. How he stood in the way, the El family crest on his chest, cape snapping in the wind. 

She couldn’t save her world, but she could save this one. She could make herself worthy of the House of El.

I can save this world.

She could still hear the screams from across the city, from the child she couldn’t get to on time. The fire had spread so rapidly that the mere minute it took for her to come up with an excuse and run away had cost a child his life. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but there were others in the building she could still save.

She thought of asking Kal how he handled it, the loss of a single precious life that might still have been here had she been just a little better, just a little faster. But maybe he didn’t really deal with that - maybe she was just the failure he wasn’t. She had failed to be there for him, after all.

Then the news of her father’s involvement in Medusa came to light, and Kara stopped knowing how to feel about the sigil on her chest.

I can’t save this world.

It was the last conscious thought she had, as Reign’s hand loosened. She remembered starting to fall, but she couldn’t remember landing.

She was trapped - trapped in her own mind, away from everyone. Unable to escape. But she wasn’t damaged. She was stuck because… she was afraid? Because she was a failure. Because Reign represented everything she couldn’t be. How could she try to save the world, when destruction was so much easier than creation?

I can’t save this world.

What is it the man had said? “They’re not like you. You’re a superhero.” As though her cape made her any less a refugee who came here for safety, a child sent across skies to protect and be protected.

How does one fight a villain that lives in everyone’s soul, a piece of darkness and fear that turns outward with suspicion and hatred towards those that are different? Even if she was a shining example of the best of her kind, she would simply be discounted. “You’re one of the good ones,” they would tell her. Because hate was easy when there was fear.

I can save her.

Kara’s chest fluttered in panic as Lena held Myriad in her hand. It had been too easy, how quickly their relationship had recovered from Kara’s own cruelty. She never wanted the other shoe to drop. She hid, she always hid, hiding would always be easier than acknowledging the possibility of loss.

She thought she had lost enough in her life, but as the kryptonite encased her in the last remnant of her home, she could only feel a new type of regret.

I can’t save her.

Kara’s fists clenched as she stared down Lena on the balcony. You act like a villain, I’ll treat you like one, she thought to herself, hating herself every moment. She knew the torn woman in front of her was an adversary she had created. But she had tried, Rao, she had tried to do the right thing.

She didn’t know how she could live with the string of failure that had followed her ever since she had picked up the cape. But at the same time, she knew there came a point where - whatever she had created - she still needed to do what was right. 

Even if it meant giving up any hope of being with the woman she loved.

I can’t even save myself.

She could still feel the softness of Lena’s hand in her own when they reconciled. There was still so much they needed to talk about in the aftermath, something else she needed to confess. The bridge was there for them to cross, once it was all over.

But then the only option became to risk her own life. Her soul tore at Lena’s longing gaze when she left the Fortress, and Kara wondered if they would ever get the chance.

It was a twisted comfort, knowing that Lena cared, even in the midst of their fallout, even as Kara faced her eternity in the Phantom Zone.

They saved me.

Kara broke down sobbing when Alex shoved her under the sunlamp, feeling the painful tingling of her cells remembering how to process sunlight. Everything screamed at her - the thundering sound of the light breeze outside, and choking scent of motor oil from the passing cars, and the hammering of all her friends’ heartbeats from the Tower’s mainroom.

Her body screamed like she was 13 again, panic and joy overwhelming her, because the pain wasn’t tied to the loss like it was all those years ago. It was a second chance, with everyone she loved.

We can save the world. 

There was this exhilaration to being back, to seeing the blue oceans and red sunrises and green grass. Maybe it’s easy to get carried away, when you can forget what made everything so hard.

Her father was going to save this world from its own destruction. She was going to absorb the sun. It was easy to seek easy solutions for everything, only for it to solve nothing at all.

We can save the world, sometimes.

It felt so odd to smile and cry, as Lena pulled her into her arms. Kara’s mind jumped from seeing her sister so happy with Kelly as they danced, to the words that were missing. The words Kara needed to say to her best friend.

She knew in the night - once they were out of their wedding clothes and in their pajamas, curled up on Lena’s couch - the words would finally tumble out.

But as Lena stood in front of her, reminding her that the world wasn’t on her shoulders alone, Kara took the moment to pause. She thought of her old cape, torn up and folded neatly in her closet at home. The day she put it on, she never thought she’d need more than feats of strength to save the world.

But how could strength defeat masses manipulated into bigotry? How could strength defeat magic? How could strength defeat the best friend she had betrayed? She wasn’t here through strength alone, but through connection, and truth. As Lena reminded her, the only salve against the darkness was in standing together.

We can save each other.

A small smile crossed Kara’s face, as she watched Lena snooze next to her in the morning light, hearing her voice from the day before. “You can’t always be our savior, Kara. You shine your light and inspire others to shine theirs.” She could never save everyone. No one could. But that’s not what hope was about, as much as cynicism said otherwise. 

As Kara reached up to brush hair away from Lena’s face, she remembered the lyrical sound of her family motto falling from Lena’s lips. With each person who stood next to another, the spark grew. Perhaps they could someday create enough light.

Kara lowered her head, placing her forehead against Lena’s as she slept. As Kara listened to Lena's peaceful heartbeats and calm breaths, she found herself praying to Rao. Thank you for this spark.

[vamphorica]

ashes to ashes, dust to dust

i wrote a very short fic inspired by @iheartmello 's absolutely wonderful birthday piece for mello. it really inspired me, thank you so much Rudy for creating it ♡

just be warned that i very much return to my roots in horror writing with this one, so it is quite intense. aside from that, enjoy!

read below (683 words) ⬎

You are holding the hand of a stranger. You ought to recognise him really, he is you, but at the age of ten years old, you perceive him only in that hazy apparition in which all adults fall into. A man who does not smile, or speak to you, but clings onto your hand with a force that makes you wince. You wonder if he is lonely, so you tolerate the discomfort in the hope that maybe it will make him feel better, his desire to possess you like a spirit. To be exorcised of his embrace might hurt him, and there is something of the sadness that lingers in his expression that you feel responsible for. 

