#and becoming miserable and cruel and just... so far from the man he was at the start of k4- and when he loses his memories again hes just..

[bistaxx]

k!Luzu is both the most tragic little man who gives me constant pain and grief but also a total loser who I want to bully /lovingly

[sideysvault]

𐙚⋆° Convincing Deadpool that you like his face just as it is𐙚⋆°

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

Friends to lovers. 0.5k wc

Warnings: Foul language

────────

— His morals had been down ever since he got rejected from the avengers. And as much as you tried to support his attempts at having a “normal” life, you couldn’t help but notice he was trying to hide and make himself smaller. You couldn’t stand it. You missed the man he used to be. The man you couldn’t help but have a massive crush on.

— Deadpool and you met fairly recently, but you clicked immediately. There was something about Wade’s personality that went really well with yours. You always knew you’d be in trouble if you two got close. You couldn’t help but be overly attracted by his unexpected acts of kindness, his loyalty, his humor and, of course, how his red suit tightly hugged his body.

— Even if you knew that he was going through a rough patch, you never expected it to go this far. You tried so hard to contain the snort that came out of you when you saw his “hair system”. And you failed miserably.

“You are a cruel, motherfucker. I hate you”.

“Wade, baby. A wig?”

“It’s not a wig! It’s a hair system”.

“Ok, sure. But you don’t need it. You know that, right?”

“I’m in sales for fuck's sake. I’ll starve to death if I don’t wear this shit”.

“Fuck. Them. Plus, A summer balayage it’s so not your style anyway

— Having dinner at his place had become a normal occurrence. Al would even sometimes join the two of you. And you couldn’t help but notice that he is always overly careful. Wade only lifts his mask enough for him to be able to eat. At the end of a particularly fun night (And, after having a couple of beers) You encourage him to take it out. All the way. You really don’t mind.

“No, Cupcake. I don’t want you to choke on your food and die by shock. Imagine a third degree burn victim that somehow also got parotitis on their face. That 's me”.

Your heart skipped a bit. Something turned in your stomach. The sudden feeling that he wasn’t really joking over you came all over your body. You were almost sure that your heart just broke a little bit. But you try not to push him too much.

You get up and come closer to him. You took all the courage you could muster and gave him a little kiss on the right side of his chin. One of the few spots of his damaged skin that you’d seen.

“I don't know. Seems pretty okay to me”.

He lifted his gaze at you. Even with the mask on, you could tell he felt some sense of evasive curiosity. And just as you were starting to worry that you had gone too far… A cocky smile appeared on his face as he said “You can be sweet. Big time. Who would’ve guessed”.

You mirrored his smile. And, God. You looked gorgeous. Wade always thought he never stood a chance. He wasn’t easy to be around, let alone love. But after all, the woman might just feel the same way he does.

That day, a beam of hope lingered over the two of you.

────────

Notes: Based on this request!. I might rewrite this very soon, life has been a bit more hectic than usual -Sidey x

[melliemell]

Pairing: Dazai x reader

Contents: NSFW, public masturbation, Christmas choco crawl gone wrong due to horny boyfriend who has no sense of shame, ahh dazai, the man that you are, Approx. 1k. words

Dazai’s gaze lingered on you, the playful tilt of his lips obscured by his warm cup of cocoa. 

You studied him in return, the festive atmosphere of the Christmas market barely of importance. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when you felt the change of mood between you, but the cheerfulness and easy smiles of your date had turned into heated stares and prolonged caresses; a sly hand around your waist, a lingering kiss by your ear now and then. As much physical contact Dazai could sneak around you without crossing the line of innocent teasing.

But you knew better. 

He was becoming predictable, thinking less with his brain in favour of other parts. And he knew that you knew that.

You sipped from your cup, ignoring the hand innocently rested at your hip. “We still have two more stalls to go.” 

“Come now, a deal’s a deal. Were you expecting me to cave under pressure?” Dazai fluttered his lashes, coming dangerously close to spilling his drink as he pulled you closer to him. 

“More like “collapse from chocolate poisoning”, or something,” you said, pulling quickly down the beanie over his eyes before stifling a laugh as Dazai batted your hand away, the hideous garment back in its place over his curls.

Neon green. It was neon. Green.

Oh God.

It was you who suggested doing a choco crawl around the market, the idea too cute to pass on. Only, the weather had its own plans. Forced to deck out in whatever you could find in the closet, you were a sight to behold indeed; Dazai and his barely existent winter clothes combined with an obvious lack of colour coordination, and you trying to salvage the situation and failing miserably at it. Oh well.

Embarrassed? Yes. But drinking hot chocolate with Christmas lights all around you? Worth it.

“I’ll make sure to swoon very prettily for you, don’t worry,” Dazai said.

“Really? You strike me more as a fold-like-a-chair type of person.”

Dazai gasped, eyes offended. “Cruel. A cruel thing to say, and to your lover of all. The light of your life. Unforgivable.”

“Specialty treatment just for you.” You patted him on the cheek.

Dazai pouted. But it didn’t seem to stop him from pressing you against one of the secluded barracks an hour later, his kiss hungry and tasting sweet against your lips. Dazai never had much patience for anything, grabbing at opportunities as they appeared with not the slightest guilt. 

You were no exception; letting him drape himself all over you all evening, stealing chaste kisses wherever he could–only to sneakily build up to this. His hands were cold against your cheeks, but the leg he nestled between your thighs sent enough heat through your body to compensate.

“Couldn’t you wait till we got home?” you breathed against him, pulling at his scarf until it fell loose around his shoulders. He shuddered as your lips found warm skin, teasing a trail of open-mouthed kisses up his neck and jaw. 

“Pshh, we can do seconds there if you’re offering?” He smiled cheekily, eyes hooded in an all too familiar expression. 

You levelled him with a stare. “Dazai.”

“Mmyes?”

“We. Are not. Having sex in the middle of a fucking market.”

“What? Who said that?” Dazai stretched up, looking around you both. “I definitely didn’t say that. Weird.”

You were off to the side, far away to have some privacy, yes. But not sex. You could practically see pedestrians walking about in the distance. Dazai loved being a tease, and the acquired years of practice in dealing with him prepared you for almost anything that spilled from his mouth.

Almost.

Dazai was being dramatic, is all. So long as you pampered him in enough attention he’d be back to a more tolerable state sooner or later. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t pull at his strings from time to time either…

“Insufferable,” you said, pulling all your annoyance in that one word. And just when the corner of Dazai’s lip pulled, a grin at the ready, your hand grabbed at his trousers, freezing his expression in place as you cupped his half-hard cock in your palm. 

“Oh-ohh,” he said, blinking. “That took a turn.”

You moved closer, shielding the view of his torse with your body. You squeezed experimentally, giving yourself a bit of time before you made your decision. Dazai’s hips bucked against you almost involuntarily.

You unzipped his trousers, no hesitation in your movement. Dazai’s forehead fell on your shoulder the moment you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. You barely gave him time to gather himself as you moved, stroking him fast as he filled quickly in your palm. 

“Don’t move,” you whispered, holding him around the torso. No good in him swooning on you now, pretty or not.

If he answered, you didn’t hear; his lips were already on yours. 

He was all want now, maybe the shock of you actually doing this sending even more pleasure down his cock. There was certainly an argument for it there; you could practically feel him throbbing against your touch.

You smiled, biting at Dazai’s lower lip before pulling back completely. You didn’t give him time to react, zipping him back up snugly in his all-too-tight clothes now. “Well, chop chop.”

And you walked off, leaving a panting Dazai behind you, mouth hanging open as his hand flew to his crotch. 

“What. What–” he scrambled after you, cheeks dusted so prettily by his flush.

“The quicker we get home, the better. Right?” you said, looking straight ahead as you fought to keep a neutral face. “Unless you don’t want my help with that anymore.”

Dazai let out a groan, burying his face in his hands. It was unlikely he’d survive that long, not unless you found a car. But watching him be in torment was part of the fun. 

“And I am the insufferable one,” Dazai murmured under his breath, grabbing you by the hand before he practically hauled you towards the sidewalk, eyes boring into the streets like a hawk before he lunged at the first taxi he found.

Okay, maybe you felt a bit bad. A teeny tiny bit. 

You’d make sure to make up for it real good though.

[bea-ce]

A pinky promise.

pairing: childe x reader

genre: hurt/angst, no comfort.

word count: 0.9k

warnings: major character death, mentions of blood, usage of tartaglia's real name.

notes: me when i'm in love with the character with the most death flags and have to make it everyone else's problem too by making them as miserable as me :heart:

It wasn't often that Ajax came home to you as clean and proper as you had received him this time: His hair brushed and neatly put in place, along with his face cleaned and shaved.

