#It's like Hallow really grew up and is now able to see the specific kind of angst that used to drive him

[bonefall]

Are you keeping Hallowflight's and Ivypool's odd friendship they had going on in the DF as apprentices? I know the Erin's forgot about it after the great battle, but honestly thought it was kinda sweet how they became friends in literal cat hell and how Hallow tried to comfort Ivy after she perma-killed Ant. I just thought it was neat and something unique.

I see Hallowflight, after the BOTTE, as really wanting to distance himself from the friends he made there.

With his new Honor Title and this almost immediately legendary story, he went from an outcast loser to suddenly being a hero. His bully Mossyfoot died, and his other bully Troutstream changed her tune. Cats wanted to know him, calling him brave and commending his turnaround.

But that's not the case in the other Clans. ShadowClan outright exiled Redwillow, with the other two being killed in the fight. WindClan is furious at their trainees, and ThunderClan has the guy that almost snapped his son's neck.

Hallowflight's life got better because of his time there, but everyone else is worse off, and associating with them hurts his own shiny new reputation.

And like... that isn't something he's proud of. He knows better than anyone that ALL of them got pulled into the DF because they were angry, lonely, looking for meaning. Almost everyone who was a hard ideologue (Thornclaw, Whiskernose, Ratscar) DIED fighting for those ideas.

And yet, still, he is willing to stay quiet about Dodderheart, Shredbloom, and everyone else, only exchanging an awkward nod at Gatherings, not offering himself as a counterexample in their defense.

If they want to think he's a coward... so be it.

But of all the DF trainees, he's definitely closest to Ivypool, and I think he's willing to throw an endorsement of Harespring once he's out of his Dishonor Title and acting as deputy. He simply won't endanger his own reputation; Hallowflight has a family to consider.

(And then he loses two of his kids to the Impostor anyway, on both sides of the conflict, and Harelight's view of him is forever damaged... so, see how well neutrality worked out in the end.)

[ayamari-no-goshi]

I saw a post the other day about ghosts and funeral rites/burial customs and wanted to comment on it, but I can’t find it right now. So, musings will be here. I’ve read a lot of folklore and mythology over the years, and these are just a snippet of what I’m aware of.

The majority of funerary traditions relate to doing everything possible so that the deceased person’s soul will properly pass on to the afterlife and not stick around. These vary greatly between cultures and religions.

Traditionally, these rites tend to focus on “natural” deaths - illness, old age, severe injuries from accidents or war. Unnatural deaths like murder, suicide (this one depends on culture), execution, deaths at sea or in water are often treated differently. Sometimes, illness related deaths were also treated differently, particularly if tuberculosis, leprosy, or plague caused the death.

This is going to be long. So line break here:

First and foremost, the majority of cultures and religions believe that funerary and/or burial rites are absolutely necessary for the soul to be at rest. A lot of older traditions believe that if a dead body cannot be recovered, such as being lost at sea, that the soul will not be able to find rest. Some cultures made rites to try to appease those souls. Some just found ways to ward them off.

I grew up Catholic. Ghosts aren’t really talked about for Catholics as most confirmed hauntings get affiliated with demonic entities. However, it’s possible for a soul to end up in Purgatory before passing on to Heaven (other than being a place of suffering where sins are cleansed, there aren’t many descriptions of it). Last rites are designed to ensure sins are forgiven so that the person in question will not have to deal with that. It’s possible some ghosts are in Purgatory. Also, blessed burial grounds are important as a way to protect the body. Note: Limbo and Purgatory are not the same thing.

Moving on to different religions/cultural customs.

There are varying traditions throughout Europe regarding mourning the dead. Some state mourning can’t occur until the body was prepared for the viewing/wake/funeral as doing so before hand attracts unsavory entities that could take the deceased’s soul. Other stories warn that grieving in general could cause the newly dead to linger as they want to comfort their living relatives. Other myths state that too much grieving is the problem.

A Prussian story warns against this. A woman grieved for her lover who never returned from war. Her grief summoned her lover, who appeared to her one night, and whisked her away to join him in death. A Hungarian legend talks about an entity called a Lidérc, specifically the ördögszerető type (different entities can be referred to as a Lidérc). In some tales, excessive grief would summon it, and it would pray upon the still living in a similar fashion to a succubus or Incubus.

The covering of mirrors in a home where someone passed away shows up in a lot of different cultures. The length of time they need to be covers varies, but most of the time this was done to prevent the departed’s soul from being trapped in the mirror. In Europe at least, part of this was probably influenced by the Roman belief that mirrors reflected the soul.

Clocks are sometimes stopped when a person dies. The superstition states that if the spirit of the deceased sees that time is still passing, they’ll want to linger.

It’s also used to be common to place coins on the eyes of the deceased and/or place a coin in the mouth in a variety of cultures to take with them to the afterlife. Greek myth states that the coins were needed to pay the ferry to reach the afterlife, and those that couldn’t wandered the shores of Styx as ghosts for 100 years. However, the custom was most likely started as a way hide certain unsettling aspects of decay.

The ancient Greeks had very elaborate burial rites which were done to ensure the deceased properly passed on. The mythological figure of Sisyphus managed to escape the afterlife by having his wife not preform funeral/burial rites on his body. Some sources state ancient Greeks would clean the bones of the dead 3 years after burial, and this was partly done to check for Vrykolakas. While Vrykolakas are now considered to be vampiric, they are traditionally more of a Revanant - something trapped between the living and the dead, kind of like a zombie. A Vrykolakas could be made from simply not carrying out proper funeral/burial rites, but there are also tales that they could be created due to something left unfulfilled or to seek revenge. While I can’t find a lot of details about it, the festival of Nemeseia (which might or might not the same thing as or part of the Genesia festival) was, at least in part, a way to help ward off the vengeance of the dead. The third day of the Anthestria festival involved food offerings to the dead, and may also have acted as a way to appease souls.

The term Maschalismos refers to physically preventing the dead from rising again. In ancient Greece, the most widely documented example of this was to mutilate the corpse of a murder victim so if that person became a Vrykolakas, they wouldn’t be able to do much. But this tradition has been found throughout the world, and can be as simple as laying the corpse face down or as elaborate as putting pins or rocks in the body. The “vampire burials” fall under this category.

In part of Russia, mourners who followed the procession to burial place would sometimes wear masks to prevent the dead from recognizing them. In parts of Scandinavia, the dead were removed from a house through a newly made hole in the wall which was then fixed. The belief was that the spirit could only enter back into a building through the entrance/hole it left through.

In parts of China, the family of the deceased would make a contract to “buy” the burial plot from the local gods and spirits which is very unique. But just like in Europe, improper burials, incomplete rites, and revenge can cause a haunting. Also, it was believed that ghosts and some evil spirits could only move in straight lines and can be tricked by false walls/doors, so Chinese architecture and road design often reflected this. I also recently read that some cemeteries had mazes near the entrance for a similar reason, but I can’t place where I found it.

In a related note, those in Europe who were denied burial in hallowed ground such as executed criminals, were often buried at crossroads. At least part of this was to prevent the spirit of the dead from finding its way back to town and causing a haunting.

The last thing I want to touch on are the ghosts involving women who died in childbirth, stillborn children, and children who died shortly after birth. This shows up a lot in Asian folklore, but there are also similar tales from ancient Mesopotamia, the Aztecs, and of course, Europe. Ghosts of women who died in childbirth are usually considered vengeful and very dangerous. Some cultures have rituals to try to appease their souls to prevent their formation. Others don’t. In a lot of cultures, the ghosts of stillborn children and, specifically, unbaptized children are said to spread illness. .... I’m currently remembering that there’s ritualistic magic in part of south east Asia that uses persevered.... ah... either aborted or stillborn babies because of the folklore aspects regarding the ghosts formed from them.

[bennybentacles]

who is in control?

-five

growing up five knew that he has the most prodigious power amongst them. he can travel through space and time, and he can teleport. it is second nature to him, he just knows how to do these things without someone teaching him how to do any of it . he used his power too much, knew it well enough. knew how to do things that not anyone can do.he thinks he has the utmost control over his gift, thought that he knows his power like a worn out sneakers but in reality he does not have a single clue on how his power works. he dives into his power headfirst, and he just hope that it doesnt drown him everytime. he knows about space and time theories, spent hours poring over the quantum physics and learning how it applies into time and space. he knows how to do equations and how to apply it to his powers. but even with all of these at his disposal, he cant time travel properly because while he was learning these theories, he never stopped to take a seat and learn about his own powers. he was so caught up on these flashing numbers and huge diagrams and theories that he never really took the time to control himself, and as he applied his equations to his powers, he didnt account his control into the equations and that fucked him up.

-vanya

growing up, she thought that she was ordinary, never really thinking how her siblings' power really worked. and when it was brought to light that she has these powers too, she has been too old, kept in the dark for too long. she was never thought how to control this large amount of power coursing through her veins, all to her disposal. she never had to spend her childhood perfecting this craft of controlling this abnormal thing in her, never spent hours, days, months and years just concentrating on this power inside her. she never had to think about her action, never had to account her abilities in her every move. she never had to be wary on herself, she never had to stop herself from doing things that will end badly if she lost grip of her powers and she never learned how awfully hard it is to have these powers that normal people do not have. she wished that she is just like her siblings, all different and extraordinary and now that she has it, she isnt too sure on how to control them

-diego

growing up, diego spent a lit of time perfecting his craft. he spent years holed up in his practice room. spending hours each day infront of practice dummies, spent hours throwing knives into target boards, never stopping even as his arms hurt. he trained so hard, spent his youth with one goal, spent two decades of his life trying to defeat his brother. he revolved his life into one goal, practice his powers with defeating his brother in mind, spent years bulking up in an attempt to outlarge his brother, spent years perfecting his speech so that he can talk smoother than his brother. he knows that he has a good control over hinself, knew that his body is a result of his control. he knew that his power works because he had the control over them. but he never really tried doing things for himself, never tried to practice his powers with himself in his mind. never really explored what he can really do, he never tried to see if he can do more than just curving objects with his hand. he didnt step out of the line, never let himself get curious and he has the control over the powers he knew he has, but he doesnt have the control over the powers that he has failed to discover

-luther

growing up, he has way too much energy in his body. he ruined many doorknobs and glasses ever since he was a little boy. and as he grows up, he knew he has to reign himself under control, because he knows, deep down, that he can kill his brother if he grips too tight. luther is a lot of things, he is brash and an arrogant person but he is also determined. ever since he knew the fact thar he could bring harm to his siblings, he trained hours after hours so that he wont ever ruin anything that he touches. and he did it, he controlled himself. he had himself in this wonderful self control, managed to train himself until he got it right, trained until he can give hugs without breaking bones. but there is something that he failed to really control, and that is his temper. because of the fact that he spent his childhood controlling his powers that he never really had the chance to control his emotions