Looking around, there is nothing else to be seen in this endless void in which the two of you stand. You are at an age where someone is always present to explain life’s mysteries, to satiate your ever growing curiosity about the world, but there is a distinct loss of that guidance here. You can hear your heartbeat in the centre of your mind, a throbbing anxiety that claws away with questions you feel too overwhelmed to ask. In fact, the very thought of trying to converse with the one beside you has not even occurred, and as you meet his gaze – he is looking at you too – you wonder if you ought to say something. Anything. 

Before you can open your mouth, to eject words that could resemble a sentence, the stench of burning hits you. Your only experience with such an odour has been contained. A bonfire erected on Guy Fawkes night, the small flame of a lighter you once found on the pavement, an unfortunate attempt at baking a cake for a birthday. The scent, unpleasant, posed no real threat, but there is something rather more dangerous in the unrelentless harshness of what now emanates here. 

You watch as the man aside you becomes consumed by flames.

It is so without warning that you cannot conceptualise what you witness. The blaze is blinding, your eyes watering in the close proximity, and the heat is close to unbearable. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of your neck and you hear yourself screaming but you know you aren’t, that it is the intense pressure building up in your head that screeches at the horror of flesh set alight.

Paralysed, you cannot pull away from the tight grip with which the man holds onto you, even if you had thought to do so. His stare is so intense, even as the flames crawl up onto his face, charring his pale skin to a nauseating redness turned black within an instant. He is calm. No slight indication in his expression suggests even discomfort, much less the pain of being burnt alive. He is disintegrating before your eyes, as the crackling sound evident of cremation tears through that silence between the two of you. It is only a single tear that threatens his demeanour and even then, it does not fall.

The fire only grows, a creature so furious in its intent to destroy that the very havoc it enkindles encourages its aggression. It will reach you too, eventually, if the dense smoke that arises from its wrath doesn’t suffocate you first. You already feel like you have lost the ability to breathe, as if your lungs have collapsed against your ribcage under the pressure of keeping you alive. You are fucking scared, and you still have no idea what any of this means, only that you are watching the death of a man who you believe you ought to have saved, somehow. You are just a child, how are you meant to do such a thing?

The stranger’s hand suddenly pulls back from your own, as you stagger backwards, a ragged gasp now pulled sharply within. His outstretched palm, decorated by a small bracelet with a silver cross charm that hangs from his wrist, is the last thing you see before the flames reclaim it, condemning it to the fate of nothing more than ash.

[kittenfangirl20]

Hercules Au

Today was a joyous occasion for the all might God by the name of Theodore, though many called him Teddy.

Today his son was born, his son Lucifer was brought into the world by his lovely wife and they threw a party on Mount Olympus to celebrate.

Everyone was invited and boy did everyone come.

Even Alastor, his brother and ruler of the underworld. Alastor never liked his brother, he thought he was given too much in a way of being happy.

So when he had a baby that was it. He couldn't stand it anymore. That baby shined bright like one of the many stars in the sky and was as strong as could be.

When he got home he called upon his minions Nifty and Husk to steal the baby in the middle of the night and kill him with a bottle of poison. To take him to earth and get the job done.

But just as Husk was feeding the last few drops to baby Lucifer they were spooked and they left the baby behind.

And just one small mouthful of poison remained, leaving Lucifer with no powers other than his strength.

*Lucifer was raised by a loving mortal couple named Moxxie and Millie, they treated him as if he was their own biological child, but he wasn’t openly accepted amongst the people in his village, no one could teach Lucifer to control his superhuman strength and he was seen as an oddity to everyone who saw him, today Lucifer was a teenager and he was helping Moxxie take the crops to the village to sell*

Moxxie: Please stay here, I know you feel the need to want to help others, but I am worried about what they will do to you if you cause destruction.

Lucifer: I understand dad.

*while waiting he saw someone had lost control of their cart and it was barreling through the streets, he tried to stay where he was, but he saw a boy about his age who was dressed in purple sitting in the middle of the street clutching a sprained ankle as he looked at the oncoming cart with with tear filled eyes, no one was coming to save the boy dressed in purple, so Lucifer ran to push the cart out of the way causing it to slam into a couple buildings causing to collapse, thankfully no one was in them so no one died, Lucifer ran over and picked up the boy in purple and had him sit on the fountain in the village square*

Boy in Purple: Thank you for saving me, I have weak ankles.

*Lucifer looked up and was struck by how beautiful the boy in purple was, he was about to introduce him to the boy, but the village citizens surrounded them while calling for Lucifer’s blood, Moxxie ran to help Lucifer get away, thankfully someone was coming to help take the boy in purple to the doctor while Lucifer wished he could have at least learned his name not knowing that he would see this particular boy years later when they had both grown up, Moxxie took Lucifer home, Lucifer sat under a tree with his knees pulled up to his chest*

Lucifer: Every time I try to help, things just keep getting worse.

Millie: I am sure the boy saved doesn’t think that, in fact the ones who should be ashamed were the ones who stood by and did nothing while a boy was about to be killed.

Moxxie: Your mom is right, there is something we need to tell you. We found you wrapped up in a blanket wearing this.

*Moxxie handed Lucifer a medallion that had the crest of the gods on it and his name on the back*

Lucifer: The gods could have the answer to who I am?

Millie: We think so, we will support any choice you make.

Lucifer: Thank you.

*Lucifer packed up some supplies for travel and a tribute to give at the temple before he started travel to the temple Theodore that was close by*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

(I am pretty sure you can guess who the boy in purple Lucifer saved was) 😇

[galactic-rhea]

*guy who is so normal about surgery voice* surgerylesson…what is surgerylesson…

HEY, I'M NOT NORMAL ABOUT MEDICAL STUFF EITHER, LET'S BE FRIENDS-

Ah, yes, yes, that's meant to be a little oneshot from...some whumptober list i completely lost, but it was Anakin saving Ahsoka from some building collapsing during a mission and getting separated from the rest in an empty city, but Anakin being Anakin (aka, the guy with the worst luck ever) got a nasty wound and Ahsoka didn't notice until Anakin pretty much falls to the ground and starts writhing in pain.

