#I would be so powerful if I could create music....
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
Hi Rosie! You know what I've realized now that Chapter 2 is coming to an end? How fucking obsessed certain people are with Jikook, as individuals and most especially, as a duo.
I've seen the same groups of people, same accounts, tkkrs and jm/jk solos alike; it almost seems like they come from the same breed. I know we have a lot of hidden tkkrs all over, but man, can't keep Jikook out of their mouths.
I mean, if I was not interested in someone or something, you couldn't force me to talk about it or even watch or read related content. Why the hell would I waste my time??
But for some reason, these people kept yapping about Jikook and how they weren't close, spreading harmful rumours, etc, and for what? These two have served together. It doesn't change reality. I wonder if they'll realize that we know they're just trying to convince themselves and would rather continue living in delusion and lies.
24/7 365 days/yr. Their accounts are full of Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook, and Jikook instead of their supposed stans or duos. I guess they don't have anything going on in real life. Imagine being this obsessed and affected by people who don't even know who they are and pathetically think they can alter reality, or even Jikook's bond in real life.
PS I do believe that the majority of tkkrs who "ship" them all rely on lies and manipulations, but even more so on tkk fanfiction, which they let bleed into real life, and now they can't distinguish it. I feel so icky and creeped out when I saw humanlouvre's, or wtv, drawings. Tkkrs/jjk solos and even jm solos are hardcore y/ns.
The vecinas and solos are like the K-poppies of the fandom. You know how K-poppies are obsessed with BTS? They can’t go five minutes without mentioning them, trying to discredit their achievements, downplaying their talent, and acting like the power BTS holds is just a fluke? They desperately wish their faves could be everything BTS is, yet deep down they know it’s impossible. It eats them alive that BTS is not just the best group the industry has ever seen but also one of the greatest musical acts in the world, full stop. They’ve got this weird, imaginary competition in their heads where it’s always BTS vs their faves, even though BTS is in a completely different league. K-poppies just can’t stand it—they’re living in constant frustration, knowing their faves will never measure up.
Well, that’s exactly how Tkkrs and solo stans act when it comes to Jimin and Jungkook. They’re obsessed in the same way—constantly trying to undermine their bond, their individual achievements, and the unique connection they share. It’s like they can’t handle the fact that Jimin and Jungkook are not only thriving but doing so unapologetically and on their own terms. They twist narratives, push ridiculous agendas, and project their insecurities onto them, desperately trying to create drama where there’s none. Just like K-poppies, they’ve built this imaginary rivalry—sometimes between Jimin and Jungkook themselves, or with other members. And for what? Because they can’t accept the reality that Jimin and Jungkook are just… happy together? Smashing records every day?
Honestly, it’s exhausting to see the same pattern repeat itself. Instead of respecting Jimin and Jungkook’s choices and achievements, they’d rather tear them down and live in denial. But, at the end of the day, just like BTS, Jimin and Jungkook keep winning—and that’s what really drives them mad.
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Next to My Husband
Summary: Penelope can't believe Odysseus is really home, and he claims he isn't the man he once was. But one final test reveals the truth, and husband and wife reunite at long last.
~ 2770 words. Set during "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again" in the Ithaca Saga of Epic: the Musical and expands on their reunion. Angst, Romance, Fluff. Check the tags for additional info. POV Penelope.
Penelope waited in her chambers, staring out the open window facing the sea. For a long time, she had despised it for taking her husband away from her. How many nights had she spent staring at it, hoping, wishing, praying he would come home? And now Telemachus claimed he had returned.
It was too good to be true. Odysseus was dead. He had drowned or perished on some faraway island. She was in denial like so many other widows of the Trojan War. This was just a dream, nothing more.
She faintly heard her name called out, and then the door to her chambers creaked open. A man stood there, looking utterly haggard and ragged in the torchlight. He quite literally wore rags, his clothes were stained with blood, scars littered his body, and his dark hair and beard were matted. His eyes were red instead of the brown she remembered. But the way he looked at her…
She swallowed and stood. It had been so long since she had seen Odysseus that she wasn't sure if she could trust her eyes to tell her the truth.
“Is it really you? Have my prayers been answered? Or am I dreaming once more?” she asked.
He smiled sadly. “It's hard to believe, I know.”
She hesitated, then took a few steps closer to him. “Forgive me, but you look different. Your eyes are tired and your frame is lighter. Even your smile is different. It's so torn. Is it really you, my love?”
If this man really was her husband, he had changed so much in the intervening years that her heart and mind were having trouble coming to terms with the differences. She was a practical woman out of necessity, but all those painful days and sleepless nights longing for him to return had created a phantom lurking in her mind, a spectre made up of memories and longing. Her phantom husband was not the same as the man before her now—he was young and kind and optimistic, not middle-aged and jaded and haunted.
But then again, she was hardly the same woman either. She was also middle-aged now, and exhausted, and cautious. Naivety was the luxury of fools. She’d had to be clever and cunning and deceitful to survive. To raise Telemachus and keep the kingdom running and hold the suitors at bay.
His face fell. “I’m not the man you fell in love with,” he admitted, and she was confused for a moment before he continued. “The man you once adored—he's long gone.” That haunted look returned to his eyes, and he hung his head in shame. “I'm not your kind and gentle husband, and I don't deserve to be called your love. Because I'm not that man, not anymore. I don't even know that I deserve to be called a man after what I've done.” He ran a shaking hand through his shaggy hair.
She wasn't sure what to say. If he truly was a monster, he wouldn't feel remorse. But those blood-soaked clothes certainly spoke for themselves. The servants were currently cleaning up the aftermath of his killing spree that had left 108 men dead. And yet he had done it for a reason. Telemachus had told her it was to protect them. He had spelled out their horrible plans, the ghastly fate Odysseus had spared them from. Any good husband and father would do everything in his power to stop such an awful plot directed at his family. It was just difficult to wrap her mind around how far Odysseus had gone.
The world was a cruel place, to turn her kind, gentle husband into a ruthless killer.
He mistook her silence for judgment. “I know you've been waiting for the man who was once your love,” he said, and there were tears glistening in his red eyes and shadows on his face from the flickering torchlight. “But you don't know what all I've done, and I can't change the past. How could you ever love me if I told you?”
“Try me," she said softly, like this was another one of the riddles or puzzles or challenges they always used to make for one another. “What kinds of things did you do?”
She wanted to know. Wanted to find out what he had done, what spectres haunted him.
“Left a trail of red on every island,” he told her. “Traded my friends like they were just objects I could use. Hurt more lives than I can count.”
He continued telling her what he had done, and though it made her stomach turn, she appreciated his honesty. He wasn't sugarcoating his behavior or pretending his dark deeds hadn't happened or weren't his fault. When she had seen him off to war, she had hardly expected him to keep his hands clean. But the war had ended a decade ago, and his journey back to her side had taken another decade and even more bloodshed.
Yes, the world was cruel to drive a man like her husband to commit such atrocities. She could only hope the world would be less cruel for their son. A kind, peaceful world where good men never had to be ruthless to make it home alive…where good men didn't have to leave for war in the first place…if only.
But she was Penelope, Queen of Ithaca, and the scarred, bloodstained, haggard man before her was claiming to be her husband and king. She would leave speculation pertaining to ideal worlds to the philosophers and any actual execution of said ideals to the gods. Penelope of Ithaca for her part would continue to deal with reality.
“And why did you do these things?” she asked, her voice careful and stoic as she paced the room, her expression keeping up the façade of a judge.
“All of it was to bring me back to you,” he said, his voice breaking at the torment he'd been through, at what he still tortured himself with, and her heart broke along with it.
If this was a false Odysseus, he certainly sounded like the real thing.
“If you want nothing to do with me,” he continued, “I understand. Just say the word and I'll be gone forever.” He dared to take a step closer to her. “But if you could find it in yourself to fall in love with me again, not the man I was but the monster I am now, please, tell me.”
He pleaded with her with his entire being. His arms and legs trembled, his eyes begged her, and she could sense how badly he wanted to embrace her.
A part of her wanted to cave completely, to take him in her arms and smother his face with kisses. But she had one more test. One final question to confirm he wasn't an illusion and to make sure he was still her husband deep down. Was he still the same man she had fallen in love with all those years ago, or had the years changed him too much like he seemed to think?
She suspected he needed this test as much as she did.
“If that's true,” she said at last, “if you really have done those things and you really are a monster like you say, could you do me a favor? Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace.”
She gestured to their bed, to where they had spent so many lovely evenings together and where she had spent countless more agonizing nights alone. “See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here.”
It was a trick question, one only Odysseus would know the answer to.
His face twisted in pain. “How could you say this? I built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat. I carved it into the olive tree where we first met. It's a symbol of our everlasting love.” His voice got louder and angrier, and it was clear he was wounded deeply by her request. “Do you realize what you’ve just asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots.”
His unspoken meaning lingered in the air. He didn't want to destroy the symbol of their love or the reality behind it any more than she did. And that meant he was still her husband, despite what he might think.
She couldn't test him any longer. She smiled as tears filled her eyes. “Only my husband knew that, so I guess that makes him you.”
His eyes widened. “Penelope…” So much meaning and emotion behind a single word. Twenty years worth of longing and waiting. Oh how she had wanted for him to say her name again. To hear his voice once more.
She cupped his cheek, and he melted into her touch, the tears streaming down his face. “I will fall in love with you over and over again,” she promised him through her own tears. “I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been, you're mine.” She stroked the faded scar on his cheek that he'd gotten from that boar hunt all those years ago. “Don't tell me you're not the same person. You're always my husband, and I've been waiting for you.”
He threw his arms around her, holding her close like his life depended on it, saying her name over and over again. He had been through so much to come home, to return to her. There would be consequences for his actions—trials he must endure and people he must face. But they would deal with all that together. And they would do it tomorrow. Tonight, he didn't need lectures or judgments or reckonings.
He needed his wife.
She pulled away a little and searched his face, then leaned closer, closer till her lips brushed against his. His breath caught, and then he was kissing her back with all the desire and passion of the last twenty years spent apart. One hand wove its way into her hair and his other arm wrapped around her waist, and she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against him.
He deepened the kiss, and her mind flew back, back to all the times they had done this before. To their first kiss under the olive tree that was now their bed. While they were older and more experienced, their eagerness and passion now reminded her of then.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless. She very much wanted to continue, but he insisted on cleaning up first. So she sent the servants to fetch water and heat rocks for the bath. When everything was ready, she glanced at Odysseus.
He still hadn't removed his bloody rags, and he stared at the water with fear in his eyes.
He’d never been afraid of water before. All those years at sea…had he almost drowned?
“Ody?” she gently asked, using his old nickname as she placed a hand on his arm.
“Poseidon has had his revenge after all,” was his cryptic response. “I don't think I'll ever be able to enter a body of water without panicking.” He smiled ruefully. “I can torture a god with his own weapon and slaughter over a hundred men in a single day, but taking a bath is beyond me.”
She glanced at the tub. It really wasn't that big, just large enough for the two of them. Maybe they could start small and he would get used to being in the water again.
“I'll join you,” she said, then carefully unfastened the fibulae holding her peplos in place as he watched. As the garment slipped off her, she had a brief moment of uncertainty and grabbed the fabric. He hadn't seen her in twenty years. Would he still find her aging body beautiful? He’d probably met plenty of stunning mortal women and breathtaking goddesses on his journeys. How could she possibly hope to compare—
He gently grasped her hand and led it away from her body, letting the peplos slip off completely. The way his eyes traveled up and down her body, the hunger and yearning in his gaze, she knew her fears were unfounded.
“You're even more beautiful than I remembered,” he told her, putting her fears to rest for good. He embraced her and kissed her softly, tenderly, and she gently tugged at his rags. Normally, it was the servants’ job to undress and bathe the king, but she wanted to be the one to help him.
When she’d gotten all the rags off at last, she wanted to cry. His scars were even more visible and numerous now. She knew each one carried a story of pain and suffering and survival, and she wanted to know them all.
He misunderstood her expression, shame crawling up his face and driving him to look away from her. She quickly put a stop to that when she kissed the scar on his right shoulder.
“You're more handsome to me than ever, my love. These scars are signs of your survival. Wear them proudly.”
He searched her face and then kissed her again, and they spent quite a while kissing and touching before finally making it to the bath. He braved the water with her by his side, and she carefully cleaned every inch of him. Washed away the blood and the sweat and the grime. Ran her hands through his tangled, matted hair until there were no more snarls or knots. And he carefully washed her too, washed away the fear and sweat and deceit until she felt completely clean.
When they were through, he looked much more like himself again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and was about to kiss him when a bright light flashed. When she could see again, it took her a moment to realize Odysseus was still with her, because her husband quite literally looked like a god. He was taller and stronger than ever before, and his hair graced his broad shoulders in thick dark curls. Going by his expression, she had undergone a similarly miraculous transformation.
Then he smiled, a smile so big and bright it lit up the whole room and made her smile too. “Thank you, oh goddess of wisdom, for your support in my romantic endeavors,” he called out to someone she couldn't see, “but I would've taken my wife to bed all the same.”
He grinned and swept her into his arms, and Penelope could've sworn she heard an owl hooting in return. But soon all thoughts of their divine supporter fled their minds as Odysseus carried her to their wedding bed.
Twenty years of absence could not easily be undone in a single night, but they were willing to try. Especially because the night went on and on and on, almost as if Someone was asking Dawn to wait until husband and wife were fully sated.
When at last they were, Penelope smiled and played with Odysseus’s hair as they cuddled together. His eyes weren't red anymore. They were back to their beautiful, natural brown. A sign that he wasn’t a god or monster but just a man.