-allison

growing up, allison used her powers to her advantage. she grew up in a male dominated household, grew up in the house that treated women as less even if they dont really knew it. she had to work around these people who are unconsciously making life worse for her, grew up with these boys she loves with all of her heart being molded by her cold heartless father into these cold heartless boys. she knows how her power works, and she used it, spent hours hunched over her dictionaries and rumoring her brothers with overly specific rumors to make her life easier. she used her powers on her father too, using her words, twisting them up so that the house would finally be livable for a woman, and she know what she is doing. she had the control over her powers but she didnt have a control over herself. she cant control herself, cant make herself stop, cant stop using her powers that she had mastered and that ruined her

-klaus

growing up, klaus knew he could cause catastrophic things. he has these horrible monster following him whenever he goes, all this dreadful abominations never leaving his sight. knew that if he really tries, he can bring them forward. he can feel that power deep into him, knew that if he just unleash himself, he can call these monsters forth and have them wreck havoc. knew that if he really wants too, he can make this ghosts his bitch, make them do things on his command, he can rule the world of the undead, and that thought terriefies him. that scares him because he knows, deep down that he craves that kind of power. knew that he can get intoxicated in that type of superiority. but he controlled himself, he knew he has to have the absolute control over himself, knew that whatever happens, he must not let himself succumb to that power. he may have a control on himself but he didnt really have control over his instinct, knew that the moment those drugs managed to control the power that runs into his veins, he will never be able to stop himself from giving in, if only to keep his potentials locked away, hes not even sure of he want to control his destructive self anyways

-ben

growing up, ben hated himself. he grew up with this monsters residing in his tiny body, claiming it as their own. he never really like them, never really tried to like them. he was scared of them, shied away fron the feeling of them moving all over his body, their massive form stretching his tiny skin, wearimg them down years even before he reach his two digits. he hated the fact that he has to feed them, offer them live animals, watch as these creature kill innocent upon innocent upon innocent. he stood frozen as they kill without remorse. he thought he doesnt have any control over them, but he never really realized that he has the control over them. he never really knew that he controls them even as a child, never knew that the monster being restless is because he is restless. he never knew that if he didnt have any control over them, they wouldve devoured his siblings the moment he lost a grip unto them. he was so wrapped up around his fear that he never really tried to make them stop being that way. he never really sat and tried to relax. he had the control over them and he didnt know it, didnt know that as the monsters in his body ripped him apart, that he is the one controlling them, that he is the one tearing himself apart.

and maybe in another life, he would know that and he would become the boss of his demons and he will lose touch with the gentleness he once possessed, and he will just be a hallow husk for his father, just like his siblings.

[asoftervirge]

Of “Love” & Murder - (12/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Revenge, Like Chocolate, Can Be Both Bitter and Sweet

RATING: M PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: Remus Sanders, mentions of Satanic symbolism, Ted Bundy/Jeffrey Dahmer/serial killer references, Rocky Horror Picture Show reference, Poison, Swearing, mentions of Janus Sanders, referenced Smut, Smutty Thoughts, mentions of Sex Toys, Thanatophobia (fear of dying), mentions of Previous Deaths, various Methods of Murder, mentions of Violence, Descriptions of Murder, brief mention of Prison Rape, Dumpster Diving, Eating/Eating Gross Food, talks of Grey Morality, Morally Grey Patton, Baking/Food mentions CHAPTER SUMMARY: Patton meets with Remus.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here we are! We’re now at the second to last chapter! Despite the low reception of this fic, I’m very happy with it and it’s been so much fun posting it and seeing everyone’s reactions to it. Fun fact: I’m not real sure what rating this chapter would be under. Obviously it has mature stuff because of Remus, but it’s not too extreme to where no body can read it. It’s not a murder chapter, but he does talk about murder, so maybe it’s best to leave it M rated. lol Happy All Hallow’s Eve, everyone! Have fun reading! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me A Ko-Fi!

To say Patton was nervous was an extreme understatement.

He was pacing back and forth in an alleyway— the location where Remus wanted to meet— going between fiddling with the hem of his sweater, and twirling a stray curl of hair. Blue eyes frantically scanned the dingy place he was in, not wanting to suddenly be jumped by a dangerous stranger.

Brick walls were stained with something the confectioner didn’t want to know what. Droplets of water from the gutters above dropped down onto the cobblestone. Garbage cans were tipped over, rotting food and other things made the air smell putrid.

A black cat scurried from behind one and past his feet, meowing loudly.

Patton squeaked and flinched as it went by. After collecting himself, he started to fidget more.

He hoped Remus would be here soon. With every minute he was in this alley, he was growing more and more frightened.

Despite this, he tells himself that this is worth it.

For Roman.

For Logan.

For Dorian.

For himself.

In the midst of his self-panic and self-reassurances, Patton didn’t catch the sounds of the metal fence behind him being scaled upon.

“So, you’re Patton Hart, hmm?” A high-pitched, slightly screechy voice said.

Patton yelped and spun around, instantly being greeting with the sight of Remus.

The man looked completely different from Roman, it was almost hard to believe that they were brothers, let alone twins. While the former thespian was composed, elegant, and beautiful, Remus…was anything but.

He looked like a rebellious punk, to put it simply.

Remus’ hair was oily-looking, very unkempt and scrappy; dark brown, almost black in color with touches of green hair dye in it and a single streak of silver. He was clad in a leather biker vest, various patches decorating it, and a fishnet shirt underneath which displayed all of his bruises, cuts, and scabs. His pants almost reminded him of Virgil’s jeans: ripped yet his were baggy as opposed to tight-fitting. His ankle boots were spiked, decorated with an upside down cross and a symbol that looked to be very satanic.

As a matter of fact, all of his jewelry appeared to be just that: skulls and satanic symbols. They were predominantly pieces that littered his neck, but he was also studded with a lot of piercings: a labret plus a lip, multiple ear and eyebrow ones, a chained nose, and a belly button. And all of them were silver as opposed to the gold Roman used to wear.

Looking at him twice over, Remus seemed to be a combination of Roman, Remy, and Toby.

Patton quickly straightened himself up, not wanting the other man to see just how scared he was.

“And you must be Remus Duke,” he responded back. His voice shook a little as he spoke. “I have to say, and I hope you don’t think me rude, but you looking nothing like your brother.”

Remus snorts. “That’s a compliment.” He tells him. “I’d rather not be a goody-goody Abel like my brother was.” He looked Patton up and down, giving him a quirked expression, “Ain’t you a bit saccharine to get help from me? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for beddy-bye time?”

“No!” Patton yells stubbornly. He recoils and tries again. “I-I mean, no. I really, really need your help, Remus. This is the only way I can truly stop Virgil.”

“Ha ha! So you’re also Virgil’s newest boy toy!” Remus grinned manically. Patton squealed and shivered in disgust at that. “I swear he goes through boy toys faster than either Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer did with their victims. Well, not as fast, but—”

“C-Cut it out!” Patton shrieked, stomping his foot in childish anger. He grew sickened at the thought of a monstrous killer like Bundy or a twisted cannibal like Dahmer, and comparing Virgil to them just made it worse.

(It was in that moment when the confectioner remembered the words Dorian told him before he divulged into how he was murdered. While Virgil was a horrible individual, he was nothing like how those men were. They were all criminals, yes, but the widower was somehow of a lesser evil.)

Trying to relax his shoulders, Patton asked again. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Still grinning, Remus jumped off the fence and onto the cobblestone. It wasn’t pleasant sounding as he fell flat on his ass. But he appeared to be okay as he shot straight into the air and began fishing through his pockets, humming Touch-a , Touch-a, Touch-a Touch Me under his breath while he searched.

“Ha ha!” he exclaimed when he finally found what it was he was looking for. He pulled out a vial of sinister-looking liquid, skull and crossbones marked on the front of it.

Poison.

Cyanide, to be more specific.

“This should be the very thing that’ll fuck Virgy-poo up!” Remus exclaimed happily. Then he pouted. “Lucky bastard,” he mumbled. “Just put this in whatever it is you’re gonna give him and watch with glee as he chokes and dies! Ooh, that sounds fun! Can I come and watch too?!”

“No!”

Remus pouted more, actually looking sad.

Patton was about to walk over and grab the vial but Remus stopped him.

“Not so fast, Mr. Fluffy Butthole.” Patton scrunched his nose. A serious look was in Remus's emerald green eyes. “Why do I have the stinky feeling this is for more than just my brother?”

The confectioner reeled back. “…What?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten my number from Toby and call me by saying ‘how would you feel about helping me avenge your brother�� without wanting to do more.” Remus narrowed his gaze. “You wanna avenge Virgil’s other husbands too, don’t you? Spouses or whatever they were.”

Patton opened his mouth to try and say something, but all he could do was sigh and nod. “You’re right,” he finally tells him. “It’s for more than just your brother. It’s also for Virgil’s second spouse, Logan Oxford—”

“That author who seemed so stubborn xe had a stick up xyr butt? Man, xe needed to get laid.”

“…xe were asexual…”

“…Emotionally laid, then.”

“You mean having a loving, supportive relationship?”

Remus gagged. “Don’t be lewd!”

“Xe were also aromantic.”

“I could’ve helped with that!” Remus grinned. “But if xe were also asexual, then it would’ve been no dice. Hehe, dick ice, hehe!”

Patton ignored him and continued on from before. “— and his third, Dorian Cain—”

“Ah! The serpent-y lawyer whose tongue was for more than lying!” Remus grinned more. Since he was a little closer to him, Patton could see the yellow of his teeth. “I’ve heard that he and Virgil were a lot alike. Plus, they were really able to get” – he wriggled his hips – “it” – he started thrusting “on!”

The confectioner blinked, then sighed deeply and tiredly. How exactly was he Roman’s twin brother? (He could practically hear Roman sighing along with him).

“I was in cahoots with him, you know!” Remus tells him, still thrusting for some silly reason.

“So I’ve heard,” Patton tells him, not wanting to delve into details about the supernatural encounters he had. He didn’t need to give this guy the time of day. “They said you called him about wanting him to find evidence on Virgil, but he said no.”

“Yep!” Remus stopped mid-thrust and emphasized on the p. “He accused me of wanting to slander a celebrity, like everybody else did. But it was also because he didn’t want to put his own husband on trial or some other bullshit.”

He blinked then continued thrusting. “I wonder what would’ve happened if I got to him first?” he mumbled to himself in curiosity. He turned to Patton with a grin. “You think Virgil is great in bed? I would’ve given that lawyer the time of his life! We would’ve fuck for days and weeks on end using all the neat kinky toys I have! Plus, all the crazy flexible sex positions?!” He bobbed his head from side-to-side, singing. “Anyone Virgil could do, I could do better~!”