Ahsoka's voice trembled, failing to finish any logical sentence. He grimaced, not out of pain, but because he had never quite seem her so distraught, so scared, she never looked more like a child than now. "It's fine,Snips,just…some blood loss," He made sure to press the wound harder, not that it was helping very much. He closed his eyes and focused, Ahsoka said something, but he couldn't spare too much of his attention on it, he needed to think. "The medkit," he breathes, then doesn't wait to see if Ahsoka heard him at all. "Does…Does master Jenara still teaches padawans nursery basics?" He thinks Ahsoka's answer was a not yet. He couldn't remember exactly when or why, but he remembers where; he remembers the twin suns' implacable warm and the pained voice of his mother stating how important was to keep the sand out of the wound, somehow. He remembers crying and being scared of needles for months. And then he remembers being an older padawan, and being alone with Obi-Wan in some jungle with bloodsucking bugs, and Obi-Wan's pained voice trying to make a snide comment about Anakin's rather clumsy sewing, 'No more Caff for you, my young padawan'. "Use the scissors,cut the fabric away," he explains even before she has opened the kit. "I don't…" Ahsoka kneels beside him, starting to uncover the wound. "You'll have to," once again he closes his eyes and focuses, he's pretty sure something made its way deep into his flesh, glass…perhaps. "Steady breaths, Snips, count to ten and then back to one. I'll tell you what to do." "But, Master, I don't…you—, I've never—" He feels cold, but then again, he always has been sensitive to anything that isn't a blazing sunset. He bites his inner cheek until he tastes blood and momentarily imagines Ahsoka holding his dead body, and that's something he can't allow her to ever see, that's something no one should've to deal with, he couldn't allow her to be left alone. "You'll see worse, this is wa—" he falls silent.

Wip title game! let people let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it

[bonefall]

For Riverstar’s Heir, do you have any idea where you want to land themeatically? Because from my reading of the possible themeatic directions, with the whole story being about this crisis of politics and succession, it feels like the character who “should” become the next leader of RiverClan narratively should be the Most ruthless/aggressive/willing to resort to dishonorable methods of dealing with rivals (reinforcing RiverClan’s entry into/building up of the early Clans’ emerging systems of battle society)

The alternative “most interesting” option I can imagine would be one that is least likely/least aggressive/some otherwise sort of underdog candidate (maybe not even technically “legal” depending on what qualifications there are for heirship?), but I’m not sure exactly what themes that would play into, other than maybe how the pursuit of power can change someone?

That said, your themeatic instincts are strong enough that I can see you having a strong idea for a “middle-of-the-pack” candidate winning out over the others just as much, so— I am genuinely curious what your thoughts are for where you Want this crisis of succession to end, narratively, even if you don’t have an exact cat picked yet.

Good ask because I'd not been clear about the theme yet, I think. What Riverstar's Heir is trying to get at, at the heart of the issue, is that this is a bloodbath caused by naiive optimism and greed.

The commandments to establish borders and prevent killing are nice, but not enough. You can't just have a society on good will, not when POWER is up for grabs in the scramble. It's about collapse, and how innocent, well-meaning people get caught up in the devastation. Not JUST the troublemakers.

Riverstar was an EXCELLENT king, beloved and wise, but if you don't prepare a proper successor, everything you worked hard to build might crumble to ruin.

Something unique is lost in this shuffle. It's no longer the River Kingdom, and the Wind Coalition also becomes WindClan at this point. For better, and for worse, they both lose a bit of what made them special. Redscar's choice at the end also solidifies the early political power of Clerics, which is eventually broken many generations later with Larkwing's Strike.

So, fragment time,

At LEAST three "heirs" end up getting killed.

So, because these ones are gonna die, I have Three Heir "Slots" that I'm committed to and just need to fill;

The Eldest, Riverstar's oldest living biological child.

The Chosen, Riverstar's adopted heir, a rather meek prince easily pressured into backing off his rightful claim. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Mossfire.

The Firstblood, directly descended from Riverstar's FIRSTborn child. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Jumpfoot.

I also have two tentative slots.

The Accomplished... who is a blood relative of Riverstar, but more of a "puppet" for WindCo. Someone they're intentionally propping up hoping for power.

The Diplomat, from WindClan, who is a lot like WindCo's puppet but this one is more subtle about it. Poetic. Happy to purr and remind the world of the wonderful, deep ties that had existed between King Riverstar and Thunderstar.

And, LASTLY, there's The Deputy. The most qualified choice, who served Riverstar, but was no relative.

It feels right that the Deputy is the one who is chosen in the end... hm.

Anyway

After a smaller conflict near the start of the story, either The Eldest or The Firstblood seems to be the favorite to win... but decides to wait for the morning to set out for the Moonstone and take their lives.

In this time period, without selecting a successor, this heir is assassinated.

In fact it might be VERY fun if this heir, being so much like King Riverstar himself, decided to throw a pre-emptive celebration.

Meat! Merriment! MURDER!!!

Having them go out via poison would be a fun way to send a character off.

This is going to be why the "DEPUTY BEFORE MOONHIGH" rule is established, but it's also what kicks off the bloodier parts of the plot.

Thinking about it... a cleric and/or the deputy should probably tell this heir, "Hey, buddy, you should really get going" and they're ignored.

With Eldest Heir gone, the small conflict from earlier becomes an LARGE conflict.

And, like they did back in DOTC, families start to rally together. Especially Eldest's offspring, who think they're just as entitled to the Throne as The Firstblood/Jumpfoot

King Riverstar used to encourage cats to enter the River Kingdom freely. The borders were essentially open, and everyone was allowed in, as long as they were willing to cross the river.

(maybe I'll even have him pull down the tree from Riverstar's Home intentionally, happy to accept other cats into his Kingdom. Then he defends it from Skystar, specifically, but refuses to destroy what he built.)

This had allowed River Kingdom to grow large and powerful, but it also meant everyone in River Kingdom had connections to the other Clans.

Which meant there were cats supporting OTHER bids to the Throne, like the one from WindCo and the one from ThunderClan.

Smelling a way to grab power, Duststar supports his favorite heir, and Whitestar of ThunderClan also begins to stick his nose in.

