#as i am carnally obsessed with green

[youraverageaemondsimp]

“Made for me.” // Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Thank you everyone for 1K followers, I am so grateful for all the support I've received for my fics, it's kind of an emotional moment for me cause I never thought I'd get this far, so here is the fic from this poll! this is short since I did not have much time and I do not want to delay my 1k celebration fic further! <3

MDNI // DD:DNE // reader discretion is advised.

Summary: As far as Aemond can remember, he had liked you, not in a way a brother loves his sister, no, in a way a man loves a woman, finding out that you were soon to be betrothed to a Tully for alliance, he feels devastated, until he decides he can prevent it, by ruining you.

WARNINGS: heavy noncon to dubcon, mindbreak, mindfuck, canon typical incest, creepy aemond(?), possessive aemond, dark!aemond, jealousy, obsession, breeding kink, tiddy sucking, virginity loss, mentions of blood, purity culture, medieval age standards (no smut until 18+), cum eating, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, porn with little plot. + not proofread.

block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to avoid seeing dark content from me.

WC: 3k

For as long as Aemond can remember, he had always been smitten with you, his little sister, someone very dear to him, he had loved you since the moment you were born, immediately becoming someone he swore to protect.

He was rumoured to have some romantic feelings for helaena, which wasn't entirely false but if anyone were to look closely, they would realise that the longing gaze he holds for helaena is nothing compared to the one when he looks at you.

As he grew into a man, these feelings developed further, and as he watched you grow into a woman, desire managed to get a hold of him. He remembers the first time he felt carnal attraction towards you, it was your sixteenth nameday, you had worn a beautiful green dress that showed a little cleavage, something his mother would've been against but she let it slide that time, he remembered as you bent over in front of him to get something from the table, giving him full view of your tits which he immediately looked away from.

That night he had rushed back to his chambers as fast as possible to tug on his length at the thought of you.

He was never the same after that, every touch ignited a fire in him, when you would lay on his thigh as you both sat beneath the godswood while he read, he had to fight the urge to take you right then and there, taking your maidenhead in front of the gods to bind you to himself forever.

As the years passed, his feeling for you grew stronger and stronger.

“Aem!” There was your sweet voice calling him once again, his gaze lifted from the book on the table to your form which stood a few metres away from him, you smiled when you noticed his gaze was on you, walking over to him so you stood next to him, peering down on the book he was reading.

“What are you reading?” you ask curiously, voice leaking with inquiry, he looked down at his book before glancing up again, “Just a book about our history, valyria.” he tells you and you lean down slightly over his shoulder, your platinum blonde locks falling over and curtaining the side of his face as you read the text.

“Would you read it to me?” you inquire and he nods, before you shoot him the bright smile that never seemed to leave your face, and pull the chair beside him, causing the wood to make a noise as it glid against the floor, and sitting down on it.

He began reading and you listened to him for quite a while, before your eyes started becoming droopy and closing as sleep tried to overwhelm you, it wasn't because you were not interested in the history, no, it was due to the fact that your older brother's voice was extremely comforting.

He chuckled when he tried your efforts to keep yourself awake and closed the book, “Sister, you must not fight when sleep finds you, go to thine chambers and rest.”

“But brother! You have just gotten to Aegon's conquest.” you pout, and he chuckles, “I shall read it to you tomorrow, now go rest.” he manages to convince you and obey his word.

Aemond sighs as he watches you walk away, you were the Apple of his eye, everyone knew, he had been protective of you since you were younger, though he developed certain type feelings, the kind that a brother shouldn't develop for his sister, but alas, targaryens have queer customs, after all, his elder sister was married to Aegon, their older brother.

It was only time until mother betrothed you both, and he would wait patiently for that, he would often imagine how married life with you would be, it would be perfect.

But all those dreams were crushed when he finds out that your mother was planning to betrothed you to a tully, to get their alliance in case of Aegon's claim for the throne. Angry was an understatement, he was extremely pissed off, and what did you do? You gladly accepted it, even managing to look happy at the proposal.

Just then he remembers his elder sister's words. ‘If one possesses a thing, the other will take it away.’

He could not have that.

He can not have you be taken away from him, that too by an undeserving house such as tully.

You knew something was extremely odd when Aemond came to your chambers at night, he never did that, always deeming it inappropriate for a lady and a man to be together after the moon has risen unless they were husband and wife. So it was extremely shocking as to what he was doing in your chambers, knowing he took the secret entrance since the guard did not mention Aemond at all when you entered.

“Brother? What are you doing here so late?” you ask as you approach him, he is sitting on the chair near the fireplace, turning his head to the side as if to acknowledge your presence, the light bouncing off his face making his features look much more angular and intimidating.

“I have missed you, dear sister.” he stood up and turned to face you, and you peered up at him confused, “I had heard about your betrothal to a tully, though I do not remember his name, I came here to wish you pleasantries and a prosperous marriage.” he tries his best to not scowl.

You smile widely.

And that immediately sets him off.

“Thank yo-” before you could finish your sentence, Aemond grabs you harshly by your cheeks, pulling his face towards his own, “You're happy? You're fucking happy?” he growls as his breath fans your face, “Aemond-” before you could say anything, the same hand that was gripping your cheeks goes to your hair, pulling your head back, your hands fly up to his to make him release his grip as the tug at your strands were incredibly painful.

He doesn't say anything but slams his lips against yours, moving against yours in a frantic rhythm, your eyes widen at this and you push at his chest to pull him off, but he uses the grip on your hair to further push you against him, and soon you're all flush against him, weakly trying to pushing him off while the hand in your hair keeps tightening as the other holds your waist gently.

A true contrast.

He pulls away to breathe and he looks at your teary eyes, as you look at him, “Aemond- you're scaring me.” you say weakly, shaking as his eye narrows, “I love you.” he blurts out and you look at him shocked, “But- we're siblings–”

“We're also targaryens.” he cuts you off, and lets go of your hair.

You squeal when he lifts you up roughly, before making haste over to your bed and throwing you on it, and before you can get up, he traps you in his arms.

“I do not wish to see you married to someone else, you have been mine, since the day you were born, sister.” he whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to it. You gasped when you felt his hand grope at your clothed breast giving it a tight squeeze and you tried prying his hand off to no avail.

“Aem- please stop-” you beg but he doesn't listen and his eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, “Sister, tell me the truth have you not felt anything when you stay with me? A warm feeling in your heart?” your breathe hitches as he asks you that question, and you look away from him, feeling ashamed that you held feelings for him, they very well hidden, you felt ashamed whenever you would feel heat pool between your legs as you watched Aemond do quite literally anything.

He undoes his breeches and pulls his cock out, undeniably hard, “If I ruin you then mother won't marry you off to him, besides, no one would want a woman that is ruined, especially by her own brother.” he says and you sob, shaking your head and you gasp as you feel his dick pressed against your core.

Your silence gave him the answer he needed, he tore your dress apart, the stitches popping off with a noise, as he changed his grip and undoes your clothing.

You try to push him off and hit his chest, in defiance, but he is much stronger than you, pinning your hands above with his one hand as the other pulls off the shredded clothing, with your final strength, you deliver a hard kick to his crotch which causes him to groan and plop on the bed next to you in pain, and you use that change to try and scramble up and off the bed but to your disdain, he immediately recovers and pulls you down with a tight grip on your leg but pushing them apart, placing himself between them and then wrapping his hands around your neck, the grip cutting off air circulation rapidly as you struggled against him.

“Fucking cunt.” he says before spitting on your face and you cry, you feel your brain go dark as you start loosing consciousness at the lack of oxygen only for him to let go, cause you to take a deep breath on relax, snapping you awake at once.

“Sister, look how much you are leaking, way too much for someone that pretends like they hate it.” he rubs his cock against your folds, coating it in your juices and he groans, before he leans in, kissing your neck and then your breasts before pulling back.

“Brother please- ah!” you gasp when you felt his hot fingers press against your bud, rubbing it, making you squirm as you grip his hand and try to push it off but his grip stays firm and you eventually give up, hands falling to your sides and gripping the sheets below as he plays with cunt.

He knew you'd eventually break.

He did not want to hurt you or force you.

But you weren't making it easier and he did not have much time either, so he had to resort to this.

You reach your peak with a loud moan of his name which went straight to his cock, he leaned down and kissed you once more, holding your legs apart by force and then grabbing his cock before lining it up against your entrance, slowly pushing the thick head in, your hands shot up to his shoulder to grab them, nails digging into the skin as he rips you apart on his cock, bullying into you without mercy, his hand covering your mouth as you let out painful whines to shush you up. You whimper when you feel him fully sheathed inside you, feeling too full, your cunt clenching around him painfully tight to push him out but he stays there.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well, like you were made to.” he whispers in your ear before pulling his hips back and snapping them forward, causing you to let out a scream, although it was muffled, at the pain. The orgasm before had only helped a little, he was too thick and big.

At first he starts slowly, pulling back and snapping one at a time, trying to give you time to adjust until you whimpered his name, which made him lose any and all control he had as his pace became faster, brutally slamming his cock inside you as you whined and moaned beneath him.

The sound of wet slapping noises soon fill the air and the smell of sex starts taking over, your mind becomes all hazy at what was happening to you, you watch as Aemond takes one of your breasts in his mouth, suckling on the nipple, drool spilling all over it while his hand gropes the other, massaging it. Your hand travels to his hair and you arch your back, shoving more of your breast in his mouth, making him groan in delight.

He pulls back with a pop and you look at him gasping and wide eyed as he thrusts into you, eyes dropped as slight drool leaks from the sides of your mouth, letting out moans when he hits that sweet spot inside you.

“Fuck- you're so perfect, made just for me.” he grunts, supporting himself on his hands above you, hair curtaining around your face as you stare directly in his eye, watching him close it in pleasure, gasping when he feels you clench around him.

“You're mine right?” his eye opens and he looks at you intensely, you nod, agreeing with what he was saying, your mind losing all of its ability to think rationally the moment he entered inside you, you felt your stomach tighten.

“Use your words.” he commands and you gulp, “Yes only yours— ah! Fuck aemond!” you throw your head back as your second orgasm hits you, moaning out loud and he let's out a shaky breath before you felt his thrusts become sloppy, “Fuck, I'm gonna fill this cunt up, watch my seed take root in your womb, you're mine, mine to fuck, marry, breed, you'll give me many heirs won't you?” he goes off, voicing his thoughts and you feel warm and turned on at his words, “Yes- brother, I'm all yours, only yours.” you say, grabbing his cheek and rubbing a thumb on his scar and he finishes inside you with a loud moan, pushing himself to the hilt as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum inside you.

He pulls out, still somehow hard and lays down beside you, and you feel so empty without him inside you, so you whine, “Aem- I need you.” you pout and he looks at you wide eyed, and you don't know what comes over you, but you find your patience running thin as you wait for him to do something, so you take matters into your own hands, getting on top of him, grabbing his blood soaked cock before rising your hips and sitting down on it.

“Sister?” Aemond asks questionably, as he grabs your hips, watching you bounce on top of his cock, breasts moving up and down as you moan loudly into the chambers, only his name, on repeat and that's when he finally understands what happened.

He broke you.

He fucked your mind.

He should feel bad, knowing how now you're seeking him and his cock out like a bitch in heat but he doesn't, he feels more accomplished at that, knowing you desire no one but him. He moans when he feels your cunt spasm around him as you reach your peak, and instead of stopping, you continue riding him, wanting to bring him to his peak as well, you take one of his hands and guide it to your breast, making him grip it and play with your nipple.

“Brother please! Please cum inside me, I want you to fill me up.” you beg and Aemond groans at that, “Want- want you so bad! please haa, I need to have your children.” you moan and Aemond felt himself reach his peak harshly at that, filling you up once again.

Aemond changes the position, getting on top of you again, cock still inside and you give him a small smile before grabbing his face and pulling him in for a kiss, his lips move passionately against yours, before he pulls away, kissing down your neck and to your breasts, he pulls out and slowly trails kissing down to your down, watching as his loads of cum leak out from you, he pushes his tongue out and collects his juice on his mouth, before shoving it inside again, engulfing your cunt in his mouth, you grab his hair and grind your hips against his face, moaning his name loudly as he works his mouth, his nose shoved against your clit, creating friction whenever he moves his head, and soon enough, you reach your peak once again, “Brother!” you moan as you arch your back and he groans into your cunt, lapping up at the juices being secreted from you, before pulling away from it, placing wet kisses on your inners thighs and coming up towards you again, and kissing you, shoving his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste both your combined juices, and you groan into the kiss at the taste.

You both spent that night just like that.

Your mother was horrified when she had heard about this, and tully had walked in on the conversation, scrunching up his face in disgust and calling off your betrothal, you stood with your arm wrapped around Aemonds arm as he explain his mother what happened, looking away and hiding in his arms as she yelled at him for ruining and spoiling you, before inevitable deciding to betroth you both as result.

And you both were married, two moons later.

The maesters were extremely confused when you went into labour earlier than what they had predicted, they thought that it was going to be a stillbirth, yet they were confused to see when a healthy silver hair babe popped out, crying and cooing. They considered it a miracle but only Alicent and Aemond knew the truth.

Aemond stood there with his child in his arms as he gazed lovingly upon him, a son. You smiled at him as he cooed in high valyrian.

“Maester, When can I take her again?” That question caught the maester off guard and he cleared his throat before speaking up, “I would suggest waiting 6 weeks until she is fully healed, or 3 moons time.” and Aemond hummed.

The maester leaves the room, leaving you, aemond and the babe alone, the baby cooing at his father, small hand entangled in his hair.

“After you heal, I shall put a babe inside you again, dear wife.” He comes down and sits next to you and you smile, “As you wish, husband.” you tease and press a kiss on his lips.

———

[goddesspharo]

Tagged by @antiquitea.

3 ships: This changes like...all the time. Wave something shiny and pretty and vaguely antagonistic at me and I'm pretty much yours.

I rewatched Top Gun Maverick over the weekend and even though the point of The Hard Deck intro was to establish that they all knew each other carnally, I'm feeling very into Hangman/Phoenix at the moment because who doesn't love a pairing with two extremely attractive people being shitheads to each other while secretly wanting to bone?

I feel a flare up of "why didn't Grace and Daniel make out in Ready Or Not?" at least once a month so that's still a thing, I guess. Adam Brody deserves better than being a second tier character in those dumb Shazam movies.

I miss seeing Kyle Valenti's face every week for two minutes an episode on Roswell, New Mexico so I am still extremely bitter that my garbage CW show got cancelled (except that I genuinely believe the first season was stellar and not just because every music cue was from the 90s) and after four seasons of wanting someone to love Kyle Valenti back, we fiiiiiiiinally got Kyle and Isobel getting together in the last episode after a season of secret and not so secret pining only so they could have...one minute of screen time together in which they...didn't even kiss? THANKS FOR DEPRIVING ME OF ALL THE NICE THINGS. Am I ever going to stop being bitter over not getting to see them date or make out or do all the things that Lily Cowles probably put up on her vision board? NO, I WILL NOT. Get them booked and busy!!!!

1st ever ship: I can't think that far back! I'm sure there were many before this but off the top of my head, my first thought after "I'm too ancient to remember this" was that Tommy and Kimberly in Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers ruled. Remember the proverbial water cooler discussions in elementary school when they introduced the green ranger? SPECTACULAR. Ah, back in the days when we thought some dude using a flute to summon a robot dragon was the height of being a bad ass. (Side note: the Power Rangers movie with Dacre Montgomery and Naomi Scott doesn't get enough credit for being a really good time. They teased a sequel that will never happen because not enough people recognize a good reboot!!!)

last song: Last week, I was inexplicably listening to A LOT of Dave Matthews Band live performances. I guess the inexplicable bit is that last week Spotify's Discover Weekly decided to randomly put a Stevie Nicks cover of "Crash Into Me" on my playlist, which sent me into a DMB spiral - I know this is deeply uncool because anyone who was alive in the 90s heard that song at least once a day for YEARS on the radio so we are all hardwired to roll our eyes at them, but this spiral led me to this (in which the late great LeRoi Moore's sax solo is the closest I will ever come to understanding Damien Chazelle's obsession with jazz) and, even more spectacularly, this, which is worth even listening to in the background. But actually none of that is what I've been listening to more recently. I was on call the other night and the only thing that got me through 48 hours on 4 hours of sleep was Tina Turner, particularly "Nutbush City Limits."

currently reading: Patricia Highsmith's Strangers On A Train.

last movie: I watched Breathe (2014; dir. Mélanie Laurent) last night and it was SO GOOD! Highly recommend! It was also refreshing to watch a movie that wasn't two hours long. Bring back 90-100 minute movies!

currently consuming: I'm drinking black tea with milk.

currently watching: About to watch the pilot of Mayfair Witches even though Alexandra Daddario has the acting range of a beautiful block of wood, but I'm in the intersection of AMC's venn diagram of "bitches who miss Interview With The Vampire" and "bitches who miss Jack Huston's face."

currently craving: Lychees, but they're out of season :(

Tagging whoever wants to do it!

[amaru-love-writings]

lovesick.

T.W.:character exhibits signs of eating di*order; traces of obsession and self-deprecation. Please take care! //// (This was me trying to understand a particular type of character, please it is only a work of fiction, like in other sad fics do not read if it bothers you in any way. Your safety is important.) //// (Inspired by the scene in Euphoria where the character is trying to get the attention of a male character) ////

You should never lie on your resumé

because your skills will be tested soon;

the biggest lie I’ve ever told is

I know the feeling called happiness.

4 am.

Nobody was up, except for the auburn-haired woman.

Her alarm rang a soft, lo-fi tune; to ramp up her energy in the softest of manners. The sweetness of the notes matching the diabetic sugary scent of the body shower.

4 am and nobody was up; but the woman who was in love with a god - at least in her eyes, that was who the man represented.

His shift would only begin at 7, which meant three hours of precise preparation.

Her care unmatched even by the best in the big city’s hospital.

Scrub, moisturize, peel and tonify. Each roller had its place, its order in the arrangement of beauty.

She was in love with that routine; if it meant he would cast but a glance at her. However, would she be satisfied by his eyes only? No, she wished for his lips, hands, chest and dick; all over her.

Which brings her to the present, hairless; smooth perfection. She hummed satisfied as the tanner started to work its magic; giving her a healthy aura of a girl who’s been at the beach for the weekend.

“Be my baby for the weekend…” Taylor Swift played in the back. But she thought annoyed to herself; she did not want the surgeon for the weekend… no, she wanted him forever.

That is why perfection is a must. Her skin beamed as the toner and moisturizer worked together. It was time for the finer details; hair up, and makeup done, she smiled to herself.

“He will be mine. Today I’ll get him.”

Her lips mouthed with carnal intentions.

The choice of clothing would make any man’s jaw drop; an expensive mini skirt combined with her trademark Chanel little jacket. All in black; as she knew he liked, by his own style choice; and the glances he threw at the other one.

‘Ugh’ her face contorted slightly; but she hyped herself up ‘she’s no one… they’re just childhood friends… you’re way sexier than her”

Her heels clicked as she made her way to the hospital; where her sweet doctor would be waiting at his office, for the patients’ records.

Her sweet sickly smile garnered no reaction; in fact, his glances barely held the last mark, ten seconds, when she had accidentally cut her cheek when dermaplaning. Of course, it had been the first time she had tried - and loved the act of controlling the pressure of a razor against herself. She had been in heaven that day, his browns had frowned ever-so-slightly. And he had told her to ‘take care’.

Her sweet doctor; it had fueled her dreams for weeks.

Now, however, she only felt an empty pit on her stomach; wanting nothing more than to throw up the green juice.

Then, she saw the unannounced girl, the bane of her existence. And o, how his eyes softened at her sight. ‘Crap!’ Her lips quivered; her hands shook uncontrollably.

Moving quickly, she made safely to the farthest stall in the employees’ bathroom and emptied her not-so-full stomach.

‘Shit!’

‘Cute girls don’t swear’

‘Fuck’

‘Stop it’

Her head was spinning, and her knees felt like they would give out at any minute.

“What good it is if he doesn’t even look at me?”

Tears formed and threatened to fall; but she took a few deep breaths, and reassured herself, ‘tomorrow, he will look at me tomorrow. Maybe I just need to make my hair straighter, or maybe change the contour of my nose, or even get rid of the filler… does he likes small lips better?’

In her haste, she did not realize she was walking out of the staff bathroom and into someone.

“Careful there…”

That voice; o its angelic tone.

“Are you alright?”

The pit in her stomach was all but forgotten, as her eyes locked in his. She could not even nod.