“How long has it been?” she asked, knowing her answer but wanting to know his.
He grasped her hand and tenderly kissed it. “Twenty years,” he said softly.
Her lips parted. So he had been faithful after all. She had been faithful too, hoping and waiting and longing for his return.
“Twenty years,” she echoed to confirm his unspoken question.
They told each other everything after that, all that had transpired in each other's absences. Athena must be still helping them at this point because Dawn still hadn't arrived, and yet Penelope somehow had the energy to tell Odysseus everything and listen to his tales in return.
When he was through, he caressed her cheek as the first rays of Dawn spread across the sky.
“I love you,” he said, the words simple but profound. Like he was grateful she knew everything and yet still accepted him.
She smiled and kissed his hand. "I love you too.”
They'd both been through so much. She had worn herself ragged raising their son single-handedly and running the kingdom, and she had lied to the suitors. Odysseus had done such terrible things to make it home, had killed so many people. And yet she knew the man lying next to her wasn't a monster. He had much to atone for, but he was her husband, and he always would be.
————————————————————————
A/N: This story was such a joy to write. A big thank you to @aquariusshadow for introducing me to Epic and reading over the story for me and giving her suggestions, and a big thank you to @scoobysnack1107 as well for also reading and providing feedback ❤️ I love Greek mythology and musicals, so Epic is like the perfect combination of two of my interests that I never knew I needed.
Just a few notes about the writing process: I wanted to incorporate how Odysseus’s eyes turn red in the animatics for the song “Odysseus,” and how they seem a little less red when he reunites with Telemachus and Penelope. Also, all the stuff with Athena being his wingwoman is actually legitimately from the Odyssey (giving him a glow up, delaying dawn for him and Penelope, etc.), which cracked me up. I read the 23rd book before I wrote this story in preparation, and you truly cannot make these things up. Also, the scar from the boar hunt is on Odysseus's foot in the Odyssey, but I moved it to his face for this story. I also went down a research rabbit hole about ancient Greek baths and clothing to make sure those details were more accurate, and that was a fun diversion. And of course I loved including the callbacks to “Just a Man,” incorporating the lyrics of "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again,” and exploring Penelope's mindset more.
I feel really lucky to have gotten into Epic right before the Ithaca Saga released. It's been such a fun journey, or shall we say, Odyssey 😎 Congrats to all the cast and crew for all their hard work! And thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed! ❤️
#odysseus x penelope#odypen#odysseus/penelope#epic the musical#epic the ithaca saga#the ithaca saga#ithaca saga#epic musical#etm#epic odysseus#epic penelope#odysseus#penelope#odysseus of ithaca#penelope of ithaca#the odyssey#phoenix writes#phoenix–downer#long post#would you fall in love with me again#reunion#angst#fluff#romance#kissing#bathing together#fade to black#athena#athena best wingwoman#or should I say best winggoddess
17 notes
·
View notes
Note
If you're not sure how to do music you could also do a jukebox musical where you use already existing music for the show. You just tweak it or change the context of the music :D
TRUE
you're so very right, however the part that attracts me the most about writing a musical is the creating the music part 🥺 I love music sm, and I love listening to videos about music theory and the intentional and clever choices that composers make, even if a lot of it goes over my head 😔
#I would be so powerful if I could create music....#maybe if I just keep trying at it eventually smth will click and I'll Understand it#thanks for the ask!!!#asks
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Hogwarts Legacy MC ✨Serena Kosmos ✨
#i've been trying to create this for MONTHS#i've just realized this is the first ever character sheet i've ever drawn and it was so much fun to do#fun fact: Serena's hair brooch is based on my first ever tattoo that i designed to commemorate my first year teaching public school#Luna the cat is based on a very real stray cat that lives near me. She likes to visit my yard and garden and soak up the sun and chase bugs#she even has the little white star on her forehead 😭 its too precious#Serena absolutely HATES the merlin trials#puzzles frustrate her#the only math she accepts is music math#i always thought it would be funny to have a MC who wasn't really interested in magic#serena really doesn't like that she has ancient magic powers. she wishes she could go back to a simpler time when all she did was practice#she usually gets along with everyone#but a certain Slytherin boy knows how to poke her buttons#hogwarts legacy fanart#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy mc#hogwarts legacy oc#my art#serena kosmos#hphl oc#hphl mc#hufflepuff#hufflepuff mc#hufflepuff oc
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
Truly from the depths of my struggling heart. Viva La Vida by Coldplay belongs to one Toshinori Yagi aka the one and only All Might.
Coldplay should just sign over the rights of the song at this point promptly too.
#the song just works on so many levels#cause yeah there’s the grander theme off glory days gone past#but there’s another layer of was; I really effective or good if the minute I left everything that I had built crumbled around me#because Toshinori was the symbol of peace but any peace that can’t survive without one man isn’t true peace at all#it’s a stalemate#hero society#should never have been so easy to collapse without all might#and honestly even though it was never really fully explored that was always a layer of the story I enjoyed#the ways in which a complete dominance in a field especially one as important as heroing can hurt just as much as it can help.#because if yagi had actually let people stand beside him if he hadn’t helped to create a space where other heroes could grow complacent#because all night was there. hero society would never have collapsed so easily without him.#it’s touched on but not a lot not dope if icalry about all nights dominance#it’s why I feel like if you watched the show and your geniune conclusion was that Deku should have become the new symbol of peace#then I just think we didn’t watch the same show#And don't get me wrong I'm not saying that yagi was wrong for saving people or using his powers to the max but it was touched on repeatedly#this kind of deep fear/belief that he had. That only he could save these people and if something happened to them it was on him.#Like every case could only be solved by him and it wasnt a pride thing if anything it was a trauma response same with Izuku#the tags for this got so long i swear i don't mean to do this😭#the symbolism#symbol of peace#all might#yagi toshinori#mha toshinori#mha#bnha#boku no hero acedamia#my hero acedamia#mha analysis#music#coldplay
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay but like Peter Parker reincarnated as dick grayson angst
#peter parker#dick grayson#nightwing#spiderman#Me in my little head listening to music and suddenly it auto fills a gap that wasn't even there and now I can't stop thinking about it#batman#story prompt#fic prompt#Fic idea#The angst would be juiciest if he didn't keep his powers#So like he's always pushing his body further to try and gain back just an inch more of what he had#Because even as spiderman he was too slow or weak to save everyone and he never realised just how dependent he was on his spider sense#At first he's living the dream with alive loving parents and acrobatics and travelling the world in peace#He's crushed when they die. In a way spiderman could have so easily prevented with his webs. He had to watch AGAIN. He's furious#With his experience from his previous life he latches onto batman and creates Robin from that. He balances school and hero life once more.#He becomes night wing when Gotham grows too dark and stifling. He needs out. To be a solo hero again. He hates that he has to leave batman#But at least he's alive to be mad.#When he gets siblings wow new experience!! Batman parenting normal kids is Such a bad idea but he'd die for them!#Then everything cascades and batman goes from iron man/daredevil to punisher/black widow and Jason doesn't want to listen#Even tho he died too and it hurt and b had a bio kid and he's batman until he isn't and he misses aunt may and still he loves being alive#Because spiderman was killed#And nightwing is older than he will ever be
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
hey hey another thing. Everyone noticed how subdued movie Elphaba is relative to book/musical Elphaba, right? Book Elphaba's whole thing is being loudly independent and making her own bold choices (then getting [metaphorically] pushed down 5 flights of stairs for having the gall to exist). Musical Elphaba is less of a reddit atheist than her book counterpart, but still plenty abrasive and, ultimately, forges her own path (with its own relatively less tragic consequences).
Movie Elphaba? She doesn't choose to go to Shiz. Her father's planning on keeping her tucked away in their family home until the day she dies, where she can't hurt anyone or further embarrass the Thropp name. Morrible's the one who gets her enrolled, fully aware that Elphaba has no choice if she doesn't want to spend the rest of her life stuck at home, only ever leaving to accompany Nessa. This Elphaba doesn't choose to go to school, she doesn't choose to go to the Emerald City, and, really, she doesn't even choose to defy gravity -- there is no alternative, she can't live if she stays with the Wizard, especially not after Morrible's preemptive announcement of her wickedness. Movie Elphaba's trapped by her destiny, walking the path laid out for her. With one crucial exception, of course: Glinda, baby, that's right, the only thing this Elphie's ever chosen for herself, the only thing she's been allowed to choose, is to have Glinda at her side!
This softer, more noticeably scared Elphaba creates the extremely juicy dynamic of visibly relying on Glinda for support. As soon as they become pals, Elphaba's latched onto her, the only person who isn't scared of her magic, the first person to care for Elphaba's well-being. She chooses to befriend Glinda, she chooses to bring Glinda to the Emerald City, she chooses to ask Glinda to defy gravity with her. This is what makes this version of Defying Gravity so delicious: Elphaba's never truly believed in herself! The only reason she ever started was because Glinda was there to encourage her, and now, at this crucial moment, this Elphaba, who has lived her life so terrified of the harm she could cause others, has the confidence to not only risk her own life with a spell she's never tried, but the life of her one and only friend!
And Glinda refuses! And it's totally understandable now! Of course this Glinda would say no -- she's not scared of what could happen to her, she's scared of what will happen to Elphie, and standing there, she gets it. She understands the role she's played in Elphaba's life. Glinda knows Elphaba wouldn't be there, ready to declare war on the Wizard, if Glinda hadn't been by her side the entire time, and she has to refuse. She has to. Elphaba's request isn't come with me, we're stronger together, it's I can't do this without you, I'm not strong enough, and Glinda KNOWS that's not true. The only way she can express this is by sending Elphie off on her own, to straighten her hat and wish her luck. It's the only way Elphie will take flight and finally realize that she's got the power to do anything she wants, if she just tries.
#wicked#gelphie#meant to include some aspect of this in the other post but I caught sleepy bitch disease#then got whammied by the OST on shuffle hitting me with no one mourns the wicked -> ozdust duet -> wizard and I -> defying gravity yesterda#it's so hard to drive when you're trying very hard not to cry#and even worse when you have this shit rotating in your mind like kebab
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
it feels like this season, doctor who is dealing with the fundamental rules changing. it was strictly sci-fi, you could always logic your way out of any problem with technobabble and a clever plan.
but it feels like so much of the plot is wrapped around poking at the medium of being a television show, of being a story. we have multiple characters looking at the viewers, we have the maestro playing the theme tune, we have such clear parallels to season 1 (2005) that it feels like a universal coincidence. like the whoniverse itself is recognizing its a medium and playing with its tropes.
the genre is changing too - we are leaning more and more into fantasy, rules like you would see in stories about fae, not sci-fi. musical numbers out of nowhere that no one seems to question, with rain inside and musical sidewalks. the vocabulary of rope and power in coincidences. hell, even the way that time travel works is changing! suddenly stepping on a butterfly (specifically a trope in scifi that has been mocked/debunked previously) has consequences. the doctor swiping away the translation circuit's effects with the wave of a hand and breathing life back into a creature without breaking a sweat.
not to mention the way that space babies foreshadows to a universe that creates a story with all the ingredients it knows are supposed to be there (re: bogeyman - there's supposed to be a villain so it made one)
something IS going on. there is a bigger player - bigger than tecteun, bigger than the toymaker. could it be rtd just having a grand ole time using canon as is playground? maybe. but i hope it's something cool.
#doctor who#doctor who spoilers#dw spoilers#fifteenth doctor#ruby sunday#space babies#the devil's chord#rtd
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
MAYA, I MANIFESTED MY DREAM LIFE!!!!
Okay, I don't know if you remember me, but I participated in a lot of your challenges and the Pink’s challenge, and I found some success! I shifted to my wr and manifested some things, but I could never do it consistently, and it was really fucking annoying.
So, I took three months off and worked hard, using subliminals every day and going on affirmation rampages. I was doing lucid dreaming methods, SATs, meditations, yoga nidra, reading spiritual books literally my whole summer was dedicated to shifting and the void state. I was eat sleeping and breathing it because I could not continue to live the way I was even I can even consider that living …
So What did I do
I just followed your challenge because college was starting, and I couldn't go back to school without my dream life for the fourth time, fearing I might actually harm myself. So played the fields with this rampage (together in two different tabs).
During the Day
https://youtu.be/aLsn6ZK4RZ8?si=Dt_j7ChLjNsQ6tpV
https://youtu.be/gBD4Owz1GC0?si=icOkN1DoFsqP-adT
During the day, I would live in the end. I created albums for my desired realities, re-read my scripts, revised my void list because I genuinely believed I was going to succeed, watched supercell shifting videos on YouTube, and stared at my vision board, realizing it was going to be my life the next day, and more!
Overnight
https://youtu.be/JwV297pP9aw?si=Sxx-xlhE_owInoxH
https://youtu.be/DKB5I9y8SEg?si=PI-UaNw2m_VUWYy1
What I Manifested
- Master shifting abilities
- Master void state abilities
- Having my WR to be a perfect heaven
- Making this current reality a dream: desired looks, desired body, never gaining weight, revised wealth and family, dream friend group, a social media following, being worshipped and respected, being so beautiful by my own standards, dream home (I have a mountain range that goes through my backyard and a farm on my land, it’s enormous), revised city, only attracting wealthy, tall, attractive men, pretty privilege, 145 IQ, going to an Ivy League, getting rid of my anxiety and depression, getting rid of my health issues, no toxic family, so much money, and revised my name to Bella because I love Bella Hadid (my old name was Audrey), and so much more.