Each Heir tries to run the River Kingdom, and things start to get hostile. If there's more than just the three heirs, even more of them start to get openly attacked, chased out, killed, until there's only The Chosen and The Firstblood left.

Somewhere around here, River Kingdom is invaded. Probably by the leader of SkyClan at the time, claiming that they don't even NEED an heir to take what these cats clearly don't deserve.

And that's when the internal conflict becomes a FULL-BLOWN WAR between four Clans.

In those days, the camp was at Sunningrocks, right in the middle of the river.

ThunderClan jumps in to help its "Ally" against SkyClan, just like historical precedent, but they have NO IDEA who they're fighting against, because the whole Kingdom is divided. It's not as simple as it was in DOTC anymore.

WindCo came to support its favorite heir, but its cats don't obey Duststar's orders when it comes down to fighting their own friends and family, meaning they're functionally fighting EVERYONE and losing a TON of cats

SkyClan is getting pummeled because EVERY group is pissed at them as well as each other, getting a painful awakening that they are NOT being run by Skystar the War God anymore and they're no longer the biggest, baddest bananas in the bunch

(shadowclan is watching all of this and eating popcorn. moisturized. in their lane. unbothered.)

The climax here, between The Chosen and The Firstblood, is a battle that matches the chapter from COTC. They launch at each other, in a battle to the death.

The first Sunningrocks Battle.

They both wear "crowns" on their head, one custom made for Mossfire's short-furred head, and traditional, braided into Jumpfoot's long, lush fur.

As they claw, bite, and tumble, they plunge into the river.

Fighting and hissing, they try to pull apart to rise up for air-- and can't.

They're STUCK

The crowns became tangled in their skirmish, and neither one can work with the other to bring them both to shore, against the current.

Both heirs, the last with a proper claim to the throne, drown together in the river.

At the end of the bloodbath, the tone is very somber. The rules were meant to prevent The First Battle from ever happening again... but The Second Battle had just taken place.

The body count wasn't AS high as the First Battle, but it was still a bloody loss. Every Clan lost warriors. Even ShadowClan, who hadn't even been IN the conflict, checked its ranks to find that powerful warriors had run off to go fight with their Kin.

Now they could be buried with them, too.

And now, there was no proper heir. If any descendants were still kicking around, they were refusing to take a throne that so many cats had died for. Jumpfoot and Mossfire never emerged from the River, their bodies, and their legendary crowns, were never found.

At first I'd been considering Redscar being swapped to become a RiverClan Cleric, but now I'm thinking it actually makes sense he's still from ShadowClan. ShadowClan was the ONLY neutral group-- it's reasonable for the clans to turn and request their partiality.

So, Redscar peruses the options, having followed the situation from afar.

His choice, in the end, was The Deputy. The most experienced advisor who knew Riverstar, and probably tried to stay at his adopted daughter's side as well. The closest thing they'd had to a leader all along.

(Thought: Maybe this character will be the POV. Make it like a bit of a fake-out title, you THINK Riverstar's heir is Mossfire. But it's actually been this one all along.)

He creates his famous false sign, and from there, the five groups discussed how they could prevent this from ever happening again.

They create the Law of the Deputy, commanding that ALL Clans have a single Deputy who will inherit the Clan after the leader passes away, ending dynasties in WindCo and River Kingdom and centralizing power in the other 3.

With the massive losses that WindCo and River Kingdom experienced, they also restructure, forced to accept a lot of help from ThunderClan and ShadowClan.

The borders began to close up, leading to the sentiment that would lead to Commandment 4, the Law of Loyalty, in just one more generation.

[thevanillerose]

SCORCHED | YANDERE!TODOROKI x READER | MY HERO ACADEMIA

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

Stumbling. Collapsing. Staggering.

You were like a broken marionette, desperately scrambling to free yourself from the gargantuan flaming pyre which had once been your apartment building.

The events leading up to this moment were as hazy as the acrid fog of blackened smoke that hovered around you. Questions swirled like embers in the wind.  

Who lay at the root of all of this? Even you yourself would have struggled to believe it.

Todoroki. Todoroki Shoto. He was a boy of extremes you could say, but well enough liked by the students of U.A. High School. You had certainly liked him a lot, seeing past his cold, aloof nature, and always assuming there was something more that lay beneath it.  

In the end, you were right to feel that way. He really was a very complex guy.

In fact...he was far more complex than you had ever imagined.

Forget his past. Forget what he had gone through, and what he so often kept sealed away inside of himself. Forget his left side, and the history behind it.

For you...you were what truly became his vulnerability. Despite his best efforts, he simply couldn't resist you.  

Face. Voice. Manner. Was it possible for so many things about a single human being to be so flawless? Every time he laid eyes upon you, he yearned for you to be beside him.  

There was just one very big problem, besides his often unapproachable manner. A thorn in his side that was just determined to stick, and even more bitterly, was a 'friend'.

Midoriya asked you out. Midoriya.

 That wide-eyed fool who was less of a man and more of a child. Someone who wept and sniffled the moment anything got tragic, and yet he pretended to be tough. That was what Todoroki saw at least. A pathetic farce, put on to win your affections.

 The worst part? It had actually worked. When Todoroki initially heard that the green-haired imbecile had asked you out, he made the assumption that you would probably say no to him. No, he actually assumed it was definite. Yet...to his complete and utter surprise, you said yes.  

 Just like that, his chances had been shattered. True, Todoroki had never so much as revealed a centimeter of his feelings for you, but he always felt like you would wait until he was ready. When the time was right, you'd finally be together. So why...why would you do this?

 Why!? How could you!?

 It drove him mad trying to figure it out, and in the end...he snapped.

 It was a simple way to put it, but it also summed it up aptly. The last of his sanity slipped away thanks to a singular trigger, and of course, Midoriya was the one at the root of it.

 Was it creepy that the dual-haired boy was creeping outside the window of your apartment like some sort of red streaked spider? Yeah. Maybe. Was it bizarre that he chose to observe you both silently through the glass, ducking away whenever you happened to turn your heads? Sure.