Apparently, Virgil did that and then some, Patton couldn’t help but think to himself, suddenly being reminded of how explicit Virgil and Dorian were. (If the lawyer were here, he’d probably be flattered and chuckle in his ear).

“But it’s more than them too!” the confectioner exclaims, continuing on from where he left off previously. “It’s for any other potential victim of Virgil’s…and me too…”

“Oh?!” This intrigued Remus as he now had Patton’s full attention. “How so?” He could see the confectioner tugging and fiddling with his sweater. Remus actually saw him doing this when he was stalking the alleyway. It must be a grounding mechanism for him or something, kind of like how he plays with his fingers.

“Because—because I’m scared of dying.”

Remus blinked. “You are?”

“Yes— Of course, I am!” Patton didn’t know why the other man was acting like dying isn’t something to be feared. Because, to him, especially in this circumstance, it was. “If I don’t do anything to stop Virgil, I’m scared I’m gonna die. And I don’t wanna die.”

Tears came to his eyes, he rubbed them away with a fist.

“I don’t want to end up like the others. I don’t want a ribbon around my neck, or arsenic in my belly, or a bullet in my head. I don’t want to have my life cut short by someone who might actually want me dead!”

Now he had both fists rubbing harshly at his cheeks. “There’s so much of my life I want to live. There was so much of their lives that they had yet to live. And I want to be able to avenge that…I want my friends, and even you, to be at ease knowing they finally found peace.”

Remus watched awkwardly as Patton cried in front of him. He wasn’t all that good with the emotional, cutesy, kind-wordsy stuff like his brother was. But if Roman was in this situation, he would know what to do better than anyone else.

He knew the moments when his brother would need a hug, and this would be one of them.

So, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Patton, letting him sob into his shoulder.

Patton curled further into him, not caring that he smelled of body odor and garlic.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay. It’ll all be a-okay.”

The confectioner sniffled. “How do you know that?” he asked, voice thick with emotion.

“Because that mean, nasty Virgil’s gonna get what’s coming to him!” Remus tells him. He takes Patton’s tear-stained glasses and licked them clean. He then walked over to a garbage can and fished out a dirty napkin to wipe them with. “Here you go!”

Patton grimaced as he put his… ‘newly cleaned’ glasses back on.

“Even if Roman didn’t like me all that much, he was one of my favorite people,” Remus continues. “And I was incredibly upset when he was killed, or ‘committed suicide,’ as the police suspected.” He narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to bring Virgil to court, I really did, but there was no evidence left at the crime scene.”

Remus snarled; fists clenched together tightly. “When they told me that…I was thinking of contemplating murder myself.” He shook his head. “There were so many things I wanted to do to him.” He began counting on his fingers, “Disembowel him, let my pet rats feed on his body, flood my teeth with his spine, build a sandcastle out of his ashes. You name it, I wanted to do it.”

Patton got visibly sickened with each possible method of murder and violence.

“And yet I couldn’t do anything. I may be a wildcard, but Virgil is much more cunning. He’s slipperier than a bar of prison soap.” Patton dared not ask what he meant by that. “Plus, he might’ve expected that I would come and destroy him when I got the chance. So, there wasn’t anything I could do.”

“But you tried though,” the confectioner says. “Despite there not being evidence, you still went and contacted Dorian Cain to try and see what would happen.”

Remus nodded. “Well, yeah. I figured I might as well eat the bullet and chew until I’m forced to spit it out. And so, I called Dorian’s law firm and asked anyway. Even though I was told ‘no,’ something deep within my dick told me that he might try and do something in secret. When I saw in the papers that he had also killed himself, I thought my chances were ruined for good.”

“However,” he then held out the vial of poison for Patton to take. He could see just how dirty his fingers were: bruised, chewed-up fingernails, chipped black and green nail polish, and grime around the cuticles. “You can be the one to finish him off. Do what me and Dorian couldn’t, and put that murdering piece of shit in the ground where he belongs.”

At first, Patton seemed hesitant about taking it from him, but after everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s heard, everything he’s feared, his resolve was hardened.

He takes the vial and stuffs it in his pocket.

Standing closer to Remus, he can see the details he couldn’t see from afar: flakes of dandruff in his hair; messy, purple, smoky eyeshadow; black lipstick that was slightly smeared; a little bit of stubble growing above his lip; along with any other cuts, bruises, and scabs on his skin.

Not only that, he could see the various patches on his biker vest; only a small handful of them were satanic and anarchist symbols, while the rest were a mixture of things Remus must enjoy. A green sword with tentacles coming from it, a Morningstar, an anatomical heart, a bloodshot eyeball, a skeleton, a peach, a couple octopi and krakens, an alien, a peach, a hazardous symbol, some that involve cursing and parental advisory, some dark Disney ones, an opossum with he/him pronouns, the aromantic flag, and lastly, one that has ‘Duke’ on it in graffiti.

Despite his appearance, Patton might consider this gross man…not so much a friend, but an ally.

“…Remus?” Said man leans in closer, making Patton bend back. “…Thank you. Truly. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without your help.”

He waved nonchalantly. “Eh, don’t worry about it,” he tells him. He walks over to one of the garbage cans and starts rummaging through it once more. “It’s the least I can do. Being an assistant— heh, ass-istant— is better than being forced to sit back and do nothing.” He pulls out a rotting banana, unpeeling it and then taking a bit bite out of it.

Patton looked like he was going to throw up.

Mid-chew, he looked back at the confectioner. “You know,” he mumbled, browning banana flying out of his mouth. “For someone who looks all pure and morally righteous, you gotta little bit of grey in ya.”

“I’m only doing this for good.”

“Maybe,” Remus gulps loudly then takes another huge bite. “But you’re still planning on killing him. No matter how you justify it, redrum is redrum.”

“Redrum?”

“Murder. The Shining. Stephen King.”

Patton hummed.

“Seriously though, who am I to talk morals schmorals to you? Good and bad is all made up nonsense!” Another loud gulp, another big bite. “So! When are you gonna do the do?”

“You mean do the deed?”

“Same thing!”

“Tomorrow.”

“Ooh! On Halloween night too!” Remus grinned excitedly. Patton had honestly forgotten that it would be Halloween, having been so preoccupied with everything has was going on at 613 Rue Morgue. “Are you suuure I can’t come with you?”

“I’m sure, Remus. Thank you.”

Remus pouts again, but he quickly shrugged it off.

“Ah well,” he drops the banana peel at his feet. Litter bug. He started to scale up the fence, allowing Patton to see the large green kraken that covered his back. “I guess I’ll leave the rest to you. Good luck, Patton!”

With a gleeful wave, Remus jumps over and disappears into the shadows from whence he came.

Patton stays in his spot for the longest time.

Maybe…he was a bit grayer than he realized. Through his entire life, he was never really challenged on his morals. He always played by the rules and laws of life, not wanting to face the punishments for having done something wrong.

But now, he was.

He was faced with someone who had a complete disregard for them and is walking a free man with three murders (maybe even more) stained on his hands.

And here he was, wanting to change all of that.

Like he said to Remus, it was for a good cause: to have their spirits be appeased and to have Virgil never commit any heinous crimes ever again. Even if the solution was a permanent one.

Maybe…the other man was right. Maybe…good and bad really is made up nonsense.

With the thoughts of his newly-placed morals in his head, Patton finally left the alleyway.

The alleyway that Remus chose was in the lower part of town, the shadier and troublemaking part to be specific. And even though Patton could have chosen to take his car, he walked since he lived close by in the lower regions of downtown.

It was a long but much needed walk for the confectioner to take.

While the air proved to be chilly, the autumn leaves dropped down onto the ground, creating a little ombre of colors on the sidewalk. The night sky was a trifecta of rich purples, deep blues, and cool blacks. Dots of white twinkled above, making the picturesque scene complete.

Patton looked around at all the holiday decorations that were on display. All of the ghosts, witches, scarecrows, and grim reapers all gave him a bit of a fright. The fake tombstones and giant rope spider webs made him squeak and turn his head for a split second. But he smiled at seeing the differently carved jack-o-lanterns— some more intricate than others— and the outdoor lights that glowed in various colors, like orange, purple, green, blue, red, white, and black. Though what really got a giggle out of him, were the inflatables that stood on each lawn; some were of pumpkins, others were black cats, and was the occasional spooky tree.

Many people love going all out on Halloween, and the confectioner was one of them, having spent so many hours throughout September and October transforming the interior of his shop.

He continued walking into downtown, fog hovering over the street lamps as the air grew a little denser and colder. The streets were slightly bustling as people were walking to and from various stores, all in last-minute preparation for tomorrow night. Many of them were families, with children bouncing up and down excitedly about their costumes while the parents held bags that were presumably filled with candy and other goodies.

It all made Patton smile, for he had that same childish whimsy.

The confectioner didn’t stop walking until he came to a very familiar brown building, the words Patty’s Sweet Confectionaries swirled in fancy but readable font on the window.

Patton took a minute to gently trace his fingers across the white lettering. He still remembers the first day he opened its doors, a young and bright-eyed man who simply wanted to spread the sugary joy that his grandmother used to give him.

With a deep breath, he walked into his confectionery shop, the jingle of the bell above the door made his heart swell up a little. Once inside, he gazed around, nostalgia and melancholy shone in his eyes as he flipped on the lights.

Golden chandeliers glowed from the cream-colored ceiling as the shop became illuminated, presenting the changes that Patton had made. The only other things that remained the same were the dark brown and white tile, and the wooden stands and tables dressed with dishes and bowls, but what filled them had changed since September.

Eyeball-shaped white chocolate truffles, and ghostly popcorn balls were now the specialty treats for the holiday; along with cookies in the shape of skeletons, and white chocolate bark with candy corn. In the display case were still the traditional chocolates, but there were also pumpkin spiced cakes and cupcakes, along with macaroons of varying monstrous design and Frankenstein cereal treats.

However, the two favorites were front and center: gooey marshmallow, and glistening candy apples. The best part about them? The marshmallow is dyed in accordance to the holiday, and the candy apples were also coated with white icing to make it look like Snow White’s poisoned one from the Disney movie.

Walking in further, he plugged in the decorative lights that hung from the walls. The miniature pumpkin luminary bags added another layer of festive spirit to the store, and they paired nicely with the cutout garlands Patton had made some-years back.

The confectioner tenses up as he feels vial of poison roll into his hands from inside his pocket.

A part of him still feels conflicted about doing something like this.