I know it sounds nothing too crazy compared to other people who manifest powers and trillions of dollars, but I can shift anytime I want. I’m going to my singing desired reality and high school musical Dr soon and I am so excited I have hundreds of places to explore. My life here finally has stability, and I’m so happy. Not waking up with stress, nausea, and diarrhea is a blessing. My house is clean, my family members aren’t fighting and calling me names, my siblings and I are close. I audibly gasp anytime I see myself in the mirror. My phone is always blowing up with people asking me for plans when it used to be dry as hell, and people forgot I even existed. Everywhere I go, people tell me I should model, want to pay for what I’m buying, are so kind, open doors for me, want to help me for no reason, give me discounts, ask me on dates… I’m so happy and confused. I don’t know how to feel. I am genuinely so loved and respected, and on top of that, I get to explore the universe of my favorite shows and movies.
I’m so glad I never gave up, even though these three months were hard and my life had gotten worse, I am finally free, my hard work paid off, and I hope everyone else will do the same. We truly are God! I was afraid this community was some big joke and big bloggers were creative writers or just laughing at delusional people like me, but I can confirm it’s very, very real.
My love I am so proud of you ! And yes I vaguely remember you and your first shift you messaged me about :)!
I am happy your hard work paid off as well. I remember when everything seemed so meaningless and delusional as well and I also thought shifting was some big joke to target mentally ill teens, but the reality is we truly are all god and no amount of doubt and struggle will ever change that truth. I hope you enjoy your dream life, and I am happy I could help 💖
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Green Arrow had a new child scientist villain. Who needs glasses?
Danny was already with the many Blob Ghosts working for him (think of them as Minions of Despicable Me). This new place is a super funny vacation place! He should think ghostwriter about it. True, his eyes were hurt by the portal, but that would be gone in a few years. But who cares about it? With just his genius and no powers as a human, he can show he is a genius! That was how Danny, without knowing it, became a wonderful child who was just having chaotic fun in the new world. It's like a game for him; it's not like he would have problems.
Batman has the Joker.
Superman has Lex Luthor.
Wonder Woman has the cheetah.
But Green Arrow! Green Arrow has a child scientist! with a tragic childhood who does musicals to explain his evil plans.
Just for the poor comedy and Oliver trying to hide it from the other heroes out of embarrassment. Of being defeated by a child and not being able to capture him. ++ Danny looked at Oliver Queen without his green Arrow mask. "An ordinary civilian with a goat?" Oliver saw as he put on his hood. Danny:"An ordinary civilian dressed up as a Green Arrow?" Oliver puts on the mask. Danny: "Ah! Green ARROW! " Green Arrow gave a tired sigh. Black Canary:" When we finally are able to capture him, The first thing we will do is send him to an ophthalmologist." Danny:" Since you are here, I wil tell you about my trash-inator!" Oliver:" So It creates trash." Danny:" NO! Man, are you evil? It collects all the trash in the whole city and teleports it away." Black Canary:" That is a pretty good indicator. You could do much goo..." Danny:" Yes, then into the Bat Cave all the trash of the Star city will go. I was paid by Red Hood to do that." Oliver:" NOO!!"
++ So because Oliver covered it up until now, Danny has now become a world-wide problem. Oliver really didn't want to say he lost a child or explain it. Danny with his Shrink Ray:" Tonight we steal the Legion of Doom HQ/The Hall of Justice!" All the Blob Ghost:" YAYY!"
And yes, Danny stole the Legion of Doom HQ/The Hall of Justice as both Heroes and Villian fought each other in a great battle.
That was the moment Oliver had to explain the problem that he had covered up.
#danny phantom#danny fenton#dc#dc comics#dp x dc#dp + dc#dc x dp#dcau#dp#batman#Green Arrow#Hall of Justice#Legion of Doom HQ#Scientist Danny#dr doofenshmirtz like Danny#AH! GREEN ARROW!!#Black Canary#Ghost Writer#Blob Ghost#Shrink Ray#Poor Green Arrow#Minions of Despicable Me#Tonight we steal the Legion of Doom HQ/The Hall of Justice#Minion like Blob Ghost
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
How to Train your Demon
Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader
Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.
Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....
Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA
Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)
Rule no. 1: Don't show fear
It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner.
Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception.
Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself.
Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.
You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words.
You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.
Until it wasn’t.
You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way.
You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you.
“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left.
“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.”
The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.
“What is that?”
The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell.
“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room.
“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”
The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”
You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?”
“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes.
“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.”
“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers.
He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you.
“Rise.”
You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.
“Why do you weep?”
“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.
“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.”
He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind.
“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.
“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head.
He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker.
“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.”
“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”
“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”
This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.
“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”
Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”
“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”
“I’m not interested in little girls.”
“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”
“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought.
Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking.
You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?”
“Resting with you.”
“Get out of my bed!”
“Are you no longer tired?”
“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”
Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest.
“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”
“Stop acting like you know me!”
Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done.
“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled.
His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair.
Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first.
“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”
“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”
You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast.
Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx
Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.
M.list || Twitter || Ao3
#minimoe#minimomoe#jjk#jjk fanfic#sukuna ryomen#ryoumen sukuna#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x reader#x black reader#black fem reader#soulmates#true form sukuna#sukuna fluff#this is v silly#and tropey#tummy mouth may be sentient#red string of fate
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Tahraim is my fav absolutely adore him! I love that you’ve made the smith deal in introspection and cryptic bs, a lot of times smiths are very straightforward characters in stories. What made you decide to shake it up?
Can gods be tied to concepts as well as cities? As Tahraim seems to be a god of blacksmithing (or at least has some serious motifs) does he have a city thats just forges?
He also seems a lot more mobile than the other gods, or is he just “tied” to Danix?
Tahraim is a conceptual god, a class of deity considered grander and more untethered than city or nature gods. Also in his weight class are Emnis and Erebas (dreams and nightmares), Shanyasi (music), Sennaia (knowledge), Jiya (war), and a whole bunch of others. They're gods of ideas, and their domains are in the collective consciousness of mortals. They can manifest anywhere they hold sway, and several of them have constructed domains of their own in pocket dimensions; Sennaia has a transfinite library hidden away somewhere, and Tahraim has a forge.
Tahraim's personality comes from my own experience with artists and craftspeople. Many artists are acutely aware that in order for their work to be better, they need to be better. The process of creation and introspection becomes inextricably linked. Forging a tool changes the forger, little by little.
There's also an element I've observed from teachers. I was always a firm proponent of "don't be cryptic or cute, just tell me the thing and I'll get it," and while that's true a lot of the time, there are concepts that cannot be Just Told in any meaningful way. They don't hit or stick if the person doesn't put them together themselves and construct a way that works for them. Teaching isn't always the impartation of information; a lot of the time it's guidance so the student crafts the tools that work for them. Even if the teacher can perfectly communicate what method works for them, everyone is different, and a student that does the exact same thing exactly right might gain no benefits or be actively harmed by the process. Instead, the student has to parse the lesson and create their own tools to execute the same goal.
Personal example under a readmore because it got a little long:
I've sporadically dealt with intrusive thoughts my whole life, though I didn't understand what they were at the time and they've mostly gone away on their own. When I was little, upsetting thoughts would get stuck in my head and stay there; things would give me nightmares that lasted for weeks, or I'd be stuck awake in the wee hours ruminating on every time in my life I'd done something shameful or harmful or wrong. My dad recognized I was upset, and tried to teach me a method of "counting thoughts" that worked for him, where I could sit for a few minutes and just passively observe the thoughts floating by, counting them and observing them and thus becoming aware that they were small, fleeting things with no power on their own. The problem is, this method didn't work for me at all, because "count the thought" didn't communicate to me "and that makes the thought not a problem anymore." The thought still hurt just as bad, all I was doing was reminding myself how many bad thoughts were happening. I would get overwhelmed and end up more distressed, and the fact that this thing that should have worked didn't work just convinced me that I was trapped and nobody could ever help me.
It took actual years before I found a method that clicked in my brain, and it was just one step further down the path of counting thoughts:
"Having that thought is harmless."
Every thought that got stuck in my head was about times or ways I might've harmed people. The things that distressed me most were things I'd done wrong that I had zero power to change, so the wrongness would just haunt me forever, making me miserable forever. But the root of the distress was that I had messed up and hurt people.
The thing that clicked was that having the thought does nothing to anyone but me. The thought is harmless, even if the event the thought is about wasn't or wouldn't be. Having the thought hurts no-one else. And since 90% of my distress was distress at the thought of hurting other people, it hit me that in reality, even in the depths of my angst, I was just sitting there, hurting no-one.
And suddenly I found that the last few intrusive thoughts rattling around in my brain withering, because the last thing that had been feeding them was gone. I was given the technique for Counting Thoughts, but it wasn't made for my hands. I had to make my own version out of it. And just because it worked for me and my own personal brain doesn't mean this method would work for someone else, just the same way the method that worked for my dad didn't click for me. If I wanted to teach someone a way to bypass intrusive thoughts, all I would have to work on would be what worked for me, but I could try to guide them through a path similar to the one I followed to find my method so they could maybe find their specific hangups and what specifically would work for them. Every mind is different.
This is also why it's so frustrating to hear someone say stuff like "Oh I used to worry about that too, but it's actually fine, you can just stop worrying about it!" And it's like, "oh, fuckin brilliant, just stop worrying about it? Absolute genius, I just hadn't thought of that-" like yea it sounds flippant and yea it's not helpful, but they are using the only frame of reference they have and describing what they did. They stressed about something, realized it was not actually a problem, and knowing that was enough to make it leave their mind alone. But saying that they "just stopped worrying" doesn't make you understand or internalize how they did it. And because they can't seem to help you, it makes you mad. But then sometimes, with time and perspective, you look back and think "wow, yea, at some point I really did just stop worrying about that." It doesn't mean their advice worked, it just means somewhere along the line something clicked in your mind and started working.
Tahraim is a smith who sees no difference between shaping a tool and shaping a person, but there are some ways that people can't be shaped from the outside, and instead have to shape themselves. He likes to be subtle and cryptic, but he also has good reason to be. The only way to make something click in someone's head is to guide them towards it and nudge them when necessary. It's not all hitting stuff with hammers.
492 notes
·
View notes
Text
atonement
masterlist
camp counselor!wanda x reader
word count: 6k
warnings: homophobia and homophobic slurs, conversion therapy, manipulation, gaslighting, references to drug use, unhealthy power dynamics (so rape), noncon to dubcon, cunnilingus, degrading, fingering, nipple play, size kink, general mean Wanda
a/n: me? posting blasphemous content on Easter Sunday? I would never
It looked harmless enough. You weren’t sure what you had been anticipating, mostly because you had been trying to keep your mind off of the unavoidable destination, but it certainly wasn’t the depressing place you had expected. No, they were smart enough to keep that reality away from the parents that dropped their ‘troubled’ children off. If anything, it looked like the kind of summer camp that a lot of your friends would be enjoying about that time.
There wasn’t a church for one thing. In its place was what appeared to be a ranch style house that had kept its traditional family features such as the pair of rocking chairs on the porch and the maintained flowerbed around the borders. On either side of the building, closing in the driveway, were several other intimate buildings that created the impression of a community style living. They were all decorated with various posters about god’s love and acceptance that you guessed you were going to be hearing a lot about during your stay.
Your mother got out of the car first as a man who looked like he was still being dressed by his own mum jogged over from the main house to greet you both. You clenched your grip on your bag strap before deciding to face the music and follow her lead, still examining the area sceptically as your mother and the man introduced themselves. Your mother failed to deliver the same excitement the blonde did, but she attempted to force it nonetheless while your hosts laughed easily at something she had said.
You weren’t listening to either of them as you retrieved your other bag from the boot of the car, not expecting the man to walk around the other side to greet you. “Y/n!” He said like you were an old friend. “I’m Reverend Vision but you can call me Rev Vis.” You most certainly weren’t going to be doing that. “We’re so happy to have you here, let me give you the grand tour of our home,” he beckoned. You trailed behind them.
“Do you live on site?” Your mother asked.
“Oh yes, me and the Mrs. We love our work,” he drowned on and began guiding you through the various rooms of the two buildings either side of his house. The more you learnt about the place, the more you began to dread your stay. There were ‘entertainment’ rooms that were filled with musical instruments and religious books and music. A canteen area fueled by the kitchen in which all of the students were to prepare every meal. A prayer room that was deserted at that time. Finally, the dorms.
Vision wasted no time in searching through your bags for anything that could “interfere with your journey” and came up empty handed, much to his well hidden disappointment. Your mother didn’t seem to notice it, too focused on the contents that came out of your bag, but you saw the flicker of his brow when he declared you were all good and began explaining the long lists of rules that you had no intention of memorising.
“And we do not allow any kind of sexual acts, with yourself or others,” he said lightly. Your mother shifted uncomfortably and you nodded. You had no intention of being caught by him with your hands down your pants when he did his checks during the night. You didn’t anticipate being there long because you were fully prepared to fake your conversion to heterosexuality. How hard could it be? Besides, you dreaded to think how much your parents were paying the capm under the illusion that they could somehow change you. You had to find it humorous, otherwise it would really fucking hurt.
It still did when you watched your family car disappear past the camp gates and into the dense tree line. You sighed, resting your head gently against the cool glass of your window and took in the camp in its entirety. It was a waste of beautiful land, you concluded as you examined where the large field met the changing trees. There were a couple guys in the camp uniform playing football on the grass while a cluster of girls sat to the side cheering them on. Apparently you had caught the end of the game, because Vision appeared on the edge of the grass and called them back inside, most likely to prepare for dinner.
“Y/n,” a voice behind you called. You spun around at the unexpected caller just as she opened her arms and enveloped you in a tight hug that took you wholly by surprise.