 Still, in his messed up mind it was a necessity. How else, after all, was he supposed to keep a close eye on you and make sure things never went past hand-holding with this bastard?

 How else was he supposed to...scope things out?

 “Thanks for spending time with me today. I had a lot of fun, even if we just watched some movies.” you reached out and gave Midoriya's bouncy emerald hair a nice big ruffle. It was a habit you'd picked up, and it always made him blush. Whenever you saw his cheeks redden, you only fell that little bit more in love with him.

 “Yeah it was fun! Thanks, [Y/N].”

 Sure, at the start you had been in two minds. You still felt something for Todoroki, and that hadn't changed even now. Yet Midoriya had proven to just be the right one for you. He was so much kinder and funnier than you had ever imagined in the first place, and you could always feel your spirits lifting when you were around him.

 Simply put, things had changed. You'd fallen in love with him, and in turn, your attachment to Todoroki had swiftly faded.

 Yet as your affections drifted out of sight, something lit up within the darkness.

 Everything was fine up until that point. Initially you and Midoriya were happily relaxing on the plush carpet in your bedroom, eating some snacks and finishing off the final movie you were marathoning for the night. It was so nice to just spend some casual time with him outside of classes and all of that fighting too.  

 Neither of you were aware of what was about to happen when you kissed each other and said goodbye for the night. It never occurred to you even once that, as you stood there in the open doorway and watched him go down the corridor to the elevator, this would be the very last time you ever saw him. When you laid down to take a nap, you happily imagined him toddling away home, probably to dream about you too.  

 It was what you believed. So it seemed to be just right.

 That was not reality though.

 In reality, his charred cadaver was left jammed halfway through the doors, keeping the elevator from descending. Todoroki made sure to leave him there, so that not even in death he'd find any peace. After all, it had to be pretty bothersome, being repeatedly chewed on by a lift.

 Then there was the stairwell. Blocking the door was a given. Windows weren't much of an option anyway.

 Todoroki figured, that the only way to truly expel the rage he felt after watching you two kiss one another, was to burn this whole damn building to the ground. That included all the people inside of it, so he'd ensured that all the exits were turned to ash first and foremost.

 This was his revenge. If other people got caught up in it, that wasn't his problem. If you got caught up in it...well...

 He'd just have to make damn well sure that didn't happen. Everything would fall into place, he was certain.

 The only pity was that when the apartment building went up in amber and red, you had no means of seeing Midoriya's body. Todoroki had kind of been hoping you'd come across it first before realizing you were trapped, and that your sorrow would only increase grandly because of it. Alas...

 Instead, you couldn't even leave your own room. Everything caught fire so fast that you couldn't even touch your door handle, instead recoiling as the burning heat stung you.  

 “Shit! I can't believe this is happening!”

 You'd woken up to the sound of a blaring alarm, then nothing but the crackling of fire and the billowing sound of smoke as that too had ended up being melted and ultimately destroyed. The devastation was immeasurable, but you couldn't even pity others when you were literally on the verge of dying yourself.

 Climbing up onto your bed, you pressed your back firmly into the corner of the wall and huddled up desperately. You continued to hold yourself, blocking everything out, and thinking only of Midoriya.

Midoriya...Midoriya help me! Save me! Please!!

 “M...Midoriya...Midoriya help me...help me...” you even stuttered out, expecting no answer.

 Yet...you got one.

 “'Midoriya, ohh Midoriya, help me!'...Get a hold of yourself, [Y/N].”

 A taunting imitation. Slowly, you pulled your face out from behind your knees, raising your tear-stained visage so you could look up.

 “Seriously. You aren't calling anyone, and you're hiding on top of a wooden bed with flammable fabric, not even bothering to get any oxygen. Fire safety 101. Are you insane?”

 His voice didn't seem real, nor did his face. You were near delirious, not just with the smoke, but with the shock of it all. He was a blur of red, white and blue.

 “You're lucky I came by when I did...you're especially lucky that you're not already dead.”

 Todoroki gazed down at you, standing on the bed and staring right into the corner where you sat. It really was a miracle in some ways, though he had of course never intended to let you fry up like the rest of these pointless people. No...you were the only one among them who he would save. Firefighters didn't get to be choosy, but he did.

 You were the only one who was worth anything to him now.

 Plus things had worked out sweetly enough. You may not have seen Midoriya reduced to a lump of coal, but he could weave his absence into this faux storyline he was creating nonetheless.  

 “If only Midoriya had actually come. With all that begging, and knowing you were here, I wonder why he didn't...”

 Todoroki trailed off for a moment, and slowly, creepily, tilted his head to the side. His eyes went a little wider, pupils shrinking. The fire raged on in the hallway, creating an ambient crackling.

 “I mean, he should have, if he truly loved you, right? Maybe he didn't though. Maybe he just wanted you out of the way so he could find someone else--”

 “That's not true! You must have--” you managed to blurt out, trying to push him back. You barely graced his ankle before your body sank back against the corner again, eyes fluttering and showing the whites. Todoroki dropped to a crouch before you, remaining on his haunches and eyeing you up and down with an ever calm expression.

 “...You must have...done this...”

 Todoroki merely tutted. Of course you jumped to conclusions, but that wasn't an issue for him. He'd deal with those assumptions in due course...once this little introduction to your new life together was concluded.

 It would end in one of two ways. Either you'd willingly go with him, and he'd save you. Or, you'd push yourself away, try to get out or find your beloved, and he'd still do the same.  

 After all, he'd gone to the effort of making sure you had nowhere to go, nothing else, nobody to turn to, and no other choices. All of it had gone up in flames, and you were all that remained in this former haven, a place you'd so lovingly shared with Midoriya every evening. It would be a shame not to salvage you...

 “It's not going to be long before the flames burn down your door. You're already on the verge of passing out, do you really think you can survive for much longer?”

 Truly, your vision was blotted. You sank lower and lower, feeling like you might keel over and fall off the bed entirely, until it actually happened.

 The sheets slipped away, your carpet saying hello instead. But your hand shot out to stop the fall at the last second, nails digging desperately into the fibers.

I wake up to my entire apartment building on fire...and the only person who shows up, is Todoroki.