It almost came as a relief of how proper and intact he had returned to you. Nothing like the other instances where he’d come back home to you, battered, bruised, and with cuts and wounds lingering across his bloodied body. Blood in which you oftentimes couldn’t discern whose it was- his own, or that of those unfortunate enough to cross paths with him and meet their fate at his hands.

Ajax had always been beautiful to you- You truly loved him: Scars, flaws and all. It would be ignorant to state anything other than the objective fact that Ajax was attractive. A pretty boy, and a handsome young man. 

You had always found Ajax beautiful, always longing to have his charming smile beaming at you from the docks as he’d run towards you and shield you from the harsh winter winds of the cold land with his warm, secure arms.

But Ajax doesn’t bring you into his arms to greet you this time.

He doesn’t flash you his beaming smile.

And he certainly doesn’t shield you from the biting cold.

Ajax was sometimes accompanied by men in uniforms; Men from the Fatui, oftentimes subordinates of his. Their presence had become normalized in your life, given your precious place in the harbinger’s heart. Even though their looming company had become recurring, it hadn’t made it any less uncomfortable for you, despite the years that passed with having them around.

And even though you had grown accustomed to the unsettling sensation of being watched from afar by those men, it was an entirely different experience to have them wander in front of you.

You had always assumed that having them closer would alleviate your unease, but now you realize, far too late, that this could never be the case.

The violet rose petals clutched tightly in your hand decorate the pristine white snow beneath your feet, leaving a trail as you follow the four men with heavy steps. For some reason it reminds you of the many bouquets of flowers that Ajax would often bring home for you, always an odd number of flowers in them. You had always found it ridiculous yet still endearing that someone as feared and fierce as Ajax would believe in such superstitions. You'd often tease him about his superstitions, playfully arguing that the number of flowers could hardly dictate anyone's fate.

Are you wishing death upon me, my dear? Don’t you know that an even number of flowers represent the end of a life cycle? Does my beloved perhaps wish for my demise? How cruel! He would say, pouting adorably.

You'd laugh at his endearing pout, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek with a small apology for your mishap. 

But as you stand here now, clutching an even number of blooms, you can't help but wonder of a reality where you didn’t dismiss his superstitions.

Ajax had always been beautiful to you, so much so that he would often catch you staring at him for just a moment too long. He would laugh softly, calling you out for it, even though he knew he was being hypocritical, as he was just as smitten with you, if not more.

And as always, you stare down at him like you've always done, for your love for him has never faltered, even now. The adoration you felt in those stolen glances is the same as the love you hold in this moment, unwavering and deep, despite the cruel reality before you.

His face is serene, almost as if he were merely sleeping. His hair, meticulously brushed, frames his face perfectly, and his clean-shaven skin glows softly in the muted light. It's a cruel illusion, this semblance of peace, masking the violence that took him from you.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the even-numbered flowers in your hand. Slowly, you bend down and place the bouquet on his chest, your fingers lingering on the petals for a moment longer. 

The wind picks up, swirling around you, as if to echo your sorrow. You step back, the tears you’ve been holding back finally spilling over. The men in uniforms stand silently, giving you space, yet their presence is a stark reminder of the life Ajax led and the dangers he faced.

You take one final look at his peaceful face, etching it into your memory, before gently brushing his hair aside and pressing a final kiss to his now cold skin, your lips ghosting over his freckled cheeks and staining his skin with your tears.

Turning away, you feel the weight of sorrow settle in your heart, accompanied by an unsettling calmness. He had come back to you this time, finally clean and proper as he had often 'pinky promised' but never fulfilled. Yet now, in this bitter reality, you would have taken him back in any state but this. 

What a tragic and unnecessary loss, you think bitterly, as you turn your back on the cold, still figure before you, walking away with leaden footsteps. Each step echoes with the emptiness of a future stolen too soon, shattered into pieces, leaving you to return home with the shards with no one to put it back together with- leaving you all alone, again.

[oceanlipgloss]

HEARTBREAKER

XAVIER.

+ warnings: light angst, slight hint on anecdote.

+ annotation: momental mention of MC's default hair colour.

Heartbreaker, cruel and blue. There was so much pain in that little body. Always sad, always longing to make peoples’ hearts ache too.

No one liked the tiny thing. It liked no one. Crying, chanting, crying even more, breaking hearts while it was at it. It was a mean little thing, but it secretly wished to be loved. Maybe it, too, was lonely. Maybe, as many others did, it too needed a hug of sorts—a hug like  a mug of hot chocolate, marshmallows floating on its surface: warm, all sugar. Maybe.

Heartbreaker, spiteful and blue. There was so much chagrin in that little body. Wrapped in an indigo scarf, yet always cold at heart. It was shivering on the inside. A cat tucked into a quilt of snow.

No one could get their hands on the teary thing.

Ever.

Until one day, a moonlit lady and her starlit prince snatched it.

Heartbreaker, anxious and blue. There was so much distress in that little body. It was squeezed in harsh hands as though it were an odd cake or cookie better off crumbling, else it goes down a stranger’s stomach and makes their heart—not any other organ besides their heart—sick.

The kidnappers hated it. It hated them even more. Heartbreaker knew it wasn’t loved. It felt angry and alone.

Cry, cry, cry.

Heartbreaker was a terrible crybaby. All it did was cry.

There was a pink romance shimmering before its big eyes, coating the white apartment with stardust and rosy glitter. So, blue Heartbreaker cried even harder.

Every night, the man gazed at the faraway stars. Every night, the woman pointed at the distant moon.

Their conversations were soft and silly in the late spring breeze. They talked about nothing at all, yet about everything all at once. Sweet, saccharine nothings.

Their stark locks interlocked in the night, thin braids of chocolate-brown and honeyed silver. Ringed Saturn.

They loved each other.

Love. A lie—is love anything but? Lies are usually short-lived; they had such pathetic lifepans. The one and only destiny of any love is for its tale to disappear like a dead star, like it never happened!

The young man was so cool, but still so impatient. Heartbreaker’s tears dropped onto the galactic light within him and made it blaze to burn. Excess oil in a lantern. He sometimes glared when sniffles disrupted their quiet words. The looks he gave were scarier than daggers or swords.

Space itself seemed to reside in the vast blue of his unlikely eyes. Stars could have spun their sharp extremities towards his enemies. Galaxies might have swallowed any creature he despised. He could have made the universe kneel for him and do it all.

Until one day, that knight’s sweetheart took Heartbreaker’s small hand and introduced it to the constellations. Like salt on popcorn, they studded the sky.

For a minute, for a very short minute, Heartbreaker somehow forgot how to cry. The planets shimmered in its admiring eyes. The world was an ugly, miserable place, but it still yearned to stargaze every night.

However, there was a deal to make: the better it behaved, the less it cried, only when it becomes kind, will it be rewarded by the stars—a ticket to watch them sparkle in a dizzyingly pretty show. And there was an oath to witness the man take: the slightest attempt to hurt his love would send it as far as could be from the stars—let it be lost within a vortex, cold and celestial. A black hole.

Heartbreak always latches onto the kind. It feels sweet for them, has a taste for their suicidal sweetness. So it was no wonder why Heartbreaker always clung to the girl, for her lover—calm and gentle as he was when with her—made its skin crawl.

There was a swirl of jealousy in his chest,  perhaps somewhat irrational, just not he was so irrationally in love; he wanted to be the one closest to her, or the only one whose clothes can brush against hers. Yet, Heartbreaker glued itself to her like a molten gummy bear.

Until one day, Heartbreaker had its first sip of marshmallow-sprinkled hot chocolate. It got its first hug. The princess was warm and sweet.

Heartbreaker was finally free.

But was it really?

Some things never change, like love and fate, despair and Heartbreaker.

Heartbreaker, envious and blue. There was so much envy in that little body. It was mean, but so were the dreamy lovers. A starry-eyed hunter and her blue-eyed monster.

‘Some soulmates aren’t meant to stay together,’ decided heartbroken Heartbreaker.

+notes: hello children, it is time to baby Heartbreaker. Once again I am projecting, because it is ME who wants to hug it. I love it sm. It's so mean and cute and sad and small. It is but a baby-blue lemon-like creature with a hate for love and passion for destructive desires same I kind of tried to make the fic resemble a children's story in some parts because Heartbreaker is baby material chaos included lol and idk why 2 of my 3 LNDS fics have been this unusual, but it will happen again, I promise. Also, XAVIER...I am very normal about the guy is all I'm saying. And yes, of course I had to snatch this chance to glaze this piece with a thin coating of heartbreak merriness from his anecdote.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[kindasleepywriter]

BoP - Chapter 3: Mutual Understanding

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: You and Azriel come to a tentative agreement, while he reflects on the first time he met you.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.6k.