“Hi?” You greeted as a question, making the older woman chuckle as she held you before pulling away and keeping her soft hands on your arms as she took you in and allowed you to do the same. Holy fuck she was beautiful. Her striking emerald eyes bore straight through your own and somehow had the ability to make you feel entirely exposed, as though it would be futile to ever conceal anything from her, including your undeniable attraction to her. In contrast, her smile was soft and polite as she gazed at you in a friendly fondness you would with someone you haven't seen in a long time. There was something noticeably comforting in it and the way she carried an entirely put together personar that you wanted a peek beneath. Metaphorically of course… but also literally.
“I’m Wanda, Vision’s wife.” Rev Vis was punching way above his weight. This woman’s voice was even hot. Maybe pretending to be straight would be harder than you thought.
“Nice to meet you,” you smiled and glanced away awkwardly, finding her impossible to maintain eye contact with. She didn’t seem to care as she hooked her finger under your chin and turned your head to keep your attention on her.
“I have every faith you’re going to do so well here, sweetheart,” she told you fondly then dropped her hand and took a respectful step back. Right, gotta leave room for jesus. “Your roommate will be back soon then you too should head down for supper,” she instructed as she headed for the door.
“Okay,” you nodded and pretended to unpack your bags.
“See you later, honey,” she said before disappearing. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and collapsed onto your bed.
*
Your first day dragged by painstakingly slowly. Between meals, you attended bible study taught by Vision who gave you his extra attention as it was your first time there. He asked you to compare your own relationship with god to that which he was teaching, expecting an answer in front of all the other students who had been through the same ordeal and spotted your lies as well as Vision did. Apparently everyone did the same when they started at the camp.
You had kitchen duty in the morning and garden duty in the afternoon (which was probably the least crap one) before you had to sit down for what felt like hours to listen to Vision sing about god on a guitar he didn’t know how to tune properly. During every interaction you had with him, all you could think about was how he had ended up with a woman like Wanda. Had they been high school sweethearts? Had their parents pushed them together? Did he have some kind of twisted blackmail over her? They were the only three explanations that made any sense to you but you weren’t about to ask any of the other students for their input.
As it turned out, your daily routine was also going to include a one on one session with the older woman which should have been something to act as a silver lining in your stay, but it was the most challenging aspect of all.
“When did your desire for women begin?” She asked after some small talk.
“I’m not sure,” you lied in an effort to buy yourself some time to think of a good response. She smiled at you softly.
“You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to god,” she informed lightly.
“A couple years ago,” you replied honestly. This seemed to please her.
“And how did it manifest?” She sounded genuinely curious to know, lulling you into being unexpectedly open with her. It wasn’t as though you had anyone else to talk about that stuff with.
“There was a girl in my class that I thought was pretty,” you told her as you recalled your first real crush. “I felt more when she smiled at me than I did when I kissed a boy.” Wanda smiled as though she could see the purity of your memory as well as you could. Except to her, it wasn’t so innocent.
“The devil likes to work his way into places we could never expect,” she told you and your smile dropped. “Especially when we’re naive,” she added. It sounded as though she didn’t hold anything against you and she wholly believed you had been seduced by the devil himself and that it was impossible for there to be any other explanation.
“I was seventeen,” you reasoned. “I wasn’t naive.” Wanda liked the challenge you gave her. That whisper of a promised defiance gave her a thrill she knew to keep a cap unless she was required to use it. She would do anything for her beloved students to guide them back on the right path, especially one that wore the face of morality so well.
“And what do you mean by that?” Wanda enquired.
“I knew- I know what desire and attraction feel like,” you told her without looking her in those expectant eyes that unknowingly glimmered at your revelation.
“Lust,” Wanda said simply. “One of the hardest sins to resist when it affects one so physically.”
“Surely it can’t be bad if it’s natural,” you pointed out. That was not the response the brunette wanted to hear.
“It is not natural,” Wanda said so quickly that she had to take a moment to recollect herself as you looked at her with shock as you took in that momentary crack in her exterior. It was interesting to watch and you wondered why it had hit a nerve. Surely you weren’t the only one to come into her office and state the fact.
“Y/n,” she called slowly. “If lust comes to you while you are here, you must come and tell me,” she told you seriously. Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t be doing that. You agreed obediently anyway.
“Good,” she smiled again. “Now, is there anyone you currently feel ungodly towards?”
“The same girl,” you admitted sheepishly. Yes, you had had a variety of other minor crushes in the past couple years, but she always managed to fill you with that teasing anxiety that never fully manifested when she said hi to you.
Wanda raised her brows indiscreetly. “I hope you will soon be able to give that same loyalty to god,” she said. You didn’t give her a response, unsure of what to say when you had no intention of doing such a thing. “In time,” she added when she saw your hesitation.
“Maybe,” you muttered, meeting her half way. “Won’t he love me regardless?” You painted the question with an air of innocence that anyone else would have fallen for. But Wanda saw beyond that and knew you used the faux front purely to challenge her again. She was impressed.
“Of course,” she told you gently. “Always.”
*
You thought you were being subtle with the way you kept glancing over at the couple. It was breakfast time so there was a general murmur of conversation that you didn’t feel particularly pressed to join in with. All it did was teach you to avoid sitting with the group you had found yourself with again because they seemed to be the only students there who were actively participating in the conversion with the belief it would ‘fix them’. You pitied them in a way, but not enough to interfere with their ramblings about their opposite sex celebrity crushes.
Wanda caught your eye on one of the many times you had peered over. Vision was talking to her but apparently she was as distracted from her company as you were, more fixed on returning your gaze. The corner of her lip twitched when you realised you’d been caught and you swiftly looked away to stare down at your cereal, actively keeping your wandering gaze on the other side of the room for the rest of the meal.
*
“So what did you do to end up here?” A curly haired boy asked as he strolled into the kitchen you occupied alone. He was swinging a tea towel in his hands as he joined you and started on drying the washing up you had started.
“Got caught making out with the pastor’s daughter,” you said stoically.
“You’re fucking with me,” he grinned and your composure cracked.
“Yeah, but it’s much cooler than the truth,” you told him honestly as he jumped up onto the counter.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad. My grandma walked in on me with my dick down my best friend’s ass,” he told you and you couldn’t stop the laugh that rose promptly. You grinned at the boy next to you in disbelief, thankful that your own luck wasn’t that bad. “Your turn,” he prompted.
“I told my best friend that I like girls. She told my parents,” you said humorously, as though it didn’t hurt like a bitch just to remember.
“I think I have better mates than you,” he concluded. You didn’t argue with that. “I’m James.”
“Y/n,” you replied. “How long have you been here?”
“Four months.”
“What?” You splashed some water over the floor when your hand slipped in shock and James yelped when some drops hit him then started chuckling at the look you were giving him.
“What? Did you think it was only going to last a couple weeks?”
“Kinda, yeah,” you muttered as you returned your attention to your chore. “Do you think you’ll be out soon?”
“Nah, they know I’m bullshitting them. We all are, of course, but some of them can trick themselves into believing it, which is good enough for Vision.”
“Yeah, I know Wanda sees right through me,” you told him. “Which by the way, that makes no sense right?”
“I reckon he’s holding her family captive,” James stated simply. You laughed with him easily, glad you had found someone like minded to you. “Hey, do you wanna get high?”
*
The nimble threads at the bottom of your uniformed cardigan were multiplying as your stay at the camp went by. Your fingers frequently found their way to them when you were uncomfortable, which was more often than not, and pulled at the finer threads until you unintentionally collected a small bundle in the palm of your hands that you had to hide. Vision never commented on it, but Wanda did, telling you that it represented your impulse to repress your femininity or some bullshit like that.
You left the threads alone and laced your hands together in your lap when she gave you a pointed look from her office chair and you muttered an apology.
“I’ve noticed you and James have become quite close,” she commented. “I must admit I was hoping you would find better company in some of the other students here. James doesn’t provide the best example to follow,” she told you.
“We’re just friends,” you shrugged, slightly irked that the older woman had a problem with the one refuge you had been able to find in the camp.
“Are you friends with anyone else here?” She questioned, not yet providing you the warm smile she offered every time you stepped into her office or saw her in general. She didn’t look happy that day. She looked troubled but you didn’t believe that was solely down to your decision to spend time with James.
“Not yet,” you told her even though you weren’t planning on expanding your social circle. Though if it was only two people it must be more of a line. Still, adding that unfulfilled optimism was meant to appease Wanda. You should have expected her to see it for what it really was.
“What do you and James talk about?” She wasn’t going to let it go.
“Our lives, I guess,” you shrugged.
“Your experiences,” Wanda said for you. You knew there was no point in denying that when your glance towards her told her all she needed to know.
“Sometimes.”
“You should only discuss those topics with myself or Vision, otherwise you may end up having those experiences affirmed and encouraged,” she explained pointedly. You nodded uncomfortably as your fingers found their ways to your threads again only to snap back in place when you felt Wanda’s eyes momentarily burn into you. Something was very different with her. “So tell me what you discussed,” she pushed.
“I told him how much I dislike kissing boys,” you told her matter of factly as you tried to suppress your rising irritation. Maybe it was her job, but you hated her need to know everything you and James did.
“And you want to kiss girls instead?”
“I want to do a lot of things with them,” you laid on the innocence thick, playing your role as the good christian who was simply admitting to how she had been led astray and just wanted to atone for her sins. As always, Wanda saw through your facade though that time it made her tick. You knew exactly what you were doing, you just had no idea the effect it was having on the older woman. You had no idea that your insistence on pretending to be good while knowing you were bad stirred something in her that she wasn’t supposed to feel. You were pushing those sinful desires that had infiltrated your mind right into her own and she wouldn’t allow it.
“That’s all for today,” she declared without giving a response to your statement. It hadn’t even been your full session time, maybe more like half of it.
“Okay,” you said slowly as you stood up.
“I suggest you spend the rest of your evening with your roommate today,” she told you as you lingered in the doorway.
“Right, bye,” you bid awkwardly, frowning to yourself as you walked away.
The moment the door closed Wanda sighed heavily and leant back in her chair, catching sight of the framed photo of herself and Vision when they went on a hiking holiday in Colorado. The both beamed at the camera as they held each other close, though Wanda’s love for her husband had been as dim as it was in the present. But it was what god wanted. What god certainly didn’t want was for Wanda to allow her mind to wander to you in the way it had during that session when you had been taunting her with that faux naivety that everyone else seemed to fall for.
She had such hope for you when she first met you. But the images you had put in her head of her hand disappearing beneath your skirt as her lips clashed with yours, pinning you down to that very couch you perched on, that was something that could not be allowed to flourish, no matter how it made her throb between her legs. Wanda forced herself to stare at her husband’s image and remember when he used to make her feel that way, but those memories of his breathless features beneath her were replaced with your own and suddenly she couldn’t help but ponder what your sweet moans would sound like next to her ear as her fingers dipped inside-
“Lord help me,” Wanda called, but he never came.
*
You and Wanda both faced your own new challenges as the weeks went by. For you, your only refuge was gone. James had been sent back home randomly one night after an incident that no one would discuss with you. You had written your numbers on pieces of paper before that night, but it had disappeared as mysteriously as James had and gave you an equally chilling feeling. You had no idea what was going to happen to him when he arrived home without the results he had been sent away to achieve. Would they send him somewhere else? Somewhere worse? The only thing you could do was try not to end up like him.
Unfortunately, Wanda knew that nothing had changed within you. You continued to try and fool her with your illusion of innocence, reciting what Vision had taught you, socialising with the committed students and answering her questions in the way she wanted to hear rather than the truth. Little did you know that your efforts to quicken your release from the camp were futile, because Wanda simply didn’t want you gone yet. You were fighting a losing battle, just as she was.
As much as she despised to acknowledge it, the brunette fought her own desires as much as you did. It made her hate how much she was drawn to you. It made her ashamed of the acts she envisaged herself performing with you and how she just knew in her heart that you would so willingly part your legs for her. She wasn’t blind to your attraction to her, she had encountered it enough in her career to see it a mile away, no matter how discreet you thought you were being.
“I think I’m getting better,” you lied as you peered at Wanda cautiously.
“And what makes you say that?” The older woman inquired, humouring your plain fib.
“I don’t think about girls,” you said as you willed yourself not to look at Wanda’s long legs that were crossed eloquently.
“What do you think about?” You hadn’t been prepared for that.
“God?” Wrong. Obviously wrong. Wanda hummed and you knew that meant she didn’t buy it.
“Y/n, I want you to start being more honest with me.” You froze and didn’t dare look her in the eye. “I’m aware that you’re not progressing, so I think we should try something new. Just you and me.” You frowned and risked looking up to the confident woman, not having a clue of the excitement that manifested so secretly. “Are you familiar with penance?” You were, yet you had no idea where Wanda was going with it.
“There are many different forms. Some fast, some pray, some confess, but as we practise most of that here anyway, I want to try something else,” Wanda explained as she stood up from her chair and sauntered over to the desk in the corner of her office. You heard her rummaging around in the draws as a feeling of unease began to emerge in your chest. Rightfully so, because when Wanda turned back around, she held a riding crop firmly in her grasp.
“Stand up,” she instructed and you quickly did so as you eyed the tool in her hands. “Usually you would do this yourself, but I don’t believe you’re capable,” she explained lightly. “Hold out your hand.”
“Wanda,” you said as you kept your hand glued to your side. “I don’t want to.” Her features were deceivingly gentle as she listened to you.
“I don’t want to do this to you either, sweetheart. It’s just the only solution. So hold out your hand,” she repeated, gripping the crop so tight you could hear the leather stretch in her grasp. It unsettled you greatly.
“But it will hurt,” you objected, eyes wide. Wanda could have laughed at how oblivious you were to her intentions.