That's not a good coincidence.

 Adrenaline surged through your body all of a sudden, and you thrust yourself up off the ground, making a straight beeline for the door. Todoroki's power would match perfectly with what had happened here, and you didn't want to stick around for what else he had planned. Why he had it planned in the first place, you didn't know. You just knew that you had to get away from him.

 “[Y/N]! You're going to die if you go out there!”

 You only believed him once you actually did. Ignoring the searing pain in your hand after opening the handle, you burst out into the corridor, which was a mess of tumbling charred wood and spitting flames. Gagging on the strong stench of pure smoke, you had to push yourself onwards.

Todoroki has changed sides, and he's coming after all his friends! Right!? That explains everything, doesn't it!?

 Why else? Yes indeed...the thought that it might have stemmed from jealousy never occurred to you. It seemed too far-fetched, since your love for him had always seemed so one-sided.

 Whether this fire had been deliberate or not, you had to get out of here regardless. You only hoped that Midoriya was okay. That he'd escaped from here in time. When had this even started happening!? As soon as you'd fallen asleep!?

 Maybe it had only been a short time. Maybe he was still in this tall building somewhere!

 “MIDORI--AH!” you cried out, or tried to at least. Yet your own choke cut yourself off, and that seemed to be the final gasp of energy within you. Your legs truly caved then, the burning floor rushing to slam against your spine as you fell backwards.

 Before you could collapse though, a pair of hands met your back and lifted you up. Up and up, saving you from the roaring rage that sought to consume you along with everyone and everything else. It was almost like you were ascending somewhere, being spirited away.

 That was when your face met his firm chest, his arms wrapping around you fully. Todoroki held you tightly to him, as if determined to never let you go. And by all means, he was.

 Todoroki 'saved you', never once revealing that it was he who was responsible for laying the embers in the first place.  

 This was to be your 'fresh start'. He'd disinfected the wound in your life, the horrible gash that not just Midoriya, but all those around you had left. Torching this entire complex had rid the world of many people who knew you, many people who were especially close to you.

 People who no longer served any purpose in Todoroki's opinion. Not when he was here for you instead now.

 Finally, the love between you could flourish...

 …

 Time passed...and you never went back to your old home.

 Instead, after allowing you to stay with him, Todoroki became your new roommate, your new neighbor...and your new lover.

 Going along with the notion that the apartment block had been destroyed by some kind of boiler malfunction, you started to become convinced. You started to believe, even when initially he seemed like the prime suspect. You started to blame Midoriya, assuming that he really had abandoned you and everyone else, since of course there was no trace of his body now.

 “It's like I said, [Y/N]. He didn't want to risk his own skin to save you. That's how much he really cared.”

Yes. He's absolutely right. You never did care...did you, Midoriya?

 In time, thoughts of the green-haired boy faded, and they were replaced with those of the one who had now become your lover. His scarred face, his white and scarlet locks, the slight smirks he would give you now and then. This was the person who you began to recognize as your one, true love.

 When he kissed you, it felt right.

 When he hugged you, it felt even better.

 When you connected intimately, his voice in your ear, hands on your body...he made you forget all about your former lover.

 To think. At one point in time you had assumed he was the one who had caused that disaster. Now though...you could no longer suspect him as a villain. Never.

 No...not Todoroki.

Because you loved him.  

You loved him. 

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[miniwrites1]

Shattered - Theo Nott (Part 3)

Words | 800 Warnings | Angst | Death (Not reader or Theo) Pairings | Theo Nott x Reader Inspo | slytherinboy..povs on TikTok Links to PART 1 | PART 2

Two months later…

Theo felt a burning sensation on his forearm, his stomach lurched at the feeling. He was being summoned for the first time since being forced to take the mark.

He arrived at Malfoy Manor within the hour, joining over fifty other death eaters around the grand table in the Malfoy’s dining room.

The Dark Lord hadn’t arrived yet, the room buzzing with chatter from the newly recruited, pure-blood students and older members alike. Theo felt a hand firmly grasp his shoulder.

“Theodore.” Nott Senior, Theo’s father rasped coldly. Theo felt ice run through his veins.

“Father.” He nodded curtly. The tension was palpable between them, years of hatred and mistreatment weighed heavily on Theo’s shoulders.

“The Dark Lord will be here soon. Do not embarrass me boy.”

Theo nodded curtly again, not wanting to anger his father. He would much rather be forgotten by him.

The mindless chatter ceased as the grand doors slid open, revealing the Dark Lord who almost seemed to be gliding across the room to his chair. You could hear a pin drop, the death eaters surrounding Theo barely breathed as they waited for the Dark Lord to address them.

“It seems we have traitors amongst us…” The Dark Lord drawled, breathing softly. His beady eyes scanned across his army, scanning for one particular person.

“Severus.” The Dark Lord, spoke softly. Snape leant down to hear the command given to him, his eyes also scanned the crowd, locking eyes with Theo.

Theo’s eyes widened slightly, the stoic mask slipping slightly through fear. Snape marched quickly towards him, grasped his arm and apparated away.

Nott Senior gawked at what had happened in front of him, glancing between the death eaters and the Dark Lord himself.

“Nagini… Kill him.” The last thing Nott Senior saw was the jaws of a snake lunging for his neck.

“Professor, what is this?” Theo asked cautiously as he found himself in a room that he recognised, Lucius Malfoy’s study. He and Draco had often played in the room as children, much to Lucius’ displeasure.

“The Dark Lord believes you know something Mister Nott.” Snape spoke calmly, a tone so calm that it unsettled Theo. “And he’s asked me to access that information.”

“I don’t understand Professor. I don’t know what he wants.” Theo felt his fear rising, he felt like a small child again, being mistreated by his father.

Snape raised his wand at him, Theo reached for his own wand a split second too late.

“Crucio.”

A blood curdling scream rang out through the manor as Theo’s body hit the floor, writhing in pain. His breaths came in jagged gasps, beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. The pain didn’t ease as Snape kept the curse on him for what felt like minutes, even though it was a matter of seconds.