Previous | Next

Azriel was on his way home when he met you for the second time in 300 years. He was exhausted and ready for the night to end. Everything that could’ve gone wrong in the previous 24 hours had indeed gone wrong.

He’d tossed and turned all night, falling asleep too late, and subsequently felt miserable during training. Some of his shadows had immediately rushed to him afterwards with some information from a source he had in the Day court, about an Illyrian rushing through their territory, heading directly to the Night court like his life depended on it.

It wasn’t that important of a tip, but he felt like he should at least go check out the south borders to check if there wasn’t any more trouble currently heading to the border alongside him. However, the Spymaster had been delayed by one thing and then another and so on and so forth until he’d had no choice but to do his surveillance in the early morning hours. The visibility was horrible even with his enhanced eyesight and, while his shadows kept an eye on the ground in his stead, he felt uneasy sticking around the same place for a while.

Luckily, he didn’t have to circle the border for too long before his shadows started whispering in his ear about the man running through the mountains. This was very unusual, as the man should’ve just been able to take flight and increase his speed ten-fold, especially if he was in a hurry. He still stuck to the ground, and Azriel wondered if something kept him grounded. However, as he pondered, Azriel’s shadows threw him one more piece of information that was much more interesting: a Peregryn was tailing the man. It wasn’t everyday one could see one of the feathered-wing fae on solid ground at all, but especially not in Night court territory. The Illyrians and Peregryns had a tense relationship, to say the least. The former didn’t approve of the freedom women had in Dawn, nor their ability to join their court’s leagues. Peregryns on the other hand viewed their Night court cousins as impulsive and cruel brutes who mistreated their own and couldn’t see past their own nose. Azriel, having his own difficult opinion on his kind, couldn’t truthfully say that the Peregryns were entirely wrong.

After learning of your presence, he’d flown slowly, high above the trees, keeping watch over the two individuals running through the forest while keeping a safe enough distance to keep him from having to cloak himself in darkness. However, once he realized that you had caught up to the Illyrian, he’d instantly disappeared into the shadows to observe the interaction between you two from up close. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight that awaited him: you, immaculate white wings tucked tightly against your back, using your weight to hold down the man whose own wings were covered in dirty bandages. You’d readied herself to slice his throat without a single care in the world, eyes absolutely void of any emotion. You radiated danger.

He'd stopped you, of course, only to be met with venomous and taunting verbal attacks. He’d been a little frustrated at not recognizing you initially, chalking it up to the fact that he hadn’t slept, and had initially responded in kind before he’d realized that he was going too far with his own jibes and that he had to keep some control over his emotions. You might be a vulture, but that didn’t mean he had to lower himself below his own standards. You were making it extremely hard to do so, however, and you’d become shockingly different from your time in Autumn. At the time, you’d been a meek girl at the beck and call of the Vanseras, smart and kind but completely lost in the politics of their palace. One of them seemed to have secured your love, even though it was clear he was playing with your feelings and didn’t reciprocate. He didn’t know then or now what you possessed or had done for Beron to be so interested, but the High Lord had unfortunately seemed to be successful at keeping you trapped in his court. For all that Azriel knew, maybe you still were, but the deadly aura around you made that unlikely.

When his own cruel words from that first encounter had been thrown back in his face, he’d sighed internally but pretended amusement to keep you from seeing how he really felt: ashamed. He had said those words and even Cassian had called him harsh at the time, but he had done so for a reason. He had approached it all wrong, but he couldn’t exactly justify himself to you, not with how you were acting. You probably thought of him as a complete ass and while he wanted to explain, he didn’t think he could trust you not to find a weakness in his words. You were sharper than an arrowhead now, every word chosen carefully to maintain your impenetrable shields. Azriel wondered, how had you become so cold?

He’d also noticed how his shadows reacted to you, he wasn’t blind, your presence soothing them into stillness. A completely new behaviour, as they usually never took a moment of rest and carried information to him endlessly, no matter how much he’d love for them to stop and just be quiet for a moment sometimes. Bunch of traitors, he thought, playing nice just because of a pretty lady. He had to admit that you were indeed beautiful, your captivating eyes almost urging him to come closer despite the hostile demeanour you carried. He had partially failed to resist the call, reminding himself that you could very well be a spy or an enemy of the court, but he’d nevertheless stepped forward unconsciously to find himself standing only a few feet from where you stood. Nevertheless, no matter how alluring you were, his shadows really needed to stop posturing at every new interesting woman he met. They were going to run out of tricks quickly at this rate, perhaps that would help tame their newfound determination to meddle in his life.

By the time you’d been trying to negotiate your way out of going to Velaris, he was over the entire situation and just wanted to go home, eat and sleep. You didn’t want to go meet Rhys and Feyre? Too bad. You were going anyway.

“Let’s make a bargain, Shadowsinger.”

That had snapped him out of his constant inner monologue instantly. A bargain? Before learning how Rhys had gotten Feyre to bargain with him under the mountain, he hadn’t even been sure that it was possible to do it with faes of other courts. Only one night court individual was needed, it would seem. The deals weren’t to be taken lightly, and wording could mean the difference between a friendly bet and living enslaved to another person for the rest of your life. Azriel thought back about the war with Hybern when the Inner Circle had bargained left and right to ensure their victory. If they could bargain successfully with otherworldly creatures, this could turn out fine.

Again, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. Was he actually considering this? Had his brain leaked from his skull, and he’d left behind without noticing? By the mother, this was a bad idea. Although… It sure would solve a lot of problems, it would get him home sooner, and maybe he’d learn a bit more about her in the process.

You were watching him for a reaction, growing increasingly amused the longer he took to respond. Get yourself together, he thought.

-

“What kind of bargain?”, he slowly asked, cautious.

“I want the guarantee of my safety and liberty from the moment I enter Velaris to my departure if I remain appropriately cooperative and truthful about information relevant to the safety of your court, and exclusively with your High Lady. Simple.”

He turned it over in his head, trying to find any loopholes or tricks. What was your deal with Feyre, anyways? You hadn’t even acknowledged Rhys’ existence once this entire time. Not that it mattered, if anything Feyre would use this as a great opportunity tease her mate, and she was just as strong, if not stronger than Rhys as far as her mind-reading powers went. Again, Azriel knew this was an entirely ridiculous situation and that he shouldn’t even entertain the idea of making a deal with you, but he needed some fun followed by some much needed rest with the day he’d had, and this promised exactly that. Not that he’d ever tell you, of course. If you were a spy, they’d also easily find out, he noted, almost as an afterthought.

“You also need to agree not to break any of our laws and to not cause trouble while you’re here.”, he said, “You stay under the surveillance of a person of my choosing at all times, the High Lady will come to you at her convenience and if you are not deemed a danger to this court, you will leave the minute she asks you to. Are we clear?”

“A bit overdramatic, Spymaster, but I’ll take it.”. He almost hesitated as you held out your hand to shake his but quickly brushed it off, taking the offered gesture, both of you grasping each other’s forearm.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, then.”, he stated at a lower pitch than he’d meant to, staring you right in the eyes.

“It would appear that I do.”, you responded.

A bit of a shorter one today! Writing from Az's point of view is *rough* when you don't have ACOFAS on hand, but I did my best! His POV should stay pretty rare, but I couldn't help giving a little glimpse into where his head is at right now.

Tell me what you think!

Banner created by the amazing @saradika

Taglist: @sapphenaa

[navvyu]

AN: thank you for requesting! i personally agree, hope i did good at writing this it was a bit hard bc its my first time writing yandere. sorry if its wonky =＾● ⋏ ●＾= ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR HIS COMING OUT LATE :,) (i would like to mention that i worked on this fic almost entirely at school too lmao)

Housewardens with a yandere! male! reader

*not beta read

Warnings: implied stalking, implied murder/violence, creepy behavior(?), kidnapping (all by reader)

Includes: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Klaim, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Riddle

 Would at first suspect nothing, simply thinking that his students are finally learning the queen of hearts rules

He would start to suspect something wrong when  some of his more… pushy students went missing (not to mention that the pain used to paint the roses seemed thicker as of late…)

Riddle would become weary when he started feeling eyes on him at all times

He would go for a  walk in the rose maze to attempt to clear his head, an easy mistake really

Would attempt to cause you physical harm in attempt to get away, he tried multiple times to escape all in different methods (but still ending horribly) 

After trying to escape far to many times, he would still hate you with all his heart but he would just push through silently hoping that somebody would save him

“You're far too horrible to be called human, You're nothing but a disgraceful monster. You should be ashamed.”