“It’s meant to,” she said simply and grabbed your wrist with a force that completely paralleled the softness of her tone.
“Wanda-” you tried to yank your hand back but you weren’t as strong as the brunette who only had to hold you with one hand while the other brought the crop down hard.
You cried out but Wanda used her grip on you to pull you flush against her chest, her features having turned ice cold. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced through your own with a sharpness that was usually dulled. The next words she uttered were void of that nurturing faith she used with everyone else and were replaced with something much darker. “If you keep struggling I’ll bend you over that desk and whip your ass instead.” You trembled against her, trying to decipher what your best bet was. When you took too long to decide, Wanda reached around and groped your ass, digging the crop in as she did so as though to make sure you knew she was serious. Your breath hitched as you found yourself completely trapped against the woman that squeezed you through your skirt. You whimpered, riling her up more until you nodded.
“Good,” Wanda exhaled, calming the heat she was struck with at the sight of your fearful eyes. “With every strike, you’re going to confess something you’ve lied about to me.” There were so many lies to choose from that when the first strike came, you struggled to pick one out. “Confess,” Wanda demanded, all of her patience suddenly absent.
“I don’t like boys, I like girls,” you admitted in a rush, refusing to look at Wanda or your burning hand that she struck again. “I’m not doing the work,” you continued. Wanda remained dissatisfied, striking your raw palm again and again as you admitted to your lies, none of which being what Wanda wanted to hear.
“I touch myself!” That was what she was looking for.
“Look at me,” Wanda instructed, examining the tear streaks down your cheeks as you whimpered. It was clear you were trying to appear strong and indifferent, but it was quickly becoming too much. The older woman cooed at you as dropped the crop to the couch behind you and took a hold of your inflamed hand, rubbing the abused hand with a tenderness that only made it burn more.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Her smile had grown sinister and you realised you were nowhere near done. “What thoughts do you touch yourself to?” Wanda questioned further, rubbing the most tender areas of your palm.
“Lying with a woman,” you hiccuped, hoping the harmless phrasing could somehow ease your next punishment.
“Who?” She pushed, gripping your chin roughly and forcing you to look straight ahead at her as you confessed what she already knew.
“You,” you whispered. Arousal rushed to the forefront of Wanda’s mind, and with it came anger. You weren't allowed to make her feel the way you did. She had a husband and she was a faithful Christian wife until you showed up and infected her mind with your own illness. You had to be put in your place.
In a blur, you were laying flat on the sofa you had lied continuously to Wanda on. You were barely given the chance to react before Wanda hiked her leg over your chest and straddled you with a purely feral look upon her face. You felt a strike of fear hit you, however you also weren’t blind to how attractive Wanda looked in her state of desperation. It may have been a desperation to reclaim control and to punish you for her own feelings, but it was hot nonetheless.
“You’ve been tempting me ever since you got here,” she hissed, feeling under her conservative skirt for a moment before she lifted it up around her waist. “This is your fault,” Wanda told you as you soaked in the view of her exposed pussy just inches from your face. You could smell her arousal and when she moved to lower herself onto your awaiting mouth, you eagerly grabbed at the back of her thighs until she slapped you away. “You don’t get to touch me with those filthy fingers, just let me use you.” Although you knew it was terribly wrong, you felt your own cunt heat up at her instructions. You knew that it was fucked up that the married woman wanted to get off on riding your mouth, but you wanted it so bad.
“Just like that,” Wanda sighed as you ran your tongue through her wet folds and sucked on them lightly, aiming to savour every drop and inch of her. “Put your tongue out,” she continued to demand. As soon as you did, Wanda began to vigorously grind her clit against your muscle, allowing your tastebuds to become ablaze with her as she cursed above you. You had never heard her swear before and knew she would scold anyone who muttered anything close, so knowing you could elicit such a reaction from her made your insides twist with pride.
She didn’t argue when you switched to sucking on her pulsing clit and felt it throb in your mouth. You moaned against her as her movements continued and her thighs locked around her head. It felt as though she really was using you for her own pleasure, not caring about your own or any comfort. You were the shameful bliss she was forbidden to engage with, but it felt incredible to ignore her god and use you as she wished. But she was really disobeying him, she was just teaching you a lesson. It wasn’t really sinning.
“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, you slut!” Wanda cried out as she became engulfed with the sensations you gave her. You had no intention of stopping as you shifted to pushing your tongue inside her. You were met by the tight squeeze of her walls and felt your own clench at the discovery she hadn’t had sex in a while. That explained why she was so sensitive too. Besides yourself, you smirked into the older woman and doubled your efforts.
It didn’t take long for Wanda to get close to the bliss she had become stranger to and you weren’t about to let her lose that. She knew her body, even after some time of depriving herself, and told you exactly what to do to get her there. “That’s it, that’s it,” she panted, head swimming as she erratically thrust herself onto her mouth and came with a sharp cry. You moaned against her, adamant on tasting your reward as Wanda trembled on top of you and eventually forced herself off when you didn’t stop. She wasn’t about to let greed overcome her.
You looked up at her with a hesitant smile that was apparently the last thing Wanda wanted to see. She glared at you and immediately lifted you up and spun you around so that you were leaning over the armrest on the sofa, not allowing you a second to object. “What-” you tried but she didn’t want to hear it.
“We’re not done,” she said without care as she lifted your own skirt over your back and yanked down your soaked underwear. She bit her lip at the sight of the wetness that stained them and threw them over to her desk for safe keeping, definitely not to sniff and use to get off later.
“Desperate whore,” she muttered to herself as she ran two fingers through your drenched lips. “You want to get fucked so bad? I’ll show you what it’s like to get fucked.” She let the threat loom over you as dipped her digits into you lightly, barely enough to stimulate you but enough for her to decipher how tight you were. Wanda groaned when she felt you clench in anticipation, desperate for any touch you would give her. At that, she let the remains of her self control slip away and thrust her fingers in at once. “So tight,” she commented as you clung onto the sofa, moaning at the feeling of her filling you up in the way you had dreamed ever since you first met the older woman.
“Wanda,” you whined when she spread her fingers out within you to push your walls.
“Shut up,” she hissed, refusing to listen to your pathetic pleas on the tip of your tongue. “Take it.” And you did. You bit into the couch to mute yourself as Wanda curled and thrust her fingers inside your wet cunt, mapping out every inch of you and pushing your body’s limits. She added a third finger without any consideration to your stifled whines.
Wanda, as she told herself, was only doing it to hurt you and punish you. You deserved it for sinning so openly in her home and for attempting to corrupt her. It wouldn’t work, she convinced herself, she wouldn’t succumb to your lust but she had to show you the right path. She had to make you ache. With that in mind, she added a fourth finger and pumped her fingers in wildly.
You cried out into the material you sunk your teeth into, feeling your pussy sting at the stretch Wanda was causing. Still, you continued to soak down to her palm. It just hurt so good. Too good for Wanda to allow, so she snuck her hand under your shirt and bra to take your nipples between her fingers and twist them cruelly. You whimpered at the unnecessary act, making Wanda grin triumphantly.
Despite the pain, it did little to distract you from the heat between your legs that was quickly growing out of control. Having stretched you out as much as she pleased, Wanda was able to thrust her fingers inside you without mercy, attacking every sensitive nerve until you became a mess on the sofa she was meant to therapise you on. “You going to cum for me, whore?” Wanda asked when she felt you twitch around her. You mumbled a yes you were lucky she heard. “You’re so pathetic like this, so weak to temptation,” she scolded you with a wicked smile you couldn’t see. “Cum for me.” That was all it took for your muscles to clench tightly around her and let go. You moaned like the whore she saw you as as you came, gripping onto the sofa for dear life as Wanda continued to ruthlessly pump her digits into your cunt.
“Too much,” you whined when she failed to stop. She didn’t listen. You came down from one orgasm and soon went tumbling into another when Wadna kept up her actions, making sure to drive her point home. You squirmed under her as your body became overstimulated but there was no room or strength for you to move away. “Please!” You begged as you bucked into her palm, unable to stop the contradicting action that served to amuse Wanda.
“So sensitive,” Wanda mused, coaxing you through another orgasm until she deemed that the message had gone through enough. You collapsed in a defeated heap as she stood up from the sofa and corrected her uniform as though you weren’t even there. You missed her taking her tainted digits into her mouth to appease her curiosity. Lord, she thought as she tasted your sweetness. She swiftly pushed away the impulse to keep you down and taste your sweetness directly from the source. She had to keep things professional after all.
“See me first thing in the morning,” she instructed, features still flushed with lingering lust. She had given into temptation and whether she liked it or not, she would indulge in you again. You weren’t going home anytime soon.
#marvel#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#dark!wanda maximoff#dark!marvel#scarlet witch
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
With the gentle caress of Neptune's blissful hand, a dreamy aura evolves. In the dawn's soft embrace, and twilight's whisper, pisces paints the sky with a suspire.
Pisces Rising: Divine Charm
They look mysterious and distant but their gaze, like the ocean, deep and profound, reflecting the emotions untold. A wise mind and soul, with a gentle and caring heart, remains protected from the dangers from outside. Many of them tended to isolate themselves, as the tensions of their early environment could be difficult to deal with. They seek calm, and would love to live in a world where they felt at peace and free to be who they truly are. They have the ability to adapt to their environments and the people they meet, making the number of people with whom they truly feel like themselves very small. Their beauty lies more in delicacy, like angels fallen to heaven, their skin is soft, their gaze slightly sleepy and many of them give an unapproachable vibe.
From a young age they learn to achieve things on their own and we can attribute that to Aries in the 2nd house. They greatly value their independence, being able to do things their own way, because these natives highly value their independence and that clearly includes financial independence, which is why they like to make their decisions for themselves when it comes to money. Some of them may have a tendency to be somewhat impulsive with their spending, especially if Mars is making tense aspects to Jupiter or Neptune. Ambition to find stability in their lives, they fervently desire to feel powerful and not with respect to others, but with themselves and the management of their lives. They are people who have that entrepreneurial spirit, since they were young, they may have defined what they want to achieve, be it a certain status, economic position, or simply a set of things to have in the future. Some of these natives are prone to becoming demotivated quickly if they do not perceive or have tangible results, so it is necessary for them to find a way to motivate themselves. It is a kind of challenge to be more constant and persistent in your productive projects. They may possess a certain level of competitiveness and winning and/or achieving things can increase their self-esteem, especially if Mars makes tense aspects to Sun or Jupiter. It is possible that at some point in their lives they feel that to be valuable they have to achieve or have things, they may equate success with the idea of "I have to create or do something.”
Talking to them is one of the most comfortable things in the world, they are responsible for not only talking to you and giving you their point of view, but also listening to you carefully, and we can see that with Taurus in the 3rd house. These natives take their time to process what is happening around them, they do not jump to conclusions, they are observant, capable of sensing when things are not as before, when there are changes around them, nothing goes unnoticed, no matter how minimal the change may be. They like clarity, that people speak with bluntness, that is, without losing tact if the situation requires it. They have a very attractive and soothing voice, and their way of speaking, the words that come out of their mouths can be a caress to the soul. They are sensible, rational and patient. They calm others with ease with their words and voice, there is something simply magnetic about them. Talent for singing and taste or interest in music. They have a great facility for creating and generating ideas, and not only that, but they also materialize them. They have aptitudes for poetry and any genre that allows them to express their feelings through letters. They may have hands-on skills, from sculpture, drawing or any form of design. They are constant people when it comes to learning something that catches their attention. They easily move the people around them, as they seek to say what they genuinely feel and think. They tend to be somewhat reserved with their thoughts at first but when they express them, they will not express them abruptly or shouting. They take their time to learn, they like to do things at their own pace and not feel pressured, as they are susceptible to stress. It is difficult to change their mind, because even if they listen to yours, it is likely that they will not stop thinking the way they do.
Since they were children, these natives questioned everything, from what surrounded them to the actions or behaviors of those who accompanied them. Pure and present curiosity for as long as they can remember, a clear representation of Gemini in the 4th house. A desire to understand others at a deep level because of the feeling of never having been understood themselves. Many of these natives experience constant changes in their home, from moving to issues of family dynamics. They may have grown up in a chaotic or changing environment; one parent may have been emotionally distant. It is likely that since they were children they have had problems, whether it be excess mental and/or physical energy, nerves or anxiety in some cases. They may have closeness and constant communication with a particular member of their families. They are very reserved people with their past and emotions, they hardly feel that they can talk about it with others. They do not enjoy small talk much, they tend to prefer deep and more meaningful conversations. These natives are fun, spontaneous and very expressive, but due to circumstances and experiences, they have learned to hide this side of them. They prioritize fluid communication with those with whom they have an emotional bond; they will always seek to make the other person comfortable to speak freely about what they feel. They may have had tense experiences in their childhood, such as dealing with people who were hypocritical or overly critical of them. They find comfort in the idea of learning new things, yes, but most likely these natives have comfort series, books or movies that they return to when they don't feel well. Many of them express their discomfort, or in general any type of emotions through writing. Journaling, making poetry or simply writing can be activities that allow them to feel better and more liberated.
These natives are incredibly romantic and attentive in their relationships. They look for a relationship that allows them to be emotionally vulnerable and that is related to Cancer in the 5th house. Love with them feels like a warm blanket, which gives you warmth, protection and reaffirmation. For them there is no better sign of love than dedicating time, energy and devotion to the other person. They nourish their relationships a lot and always work on them, making necessary changes both in the dynamics of the relationship and in their love language, since they adapt to their partner's to make them feel loved. They prioritize the comfort of both themselves and their partners. Its beauty and appeal lies more on the tender, tender and soft side. They usually have attractive and sweet faces, as well as expressive eyes. Regardless of how they show themselves to the world and how they decide to face it, in their relationships they are softies, and they tend to attract people who become attached to them. They attract mysterious and reserved people with their emotions who have a huge heart. For them, a relationship equals comfort, unconditional support and a deep connection. Their partners' past matters to them as a way to understand them better. Caring and being cared for is important in the dynamics of romance for these natives to enjoy.