“I have to break down your barriers Mister Nott, it will make finding the information the Dark Lord needs much easier. Crucio.” Theo writhed again, gasping for breath, his mouth open in a noiseless scream. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Legilimens.”

Theo felt the invasion in his mind immediately, a searing pain in his head.

“Please professor! Stop!” Theo yelled, trying to push himself up. His body was weak from the curses that were cast on him, his muscles unable to support him. He collapsed back to the floor, his breaths heavy.

“You know the daughter of the traitors?” Snape asked as he rifled through Theo’s memories. Theo nodded, his face screwed up in anguish, he finally knew what the Dark Lord wanted.

“Please professor, her parents mean everything to her. Please don’t do this.” Theo begged, losing your parents would break you, he couldn’t let it happen.

He fought in his mind, trying to remember back to the small amount of occlumency that his mother had taught him before she passed. He tried to build barriers.

“Do not fight me Mister Nott. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

Slowly, Theo built barriers around the memory he knew Snape was looking for. The memory of the letter, the address, your parents safe house.

“I told you. Do. Not. Fight. Me.” Snape hissed as he continued searching Theo’s mind. “Crucio.” Theo’s head snapped back to the floor as he writhed again, letting out another scream of pain. The barriers around the memories broke, giving Snape free access to them. Tears leaked from Theo’s eyes, from the pain and from the thought of you, devastated and alone.

“Just kill me professor. Tell him I couldn’t take it; tell him you didn’t find anything. Please.” Theo begged softly, breathless, his vision ebbing at the sides.

“Those are not my orders Mister Nott.” Snape rasped, finally leaving Theo’s mind as the darkness took over, sending him into a dark, dreamless sleep.

Link to PART 4

[rokishimizu4]

Green Lantern and his run-in with a spider.

(I have figured it out! Tomato soup, Sudafed, and being sick makes me feral as fuck! So be prepared cause I’m still sick and it’s probably not ending anytime soon.) TW: Arachnophobia (But it’s not a real spider, just a spider made of copper)

Hal Jordan was not made for long nights of all work and no play, or traveling on and off Earth to exchange information with the other Green Lanterns.

He all but collapses on his dirty bed, still as the Green Lantern, only to jump up with the most manliness scream known to man as he comes face to face with Red Robin, who was sitting right next to his bed (waiting in the dark and quiet). “Don’t fucken do that kid! I about hit you!”

”You couldn’t hit the red side of a barn with a bottle.” The kid replays with an exhausted grunt, clearly the kid is back to his own bullshit of not sleeping properly, which is very valid to Hal.

”Why are you even here? It’s like.. 4 in the fucken morning or something.” Hal mumbles as he tries to get comfortable, only to feel something hard under his stomach. Which he properly searches his bed and finds a small spider made of melted copper.

“Oh come the fuck on…” Green Lantern grumbles as he grabs the spider and tosses it towards Red Robin. “Your turn kid. Not it.”

Red Robin grabs it and checks it over, finding a small note etched into the under belly of the spider.

“Look to the stars, and find the trail of powered Kryptonie.” Red Robin reads out loud, and looks at Green Lantern for a clue.

”Isn’t that the stuff that Superman’s made out of, or wait. He is weak to that. It’s like the Red Sun and magic.” Hal rolls out of his bed and moves to stand up, but notices that someone else had joined the later night party.

A, fucken, giant copper spider crawls into Hal’s apartment through the OPEN window, and settles itself on the floor near a confused Red Robin.

”FUCK THAT!” Green Lantern and Red Robin screams in pure panic as they both rush away from the giant spider and barrel into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind them.

“Green Lantern to JL, you have five seconds to come to my location before I burn this building down!!” “Red Robin to Oracle, how do you kill a giant copper spider, without burning the room down?”

The noises of confused panic is the only response that Green Lantern and Red Robin make out as they both try to figure out how to get out of the bathroom without destroying the entire room, as the bathroom window was too small for Red Robin to crawl out of.

Cue a few hours later, really only 10 minutes later, and another heart attack, due to Martian Manhunter popping his head in the bathroom through the wall, until Red Robin and Green Lantern were able to safely come out of the bathroom.

Only to see that the giant, LIVING, copper spider, and the fake small cooper spider were gone, and the message was now written on a piece of golden paper laying on Green Lantern’s side table, near his bed.

To say that Hal Jordan decided to spend the night, and a few more nights, in the JL Headquarters would be an understatement, as would Red Robin switching to patrolling in the daytime hours for a little while be as well.

At least until Batman figures out the meaning of the message, and receiving an envelope with an apologetic letter and a promise that no more copper spider visits for Green Lantern and Red Robin.

”Are we SURE that it’s not some cosmic gremlin child playing pranks on us? Does it not know how else to send out a letter? Does it not have a phone or email?” Green Lantern complains for weeks later from this experience.

[gyupinkys]

PLEASE?

JUN X FEM READER

Bestfriends to lovers since exclusive fairytale is driving me insane…

WC:1.6K

WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, switch jun, switch reader, oral (m receiving), fingering, creampie, begging, mentions of viagra, begging

Moving into college is hard. It’s your second year, yet every new dorm is equally as much of a hassle. You finally flop onto your bed after hanging up all your clothes only to be met with the rumbling of your stomach. 

“God, I should've eaten breakfast.” you mumble to yourself, thankful your roommate is nowhere to be found.

You begrudgingly get up and walk out, head deep into your phone trying to find the nearest dining hall on the campus map. You find the closest one to you is only a few buildings over, just to crash into someone in front of you, making you stumble back.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry” you say looking up at the tall blonde. 

“Nah, it's my bad. I was too into my phone, I'm trying to find a dining hall.” he says in a deep, smooth voice. Damn. He’s really fucking hot. The unnatural blonde suits him so well, and his cat-like eyes are incredibly attractive. 

“I’m actually looking for one too. There's one a few buildings over, you want to go with me?”

“Sure.”