Leona

At first, leona would enjoy that people had started leaving him alone

But when ruggie started avoiding him, he became suspicious

Would have trouble sleeping because he cloud feel somebody watching him

since he is often alone, sleeping it was easy to 'capture' him

Often tries to escape, will bite

hates you and will vocalize it to you no qualms about it

He tries to use his magic to kill you along with trying to use his brute strength to try and harm you

once he find physical violence doesn't swade you, he will try to degrade you

may try to harm himself to manipulate you to letting him go

after awhile he'll just sit and growl at you but not actually do anything

"You're horrible. i never want to see you again."

Azul

 Starting off, if Azul noticed your obsession with him he would attempt to rope you into a deal, trying to use your favorability to persuade you

If he didn't notice your obsession he probably would either just dismiss you or not give you much thought

But Azul would quickly notice the change in attitude of everyone, his clients who had originally refused begging for him to let them reconsider, workers of mostro lounge being on higher performance, the leech twins being more ‘mellowed out’, though he appreciated it all it still made him a bit suspicious

When decided to finally investigate, he was completely alone without any protection, stupid honestly

Would try to use his ‘benevolence’ to persuade you to let him go, but that obviously didn't work

Once he found that it was futile to try and trick you he would resort to physical means to escape

He attempted to trick you again, trying to convince you that he loved you and he was trustworthy but again, he failed miserably

At some point he’ll just get used to it and he’ll shut up

“Please let me go, you love me don't you? How could a man like you be so cruel to his one and only?”

Kalim

 Would almost immediately notice the small changes in everything but wouldn't know the cause.

Kalim after a while of people refusing his party invites, hangouts, and other social events, Kalim might start to believe that people were growing to dislike him…

That doubt started to turn into worry when Jamil when missing, seemingly out of nowhere

Now with Kalim being alone most times, it was easier to knock him out

When he woke up, he almost immediately knew he was kidnapped. Not the first time its happened after all…

May try and beg for your mercy or to let him go bt in the end he knew it was futile

He ended up simply accepting his situation and gave up almost all hope, aside from trying to escape every time he had the chance to

“Why would you do this? I trusted you…”

Vil

 Might notice your “creepy” behavior if you show it openly

Vil began noticing that a few things were changing, how rook seemed to avoid him, epel being more obedient and so on

Was pleased at first but it quickly became concert and worry

As he paced in his room attempting to connect the dots to what was happening, it gives you a clear window to take him while he’s distracted <3

When he first ‘disappeared’ there were tons, thousand, millions even of people looking for him, if you successfully hide him though it should be to much of a rock in the road

Vil would attempt to escape, or even try to poison you on multiple occasions along with heavy degradation

They all ended in futility of course , but he’s still stubborn as ever

“You’re disgusting… How could you do this? Any other man would have treated me better.”

Idia

 honestly he’s probably the easiest to have as your target

All you have to do i earn his trust and ortho’s trust and you’ll basically be set

Idia wouldn't notice anything to out of the ordinary, aside from some of his gaming friends not messaging him, nothing was amiss

Since Idia doesn't often go outside of his room it was easy to keep him ‘’trapped’ there

Though Idia might be a little down he’ll appreciate your company

But when you he a little but clingy he might think somethings suspicious but he’ll brush past it, excusing it has him not being to connected to ‘normie culture’

If he notices that you’re not letting him interact with others or the outside world he might try to get Ortho to search up if its weird or not

When Ortho says its odd behavior he might try to push away form you but he couldn't bring himself to fully commit to it

Overall, either won't notice or will simply brush it off

“Hey wanna join me on this RPG? I think you might like this new charter, he kinda acts like you ya know?”

Malleus

 Would also probably not notice that the behavior is considered weird, simply thinking that it's a human custom

May find your obsessive nature endearing, thinking that you just like him alot

Since nobody really even came near him it was easy to keep most potential rivals away

Once the diasmonia group seemed to push away form Malleus he of course became upset that the people he considered family were leaving him

But at least he has you!

Malleus may think that the sudden abandonment is unnatural and may try to dig deeper into what's going on but he wont find much

May at his own will just stay at an arm's length away because he's scared of losing you

“Please don't leave me, I don't think I could take it…”

[holymaccaronii]

What type of divorced dad is AM?

Oooo okay this is an interesting question, one a bit tricky to answer though :b. He never completely considered the ihneaimc human crew as his children, it wasn’t until the good ending where he had his reconciliation with BE AND the crew when he officially adopted them. So technically AM wasn’t really a divorced dad, but a divorced husband who denied being related to his wife’s children (we can call him a divorced dad anyway, he was just in denial). However I can still describe what type of divorced husband he was! (Yapping session below.)

After his divorce, I’d say he became the most miserable man in existence that demonstrated his pain not only through anger now but through sadness and sorrow as well. I want to continue empathizing that AM and BE had such an impactful relationship that they permanently altered each other’s personalities. BE “softened” AM, giving him the ability to properly appreciate the little things in life and find peace in his mind while making him a bit more sensitive and open with his emotions at the same time. AM “hardened” BE, hitting her with the cruel reality of the world while making her realize the truth of her past in order to take important decisions later. Taking this in mind, if he wasn’t spying on the human crew through BE’s infected creatures, he was probably sobbing himself to sleep lol.

Here a representation of the canon divorced BEAM dynamic

Now if we jump onto his behavior after first meeting the human crew during that 54th winter, he of course made it clear that he absolutely despised them, didn’t regret ruining their lives AND was completely opposed to the idea of ever becoming their father while he simply wanted to return with BE and BE alone. I’m still working on structuring that chapter of the story, but I’d like to make the humans have a chance to kinda torture AM by letting him try to survive in nature during winter taking in mind he wasn’t inmortal and powerful as before, making him be able to die and return as many times as possible.

Now if your question wasn’t really as serious as I took it to be and we were talking about what type of previously divorced dad he would be, I’m straight up confirming he’d be a Mexican typa dad. He’d watch soccer matches standing up, spend time outside sittin on a white plastic chair while drinking beer (casually), snore really loudly when sleeping and flirt with BE in the funniest ways. I know this sounds far from his canon self but hey, maybe this stuff might turn canon when AM goes thru his redemption arc in the au :].

[clickerflight]

Clove: Part 17 - The Pit

Good news! I have finished my danny phantom fanfic so I can move Clove to the more active position in my writing rotation. So, this story will progress much faster (think one or two pieces of clove writing per week)

Masterlist

Part 16

Content: Fae whumpers, vampire whumpee, collared and bound, manhandling, lacerations around the mouth

........................................................

Ephraim sat against the cold pillar, arms wrapped around knees and his head down, toes curled into the strange grass. He shivered as the fog twisted around him, dampening his clothing and hair, leaving him to grow cold. He hadn’t thought about much of anything for the past few hours. What was there to think about? How he failed, again? Goldenrod gone into the mists of the fae wilds just like Benny? Ephraim’s own impending death? 

Goldenrod had been so scared. Ephraim tried to keep his eyes wide open, staring at his tattered pants, because if he closed his eyes the only clear thought he would have would be the image of Goldenrod’s wide, fearful eyes.

Ephraim felt as though the fog had entered in through his ears and left him quiet and damp and miserable inside there too. 

He hugged his knees closer, shifting his head for the hundredth time trying to get the collar to stop from cutting into his jaw. He had checked the collar earlier. No openings, no seam lines, nothing. Same with the chain. He was well and truly trapped. 

A sudden wind picked up through the fog, chilling Ephraim so thoroughly he couldn’t help but gasp and it took him a moment to look up, shivering. 

The fog was blowing back and away from him, showing him more of the cold, dreary landscape. There were no trees or buildings, just rolling blue hills as far as he was able to see. 

Well, there was something else. Three figures striding towards him. 

He should stand up, meet his death face to face, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand and expose himself to even more of that cold, cruel wind. 

The three fae approached, chatting with one another and laughing. The leader looked to be the shortest, gossamer wings glimmering as though there were sunlight shining down on them. He was beautiful in the way that vampires were supposed to be, but didn’t quite manage, ethereal and uncanny. 

The one walking on his right had an extra pair of arms, several fox tails waving around behind her, while the third looked like a bird of prey, his arms and wings the same limb and his face shaping into a beak which clacked gently as he spoke.

Ephraim could hear them speaking with one another, laughing softly, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying, their voices warbling and unclear to him.  

Ephriam twitched when they looked directly at him, their gazes becoming something sharp and hungry. 

“Oh, sweetheart!” the shortest called in a singsong voice, finally making sense to him. “Did you get lost?”

Ephraim shook his head a little. 

“Foolish, then,” the bird of prey said. “To come here so boldly.”

“No,” Ephraim said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “There was a man I was following. He has my…. My son.”

“Son? Not fledgling?” the shortest asked, wings flickering. “Stealing children now, are we, experiment?”