“Follow me”

His hands on her felt like fire from the camp where she first met her doctor, she was the oldest camp counselor, he a promising kid who was about to enter the town’s top university. She knew then the definition of love at first sight.

“Have you been eating at all? Your breath is labored and I can feel your ribs…”

Concern. He was concerned about her.

“I’ve always been skinny, doctor…”

Her blush could no longer been contained.

“Well, that may be true; but not to this extent. I remember you back in what… camp Thornton?”

Oh, my sweet Jesus, he remembered…

“Oh. I guess I’ve changed.” She smiled like a fool in love.

Yet, his professional demeanor didn’t leave much room for further talk.

“I’ll send a checkup request. Bring the results on Monday.”

“I will, doctor” her voice sounded like a bird’s chant; yet he sat down and didn’t spare her another glance.

“The health of our staff is important for the flow of work. Please, do let me know if you are struggling with something. We have many specialists who could help.”

O, how sweet were his words.

Maybe she will skip a few glasses of water tomorrow… and definitely get a new bra.

❣

A.N.: Original story. Please, do not repost, copy or translate. Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Enjoy.

[nerendus]

Second part yay!

Martyr Logarius — Meeting Death right before the confrontation with Dracula. He's cool, I'll give him that. And he's probably Pthumerian which is normally an automatic win, but I'm also a Vileblood fucker to the extreme, and since he's obviously right wing and wouldn't be able to change his ideals, I don't think it would ever work out between us. 5/10.

Lady Maria — WOMAN MOOOOOMENNNNNNT!! She is the sole reason I ever played this game, and subsequently why I got into Fromsoft games. The art I saw of her was exquisite and her boss theme was so top notch that I had to meet her in person. She's lovely, she has layers like onions. I want to sit on the dead woman's lap while she is eternally bleeding out to death. Her voice is amazing, and her fucking blood weapon KICKS ASS!!! 100/10.

Living Failures — They are already a complete polycule. I don't need to intervene. Banger of an OST tho. 3/10.

Ebrietas, Daughter of the Cosmos — Man, I love women. Her silly little green eyes, her noodle...things, the central membrane that's coloured like a nebula. The Choir knew what's up, I want to be with her always. 10/10.

One Reborn — 0/10.

Micolash, Host of the Nightmare — Everyone Bloodborne player faces this conundrum. Do we want to fuck Micolash? He looks like that....but he also...looks like that. He has a nice voice, and he's constantly teasing you throughout the fight. He has a gang of dead puppet dudes punching you. He punches (....fists) you. 9/10.

Mergo's Wet Nurse — Does anything even need to be said? She has so many arms and knives, she's protective of her charge, and look at that DRIP! I desire her so carnally. 10/10.

Gehrman, First Hunter — SAD OLD MAN!!! I doubt he has any stamina for much of anything other than beating my ass, and he probably has a very bad case of arthritis, but I would do absolutely all that I can to give him a good time. His girlfriend's dead, his boyfriend's dead and forgot about him, he deserves to be sucked off TBH. He also has a FUCKING SCYTHE! 10/10.

Moon Presence — She is the epitome of beauty. She has hair tentacles, lovely waist, and she's literally the moon. One of the endings is literally just her hugging you and (presumably) eating your leg off so you can't escape her. She's also the reason why you cannot die and are forced through the hellish revival over and over again after brutal murders because she needs you to do...something. Wife material, am I right? 100/10.

Yharnam, Pthumerian Queen — I am literally obsessed with this woman. I want to dissect her brain and figure out why she is the way she is. I guess I could just ask her, but I prefer the intimacy of surgery over conversation. She's very beautiful, she's a (forced) MILF, and she's one hell of a boss. She's also a Pthumerian. 10/10.

Last part coming right up.

Datability/Fuckability of every Bloodborne boss

You know how it is....

Cleric Beast — First boss of the game and very simple. He's quite the acrobatic, and is permanently burned into my mind whenever I walk across the bridge. He has a lovely voice that he uses to scream at me from the very beginning of the game. 7/10.

Father Gascoigne — Do I really need to say anything..... Deep voice, bloody, tall, DILF, religious man. Being able to summon him in Central Yharnam and just twirl your hair at how tall he is..... Don't worry about his wife. His wife's dead. And his children need a new mom and I've already accidentally killed them, so there is absolutely nothing in the way of our fucked up bloody romance. 10/10.

Blood-starved Beast — You know..... I'll give them points for being in one of my favourite locations (the chapel, not exactly Old Yharnam), but the poison sweeping from every orifice of their body really is a major turn off. I love their mangly and skinned look, but I would rather not die while cuddling. 4/10.

Vicar Amelia — Probably the first boss to give me genuine trouble, but I'm alright with that! She was a very beautiful human woman and became an even more beautiful Borzoi woman. Even in her transformed state, she still holds firm to her values and religion, so she would never betray me just because now she's able to scream really loud. Her friends outside really don't approve of the relationship, but there's nothing more juicier than a forbidden relationship. 8/10.

Witches of Hemick — I'm not saying yes for her, she isn't really my type (her eyes are a little...too much), but the Mad Ones in the polycule are extremely lovely and I want them to hold me in their arms and protect me from all danger. 5/10.

Shadows of Yharnam — YES! MY DUDES! Seeing three robed guys slowly creep into view from the fog is already enough to make a lass swoon, but with the added Nazgul effect of them and just the overall fact that they are Pthumerian makes me so desperately be in the middle of whatever they got going on. Don't worry, the Queen will be fine on her own, she's already dead anyhow. 10/10.

Rom, the Vacuous Spider — MILF, loyal children, loyal to the cause that made her turn into a mindless cosmic spider at the bottom of the lake. Her very tiny legs are kinda silly, and I don't really have that much attraction to her, but I think we could be besties. 4/10.

Amygdala — YES! WOMAN ALIEN MOMENT! She is seven arms of beauty. There are two particular variations that I'm obsessed with: passed the Yahar'gul Chapel lamp, there's a lass that is...extremely dangerously hanging from one of the buildings, and a few of her arms are just dangling without any purpose as she just lazily looks down at us. The other one is back up the way we came, passed The Girls, and she's just clinging to the bars over this walkway, and you can get so close to her and see her heartbeat and she just stares down at you with all her tentacles and it makes my heart blush. 100/10.

Laurence, First Vicar — His human form, even though we just hear his voice, is an automatic yes, but this isn't about him, it's about his fucked up flaming transformation version. From the moment of the boss intro, it's obvious that he's just having a bad hangover, and I feel for him! I'll get a washrag and damped the flames before giving him a full bottle of Ibuprofen (I feel like he'd need all that) and taking a cuddle break with him on the altar. 8/10.

Ludwig, the Holy Blade — Honestly....his second phase is sorta attractive, but he really just gives me dad vibes instead of husband vibes. 2/10.

This is the end of Tumblr post due to photo limit, second part will be reblogged!

[sapphism]

🎀🎀💌🌿☠️ angry plant tag swag!!☠️🌿💌🎀🎀

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: Episode 9

This episode starts with Zhao Yunlan being a bloody good boss. I’ll talk about how the opinions of others must have affected this man’s perception of himself a little later on, but in this scene it is important to note that Zhao Yunlan is supportive, caring and loyal. Wang Zheng comes to him in tears, asking for permission to leave and see the home she had just remembered, and he not only supports her verbally, but drags his entire team on the trip with her the very next day. Sure, he has are ulterior motives, as he strongly suspects one of the Hallows must be around the same area, but I maintain that Zhao Yunlan would have insisted on going with Wang Zheng regardless.

There are complications to this trip; namely, Wang Zheng is a ghost energy being and can neither be in sunlight, nor leave the SID really. Thus, the plan to take her on the trip includes buying a doll. The implication is that Wang Zheng can be somehow placed inside it, and thus be able to move, but the details of how this is done are actually curiously hazy. I’m not sure if censorship is the reason for muddled writing, but there really is very little explanation for the ghost in a doll situation.

Guo Changcheng is tasked with securing a makeshift body for Wang Zheng, and the boy, eager to act fast, and without much to work with in terms of instructions, ends up buying this.

We can only thank the Universe for the role of Wang Zheng not being played by a blow-up doll for three episodes straight.

Zhao Yunlan instantly realises that being places inside this thing might be a little bit upsetting for his subordinate, and lashes out at Guo Changcheng with an excellent “Is the thing above your neck a urinal?” This snaps Zhu Hong out of her mirth, too; she rushes to her friend’s side to offer emotional support, and will remain there for the entire episode.

I love this blocking, in which Zhu Hong is the only one who feels comfortable approaching Wang Zheng in a situation where she is seemingly being mocked by her male colleagues, as Zhao Yunlan and Guo Changcheng look on, unable to offer a meaningful apology.

The evening prior to this Shen Wei is musing over ancient map of the region. His costume is arranged deliberately so you can see the Pendant of Pining hanging around his neck.

I am really wondering when this was shot, because it looks very out of place. The costume differs from Shen Wei’s usual attire, including chinos and an uncharacteristically ill fitting shirt. His hair looks so wrong I am wondering if this is styling, or a different haircut entirely. And, since we’re on this train of thought, his eye colour is so off I genuinely spent quite a bit of time examining the shots in order to figure out whether he’s wearing contacts. I don’t think he is, by the way, but the colour grading makes his warm syrupy-brown irises look almost olive green.

During the scene it is revealed Shen Wei’s only worry in regards to leaving the city and rushing into what could be trouble is a possibility of Zhao Yunlan encountering danger in his absence. It is easy to see that Shen Wei here firmly associates his own worth with his work as Hei Pao Shi, and his own needs with Yunlan being safe and sound. You could trace this thought process back to the mountainside conversation ten thousand years ago, and to years of loneliness and isolation that followed. While, frankly, equating self-worth with comfort of other it’s not necessarily so unusual, and neither is equating it with one’s work, Shen Wei’s disregard for his own life is still horribly upsetting.

The morning after, Zhao Yunlan with his team and Shen Wei with his students move out of Dragon City. Destination - North-west. I have to ask though, why is Shen Wei taking his students with him? I get that it’s a cover but also: he can totally just teleport where he needs to and do his stuff as Envoy, can he not? It’s fast, efficient, and can all be done during the night without arousing any suspicious.

As it happens, Shen Wei goes by car, which breaks, and causes him to instantly cross paths with Zhao Yunlan. What I like about this meeting is that we see it from an outsider perspective, as we drive into the scene with Lin Jing, Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng.

“Is that Professor Shen? This must be their destiny. They keep meeting each other wherever they go.”

Zhao Yunlan confesses that he feels like Shen Wei bugged him and pops up everywhere he goes; Shen Wei counters by saying that in this case Zhao Yunlan who followed him. Zhao Yunlan can just laugh awkwardly. It’s kind of adorable how the two men just basically admit that they’re stalking each other, and are both kind of okay with that. Shen Wei then introduces the other man to his students as his good friend.

Zhao Yunlan, having already figured out that he is not likely to get any answers from Shem Wei, goes on a charm offensive with his students. I think this is the first time Shen Wei sees Zhao Yunlan using his jovial manipulation on others, and he is not particularly happy about what he is witnessing. Below are the series of facial expressions he wears every time it happens throughout the episode.

The way I read it, this could equally be jealousy, or the daunting - and incorrect - realisation that Zhao Yunlan is being like this with everything that moves. He could be even beating himself up for falling for this man’s charm now that he sees that Zhao Yunlan using the same wide smile as a tool to placate, gain trust and access information. In his mind, this is a further confirmation that he is not in any way special in Zhao Yunlan’s eyes. Again, Shen Wei’s supposition cannot be further from the truth. But you could imagine how he may have come to make to this conclusion.

In this particular case, Zhao Yunlan uses his charm to get some information out of Jiajia, and ends up hearing the direction of their expedition.

Shen Wei nervously adjusts glasses in the shot which is not even his close-up. It’s lovely, seeing how good of an actor Zhu Yilong is. Good actors don’t need to be directed to to most of the little things their characters would do, and don’t have to be told what their character quirks are.

Shen Wei very politely shuts Jiajia up when she starts talking about the earthquake, asking her to get out of the sun, despite this not being a hot day.

“Chief Zhao, you are really good at making people talk.”

As he is making this observation, he is offering Zhao Yunlan his water, because the man mentioned that he may be thirsty, and hydration is important. Should I once again be obsessing over how their fingers are touching here? Perhaps not. I am, once more, doing it anyway.

During the conversation that ensues here, Shen Wei reminds Zhao Yunlan that he was asked not to leave the city, and makes one more attempt at forcing them to part ways after the car fixing is done. Chief Zhao is having none of it. He reminds Shen Wei that no promises were given, and suggests they work together and protect each other instead. It’s interesting how their end goal is similar: they want to keep each other out of harm’s way. But for Zhao Yunlan, who works with a team, this implies sticking together. For Shen Wei, who has been alone for what could have been centuries (we are never given a timeline for when his magical coma ended), this implies being as far away from each other as possible. Many things about their relationship will change - but this one will never do.

Zhao Yunlan proceeds to charm his way into driving Shen Wei’s car. He is after all very good with people, and he’s not afraid to use this skill to keep himself near the Professor.

Next, we have intercut scenes depicting conversations in two separate cars.

Lin Jing is driving Zhu Hong, Guo Changcheng and Wang Zheng in the jeep. There, Guo Changcheng tries his darnedest to offer exceedingly moody Wang Zheng apologies and consolation, but his weak attempts to very little to lighten the young woman’s dark disposition. In the meanwhile, Zhu Hong is seething with resentment and jealousy. She notes discontentedly that Zhao Yunlan once again chose to go and spend time with Shen Wei, hypothesises on why Shen Wei is unmarried, and then goes into a long-winded rant about Zhao Yunlan being an uncaring person. Lin Jing reluctantly participates in this conversation, but he does not look very much like he cares for it.

I have mentioned in my previous recap that those around Zhao Yunlan comment on his crassness, and now I am wondering how much this creates a vicious circle for the man in question. He may have heard - from his father, from his previous romantic partners, from his colleagues - that he is a failure, a boorish, unloving and superficial man who only does things to chase clout and carnal pleasures. It is difficult to not internalise that, and Zhao Yunlan may have just grown to see this as an unshakeable truth about himself.

As for Zhu Hong’s part in this, it is easy to call someone not responding to your advances an uncaring jerk. It does not, however, necessarily make them one.

Curiously enough, the only person speaking up in defence of Zhao Yunlan here is Guo Changcheng. He notes that he considers Chief Zhao to be a nice person; despite only being with SID for a month, he is able to see good intensions behind the bristles. No doubt, this is another case of Xiao Guo being incredibly empathic.

In the other car, Zhao Yunlan is driving Shen Wei and his students. Here, we see the chief continue to crack jokes and use his bountiful charisma to find out more about their expedition. Presumably, this has been going for a while, and Shen Wei’s patience finally runs thin when Zhao Yunlan states that their research must be very important. “Thank you for the compliment”, states Shen Wei flatly, according to subtitles.

According to my dictionary however, what he actually says is, roughly, “Chef Zhao overpraised [us]” (“赵处长过奖了”), which even with my very basic comprehension of Mandarin, I can see as overly formal and clearly dismissive.

Zhao Yunlan seems to be taken aback, and a few seconds pass before he composes his features into one of the chuckles he uses as a mask: it is loud and wide, but does not quite reach his eyes, sliding off his face almost instantly. In the passenger seat, Shen Wei is slowly and deliberately readjusting his own mask.

We cut to Zhu Jiu trying to secure assistance of a whole bunch of Youchu he drags out of the cave. It goes even worse than his other plans do, with the beasts grumbling and effectively refusing to do any work whatsoever.

Zhu Jiu’s ineffectiveness is actually pretty sweet on rewatch, and I am starting to kind of appreciate Wan Naichao in this role. It’s not that I find his performance particularly good, but between the costume, the wig and the script, he does not have an awful lot to work with, and he nonetheless appears to have so much fun hamming it up to his heart’s content. He is not intimidating by any stretch of imagination, but he is surprisingly, albeit ironically, watchable. And, honestly, I would rather watch an actor being hammy and enjoying it than visibly longing for death on set.

After passing a checkpoint through a combination of Zhao Yunlan’s connections and ever-present charm, the now joint SID/DCU expedition shuffles around in cars once again. Despite their destination being allegedly twenty kilometres (or about 12.5 miles) out of town, it takes them a whole day to reach it. Who knows, maybe the Seastar’s measuring units are different.

This time, it is Lin Jing driving, with Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan having relocated to the back. We see that Zhao Yunlan has got a cold again - which could theoretically be from being so close to the hallows. He sneezes, and Shen Wei microexpressively overreacts.

Then, Zhao Yunlan unceremoniously arranges a pillow on Shen Wei’s shoulder and settles in for a nap. Does he remember napping on Shen Wei’s shoulder a few nights prior to that? Because he might do, considering how comfortable he feels with this casual close contact.

After a momentary panic, and a comment about flu meds, Shen Wei not only lets Zhao Yunlan do it, but also rearranges his pillow several times to make it more comfortable for the other man. I have no hot takes on this apart from just... those two. I love those two. How are they so adorable.

The car enters CGI fog, and promptly get stuck. To make matters worse, Lin Jing says he does not have a phone signal and asks Shen Wei to check his phone. “He does not have a mobile phone”, deadpans Zhao Yunlan before Shen Wei even opens his mouth.

Finally, Zhao Yunlan’s head vacates Shen Wei’s shoulder, and the professor leaves the car to scout the area. Jiajia tries to follow, but Zhao Yunlan dissuades her and goes after Shen Wei himself, catching up just as the other man is starting to scry the surroundings with his powers.

Zhao Yunlan enters the scene quoting poetry to highlight the beauty of their current location.

Shen Wei instantly tries to send him back: partly to continue using his dark energy, and partly, perhaps, out of genuine worry. In response Zhao Yunlan notes that Shen Wei is the only one who can order him around. This is not all done in cheek: it’s actually kind of true. Even before finding out that Shen Wei is powerful and ancient, and imposing, Zhao Yunlan is readily listening to him, and following his lead.

As a precursor to returning to the car, Zhao Yunlan takes his jacket off and drapes it over Shen Wei’s shoulders, despite the other man’s loud protestations. Again, Yunlan has got a cold, and he is visibly filling the chill air later in the scene. He has no way of knowing that this jacket will become a catalyst for his suspicions about Shen Wei’s alter ego, so there can’t be any other reason for him forcing his jacket onto the other man apart from a desire to make sure he is warm and comfortable.

Shen Wei stares at Zhao Yunlan in absolute wonder.

It is easy to believe that the idea of someone wanting to look after him is foreign no Shen Wei: we know from the text of the show that before Kunlun no one has shown him any consideration, and seeing Shen Wei now, it is not difficult to imagine, heartbreaking as it is, that no one has done it since.

Jiajia’s scream cuts through the air, interrupting the scene. As the two men take off in the direction of the sound, Shen Wei grabs Zhao Yunlan by the elbow as they run out of the shot.

When they rejoin Jiajia and Lin Jing, she girl stammers a few words about ghostly presence that she witnessed, and Lin Jing confirms her words, sharing his knowledge about ghosts seen in this area. Zhao Yunlan reprimands him for speeding feudalistic and superstitious concepts. Just remember that their HR manager literally is a semi-corporeal dead woman. This line is such a blatant and somewhat tongue-in-cheek appeasal of the censorship, that it sounds delightfully silly.

The group finally reach the remote village they were heading to. As everyone files out of the cars, they notice a strange looking crow nearby - clearly Ya Qing is checking in on them. Lin Jing proceeds to tease Xiao Guo, saying the young man in unlucky. Chu Shuzhi is looking disapprovingly at this comment, but it’s actually Zhu Hong who shuts it down. She does use this excuse to make an impolite jab at Shen Wei, noting that the misfortunes are someone else’s fault, while looking at her romantic rival from the corner of her eye.

Shen Wei graces the screen with another one of his “why does the snake woman hate me?” faces. 

It’s quite amusing that as the group starts walking towards the guesthouse, Zhao Yunlan sends his people off while he himself deliberately lingers in place, so he can walk with Shen Wei, sneaking a hand across the professor’s back. 

Just as the company enters the premises of the guesthouse, they find a human skull. Of course they do. But the reason I am including this here is to point out that Shen Wei’s reaction is to cover Jiajia’s eyes. Zhu Yilong does not do it in all of the takes used in the scene, which indicates to me that this is an in the moment acting choice. 

Shen Wei then leads his students away to give the SID a chance to investigate. While Lin Jing and Zhao Yunlan do just that, Wang Zheng sinks to her knees and starts praying to comfort spirits of her ancestors. Hilariously, this goes unnoticed for a while.