From then a beautiful friendship bloomed. You learned his name is Jun, he’s from china, he speaks mandarin, cantonese, and korean. He loves to dance. His best friend/roommate's name is Minghao who is also from China and has bright red hair so it would be hard to miss him on campus. He used to be a child actor, but got into business so he can take over his dad’s company, and most importantly he is filthy rich. He didn’t even bother to say he’s “Comfortable” like most rich people do, he just said “I can pay all four years of full tuition with no worries.” which told you everything you needed to know. You and Jun quickly became friends, attached to the hip would be an understatement. Wherever you went, best believe Jun would be there. He became your go-to person. If you needed something he would get it for you, if you needed help he would be there, he was even there to ice your nipples when you got them pierced. You lost all shame when it came to Jun, he was your person. So when you walk into your room one day, just to see Jun laying shirtless in your bed, covered in sweat, with his dick in his hands, and your panties to his nose, you’re beyond confused. 

“Jun?” you say with wide eyes, quickly shutting the door.

“I’m sorry Y/N, Hoshi tricked me and gave me chocolate but it was some sort of fucking viagra and now I can’t stop thinking about you and I’m sorry if this is weird and ruins our relationship and i know I should’ve just went to my room, but I know your roommate and hao are in there and I really wanted to see you and I knew you could help me-”

“Jun, slow down what?”

“Y/N, please fuck me.” he says with a whine.

You feel like you could collapse right now. 

You slowly walk up to him and take his chin into your hand, raising his face to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Y/N. Please.”

You straddle his thighs and kiss him and take his dick into your hands, beginning to stroke it making him groan. “Jun, how long have you felt like this?”

“Since you bumped into me in the hallway. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” he says and leans forward to kiss you again. He runs his hands across your body and squeezes your ass. 

“Baby, please let me fuck you.”

“Jun, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Imagine how crazy you drove me every time you bent over only wearing one of my shirts, every time you wore a shirt with no bra, touched me in a certain way, looked at me with those pretty eyes, smiled at me. I’ve wanted to make you mine for so long, to be able to call you my girl.”

You smile at him, a bright, beautiful smile, making his heart skip a beat. You lean back and take off your shirt, his hands immediately flying to your chest, squeezing them.

“When I saw these tits for the first time I popped a boner. I had to pretend I was fine seeing your nipples pebble up from the ice.”

“I wish you did what you were thinking. You helping me made me sooo wet.”

He runs his hands to your sweatpants and pulls them down, helping you get off leaving you in just your panties. He sits up and kisses up your chest and around your face. He kisses your forehead, then your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your jaw, and finally your lips.

“Please fuck me, Jun.”

He flips the two of you over pulling off his sweats and boxers. “Where are your condoms?” 

“You don’t need one.”

“Baby, are you sure?”

“Yes Jun! Just fill me up already.” you whine.

He groans into your neck, running his fingers through your folds, only to find you ridiculously wet. “All this just for me?” he smirks at you, slowly circling his finger on your clit. 

“Yes, Jun”

“You flatter me, Baby.”

He runs his fingers down and plunges two straight into your hole, cutting to the chase and feeling around for your G-spot. He knows he found it when your back arches off the bed and you grab his hair, pulling his lips to yours. He continues thrusting up into your sweet spot, making your toes curl. You pull his hair and look into his eyes. 

“I want to cum on your cock, Junnie.”

“And exactly when I think I couldn’t be more in love with you, you surprise me.” he says with a smile. “But no.” he says as his eyes darken.

“What the fuck do you mean no?” you say in shock.

“I mean, you’ll cum when I let you cum.”

“Jun, stop teasing.”

“I can show you what real teasing looks like, Baby.” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you and slips them into your mouth as you're about to rebuttal.

He pulls you up by your hair and pushes you to your knees. “You know what to do Baby, I’ve heard first hand about how much of a whore you are.”

You groan but lick his leaking tip while looking into his eyes. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, '' you say challengingly. 

He looks into your eyes and shrugs. “I guess I’ll have to show you.”

He hooks his fingers into your mouth to widen it and shoves his dick straight into your mouth without giving you any time to adjust. He begins to thrust into your mouth and straight down your throat making you gag, but his fingers make you unable to close your mouth. You look at him with pleading eyes, but the tears running down your face only turns him on more. He decides he’s had enough. He needs to fuck that soaking wet pussy or he might actually die. He grabs your hand and throws you on the bed. 

“Spread your legs.”

You obey but you're plotting. Is he forgetting he was the one desperate for you to touch him? Now he wants to be in charge? Not on your watch. As he bottoms out in you, you let out a loud moan to distract him and flip him over. 

“Junnie, I think you’re forgetting you’re the one who's in desperate need of somewhere to dump their cum. You’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.” you say and grind your hips into him, making his eyes roll back.

“I want you to beg for me.”

Without missing a beat he starts to beg. “Please fuck me Y/N, I need it. I feel like I'm gonna explode. You're so warm and tight I feel like I’m in heaven. Please help me, baby.”

You raise your hips and his hips chase you, making it so you don't raise off his dick. “Jun, how am I gonna ride you if you don’t let me up.”

He groans and glues his hips to the bed, letting you begin to bounce. You feel like he’s in your guts, moving your insides around to accommodate him. 

“God, Jun you feel so good.” you moan out as you bounce faster, ignoring the burn in your thighs.  He thrusts meeting your hips as you bounce, pushing his dick deeper into you. His hands travel to your clit, pressing firmly and rubbing tight circles. “Please cum baby, cum on my cock, I’m so close.”

Seeing him so pathetic beneath you does something to you. You grind harder, feeling his tip hit your spot everytime, throwing you over the edge. As soon as he feels the first squeeze of your cunt he lets go, filling you up completely, causing some to spill out of you onto his thighs. He pulls you down for a kiss, holding you as you come down from your orgasm. 

He looks you in the eye when he whispers “I love you” against your lips.

As the sun shines through your windows, you awake with a smile on your face. It feels so good to finally be in Jun’s arms as his girlfriend. You sit up and stretch making him get up with you. He wraps his hands around your waist. “I’m hungry,” he says. 

“You want me to order you something?”

“No, I’m hungry for something else. I missed out on eating it yesterday” he smirks and drags you down onto the bed with him.

A/N: LMK if you want a part 2 with her roommate and how? I'm thinking a forced proximity kind of thing.