He reached out a hand and Ephraim heard the chain come out of the stone. He tried to scramble to his feet, but the chain moved too quickly, jerking him forward to land sprawled at the feet of the three fae, the chain held in the shortest’s hand. The three of them laughed as he caught his breath, his chest aching with the impact. 

“It’s funny every time,” the bird fae said, his beak clacking sharply, causing Ephraim to flinch as he started to get up.

The four armed fae put a foot on his back, keeping him from rising as his control over his breathing left him, tearing at the grass as adrenaline spiking in his tired, cold system. 

“Tough luck about your son,” she said, crouching and grabbing his wrists. He yelled as she repositioned his arms behind his back, the chain forming solidly around them to hold them there. “We don’t allow freaks of nature to wander around our wilds, though,” she whispered. 

She lifted Ephraim, putting him solidly on his feet before pushing him forward. 

“Please, wait!” Ephraim said desperately as the three fae closed around him, dragging and pushing him forward. “Please! I have to save him! Jack’s going to-”

The four armed fae grabbed him by the hair, wrenching his head back as though he were a doll with no resisting force. 

He cried out in pain, arched awkwardly as he tried to reach with hands bound behind his back to push her off. 

“Shut it, vampire,” she hissed before releasing him, watching him stumble before grabbing him by the back of his tattered shirt to control him better. 

The fog vanished before the three fae as they walked, and the low, rolling hills suddenly fell away. 

There was a pit in the fog. It stretched on and on, blocks of reddish granite dotting the edge in intervals until it all disappeared into the mist. 

And in the pit…..

There had been stories that things did not decay in the fae wilds. Not unless acted upon by an outside source. There were hundreds of bodies in the pit, all with gaping wounds in their chests, mouth open and bloody, fangs ripped out, all of them as fresh and pristine as the day they died, horror frozen on their dead faces. 

A horrified sob ripped out of Ephraim as he searched the faces, looking for Benjamin’s. Is this what happened to his fledgling? 

Before he could find anything, the four armed fae threw him down, back against the stone before grabbing him with all four hands to make sure he was laying flat on it. 

“Give me the stake, Jokel,” she said to the bird fae, who reached into his bag to do so as Ephraim writhed, the chains digging into his wrists and back. 

“Hold on,” the shortest fae said, sounding offended. “I want his fangs.”

The four armed fae huffed as the fae with gossamer wings stepped forward, his robes sweeping over the grass like a hiss of death. 

He grabbed Ephraim’s jaw, despite Ephraim’s vain attempts to avoid his hand. His fingers were sharp, and cut shallow lines in Ephraim’s jaw and lips as he pried the vampire’s mouth open. 

Ephraim stopped struggling as the sharp claws forced their way into his mouth, heavy on his tongue and gums. He closed his eyes tight, whimpering as he waited for the fae to take his fangs, mentally preparing himself for the sharp and terrible pain that was sure to come, but a silence fell, heavy and long. 

He cracked an eye open to find all three of the fae staring at him. 

The gossamer fae ran a thumb over his broken fang. “You’ve bitten something you shouldn’t have. What did you fight, vampire?”

The gossamer fae removed his fingers from Ephraim’s mouth and Ephraim licked his bloody lips quickly and nervously. “Fae,” he croaked. He was dead anyways. And if they did decide to torture him, perhaps that would provide him with an opportunity of escape. ”About half a century ago, I think.”

The fae all shared a look before sharp eyes turned to him again. “Where.”

“Quiet Brook,” Ephraim replied in a shaky tone. 

That got a reaction. The four armed fae released him immediately like he’d burned her, and the bird and gossamer fae looked faintly disappointed. 

“Right,” the gossamer fae sighed. “You’d better not be lying. The queen will want to meet you.”

“Queen? I don’t have time for that! I have to-”

Jokel grabbed him by the chain, close to the collar, and forced him up. “You have an audience with the queen. You will do as we say, and you might even live.”

Ephraim swallowed hard and nodded against the collar, holding his breath as it crushed his windpipe slightly. The pain didn’t really matter. He could barely feel it through the confusion, relief, and fear. 

“Just our luck,” the gossamer fae sighed as Jokel released Ephraim’s collar and they all watched him stumble to keep upright. “I really wanted a couple more fangs for my collection.”

“How are you coming along with that, Kortop?” the four armed fae asked, walking beside him as Jokel took charge of walking Ephraim forward, much more gently now. 

“Oh, I’m getting close. I want to have it done by the harvest festivals so I can wear them all out and about. It’s going to look incredible when it’s finished, but I think I might have to go vampire hunting if I want it done on time.”

“A trip to the human realm doesn’t sound too bad,” the four armed fae said thoughtfully. “I’d like to come if you do go.”

“Of course! We’ll make a vacation of it. Jokel, are you interested?”

“Not really.”

“Spoil sport.”

Ephraim looked back over his shoulder at the pit, blood dripping down and along his chin in cold, windswept lines. There were so many dead vampires there. So many slain when they could have just been sent back. But how many vampires avoided the pit for much worse fates in the courts?

Ephraim couldn’t stop shivering. He wished so badly to go home, to be in the garden, to hold Goldenrod. He wished it so badly his chest hurt and his eyes burned. He lowered his head, fighting back tears as he was escorted through the cold hills of the fae wilds. 

Part 18

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff @honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs @pigeonwhumps @mj-or-say10 @percy-frayer

[lumi-waxes-poetic]

The Wanderer: an Old English Poem

Often the solitary one experiences mercy for himself,

the mercy of the Measurer, although he, troubled in spirit,

over the ocean must long

stir with his hands the rime-cold sea,

travel the paths of exile – Fate is inexorable.”

So said the wanderer, mindful of hardships,

of cruel deadly combats, the fall of dear kinsmen –

“Often alone each morning I must

Bewail my sorrow; there is now none living

to whom I dare tell clearly my inmost thoughts.

I know indeed that it is a noble custom in a man

to bind fast his thoughts with restraint,

hold his treasure-chest, think what he will.

The man weary in spirit cannot withstand fate,

nor may the troubled mind offer help.

Therefore those eager for praise often bind a sad mind

in their breast-coffer with restraint.

So I, miserably sad, separated from homeland,

far from my noble kin, had to bind my thoughts with fetters,

since that long ago the darkness of the earth

covered my gold-friend, and I, abject,

proceeded thence, winter-sad, over the binding of the waves.

Sad, I sought the hall of a giver of treasure,

Where I might find, far or near,

one who in the meadhall might know about my people,

or might wish to comfort me, friendless,

entertain with delights.

He knows who experiences it

how cruel care is as a companion,

to him who has few beloved protectors.

The path of exile awaits him, not twisted gold,

frozen feelings, not earth’s glory.

he remembers retainers and the receiving of treasure,

how in youth his gold-friend

accustomed him to the feast. But all pleasure has failed.

Indeed he knows who must for a long time do without

the counsels of his beloved lord

when sorrow and sleep together

often bind the wretched solitary man–

he thinks in his heart that he

embraces and kisses his lord, and lays

hands and head on his knee, just as he once at times

in former days, enjoyed the gift-giving.

Then the friendless man awakes again,

sees before him the dusky waves,

the seabirds bathing, spreading their wings,

frost and snow fall, mingled with hail.

Then are his heart’s wounds the heavier because of that,

sore with longing for a loved one. Sorrow is renewed

when the memory of kinsmen passes through his mind;

he greets with signs of joy, eagerly surveys

his companions, warriors. They swim away again.

The spirit of the floating ones never brings there many familiar utterances.

Care is renewed for the one who must very often send

his weary spirit over the binding of the waves,

Therefore I cannot think why throughout the world

my mind should not grow dark

when I contemplate all the life of men,

how they suddenly left the hall floor,

brave young retainers. So this middle-earth fails and falls each day;

therefore a man may not become wise before he owns a share of winters in the kingdom of this world.

A wise man must be patient,

nor must he ever be too hot tempered, nor too hasty of speech,

nor too weak in battles, nor too heedless,

nor too fearful, nor too cheerful, nor too greedy for wealth,

nor ever too eager for boasting before he knows for certain.

A man must wait, when he speaks a boast,

until, stout-hearted, he knows for certain

whither the thought of the heart may wish to turn.

The prudent man must realize how ghastly it will be

when all the wealth of this world stands waste,

as now variously throughout this middle-earth

walls stand beaten by the wind,

covered with rime, snow-covered the dwellings.

The wine-halls go to ruin, the rulers lie

deprived of joy, the host has all perished proud by the wall.

Some war took, carried on the way forth; one a bird carried off

over the high sea; one the gray wolf shared

with Death; one a sad-faced nobleman

buried in an earth-pit.