After completing some preliminary checks on the skull, Zhao Yunlan suggests they park the investigation for the night, citing that he does not want students and their teacher to get ill as the reason for doing so. Da Qing notes that this is more considerations than he shows his subordinates. I don’t think he means it, but it’s a lovely little jab at Zhao Yunlan’s unmistakable crush.

Inside the house, everyone settles in to hear Wang Zheng’s tale of the Hanga tribe. What follows is an massive exposition dump. She sets up as “some things she heard from rumours”, but considering how forlorn she is throughout this tale - and that she was praying earlier - it is pretty obvious that she is of the Hanga tribe herself.

Again, I love the blocking here. Zhu Hong is keeping her shoulder in front of Wang Zheng, protecting her from the strangers (and Shen Wei) that they are sharing the table with. Zhao Yunlan and Da Qing are watching from afar, and Chu Shizhu is perching above them on the stairs. The composition is easy on the eye, and implies that the SID men are ready to protect those at the table from all directions.

Soon, they are interrupted by a villager pretending to be a ghost, and a reluctant village head explains that the outsides may not be welcomed because there has been a murder here in the recent days. Zhao Yunlan and Zhu Hong leave to investigate the crime scene. As they do so, Zhao Yunlan catches the woman gazing upon him in adoration, and freezes uncomfortably, for a second before laughing it off.

He should really force himself to have an uncomfortable conversation with her, but he won’t do it until pushed.

In the meanwhile, Zhu Jiu is having more luck riling the actual ghosts up than he did with the Youchu. After some hesitation - and some baseless threats from our unfortunate villain - the Hanga tribesmen launch an attack against the guesthouse.

Just to note: their masks don’t look anything like the masks Wang Zheng drew. Considering that the guesthouse parts of the episode was likely to have been shot together, I don’t see any explanation for this as it pertains to production.

Chu Shuzhi and Xiao Guo leap into action to fight the ghosts - and the young man actually successfully fends one of them off. They are soon joined by Lin Jing, who leaves Shen Wei in charge of looking after the students and Wang Zheng inside the house. The ghost woman energy being asks to be let outside because she guesses correctly that the ghostly warriors are here for her, but Shen Wei refuses to let her go. The reason he states for denying her is that “Zhao Yunlan would never agree to it.” He knows that the other man would never put his crew in danger - and adopts the same attitude.

Shortly after, Zhu Hong and Zhao Yunlan arrive on the scene.

Here we see for the first time Zhao Yunlan’s painful flashback to his mother’s death, followed by him freezing with the gun in his hand. Zhu Hong does save the way by snatching the weapon away from him and firing it, but she also goes on full offensive afterwards, berating the man. Hers is not a kind response at all, and this type of a reaction is likely to be the reason Zhao Yunlan has not felt comfortable talking about his tragic past, perhaps even seeing it as something to be ashamed of.

After the ghosts disappear, Zhao Yunlan stays outside with his team, and uses the Dial in attempt to locate the other ancient item which he knows is somewhere close.

Shen Wei, on the other hand, tells Wang Zheng about the totem hidden in a cave, and asks her for any information on the matter.

His interrogation does not get him anywhere, but he does get suspicious enough to refrain him from drinking the drugged water she offers everyone present in the very next scene.

It is clear from this shot that after toasting with warm water, everyone goes to down their cups - apart from Wang Zheng and Shen Wei, who lock eyes over their cups for the second.

Having escaped her protectors in the night, Wang Zheng heard towards the cave in which Sang Zan’s spirit is kept, Zhu Jiu hot on her heals, and we witness the first of many flashbacks to her life and death.

Next up, Episode 10: Death By a Thousand Flashbacks.

—

Notes.

The next post here will actually be some thoughts on the Lost Tomb Reboot which I have spent this Easter Weekend binging. And if this post is more Zhu Yilong-centric than usual, this would also be why.

[smuckersblr]

The Bartender

A bartender AU for the pairing of Izuku+Aizawa....

at first this was a joke, but now I dont know.... 

(but this is just a little taste of this story)

--------------

“Alright let's get into the nitty gritty.”

“You do drugs?”

“...”

“And before you think to lie about it–I don’t really give a shit, I'm just kinda mandated to say this stuff in an interview.”

“No.”

“Have you been incarcerated or received a felony charge?”

“No.”

“Then it looks like your fuckin’ hired, kid.”

Thats when Izuku knew he wanted to fuck his boss, Shouta Aizawa.

Rewind back to a week before this interview, in the sheer carnal need of finding a fucking job that would financially support him to survive and not be essentially homeless– again. Izuku got laid off at his full time job that he’s had throughout college and three breakups. So a job that has been with him throughout very impactful moments in his life.

He was at his lowest point in life at that moment, he realized it as soon as he looked at the way he was living. As if one morning, instead of wishing for it to end and restart over again like he was so used to already, he went job hunting.

He remembers exactly what he wore that day, down to the color he chose to wear for his underwear. It was a dark gray, he remembered wanting to match every accessory in his outfit. He wore dark tones that day, maybe because the shift in the clouds inspired him somehow, or he just had a feeling.

To this day he could swear it was because he was going to meet him. Izuku knew he looked good, he could see it in the eyes of men in the train frantically looking away once he lifted his green eyes up at them.

He could hear it in the sigh of the woman who was asking him questions, like what were his past jobs. He felt it when the man sitting across from him in a suit and tie looked at him as if he wanted to eat him alive.

But when he met him…it was like he had no effect on the man whatsoever.

Like what has been happening all day with Izuku, was all just in his pretty little head.

He remembers the way Aizawa was standing behind the bar, cleaning the aged wood with noticeable cracks and carvings, his left hand gripping loosely at the wood to stabilize himself while he polished the wood with his right hand. His hair was tied back loosely, his thin sleeves rolled up like saggy fabric at the base of his forearm. The defined line of muscle set something ablaze in Izuku’s mind. But he had shoved it back and focused on the mission.

Aizawa hadn’t looked up and smiled like all the other interviewers. He didn’t shout out a pleasantry and tried for a formal shake of the hand. Aizawa had kept wiping, eyes zeroed in on the wood, yet they seemed unfocused like he was falling asleep to the rhythm of his cleaning.

“Excuse me,” Izuku’s voice drowned out the faintly playing football game. It sounded louder than he had wanted, but he just assumed it sounded like that due to how empty the bar was. Granted it was only 10 am.

“I was wondering if you guys were hiring right now.” Izuku pushed on, slowly gaining his confidence back once he saw another worker from the back walk over to them. The blonde's eyes landed directly onto Izuku, like a damn magnet to a fridge.

“Yeah we’re hiring!” The loud abrasive voice threw Izuku off his balance, and the bubbling excitement and sheer delight at receiving a new thing to focus on in his life soon fizzled out once the man polishing the wood stopped moving.

“No, we’re not hiring. We don’t allow anyone 18 and under to serve drinks here.” He spoke lowely, like he didn’t have the energy to raise his voice, like he knew anyone would listen anyway.

“Last time I checked, I’m twenty one.” Izuku crossed his arms and cocked his hip out, finally seeing the face of the man he would soon obsess over for months.

The gruff man had looked up, down to the soles of Izuku’s sneakers, all the way up to his hair. Both mens eyes having scanned his body with such a deep intense gaze that shouldn’t have made him feel so smug.

Izuku felt as if he was being praised, sure, maybe the blonde was impressed and appreciative of Izuku’s looks and body. But Aizawa had looked from his body and then to his eyes as if he was looking over a child. Like he didn’t see Izuku the way everyone else did to him.

He couldn’t take Izuku seriously.

And Izuku loathed that.

“And I got an ID to prove it.” Izuku raised a brow challengingly, enjoying this tug and pull between the two.

Maybe he was insane, but Izuku believed that Aizawa also enjoyed this. Izuku looked down to his bag, feeling things with his knuckles before feeling the cool leather of his wallet. The wallet that had his age and birthdate on a piece of plastic that had unknowingly made another impact on his life.

Aizawa had looked at the picture…then to Izuku… and then back to the picture. The blonde man (introduced as Hizashi Yamada) had been looking from behind the taller man’s shoulder, trying to not irritate the man, but eventually doing so once he kept trying to push on his shoulder to help him see better over his height. “Looks real to me.” Yamada had mumbled under his breath, receiving a grunt back from Aizawa.

He just stared and held onto his ID, mulling over the idea probably. Going through all the reasons why they don't need a new bartender, but also going through the reasons why they need an extra hand in the bar. ‘Young blood’, his old friend and teacher would’ve fondly said.

“You wanna work here?”

Izuku absolutely lit up at the sound of those words coming from that man's lips. Izuku lowered his arms and fisted his hands together, giving his sweetest smile that had Yamada absolutely crooning for him.

“Then come to the back.” Aizawa sighed and walked away with the towel and Izuku’s ID.

The greennette smiled and giddily made his way after the man, giving a cheerful ‘thank you’ as Yamada opened the bar's countertop to let the young man in. Izuku had known that this was the path he wanted to choose, the moment he stepped into the office.

He sat across from the small desk, covered messily with paperwork and envelopes, the screen crooked as if turned to accommodate the user who leaned back on the cracked leather office chair. He still remembers the cold leather he sat on, it somehow seeped through the material to pool on the meat of his leg, setting a chill up the young man's spine.

The nauseating orange that was too opaque made Izuku feel right. As if he belonged here, with this man, in his office. The two of them just look at each other…admire each other. The way it's supposed to be for them.

And then Aizawa opened his mouth.

[possiamo-andare]

Invisible String: JJ Maybank

JJ x OC

MASTERLIST

word count: 9.9k

summary: based off the lyrics from Taylor Swift’s song “Invisible String”, this story follows an original character named Charlotte “Charlie” Summers, a hopeless romantic who unfortunately falls in love with JJ Maybank. At first, he wants nothing to do with her but after one night, he realizes that maybe he was wrong about love after all. 

a/n: I was writing this while I wasn’t feeling myself and because of that, it’s not like my usual stories. The ending is hopeful but open ended and it’s very angsty. I know some people don’t like Taylor Swift but this song off her new album is seriously so amazing. Try to be open minded while you listen to the album and I promise it won’t disappoint. have fun reading :)

~ 

Green was the color of the grass

Where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

She had enjoyed sitting in parks and reading the Feminine Mystique while the only time he sat to read was when he was in school, if he ever showed. She was a hopeless romantic, pining and obsessing after every long haired, rebel without a cause she saw. There was a new boy every week. Not that she ever dated them. No, she only watched them from afar, wondering what shampoo they used or how their eyes would crinkle when they laughed. There was something beautifully innocent about these attractions and so, for a very long time, she just sat on the same park bench from afar and watched a number of beautiful people pass her; they were completely oblivious to the fact a girl was admiring them only a few feet away.

He was the polar opposite. It was not that he didn’t believe in love because he loved his friends but JJ never wanted anyone to love him. And, unlike many teenagers, he was okay with not being loved. Love was for the weak, for people who needed validation from others. He needed none of that. If a girl ever liked him, he would use and lose them quickly, making sure they hated him by the end of it. Love weakened him and he didn’t have the time to be weak when everyone around him expected him to be strong.

Teal was the color of your shirt

When you were sixteen at the yogurt shop

You used to work at to make a little money

She had asked him when they first met if he liked the colour teal. Random yes, but it wasn’t a meaningless question. Men associated teal with feminine activities, such as braiding hair and dressing dolls and any man who recoiled at that answer meant that they would not be compatible. When he didn’t recoil and instead vigorously nodded his head, she knew he was the one. JJ thought of how the waves felt between his fingers and his mother’s eyes when he thought of teal. Subsequently, the colour teal would rear its head in their relationship many times. For it was the colour of his favourite shirt and the colour of the ocean where they met.

His answer, although enthusiastic, was about the only interesting thing he thought she had said. When JJ first met her, there was no undeniable pull. Unlike her, he just saw a plain girl. Pretty, yes, but plain. She was the type of girl he could learn to love in time, but he was not interested in waiting a few months to feel something for her. Instead, he wanted carnal and immediate affection. He wanted to feel the pull instantly. Realistically, the relationship with instant attraction lasted only a few weeks until it wore off but JJ was not looking for a realistic love. Not at first anyways.

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn’t see?

He wondered, later on, if his instant distaste for her was the reason the universe made them stumble in and out of each other’s lives for so long. He thought it was the universe trying to teach him a lesson. The lesson being a person that you think is insignificant, could actually turn out to be the most important person in your life.

They saw each other for the second time at his job. To try and get some extra money, JJ decided to get a job. Unfortunately the only job he seemed he could find was one at an ice cream parlor. It was embarrassing for him but he had to wear a teal shirt (his favourite colour), so he swallowed his pride and started at Figure 8’s only ice cream parlor. Unfortunately for him, JJ hated Kooks. This hate only grew when every customer he served was a Kook. They were all obnoxious and rude, two qualities he suspected they would have. But he bit his tongue and served even the people with the worst attitudes. Two weeks after she and JJ met at the beach, she entered the same ice cream parlor with her friends. Sarah Cameron, along with her boyfriend Topper and her brother Rafe, were all too preoccupied with their difficult decision on what to order to notice that their friend was acting oddly.

Oddly would be an understatement. She was mortified. Not only was her hair matted because she was surfing all day, but she was also wearing no makeup. These two things, along with the fact she was completely caught off guard that JJ was an employee at this parlor made her disastrously nervous. As they waited in line, she asked Sarah for her mirror.

“Mirror? Why the hell do you need a mirror?” Sarah questioned, a confused look written over her face. When her friends didn’t answer (or was too embarrassed to do so), she followed her eye line to the blonde boy who was scooping ice cream. “JJ? Really Charlie?”

Charlie frowned, her face hot. “He’s nice.” She said this so casually, it almost seemed as if she had known JJ her entire life.

But Sarah, although spending a limited amount of time with JJ, knew more about him than Charlie did. “No, he’s not.”

“Who’s nice?” Rafe butted in, only hearing Sarah’s last words to Charlie and trying to catch up on the conversation he missed.

“No one!” Charlie rushed, glancing at Sarah for her to play along.

The last thing Charlie wanted was for Rafe or Topper to know about her crush on JJ. Although she hung out with these boys, it was only to be polite. If Charlie had to choose, she would rather solely spend her time with Sarah. Although weary on why this already weird girl was acting even more so, Rafe was too tired to press for more and instead gave Charlie a puzzled look and turned back to face Topper, who was too busy deciding on what to order.

“Charlie’s gonna order for us.” Sarah announced, watching in amusement as her friend’s face contorted in fear.

“Hm?” Charlie gulped, glancing at the line that was coming dangerously close to JJ.

Sarah grinned. “We’ll pay for it as long as you order for us.” Sarah paused for a moment, a mischievous grin on her lips. “Or are you too scared?”

Charlie shook her head, indignant. “I am not.”

Sarah nudged Charlie forward, watching as the girl came face to face with JJ Maybank.

JJ was surprised to see her here. Of course, he knew he would have to see her eventually. He worked in the only ice cream parlor for miles and it was only a matter of time before the pretty girl with a name he did not remember finally stumbled across this parlor. As he watched her stumble over her words as she ordered, his heartbeat picked up speed. He swallowed harshly, wondering why a girl who only a few weeks ago he could care less about was now making him feel nervous.

“I’ll have t-two, um, rocky r-roads…” Charlie scrambled to remember the order her friends listed off to her, her mind running faster than her brain.

JJ nodded, looking up every so often to indirectly tell her he was listening. Her wet hair stuck to her cheeks, clearly drying in a matted way. He had a strong urge to reach out and push the hair behind her ears, something he never wanted to do before now. So what changed? JJ shook his head, trying to clear his mind as he wrote the order properly. Nothing changed, he convinced himself. He was only caught off guard by her presence.

“That’s it?” JJ calmly said, thanking an omniscient being that he had not acted as nervous as she was. He had a growing suspicion that this girl had a crush on him which only made him embarrassed since he didn’t want to believe he felt anything for her.

Y//N nodded, wanting to pinch herself just so she could calm down. “Yep.”

“Okay,” JJ ripped off the note from his pad and stuck it on the board where a bunch of his co-workers were ready to scoop. “Your order will be ready soon.”

Charlie nodded, forcing her head to move smoothly as to draw attention away from her shaky hands. “Thanks.”

Before she had time to move farther down the line, JJ spoke again. He wanted to put these feelings down to rest, proving to himself that he did not feel anything towards a girl he barely knew. “I think I’ve met you before. What’s your name?”

JJ knew this would hurt her feelings because they had met quite recently. Although it did hurt her feelings, she knew not to take it too personally because she was a girl hardly anyone noticed. “It’s Charlie.”

JJ nodded, smirking as he remembered the name. His heartbeat finally slowed down. Maybe he really felt nothing and it was only the embarrassment of seeing her again that made his heartbeat pick up. “I’m -”

“JJ. I know.” She interrupted him, watching as her friends slowly started to move farther down the line. Before she held up the line any more, she sweetly smiled at JJ and said, “I remember because you’re named after the producer of Lost.”

With that last comment, she walked farther down the line and closer to her friends. As Sarah asked her what happened and Charlie soaked up the embarrassment she felt, JJ wanted to laugh. She had just confirmed his suspicions; she had a crush on JJ. This did not seem to matter to JJ all that much since numerous girls in OBX had fallen victim to his blue eyes and cocky smirk. Although she wasn’t the first girl to ever have a crush on him, she was the first he could care less about. Usually he would use these infatuations to his advantage but this time he had no interest in Charlie. Although this was true, he was also bored out of his mind. He hadn’t been laid in a week or so and that was a long time when you were JJ Maybank. He knew how easy it would be to invite a girl that acted like that back to his home and, against his better judgement, he decided to do it.

This was mostly against his better judgement for two reasons. One, she was a Kook and JJ hated Kooks. He rarely slept with any of them, annoyed by their very presence. He usually went for Pogues or tourists, two kinds of girls he got along with better. Two, she seemed to have some type of infatuation with him which was dangerous territory. The girls that JJ slept with liked him, but it never went past the surface. Those girls didn’t give him the heart eyes she was giving him and that’s why he spent time with them. He knew it was cruel to sleep with a girl that felt so strongly towards him, especially when he felt nothing towards them, and that’s why he rarely slept with those types of girls. But he was willing to break that rule for some fun.

You might be thinking right about now that JJ Maybank is a miscreant and for that, you would be correct.

As he watched her pay for her order and get her ice cream, he seemed to be in a daze. As he watched her talk to her friends, her mind elsewhere, he thought of how he would ask her out and inevitably sleep with her. I’m warning you now, you won’t like JJ for most of this story. He’s greedy and selfish. Like a hurricane, he sweeps up whatever is around him and destroys it. And he has a fun time doing it.

Just as Charlie and her friends exited the parlor, his boss told him it was time for his break since he seemed ‘a little out of it.’ Without so much as a nod, JJ made his way past the line of customers, watching as Charlie closed the door behind her.

“Charlie!” JJ raised his voice, catching the girl’s attention.

“What does he want?” Rafe asked, stepping forward and trying to grab onto Charlie’s hand and pull her away from a Pogue he hated. Although Rafe would only admit it if there was a gun to his head, he had feelings for Charlie that he knew she would never reciprocate. Seeing JJ chase after her and seeing her stop, only added to his heartbreak.

“Let’s give them some privacy…” Sarah whispered as JJ approached them, confidently staring at Charlie who was averting her gaze. She was too embarrassed to watch JJ step closer and closer to her.

Just as Sarah pulled her boyfriend and brother away from Charlie, JJ finally stood in front of Charlie. He never asked girls out. It usually was implied that he wanted to spend time with them because if he didn’t, he would just avoid them like the plague.

He would admit to himself, as he approached Charlie, he felt guilty. She seemed like a sweet girl but should be with someone who could give her everything. That also begged the question in JJ’s mind; what did she want from him? She was a Kook after all and if she genuinely just liked him, that would be the first time a Kook was ever genuine about anything. Surprisingly, it made JJ feel better about using her if she was a Kook. He hated Kooks, especially Rafe, and sleeping with this Kook Princess was definitely going to piss off some Kooks.

“I have the first season on DVD at my house. Wanna come over some time and watch it?” JJ looked at his hand, watching as he loosened his grip on the ends of his teal shirt.

Charlie was surprised but did her best to hide it. She thought she was successful but JJ could see right through and it only added to his ego when he saw her bewilderment. Slowly but surely, Charlie finally answered with a nod. JJ nodded back, waiting for her to say something and when he realized she wouldn’t, he spoke again.

“What about tomorrow night?”