Obviously he knows what Virgil did was horrible and wrong, but on the other hand, he wished there was a much simpler way to see his downfall come to fruition. But as Remy and Toby said, if the police were working with him, then it was impossible to see lawful justice be served to him. (Dorian tried it, and look what happened.)

So this was the only option he had left.

Resolve slowly hardening, Patton made his way to the kitchen to begin work.

He began pulling out giant mixing bowls— both silver and copper, measuring cups, double boilers, spoons and forks, and a plethora of ingredients in order to create the perfect box of poisonous chocolates.

Patton didn’t need to think about which ones he would give to the widower, he knew the recipes for each one by memory.

The first recipe read:
 “1 lb of dark chocolate 16 maraschino cherries with the stem 3 tablespoons softened butter 3 tablespoons light corn syrup 2 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar”

Parts of the second read:
 “2/3 cups dark chocolate chips 1/3 cup + 2 tablespoons of heavy cream A dash of cinnamon”

The third read:
 “7 oz. finely chopped dark chocolate 1/3 cup espresso ½ tablespoons unsalted butter ½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder”

And finally, the fourth read: 
“1 cup melted cocoa butter 1 tablespoon cocoa powder 3 tablespoon dark chocolate ½ teaspoon almond extract”

Within each recipe, he made sure to add the cyanide poisoning into the mixtures, adding a bit more than necessary so that it wouldn’t be masked by any of the other ingredients. (He wore protective gear, of course. The same mask and gloves he wore whenever he dabbled in making anything featuring liquid nitrogen.)

Hours later, he had batches cooling on racks and baking sheets. And after checking that he had a perfect set of thirty-two, he began the decorating process. Glazes, icings, and sugars scattered about in the air and dusted his face, hair, and fingers.

Once everything was done up all nice and pretty, Patton placed them all in a box: a black one topped with a bow of dark violet ribbon.

Patton stood back and observed his craftsmanship. A deep frown slowly made its way to his face.

The first part of the deed was done…

…now? It was time for Virgil to have a taste of his own chocolatey medicine.

[lovesickjoon]

bad religion - jjk (m)

pairing: jungkook/reader

rating: NSFW (18+)

genre: SMUT, hunter!reader au, kingofhell!jungkook (yes this was highkey inspired by spn)

words: 6.7k

desc.: it was a bad religion to fall for someone who could never love you. but, thankfully you hadn't fallen yet. and who knows? maybe he could learn how to love. or namjoon, your dumbass witchy friend ends up possessed by a demon. on halloween night, you make a deal with the devil to try and get him back.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral, dom!jungkook, tiny bit of breathplay, possessive jungkook, probably forgetting something

notes: im sick so this is super unedited! also this is my p late submission for the BTS Smut Club Halloween Smut Fest: Prompt #77 “You can’t sell me your soul, when you don’t have one to begin with.”

The warmth of Summer was long gone. The air felt sticky, despite the chilly breeze. The moon was abnormally bright, casting a silver glow upon the Earth. It was unsettling, being able to only see the moon, and not a single star. The inky clouds that occasionally floated in front of the hanging, luminous pearl, never once caused it to dim. Your stomach churns and twists in protests. Your subconscious continuously beckoned to you, begging for you to turn back. It had been a long drive to find the secluded crossroads, and it was too late to turn back.

You had parked your car several blocks away and were now on foot. Driving this far into the countryside was new to you. Hopefully, you wouldn't have to drive this far here again. It never failed, Namjoon always managed to fuck something up.

There wasn't a shred of doubt in your mind. You knew this would work. It had taken hours of relentless searching to find the proper incantation. You had to dig through the witch's files for days before you found anything remotely close to what you needed.

Witchcraft was something you had promised yourself to avoid messing with. You always left it to Namjoon. You did the stabbing and he did the casting. You were on your own, and you were the only person willing to help your poor fuck up of a best friend.

You glanced around the road, eyeing the sides carefully. You gathered several decent sized rocks. You dropped the bag cautiously onto the dirt and kneeled. You adjusted each rock until they formed a somewhat circular shape. You drew each ingredient out of your bag and placed them in the middle of the circle, one by one. You grabbed a pebble and used it to sketch out the sigil into the dirt. You had to sketch delicately around the rock formation, the last thing you wanted was to mess up the ceremony.

Next, you brought out six onyx colored candles. You pulled the lighter from your jacket, the dirt crunching beneath your weight as you moved. The flame flickered to life, nearly fading out because of the howling wind. You lit the first candle, using your body to block the wind. The candles were specifically created for summoning. They endlessly burn, and are entirely unaffected by nature, unlike your lighter. You returned the lighter back to its place and used the one candle you had burning to light the others.

Next was the picture of you.

You pricked yourself with the needle, squeezing and massaging your finger to try and make the blood flow out easier. The drop landed directly onto the picture of you, and you felt more queasy than ever.

You cleared your throat, staring down at the dancing flames of the candles. The energy is already coursing through the pages, waiting to be unleashed. You can feel it humming through the thick leather. A shaky sigh escapes you when you tightly grasp the book and yank it from the confines of your bag. The book practically leaps into your arms and flings itself open. It violently splits open, the pages hastily whirl by on their own. It was as if the book had a mind of its own.

It seemed... eager... to be used.

The howling wind and the tossing of the grass seemed to still when the first words parted from your lips. You inhaled deeply, trying to focus. The words were familiar, you had repeated them to yourself for hours on end, trying to learn the spell. Though you spoke in broken Latin, you knew the words were transmitting. The text began to glow, and the book grew hotter with each sentence you finished.

The ground began to rumble, and you knew the creature was being torn from its throne. Your throat tightened, and you felt tears begin to poke from the corners of your eyes. It was so much worse being the individual to actually summon a demon. Rarely, when you were observing Namjoon complete a ritual, did you get sick. You always knew that, watching Namjoon get sick. You never realized entirely how sickening the process really was though. It was draining, mentally and physically. It felt as if you were right on the brink of death.

You choked out the last word and threw the book from your hands. The feeling of your skin sizzling and melting away made you hiss. You grabbed your arm, desperate to stop the pain. The book was entirely illuminated, glowing painfully bright. You wrench your eyes closed, the wind was roaring now, and you were convinced the entire planet was rocking back and forth.

Then it was calm.

The book dimmed, the candles simultaneously blew out, and the wind blew away the sketch in the dirt. Your picture was entirely singed, along with the ingredients. The rocks had sunk into the ground at some point during the ritual. The only thing that was left was burnt ashes. More importantly, your skin hadn't dissolved away. You stand and dust yourself off. You glance around, expecting to see someone standing around, watching you with curiosity.

You contemplated leaving, going and finding a place where you could have a couple of drinks... Or maybe a nest full of vamps you could stake.

Anything to get your mind off of this.

You pluck up the book and your bag. Everything felt different, but not in ways that you could name. It was such a slight shift in the atmosphere it was almost unnoticeable. For a fleeting moment, you worried if you had pronounced something wrong and unleashed something terrible out into the world.

You waited.

Unlike the person you were summoning, you were not immortal. You couldn't sit here and stare blankly at the sky until he showed up. At this rate, you were going to die before he arrived.

You persisted anyway.

You were determined to fix Namjoon's mess, even though he was the one to dig his own grave. You stood there like the ugly girl at prom, waiting for the guy who promised to be her date to show up.

"Sorry, I was running late. It's not often someone calls me directly from my throne."

You twirl around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try and turn. Features scrunching up in confusion, you examine the man head to toe. How the fuck had you managed to summon an angel? The dark, doe eyes twinkle in amusement, and he grins.

"What? Were you expecting my horns to be larger? I didn't want to frighten you, delicate mortal."

You froze, and your heart lurched. It was finally settling in. You had just summoned the fucking King of Hell. His tall, lean figure didn't intimidate you. Not in the slightest. If it wasn't for the horns and the occasional shifting of his eye color, he could pass as someone your age. In no way, shape, or form did he appear to even be an ancient demon. The power, raw and unadulterated, radiating off of him was the off-putting part. The demon glanced towards the ashes, eyeing them carefully. He reaches towards the ashes and pinches a bit of the ash between his fingers.

He blows the dust from his fingers and raises his eyebrows. "A deal?" he asks. He eyes you suspiciously and wipes away the smear of ash off. "You waited specifically until Hallows' Eve to do this. Didn't you?"

As if you were a video, someone had taken the remote and stopped you from moving or speaking. You were on pause. You didn't know how to answer, should you lie? Should you tell the truth? The demon takes a step towards you, coming closer than you were comfortable with. You catch a glimpse of red in his eyes, and then it's gone.

He smirks, "I see. You purposely waited, just to summon little old me. This must not be a regular deal then. Oh. Don't bother trying to lie to me, because it obviously won't work."

You mentally give yourself a good shake and try to focus on your objective. You could probably knife this bastard just as easily as any other demon.

He rolls his eyes, "Mortals, all of you are so feeble-minded. Tell me, what is it you want? True love? Fortune? An extra cup size? Go ahead, sweetheart. This is always the busiest night in Hell."

"I want you to stop whichever one of your little minions it is from wearing my best friend. I only want him sane, completely alive, and back where he belongs," you hiss.

The worst thing is having someone incredibly powerful laughing directly in your face.

Which is exactly what he did. The King cackles until he doubles over, appearing to be in pain from laughing so hard. You internally cringe, and the repulsive feeling returns to your gut. He really found you.. amusing. You were concerned about the well being of your friend. Yet, this asshole was laughing.

You have to really resist the urge to whip your knife from your side and gank him right then and there.

"Not a problem, sweetheart," he raises his head, the grin still on his lips. He circles around you like a vulture, inspecting every inch of you. "Before we talk payment... Tell me, how did he end up as a vessel for a demon of mine?"

Truth be told, you weren't entirely sure. Namjoon wouldn't let some demon merely hop in his body and take it for a ride. Also, he hated messing with demons in the first place. You had kind of came to the conclusion that he had somehow been tricked, or forced. The last time you barged into his house, he had black eyes and threw you against a wall with simply a wave of his hand. He didn't answer a single question and only rummaged through his files. Maybe the demons wanted information? There was no way for you to be entirely sure.

He hums almost inaudibly, seemingly thinking. He had read your thoughts again.

"Have you considered the idea that maybe your friend wanted to be a vessel?"

Before he even finished the sentence, you were already shaking your head. "Why? Why would he want to ride backseat while someone else controls his body? That doesn't make sense."

He crosses his arms and shrugs. "How will you pay me?" his tone lowers, and he stops in front of you once more. You hold your breath as he nears you again. From this angle, you can see that innocent glimmer even better.

You frown, "Well, my soul. That's usually the price, correct?"