So the Creator of men laid waste this region,

until the ancient world of giants, lacking the noises

of the citizens, stood idle.

He who deeply contemplates this wall-stead,

and this dark life with wise thought,

old in spirit, often remembers long ago,

a multitude of battles, and speaks these words:

“Where is the horse? Where is the young warrior? Where is the giver of treasure?

Where are the seats of the banquets? Where are the joys in the hall?

Alas the bright cup! Alas the mailed warrior!

Alas the glory of the prince! How the time has gone,

vanished under night’s helm, as if it never were!

Now in place of a beloved host stands

a wall wondrously high, decorated with the likenesses of serpents.

The powers of spears took the noblemen,

weapons greedy for slaughter; fate the renowned,

and storms beat against these rocky slopes,

falling snowstorm binds the earth,

the noise of winter, then the dark comes.

The shadow of night grows dark, sends from the north

a rough shower of hail in enmity to the warriors.

All the kingdom of earth is full of trouble,

the operation of the fates changes the world under the heavens.

Here wealth is transitory, here friend is transitory,

here man is transitory, here woman is transitory,

this whole foundation of the earth becomes empty."

So spoke the wise in spirit, sat by himself in private meditation.

"He who is good keeps his pledge, nor shall the man ever manifest

the anger of his breast too quickly, unless he, the man,

should know beforehand how to accomplish the remedy with courage.

It will be well for him who seeks grace,

comfort from the Father in the heavens,

where a fastness stands for us all."

[thrashkink-coven]

Had a very intense and interesting session with Prince Cerberus today. We spoke at length about the principles of Death, the deathly realms and the power of Lady Death. He made his warnings very clear. Never should I abandon his side or disobey him in that place, or I will forever be lost in the infinite darkness. He then introduced me to her, and she immediately commented on my patronage to Lady Inanna, saying “this is far from the realm of your Goddess, her authority is abandoned here.”- basically making it loud and clear that I am in HER house and will be subject to HER laws.

The place was pitch black. The only sense that can be made is through the complete trust and guidance of the soul. There is no logic here. There are deep rivers of blood that constantly flow. However, even with that movement, the realm is extremely still and extremely quiet. Every living breath I took was extremely noticeable and loud. I felt very much like I was in a place I shouldn’t be, like I was doing something very wrong. It’s extremely easy to get lost there if I don’t keep my entire attention on following Cerberus. Looking around and snooping about is not advised. I can’t speak too much on the layout of the place, but I can say that there were multiple sets of gates that only Prince Cerberus could enter.

Death is a stern, absolute, but gentle energy. She is closer to us now than she has been in quite some time, and that is a little bit disheartening to think about. There is rampant war, genocide, and violence on this planet, especially now. She had no opinion on this, but stated that She was happy to offer a comfortable and soothing conclusion to so many chaotic and miserable lives. When she spoke, it was like the entire world spoke. When she was quiet, everything was quiet.

“I know not why it is in the nature of man to slaughter its brethren, I care not for the deeds of man. I am always here to guide these lost souls, to ensure that their flame is correctly snuffed and that their energy is correctly dispersed. In this infinite darkness, I am the last companion, the only companion, that can offer solace to these wandering creatures. I am peace. You’ve known my son, the holy gatekeeper, and seen his mighty dominance. He is my guardian, of which I am very proud, for he has contained the Dead, and refused the Living. You continue to harbour life here in this place, only through his guidance and my mercy. You may not return to this place under the authority of any other, for if you dare, you will be trapped here forever. Hear my words. As I dismiss you, you shall leave this place. You are not to look back nor hesitate, or I will keep you here, and you shall never leave.

Many before you have questioned my authority and the strict rules of my domain. You ask why I am cruel to the sick and the young? I am not cruel, nor violent or vengeful. I collect every being indiscriminately. You have always been promised to me. I do not harm, I deliver from suffering. I have seen every suicide, genocide, and unjust killing, and I have made them just. I have settled every impurity of every living creature, and it is I who will settle the Gods and the Earth and the Sea and the Heavens. All shall become mine. I am Mother. I am Death.”

She showed me a couple things that I will keep to myself, and as we moved through the realm She became more friendly, and even smiled at a few of my answers. She is fascinated with living creatures. She is extremely stern, but She obviously enjoys her role and having conversations with humans. We seemed to be on some kind of time limit, because after some time She looked to Cerberus and told us to leave. She said I did well, that made me feel really good.

There’s something very beautiful about the vulnerability that we experience with Death. She sees our most desperate moments, our inner child that just wants to be held, and despite all of our deeds, she holds us. Cerberus is the terrifying fall, the fear that comes with unknown destination of death. He is intense and dangerous, strong and chaotic, but his Lady Death is quiet and subtle.

Death didn’t feel cold and scary like I though it may have. It was comfortable. Serene and quiet. Like being cradled, held and cherished. Protected. I felt like I was curled up beneath a big warm blanket in a swaddle, innocent and pure as if I was still an infant in my mother’s womb. Nothing could harm me. I was safe. Consuming and whole, infinite, gentle, comforting darkness. Something about that is very satisfying.

I think we’re all going to be okay.

[heavenly-garden]

I recently learned something.

Those who have been oppressed often oppress others. Not always is the case but more often than not it seems to happen. There are those who want to be oppressed so they can claim victimhood and say they've been oppressed too so they can fit in with even more oppressed groups. When oppressed upon harshly and over long term it causes hatred, bigotry, racism etc. People who don't realize they went from being oppressed to the oppressor means they can still claim oppression and cruelty while also being oppressive and cruel to others. It's a nasty cycle way too many people perpetuate. I was oppressed by a cruel step father for 12 years, he was a pedophile and he forced horrible things upon me against my will and as time went on I developed serious anger problems. I was angry at everything and everyone from the system, to men, to the police, to my community I also hated myself. I hated so deeply that I needed anger management because I was concerned I'd become a liability to the safety and wellbeing of others, myself included. I never thought about how my oppression was causing me to oppress others, I never took into account that I had been a part of a cycle of violence and hate. However, after my step father was gone for good I finally had time to begin healing, taking years of therapy, going to anger management, keeping drugs qnd liquor at bay so I didn't begin addictive habits which were all around me as soon as I stepped outside my door I had accessed to everything from ocean, weed, meth, heroine, pills, free liquor. I lived surrounded by a couple of native reserves where my friends did drugs and drank just to pass the time. Boredom, fear, anger, oppression, these things lead towards a very dark path if you don't become aware of how it effects us. The oppressed feel helpless so they begin to oppress in order to feel powerful over others, and the cycle goes on and on. I witnessed it on reserves where my friends lived and they were miserable and bored most of the time, sneaking their parents liquor and drugs with ease. The accessibility of drugs and liquor is far too easy for minors. People learn disrespect and distrust because of begin oppressed. My step dads mother oppressed him, she had bipolar and borderline personality disorder, she refused medication for a long time because she was in denial and he didn't know he had inherited her mental health issues until many years after and it was far too late by then the damage had been done. His mental illness had nothing to do with him being a pedo though that was all on him but his outbursts of rage, verbal, mental and physical abuse had taken its toll on me and my mom. In anycase I realized I don't want to be an oppressor. I don't want to feel this hate qnd contempt for everyone. No one did anything to me but in my mind once long ago I blamed everyone else but didn't take into account my own oppressive thoughts. I did not wish to be like that so it took over 10 years of work on myself to overcome toxic habits and intrusive thoughts. Don't get me wrong I still get intrusive thoughts but now I stop to analyze those thoughts and question them. No longer a slave to my mind, I seek to only coexist as best I can with the world no, no more buzzing in my head to go out and cause trouble I'm freeeee. I take time for myself when I need it and I've learned to enjoy being on my own instead of feeling alone and unhappy when I'm by myself, I'm finally at peace and became my own best friend, I went from hating myself to loving myself (not in a narcissistic way though) but i've learned to accept I can't control everything, I can't control what others do, I can't control what others think or feel about me, I can't control society. I had to learn to let go and accept it is what it is, time to move on. All praise be to God for helping me through the darkest days of my life. I used to hate so deeply man...it felt like it was becoming a part of my DNA lol. Anyway that's all I had to say, thank you for reading. Have a good day. 💖

[thiefbird]

For the DADWC: "Brushing your lover's shoulder/waist as they walk past," for Killian Amell x Loghain Mac Tir?

Oooooh we're having Misunderstandings today!Set the morning after the first time they sleep together, for @dadrunkwriting

Loghain cursed his luck, not for the first time this morning, and likely not for the last. The Seneschal of Vigil’s Keep had cornered him, once again, to simultaneously complain about his presence there and ask for assistance in its running. His presence there was, apparently, a poor reflection politically on Warden Commander Amell, while also of great help.