With Leo in the 6th house it is very likely that the native has excellent creative and/or artistic abilities. These are people who can gain a lot of recognition through their work or a skill they have worked on for a long time. In the work area they may be very loved or appreciated, they are seen as talented, capable and charismatic, however, that natural brilliance that they possess can attract envious people or people who want to steal some of their light. They are generous people par excellence, they will never hesitate to help, support or share with those they love. Having a strong work ethic, being responsible, honest and devoted are values that have been instilled in them since they were young. It is likely that from childhood they were taught to work hard and value not only their own efforts but those of others. Many of these natives tend to prefer to be given compliments about their abilities, the way they do things or their results, not forgetting to mention that they can be modest or dismissive with other types of compliments, not knowing how to react to them. They like to do things that they can put their whole heart into. They need to see the importance behind a task to want to do it and will not waste their time on things that they do not perceive as genuinely useful or important to them. They have this way of doing things well or not doing them at all, they can be very demanding of themselves and of seeing tangible results. Many of these natives may experience pain in the chest and/or back if they are subjected to a lot of stress. For them it is crucial to truly love their job, because they feel that hating their job is no longer bearable for a little more money. Passion is important for them when starting a project, so if the passion runs out they will not hesitate to drop the task in question.
With Virgo in the 7th house we can observe what these natives look for in their relationships, especially those they want to maintain long term and this is reliability and mutual support. They are so used to giving a lot to others and supporting them fully no matter what, they are extremely devoted and giving to those who have the place of their heart, but it is highly disappointing when that is not given back to them. They tend to be so hard on themselves, overly self-critical of their actions in a relationship. If Mercury makes tense aspects, it is very likely that after breakups they will think that they are guilty or have a feeling of responsibility about it. They will always seek to improve their relationships, frequently asking their partners about how they feel more comfortable or how to make them feel more loved. They are looking for a reliable partner who supports and motivates them, someone who looks after their well-being and who accepts them without conditions, someone who makes them feel sufficient and happy with who they are. With this placement the natives will have a future spouse dedicated to them and the relationship, someone modest who will work hard and know how to appreciate the natives' efforts and intentions. It will be a relationship that will emerge little by little, they will get to know each other more and more and along with this, not only love but admiration will grow more and more. Both will try to resolve any issue that arises, knowing how to listen to each other and proposing solutions. Both will arrive at a point in each other's lives where they are focused on themselves whether it is improving, healing or working.
Giving and receiving equally is an internal desire that lies in Libra in the 8th house. That longing to show oneself completely to their special one and fully know the other, that fervent yearn, the need to be transparent with someone willing to be genuine with them. There is a set of internal conflicts between wanting that intense, passionate and extremely devoted connection with the fear of being vulnerable, the fear of becoming dependent on someone or that someone becomes too absorbed with them. The fear of giving everything and being betrayed. It is difficult to trust opening up and there is nothing that terrifies them more than the risk of doing so to the wrong person. Having them as a couple is an experience like no other, not only because of the passion and sensuality of these lovers, but also because of the intense and genuine devotion that they give you. They are able to love you completely, to form a connection that feels real, one in which you do not pretend to be someone you are not or one in which you do not feel like you have to be someone else. They experience great transformations during and after their relationships, they have a tendency to seek or attract deep relationships where there is a strong bond between them. They are fascinating lovers who manage to make you feel desired with a look, who through their touch transmit the whirlwind of emotions that you provoke in them. They love intensely, there is no doubt in them, all or nothing, I love you or I don't love you. They think a lot before entering a relationship, and once they are in one, they immerse themselves completely.
These natives are constantly searching for a deep meaning to the world around them, something beyond the visible, and that need to see beyond what simple sight allows them to do is thanks to Scorpio in the 9th house. They feel a growing attraction for complex topics that mark them in some way or leave them introspective, since they spend a lot of their time in their heads, analyzing and trying to understand what seems intriguing to them. A desire to investigate topics that seem mysterious to them, inclination for spiritual topics, psychology or solving mysteries/riddles of all kinds. A lot of transformation through travel and chances of traveling to distant lands. Physical and spiritual journeys, many feelings of epiphanies throughout their lives. Fascination or fixation with a specific type of culture. A complex relationship with religion, being either very devoted to their beliefs or having experienced complex things thanks to the religious beliefs of their parents or family. Inquisitive minds, however they do not make it obvious that they know many things, they are very humble people regarding their knowledge, but they firmly trust in what they know. In them there is more knowledge than what is seen, they are very astute and although they seek to see the bigger picture, it is difficult for the details to go unnoticed, since they have the mixture of perception and strong intuition, which makes them perceive things that can be subliminal.
Natives with Sagittarius in the 10th house are curious souls by nature, people who aspire for great things and constantly dream of obtaining, achieving and being. They look for jobs that allow them to expand, intellectually, or expand their joy and emotional well-being. Many people tend to see them as genuine people who are easy to work with and people who, regardless of whether they are introverted or extroverted, will always be cordial. They can become very influential people in their work, since Jupiter, the planet of luck, rules this house, making them prone to finding success at work and easily moving or influencing people. They are likely to travel constantly and come into contact with foreign things thanks to their work. These people aspire to do good, to do the right thing and in many cases to contribute positively to the lives of others through their work. Some jobs for these people are teachers, artists, journalism, international relations, human resources, work in travel agencies, lawyers. In the eyes of the public they have charm, as they have a mixture of charisma, ambition and authenticity. Despite wanting to be recognized for their abilities, many of these natives can find it overwhelming to have a lot of attention, so they need that balance between alone time and public time.
Precisely because of their energy and sensitivity to other people's vibes, they are very selective about who they surround themselves with. Capricorn in the 11th house makes them accept their friends as they are and seek to give them a lot of support, but it is difficult for them to give that title to anyone. They prefer closed and stable circles, they take friendship seriously and can be very devoted to them. These natives have a tendency to attract friends with greater maturity or age, and they will admire the maturity and abilities of the natives. Friendships with long age differences. They may see it as a strong support for a friend/certain group of friends, finding a sense of family more in them than in their biological families. They can have great economic gains thanks to their career, from having high or important positions, or even a lot of prestige in their work. They aspire for big things and it is not enough for them to just dream, they like to make them come true and work hard to achieve them. Contrary to what one would believe with this placement, they are very ambitious and hardworking dreamers, as they will always be thinking about how to materialize everything that they have always longed to have. They believe in the power of hard work and many of them are not naive or excessively overzealous as they are projected.
The noise out there has become overwhelming, the looks of some have become heavy, all those times you felt judged, underestimated or left out for being your precious self has led you to lock yourself away, that beautiful and enormous heart and everything. That which makes you unique in a small world, where you can be safe from being viewed with disdain. People with Aquarius in the 12th house are reserved with certain sides of themselves, be it their thoughts, hobbies or in some cases feelings, on some occasions they may feel separated and different from others, the feeling of being an outsider can be common with this placement. In them lies a creative mind and an accepting soul, which seeks to know others deeply and remove from their lives everything that is superficial. They always seem very perceptive of their environment and those around them, they even generate interest in everything that allows them to know themselves and others better, as a result of a feeling of not having been understood. They have a high creative potential and can excel enormously in a hobby or one of their passions, but they may fear criticism and little acceptance from others. These people fear rejection from people, especially from those they open up to, thinking they are different. They have an open personality, they do not run away from or criticize minds other than their own, they will always try to understand and accept people. They feel that impulse in them to accept and include others because of the wound of not having been accepted themselves. In these natives lies a beautiful being, with unique ideas and emotions, who will hardly show himself completely to others, only those who inspire true confidence. Their longing and desire is to be free from these internal chains and cages that hold back those sides of their being that they feel will be judged.
#pisces#astrology#pisces rising#pisces ascendant#natal chart#birth chart#pisces in the 1st house#astro note#pisces asc#rising#ascedant#astro notes#astro observations
885 notes
·
View notes
Note
I need more info on the get better children au, especially about when Bill shows up.
*rubs hands together* I finally got some extra time to draw up some new art for this AU, so let's give it some substance >:3 Long post below the read more with extra art :D
Before Euclydia was destroyed, Euclid and Scalene Cipher were some of its most powerful members. Bill saying that everyone loved him as a baby was true for a time; children aren't born very often, and the Ciphers are considered to almost be royalty. It wasn't until Bill's mutation became apparent that people began to shun him. If he had been born to any other family, he likely would have been abandoned.
Though neither Euclid nor Scalene could really comprehend the concept of something being "up", let alone what "stars" could possibly be, both of them used their status to try and find any scrap of forbidden information, hoping that they could find an answer, could find some confirmation that their son wasn't crazy, and didn't need to be blinded by his "medicine."
It was this research that eventually saved their lives. Having the knowledge that it was possible for things to, hypothetically, exist in a three dimensional plane allowed them to pool their powers and create 3D forms for themselves when Euclydia began to burn, pulling themselves off the 2D plane like a sticker being peeled off a page. It wasn't a smooth transition in the slightest, and the flames managed to damage parts of their bodies before they managed to fully free themselves. The rest of their power went into escaping their collapsing reality, and when all was said and done, they were left near catatonic and floating in the space between time and space for many, many years.
They don't really start to recover until a certain frilly guy upstairs nudges them into a new, stable dimension. This one is almost entirely 3D, and inhabited by creatures that look completely alien to the Euclydians. Creatures called humans.
They meet Dipper and Mabel not long after, and the two triangles attach themselves to the babies, doing their best to care for them in their weakened states when their young, unprepared parents fail to be adequate caretakers. Being 2D is far easier for them, so they stick to the walls like shadows and find ways to speak to the twins, slipping into videos and pictures, music and books, their forms changing slightly to match whatever media they slipped into. They teach Dipper and Mabel their colours, shapes, ABC's, ect, comfort them when they get sad or scared, and once they're old enough, how to do basic things like getting themselves food and water when they get left alone too long.
Neither Pines parent really notices their children making grabby hands and babbling at open air at first, though they do become a bit concerned when years pass and they still stare at walls and empty corners like there's something there.
Eventually, as we all know, the Pines twins get shipped off to a sleepy town in Oregon, and Euclid and Scalene are, of course, coming along to watch over their little stars. However, they become deeply uncomfortable when they start to see visages of their son carved into every room of the twin's temporary home.
It doesn't take long for the show's antics to start, but Grunkle Stan gets involved in the twins adventures far earlier because during The Inconveniecing, Euclid uses his ability to manipulate televisions to play one of those old PSA's on loop until he gets spooked enough to actually check on the twins, only to find them missing.
Eventually, through the help of Scalene using a radio to drag up an old advert for the Dusk 2 Dawn, he figures out where they are and arrives just in time to see the tail end of their ghostly encounter. Unable to deny his knowledge of Gravity Falls' weirdness, he and the twins have their Season 1 finale talk that night, and Dipper shows Stan Journal 3, which leads to all three of them searching for Journal 2 (Stan doesn't reveal the portal yet)
Bill gets summoned by Gideon like in Canon, but things veer wildly off course when, upon entering Stan's mind, Mabel asks him if he knows Euclid or Scalene. He freezes up upon hearing the names of his parents, and he immediately calls off the deal with Gideon, ripping himself out of Stan's Dreamscape. Before he can process what happened, he comes face to face with someone he's only seen in daymares for the past trillion years
Bill dips the fuck out once he realizes he's not hallucinating, disappearing to Axolotl knows where to do fun, productive things such as: scream, cry, break shit, sob on the floor, drink until the teeth in his eye ache, stare at the space between stars for days on end, and interrogate every single one of his henchmaniacs to see if they spiked his drink.
Mans has absolutely zero clue on how to navigate this situation, eventually settling on stalking the Pines because he genuinely cannot think of any possible way to approach his (apparently alive????) parents. How do you go about atoning for the extinction of your entire species?
Bill Cipher has never been one to do things for others for any other reason than to get something back, but he figures the best place to start is by protecting these fleshy human young that his parents seem so attached to.
Wait, would that make them siblings? Axolotl, he sure hopes not.
#the book of bill#the book of bill spoilers#gravity falls#bill cipher#gravity falls au#dipper pines#mabel pines#grunkle stan#stanley pines#euclid cipher#scalene cipher#get better children au
744 notes
·
View notes
Text
⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania
˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦
Alastor demands you tell him what you’d consider a nice date, which makes a surprisingly lovely time in the library. Dancing leads to… not dancing and a minor rearranging of your guts. And finally, you try to shame Alastor out of Mania and Alastor finds himself having to explain, well, Alastor.
「warnings/promises: Smut, guts➡️rearranged, kinda dub➡️con cuz Alastor still doesn’t listen, but funnily enough neither do you?, lots of interrupting each other, Luci’s hat, you’re down so fucking bad lmao」
🎶 minors DNI 🎵
Angel was live blogging everything you said when you recounted what happened to you after returning to the hotel.
“Wait there’s a character limit, I gotta make a new post.” He was wiping actual tears from his eyes, “Fuck this is funny.”
“Hmmph,” Alastor offered a small noise from his end of the sofa. Neither of you had mentioned or even referenced the sex. There was a strange feeling between you that it didn’t happen so it didn’t need a discussion. But also that it had absolutely happened, as Alastor’s hands found renewed vigor in their search for you when in public and private and your body seemed to respond in kind. You’d still occasionally move his hand off of you, but there was a pulse of electricity every time. When his hand would come to rest on your upper thigh while seated beside each other in the common areas, you let it linger. What harm was it? Heaven wasn’t fucking watching.