She only nodded again, her heart thumping in her chest. She was afraid JJ could hear the beat of her heart because it was so loud in her ears. Fortunately JJ did not and instead turned around and made his way back to the parlor. He felt a slight squeeze around his heart but ignored it, thinking it was because he had just asked a girl out and was feeling guilty about it. Charlie felt the same squeeze but did not dismiss it as JJ had. Instead, she saw it as an invisible string finally tying around her heart and connecting to JJ’s.

And isn’t it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

For her, that night couldn’t come fast enough. For JJ, he could care less. Not that he wasn’t excited to get laid but that seemed to be it for him. It was nothing more than a hookup and he promised he would explain that to her when she got to his house. Thankfully his father was gone for the weekend, leaving JJ to be at his house for as long as he wanted to.

As Charlie sat at Sarah’s vanity, letting her friend pluck her eyebrows and blend her makeup, JJ was sitting on his couch and watching tv. He was less than nervous. Yes, he was nervous when he first was speaking to her but her adorableness had caught him off guard. Now, he was ready for her. He would always be ready for her now.

As the time came closer and closer to their ‘date’, Sarah felt obligated to inform her friend on who she was about to go on a date with. She loved Charlie like a sister and wasn’t about to let a boy she knew to be a troublemaker and a womanizer destroy her friend’s perception of love. Her friend had never been in a  relationship and had a limited experience with boys which meant she didn’t understand how cruel some of them could be. To settle the arguments in her mind, she decided to just advise her friend to be careful. Although Charlie understood her friend’s apprehensiveness, she thought she understood JJ like the back of her hand. He had a tough exterior but on the inside, he was just as fragile as any other person. She was willing to meet the real JJ. Unfortunately, what she didn’t know yet was that her heart had to break first before she met the real JJ.

Although JJ had a number of girls come over at his house, he rarely asked them out days before. Usually they would come home with him the same night he met them. To say JJ was underprepared was an understatement. He only realized he had a date that night when she rang the doorbell. In a hurried mess, he threw on the cleanest shirt he had and rushed to open the door. Tripping only once, he successfully made it to the door. When he opened the door, all his worries melted away. And no, it was not because she was breathtaking but because he remembered it was only Charlie. Plain Charlie.

She was considerably more nervous than him, being as it was only her first date. But she took a deep breath and took everything one step at a time. She felt pretty, her hair done in a nice braid and wearing her favourite shorts, and pretended as if she was one of those girls who carried themselves as if they were an angel that graced everyone’s presence. She saw her walk as dainty but JJ barely noticed, distracted by her bare legs. They were virtually smooth (meaning she shaved) and tan.

“Where’s your tv?” Charlie asked, watching as JJ looked up from her legs and to her eyes.

JJ’s house, although not anything like hers, was cozy and she liked it. There were beer cans thrown everywhere and she knew JJ had made no effort to clean anything up but still, his house looked as if someone lived in it. Granted, it was a messy individual but nonetheless, it was a home. Her house was always too clean and looked deserted.

“In my room.” JJ stated, walking in front of her and opening the door to his room. He looked behind him, watching as she did not make any movement towards him. Just as he began to get confused he remembered that she was deathly awkward and might not be okay with being in his room. Showing an ounce of concern for someone other than himself for the first time in weeks, he said, “Is that okay?”

Charlie cleared her throat, nodding quickly before picking up her feet and walking through the threshold of JJ’s door. She wanted to seem nonchalant about being in his room but JJ saw right through her. Either she was just nervous or she had never been in a boy’s bedroom. The latter was true. If JJ had known that, he would have never let her in his room. He had always believed he was not good enough to be anyone’s first for anything, including a small thing like that.

Charlie softly sat on the edge of JJ’s bed, watching as the boy bent down and put the DVD through the DVD player. When his back was to her, her eyes finally drifted to his right wall where a small picture of him as a child, hugging a woman who shared the same features as he did. She had stuck two fingers, which were supposed to be bunny ears, behind his head and plastered on a huge grin. JJ, oblivious to the fingers behind his head, only gave a toothy grin as he looked into the camera.

When JJ finally got up from his seat on the floor, he sat right next to Charlie. She was right on the edge of his bed, sitting very close to the tv. She seemed a little stiff and JJ hoped she would relax soon. Although her body was in front of the tv, her head was turned elsewhere. When he realized what picture she was looking at, he immediately felt embarrassed. That picture was usually never hung but JJ had felt nostalgic last night and hung it up to look at but never took it down.

Before he could speak, she did first. “Is that your mother?” This was the first clear and confident sentence she had spoken since they met and JJ was almost surprised to see that her regular voice was lower than he first thought.

JJ nodded for a second, grasping to find a subject he could change to. He looked at the tv screen and handed the remote to Charlie, finally knowing what to say. “What episode?”

Charlie scrolled down, through the first season before deciding to pick the first episode. As the opening scene started to play, JJ chuckled to himself, scooting closer to the edge of the bed to get closer to Charlie. He saw that this movement made her nervous but he only scooted closer.

“Why’d you laugh?” Charlie asks, her voice once again softer. She seemed to be nervous again and JJ only found it adorable. “You don’t like the first episode.”

JJ knew it was going to be more difficult to get this girl to kiss him since he doubted she’d ever make the first move. Indulging her, he answered her question. “It just tells me a lot about your personality.”

Charlie’s face contorted in confusion, her eyes off the screen and on JJ now. “What does this tell you exactly?”

JJ smirked. “That you’re a real neat freak. You need things to have a beginning, middle and end. Probably a hopeless romantic. You love the stories of girl meets guy, they fall in love and get married. The end.”

Charlie, a little upset he read her so precisely, only rolled her eyes and tried not to be too offended. “And what episode would you have chosen?”

JJ shrugged, thinking for a moment before answering. “Probably the last one.”

Charlie nodded, scratching her chin. “Probably means you hate to follow the norm. You hate beginnings and middles and the end. You don’t like structure and you probably think love is a little dumb.” When she sees JJ’s smirk falter, she continues. “How right was I?”

JJ was slightly surprised at how accurate she had been. Yet again, he found himself trying to remain calm. “Pretty right.”

Charlie smirked, bowing her head. “Thank you.” Her eyes turned back to the screen, watching as a scene unfolded in front of her.

JJ wasn’t done with the conversation though, upset that a girl he thought he had figured out turned out to be not what he expected. She was shy, he thought. In some ways she was, but at the same time she wasn’t going to let JJ shamelessly make fun of her. She had some type of backbone, however small. He watched her instead of the screen, so confused how he had gotten her personality so wrong. Eventually, she saw he was not paying attention and she looked back to him, sheepishly making eye contact. JJ was confused again. How could she be outwardly intelligent one second and shy the next? This girl was more complicated than he thought.

On your first trip to LA

Bad was the blood of the song in the cab

You ate at my favorite spot for dinner

“Is there something else you wanted to add?” Charlie innocently asked, embarrassed that JJ was watching her so intently.

JJ shrugged, glancing at the screen before looking back at her. “Wondering if the rest of my profile is correct about you.”

He watched as Charlie chuckled at the word profile. He suddenly felt embarrassed, realizing it wasn’t the coolest thing to say in the moment. She shrugged and said, “I don’t know. What is it?”

JJ wanted to say so much but he couldn’t. She wasn’t what he thought she was. She was multifaceted, shy and confident. Meek and talkative. Instead, he felt himself more interested in what she thought about him. This had never happened before. JJ never thought they would do this much talking. He never thought their conversations would get this deep this fast. Especially with a Kook.

“I don’t know. What about me?”

Charlie smiled, glancing at that picture on the wall before speaking. “Definitely a mama’s boy. She probably taught you how to surf.” As she talked, JJ’s heart rate picked up pace. She was getting close to dangerous waters. No one talked about his mother. Not even his closest friends. “That photo tells me two things. One, that she was the heart of the family because she knew how to be goofy. Two, she left because there’s no other pictures of her in the house. Your dad -”

JJ had heard enough. It was too much. She was right about too much. He rarely spoke about his mom, too many buried memories. Without allowing her to speak any longer, JJ got up from his seat beside her and stood by the door. His hand was on the knob, watching as she stopped talking and a concerned expression crossed her face. JJ rolled his eyes, her fake sympathy only angering him. The last thing he needed was an empathetic Kook going around telling everyone his sob story. He didn’t care how needy he was, he was not going to sleep with her now.

“I want you to leave.” JJ said hoarsely, his throat closing as he tried to hold back tears.

As he said this, Charlie’s heart thumped in her ears. She quickly got up from her seat and slowly moved towards an angry JJ. With his hand still clutched around the knob, she slowly approached him. “JJ… I didn’t mean -”

“No,” JJ tensed up again as he saw her approach him. “You Kooks never do.”

Charlie stops in her tracks, soaking in his last words. “Kooks?”

JJ rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you Kooks. You wanna hear a real profile? All you Kooks are so fucking unhappy with your shitty lives you have to bother us with your bullshit. Well, I’m not gonna sit here and let you make me seem like a little poor boy who misses his mom.”

Charlie stays still and waits for JJ to finish before she speaks. “I’m sorry if I hit a nerve, I didn’t know I would be right.”

JJ cackled sarcastically, the door still not open. “Whatever.”

Charlie frowned. “JJ, I’m sorry. You’re right. I am a Kook and I couldn’t possibly understand -”

“Shut up.” JJ hisses, finally taking his hand off the door knob.

He does not move it again and for a minute, Charlie thinks he might not let her go. Then she sees why he’s moved his hand. His hand moves to his chest where she realizes he is having a panic attack. JJ falls to his knees, clutching his chest and heaving. Charlie rushes forward and wraps her arms around him, trying to get him to calm down. She feels like this is completely her fault. She opened a wound that hasn’t fully healed. It was all a joke but she took it too far.

“JJ,” Charlie said as she grasped onto each of his shoulder blades. He made eye contact with her, his face beat red from lack of oxygen. “Try and breathe.”

This had never happened to JJ before, let alone with a girl in his room. Yes, he would have a couple of panic attacks every couple of weeks but never in public and never in front of a girl he wanted to sleep with. The embarrassment only added to the inability to breathe. His mind raced a mile a minute, screaming for him to just breathe. But it was easier said than done. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breath coming out in large heaves. His chest was hurting and he honestly believed he was going to die. In front of a Kook, nonetheless.

JJ shook his head at Charlie, trying to tell her he couldn’t. Charlie nodded, holding eye contact. “Yes you can.” Her hands moved from his shoulders to his face, gently cupping both sides of his face. “Breathe in.” Charlie instructed for JJ to copy her as she took a deep breath. “Breathe out.”

At first, it was so difficult for him to do but Charlie was not about to give up on him. As minutes passed, she continued to breathe with JJ and help him through his panic attack. Soon, his breaths became even again and only when she was sure he was okay, she let go of the sides of his face. They didn’t speak for many minutes, the both of them not finding the right words to say. They were only fighting ten minutes ago and just now, she had helped JJ through a difficult time where he couldn’t breathe.

Finally, Charlie was the first to speak. She stood up first, reaching out to help JJ up. When he got to his feet, his mind still a little foggy, she spoke. “JJ, I’m -”

“Shh.” JJ quieted her by shushing her.

Charlie instantly stopped speaking, looking directly at JJ. She was mortified because of what had happened and wanted nothing more than to apologize profusely. When JJ wouldn’t let her, she instead waited until he said his peace. She knew some bad words were going to be exchanged but she accepted that. After all, she had basically given him a panic attack. Instead, JJ did the exact opposite. He said nothing for a while. It seemed like he was debating something in his mind and when he finally had made his decision, he looked at Charlie. She was about to try and speak again but she never got the chance; JJ’s hands quieting her. He reached forward for her and cupped her face in his hands before pulling her forward into a heated kiss. This kiss had caught her off guard and she barely had time to react and kiss him back before his lips were off hers again.

JJ felt how hot his cheeks were becoming as he watched Charlie look at him in awe. He had never felt so embarrassed to kiss a girl before but now, he was. He tried to convince himself it was because of his most recent episode, his whole body was weak and was mistaking weakness for nervousness.

As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, JJ finally spoke. “Sorry.” JJ wanted to slap himself. Why in the hell did he say sorry? He watched as Charlie shook her head, a smile on her face.

“It’s okay.” She whispered, her lips tingling. That was her first kiss and it felt wonderful. And this time, the feeling was mutual.

With a huge surge of confidence, Charlie grabbed JJ by the collar and pulled his forward. When he was only inches away, she leaned in close and kissed him. JJ reacted quicker than her, kissing her back almost instantly. Although this was only the first time she was kissing a boy, JJ would have never guessed that was so. She kissed very passionately, even knowing when to break for air. Slowly, as their kisses deepened, JJ guided her to his bed where he wanted her. This time, he had no ill intentions.

Bold was the waitress on our three-year trip

Getting lunch down by the Lakes

She said I looked like an American singer

JJ never lay on his back when girls kissed him. Instead, he always took charge, hovering over them. His hands would be on their belt in no time and the rest was easy. This time, however, he lay on his back and allowed for Charlie to hover over him as they kissed.

This part was supposed to be easy for him. This was his specialty but, as he kissed Charlie with his hands still not moving from her face, he seemed to forget. It was as if the last years of sexual escapades had never happened and he was a virgin again. This only annoyed him. He wanted to impress her. He wanted to show her how skilled he was but his arms seemed to be limp as Charlie’s hands dropped lower and lower, caressing his body. JJ almost felt embarrassed. He had been waiting to sleep with Charlie ever since that day at the parlor and now, he seemed like an innocent virgin who was scared to make the first move.

Charlie lay on JJ, her legs entangled in his. “JJ, you can touch me, if you want.” She felt slightly embarrassed by what she said but she had a feeling JJ was too nervous to notice. He seemed to be frozen in place, an awkward boy who she knew was experienced.

JJ nodded, glancing at her lips before connecting them once again and kissing her. He felt even more embarrassed now. A girl, who he knew to not be as nearly as experienced as he was, was now telling him how to make out. The world had obviously turned on its axis. There was no way he wasn’t in an alternate universe. Still, he nodded his head and finally moved his hands from her face to the end of her back. As they continued to kiss, his hands lay there and he made a point to softly caress them back and forth.

JJ had never felt as embarrassed as he did then. Not only was he acting if he never touched a girl before, but his heart beat was thumping so loudly in his head, he thought he might faint. This had never happened and he wondered why, out of all the girls, was it happening with Charlie? He had hooked up with girls hotter than Charlie and they never scared him but now, this plain brunette had changed something. As their kissing developed into more, clothes thrown haphazardly all over the floor, JJ asked himself if maybe it was different because he had never met a girl like Charlie ever. Finally, he felt the same string Charlie had felt before and it knotted around his heart, pulling him closer to Charlie.

Time, mystical time

Cutting me open, then healing me fine

Were there clues I didn’t see?

When it was all said and done and Charlie lay beside him, tired and naked, JJ knew he’d never be the same. Everything was different. The kisses had become more intense. The heat of adoration radiated from her body, and for the very first time, JJ made love to someone. It was so overwhelming, particularly for someone who had never been handled like this before. As Charlie snuggled closer to JJ, her eyes ready to close any minute, JJ started to get scared. 

“You okay?” Charlie asked, even though she was in more pain than he was. She had just lost her virginity to JJ and he didn’t even know. She decided against telling him for now, scared to ruin the mood.

Although still in a lot of pain, she couldn’t be happier. She had always wanted to feel loved when she lost her virginity and she finally had. Charlie never took sex too seriously, even though she was a hopeless romantic because most of the time, it was never how you imagined it. She had been warned that it would be dull but that was not her experience at all. She felt safe and protected. JJ had barely said more than a word or two to her during but she could tell how nervous he was, which only made this experience more lovely to her. She was utterly happy beyond belief in that moment.

JJ couldn’t speak, his throat rough. Instead, he nodded slowly and mustered up enough strength to say only one word. “Sleep.” And so she did.

You have to understand where JJ is coming from before I tell you the rest of the story. He grew up with an abusive father, one that would hurt more than he loved. His mother was his shining light, taking any bad situation and turning it into a good one. She loved JJ but was mentally ill herself and the more violent his father got, the more her mind would deteriorate. Sometimes, his mother would be so depressed, she would forget to feed him and JJ had to make his only lunch at six years old. Although his mother tried her best, JJ spent most of his childhood alone until he met John B., Kiara and Pope. And he only met them after his mother left when he was six. JJ grew up in an unstable home where the people that were supposed to love each other, didn’t. He grew up not believing in love and in turn, never experienced love. Of course, he loved his friends but that was a different kind of love. Every girl he was with was just another way to fill the void where he knew romantic love was supposed to be. That’s why he never felt guilty about inviting Charlie over; he was sure nothing would come out of it. But here he was, feeling the emotion he had thought never existed. So, in order to protect himself from what he knew to be the scariest thing to happen to him, he decided to never talk to Charlie again. 

She was the only girl to ever change his mind about love so, instead of facing his feelings head on, he hid from her. After that day, she tried to call him but he never answered. Everytime her number appeared on his phone, he felt the string connecting him to her tug a little but he never answered the phone. He was scared and people who are scared do stupid things.

Charlie had no experience with boys before JJ so at first, she had no idea he was avoiding her. At first, she suspected he was busy. He did have a job and it took up most of his time. Although she tried to be positive, as the days progressed into weeks, she soon realized he was not busy but in fact avoiding her. It came to her after two weeks of leaving messages on his phone and silence. She was with Sarah and Rafe, watching the sun set as they made s’mores. It came to her all at once as she watched the sky get darker and when it sunk in, she burst into tears. At first, they were silent tears but the second Sarah noticed and asked her if she was okay, she started blubbering like an idiot. Sarah had suspected something was wrong but wanted Charlie to come to her organically, not forcing her to tell her what was bothering her. Rafe wanted to stay, due to his feelings for Charlie. Sarah would not allow him to be around and only when he left, did she finally ask Charlie to tell her the entire story.

And when she did, all Sarah saw was red. Charlie was the sweetest person she knew. When they were eight years old, Charlie had introduced herself to Sarah by kissing the paper cut on her thumb and praying for a speedy recovery. Everyone loved Charlie; it was hard not to. She was good to every person she met and to see JJ disregard her like this upset Sarah in so many ways. 

“You should just march right up to his steps and give him a piece of your mind.” Sarah frowned, wrapping her arms around her crying friend.

“Y-you know I c-can’t.” Charlie sobbed, hiccups interrupting her words.

Sarah leaned back, making eye contact with her friend. “And why not?”

Charlie shrugged, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Her cheeks were stained black from her running mascara. “I’m embarrassed.”

Sarah stood up from her seat beside Charlie and scoffed loud enough for Rafe to hear on the other side of the door. Although he had left the room, he wanted to eavesdrop and find out what was wrong with Charlie. The more that was revealed, the angrier he got.

“Charlotte!” Sarah sang, only using her first name when she was upset with Charlie. “You are not the embarrassment in this situation. That Pogue is.”

“I just don’t think I can. I’m not that type of girl.” Charlie shrugged, sifting through her bag to find the makeup wipes and extra tube of mascara she keeps in there. “I’m not a confrontational girl.” She started wiping the black stains off her cheeks, glancing up at Sarah who was pacing the room back and forth.

Sarah crossed the room once more, kneeling in front of Charlie. “You can be.” She grabbed the wipe from Charlie’s hand and started to help her clean off the black stains. “You should be.”

And so, with a little extra mascara and confidence thanks to Sarah, Charlie decided that for at least today she would be that kind of girl. The girl that stands up for herself. She had hated confrontation but she knew Sarah was right. This was the type of situation where anyone should stand up for themself. JJ couldn’t use her anymore than he already had. She wouldn’t allow it. She was stronger. 

As Sarah drove to JJ’s house, Charlie in the passenger seat, Charlie kept trying to convince herself to be mean. Being mean never came naturally to Charlie but JJ had broken her and he deserved a little rudeness. It was hard though, for a particular reason. Everything had seemed so real. He really seemed nervous and it seemed like he truly cared for her. He had acted cocky at the beach when they first met and even when he was asking her out but never when they were alone. He was way more vulnerable with her. Sarah had said that maybe that was his plan and how he got so many girls to sleep with him but Charlie didn’t believe it. Not only because she loved JJ, but because if he was acting the entire time, he had to be the greatest actor in the world.

As Sarah parked in JJ’s driveway, the nerves finally set in for Charlie. She finally realized that this was actually happening and soon she would be confronting the boy that had hurt her so deeply. With a deep breath, she turned to Sarah and gave her a weary look.

“What do I even say?” Charlie asked, holding onto the door for balance. She felt light headed. 

Sarah shrugged. “What you feel.”