"Indeed," he hums. "But you can't sell me your soul when you don't have one, to begin with."

The metal jewelry glinted just enough to catch your attention. You focus your attention on the silver adorning his wrist, mulling over his words. You never played around with this kind of thing. Unless someone appeared in the middle of the night and siphoned it from you, he was lying. It wouldn't surprise you in the slightest if he really was lying. He was the King of Hell, and lying was what he did best. He tilts his head to the side, pouting.

"You don't believe me?" He asks.

He sighs and then the pout drops from his features. "The names Jungkook, by the way. Constantly referring to me as the King gets annoying after a while," he snorts.

You go silent, unsure of what to do, or what to believe. You were already low on cash, so you definitely weren't going to be able to give him a regular payment. Besides, a part in the back of your mind knew he wouldn't want it anyway. "How am I alive if I don't have a soul? How did I lose my soul?" you demand. Surprise flashes across his features, and it vanishes as quickly as it arrived.

"You think it's a big contract, just like every other mortal on Earth, don't you?" He asks in a mocking manner. "Technically, yes. You can lose your soul due to a big contract, similar to a contract that would be made here."

He pauses and steps away. He places his hand underneath his chin, trying to formulate a better way to explain his thoughts.

"It's a series of little agreements and every little fuck up counts. As for the how you're alive part, you can live a perfectly normal life even if your soul is gone. You're not unique, you're just the same as any other regular mortal. Until you die, that is. Then you're destined to fall straight into the pit."

You reflect on the haunting words, trying to think of every single thing you had done wrong. The list was honestly quite long at this point. You had done several horrible things in the past, trying to save your own ass from the fire. Only to learn that you were destined to fall right into it anyway. You never harmed animals, you never hurt anyone that didn't deserve to be hurt. You thought you were doing the moral thing.

"The devil has a thousand faces, sweetheart. Sorry to break the news this way," he mutters, not looking sorry in the slightest.

"If that's the case, then how do any souls get sold at all?"

The corner of his mouth twists in irritation. He clearly didn't appreciate the number of questions you had for him.

"Not everyone fucks up as easily as you have. Some souls simply are worth more than others, but most others just make fewer mistakes. Even if their essence is close to being fully corrupted, we usually will accept it. That is... if the deal is over something minor. You though, you're asking me to bother one of my own, and there's pretty much nothing to gain from you. No profit."

"Pathetic," he sneers condescendingly. "It's been years since I've seen a mortal completely corrupt themselves all on their own. You're lucky, though. I'm willing to fetch your little friend if you're willing to pay a different price."

Jungkook takes a confident stride towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back and start sprinting in the other direction. Jungkook cupped your face, gently brushing his thumbs against your cheekbones. Your cheeks scorched with embarrassment. Your mind clouded, and it became hard to think with him so near. Your face feels frozen, but burns where he caresses you gently. It took a moment before you could form a coherent thought.

"What's the price?" you ask, your stomach in knots.

He grins, "I get to fuck you. Since I've laid eyes on you, I've had an overwhelming desire to pin you down and whisper the filthiest things into your ear. I want to hear you whine and whimper until the pleasure becomes too much for you to handle. I think that's a fair deal, don't you?"

You felt lightheaded. The slightest breeze could come along and tip you over with ease. "Right now?" you murmur,  voice failing you. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog surrounding your mind and vision.

"No, Y/N. I will come to collect my payment soon."

You want to ask how he knows your name, but you figure it's a demon thing. Besides, you probably couldn't force the words out of your mouth at the moment anyway. His fingers remain on your face, and he didn't break eye contact. He was probably doing this on purpose, trying to lure you into a contract. Too bad for him, he was only wasting his energy. You were going to say yes either way. It was the eye contact, or scent, or.. something! It was him, he was the culprit making you feel this way.

"Yes," you spit out, finding it to be a struggle to make your voice go louder than a whisper.

The urge to throw yourself in his arms and let him care for you for the rest of eternity burns strongly inside of you, but you suppress it. It was his energy, you didn't even know him or anything about him. He presses his body into you eagerly, lips closing in on yours. His figure was so much warmer, compared to your mortal frame. It was thrilling, but terrifying considering you were so close to something that could easily snap you in two. Warmth spreads from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

There was a swirl of indescribable emotions in your chest when the two of you broke apart. The kiss didn't last near as long as you wished it had. He stepped away from you, and you knew the deal was sealed.

He turns on his heel and marches away. The fog dissipates, the more distance there is between the two of you. There's another strange warmth, and it's creeping it's way up your arm. You roll up your sleeve with slightly cloudy vision, searching for the cause of the feeling. Right below the bend of your elbow is a mark. It materializes into a branded mark, and the symbol is easily recognizable. It's the sigil you drew to summon him. He had stuck a claim on you.

Your head darts up when you hear a violent cough. On the ground, a few feet away from you, is Namjoon. The sigil etched into your skin and every thought of Jungkook disappeared from your mind.

It had been a week since that night, and Namjoon was still pissed. He wouldn't admit it, but his actions spoke volumes. There had been no sign of Jungkook, leaving you regularly on edge. The mark scorched into your skin was obnoxious. At night, you would wake up, convinced someone had put your arm in a boiling pot of water.

"What's next?" Namjoon asked, reaching for one of the flasks on the bottom shelf. He shifts the basket on his arm and starts to stroll along again. You followed behind Namjoon like a lost puppy. "Oil of Abramelin," you responded, eyeing the list carefully.

When Namjoon didn't acknowledge you, you tried to pry once more.

"You can get that here?"

Namjoon kept his back turned to you, but you knew he was rolling his eyes. The building was like a maze, and the fluorescent lights above probably gave away every skin imperfection you had. There was a moment of silence, and then Namjoon sighed. "Humans who want to meddle in the dark arts can't buy anything here."

You frowned, definitely still pissed. You bite your lip, wanting to make a snide remark back, but also not wanting to see a Namjoon meltdown in public. Everything in the store seemed antique. Each item seemed crammed onto the shelf rather than place artistically. The painted text on the aisle directory signs was peeling away.  

Only chunks of words were recognizable, but it didn't help in the slightest. All of the products appeared to be scattered throughout the store carelessly. So, the signs wouldn't have been much help regardless.

Namjoon led you further into the shop, and you could tell the rear of this place rarely was used. Dust had gathered on pretty much every surface available. Even the spiders had abandoned the back of the shop. Their silk webs were now another collector of dust and pollen. Namjoon ignored the cobwebs, plucking thing randomly off of the shelves as he passed them.

"Next?" Namjoon asked, stopping abruptly. You fling your arms out in front of you, trying to avoid crashing into him. You stabilize and fumble with the list.

"Fulgurite," you read, squinting at the word in confusion. "Whatever that is."

Before Namjoon could completely twist around again, you lightly hooked your fingers into the back of his shirt. He studied you with a puzzled expression, "What?"

Feeling awkward, you release his shirt and let your hand drop to your side. "How many times have I apologized already?"

The question comes off slightly harsh, although you don't intend for it to sound that way. You didn't care though, Namjoon would be way too willing to hold this grudge against you for as long as he could. Namjoon glanced around as if he was expecting to see other customers nearby. It's deserted except for the ancient cashier. She was most likely hard of hearing anyhow.

"We've already been through this," he retorted, dropping his voice low.

"Yeah, but-"

You swallowed, trying to force the words to come out of your throat. It became hard to make out the details of the room, and the features of Namjoon. A wave of heat coursed through your veins, starting with the mark. Your ears popped, and the deep voice calling your name went muffled. Through blurred vision, you could see Joon wave his hand in front of your face. Nothing you did stopped the warmth rising in your chest. You buckle over, and you feel cool hands grab you by your shoulders. Namjoon does his best to guide you to the floor as safely as possible.

Then Namjoon's soothing hands disappear. You're drifting. There's no floor underneath you, nothing you can grab onto, and the weight of your clothes is missing. The fear, the worry, it has departed too. You feel abnormally calm, despite what had just happened. You unclench your eyes, startled to see an unfamiliar sky above you. You raised yourself from the bed, breath hitching in your throat.

Jungkook sat, perched right beside you on the bed. His mouth erupts into a sinister grin, and he greets you. "Welcome to Hell."

You were in a room, not outside, you concluded. The ceiling above resembled a night sky. There was something about the way the lights twinkled that made you feel as if it wasn't real. After a few more moments of gazing at the faux sky, your eyes drifted to Jungkook. Jungkook, the reality you didn't want to face. "Hello," you murmur, almost inaudibly.

"You don't sound very happy to see me," he remarks.

Namjoon comes to mind, you envision him on his knees in the shop. He was probably baffled by how you managed to vanish right from his arms. You had absolutely no reason to be happy to see Jungkook. Jungkook shifting on the bed catches your attention. He smirks and crosses his arms, "Oh, I see. You're upset because I interrupted the fight between you and your little boy-toy."

You scoffed, "Namjoon's like a brother to me, it's not like that. Besides, he's obviously not interested, and neither am I."

"Oh, Y/N..." he trails off, shaking his head. At some point, Jungkook had moved closer to you. He snakes his fingers up your arm and to the bend of your elbow. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment you can't breathe. Jungkook brushes his thumb over the mark, and you swear little sparks shoot up your arm. "How does Namjoon feel about you selling your body to me?"

You lower your eyes, and the deafening silence answers the question. Jungkook tilts your chin up, so you are no longer looking away from him. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

He already knew the answer, but he wanted you to confirm it. You hesitantly shook your head, "Not what I sold."

The arm he was tracing over the mark with slipped itself around your waist. The grip around your waist tightened, and you could feel Jungkook's energy shift. "Y/N, if you genuinely don't want to do this, I won't force you. Tell me now, though, and I'll leave you alone."

You disregarded the sound of your heart beating tensely, trying to think through this carefully. Jungkook called to you softly, "Y/N, I hope you realize I am a very selfish and greedy person. This can be a one-time thing, or we can do it often. Know that I have no plans to share you with someone else though."

This was your chance to say no. From past experiences, you knew you were prone to desiring a relationship, craving the romantic things. Casual sex in the past never really stayed that for you. He could never love you back if you were to fall for him. Yes, Jungkook had the decency to ask you if you wanted this or not. That didn't mean he knew how to love another.

The easy solution was just to say no. Why would you take that route though? You could decide later if you were going to take a gamble at doing this again... For now, you were not going to miss this opportunity. Overcome with desire, you breathe out a faint 'yes.'

Jungkook dipped his head down and kissed you deeply. Your eyes fell closed, and all you could feel was warmth. The warmth of his mouth on yours, the heat from the mark, and the warmth of just his very being. The intoxication that Jungkook had brought upon you last time returned. There wasn't a doubt about it, the King of Hell already had you wrapped around his finger.