Everything aside, the sex had done nothing to dispel his interest. Perhaps you’d only made it worse, for both of you.
By midweek you found the sling useless, happily tossing it aside and beginning gentle stretches. That was more progress than you'd made in your main task.
Every morning you woke up beside Alastor, every day you had him in your orbit, every night you fell asleep feet from him.
Had Mania not taken him he would be a prime candidate for showing the virtue of true love. He was already fucking there, a captive audience. But that wasn’t how it worked. Cupid-induced manic love could never be true. Nothing you created was true, really. But atleast with Eros or Agape you could still have added the notion of true love to the mix. His heart would still be receptive and open to the idea. The way he was now, you could proselytize until you were blue in the face and he’d still think manic love was true love.
An unintended consequence of living with Alastor was discovering you both had quite a bit in common, as much as that information irked you. He enjoyed horror movies such as ‘Dracula’, you enjoyed horror movies as well, just newer ones. Ones in color. He could cook quite well, something you enjoyed to do. And his taste in music was actually lovely. You had assumed he listened to screams on a 7 hour loop.
Actually, upon closer inspection, Alastor was nothing like you had initially assumed. While he had shown you he was capable of terrifying feats of strength and power, he was also remarkably gentle. Every time you descended the stairs his hand was barely felt as it hovered at your elbow ready to save you.
Early in the week you fell asleep watching the group play a board game, somehow redemption related, and awoke with his coat laid over your body. When you thanked him, he just smiled and continued enjoying watching Niffty hide the play money.
You were finding yourself more and more wishing the arrow had never fallen. If you’d just met him as you fell, perhaps you would be staring into that portal home. There were definitely worse options around. Even his imposing height had begun to…not bother you, perhaps was the best way to say it.
Or his large hands. There was a safety in the way they rested on your back. Speaking of…
Your throat ran dry when he leaned into you, one of those hands sliding across your thigh, and asked against your ear, “Ready to go?”
He had to have seen you licking your lips to unstick your teeth. With a nod, he stood and offered a hand to you.
You both were already out of the elevator and walking to your room when he slowed, coming to stop just in front of you.
His room, fucking hell.
“You know, I was thinking,” he wasn’t looking as he spoke to you, which was odd given how often he stared at you. “If you’re going to be here with me from now on-“
You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up, “I’d like to know the things you enjoy doing with your romantic interests.” His smile was almost pure, you could tell he was genuinely asking.
“Well I don’t have any so, why would you care?”
“No things you enjoy?”
“No romantic interests.”
His head lolled to the side, “Sometimes I think you say things just to bother me.”
You did.
“I do.”
You thought if you kept being rude maybe you could keep him at an arm’s length. Not get too attached. You’d been kind to people you didn’t like before and eventually you started to like them. This was that. But opposite.
He stared down at you, taking a step closer. You took one back. That smile shifted from pure to sinister, his eyes half lidded. You could almost see the thoughts playing on his face.
“Alastor-,” your back hit the elevator doors. The pounding of your heart when he brought his face to yours drowned out the sounds of the button being pressed. When the doors opened you fell backward with a yelp, but a strong arm caught you by the waist.
“You have twelve floors.” His hand hit the first floor button, “You can share with me your idea of a quality date. Or I can show everyone,” that clawed hand came to your neck, sliding down the evidence of your pounding heart, “how pretty you scream.”
As soon as the doors closed you were pressed against the elevator wall, right leg pulled up and around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare.” You had meant it to sound strong but instead it was half whispered with a shaky voice.
He popped a button off your blouse, “Maybe!” Warm mouth now on your neck, his tongue ran over your pulse, “I wonder if everyone is still in the lobby.”
Over his shoulder you watched the numbers counting down. The hand that cut off the button slid down to your bottoms, slipping under the waistband.
On the 3rd floor the elevator stopped. When the doors opened a demon you didn’t recognize was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open. He didn’t make a move to enter, Alastor looking over his shoulder and sharing what you could only assume was a death glare. The flickering lights were a giveaway to his anger.
His fingers dipped down and cupped your sex, hot palm pressing into your folds.
The doors closed again and you watched the second floor light up. A finger bent and pressed into you.
A nibble at your ear, “You know I’ll win, regardless.”
He was right. Which was the smaller defeat? Humiliation or just telling the bastard your idea of a nice time?
“Books. Drinks.” You squeaked, the first floor lamp now aglow. His hand pulled away just as the doors opened.
Expecting him to gloat you were surprised he just hit the 10th floor button. The library.
He opened the door for you. The library’s main area had two reading chairs bookending a long antique sofa. You took the chair furthest from the door, hearing the door lock.
With a snap, the entire bar with Husk included seemed to fall three inches out of thin air.
“Oh for fucks sake.” Husk looked around, already annoyed, “You coulda just fucking asked for drinks to bring with you. You know cups are portable, right?”
It was nice, actually. Husk poured, you both read. There was an unnecessary fireplace crackling behind you. Cozy. And it got cozier and warmer the more you drank. Your shields softened as the glasses emptied.
Your book was good, but as you felt the alcohol hit you were reminded of the last time you’d gotten a little past tipsy. Sneakily, but not at all, your eyes wandered over to Alastor.
His legs were crossed, but you could remember looking down and seeing them spread open beneath you. Open. Did many people see him like you had? Had his talk about a disinterest in sex actually been a trick to intrigue you? It hadn’t worked, you genuinely didn’t care what his preferences were. If anything it made you less likely to make a pass.
Your eyes wandered down his slender neck to his wide shoulders. Less than a week ago your arms were resting there. Further down, you remembered that soft bit of fur at the base of his cock, a small trail from his belly button.
Husk watched your face turn pink, “You good?” Your head whipped around, looking confused. “You’re getting red.”
Oh. I was just thinking about my pussy drowning in Alastor’s cum.
No, obviously not!
Alastor’s eyes left his book and found yours. They were so red; his eyes, not your cheeks. No one in heaven had such wicked an appearance. When you didn’t reply, busy staring back at Alastor, Husk groaned, “Aah fuck.”
“What are you reading?” You asked, clearly able to see the book title from where you sat.
Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”
“Never read it.”
You had read it.
Setting your book down, you tried to walk as straight as a line as you could to him. You took the book from his hands and sat down on his lap, back against his chest, before picking it up again. “What page are we on?”
“You can leave, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even look at Husk when he said it, eyes still on your face.
When the door closed and Alastor could lock it with a snap, he uncrossed his legs. “Would you like to start over dear? From the beginning.”
Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
“Can we?” You leaned your head onto his shoulder. When had he become so comfortable…?
“We can.” The book was set aside, his left hand pulling your chin up, “I think we skipped a few chapters before.”
You opened your mouth, “I don’t like kissing.”
“You will.”
The front part of your brain dissolved, you were sure of it. Your decision making abilities were entirely eradicated as his lips pressed into yours. Fuck, maybe even your basic motor skills had been fried, his tongue swiping across your mouth before you just—opened. Your hips ground down into his lap, and you felt his smile widen against your lips.
“Stop smiling. I just like warm bodies.” You reached for the book and opened it to the first page, “and you’re so fucking warm.”
He began to read, but between the rumble of his chest, his voice in your ear, and the heat of his body, you fell asleep.
No matter. Alastor just hummed. With a summoning of his shadow you both sank into your shared bed, where he continued reading with you against his chest.
You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.
Was it so bad, being in hell? Sure you had a fucking deer demon as guard dog but it seemed his mania was … not so terrible. Honestly he seemed relatively normal now. He would wander off for significant lengths of time, even leaving in the mornings while you were still lazing about. A kiss to your hand was the indicator he would be popping off somewhere.
Alastor still wouldn’t let Lucifer alone with you, but otherwise everything was okay. You’d even come to enjoy certain aspects of his possessiveness. That ever present hand, for example. Even when it wasn’t on you, you could still almost feel it. It had become second nature now.
The week was actually peaceful. Your pain was entirely gone, you could move about freely. Despite that Alastor still would press up behind you and offer to help dress you. An offer you declined, but every time he asked you paused longer and longer before saying no.
Alastor was happy to find you in the library toward the end of the week, you having wandered off when he was called away. He summoned a confused but pissed off Husk again, who was midway through making someone else’s drink. He set it aside, pouring Alastor his whiskey. You decided against drinking, you knew you always made poor decisions. Like sleeping.
Delighted by the impressive collection you found a non-fiction and settled into the same large chair.
“Reading is a virtue.” He said to himself yet out-loud, taking a seat and setting the radio on from across the room. Etta James. ‘Somethings got a hold of me.’
“A little past your time, isn’t it?” You smiled, you liked songs about love. Not because of who you were, you just liked the idea of someone so enamored they have to make art.
He laughed, “Nosey little bird, have you been asking about me?”
Well shit. You had forgotten to play dumb. The past couple weeks you had casually inquired about Alastor from the other staff members. A modest collection of facts to help you better understand the man. A quick recovery. “Know your enemy!”
He cackled, “Sun Tzu! What does Cupid need ‘The Art of War’ for?!”
What, did he expect you to only read romance novels and Roman mythos? “You can’t make a shadow without light. In fact,” you put the book down, “The Greeks thought Cupid was a child of War and Beauty.”
Okay well, Greek mythos is a little different than their Roman counterpart’s. So. There.
Alastor watched you leaning over the arm of the chair, no sign of pain as you did so. Your injury must have mended well. “Do you have parents?” He asked, genuinely wondering how your kind were created.
“No, we're just… made. And then sent off on assignments.”
“You must be terribly busy, just one person for all of earth.” If Alastor could pull some limbs and find out more from anyone but you, he would, but unfortunately no one but Vaggie would know anything about you and he had a feeling her time in heaven was never spent thinking about love.
“Oh, actually not so much! When I’m with humans I can travel around without worrying about the concept of time at all. But it takes a toll.” Or so you were told. There were never two Cupids at one time so you couldn’t really ask your predecessors. Alastor’s brows rose, unsure how exactly a Cupid could be taxed if they didn’t feel pain and couldn’t be hurt. “Every trip to Earth weakens us. Until our bodies just, I guess, give out.” A smile crept across your face, unsure what expression you were supposed to be making.
“Is it just Earth? Or,” he lowered the radio volume with just a glance, “Every time you leave heaven?” It would take a great effort to not notice the weight suddenly blanketing the library. Silence was heavy with what he was really asking you. Would remaining here kill you?
It was a great question. Wow he’s really good at this. It almost seemed like he gave a shit. No one had ever asked you about your creation, about your work. It was nice. Even from him. Maybe especially from him.
You had never been to hell, so you couldn’t be sure, but, “I think it’s a human-world time-thing. But I guess we’ll find out!” Another misplaced smile before you awkwardly leaned back and picked up the book.
While you hadn’t noticed the slip up you had made, Alastor had. “I suppose we will.”
You would find out, because you wouldn’t be returning to heaven. He was glad you, even if unconsciously, understood that. And perhaps you could live forever if you never returned to earth.
When the song ended, you offered one of your own.
Alastor was pleasantly surprised to hear you request Nat King Cole’s ‘It’s almost like being in love’.
Standing, he offered you his hand for a dance. “Ugh I hate this cheesy shit.” You said it but stood anyway, putting your hands in his.
Alastor laughed, swaying side to side, “Not a fan of romance? Has Cupid never been in love?”
Those were two seperate things. How could you explain? “Drug dealers number one rule. Never get high off your own supply. That would be—.”
Lonely. Pathetic.
“A bad idea.” His cheek rested on your head. It was a shockingly tender act. “Can you understand? Why would I want something I made. What’s special about that?”
“And what of true love? It isn’t made by you, yes?” Asked into your hair.
“Yeah but when will I ever find the time to make a connection worthwhile. Winners and Angels are gluttons for choice, I am obviously built for a fun time not a long time.” Which you were…fine with. Yeah. I mean, what choice did you have? “And I don’t want to force it…so…” you trailed off. The rest didn’t matter.
He nodded, suppressing another laugh. “I see. Well, allow me to give you something you inspired, how about that? Not made. Would you say no, my muse?”
Inspired? Like a song? “Ha, what have I inspired in you, heathen.”
Alastor stopped dancing, his hand pulling your face up for a kiss which took you by surprise.
“Seriousl-,” Husk mercifully disappeared in a flash of neon green.
You couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, much like many of the moments you surrendered to Alastor. It was so fast and he was so strong, his hands large and confident in how they moved you. Before you knew it you were bent over the sofa’s arm getting fucked so hard your leg was shaking and your stomach nauseous.
This was much better than songs or art or whatever you inspired in others. You were gasping with every breath, the action somehow heightening the sensations. The little huffs and groans your body was pulling from him had your heart racing.
His cock was smashing your womb into your guts, the entire organ suddenly feeling like a new pleasure spot. Every jolt to your cervix made a novel kind of bliss pool in your stomach.
You cried, head empty as he completely left your heat before bottoming out again, “Stop, Alastor. Stop.” A strained moan, hands gripping the wooden sofa arm, “stop, stop, fuuuuck.”
He was pulling out too far and too fast, hitting back too hard and too deep. Your cunt felt swollen around him, your entrance so soft and wet he didn’t need precision to sink back in.
“Does it hurt?” He said quickly on the down beat of his thrust.
“Nngh no.”
“Theeen, no.”
Alastor pulled you up by your chin, back bending as he titled your mouth to his. Despite your mouth hanging open with your tongue out as salacious as you’d ever been, you told him, “I really don’t kiss during sex.”