Although vague, Charlie understood what message her friend was trying to convey. Charlie had to speak from her heart and let JJ know how much he had hurt her, She didn’t know if he would try to apologize for his actions but she didn’t care. She was not looking for an apology. She loved JJ, she was not afraid to admit it, but she was not going to be dragged around like a lost puppy and made to look foolish. She had more dignity than that. She wasn’t sure why JJ did what he did. Maybe he was scared, or maybe he did it for fun but that wasn’t why she was upset. She was upset because he had not let her know what his true intentions were. Charlie believed in honesty before anything else and if JJ wasn’t going to be honest with her from the beginning, maybe he wasn’t the type of guy she thought he was. 

As she climbed the steps to his house, she thought back to when she first saw him. She had known the rumours about him before and she was warned by many people, Sarah included, but there had been something about him that was so magnetic. It was as if there was a small string connected to him that was pulling her forward. Looking back to their first encounter at the beach, she could see how uninterested he was in her. Hindsight is 20-20 though because in the moment she didn’t realize. She blamed herself in some ways . Maybe if she hadn’t been such a hopeless romantic, none of this would have happened. 

She stopped in front of his door, making no effort to knock on the door. Suddenly, relief washed over Charlie and she realized something. She was better than this. She didn’t need or want an explanation. The people that are nice to her, loved her. The people that went out of their way to help her are the people that love her. She was so in love with the idea of love that she forgot to remember what the reality was sometimes. The reality was that although everyone should be loved, some people don’t want that. Maybe JJ was one of those types of people or maybe not. It didn’t matter. She knew she deserved love and she didn’t need to yell at JJ or give him a piece of her mind to remind herself that she was worthy of love. She knew she was already. She took some comfort in knowing that she would not feel like this forever and soon, that string that had tied them together would break.

Without knocking on his door, Charlie turned right back around and made her way back to Sarah’s car. As she got in, she smiled for the first time in weeks. She felt better and she didn’t even need to talk to JJ.

“What happened?” Sarah questioned, watching as her friend who was now smiling buckled in.

“I just decided I’m better than that.” Charlie explained, finally looking to her friend. She was scared to see her friend’s reaction to this sudden realization but Sarah only smiled. 

As Sarah put her car in reverse, slowly moving farther and farther away from JJ’s house, she felt the invisible string around her heart loosen.

And isn’t it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Sarah had not been looking as she was pulling out of JJ’s driveway. She was too focused on her friend’s newfound confidence that she almost completely disregarded the blonde boy riding a skateboard behind her car. When she finally registered JJ in her rearview camera, she slammed her foot against the break and let out a loud gasp. JJ, who had been thinking of Charlie ever since he saw her last, looked up and, to his surprise, saw a red caravan two inches from him. He frowned, thinking it was one of those loudy child services social workers coming again unannounced. He got off his skateboard and trudged up to the drivers side of the car to tell them off. When he saw Sarah Cameron instead, his eyes widened. What the hell was she doing here? When his eyes shifted to the passenger’s seat, he gasped. 

Charlie, who was gripping onto her seat at the abrupt stop Sarah had made, had not looked up to see JJ on the outside of the car until Sarah called her name.

“Charlie?” Sarah squeaked out, looking to her friend who was trying to catch her breath.

“Hm?” She looked up, her eyes already wide with fear but when she saw JJ, she let a small gasp out as well. 

When her and JJ made eye contact, she knew she couldn’t avoid him any longer. She had to end this; she had to close this awful chapter out her life. So, with her hands shaking, she grabbed onto the ledge of the door and opened it. She swung her legs over the seat and shakingly placed them back on the ground. With a deep breath, she walked to the front of Sarah’s car, where JJ was waiting for her. 

“Charlie…” JJ sighed, seeing the girl he hadn’t stopped thinking about since he first met her. He had been lying to himself for too long. He had loved her the second she had asked him if he liked teal.

Teal. The colour of the shirt she was wearing now. Teal. The colour of his newly painted nails.

“I was gonna yell at you.” She said calmly, her eyes watering as she watched the boy that had caused her so much pain. It seemed that his eyes were watering too now but she wasn’t going to fall for it again. She couldn’t let herself fall again. “But I can’t be anyone but myself. We have to be who we are in this world. And if you wanna be like this for the rest of your life, please leave me out of it.”

“I’m sorry.” JJ blinked fast, not wanting to cry in front of her. He had caused her too much pain, his own pain seemed miniscule now. “I don’t even know who I am. People expect me to be so many things, I don’t know.”

Charlie shook her head. “Forget about what everyone else wants, figure out what you want.”

JJ shrugs. “I don’t know yet.”

“When you know, find me.” Charlie raises her hand to cup one of his cheeks. He rests his head against her hand for a moment but she pulls away too quickly. 

She starts to back away from him but before she can enter Sarah’s car again, JJ speaks. “I hope I haven’t changed your mind about love, Charlotte.”

The way he says her full name tells her everything. She gives him a small smile, shrugging. “Don’t worry, Maybank, I’m still a hopeless romantic.”

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons

Wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold

Tied me to you

Days turned into months and before they were both ready, JJ and Charlie graduated. They had seen each other on a few more occasions, such as at his work or at a party, but it was only ever a passing glance. People say time is the best healer and that much was true. For Charlie and JJ, they both felt better as time passed. Although time had passed and somewhat healed, they were not the same.

JJ, for one, had not slept with a single girl since he was with Charlie. He was utterly broken and for months, he refused to even go out to parties. But, with the persistence of his friends, he finally tried to get back into his old rhythm. And, with his old rhythm, came a slew of girls at his disposal. Surprisingly, JJ actually dated a few of them and decided against sleeping with them. Charlie had changed him in the best way. He no longer was fulfilled by one night stands and instead dated girls for weeks. This might not seem like much but for JJ, it was progress. None of them were like Charlie but, with each relationship, it taught him how to be a better person. For one of the first times in his life, he felt whole being by himself. He even got a scholarship to a college on the mainland for the Coast Guard Academy. JJ was beginning to find himself.

Charlie was different too. She grew more confident. She now could recognize when people were taking advantage of her and, instead of ignoring it like she usually would, she would face them head on. She also confronted Rafe with his infatuation with her, something she inadvertently knew about for a while now. They remained friends through it all and she actually respected Rafe even more after it. She also joined the debate team and found her calling; law. She loved debating and began her interest in law by reading tons and tons of textbooks for law school. After months and months of trying to get over JJ, she finally felt herself start to move on. That’s when she finally went out with David, a guy on her debate team. They went out for a couple of weeks and when it ended, it was amicable. Her love for David was nothing like JJ’s but he made her feel secure in her feelings and she appreciated his support. Towards the end of the school year, she had got accepted to Yale, the ivy league school of her choice. She would be away from her friends and family for four years or more but she was excited to start studying law. 

At their graduation, they both saw each other and, for the first time since they spoke, they smiled at each other. This smile was bittersweet considering they both still loved each other, but they were glad that life was going well for the both of them. They had grown and found themselves.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind

For the boys who broke my heart

Now I send their babies presents

One night, after classes in their respective schools had started, JJ had a revelation. He had returned to OBX for the weekend and found this revelation in his enemy; Rafe Cameron. 

JJ and his friends had promised each other to always meet for the weekend in OBX so they never lost touch but Pope and Kiara had been accepted in schools on the west coast so they were hours and hours away. John B and JJ kept their promises while Kiara and Pope skyped them and spoke all night. They were all still close, maybe even closer, since high school. One night, after Pope and Kiara had signed off, John B and JJ were still not tired and wanted to go out. Sarah had started dating John B only a few months before their graduation and although she was rude to JJ at first, he had grown on her. She wasn’t here this weekend so the boys were bored without her rambunctious ideas. John B had proposed they went out for late night ice cream and since JJ had no other ideas, he agreed to go.

As they waited in line, speaking amongst themselves, Rafe was waiting in line behind them. They had not seen him for months and, at first, they did not recognize him. Only when he tapped JJ’s shoulder, did their eyes widen at the sight of their old enemy. The first thing JJ saw was his teal shirt. His mind went to Charlie.

“What do you want?” John B was very aggressive when he first made eye contact with Rafe but JJ could see what John B didn’t. He wasn’t here to fight. His eyes were soft, almost said to see JJ and John B again.

“I wanna talk to JJ.” His voice is just above a whisper and somehow, JJ trusts him.

Before John B can defend his friend, JJ puts a hand on his friends shoulder. John B looks to him in confusion but says nothing and waits for JJ to speak. “Let’s step outside.”

Gold was the color of the leaves

When I showed you around Centennial Park

Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

Rafe and JJ had never had a heart to heart. The only choice words they ever spoke to each other was when they were beating eachother up. Now, as they stood outside the ice cream parlour where JJ had previously worked, they seemed to be standing in a comfortable silence.

“What’s up man?” JJ asked, looking to the window where he saw John B ordering his and JJ’s ice cream.

“I want to let you know you’re a complete idiot.” Rafe swallows harshly and steps closer towards JJ. 

For a moment, JJ thinks he might punch him by the anger in his eyes and how his fists are clenched tightly together. But the moment passes and Rafe remains quiet until JJ speaks. “Why?”

“She’s completely in love with you and you’re still here, ordering fucking ice cream.” Rafe spits, unclenching and then clenching his fists.

JJ’s shoulders slump. He wondered how the hell Rafe knew but he didn’t want to dwell on that. “Rafe, it’s complicated.”

Rafe shakes his head, a little calmer now. “No, it’s not. I loved her so much and when I told her, you know what she said?” He paused and only when JJ shrugged, did Rafe continue. “She told me she was waiting for a guy to find himself. So, have you found yourself?”

JJ nodded. “Yeah, but it’s been too long. She probably told you that months ago. My windows closed. Besides, she’s at Yale.”

Rafe shook his head incredulously. “She told me that last week dude.”

JJ felt like he might faint right there at this news. He felt light headed and he held onto Rafe’s shoulder and he tried to find his balance. After all this time, it wasn’t too late. After all this time, she still loved him. He looked back up to Rafe with a smile on his face. He stood straight back up, knowing what he had to do next. 

“Rafe, if John B asks where I’ve gone, tell him sorry, but I have to go see about a girl.”

Time, wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies

And it’s cool

Baby, with me

Charlie had begun a running regimen when she started at Yale. They had a beautiful track on campus and before every class every morning, she would run for two hours, shower, and then go to whatever class she had that day. On days she had off, she would take her time and on Saturday mornings, when no one had classes, she took extra time. She would sprint for a couple moments, then jog and walk and start all over again. Since she started this exercise, she could see an improvement in her health and stress. Whenever her mind brought her to places she didn’t want to be, she would run. Running had begun to become her therapy, along with her actual therapy.

On that particular Saturday, she was running late; figuratively of course. She had slept through her 6am alarm and, by 7am, she was rushing out her dorm to get to the track. She had tried to always get there extra because after 8am, it got too crowded. But, as she rushed down the steps on her campus dorm and out into the crisp autumn air, she came face to face with a certain blonde boy.

When she finally recognized him, a gasp left her lips. He looked disheveled from his journey and while half of her wondered what he could possibly want from her, the other half was crying with joy because she knew.

JJ walked up one step of the stairs, the closest he’s been to her since all those months ago. “Charlie, I -”

“No speeches.” She cuts him off, wanting to know his answer but too impatient. “Just tell me if you know.” She can’t wait any longer. All of these months of waiting and praying and now he’s here. She forgives him. She forgave him months ago. But now, she needs to know if she’s wasting her time all over again.

“I know now.” JJ looks at her, breathless.

The smile on her face tells him everything he needs to know. She knows too.

And isn’t it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

~

taglist: @dolanfivsosxox @obxrush @belledutchess @sexualparkour @lueurglow @maries110911 @ebonyyyy-e @teamnick @tangledinsparkles @91912512 @shawnssongs @ssjiara @amarachoren @under-a-canyon-moon​ @blog-hannahnicole​ @xlittlemissydjx​

[ajokeformur-ray]

The Nature of the Beast // Joker x Reader // Implied NSFW.

For @rebs-doom: Joker rewards you for studying so hard: “I have a hard problem over here which desperately needs your attention" *grabs himself through his slacks* 

Summary: You’ve been locked away in your bedroom studying for most of the day. Joker has been absent for much of this time, doing whatever he does, but when he comes home, he craves your attention. Little do you know that it’s not for anything nefarious, but because he wants to take care of you.

TW; smoking (Joker and reader), lack of self care (studying for way too long wow), smut, swearing (my usual warnings lmao). 

Hidden from those with Safe Mode on. Contains NSFW. Reader is over 18. 

Arthur Fleck/Joker:  @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @mapreza1 @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx

Want to be added to the taglist? Please send an ask or a DM.

Word count: 994.

The words on the page in front of you were beginning to blur, the letters and words jumping into each other. You lit another cigarette without even thinking about what you were doing, took a long, heavy drag and as you exhaled, you rubbed at the ache that was beginning to form at the back of your head. This was hell on your mind. You had a long, hard week and the last thing you wanted to be doing was studying like there was no tomorrow, but oh well. Needs must.

You supposed it was a good thing that you had so much work to do. Joker had gone running off who knows where and you hadn’t heard hide nor hair of him for longer than you had been studying. Having to concentrate on the books, screens and papers before you at least kept you from obsessively worrying about him; though by no means did it stop you thinking about him. You doubted whether anything ever would force you to stop thinking about your enigmatic lover.

Smiling to yourself like a fool at the thought of your Prince’s green hair, his intense stare and the way he could reduce you to an aroused puddle with a single look, you somehow found it within you to pick your pen back up and to carry on, your cigarette gently burning down to the filter as you worked. You needed to get some more, soon. At this rate, you would go through Joker’s stash, too. He always allowed you to help yourself to his things as and when you felt the need to; “what is mine is yours” had been the promise he had given you at the time, but in return for his generosity and openness he usually asked for something carnal. Not that you minded, of course. You could never deny him anything.

You shifted in your seat, your back aching from the nape of your neck all the way down to the base of your spine. To live is to suffer, you thought, scribbling something down as best as you could. You weren’t entirely sure that you had properly understood the paragraph, having only read it once before attempting to re-write it in your own words, but it would suffice. You would probably end up referring back to the textbook when it came to writing your assignments, anyway. 

The steady pace of your studying continued as you lit another cigarette, swigging lukewarm coffee at a similar rate in between drags. This was the life. So engrossed were you in your work that you failed to hear the sound of the front door opening and closing with a quiet click, the sound of shoes being toed off and left where they had been discarded, the sound of a coat being hung up and then... you missed the sound of  your bedroom door creaking open, a familiar painted face peeking teasingly around the corner before the door was opened just enough for Joker to get his scrawny form passed it.

As your hand inched towards the last cigarette in the pack, Joker saw a chance and took it. He swooped it and stole the cigarette, effectively breaking your concentration.

“Twenty cigarettes in four hours... Goodness. You’re beating me at my own game, sweetheart.” Joker tutted, a smirk growing in the corner of his painted mouth. His words were usually quite different from his actions, and right now was no exception.

You stood up, groaning at the aches in your head, your back and your heart as your eyes met Joker’s own. Joker lit the cigarette he had stolen from you, lit it, took one long heavy drag and then, with a deft movement in his wrist, turned it around so that the filter faced you. He pushed it slowly into your mouth, a devious look on his face.

You lifted an eyebrow, took a drag and handed the cigarette back. The two of you had done far worse than sharing a cigarette together. “Come on then, Joker - do your worst.”

“I do love a feisty kitten.” Green eyes met yours, a quick hand stumped the cigarette out on your desk, and then he walked with you slowly until the backs of your ankles hit your bed. You went down, Joker following you, and his lips were on yours before your mind could figure out how you had lost control of the situation so quickly.

“I’ve got a bit of a hard,” Joker thrust his pelvis into yours, making you groan and wish you had decided to forego your underwear, “problem that needs your attention. Care to help me out?”

“Mm,” You ran a hand through his green hair, “Depends on what I get out of it.”

Joker made an amused noise. “Me.” He said the word like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he was all you ever needed, and when you blushed prettily under his careful but deliberate touch, he knew that you had just confirmed his thoughts, his suspicions. He could ask you to jump and you would ask him how high. He could tell you to kill someone and you would do it, just to see him smiling with approval at you. 

Joker’s lips crashed into yours now that he had you right where he wanted you. You could be moody when you had been studying for too long, and Joker had managed to orchestrate his arrival home just so that, as he came into your bedroom, you were beginning to get moody and, oh, the sex with you was so much better when you were all fired up and wanting to burn some excess energy. 

Hands worked quickly and clothes were practically torn off as Joker both worked off his frustrations from the day but also rewarded you for studying so diligently, so beautifully. You were going to rule Gotham together one day, he just knew it.

[talk-to-me-devil-again]

To Be of Use (Joker fanfic, super smutty)

Ok so this is the first fic I’ve written in over ten years (since the Dark Knight came out lol), and the first fic I’ve ever finished, after that one sorry attempt back in ‘08. It’s super smutty and perverted, turn back now, it has  Dom/sub, anal, warning this is for GROWN folk!!! Also posted on AO3 under the name TalkToMeDevilAgain

Summary:

Reader has been a mental patient at Arkham for quite some time, and is bored and sex-starved. They can’t help but take notice of a handsome and mysterious new patient. Smut smut smut

Notes:

I based a lot of this on my own countless visits to mental hospitals. They’re boring and there’s nothing to do, so it’s natural that sex preoccupies your thoughts. I got the idea for this fic when I was in the mental hospital yet again, just a couple of weeks ago. I know that security at an actual, non-fictional mental hospital wouldn’t be this lax and that a male patient with a history of violence wouldn’t be allowed to mingle in the dayroom (common area) with females, but just suspend disbelief for a bit lol. Also, it’s entirely plausible that Reader has no idea who Arthur/Joker is or what he’s done, they typically don’t allow you any access to the news in places like that. I hope you all enjoy, I wrote this from like 3-5 AM and I know there are mistakes and that I probably switch back and forth between past tense and present tense, but I’m proud of this hot, perverted little fic hahaha

Work Text:

It was hard to tell how many hours you’d been sitting in the dayroom. They didn’t keep a clock on the wall, because they knew some of the patients would obsess over it. In fact, the concept of “time” didn’t really seem to exist here. Days just stretched on and bled into each other. You had no idea what was going on in the outside world, as watching the news was forbidden - if the patients here couldn’t handle clocks, they definitely couldn’t handle the news. Apart from the boredom and monotony, you really didn’t mind. You felt better whenever you were locked up: you ate and showered regularly, and your sleep schedule was almost normal. You’d once joked with a friend who was constantly in and out of prison, that the two of you couldn’t resist the allure of “three hots and a cot” - three hot meals a day and a bed. Still, the boredom was a big problem. And the lack of any... stimulation. You desperately needed that. Not “cuddling” or “affection”, god no. As usual, your desires were ravenous and carnal. You’d never been the prettiest or the youngest or the skinniest, at least not in a long time, but you knew what men liked and how to give it to them. They were often able to sense that about you, too. Some of the more handsome and well-built med techs had to avert their gaze when you started eye-fucking them, but you knew they wanted it. Just not enough to lose their jobs over it.

Right now, it wasn’t the med techs who interested you. You weren’t looking at the man seated next to you, but you knew that he was looking at you, and that he didn’t care if you noticed. He’d shown up in the ward a few weeks ago, and the two of you hadn’t talked much. To tell the truth, you’d been nervous, and it wasn’t like you to be nervous around an attractive man, not since your insecure high school days that were long gone. There was something that was just different about this man: dark and handsome (though not exactly tall), thin but with defined muscles, high cheekbones, a faint scar above his lip, and unnervingly green eyes. Your standards had fallen since you’d been locked up in here, and you were so sex-starved that you found yourself fantasizing about employees and other patients who weren’t even your type. But oh god, he was your type, he was the very definition of your type. You’d always preferred the men who were a little less obvious - the tall burly men with the straight white teeth and symmetrical features, the kind who looked like high school quarterbacks, were always your last choice. The man sitting right next to you was the one who’d recently been occupying your thoughts, whenever you retreated to your room and gave yourself orgasm after orgasm to pass the time.

You knew he was looking at you, and it made you squirm in your seat, squeezing your legs together as the tension in your pelvis became unbearable. You knew you were soaking wet, and you wondered if he could smell it. The thought of that just turned you on even more. On the occasions you’d caught him looking at you, as you pretended like you were casually gazing around the room, the hunger in his eyes had startled and excited you. Today you were pretending to be engrossed in an old re-run of Sanford and Son on the tiny dayroom tv, but you knew that he knew better. What was the point in continuing the pretense? The sexual tension had reached its boiling point. You made up your mind, and without taking your eyes from the tiny TV bolted to the wall, you slowly reached out your hand and placed a single index finger on his knee. The restless bouncing of his leg stopped, and you gently ran your finger over the top of his thigh, from the knee almost to his groin, and back again. You were barely touching him, but you knew he had to be getting hard.