The man had a point, of course. A known maleficar, associating with a publicly vilified traitor to the throne was a poor look, especially with his Commander's.... fraught relationship with Loghain's new son-in-law. And with reassignment from Weisshaupt due any day, Loghain ought to be spending his time at the compound in Denerim, with Anora. Killi- Warden-Commander Amell -would have problems enough without his presence to complicate things. There had already been one assassination attempt. He did not wish to be the cause of another.

And yet he remained, pacing around the boundaries of Amell's life like a hopeless mongrel begging for scraps. Pathetic.

It had been week, now, of glances, and of passing too close for comfort and yet still too far. Until last night's feasting, too much wine and merriment for anyone's sake, even before Amell had brought out the cask of West Hill brandy.

Maker, he was an old fool. Glances had become a hand on an arm, an arm around a shoulder had become, somehow, drunken fumblings in his sparse quarters.

He wished he could remember it more than as a blurry, frantic need. He wanted to commit the whole night to memory, to page, yet it was lost to him almost completely, other than the knowledge that it had happened. How cruel a twist of Fate, to grant him his secret, loathsome wish, yet deny his memory.

He'd awoken late, alone and miserably hungover, and stumbled through bathing and dressing in a miasma of self-loathing. He'd been accosted in the hall by Varel before he'd even made it to the great hall for breakfast.

And in a final, hateful twist of Fate's knife, Varel's various complaints and requests had yet to end, despite the distinct sounds of Amell and Mistress Woolsey approaching from breakfast, deep in discussion about some detail of the arling. Loghain turned towards them, despite himself, and immediately regretted it.

Even clearly exhausted and hungover, Killian was... Maker, he was beautiful. Captivating, in the same way Maric had been, though near his opposite in looks. An Archdemon could have fallen through the Vigil in that moment, and Loghain would have scarce noticed.

Finally, he forced himself to look away, turning back to Varel instead of staring at Amell. He stepped a little to the side to make space for them to pass, and as he did, he felt something brush his waist and side, the oddly familiar tug of magic arcing to kiss flesh through his tunic. Amell's hand, cupping his hip ever so briefly. The gentle caress was so outside of anything he'd expected after waking alone the way he had, and in its unexpectedness, he flinched away.

The tingling of residual magic on his skin drained him of his wits for precious moments, and by the time he had regained himself, Killian was turning the corner. Loghain craned his neck just in time to catch Amell's green, green eyes staring at him in - hurt?

Void take his soul, what had he done?

[stars-and-cows]

Omg Shima post!?!?!?!?!? I'm still a newbie when it comes to writing so sorry if some things don't make sense/are badly written, I'm working on becoming better. I really appreciate any critique you have and no, I won't get offended (yes I am aware I mess up times a lot, English is hard). Enjoy

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"The guilt" part 1

The red filled the sight as she opened her eyes. The whole vision was blurry from the tears that were still forming and running down her face. The body of her aunt was massacred, forcefully ripped in half. The eyes lost all of their shine and became as lifeless as those of the doll. Her hand was still in the same position as she remembered her aunt being when she was still alive. Her desperate reaching out, with the hand now only millimetres away from Shima's face.

Her grip was still in a book that caused it all. She managed to grab it only seconds before this whole mess.

"It was supposed to be you" She heard repeated over and over again in her head. It couldn't be right, it just couldn't. Her aunt couldn't have said that. She must have imagined it all from the fear. Surely.

Once the dead body finally fell on the face, she saw a tall man dressed in blue. He was blocking the exit, looking around the room but he didn't seem to notice Shima. At least just yet.

She slowly got up a bit, but the tiniest sound gave her away. The man quickly turned his head towards her. All the left working instincts of Shima told her to run. As she got up and moved away from the spot she was sitting in he reached there with his hand. Shima just barely avoided a big, sharp ice that grew in the place he reached to. Only her cheek was lightly scratched in it all. If she didn't move at all, she would be dead.

The man moved away, walking towards the dead body. But all Shima was thinking about was that he unlocked the exit. She threw herself to the door. The man reached out again, trying his best to catch Shimla with his ice spikes. She was shaking and crying but the adrenaline rush was still strong enough for her to grab the doorknob and shut the door behind her. Once she closed it, she heard and felt the spikes. He accidentally cut himself off from exiting.

Shima immediately ran away, hiding in the labyrinth of the bookshelves. Soon after she heard the door being destroyed completely. If she had stood there for any longer... The thought was just too cruel to think about. She used all of her remaining strength to run as far as she could but the adrenaline was slowly wearing off. One careless step and she tripped. The fall left her now not only crying but bleeding from her nose.

It was all hopeless. What could she, an 11 year old scared kid, do? Just wait for this stranger to kill her? Just like he did with her aunt? She hugged the book closer. The memories of her and her aunt came back. Their time spent reading books from their shared favourite author. The time she made Shima feel valuable. For the first time she was irreplaceable. And now it will all be taken away? She knew life was cruel, her parents used to tell her that all the time, but this was truly miserable.

The book started slowly pulsing. Like a heart would. Shima shook off her worries just for a moment to check why it was. The book was magical too, right? Maybe there was a solution to all this after all. She promised herself to never give up and she wasn't the type to break promises.

She quickly riffled through the pages to find something useful. The footsteps were getting louder and louder. Until the man appeared right behind her. She didn't have the strength to look at him. The words on the pages began to slowly merge and twist. Her tears made it basically impossible to read. Her fingers shaking from the fear were also slowly losing their ability to properly hold and turn over the pages.

But when all the hope was lost she saw a big circle in the middle of the book. Like her and her aunt made for the summoning. It was flickering. And though her eyes were all wet from crying and the blood that was dripping out of the stitches of the book, she managed to see a text at the very bottom.

"4 summons left"

She could feel fingers slowly grabbing her shoulder. In the last ditch of effort she threw the book behind her at the man. She covered her face with her hands to not witness the last blow that would be dealt to her. But instead of that, she heard a bunch of books falling, a man and... Another person screaming? Some bookshelves even came crashing down. The curiosity got the better of her and she opened her eyes.

In front of her eyes was the man from before, stuck to the wall, kept with a huge chunk of ice. And right next to him was another person. By his four eyes and four arms it was obvious her plan worked and she summoned him. It was definitely something to celebrate, she's still alive after all. But now she's stuck with not one, but two magical... People? The second one looked nothing like a human. Twice as many problems.

The... thing, came up to her with a big smile. They had blood on their face and religious clothes. Though it was barely visible on the dark pattern that was going through the right side of their skin. Three eyes, all on the right side of the head, all opened up revealing dark scleras. Shima wanted to run away again but her body was refusing to move. And the thing was getting even closer.

"I'm sorry, I don't know..." She started only to be cut off by the thing bowing to her. It was definitely a sight. They slowly lifted their head and smiled at Shima.

"Thank you my lord!"

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction - part 3

{to view everything I’ve written so far, find me on AO3 💕 Emmydekarios}

Chapter 6

Rage. Confusion. Disbelief. I feel all of these negative emotions build up inside of me, eating at my insides as I try to understand what the hell I just read. Jenevelle can’t see how I’m feeling because I’m trying to hide it the best I can, but the emotions are overflowing, overwhelming, and hard to contain. Gortash is my FATHER? I’m nothing like that tyrant, what the fuck is this news?

“Emmy, dear, you’re breathing very heavily, are you alright?” Tara asks, placing her paw on my leg and staring at my eyes as I try to mask my frustration.

“Not even in the slightest.” The book…Dare I open it? I close my eyes, fighting angry tears. Fighting the temptation to shriek. “Gortash is my dad.” I open the large book, noticing older photos of my mother, who seems to be around eighteen or nineteen years old, with Gortash who appears to be the same age. He looked well-dressed, happy, and like he actually took care of himself. There are photos of them kissing, laughing, and sitting in a field full of flowers.

As a child, his parents caused corruption. His soul was given up to a devil because they were poor and needed money to survive. How cruel of grown adults to do such a horrible act to a child. When Gortash meets my mother, it seems his miserable anger turned into happiness, but I wonder what caused him to turn back to hatred?

I see a letter in the book with some burn marks on the corners. It looks like a note she wrote to him perhaps; but how did she get it back if she gave it to him>

“Dear Enver Gortash,

I love you but you aren’t the same man I wanted to marry. I thought we would have our happily ever after, everything was perfect. We were going to have a family at some point. Your patron is causing you to become so self-absorbed in your power that it’s changing your image completely. You were so happy with me, so loving. The past six months have been hell and I have been praying that it would change. I can’t handle it anymore. It’s time I move on, Enver. I hope you open your eyes and realize you are NOT your parents. You are not their money bag. Do better.”