You whimper when Jungkook pushes your lips apart with his tongue. He explored your mouth with the intent to claim. He was conveying his message from earlier to you again, he was not going to be willing to share your body with another. Every inch of you was now his.

He broke the kiss, allowing you to catch your breath. Jungkook went for your jaw, sloppily trailing kisses down to your neck. It took a few moments before you realized Jungkook was simultaneously pushing you down onto the bed while marking your neck. He removed himself from your neck with a frustrated growl. Jungkook raised his hand, and the tip of his finger began to glow. With a single touch to your shirt, the material crumbled and dissolved into thin air.

You gasped, shocked by the sudden actions. Jungkook didn't merely stop at your shirt. He proceeded until you were completely exposed and on display for him. His palm found your breast, his fingers massaging it in a way that had your core throbbing. The wet heat between your thighs was growing more and more with each action. He reached for your nipple, gently tugging and rubbing it between his fingertips. This provokes a whine out of you, and he hums contently. His concentration turned to the other breast, and he repeated the same steps.

"You're so fucking pretty," Jungkook uttered, nipping at your sensitive chest once more.  The kisses return, but this time, they're much more rushed. His attention trails lower, down past your ribs and all the way to your thighs. Jungkook parts your legs and moves between them. He resumes his path of kisses, now that your legs are parted.

Although you should expect it, you don't. A sharp moan rips itself from your throat when Jungkook finds your clit. He takes the tender nub into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it in different patterns. You withered underneath his touch, panting wildly. This feeling was so much different compared to your previous partner's attempts. Jungkook had a skilled, very well practiced tongue. He undoubtedly knew what he was doing. Jungkook brings his hands to your hips, striving to still your trembling form.

Jungkook licks a stripe up your slit, and you mindlessly let your hand drift to his hair. You wind your fingers into his hair, and the angle he looks up at you from exposes his glistening forehead. His furrowed eyebrows and the look of concentration on his face made you ecstatic. "Does this feel good, baby?"

"F-Fuck, yes," you whimpered. A squeak escaped you when Jungkook slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly starts to work you open. Your fingers tightened in Jungkook's hair, causing him to groan. He dipped another finger into your wet heat, producing a loud noise from you. You do your best to silence your cries, but with such a cloudy mind, it's a struggle.

Jungkook seems to sense that you're holding back, so he doubles his efforts. "Such a tight little slut, you're taking my fingers so well," he smirks, knowing damn well what his words do to you. He sinks his fingers in and out of you repeatedly, working them faster than before.  "...I can't wait to see how you take my cock."

Not being able to hold back any longer, you let your hips roll to meet the thrusts of his fingers. You were so slick and soaked, at this point there was no way the sheets weren't tainted. Jungkook went back to lapping at your clit, slamming his fingers in and curling them. Your back arched from the bed, sharp pleasure shooting up your spine. Jungkook had hit the sweet spot inside of you, but your brain was so muddled it took you a moment to figure out what he was doing.

His tongue circling and twirling around your sensitive clit grew faster. Jungkook added a third finger, making sure you were nice and fucked out for him. It was beginning to be too much, you didn't know how much longer you could last. You try to cry out Jungkook's name, try to warn him your about to tip over the edge, but you can't. It's too late. You clenched around his fingers, rolling your hips and wailing out his name.

He helps you ride out your orgasm, before drawing himself away from your soaked core. You expected the fogginess to lessen, instead of growing worse. You struggle, trying to scramble upwards. You're so, so tired, but you're dying to continue.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook queries, confusion written all over his features.

"Returning the favor-"

Jungkook puts a hand in front of you, motioning for you to slow down. He stands, letting his clothes disintegrate and disappear. He shakes his head, "You don't seem to understand who makes the decisions around here, but okay. You want me? You'll get me."

You peel yourself from the bed and drop to your knees obediently. Your face was perfectly level to Jungkook's long, throbbing cock. It was standing proudly, a thick vein wrapped from the top to the underside. The way Jungkook was glaring down at you had you feeling eager and more submissive than ever.  You scooted closer, opening your mouth for him. "Good girl," he hums.  

He slid himself over your lips a couple of times in a teasing manner. After a few moments, he finally pushes himself into your mouth. He moved slowly, not stopping until he hit the back of your throat.

You linked your hands behind your back, letting Jungkook have full control of the pace. His fingers met the back of your head, guiding you up and down his length.

"You little slut, you've had plenty of practice, hm? You're taking me pretty well," he grunted, drawing himself out of you until his head was back at your lips. You ignored the ache in your knees, knowing damn well you were going to have a horrible carpet burn later.  Jungkook hisses in pleasure, "Is this how you tainted your soul? By sucking as many dicks as you could so you could become a pro?"

The words made your insides burn once more, just when you thought you were sated.

You were anxious to please, so you hollowed your cheeks against him. You went to bob your head, but Jungkook held you still. You gazed up and met his eyes, causing him to groan. A thick band of sweat was developing on his forehead. His hair was beginning to stick to his forehead. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on breathing. You hear him murmur something along the lines of, 'fucking gorgeous.' You can't make out the rest of the sentence, too concentrated on controlling your breath.

Your throat tightened around him, and for the first time in the session, you gagged. Jungkook yanked you off of him, and you gasped for air. You opened your mouth again, despite your aching jaw. He slid into your mouth with ease, meeting the back of your throat again. This time he was rougher, thrusting quicker and quicker. You knew he was getting close, and he did too. He gave a few more thrusts and then slipped out from between your lips.

You craved Jungkook more than ever now. Lust surged in you, loins stirring. His tone and his harsh words triggered something inside of you that you didn't really understand.  Without speaking, you knew what Jungkook craved from you. You rose and crawled onto the bed. You were correct, your knees were fucked. You didn't pay any more attention to it, needing all of your focus to go to Jungkook.

Jungkook chuckled darkly, a knowing look in his eyes. His voice grows closer and soon enough, he's right behind you. "You're this excited to be fucked by a demon, I can't believe it. I'm a monster. I'm the fucking King of Hell, and yet here you are. You're presenting yourself to me, practically begging for it."

He planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before rearing his hand back and slapping your ass. You glanced back in shock. One of his hands were busy, pumping up and down his cock. The other hand cracked against your skin, extracting a yelp from you. Jungkook positioned himself over you, and you arched your back into him.

"Please," you whine quietly. Your voice was unsteady, and there was nothing you could do to control it. Jungkook doesn't reply at first, deliberating on his next move. "Are you this eager for all cock, or am I just special?" he growls, delivering another smack to your ass.

"Yours! Only your cock!" you cry out, feeling tears begin to build up. His free hand roamed from your ass to your flooded heat. He cupped your core gently, and you jerked lightly. You were still a bit sensitive from the earlier orgasm. His fingers find your clit, and he flicks his wrists in a circular motion a few times. Just as quickly as the touches came, they disappeared. Your walls uncontrollably grasped and tensed around nothing.

You need him to fill you to the brim already. You needed him to fuck you until you couldn't walk or see straight. Right when your patience started running out, he puts his cock to your entrance. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to think of any other dick than mine. Your poor little boyfriend will never be able to make you feel this way."

You were so worked up, at this point you didn't bother to argue that Namjoon wasn't your boyfriend. He moved his cock up your slit, brushing against your clit. You wiggled excitedly, stomach in knots. The head of his cock found your entrance again. He leans his weight onto you and enters you.

"I'm going to ruin you," he barks, bringing his hand down on your backside. The initial thrusts are slow like he's testing how far your depths go. He was also most likely giving your walls time to adjust to his size. You don't hold back your noises now, letting them spring wildly from your lips. You're glad you had already orgasmed once, so you were slick. This made the glide and stretch so much better.

Then, Jungkook yanks himself from you almost entirely. When he thrusts back in,  it's with nearly enough strength to knock you into the headboard. Your arms trembled, trying to hold yourself up. Jungkook slams into you again, and for a split second, you think you're going to fall face first into the silk sheets. Jungkook's hand travels up to your shoulder, and he helps hold you steady.

"Fuck," you spit out, heavily heaving. Jungkook keeps his promise, each thrust was going to ruin you. He snaps his hips up into you at a ruthless speed. Eventually, your arms do fail on you. Your face was buried into the sheets, along with your fingers twisted into them. "I don't think I've ever felt a pussy as tight as yours, fuck," he rumbles.

Jungkook places his other hand on your shoulder. He uses both arms to yank you up, and to his chest. You're lifted off the bed now, and your legs are thrown over Jungkook's thick thighs. Jungkook never stops pounding into you, although you're pretty much sitting in his lap. His hand travels from his shoulder, past your collarbones, and to your throat.

He wraps his hand gently around it, ever so slightly constricting your breathing. You snap your hips down onto him the best you can. Your tits bounce lewdly, and you can do nothing but helplessly moan. Jungkook seemed to like this angle, not wanting to release you or your throat. You rotated your hips and did your best to grind down onto him with equal passion. He releases your throat but decides to hook his arms under your own. He lets you lean forwards slightly, so the only thing keeping you from smacking your face onto the bed is his arms hooked around your shoulders.

The coil in your tummy was threatening to snap, but you urged it away. There was a tiny sense of control you had before, but now there was none. Jungkook had inhuman strength and could toss you around as he pleased. Jungkook is close to your ear, panting heavily. Somehow, he knows. "That's right, baby. You don't come until I tell you that you can. You're fucking mine."

Jungkook knew your body so well. He knew how to press your buttons and how to play with you flawlessly. He found the spot inside of you that he had previously discovered with his fingers. He angled his body so he could repeatedly jab his cock into that place. A scream erupts from your sore throat, and you try to find something to grasp onto.

You find nothing, though, and let your hands fall limply to your sides. Your limbs came back to life though when the pads of Jungkook's fingers find your clit. You nearly come on the spot but manage to choke it back. Your hands clamped around his wrist, trying to make him stop circling your sensitive nub. There was no way, you weren't going to last. There wasn't a single sign he was planning to slow down, either.

"I'm close, baby. Don't worry," Jungkook snarls. His words come off as harsh, but also endearing. His thrusts turned sloppy, and you knew he was telling the truth. No matter how messy, he was still more skilled than any other man you had ever been with.

"Come, come for me like the good girl you are," he orders, hips giving their final few jerks. You couldn't deny him even if you wanted to. The blistering, white-hot heat courses through you. He fills you immediately, and you were slightly surprised by the unfamiliar feeling. Never had someone stuffed you so full. Or filled you at all. Jungkook goes to pull out, and most of the liquid flows out from your walls.