You kept this up for what was probably only a minute or so, but what seemed like hours. Despite the loud screeching of the TV, you could hear only your breath and his, both growing slower and deeper as your arousal increased. Suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, firm and powerful, and he leaned into you to whisper in your ear. “I’m going to make you regret that,” he breathed, and he nibbled your earlobe for a split second before returning to his former position as if nothing had happened. You audibly moaned, though no one noticed - no one here ever noticed anything, as the patients were too caught up in their own worlds and the med techs and nurses never stopped gossiping and joking around amongst themselves. It was like you were the only two people in the world. You finally met his gaze, and his green eyes seemed as if they’d turned black. He looked like he wanted to devour you, and it was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. You couldn’t handle it anymore - you abruptly got up from your seat so you could go to your room and release yourself, over and over. You didn’t have a choice in the matter, you knew that you’d explode like a dying star if you didn’t. When you reached the door, you looked back at him one last time: his arms were crossed, and he was smirking at you. You nearly ran to your room, desperate for relief.

You guessed it was around midnight, though you had no way of knowing. As usual you couldn’t sleep, and the sleeping pills they gave you each night didn’t help, as you’d long since developed a tolerance to them. Orgasm after orgasm had left you soaking wet, but despite your skill at pleasuring yourself, you still hadn’t found the relief you needed. You wanted the dark-haired man with the green eyes to make use of your wet and willing holes, to just use you as a fuck toy, rough and hard and punishingly. You knew most people didn’t think like this, that they would want to take things slower and more gently. They would want to kiss, and receive oral sex, and maybe even cuddle afterwards. Those things all seemed alien and deeply uncomfortable to you, but then again, if you were “most people” you wouldn’t be locked up in a place like this to begin with. There was nothing to do here, and nothing to think about, so you had no choice but to retreat into your own fantasy world. You couldn’t stop re-living that moment, over and over in your head like a video tape, when he’d whispered threateningly into your ear and given your earlobe a little bite. God, you hoped he intended to make good on his threat.

The door creaked open, and you jumped, pulling the sheets to cover your naked body. The door was always ajar, as the nurses had to do rounds every hour or so, so there was no point in shutting it. You really didn’t want a nurse to see you naked and horny, so you flipped over and faced the wall, unconvincingly trying to pretend you were asleep. The door pushed open all the way, and you knew it wasn’t a nurse, you just knew, though you didn’t dare face the approaching footsteps and spoil the moment. An elegant, masculine hand reached out and pulled the blankets down to your knees. The hand reached beneath your thighs, and found your wet pussy - those elegant fingers slid in, and pulled out with an audible pop. You gave up all pretense of being asleep, and looked up and locked eyes with the dark-haired man. You’d never seen someone look so hungry, and you imagined that his expression was mirrored on your face. Never breaking eye contact with you, he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked your wetness from the fingers that had just been inside you. You moaned just like earlier, but louder and more urgent.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, you were pulled out of bed and bent over the simple wooden dresser that was one of the only furnishings in your sterile room. Before you had time to process what was happening, the man with the green eyes had started spanking you, though describing it with a word as simple as “spanking” didn’t seem right. This wasn’t the playful and somewhat reluctant teasing of some twenty-something boytoy, with whom you’d begged and pleaded to add something spicy to the vanilla missionary sex that he preferred. This was rapid, brutal, and punishing, and you had to bite down on your fist to avoid yelling loud enough to attract the attention of an employee. It fulfilled a primal and instinctual need in you, that you couldn’t possibly find the words to explain. The punishment seemed to go on for hours, and you knew your ass was bright red by that point: claimed by him, marked by him. You knew you’d bear these marks for days, and the thought of it somehow made you even wetter than before.

Another rough shove, and you were off the dresser, down to your bare knees on the cold linoleum floor. He was still wearing the standard issue white scrubs that every other patient wore, and the thought of you being naked and exposed before him while he was still fully-clothed, kneeling beneath him as he stood looking down at you, made your pussy throb. You looked up at him as if he were a god, tears of pleasure and pain screaming from your eyes, and he spoke for the first time since he’d quietly entered your room. “I’m tired of you teasing me, you stupid little slut. And I’m tired of the way you look at the other men here. Do you think I don’t notice? I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for days, and when I’m finished you’ll know that you belong to me. Is that understood?” You nodded, and when that doesn’t seem to satisfy him, you managed to eke out a simple “Yes”. That earned you a slap on the face that almost made you see stars. “Yes what, whore?” You understood what he wanted. “Yes sir,” you replied. “Good. You’re learning,” he said, and laughed in a way that you’d never heard anyone laugh before.

Still looking down on you, naked and kneeling, he ran his hand through your hair, cupped your cheek in a way that was almost gentle, and pried your lips apart with his rough thumb. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, and you eagerly obliged as he reached for the waistband of his pants and pulled them down just low enough to expose his hard, impressive cock. With a rough thrust he was in your mouth, and you were in heaven. He tasted like precum and smelled like sex. You instantly went to work, utilizing your years of experience in getting men off. It had never seemed like a chore to you, and you couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t enjoy it. He put his hand on the back of your head, tangling it in your hair, as he slowly and almost gently started fucking your mouth. At one point he removed himself from your mouth, thumped his dick against your face a few times, and used the tip to spread precum around your mouth like messy lipstick, before re-entering you. You reached up a hand and cupped his balls, starting to massage them as your expert mouth took his cock in, over and over. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that, and while he was clearly struggling to maintain his composure, he let out an involuntary moan that deeply excited you.

You didn’t think he’d be able to hold on much longer like this, and he clearly seemed to agree, as you suddenly found yourself being pulled from the floor by your wrists and shoved up against the cool, sterile white wall. He used one hand to pin your wrists in place above your head with his considerable strength, while the other hand pinched your nipples and roughly squeezed and slapped at your tits. He stopped working on your tits and suddenly entered you, gliding through your wetness with ease, slow at first, then fucking you at a frenzied pace as your pussy stretched to accommodate him. While never ceasing the frantic pace of his thrusts, he leaned in as if to whisper something like he had earlier that day, then took your sensitive earlobe into his mouth and started working it with his teeth. By that point you weren’t even moaning, just mewling helplessly like a lost cat, caught up in pain and ecstasy. He pounded endlessly into your pelvis in a way that released the tension that had been building there for months, making you come completely undone as you orgasmed around his cock, again biting your fist so you wouldn’t scream and get both of you caught. He didn’t seem anywhere close to being finished, though. “You fucking belong to me,” he breathed into your ear. “I’m going to prove it to you.”

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, hadn’t he already proved it to you? For the first time you felt a sense of trepidation, that formed an intoxicating mixture with the blind lust that had already taken over your senses. He pulled out of you and gently but firmly guided you to your bed, laying you down face first with your ass hanging over the edge. You felt his tip gently nudge against the sensitive, erogenous bundle of nerves that surrounded your other hole, the one that most men seemed to be afraid of. You nearly screamed with anticipation: you’d done this before but it had been a while, though you often explored this area on your own time. The secret that most people didn’t realize was that being filled in that hole felt like pure, utter domination. That there was no better way to belong to someone, body and soul, than to give up this part of yourself to them. For what seemed like an eternity he rubbed the head of his cock between both holes, and you eventually realized that he was using your own natural lubricants to prepare you for him.

When the tip of his dick broached your barrier, he seemed to understand how important it was to take this slowly, letting you adjust to his size. After an interminable amount of time he began steadily pushing in and out, and the sensation was so pleasurable and intense that you buried your face in your mattress and writhed and screamed as your hands grasped at the sheets. He reached out and took one of your hands into his firm grip, never breaking his slow but relentless pace. He lowered his body onto yours and murmured, “God, you feel so fucking tight. I own you. I’ll always own you. I’ll never let you forget that.” You nodded and replied submissively, “Yes sir. I’m yours. I’m only yours. Thank you for teaching me who I belong to.” That seemed to excite him, and his thrusting grew faster, though he was obviously trying to control it. Your fingers snaked down to your clit as he continued to fuck you in the ass, and you started teasing at yourself, determined to come at the same time he did.

At this moment you felt complete bliss. The mysterious dark-haired man, whose name you still didn’t know, had claimed you as his. He’d marked your body and used all of your holes for his pleasure. You knew you’d both be locked up in here for a long time, and that security was pretty lax at night. The employees were underpaid and overworked, and even if he were caught sneaking into your room you knew he wouldn’t face any real consequences. There was no limit to the amount of times he could claim you like this. You were useful to him, and being used like this was your dream. A smile grew across your face, as his thrusting and your ministrations to your clit reached their climax. You let out a muffled yell into the mattress as you climax, and feel yourself be filled with that familiar hot liquid. He collapses on your body and the two of you pant in unison, his cock still inside of you. You both know he can’t stay much longer before getting caught and scolded, but you commit every detail of this moment to memory so that it will last forever. He gently kisses you on your cheek, and you’re so happy you could cry.

[thinkaboutmeff7au]

flash time 101

1995.

Knock knock. I put an old receipt in my book to mark it and get up. I’m hoping it’s just one of the neighbors asking for a cup of sugar. Wouldn’t that be great? Wouldn’t that be…

I open the door. It’s Gen, because of course it is.

“Angeal!” he says, too loud and too high pitched. He’s giddy, weaving on his feet, and he gives me a huge hug that wanes in strength instantly. “Dude, I can’t believe…you’re still awake? I thought you’d be sleeping!”

I yank him out of the hallway. I want to leave him out there, but something tells me he’ll start crying if I do. Just a hunch. He’s very stoned. “It’s 8:30,” I tell him.

“Huh? I thought…wasn’t it like, ten or something?”

“No.”

He staggers away from me to balance himself as I shut the door. Then, he starts bouncing on his toes and shaking his hands as if they’re covered in water. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” I ask, mesmerized.

He whips his head over to me, beams, and then starts giggling uncontrollably. He has to hold his face in his hands, covering it. It takes a second, but when he finally comes out of it, his eyes are wild. “Hah!” he barks. “I got a new strain the other day. I’m finally trying…trying it out. Holy shit! I feel AWESOME.”

He bounces up and down again before hurling himself on my couch, staring up at the ceiling. He pauses, blinking rapidly. Dizzy, I assume. Suddenly, I wish I were tucked into bed, safely asleep. But, it’s probably better that I’m up and can take care of him if his mood goes the other way. Despite how exhausting this is, and how much my SOLDIER tutor instinct is bubbling up…this is kind of funny to watch.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” he mutters. “I can like…see things.”

There is one question that begs to be answered. “Surprised you aren’t at Seph’s,” I remark.

“Huh? Oh shit. Yeah, he’s working. Working.” Gen traces invisible marks above his head with a limp hand. “Besides, I wanted…wanted to try…try-ha ha hiiiiiiigh...”

There he goes. He starts laughing again and rolls on the couch so he’s on his stomach, kicking his feet and laughing. “Fuck! Aaaaah…”

“You don’t think you had too much?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“Swear to God! I’m just…aaah, I had one of those cafeteria chicken ceasar salads for dinner…so like, like, it’s hitting me different, different…mmmm.” His words sound like they don’t have any spaces between them. When he sits up, his hair is a wild mess, and he takes a long time to snake his hand through his hair. “Do you have any fuckin’…anything? Food? Salt? Crunch runch runch…”

He gnashes his teeth, then covers his face again. “Oh fuck, I am totally insane.”

I’m entranced by this…whatever this is. “Yeah, you are.”

His head dips while he’s still holding it, and so I go to the kitchen. No, I don’t keep stoner snacks for these rare occasions he comes to bother me, so he’s just getting a box of saltines. Okay, I get out the peanut butter too. That should satiate him. He starts yelling to me from the other room. “No, no like, so I wanted to get…ha ha fucking stupid trying this shit, I wanted to know the worst it could get. I wanted to! Okay! So like…the real reason is…is…is…”

I place the snacks on the table in front of him. I’m tempted to get the mat from the front door and put it in front of him so he doesn’t make a mess. Too many times I had to clean up after him at my mom’s place.

Genesis finds his sentence again, and peaks at me through his fingers. “I want Seph to try it.”

“Okay,” I say. More than ever, I feel like a rock, and he’s a roaring ocean, crashing with angry waves. Slowly, slowly wearing me down.

“Like! This shit makes me so chatty…words…saying…feels good,” he continues, dragging his hands down his face. He realizes I’ve brought him food. “Fuck, thanks.”

“Yup.”

“Okay, okay, so yeah, Seph’s all like…he’s got all the right ways to be high, but I want him to talk more. I want to know him more. Okay. Like…” He picks up the peanut butter and holds it as if he’s Hamlet holding a skull on stage. “More than. Carnally.”

I bite my lip. “Sure.”

“Seph doesn’t know how to have friends, all right?” he says. He peels off the lid of the peanut butter with so much force that it flies across the room and hits the TV. I should turn it onto something just so he can zone out to it later and maybe I can get some sleep. “Fuck, he even thinks all the queer shit we do is like…what friends do. Isn’t that so fucking stupid?”

I raise an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

“Well, he hasn’t…hasn’t said shit about it. Like, he doesn’t talk about anything. Let alone if we’re not stoned.”

“Right.”

I had given him a spoon, and it turns out to be the right choice as he attacks the peanut butter directly. He can’t talk while he’s eating it, but he does have some kind of experience, falling back against the couch with the jar against his chest. Good for him.

Although, I seriously wonder if what Gen said is right even in the slightest. I know they have sex. Believe me, I know. But I’ve also been with Sephiroth alone more than Gen realizes, and I think the man knows what a friendship is. There was a period of time when Gen was irritated with him for making first, and he came to me for advice. He thanked me for it, and I told him “that’s what friends are for.” His reply was something like “so they say”, but I saw the realization before it, and the small smile afterwards.

So, I think Gen’s claim is off. He just wants to believe he’s getting away with something.

“This shit’s so good,” he croaks. “I’m so thirsty though…”

Right. I go back and rummage through my cupboards for a certain mug—yeah, the company issued one with a handle and a lid. I fill it up and gingerly set it on the table in front of him. He tosses the peanut butter and spoon back on the table in place for the water, and I swear to God he downs the whole thing. His throat clicks and he makes a loud “aaaah��� sound after he drinks it. He sits there for a second, and I decide to go back to my book. I’m sure he’ll entertain himself somehow.

I’m about a couple pages in when I hear him stir. “Oh, your plants, Ange, your plants…”

He gets up and walks to the windowsill, then drops to his knees and starts petting the leaves of my marigolds. They aren’t quite in bloom yet, but I’m hoping once they do, it’ll be some nice, cheery color. The rest are mostly herbs: oregano and thyme. Gen giggles. “They’re growing up so nice…”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah? I think they need more sun.”

“They’ll get it.” He’s cooing as if he’s talking to a newborn. “The sun rises on this side, right? So like…they get…light. Light in the morning. You guys are flowers, aren’t you…”

I keep an ear on him as I read.

“Sometimes…I wish I were a plant. I could just stay still…”

He pauses for too long.

“…forever. Just like…my feet would be the roots…and like…whoa…”

He weaves on his knees. “Soft leaves, soft...” He starts to sing, somewhat gently. “In the breeze of a dream to have greens such as this, it’s so wonderful…” It dissolves into humming.

I think the last time I saw him when he was this delirious, he wasn’t in a good place. He kept rambling on about how we’re all forsaken, that he’s just waiting to rot away, and that he didn’t know what good it was to keep himself alive. I thought for sure he was going to break a window. I wish I knew what kind of bullshit he took that time, so I could tell him not to do it again. Although, he probably knows it and keeps it off his list. Even when he gets fatalistic, he’s not stupid.

“Baby, baby plants, baby leaves…” he hums.

I prefer him when he’s silly like this, even when it gets on my nerves. It’s much better than the alternative.

He keeps babbling to the plants under his breath. I turn the TV on low and I read for another hour. It’s almost peaceful, this. It’s so nice when he gets stoned and isn’t all over me.

Eventually, drowsiness hits me. I yawn and mark my book.

“Listen, bud, I’m gonna have to kick you out,” I sigh. “Please don’t call in tomorrow.”

“Whaaaat?” he whines. I never knew his voice could go so high. “But Angeaaaaaal, I was just telling them how the hero is a metaphor for the journey that he takes…”

He gestures to the plants, who have been a patient audience to his ramblings.

“Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense,” I say. “I’m not gonna carry you back downstairs, so find your way home or sleep on the couch.”

He crawls over to me and hugs my legs. “C’mon, c’mon…I can fit in that shitty twin…lemme stay…”

Uh-huh, here we go. I drag him off the ground by his shirt collar and he still clings to me, inhaling deep in my chest. “Mm, you smell soooo good, baby,” he murmurs. “I’m…lemme…lemme heh hee hee…I’m gonna take you home tonight…”

“Sure,” I mutter.

It takes some effort, but I manage to pry him off my chest and ease him down on the couch. He hugs himself and rolls on it, giggling and sighing. Dear God. The worst part is I can guess what he’s thinking about, given how tightly he hugged me. Sephiroth may be his new obsession, but I was his first one. Some might say it’s weird to know that your best friend is also madly in love with you, emotionally and…”carnally”, as he put it earlier. Christ, I hope he doesn’t try to jerk off on my couch.

No, he hums and rubs against the cushions like a cat, eyes closed. I should be able to sneak off.

And I do.

…the next morning, I wake up to him curled up at the edge of my bed in a tight ball, snoring softly…

(A.H.)

[ladynuwanda]

Heart of Darkness (Michael LangdonXFemale Reader) - Chapter 4: Sealed with a Kiss

Waking up at a place you don’t know where it is having no idea how the hell you’ve gotten there. What fun.

 All I could feel was a blinding pain at the back of my head, but when I tried to bring a hand to it I saw that I couldn’t move it. In fact I couldn’t move at all. Anything except my eyes, and I was looking around madly, as best as I could, panic growing in my chest. I was lying on a hard surface, like a table, in a dim-lit room, I could see there was someone else in the room from the corner of my eyes.

It was a man, not much more than a boy, walking busily around the room, lighting candles and reciting words in what sounded like Latin. When he turned around I lost my breath for a moment and I felt like my heart had skipped a beat. He had the most beautiful face I had even seen in my life, framed by silky golden curls. It’s not an exaggeration when I say he looked like an angel. His face looked positively radiant, specially in contrast with his black clothes, but his expression was so utterly miserable, it was sort of heartbreaking.

 He stopped by the table, speaking louder now (definitely Latin, and although I couldn’t quite make out the actual meaning of the words, it already sounded ominous enough) and I saw a flash of silver when he raised his red gloved hands. A knife. Oh, shit! I would have screamed if I could make a sound. The fact that he didn’t look very happy either was no consolation. He looked at me like he was about to apologise and I could tell something made him stop on his tracks. “You’re not a virgin”, he furrowed his brows at me.

 Panic gave place to confusion, and I felt a crease appearing between my eyebrows as well. He rolled his eyes muttering “oh, fuck it” under his breath. With a careless red wave of one hand whatever was holding me still was gone, and I could move again. I sat up on the table as he walked to an armchair and sat down looking exhausted. I knew I was definitely not off whatever hook he had me on, but I couldn’t avoid the warm feeling of relief that took me when he dropped the knife to the floor by the armchair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “You were supposed to be a virgin. I can’t believe Miss Mead got it wrong... she was never wrong, you see? Not my Miss Mead!”, I was thinking that it was funny the way he said “my Miss Mead”, like everyone was supposed to have a Miss Mead, but that made me think of the lady I met at work. She had pleasant manners and sparkly green eyes, and I remember thinking I wanted to look half as cool when I got to her age, with the faux mohawk and black lipstick... the pain on the back of my head stung again. Whoever this Miss Mead was, she probably knocked me unconscious and dragged me to this place.

 He was still muttering to himself and I had no idea what I was supposed to do or say when his blue gaze fell on me again “... I mean, you ARE the girl from the library, right?”. I nodded stupidly. “And you’re not a virgin... now that’s a surprise!”, I wasn’t sure if I should be more offended that he simply assumed I was a virgin because I worked in the library, or by his disgusted tone when he said I wasn’t. I couldn’t tell exactly what kind of shaming he was giving me, but I knew there was some. And to my surprise I heard myself saying “I’m sorry” like a complete idiot.