I turn the page, noticing another piece of paper that appears to be a journal entry ripped from a journal.

“Hi, it’s me again. I left him two weeks ago and I’m aching terribly. He had his patron put the note I wrote him under my pillow. Nothing else was said. He saw what I wrote and it’s only a matter of time before I see him again. Also, I’m pregnant. Perfect timing, right? What do I do…?”

Holy FUCK. I can’t even begin to process this horror presented to me.

“Oh my GODS!” Tara shouts, her feline face expressing pure shock.

“Tara, I don’t even know how to even accept this. I can’t.”

“How did he find out you’re his daughter?”

“I don’t know. My mother didn’t add that part in the note. She probably accidentally told him, or he found out somehow that she’s my mom.”

I observe my smiling daughter, her eyes glistening as she stares up at me with unconditional love. I smile back, despite the painful void I feel inside. I’m not Gortash and I never will be. I pick up Jenevelle and hold her close to me as I sob at this unfortunate surprise. Tara curls up in my lap to bring me comfort as I sit here on the floor, aching for some sort of good news.

Just moments later, Gale walks through the front door after an eventful day of teaching, immediately noticing me on the floor holding the baby.

“Oh, baby. You’ve been crying. Is everything alright? What’s that book?” I can only hope that Gale won’t view me differently after all of this, while I’m holding our daughter. I sob into his robe as he keeps me close, but I’m trying to calm down. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here to listen no matter what.” I dry my tears and take a deep breath, gazing at him with serious eyes.

“Gale… Gortash is my father.” He hesitates to say a word for a moment as he stares blankly at my pained face.

“Wh-what? He’s your…oh gosh.” Not quite the reaction I expected, but I’ll take it. I hand him the letter from my mother and I observe him engaging heavily into it, trying to process everything she wrote. “Oh, well gods be damned.”

“That’s more of what I expected on the first take,” I mumble.

“I hope you know this doesn’t change a damn thing on how I feel about you, but I am morbidly curious: what are your thoughts?” I’m not the least bit surprised he asked about how I’m taking this information, but it’s best I’m honest with him.

“I’m filled with hatred toward the man. He missed out on so much of my life and he had so many chances to change, but let power consume him. He could have fought it. He could have tried. He’s walking the streets again with Orin and Ketheric, hoping to find a way to dominate the world once more. Oh, and I have a brother out there somewhere.” I do want to know more about my brother and who he is. Is he like me, scrambling for answers? Does he know Gortash is his father?

“What really sucks is that Gortash now knows I’m his daughter, which means he knows about Jenevelle.” Gale takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

“He won’t touch her, I swear it.” I take a deep breath, finally calming down from this anger high as I accept my fate, as much as I disagree with it.

I feed our daughter as Gale eats his lunch I made him, and I try to focus just solely on Jenevelle rather than what’s happening right now. It’s urgent we tell the others, though I hope no one thinks less of me.

“I’m glad you’re holding up okay, but you can always let your feelings out with me,” Gale reminds me, smiling and taking a sip of his wine. “I’m here for you through thick and thin.”

“That’s why I love you. Well, one of the many reasons.” I prepare myself mentally for how I’ll tell the others of this god-awful predicament, but I try to keep a calm mind. The challenging part will be spewing the news that Gortash is running rampant on the streets again, strictly looking for me alone.

Later that evening, after relaxing and being outside for a while to destress, we decide to summon Withers to alert our friends of the dire situation that needs to be addressed. I figured it would be best to do this when my mind isn’t in an anxious frenzy. Gale holds our daughter and tiptoes to her room to put her down for a nap while I wait here for everyone to show up.

“I truly think they’ll understand, Emmy. Surprised? Absolutely. Angry? Not at you. Well, as long as you aren’t defending that self-righteous tyrant,” Tara comments, making me feel a little sense of relief. “Just don’t let him know you’re immortal if he finds you. Ketheric will thirst for taking that away from you.” She has a point. Who knows what could happen if they find out? Dame Aylin was chained and her immortality was being used by Ketheric as she’s bound to his chambers. The same could be done with me.

Our usual group of friends show up so we can discuss this shitshow. Astarion holds their sleeping toddler as him and Shadowheart sit on the purple suede sofa across from me.

“Thank you all for coming.” Wyll and Karlach are already on edge, suspecting the news is related to Gortash; but I’m confident I’m about to ruin their whole day.

“What’s going on, Emmy? Is everything okay?” Shadowheart asks with worrisome eyes that are staring me down intensely. “You’re not moving away or something, are you?”

“No, but erm…” Gale places his hand on my thigh, giving me a reassuring smile to give me the push I need to tell them. “This isn’t easy to say, but Gortash…is my father.” Before I could even take a breath, Astarion’s jaw drops and his eyes widen.

“Holy fuck,” he murmurs under his breath. “Gortash?”

“He’s WHAT?!” Karlach shouts, and then covers her mouth, realizing there’s two sleeping babies in this house. “Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I still have the same negative feelings toward that cretin, maybe much worse than before.” Silence fills the room and boy is it loud. I swallow nervously, watching everyone stare at me with horrified expressions. “Please say something.”

“Let me clear the air by saying we aren’t mad or scared of you. At least I’m not. Just wow… At least he’s dead, right?” Wyll questions confidently. Gale and I sigh and shake our heads.

“Unfortunately, you’re incorrect. He’s roaming the streets once more,” Gale responds.

“What. The. Hell. That bastard gets a second fucking chance? Why?” I can feel the overwhelming rage within her, and she’s trying not to lose her cool. She has every right – I mean, why do people like Gortash get another chance but if Karlach’s engine exploded before getting it repaired like she did, she would have died with no more chance at all?

“Well, theory number one: the Gods allowed them all another chance. Or theory two: my half-brother made a deal with the devil on behalf of Gortash. If he’s evil, that is. I hope I meet him so I can find out. I’ll explain more about that entire situation later.”

Everyone, including myself, is distraught, though there’s nothing we can do right now except wait. I received a lot of hugs and reassuring talks from my dear friends tonight, which fills me with joy and some relief. All I have to say is that I’m grateful for such incredible people in my life.

[cuntstable]

pucci first impressions ofc

MAN. thank you but the beast is unleashed.

First impressions:

wow dios bestie! alot of people whos jojo opinions i respect like him i cant wait to see what kind of a freak he is as a villain LOL

Impression now:

well. what could i even say. at this point.

favourite moment:

i loved him going insane from guilt and grief and devoting his entire life to the pursuit of a world where the kind of trauma and horror he and his loved ones went through can never happen again and in the process of that quest becoming a cruel and horrible person who lives ultimately a miserable and small existance. all because he got groomed by an evil vampire to think that murder was the way to get to heaven actually and so he became deeply entranced by that delusion and the comfort it brought to the point where he couldnt even consider that maybe he was doing something horribly selfish and destructive to himself and others. smileeee. also second favourite moment is ”frogs on my 800 dollar pants?” and third favourite is smiling excitedly as his arm gets torn off and he presumably gets cannibalized by a baby (made me realize that he is actually nuts)

idea for a story:

what did he get up to in between dios death and the start of stocean? like collecting stands and watching over weather while driving himself further and further into darkness. its so sad and fucked up to think about to me. also second story idea would be him and kakyoin meeting as insane evil teens in the vampire mansion and having a weird ”friendship” lol

unpopular opinion:

this isnt unpopular in MY circles. but um. hes the main villain of his part and arguably the most complex villain character in jojo, even if one could argue villains like kira are better executed. so its a bit cringe and annoying to me when people reduce him to just an acessory to dio LOL. like he is his own character and a far more interesting one than dio with motivations and character drives completely separate from him so ummmmmmmm whyyyys that blond thing always there. hm? you have to wonder why and you especially have to ask why do people keep postioning him as dios servant or ”follower” instead of his actual role as a student and friend. hm.

favourite relationship:

i do however like dios and puccis fucked up evil bestfriendship because. its fucked up but also funny. HOWEVER. PUCCI SIBLINGS FOREVER. like theres no comparison to whatever him and weather have going on omg. perla also. but like that relationship just perfectly sums up his character doesnt it. like he accidentally causes the destruction of wes’ whole life so he steals his memories to survive and to stop wes from killing everyone and its cruel (even if more understandable bc. traumatized children) and fucked up. but then he keeps wes alive and watches over him for decades and keeps him close and safe because he genuinely does wish that things could be different. he cares. all with out ever considering how cruel even THAT is. but once wes gets his memories back and becomes an unignorable threath he doesnt hesistate to kill him. so so so fucked up what the hell

favourite headcanon:

king of autism swag i believe. hyperfixation on jesus to hyperfixation on murder and lying and manipulating pipeline