He positions you carefully on the bed. You blink slowly, entirely spent. "You did so well for me, Y/N. Thank you," Jungkook coos. You can't see his facial expression, because you're too tired to open your eyes. Jungkook cleaned you up the best he could, and soon enough you passed out with him realizing it.

You crack your eyes open, yawning contently. There was no alarm obnoxiously beeping, forcing you to wake up. It was merely sunlight seeping through your curtains and the sound of the birds outside chirping. Jungkook must have brought you home while you were resting. Jungkook, wait? What?

Memories of last night flood you, and you raise straight up. The memories were slightly blurry, almost like you had been drunk. You frown, and after a minute or so, it becomes clear. You had held up your end of the deal.

Something still seems wrong though. You drag yourself from your bed and glance in the mirror. There are no visible bruises on you or your neck. You notice you're wearing the exact same clothes you were before Jungkook had destroyed them. After a minute or two of staring at yourself, you think you know what's wrong.

You roll up your sleeve, the mark was still there.

Jungkook had forgotten to remove it. Fuck.

[the-energon-hole]

Could I request some fall/autumn/halloween headcanons with tfp Smokescreen and Bee with their s/o's?

((A/N - I got stuck on this one, so I’m sorry if it seems a little off in anyway I had to adjust it so many times.))

Bumblebee

-”Oh, do you like that picture Bee?” You asked as you sat in an old lawn chair in the garage next to him. You were wrapped up in a nice warm blanket sipping a nice warm cup of coffee in your pajamas, it was a little self indulgent to do this with Bee, but the two of you decided that a night in could be relaxing and fun. No Decepticon Autobot War, no patrolling around the dusty old desert to keep watch for danger, and absolutely no one else but the two of you just sitting around and having a good chat. It was becoming a rarer and rarer commodity that the two of you would get time to yourselves beyond the little sneaks of affection you could squeeze in when there was down time at the base- it was nice to just sit and relax and talk to each other the way normal domestic partners were able to do, even if your relationship was far from normal. Bee beeped quizzically at you as he found one of your old photo albums lying on one of the workbenches in the small concrete room, you let him go through all your old photos… even if some of them hurt to look at and remember. The one he was asking about though was a fond memory you had from when you were younger and much more entrepid than you were now. It was a picture of you wrapped up in a warm and colorfully knitted scarf with mittens to match that were covering your hands, and as you had them thrown over your head there were leaves of so many varying colors flying around you in a messy fashion, some even sticking to your flushed looking face and to the dark beanie that covered your head. “That picture? Hmm… I can’t remember who took that one, but it was a trip I took up to the mountains so I could see the changing of the leaves for the first time. You don’t really experience seasons out here in the desert, so it was nice to be able to experience it at least once in my life.” Bee beeped at you quizzically again with a lot of inflection in his tone, and it finally hit you what he meant through his words… he had never experienced Autumn either. He hasn’t been able to see the world beyond the desert and the city the resides within it. It was then that you vowed to take him on the most amazing road trip once this whole war was over, you were going to show him the most amazing and beautiful places that the world has to offer.

-You sat cross legged on Bumblebee’s yellow and black hood as you examined a medium brown shipping box that was surprisingly light for its size. Bee beeped quizzically at you as you rotated the box in your hands as you shook it a little to try and guess what was inside. It was a package you ordered months ago and completely forgot about due to the fact you got swept up in an alien war between a species that consisted of giant robots- you argued that was a pretty fair reason to forget about your mail delivery on a consistent basis. Bee beeped at you again a little louder, which pulled you from you thoughts enough to chuckle and answer hks question- “Sorry, Bee, it looks like a package I ordered a while ago. I forgot what it was that I bought and I was trying to think of what it was that I could have ordered.” Bee responded with a noise of understanding as you adjusted yourself on the top of his hood so that you could properly open the box without making to much of a mess that you would have to clean up later. “Oh! This is the knitted Fall Ware I bought from that online designer I like” you exclaimed as you pulled out a plush looking scarf that was very soft to the touch, the next item you fished from the box was a sweater made of the same material that had a beautiful and artistic depiction of a tree losing its leaves that had changed to all different kinds of colors as they almost appeared to sway in the breeze on the still image on the piece of outerwear, and the last thing you pulled from the box was a cute little beanie that had a similar pattern to that of the sweater that was made of equally soft material. Bee beeped at you again as you wrapped the scarf around your neck in glee as you strokes at the fabric with your fingers, “These were fashion accessories that were apart of a bigger fall line by this internet designer, aren’t they cute? It’s a little too warm to wear them out here in the desert, but I just couldn’t pass up an opportunity to snag myself a set when the time came.” Bee didn’t understand what you meant by fashion, but he was happy that you were happy about getting clothes that were meant to match the season of autumn. Besides, he thought you looked nice with all your new pieces of clothing- the warm colors matched your personality in a way he couldn’t describe, it was like a reflection of not only the changing of the season but also of who you were on the inside. 

-You sat in your driveway in your new Halloween costumes as you watched the sun orange and yellow sun begin to dip down over the horizon. You’d be surprised at the fact that this small town does have quite a population of children, young children specifically- the ones that like to dress up in fun costumes and run around and collect as much candy as their bags could carry. You always loved Halloween and being able to celebrate it when you were little, and now that you were older and able to give out sweets on your own, you found it endearing and cute to see all the little ones running around asking for candy. You had the driveway decorated in a small way- a few body parts here and a few spiders there, but the big focal point of your decorations was none other than the bot himself, Bumblebee! He stood there nervously as the first group of kids of the night ran up to him and marveled at the “decoration” while the parents asked how you managed to accomplish such an amazing feat of engineering. “How did you get it’s eyes to glow so bright?” “It makes sounds just like a real machine!” “Oh, wow! It’s so warm and not cold at all!” After the night went on for awhile, you noticed Bee was actually having a good time receiving so much attention- you knew he would like pretending to be a statue more than he thought, olus, it was a good reminder for him about what it was that he was fighting for here on earth. These kids, these families, these people all called this floating rock their home and had nowhere else to go in the entire universe- this was a good way to not only see what he was fighting for, but for him to feel appreciated by civilians without giving away the fact he was an alien machine from another galaxy. so many kids dropped by that there was almost a party there on your block, but as it grew later and passed their bedtimes the crowd of people began to dissipate as they all waved goodbye to both you and the “statue” you let out a sigh of relief as your street was once again empty with all the houses that had light in them begin to grow dim. “How’d you like your first Halloween, Bee?” You asked as he transformed back into a car so you could usher him back into the privacy of your garage. He beeped happily at you as he began to describe all the kind things those kids said about him when they came up to place their hands on his frame- he felt so warm and loved as they spewed kind words at him in a way he had never experienced before. It made you smile as he continued on and on about his whole experience as if you weren’t there to see it, and it warmed your heart so much as you politely sat and listened to him speak with great passion and love.

Smokescreen

-You sat inside Smokescreen’s quarters that was located in the Autobot base doing nothing more than making a huge mess out of the project you had began just a few hours ago, but then again, the whole fun of this project was to get messy and mushy while teaching him the wily ways of humanity on the side. “So, why are you making a big mess again?” Smokescreen asked you as you sat on his desk covered in orange stringy pumpkin guts as you were trying to make the most traditional Jack-O-Lantern you could from this small one you picked up from the grocery store, you sighed at his question again as you tried not to touch your face out of frustration because you were still very sticky, it was literally about the third time he had asked that question- “It’s an old Hallow’s Eve tradition that dates back generations of humanity. Some people say that these little guys are supposed to protect your home from the undead, and others say they are meant to light the way for the good spirits to come and find you and give you blessings…” You explained as you finally began to carve into the surface of the pumpkin with your carving knife. “And… You believe that?” He asked in a rather crude tone as he cut you off before you could even finish your story, but you know he didn’t mean it on purpose- he just didn’t understand human customs and traditions quite yet, so it was only natural for him to think that what you were doing was rather… alien. “Does it matter if I do or not?” you shot back at him in a lighthearted tone as you placed a small tealight candle into the now hallowed and carved out shell of the tiny pumpkin “The point is that it’s tradition- and this tradition in particular can bring a lot of happiness to people. It’s a fun family activity that helps everyone get into the mood of the season, you know?” You light the candle and closed the pumpkin up  to show Smokescreen what it was that you were trying to teach him about. It was nothing fancy, just your run of the mill goofy face with triangle eyes and a jagged mouth, but it seems Smokescreen just made a strange noise as he just couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept as he looked down into the face of the Jack-O-Lantern you just carved. “C’mon, help me with the next one you big grump.” You snickered as he made a face at you calling him a grump- you pulled out another round pumpkin that was much bigger than the last one that could really use a face- the point wasn’t for him to understand really, the point was for you two to finally spend some time together doing the things that you wanted to do instead of having to worry about the war that was going on outside of these walls, and he was just happy to be spending one on one time with the one person who understand him… even if he doesn’t understand you completely yet. Hew was trying to understand, and you really appreciated the effort, even if he did fall flat sometimes.

-”Thanks for taking me all the way out to the nearest coffee shop, Smokescreen” you said as you swirled the hot cup of liquid around in your cup as you sped down the freeway to head back to Jasper. You felt a sense of comfort when you felt the warm liquid swirl around in the paper cup that was in your hands, it was a little sappy, but you knew that this little cup of coffee guaranteed that you were going to have a great start to the new season (even if you didn’t really get to experience it due to living in a desert climate). “Anything for you, though, I have to say- it smells a little funny but also a little familiar… funny in a good way, I think?” He responded as you took a big whiff of your coffee through the small ventilation  hole on the top of the cup. Pumpkin Spice, for you it was the perfect sign to let you know that it was the changing of the season, a perfect way to remind you that the rest of the world is experiencing cooler and cooler weather while beginning to prep for the upcoming holiday season. “It’s a special kind of spice that uses seasonal vegetation to celebrate a successful year of harvest- it’s a very popular scent on top of flavor. I use it all the time in the house as a candle because it’s kind of comforting.” You told him as you took a sip of your slightly too hot coffee- you might have to wait for it to cool off just a touch before you can really enjoy all of the flavors in the bitter liquid. “That must be why it is familiar! It’s comforting for me too… it reminds me of you, and anything that reminds me of you always makes me feel better.” You made an ‘aww’ noise at his words ad you put your hand on his dashboard. You could hear his voice stutter a little bit as he made a noise of sucking in air “I-I mean, you know- I like you and stuff but I- ummm.” He was stumbling through his words as he was trying to articulate his thoughts- he was so bad with words and it was so endearing and adorable to you. “You care about me and it’s very sweet, but don’t worry, just because you spill your guts to me it doesn’t make you any less of a macho mech.” You heard him sigh in relief. “Good! I mean- not that I think that kind of thing matters or anything. I mean- it does matter, but it doesn’t also… I mean-” “Relax, Smokescreen your emotional secret is just between you, me, and this cup of coffee.” You cut him off as you raised your cup a little to signify a mock toast as you took another sip of your seasonal drink. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” You just chuckled as you got comfortable in the driver’s seat once more as you opted to just watch the dry scenery pass you by once more- you reminisced about never being able to truly see the colors of fall, but that was ok, so long as you were surrounded by the people and bots that loved you nothing else really mattered.