 “Well, you should be! You were supposed to serve a greater purpose, I was supposed to consume the heart of a virgin tonight... but now I can’t, can I? Miss Mead is already back at Kineros to have her memory erased and it’s too late for me to find and capture someone else before the eclipse is over.”, very little of what he said made any sense to me, and he seemed to be talking more to himself anyway, but I think I got the meaning of the part about consuming a heart. Consuming. What a civilised way to say he was gonna cut my chest open with that silver knife of his, rip my bloody heart out and eat it raw before my corpse was even cold. “All because you humans have to succumb to lust all the time... was it lust, or are you gonna tell me it was love?”, his icy blue eyes were on me again.

 What was I going to say? Should I tell him it was love? Would that somehow make me less tainted, and therefore more eligible for heart-eating? Why should I even be honest to this psycho? Was I supposed to open my metaphorical heart to this very literal heart-eater? What for? But then I noticed something weird in what he’d just said “you humans”? This whole conversation somehow managed to get crazier by the minute...

 He raised himself from the armchair and was walking towards me now. “It was love. You loved him dearly. He was... your best friend. You trusted him with your life, but he betrayed that trust. He broke your heart”, he placed both hands, in those unsettling red gloves, on  the table in front of me, by my feet, and looked deep into my eyes, “I can see it like a physical trait, you carry it around like a scar.”. I felt tears stinging my eyes and looked away. How did he know? Who was this guy? WHAT was he? “Was it worth it? Giving yourself to this man only to have your heart crushed afterwards... human-beings are pathetic with this obsession with carnal pleasure. And the way you think it has something to do with love... It’s pitiful, really.”

 “Why do you talk about human beings like that... like you’re not one?”, what was I thinking? Why was I asking that kind of question to this lunatic? Was I so in shock that I was no longer thinking properly? He merely chuckled. “Because I’m not.”, he turned his face the other way and pulled his hair to the side, to show me this painful looking mark behind his ear, a small 666 in an intricate design that seemed to have been iron branded there. He looked at me again and his face was no longer his face, it was a white mask of evil that made my blood freeze in my veins. Just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone and he was giving me the most angelic smile. “My name is Michael Langdon, and I am the Antichrist.” I can’t explain why, and it wasn’t just the satisfied tone in which he had said those words, but I knew this wasn’t a trick. He was the real deal, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind. I knew it in my very soul, and fear took hold of my heart like it was grabbed by a cold hand.

 He walked around the table and sat casually next to me, it looked almost like we were school kids, chatting in between classes. It‘s amazing that, with everything that was going on, there was still room left in my brain to think about how nice he smelled. “I know you wanna ask me another question... come on, don’t be shy”, he smirked, he seemed to be having fun. Like a particularly wicked cat playing with a mouse before killing it off. “It’s so annoying how people never seem to be able to be honest with me... they always get all ‘pleases’ and ‘I’m sorrys’, they never answer my questions with the truth, it’s always what they think I wanna hear, you have no idea how frustrating it is!”, I talked before I could stop myself “Well can you blame them?”, I made a sound that was very much like laughter and pressed my lips together to keep myself from talking any longer.

 Shock. Definitely shock. What else but shock could explain the way I was talking to the actual Devil? But he didn’t seem angry, he was more... amused. “What do you mean?”, the smirk was almost a grin now. Well, fuck it. I’m probably not gonna leave this place alive, anyway, why should I worry about what I say to him? “Well...” I continued like I didn’t care at all about my own life “... you’ve got that whole situation going on”, I made a vague hand gesture encompassing his attire, “don’t get me wrong! It’s fantastic! But maybe just a little... intense. You can’t dress like that and then act surprised when people are a little intimidated by you!”

 He was laughing. The Antichrist was laughing at something I had said. Not laughing at me, but sorta with me. Like he was enjoying my company. Like this was... fun? The same man who was casually talking about eating my heart out a few moments before. “I guess you’re right” he was giving me the brightest of smiles now “maybe I am intimidating, as you say. I’ll tell you what: I promise not to hurt you during this entire conversation, if you promise me you’re gonna be a hundred percent honest, deal?”

 In case you haven’t noticed, he never promised he wasn’t going to kill me eventually. And then there was the fact that the actual Devil was offering me an actual deal. I realised I had very little to lose at this point so I shook the hand he offered me. “Good! Now, I’m hungry... are you hungry? We should find something to eat, since you’ve ruined my original dinner plans...” he jumped off the table laughing at his own dark joke “... I can’t cook, tho, can you cook? Nevermind! We’ll have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and call it the night. Do you like peanut butter and jelly?”, “Yes” my reply was barely more than a whisper, and I still couldn’t make myself move as he was already leaving the room. He stopped by the door and looked at me “Come on! I think my Miss Mead left me some chocolate milk in the fridge... it should be a little treat!”, he flashed me another bright smile. Still feeling slightly lightheaded, I followed the Antichrist into his Miss Mead’s kitchen.

 He threw his leather coat on the back of a chair and discarded the red gloves on the counter, he was untying his ascot (an ascot! now that’s something you don’t see everyday...) and unbuttoning the collar of his dress shirt. He was still insanely overdressed for a peanut butter and jelly dinner, but he seemed far more relaxed. I, on the other hand, felt absurdly underdressed in a sleeveless little thing, that looked more like a white nightgown, and absolutely nothing underneath. The sheer fabric made me feel exposed, so I braced myself, rubbing my own arms with my hands. As if the feeling of warmth from the gesture could make me feel less vulnerable. “Are you cold? Here...”, he took off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders, his hands were surprisingly gentle and warm, but the unexpected touch made me shiver, anyway. He didn’t seem to notice and proceeded to folding up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing lightly tanned forearms, with veins that looked like they had been carved in marble.

 He placed a tall glass of chocolate milk on the table and pulled me a chair, turning around to busy himself with cupboard doors, plates and sandwich ingredients. I sat down, looking at the glass and thinking about how surreal this was. I wanted to be afraid of him. I knew I should run away from that kitchen. But he was being so... nice! He was humming tunelessly to himself while preparing sandwiches, it felt like he was genuinely happy to have company for dinner. But I wasn’t imagining things, was I? He had been about to carve my heart out a few moments before, hadn’t he? So how could I feel so warm and cosy in his company now? Is that what Stockholm Syndrome feels like?

 A few minutes later he put a plate in front of me, with a PB&J sandwich in it. I had to smile a little to myself when I noticed that the crust had been neatly cut out. He sat on the chair across from me and took his own sandwich in his large hands. As I saw him take a ravenous bite I couldn’t help thinking about what had been originally on the menu tonight. It was only after he licked strawberry jam off one of his long fingers that he looked at me again. It would be a big fat lie if said I could taste the sandwich at all, but I had been chewing my first bite for a long time before I remembered how swallowing worked.

 “What did you need a virgin’s heart for?”, I asked before I could stop myself. “It was a ritual”, he swallowed the bite he had been chewing, “to bring me closer to my father, to give me power so I could fulfil his purpose. I guess I’m gonna have to make do without it now” he shrugged. “My turn: how come you’re not a virgin, Library-Girl? We’ve been watching you... you’re not seeing anyone, you’ve got very little social life to begin with. It was an honest mistake, if you think about it...”

 Like hell it was! So I was almost murdered over a stereotype? The spinster librarian, who lives alone with a thousand cats... Ridiculous! Except that I really was single. And I did have a cat. Oh, no! My cat! I hoped my next door neighbour would notice I had not come home, and use the spare-key to get into my apartment and feed my Vanilla, when she was feeding her Luna... Do you think Langdon would let me use the phone for a second?

 “You said so yourself, I was in love. And he broke my heart.”, that’s definitely the least comfortable sex-talk in the entire history of conversations. “Ah, but he wasn’t the only one, was he? You also did it with guys you were not in love with... why?”, it wasn’t a rhetorical question, he seemed honestly puzzled. And he was right. Even after having my heart shattered to pieces, I could still take other men into my bed. I hadn’t trusted anyone again, but that doesn’t mean I had chosen celibacy. I had to think for a while before replying this time “Because... it feels good.”, it was my turn to shrug now. He slapped the table, startling me, “I knew it! See, that’s the problem with mankind, that’s why you’re all doomed: you only care about immediate gratification. Sex, drugs... whatever! You’re just walking around the Earth looking for your next high, destroying everything on the way...”

 “You’re telling me that you don’t have this problem?” to be honest, I was beginning to feel a little tired of his air of superiority. “I’m not blinded by instincts, like you people. My actions are not motivated by animalistic impulse, I have a purpose.” He took a deep breath and drank from his glass of chocolate milk “But that’s not the question’s that’s been pulsing in your brain for the last few minutes, is it? Go ahead, ask it.”

 “So you are... a virgin?”

“Naturally.”

“You’ve got a milk moustache.”

 What?! I needed to gain some time! “Naturally” was so not the answer I was expecting! He wiped his lips with a napkin and met my eyes again “Why is that such a foreign concept to you?”

 “Because there’s a crazy little thing called desire... it’s a very powerful force!”

“Distractions.”

“Welcome distractions!”

“Not really.”

“You must have been a very weird teenager...”

“I was never a teenager.”

 The look of confusion on my face probably spoke volumes, for he kept talking “I was born on the 14th of December, 2011. One night, a couple of years ago, I went to bed as a child, and the next morning I woke up... like this.” Flawless, would have been the natural complement to this statement, but for once I managed to stay quiet, I just kept looking at him wide-eyed with my mouth slightly open. “You look cold... are you done eating? Let’s take this conversation to the living room, there’s a nice fireplace there.”, without waiting for a reply, he got up and kept talking as he left the kitchen “I had a reason to grow up so fast, you see, there were things that needed to be done...”, I followed him because he seemed really pleased to have an audience to whom he could talk about his life goals, but also because I didn’t want to be left alone in the kitchen with that strange dark altar behind the table.

 He sat on the rug in front of the fireplace and took off his weird looking goat shoes “you, humans, let yourselves be distracted by what you believe is a higher purpose... women tell themselves they’re looking for love, men make themselves believe they want power, but in the end you all want one thing: immediate gratification. Usually through carnal pleasure. I cannot let myself be distracted by that...” I sat down on the rug as far from him as I could, still wrapping myself on his jacket “But weren’t you ever curious?”, I knew I was!

 “I’m not curious, I’m on a mission!”

“But it’s not just that! Sure, it is pleasant... but it’s also about connection.”

“Connection? With people? Please... what part of that should I find enticing?”

“I’m serious! It’s not just about having pleasure, it’s about sharing it with someone! Having each other at the most vulnerable and the most powerful, at the same time... we all crave that feeling with every fibre of our beings! Don’t you?”

 He looked at me and I could see blue flames dancing in his eyes, there was nothing of the ice that had been there before. He was all fire, and I felt my own cheeks burning as well. I was panting, and I didn’t know why. I couldn’t hold his gaze much longer, I lowered my eyes to his exposed collarbones. That was worse. Far worse. I felt my entire body burn, now. I bit my lower lip and heard a low chuckle. “If that’s such a magical, intense pleasure... why do people get so mad about rape?”, there was a bitterness to his voice, like this was a very personal subject to him. Clearly he wasn’t speaking from first-hand experience, or he wouldn’t need to ask this question, but he was clearly talking about someone who was close to him. “Because rape isn’t sex, it’s violence. If I hit you on the face with a shovel, you wouldn’t exactly call it gardening, would you?”, it was his turn to bite his lower lip “Fair enough.”, he nodded.

 After a heartbeat he lifted his eyes to me again, they were glowing warm like molten silver, incredibly sweet. His cheeks were flushed, as imagine mine were too, his rosy lips still wet in the firelight, the silvery blue eyes resting on mine for what seemed forever as he took a deep breath. “Would you show me?”, his voice much lower than it had been the entire evening. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close, and covered his lips  with mine.

 He responded with an enthusiasm I could not have anticipated, pulling me impossibly close and kissing me back with a thirst that felt entirely new. His honey lips on mine while his entire body felt made of flames, and I was happy to be consumed by his flames. The moment his delicate tongue found mine, I felt a deep moan vibrating from de back of his throat. I was already aching for him. I straddled his hips, trying to find contact, grinding down for friction. I wanted to feel him with my entire body. I felt like I would never be truly satisfied unless every molecule in my body was touching every molecule in his.

 My fingers were working the buttons of his waistcoat and dress-shirt, removing his leather belt, with feverish desire. His lips and tongue caressing my neck so lightly I almost cried. His upper body seemed carved in marble, perfectly smooth and slightly tanned... so warm to the touch, so inviting. He held me in a sweet embrace for a moment, while we both tried to steady our breathing. His large hands firmly on my back, my fingers running down his while I kissed his shoulder. We remained there for a moment, just breathing together, enjoying each other’s warmth and closeness.

 His kisses started on my neck, moved to my jawline making me grind down on him again, gasping slightly. His hands moved from my back, his touch ghosting over my breasts. He pulled back a little to look me in the eyes, asking for permission. I took his trembling hands on mine and kissed his fingertips lovingly, slowly. Then I placed them on my breasts. He inhaled shakily and closed his eyes, I moved my hips a little and watched, not without a little satisfaction, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as he moaned softly, his lips slightly parted.

 He buried his face on my chest, kissing the tops of my breasts that weren’t covered by the white nightgown, his hands gently kneading me where the skin was not exposed. His thumbs found my nipples through the thin fabric, touching them in circular motions. I steadied the pace of my hips, my whole body shaking, I felt myself clench around nothing, craving to feel him inside me.

 He laid me down on the rug, and removed his trousers and underwear before lying next to me. Holding his head with one hand, supported on his elbow, he ran his fingers up my dress, his fingertips barely touching the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his gaze never leaving mine. The molten silver in his eyes seemed to come to a boil when he found the wetness between my legs. He slipped one finger inside me and I threw my head back, eyes closed, biting my lip to keep myself from whining. He pulled the finger out and slid it back in, with a another finger this time. He bent both fingers a little, reaching that sweet spot inside me and I arched my back, a loud moan escaped my mouth.

 He kissed my shoulder that was nearest him, while he pleasured me with his fingers. “Can I...” his voice was slightly raspy, so he cleared his throat “May I... taste you?”, I nodded looking in his eyes. I don’t think I could speak to save my life at that moment. Without looking away he pulled his fingers from inside me and took them to his own mouth, sucking them clean. His eyes still intently on mine he leaned over and kissed me slow and deep. I could taste myself on his tongue, and that only made me want him more.

 He moved on top of me, his legs between mine, his hands pulling the white dress up above my head. At that moment I felt something I had never felt before. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Lying under his body, no fabric between us, just skin on skin. His eyes on mine. It just felt right, somehow. Like this was the only reason I was put on this world: to feel him, to look at him. But I needed more. I reached for him with one hand and slowly guided him inside me. It was only when he filled me up that I felt truly complete.

 His eyes were closed, his exhaling almost a sob. He lost himself to the sensation. I was trying to get used to his size, it was more than I had ever felt, he was stretching me out in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant. He pulled out a little and pushed himself in again, whimpering lightly. He looked so young, so helpless, without thinking I placed my hand on his cheek and he opened his eyes looking almost surprised to find me there, his face lit up with a smile when his eyes found mine and he kissed me, moving his hips away, never leaving me entirely, before sliding back in harshly, making us both break the kiss gasping.

 “I’m sorry... did I hurt you?”, his hand on my hair, his eyes on mine again. “Quite the opposite!”, I giggled and he did the same, relaxing a little. “You don’t need to hold back, Michael. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

 Now, why would I say something stupid like that? No matter how big a girl I was, this man was still a little more than human. I’m pretty sure he could tear me apart if he wanted to. But now my words made him relaxed enough to pound into me without mercy. He would at times pull himself entirely out and slam back in with a loud groan, his forehead resting on mine, tears stinging my eyes. He was going so deep, so hard, I knew I was gonna be sore in the morning, but it really didn’t matter then. Pleasure and pain. It’s amazing how often those two can go side by side.

 At other times he would take himself out and slide back in agonisingly slow. As much as I craved to have him filling me up again, his moaning during those times was music to my ears. And when I felt him back inside me to the brim, I could cry in ecstasy, my fingernails on the smooth skin pf his back. His face showed nothing but wonder when he would look at me while burying himself deeper between my legs. Sometimes he would just close his eyes in abandon, and I felt tears leaving my eyes. I had never seen anything so beautiful.

 His thrusts grew sloppier, he was losing himself to the feeling again. Panting heavily against my face, whimpering bellow his breath. I dug my fingernails on his back when my orgasm washed over me, making me clench around him, milking him for his. Throwing his head back, he came undone, throbbing inside me. Tears spilling from his closed eyes, a soft moan escaping his parted lips. He looked so much like an innocent boy as he looked like a mighty god. As the wave of pleasure washed away, he touched my forehead with his again. Both of our sweaty bodies shaking, while we did our best to breath normally again.

 “Thank you.”, his voice was very low, almost shy. And I giggled, surprised, at his unusual post-coital remark, “Sure, any time!”. “What? People don’t usually say that?”, he was chuckling a little himself as he looked at me. “They really don’t!”, we were both laughing now. He brushed his nose on mine “But I really do... thank you, I mean.” he looked very serious now, and I kissed him as tenderly as I knew how. Trying to tell him with my lips and my tongue what I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud: that I was thankful, too. It had been an honour and a privilege... and a pleasure. So much pleasure, it didn’t seem to belong in this world.

 He fell asleep with his head on my chest. I ended up dozing off myself, while running my fingers through his hair. Just savouring the perfectly blissful moment, the weight of his body, the scent of his hair, the peaceful sound of his breathing lulling me to sleep.

 I woke up on the sofa, apparently someone had carefully placed my sleeping body there and covered me up with a blanket. This someone was sitting on the rug now, wearing nothing but his boxers and black dress-shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up. He had all his attention focused on the binders before him, that he was leafing through by the firelight. The white dress I had bieen wearing was very tidily folded over the cushion by my head. I grabbed it and put it on, standing up.

 He looked up and gave me one of the bright smiles that I was beginning to grow fond of. (Who am I kidding? By now my heart was already doing somersaults whenever he would so much as glance in my general direction...) “I didn’t mean to wake you up... you were sleeping so peacefully!”, he held out a hand, inviting me join him by the fire. “How long was I out?”, again. I was beginning to wonder if I was keeping track of time AT ALL, at this point. “Less then an hour, don’t worry...”, cupping my face in one hand he kissed me slow and tenderly. He ended the kiss in a grin of contentment, touching my forehead with his and gently brushing his thumb on my cheek.

 “What are these?”, I pointed at the binders with my chin. “Cooperative papers, plans for the safety bunkers, boring but necessary stuff... I was trying to find a way to place you in one of the Outposts”, as usual most of what he was saying made no sense to me, and also as usual it probably showed on my face. He took a deep breath, and lowered his eyes, he seemed to be making an effort to speak now “Listen, you don’t need to panic, I’ve got it all figured out, I had a meeting last week, with some people... big... important people... you may call them World Leaders”, he did quotation marks with his fingers at these two words, “we’re working on building strategically placed Outposts, to protect those who can make an intellectual or cultural, or even biological, contribution to the world we’ll be creating.”

 “I’m sorry?”

“I told you I was on a mission... humanity is doomed, there’s going to be... an incident. Involving nuclear bombs. A few months from now. After the Nuclear Winter, we’ll have a chance to start over, make everything new, from scratch. Make it... better.”

 I got up on reflex, getting away from him in horror. How could he be so calm when he was talking about the death of billions of people? And then I remembered: he was the Antichrist after all. What was I thinking? That he was just the sweet boy I made love with? How could I forget this not so small detail about him? “You don’t need to be scared... it’s alright” he was getting himself up too “Trust me. I can keep you safe.”

 “I don’t wanna be safe! This is insane... you can’t be serious!”, I felt more naked now then I did when he took my dress off. “I will rebuild the world in my father’s image, it will be a better world!”, he took my hand “And you’ll be there to see it! No more lies, no more hypocrisy... imagine that! The end of treason and ignorance,  only the truth and knowledge will be allowed to exist in this new world. But we can’t achieve that with humanity as it is...”

 I pulled my hand from his grasp, but I couldn’t speak. I just stood there shaking my head in disbelief, looking at him through the tears in my eyes. He grabbed one of the binders that were resting on the rug “I found the perfect spot for you actually, the newly-elected president of a South-American country is pure scum! A very unpleasant little man... just the sound of his voice is enough to set my teeth on edge! I never wanted him taking someone’s place in the Outposts, anyway...”

 “Stop it, Michael! Stop this nonsense! I don’t wanna take anybody’s place in the Outposts... scum, or not!”

“You don’t know what you’re saying...”

“I do! I don’t wanna be some privileged asshole safely hidden in a bunker somewhere while the rest of the world bursts in flames!”