The look in his downcast eyes sent a shiver along your spine, a power there you couldn’t push against, “You do now, my dear.”
When in hell, you supposed. You didn’t even try to argue, accepting his tongue wrapping around yours and exploring your mouth while his dick churned up your insides. Full from top to bottom. Full of Alastor. Safe. Wanted. Needed.
You pulled away when there was an overwhelming bone-deep sensation spilling through your hips and down your thighs. The muscles felt weak there, and you had an urge to runaway from it but Alastor held you still.
A scream of ecstasy as both legs shook violently, you finally got your hands free orgasm but to your shock it didn’t stop. As it appeared to wane, it just started mounting again. By the third roll, Alastor came with a push so deep your chest fell over the arm of the sofa. If not for the hands bruising your hips, you would have fallen off entirely.
The ache in your stomach began immediately, you’d have thought someone had been punching you in the gut. Well, more literally than they had been. When you groaned and complained to Alastor about what he had done, he pulled you up by your waist.
You were drawn into him, back to his chest again with your body between those long legs. His hands came to your stomach. Alastor massaged deep circles into your abdomen.
“Does that help?” His high voice lowered, husky and kind into your ear. You nodded, the pressure relieved the discomfort.
You wondered if he was used to taller demons than your shorter heavenly form, or perhaps he wasn’t used to anyone at all. Maybe sinners had more room than you did.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe it or not,” probably not, “I’m never trying to hurt you.”
Was it terrible you actually did believe him? Yes he was a serial killer, and considered one of the most cruel overlords in recent memory. But he was always gentle when his hands were on you. Flits of memories of him washing your feet came back to you.
“I know perhaps,” his hands kept moving, your back already stuck to his with well earned sweat, “I have at times been easily incensed.”
You nodded quickly.
“But, It’s just,” you heard him swallow hard, “ah I absolutely hate this,” He whispered it to himself. “I’m just scared you’ll leave before I’ve managed to convince you how much happier I can make you here.”
It’s not that it was funny, necessarily, but the very idea hell could be happier than Heaven was laughable. It was Heaven. It was made to be happy. It existed purely to please.
The smile faded from your face. Well, for the winners. It was made to please the winners. It wasn’t made for you, but you still got much enjoyment. You had…sex. Great sex. Not held aloft in a radio tower great, but…You always came. Everyone did. Wasn’t that the point of it?
Wasn’t that the point?
What was the point?
A warm and lonely bed is better than an empty one alone. So.
Well, your bed was always warm and never lonely in hell now that you’d been “moved”.
You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming.
Okay well the hotel had a pool. And yes, if you weren’t running off to earth on command you’d have more energy for hobbies.
What were you thinking about this for again?
You gathered the scraps of your relevant thoughts, “Happiness isn’t being confined to a hotel, Alastor.”
“As soon as you show me you won’t leave me, I won’t care where you go. As long as you’re safe.” One of his hands left your stomach to stroke your cheek, “I’m just waiting for you to realize what I already know.”
If Alastor were to ease his grip on you, could you enjoy yourself? Well, more than you did. But it was more than that, you had to admit you hated the idea of losing, of just running away. “I don’t like giving up.”
His laugh was quiet but it rocked you as his chest moved. “Darling they threw you to hell and told you you’re not allowed to leave unless you do homework. Giving up what? Being a servant to heaven?”
If he had said it a couple weeks prior, you would have left the room indignant. But now, settled against his hot skin and being so softly touched, it sounded like tough love.
“I don’t belong here though.” You were talking to yourself. So many excuses.
His arms wrapped around your chest to hug you into him, “You belong wherever I am.” His cheek pressed against yours, “I won’t let you go.”
A threat. A threat you leaned into and warmed yourself with. A threat a quiet part of you hoped he kept his word on.
You were getting too comfortable. Every morning you woke up to Alastor curled into your body, holding you tightly to him and you found yourself smiling before your consciousness clicked on. At some point in the last week he grabbed your chin and kissed you good night and suddenly every time he left your side you allowed a kiss to your cheek before he parted. What was worse was how you’d talk in bed about your recent reads and what happened the few hours you weren’t with each other.
The thing that made you realize you were getting honestly too deep was when you went to go to bed early and actually took the elevator past your floor, walked all the way to his station and told him good night. You’d made it to his chair and were leaning down for your kiss when your face fell flat.
He asked what was wrong but you shook your head. A poorly faked smile offered to him.
You sat in your bed. His bed. Your bed?
You sat in bed and wondered how to press forward. Two months, nearly, you’d been in hell. At this rate surely heaven had made a replacement. If you could make it back quickly you could still keep your place.
A decision was made, you’d never confronted Alastor head on. You had misunderstood his illusion of you. But maybe if you just forced it into his thick skull he’d been controlled and puppeted by an arrow, not his free will, he would abandon it to save his pride.
Knees to your chest, why were you crying again? Did you want to go home?
No, you wanted to curl into his stupid fucking lap and listen to him hum his stupid old, forgotten songs. You wanted to dance while Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. You wanted to feel loved.
But you weren’t made to want things. And Alastor didn’t love you.
Okay, one more night to enjoy yourself before you pissed him off so much he kicked you out of his bed. Or took such a turn into obsession he never let you leave the room again, allowing you to shirk responsibility for not returning to heaven.
When you turned the handle there was resistance, the door pushing in.
“Alastor? Done already?” He’d seemed busy earlier.
He closed the door and locked it. Oh. A blush. The sound of a locking door had come to mean certain things to you.
“You seemed bothered.” His thumb wiped where your tears had already dried, “What ever is the problem? Did someone upset you? Some neck I should wring?” You shook your head no. His other hand came to join in holding your face, those goddamned red eyes melting you to nothing, “Some limbs I should snap?” He took a step toward you and you took two back, hands holding his wrists. Another no. “Or some cheeks I should kiss?”
Stop crying.
An eager nod. “Don’t cry, my love.” Soft lips catching your tears, thin fingers wiping them away. He kept walking forward and you kept walking back until your legs hit the bed.
One more night, just in case. In case he forfeits the mania.
You kissed his neck, startling him. “Rare form. Did you need some more intimate attention, darling?” You tried to avoid initiating, never knowing what he wanted or when, never wanting to enjoy his touch too much. “I could indulge you.”
What you wanted was to be reduced so thoroughly to just a physical creature by way of pleasure that your mind disconnected from your brain. Fucked dumb, as people said. Alastor wouldn’t know what that meant but you were confident he’d enjoy sussing out the finer details of the meaning if it meant your full surrender.
You bit down on his neck, getting you pushed onto the bed in return. “I need overindulgence. I don’t wanna feel anything tonight but you.” You should practice your manners, for heaven's sake. “Please.”
There it was again. That look that turned your bones to jelly and your brain to cotton; that downcast half lidded stare as he towered over you that promised to devour you whole. His hand pulled at his bow tie and loosened his collar, knees on the bed as his legs spread you open at the thighs.
“Good girl.”
No punishment or inspiration, just that mental numbness that turned off all your worries. We’re you making stupid faces? We’re your sounds embarrassing? Didn’t matter. You didn’t care. You clung to his body like you’d fall apart without his skin on yours. Because you would, in some fashion.
Every gap between your bodies felt like room for doubt. So you filled them with flesh and sighs and moans.
With his height difference you were smothered by him when in traditional heaven-approved missionary, but you liked lying on top. Your head only made it to his chest when your hips were positioned above his cock. You could go slack and let him move you on and off himself. You had been lying when you said you preferred to not move or make noise, but you’d learned he got harder and more feral when you let him manipulate your body any way he pleased.
He smelled like sweat and leather, probably from the chairs in the lobby. No one sweats in heaven, this seemed like a mistake now. You’d have to be sure to not wash your clothes after you left hell, or else you’d forget his scent.
After finishing, he was surprised to find you still clinging to his torso, arms under his armpits and hooked onto his shoulders. He offered to pull out and let you lie down but you just held on tighter in response. He glanced around the room, soft light and softer music on the radio. Your quiver and bow rested against the armoire, practically dusty. He asked if you were alright, a hand coming to your back with large claws gently scratching.
“Yeah I will be.” you lifted your head, waiting.
Both of his eyebrows rose, unsure what you were waiting on.
Complete surrender. “Good night kiss.” You had to stretch to meet his lips before settling back into his chest, “okay bore me to sleep with your day, sinner.” He gladly did, you falling asleep yet again to the sound of his slow heartbeat and the rumble of his words.
You awoke nauseous, already knowing your day was going to fucking suck and it’d be your own fault. The idea of approaching Alastor and initiating the conversation felt impossible, your feet became stone when you thought of it.
The coward’s option. Wait for time alone and then pace the library until he came to find you.
After an hour or so he did, smile brightening as he entered. “Should I summon the bar?”
You shook your head no, struggling to speak. He sat in his chair, book still on the small side table.
Heart pounding, you considered doing this another day or week or maybe year but knew you’d already lost so much time. “Alastor, I need to talk to you about my task.”
He snapped the book shut, eyes not leaving his hands. “Oh?”
“I need to leave the hotel or at least need serious time alone with someone. I need to change someone’s heart on true love. I can’t go home—,” you were cut off, Alastor standing quickly.
“Home?”
“Alastor.” You stood your ground even as his spine stretched and antlers widened.
“Your home is wherever I am.” A pained smile now, something akin to hurt in his eyes that did damage to you too. “Ah. So last night— and people say I’m cruel.”
“I’m not supposed to be here!”
A snap, his anger and desperation eclipsing his pain, “Why don’t you ever listen-,”
Your turn to cut him off, “Because you’re under a spell! You act so fucking tough like you’re in control all the time. But you’re not! It’s just the effect of the arrow.”
He laughed, but you kept going, “Don’t act like you’re sooo strong you can fight the effects of my shot. You don’t fucking love me. Not really, not naturally. It was an accident. You’re just— it’s been made by me. I don’t want it. I want something real and true.”
“My feelings are true, just let me speak. I can make you understand if you’d just listen to me.” Pupils like pins, teeth somehow sharper.
“Alastor you can’t have true love. Nothing triggered by my arrows can ever be true.”
Another ring of laughter, “Tell me then how your true love is different than mine, Oh Wise Cupid.”
You huffed, “Don’t talk down to me, radio demon. True love means caring deeply for someone else that occupies your heart and mind-,” he opened his mouth, looking around the room for where you found the audacity but you snapped twice to get his attention back, “not just that! You put them first without fear because if they truly love you they would never take advantage of that. It’s trusting them with the most fragile parts of yourself. It's a best friend. Someone who makes you feel like a better version of you, makes you want to always be improving yourself.”
Alastor was still smug, staring at you from his unnervingly demonic height, “Lovely! Last question, expert, is true love ever one sided?”
You thought for a beat, “It can be.”
He hummed, body swiftly resuming his smaller but, again, still too tall scale, antlers remaining fierce as his sinister smile dropped to just a small upward turn of his lips. “I see. You’ve truly enlightened me. I believe you.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on you.
You rolled your eyes and licked your lips to go off when a portal opened beside you.
Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.
You looked from Alastor to the circular doorway, taking small steps towards it. Your hand pressed through, confusion wiping your own smugness off your face.
Alastor began a mocking slow clap. “I’ve been convinced. Happy now? Task complete.”
“But- the love Mania causes…It clouds the mind, you can’t even process the idea of true love properly.” You searched the floor for some clarity.
His hands stopped, eyebrows meeting his bangs as a laugh that started typically but quickly morphed into maniacal filled the room. You just kept pushing your hand in and out of the portal. Alastor finally quieted, antlers fully drawn back into little prongs. He stared at you. A shiver as his smile reached his ears. That look again. You took a deep breath, ready to be eaten.
“Your little arrow didn’t pierce me, you glorious fool. It literally fell into my pocket. I was never under the effects of your magic. I said that many times.” He straightened out his suit jacket, “Very plainly, might I add. You just never listened to me. So sure you knew better than I did.”
You sputtered, too many thoughts trying to express themselves, “Why did you act like that then?!”
“Because I wanted you. Something something first sight, as I recall the adage goes.” He crossed his arms and looked at his claws, “Perhaps my love happens to be manic by default. I am a murderous overlord, darling.”
All the energy left your body, shoulders relaxing. “Oh.”
“So, here I am,” he opened his arms, “trusting you to not hurt me any further today. Does that fall into your narrow view of true love?”
A good question. You shifted your weight onto your other foot, looking back at heaven. You could see the shining gates.
He sighed and brought his arms down, “I can’t promise how long I’ll let you stand there and look at anything other than me.”
A warning.
A deep breath, another shift onto your other foot again as you shook the anxiety out of your hands before finally making eye contact with him, “Well, eldritch horror, prove it.”
You heard the door lock from across the room.
You decided heaven could wait. It took about two days before they seemed to notice you hadn’t entered the portal, which closed on its own some time between Alastor pushing you onto the floor and you begging him for more. Luckily St. Peter wasn’t privy to your escapades.
It was a fact Sera was aware you had completed your task, because a knock came to the library door on that second day after you did so. Entering without waiting for a reply, which was brave, Lucifer and his hat popped into the room.
“Heeeey giiiirl. I got a message from heaven asking what’s the hold up, worried you were incapacitated.”
From your seat in Alastor’s lap you lowered your book, “How nice of them to suddenly care about my well-being.” You brought the book back up, “Little late.”
He nodded, “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I can understand that. Sooo,” his fingers tapped the door, “What should I reply with?”
Alastor turned the page and hummed a reply, “Finders Keepers.”
ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,
🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan
@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re
@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp
@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic
#alastor smut#alastor#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader smut
919 notes
·
View notes