-You jumped in your seat as you placed your hand over your chest in a way to try and quell the dramatic beating that you could feel inside of it. Smokescreen made a surprised noise as well, but his reaction was less dramatic than yours, which made you laugh harder at your own silliness. You both sat in front of a projection screen in his room just watching old classic horror movies from the 80s, you have seen all of these movies so many times as they aired as reruns on TV or they are always playing in the background during this time of year in shopping malls and movie theaters alike. “This is pretty gruesome! Why would those two teenagers stop in the middle of the woods to exchange fluids?! There is a guy trying to kill you!” Smokescreen emphasized as he was having a hard time understanding why humans would willfully do sexual things when there is a crazed serial killer on the loose. “You know Smokey, though this is a fictional movie, it has been known that adrenaline can increase the libido in humans- so scary things can make humans a little frisky.” You explained as you watched the killer hack up the poor teenagers who were screaming and begging for their lives. You didn’t really think beyond the words that came out of your mouth, as you were pretty much used to explaining things like this to Smokescreen, but when you caught him staring at you it made your face begin to flush as you asked him what he was looking at you like that for. “Are you watching this movie to… get your… libido er- going?” you nearly choked on your own oxygen as you coughed and almost panicked at what it was that he was implying. “Of course not! It’s nearly Hallow’s Eve and I was simply trying to get into the spooky mood!” you exclaimed as you put your hands on your cheeks to feel just how warm your face hard really gotten. “Ah…” He replied as he shifted a little in his seat on his berth. “Does that disappoint you?” you asked in a stoic way as you saw your opportunity to try and force Smokescreen into being more open and honest with his feelings. “I-I mean… I don’t- I don’t know. Yes? No?” He stammered as he too tried to cover his face in embarrassment “I mean- I like you. I think you’re attractive and I mean- who wouldn’t want to lay with you? N-Not that I want to right now! I mean, if you want-” You just chuckled as your face began to return to it’s normal color as you watched him struggle to find the words that were stuck in his audio box. “I know what you mean Smokey, I was just teasing you, you big goof.”you said as you gave him a gentle punch on his his servo- it was the closest appendage to you that you could reach to emphasize that you were just playing around with him. “Ok, good! Good” he sighed as he tried his best to turn his focus back onto the movie and to not try and think about the jarring conversation he just had with you where he nearly let his whole spark just puke out all of the deepest thoughts he had locked up in his processor. It wasn’t the right time to talk about that yet, but when it will be, he hopes that he doesn’t stammer and lose track of his words like he did earlier.

(02/11/2019)

[ungoodgatsby]

Snape is neither unequivocally good nor bad, and that is what makes him interesting: an analysis

Fan conversations about Severus Snape in the Harry Potter series are very polarized. There are fans who are very sympathetic towards him and others fans who think he is the worst, to put it in simplified terms. I can’t help to think both of these stark sets of opinions are wrong and I really wish fans were more willing to analyze Snape’s role in the overall story (rather than just his individual actions) and what they mean thematically and symbolically. So here we go...

We’re supposed to draw specific parallels between Harry, Snape, and Voldemort. In Deathly Hallows, Harry specifically refers to the three of them as the lost boys of Hogwarts. They all are (1) half-blood wizards with (2) not-so-great home lives (3) who have some particular magical talents (4) who find a place and home at Hogwarts.

Now the connections and similarities between Harry and Tom Riddle have been pointed out explicitly since at least Chamber of Secrets. However, this is also the book where Dumbledore tells us that it is our choices, far more than our abilities, that determine who we are. Snape fitting into the comparison with Harry and Voldemort is only uncovered in the last book, when his full backstory is revealed. Because there is so much going on in that book, including just what’s going on with Snape, this nuance gets overlooked in the analysis of the Harry Potter saga.

Now each pair amongst the three have some particular parallels that the third doesn’t have.  (Both Harry and Voldemort are orphans while Snape is not; both Harry and Snape are bullying victims while Voldemort is not; both Snape and Voldemort resent their Muggle fathers, while this doesn’t apply to Harry, etc.) However, all three don’t need to be exact matches for the power of the story or parallel to work.

It is our choices that determine who we are. Voldemort is power-hungry, cruel, uncaring, unloving, with no ability to trust or foster friendships or value human souls. Harry is a flawed human being, as we all are, but ultimately good. He stands up for what is right, confronts bullies, is generally kind and accepting, and altogether brave, and and so loving he is willing to sacrifice his own life for others.

Snape is… somewhere in between. He is spiteful and bitter. He is a bully, and the worst kind of bully in my humble opinion, an adult in authority who bullies children. He’s made a lot of mistakes (the word mistakes being understatement here) getting involved in Voldemort’s movement the first time around, but also spent his entire life trying to make up for being involved in a movement that ultimately resulted in the death of the one person he ever really cared for and loved and had a meaningful relationship with -- his childhood best friend and the woman he was ‘in love’ with, Lily. He risks his safety, well-being, and life, and -- in the end -- does give his life in pursuit of protecting Lily’s son and defeating Voldemort. If we can take Snape telling off Phineus for using the word ‘mudblood’ as an indication, he grew out his bigotry. (Although I have a theory that it wasn’t the blood supremacy stuff that was the main draw to the Death Eaters for Snape. Yes, he expressed the ideals, even going to far as to use a slur towards his best friend, but I think he was more in it for power via the dark arts, but I digress.)

In the final battle between Harry and Voldemort, Harry calls for Voldemort to feel remorse. Throughout the whole series, the emphasis on the power of love as the strongest magic there is has been repeated ad nauseum. I don’t think I have to point out of the importance of ‘the power of love’ in Harry’s journey; the books do that for me wonderfully. Voldemort never felt remorse or love, and the idea that they were important or necessary was ridiculous to him.

Snape felt remorse and he loved, limited as it may be. This is the redeeming thing about him. Love and remorse were what inspired him to do things like be a triple agent/reverse mole between Voldemort and Dumbledore, gaining both invaluable information for Dumbledore, but also setting himself in a place of power as a Death Eater so that he could continue to do Dumbledore’s work and play Voldemort after Dumbledore’s death. I want to keep using the word invaluable over and over again, because Snape got the Gryffindor sword to Harry, and Snape was the last conduit of necessary info from Dumbledore to Harry, and Snape was covertly protecting the Hogwarts’ students from a worse reign of terror under the Carrows. Yes, on a personal level, Snape is a pretty awful person and I am not denying it or defending it. He is very unnecessarily cruel to his students, lets himself be blinded by his old resentments, and is kinda a major douche. But there is a difference between being a major douche and being sadistically, power hunger, completely loveless evil like Voldemort.

A lot of fans, I’ve noticed, have called Snape’s actions selfish, or something of the sort. I kind of a agree, but also think many acts of seeking redemption or forgiveness have an element of selfishness to them. We want to feel better about ourselves or we want to assuage our guilt. Sometimes we want something, like a renewed relationship, whether romantic, friendship, or familial, that has been damaged by our actions.

But Snape really had nothing to gain, and wasn’t really looking to gain anything. I think it’s quite clear he didn’t care about his life or reputation beyond protecting Lily’s child after her sacrificial death (and how that tied in to destroying Voldemort, because Voldemort was out to destroy Lily’s child). He didn’t care if he was remembered as a villain or traitor or the man who murdered Dumbledore, that was how dedicated he was to his mission. Honestly, I think if it is was up to Snape, Harry never would’ve learned that he cared deeply for Lily, but Snape was dying and the only way to give Harry the necessary information from Dumbledore and have it believed was to let Harry know the whole story.

Now, I don’t think he compares to Harry, who I think is one of the most loving, most selfless, and most brave characters in the story (although Harry is definitely too humble to think of himself this way). However, Snape was also loving and selfless and brave, again, in his limited way.

The real tragedy of Snape’s character is that he couldn’t let go of resentment and be a better person and teacher. He is able to give up his safety, his life, his reputation, any other aims or goals he had for his life, in the ultimate act of remorse for the person he loved. But petty resentment? Nope, that’s off the table.

He’s no Harry Potter. If we’ve established that the difference that makes up the gap between our parallelled lost boys of Hogwarts, our three brothers, it is that Snape can feel love and remorse when Voldemort can’t/won’t. The difference between Harry and Snape, the lonely kids with abusive childhoods and ratty, ill-fitting close who are just looking for a place to belong and people to belong with… the difference is that Harry is able to forgive. He’s able to shake Dudley’s -- his childhood bully’s -- hand, share a nod with Draco, call his most hated teacher “the bravest man I ever knew.” He’s able, after time, after growing up and gaining perspective, see past being wronged to forgive, to not hold onto resentment and bitterness. He gets hurt, loses loved ones to death, but that doesn’t stop him from forming new relationships. Harry might claim in moments of intense grief, such as after Sirius’ death, that he doesn’t want to feel or care anymore, but he never stops feeling or caring.

It’s when you bring Snape into the well-defined parallels of Harry and Voldemort that you get this more nuanced look than just good and evil outcomes. I think that is why Snape is bickered over so much in fandom, because he’s not something that can easily be categorized or written off. He’s not evil in that way Voldemort or Bellatrix or Umbridge are, but he’s not Harry, Ron, or Hermione, humanly-flawed but still stand up examples of friendship, loyalty, and bravery. Snape’s not someone we can call good without major caveats. But he’s so important in the Harry Potter story, and not just plotwise, but character-wise and theme-wise as well.

While the Harry Potter story does seem in many ways a purveyor of that traditional good vs evil fantasy trope, Snape frustrates that, not being a moderately flawed hero or an outright villain or just a jerky stock character that can be brushed aside without need for further thought. He’s not nice. He did some really good things; he did some really bad things. He was one of Harry’s biggest obstacles throughout his schooling, but Harry also couldn’t have completed his mission, killed Voldemort, saved the wizarding world without him. In a story about love and love’s redemption, Snape loves but it’s necessarily pure or healthy. In a story about choices defining who we are, Snape makes contradictory ones. In a good vs evil story, Snape is there, not really fitting into either, and that’s what makes him fascinating and endlessly debatable. What is not debatable is that in the Harry Potter saga Snape is one of the fulcrum on which the story relies.