 “You won’t be thinking that when you feel your flesh burning from your bones and you’re reduced to nothing but ashes!”, he nearly shouted the words at me, and I was downright terrified. In that moment I realised that I had never seen him angry, and the idea of it was scarier than the Armageddon itself. He took a few deep breaths, I saw he was trying to calm himself down. He took me in his arms, one hand on my waist the other on my hair, his forehead on mine again “please, please... I don’t wanna lose you... you gave me something I never knew was even possible... please let me save you... stay with me...”, I could tell by his voice that he was on the verge of tears himself.

 “Michael, listen to me. I don’t care about surviving if everyone else is going to die. When the world is consumed in flames, I want to be with my family. Surrounded by the people I love the most. With music, laughter and good food. I want to be in my Grandma’s backyard. Eating one more of the delicious meals prepared by my aunt. While my brother plays our favourite songs on the guitar. I wanna be holding my mother’s hand. My little niece sitting on my knee, telling me a funny story. THAT’s how I’d want to go. That’s the kind of person I am!”

 He looked at me through teary eyes “Is that your final word?”, I put my hand on his face and kissed his lips very softly “Yes.”, silent tears were streaming down his cheeks now “You don’t need to save me. The privilege of dying happy is all the salvation I need... Just give me a heads up, if you can. So I can go back home to my family in time, will you?”. He swallowed hard, and his expression became even harder. His eyes went cold all at once, with that familiar icy glint, and the remaining tears running down his cheeks looked completely out of place on a face devoid of emotion. “I will not let you down”, his voice hard and cold as steel. With both hands, surprisingly warm and gentle, on my shoulders he kissed me very softly between the eyebrows.

 After that I remember being back at the library. With no idea how I had gotten there. In fact I had no idea I had ever left. I worked there for the next months as if that night had never happened. Like I had never been kidnapped by someone’s Miss Mead, or met the boy-Devil with the face of an angel. I didn’t even remember I had loved that boy for eternity in one night. And I definitely had no clue of the nuclear holocaust to come. In fact, it was just another day’s work at the library when the Cooperative officers arrived, less than an year later, to take me to the Outpost.

 To bring me here.

 It was bad enough living in Outpost 3 all this time, with all their rules and the fear, knowing everyone I had ever loved, everyone I knew, had died a most horrible death. But knowing that I was standing face to face with the man responsible for ending the world was a horror beyond comprehension. And we had been so... intimate. Our encounters had not been numerous, neither had they lasted for more than one night at a time. But those had probably been the most intense nights of my life. I knew I loved that man. Damn my soul, I loved him with everything I was. But I also hated him. For everything he’d done I hated him. For destroying my world and killing everyone I knew... TWICE.

 I heard sounds from downstairs, one of the heavy isolation doors opening and closing again. Someone was inside the outpost. Before I could say anything, before I even had a chance to react to my newly recovered memories, Michael pulled me to himself and kissed me with a burning passion that I couldn’t help responding to. “Go to your room.”, he was speaking through gritted teeth, “Stay there. Whatever you hear, don’t come out. Wait for me.”

 “Michael, you don’t really think...”

“For once in your life, do as I say!” and then much softer “Please.”

 The desperation on his face was more than enough to silence my protests. Without another word I turned around and left for my room. As I was closing the door, I looked at him one last time, his silvery-blue eyes were on me, and those beautiful lips formed the word “go” in silence. I heard footsteps, apparently entering the great hall, and Mead came to his side in the balcony looking worried. They exchanged a glance and Michael’s face was transformed by rage, for a split second I thought I saw a flash of the white faced demon again. The last thing I heard before the door clicked shut were the sweet tones of a woman’s voice coming from downstairs. She spoke very softly, but I could hear her clear as day:

 “Find our sisters.”

[maura-roo]

Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman

I found Ex Libris tucked behind another book I wanted on a library shelf, and as I simply cannot resist essay anthologies, and this one was all about books, I read it in one sitting. Books and reading to me are sacrosanct. Not an hour of my life passes that I do not think of books. Everything reminds me of one I have read, am currently reading, would like to read, distantly know about but have no interest in, etcetera. The most surefire way for me to find the motivation to do something is to imagine I am a book character, and to narrate the scene in my head as I enact it. This is seriously how I trick myself into cooking dinner. Given the depth of my bibliomania, there was little in this compilation that did not resonate with my soul, and I am going to share the best ones. Sharing the Mayhem was an essay about reading aloud. I think anyone who has ever spoken to me knows of my passion for this topic. I listen to podcasts about it. Like, more than one, about reading out loud. It is one of my most positive childhood memories, it is something I still do with my siblings, and once I had a friend start reading to me just because, and I started crying. So, I loved this one. Insert a Carrot is an essay about compulsive proofreading. I do this. I feel like a dick sometimes because most people don’t want their text messages picked apart, but it is reflexive. Though I sometimes intentionally use a word that doesn’t exist, or spice up the grammar for the sake of getting my dramatic point across, I assure you that the errors are intentional sacrifices for the sake of style. The way I feel about correcting grammatical and spelling errors is how I imagine my mother feels about watching those pimple popping videos. Guilty and somewhat embarrassed for the subject, but deeply satisfied at the conclusion. (I do not watch pimple popping videos). Never Do That to a Book is an essay that really, really hit home for me. Fadiman describes readers as loving their books in either a courtly manner or a carnal one. So often book lovers are appalled by a reader dog-earing a page, or opening a book so wide that the spine breaks. These are the courtly loving readers. I am firmly in the camp of carnal readers. My books are left spread-eagled on the table overnight to mark my place, they are torn, and crunkled, and probably have spilled tea on them. My sister's copy of I Am Malala has blood smeared on the back cover from the time I took it with me to make a plasma donation. My copy of Little Dorrit is deformed and crunchy from taking a swan dive out of my car, where it lives as my 'just in case book', right into a snowbank. Our communal Harry Potter paperbacks that went around my family in a loop as we all took turns reading them, and rereading them, and rereading them a half dozen more times have completely fallen apart. The fourth book is taped together with packing tape, and there is green duct tape on top of that because the first taping job didn't last. The fifth book is in 3 pieces that we just prop up next to each other on the shelf. I like my books loved, just as I like the rest of my possessions. I am a super tactile person, and it makes me sad when books are touch-starved, used decoratively, placed on a pedestal, kept in pristine condition. They aren't meant for that, they're meant to be read and loved, like the Velveteen Rabbit. "How beautiful to a genuine lover of reading are the sullied leaves, and worn-out appearance... How they speak of the thousand thumbs that have turned over their pages with delight! Who would have them a whit less soiled?" - Charles Lamb wrote this, and it was included in the essay. I love it. I also deeply love Charles Lamb. There are eighteen essays in here, and they're all worth reading if you're as obsessive about books as I am.

[deepintoforestwego]

Oblivion at bay

The Prince has worse day.

To explain, to those unaware- Lost Prince can only have worse days, because every day is bad day for him. Never does smile cross his features, never does laugh find it’s way from his throat, never does ache leave his bones, never does he find motivation to do anything but languish. Sometimes he spends centuries sitting in one spot, frozen silent, frown marring his face, and not a sound comes from him, not a twitch of muscle. Nothing can move him- world could burn, planes could break, and Prince would sit there, apathetic and uncaring.

So he can only get worse. There are days, ages he spends cupping his face and sobbing (none know for what, and perhaps neither does he), curling in ball and screaming, fainting from exhaustion and tearing his immortal flesh in panic (there is no blood, just darkness and dust beneath ever healing skin). His followers know this quickly- when pale, faded world around them goes gray, when kingdom that is always faraway no matter where you are going from becomes utterly hidden, when sky rains leaden tears, when broken tower starts falling apart even more, when abandoned corpse of city around it rots into dust, when shadows wail, and each inhabitant feels a gap inside themselves, something no food or treasure or person can feel, when ravens mourn and black earth bleeds.

(A note, to remember about lands of Faerie, which you may call First World, Feywild, Elphame or however you prefer- you can judge mood and fate of ldest lords by their domains. Some will tell you that power of archfey is so great that it forces capricious realms to bend to them and their feelings and wishes, others will claim that minds and lives of shapers are intervened with their kingdoms. Third will yet say that Lords and Ladies are but avatars through which land speaks, while fourth yet claim that holdings of Feywild’s almost-but-not-quite gods are just pieces of them thrown up outside. Perhaps none are right, or maybe they all are at same time, or it depends on Lord in question. It doesn’t  explain quite bit about mercurial and whimsical nature of their servants-it isn’t easy being dryad in world where sunlight and seasons depend on your ruler’s relationship stability, which is also why all of them meddle in their monarch’s personal lives far too much to be safe or sane).

As first strangled whine left his mouth, so did each thing, a fey and mortal and demigod and beast (no plants, not anymore, not safe enough) cry out in horror and warning, and rush towards throne room- which is never in same place, and in these situations tends to hide away, to shield away Melancholy Lord from prying of others, and from it’s deep seated fear of him maybe ever getting better- after all, it is house built on mourning, and abandonment, and fact there is only one being that sees value in it’s shattered walls and broken roofs. Recovery would take it away.

Still, those fresh and mortal to this land of loss and pity still hope and pray to deities so far away, that they will soon fully leave, that land is not part of Prince, and that it can be convinced to reveal him, for neither does it want him to suffer and harm himself, or if tower is a part of him that there is piece of Prince that wants to be helped, so they run and hope.

Girl who arrives, without realizing at first, is mostly human, with bit of touch of Outsiders- grandmother of her grandparent’s grandfather was a banshee, who grew too close to her clan ( it could make him some sort of divine Father, she thinks, for they say banshees were screamed in existence when Lost Prince realized his mortal followers died, bound to watch and mourn their descendants).  Her head is bald, her eyes gold and silver, her clothes wildly colourful, as if she was wearing carnival tent, and there are vials of poison around her belt, and deaths on her blade, innocent and guilty both.

,, My Lord. How can I help?’’ She asks, kneeling low before man who would look almost pretty and wholly  gaunt and mostly human if not for red markings ghastly burning on his skin, like coal slowly dying (they like to believe those are symbols, that there is meager joy left in him that they can light up again) and empty eyes, holes filled with void that predated cosmos.

‘‘Get lost!’‘ He snips at her, words as bitter and painful as taste of nightshade, a barbed wire, or thorns sinking in veins.  there is force in them, though they are quiet and cold, that makes skin ripple and wind whip at her face. She doesn’t care- Lost Prince never has kind word for anybody, but what it matters when he feeds you, helps you bury your sisters, finds you home, saves you from prison, all in different unremarkable guises until you put together pieces and find way into Feywild and beg yourself in his service.

‘‘ My Lord, what do you need?’‘ She asks again, watching man in front of her, whose age she can’t really guess, somewhere between sixteen and fifty ( in appearance at least), who is breathing harshly,  muddy tears running down his cheeks and burning and melting stone below, barely hanging on his throne, hair messy and hands around knees. It is worthless question, but still she asks- they tried everything, brought therapists from every plane and time, but nothing could help this sorrow that existed for itself, that had no name and no history. Still, they have to hope.

‘‘To leave me.’‘ He almost spits, after what might have been minutes or hours.He doesn’t know he doesn’t see, he cries and is lost in fading memories, but he can’t remember name, anything before this tiredness and pain, nothing else.

‘‘‘...I see. If you need us...’‘ he is rude, and cold Lord, but each member of his court has been saved in secrecy, and never has he tried to claim credit for that. Who knows how more he has actually saved, who never realized that. There is no creature here that wouldn’t die for him, whether in battle or by hanging themselves after his despair seeps in them too.

‘‘I won’t. Now please leave me alone.’‘ He begged them, commanded them, go, leave, leave me and this awful cursed place alone, but they wouldn’t, they insist on thanking him, on serving him, as if he wanted that, as if he would have hid his identity if he wanted to call in life debt (how many has he amassed, and let slip through his fingers as ones he saved lived good and happy lives, unlike his peers, who would have bound them unto eternal service).

,,And...sorry.’’ he whispers as doors close, and word spreads through his domain, and girl gets idea.

‘‘You are not one of mine. Not yet. Why are you here?’‘ The Green Mother asks, her bark skin perfectly chiseled, her dress of thorny vines creeping and moving, flowers growing and withering on it. She is beautiful, in way old tree near her former home was, in way flowers bursting through pavement are. Not a grandiose, elevated beauty that is glorious and frightening and overloads senses, but patchwork of ordinary and pretty thing cobbled together in something alluring and subtle. But she is a wooden statue, green thorns growing from her, with hands strong enough to crush skulls, and magic even greater.

‘‘Your Majesty, I am here to bring you information.’‘ The Feasting Flower is one of queens of Faerie. Not like Tiandra, painted by greatest artists with summer’s sun in her palm and costly spear tinged with blood of thousands, or Queen of Air and Darkness, whispered about by frightened mothers and weary travelers, winds searing through night at her command, thousands murdered by winter’s bite at her glance. She is thing of fields and deep woods, sang in ballads of peasants and bored, thief of babies and owner of hundred mortal lovers, not goddess bestowing favor upon virtuous knights and forcing Feywild to bend beneath her scorching fist, not plotter of frozen heart that topples empires, unleashing armies of dark upon world.  And not any lesser and safer for that. Just smaller and more common interest. Which may in fact be more awful.

‘‘Are you? Then go on. I hope it is worth my time-you may be rewarded for that.’‘ Or punished otherwise. They call her in mortal world many things, sometimes slut and succubus’s sister and temptress. But carnal acts of lust and seduction are just an aspect of hers. She is intrigues woven in caves beneath earth, growth and decay of plantlife, the charming appeal of evil. Even her seduction is more of that of venus flytrap. She is hungry for secrets as she is for flesh and hearts, in literal and metaphorical meaning equally. Her tight smile is that of mafia boss, of information broker, and she is covered in green and red, like emeralds and blood.

‘‘My Lord-The Lost Prince- is feeling worse then usual. Me and several others have thought that maybe..’‘‘ The thorns writhe and dance, and trees burst in fruits and sap flows freely as girl suffocates from pollen, and Green Mother smiles wide and bloody. The Eldest of fey have lived for long time, and been many things to each other.  The Green Mother has bedded each of them, and found sour and sorrowful Lost Prince worst and hardest-for hardly it could be called sex, as she laid over  his bare and unmoving body, and he stared in emptiness. Seductress she is, and creature of pride, and she vowed she will show him pleasure that will snap him out of his melancholy. A obsession and hunger that slowly twisted in need to have him adore her, to possess him by whatever means possible.

‘‘Oh? Really? Lovely, perfect in fact. Well then, that is useful information. I would be glad to help- as for you, no poison of your planet’s herb will work on you, nor shall thorns cut your skin, and neither will treants or similar raise a branch against you, and dryads will know you as friend.’‘ The girl’s eyes are wide, but she nods and quickly mutters something in gratitude (not thank you, never that, she isn’t stupid) before running away, moving through still trees, which aren’t taller then mountains or full of diamond flowers and impossible fruits, but are still thick and would tear her apart in heartbeat if their capricious mistress demanded so.

It is truth of life that it always adapts. Lost Prince’s sorrow wrecks the tower, and they learn to live around it. Some leave, some die, some remain, more come, for still Prince helps as he cries. It is one day that they feel arrival, something old and powerful and wild tearing through magics hiding their joyless kingdom from all others, forcing Feywild to reveal demiplane of Crumbling Tower to it.

The doors of tower-one of them- are old wood, rotten and broken, and realm they were grown at is not there anymore. Parts of it turn to dust, others to black mush, held together by rusting metal, but they burst open, wood stretching and shifting, growing younger and greater, rejecting it’s chains, warping until it is young and healthy and alive, with heavy crowns and roots tearing apart stone.

‘‘AND MAMA HAS ARRIVED!’‘ Voice shouts so strong every creature, from giants to microbes knows it. Green Mother stands at entrance, waving, fueled with strength of joy that still can’t make her smile seem warm or her eyes soft, each movement obvious and overly dramatic. She struts along, roots and thorns growing in her steps, cloud of pollen spreading and making everybody cry and choke and flail until they are red in face, and withering once she passes away, not decaying as plants do, turning orange and brown then drying out, but crumbling in dust in seconds, for Green Mother is creature of desire and energy, sensuality and growth, and neither can be found here.

‘‘Hello. What do you need?’‘ Lost Prince asks once it becomes clear she won’t leave, when flowers bloom from his throne. He doesn’t call her by her name, or title, but in language of archfey elder then sylvan, a set of images and impressions describing her.

A dank cave, filled with dirt and clay and dust, stench of decay of decomposing plants, ready to give birth to new life, spiders crawling across walls.

A flower rises from earth. Brilliant and soft red-green, petals wide and spotted, full of pollen. Bees and butterflies come to it, and when they fly down they can’t leave, and it swallows them whole, as it does same to humans and fiends and fey.

There is man, and he is beautiful and wealthy and liar and has voice like honey, and he plans and plots and weaves his webs, and baits unhappy wives and daughters and sisters to his bed, because he has wild urges he will never let go unsatisfied, and he makes them pawns, and he becomes king and there is sea of blood and tears and so many lost, so many unmarked graves, oh the orphans...

‘‘Me? Whatever is needed at the moment. Now, only your smile and affection, my dear.’‘ She moves slowly, but swags and shakes her body (and who knows how it may seem to him, and he to her- for archfey know the truth of each other’s forms, even as they shift themselves in strangest ways. He thinks it reasonable to her to model herself after elves and dryads, for she is closest to them and has had hand in their history many times, and she finds it quaint and sweet how he makes himself in human, for they live so short and but a few will be known and remembered). And him too she calls by his nature.

A historian, old and grey, stands alone in library combs their way through artifacts found beneath ruins of civilization whose name nobody knows, and they takes books of their predecessors and colleagues and pick information from them, and travel through past, recalling what they know and have learnt about symbols found inscribed at walls.

They called children insane, called them abnormal and weird and unnatural, because their brain was missing few steps and didn’t work the same and it was easier to scream then to figure out way to accommodate, and so they made them mad, screaming and broken and crying and never speaking, when all they needed was rest, to calm down and clear mind and filter out so many emotions.

There is a queen, and she keeps her tears inside even as her grief crushes her, for she thought her  beautiful husband loved her, but he is cruel king and liar, but she must make her  family, her line, all who came before her proud, so she swallows down her pain and lets herself become symbol of loss and pain and strength, lets people put her on pedestal as he screams and hits and cuts her, only as long as she can keep pieces of his rage away from people...

‘‘You won’t find it then. You have wasted your time.’‘ He still breathes unevenly, and cries, and his episode weight heavily on all, even on her, who would have almost shuddered from pain and loss and something like shadow of regret if her power wasn’t as great, if her hunger wasn’t as deep, and if she didn’t remember  time before this, when he could be happy. It is thankful that archfey can speak to each other by mind and meaning, for he wouldn’t be able to get a word out as much as he cries.

‘‘Are you sure? I’m good at digging out things people don’t even know they had.’‘ She shakes her body and puts her hands around his neck. Subtlety is lost on one such as him, and if she had human ideals she would have been ashamed of acting like some unskilled, fresh strumpet, but she is hungry thing and means never matter. She looks at him, and wonders whether he has sexual or romantic desires at all, which would mean she would have to make herself his best friend or surrogate sister or something. It is hard to figure him out, when he has desire for nothing, only some strange duty to help the helpless and remember forgotten. It is awful and makes her leaves turn brown at thought of help without debt, without betrayal and regret, but that is why it is so alluring-perhaps he could teach her something too.

‘‘Like this! A great kingdom, known all over it’s realm-now nothing but dust, because it’s emperor became lich, called upon Old Ones and tried to ascend to godhood. You know, classic. But I preserved it’s capitol. Only for you.’‘ She hands him a glass globe, and inside is truly beautiful capitol, and he holds it and watches ruined buildings, watches bodies covering them, hands of dead clutching each other.

‘‘ I see... I think I heard of this. Some centuries ago-yet already ti is gone from memory. had some very unusual trees.’‘ She smiles wider, grasping for compliment, feeling proud of herself, as he stares on thorns and brilliant red flowers covering city, as he stares on all dead families and destroyed buildings.

‘‘I will gift you for this. Now leave my domain.’‘ he stops crying, and she counts it as win, as he stares at globe, hands shaking. With a mimicked kiss she leaves, planning how to continue this ‘‘romance.’‘

‘‘My Lord?’‘ An old woman comes, dressed in colourful clothes, eyes silver and gold. Prince says nothing, just goes over and hugs her, tight and strong, face frowning and eyes narrowed, hands cold, but he isn’t crying as he puts his head over hers, as he gives her globe and says look.

She doesn’t regret it.