#because my bloods were taken back at the start of december

[majorsoapfan]

Has anyone ever felt like absolutely awful over a period of weeks, like you're exhausted all the time even after waking up, you're having trouble concentrating, memory problems, your temper has no fuse at this point, and you don't know what's up other than thinking than you need to sleep more/learn to chill out?

And then you go to the doctor and get your bloods done and as it turns out you're actually what could be considered dangerously low in something important? And therefore is playing whack with other components in your blood?

Then you look up the symptoms of having said low components and in the end you're just like:

'Well that explains a lot.'

Because I'm going through that exact scenario right now.

And I do not recommend.

(At least I know now why I just haven't had the energy to really write, or do anything over the last few weeks. And when I did why it took so much longer than normal. But now I'm in the limbo of waiting for my levels to come up again and it's hell.)

[paulyenvol6]

Ruined

Hiii I'm back :))) I finished my exams and I have a lot more time to write now which I'm looking forward to. I have this one shot that I started in December and just finished writing so I hope you enjoy it <3

Jeyne, a poor common girl, has made the mistake of being caught stealing by Daemon Targaryen. Now she must face the consequences.

Contains: rape, non-con, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, degrading, virginity loss, crying, choking, gagging, anxiety, detailed description of pain and fear, possessiveness, objectification, words like slut and whore, very dark themes, kind of a plot twist

Read with caution!

Wordcount: ~6.73k

Masterlist

It was a warm evening.

Way too warm for the rogue prince's taste and thanks to his heavy armour he was sweating so much that he wished he could just take it off and have a cold bath. But of course he was way too pragmatical to complain about if to himself so he shifted his attention back to the busy market before his eyes.

The sound of laughter, chatter, the screams of children and music filled the air and in any other case perhaps the good mood would've spilled over to him so that he felt excited and animated as well but not tonight. Not when he knew he had to stay here for so many countless minutes more. The thing that bothered him the most was probably the fact that he felt so useless. It wasn't like he was defending his city in brave fights or served as a bearer of justice, no he was walking around beneath that draining sun while watching over commoners who went about their daily tasks such as buying vegetables or spending the evening in a tavern with their friends. He felt almost pathetic like that.

Nothing was happening except a few men hitting each other with bottles of ale and a singer whose ugly voice and incapacity of hitting the right notes had left the audience so unsatisfied that they had started to throw little stones at him. Daemon hadn't even intervened. He was beneath that, he found. He was meant for the battles. When all he could see or taste was hot blood and the adrenaline shot through his veins so quickly that he became dizzy. Seven hells, right now he thought that he was rather meant to be in a pleasure house having his cock sucked than rotting away on his post by the market.

To pass the time Daemon started to think about Dorysa, the blackhaired beauty from Pentos who everyone called Scarlet Fever because of her signiture deep red lips that were such a tempting contrast to her dark skin. She was a whore in his favourite pleasure house in the street of silk and had established herself as one of his favourites. What would he give to be buried inside of her now…

While he daydreamed his eyes lazily wandered over the scene. He yawned open-mouthedly and then his gaze fell on a person with reddish hair that looked like it was glowing in the moonlight. Perhaps that was the very reason why Daemon didn't immediately let his eyes wander further but instead watched her. Because her hair was beautiful, a blonde-gold with an orange tone in it. He smiled and then just wanted to turn his attention to the rest of the people again when suddenly he realized what it was she was doing right now.

This little wench had just stolen something! That was why she had sneaked around so strangely. She had taken something from the merchant's booth and now intended to slip away as inconspicuously as possible. Daemon narrowed his eyes and then without giving it a second thought made his way to the girl. While he approached he stared at the back of her head but when he was only a few feet away she turned around and widened her eyes when she noticed his armour. Swiftly and sleekly as a cat the girl turned to the side and ran towards a little alley that led into the more gloomy and decrepit streets of the city.

The trader shouted a loud "Come back you little bitch!" but Daemon didn't pay attention to him. Instead he followed the girl as quickly as he could and passed the rest of the trader's booths until he entered the alleyway as well. It was dark and he couldn't see a lot but he was able to hear her fast steps on the stone ground. She was fast, yes, but Daemon was faster. She barely made it around a corner when he managed to grab her by her upper arm and stop her. The girl squeaked in surprise and started to hit and push at his upper body at once but his grip was like iron and she didn't stand a chance against him.

"Let me go, seven hells!" she cursed and Daemon watched her helpless attempts while examining her more closely.

Her eyes were somewhere between green and hazel but in the dim light he wasn't sure. She had soft features, high cheekbones and soft-looking lips that were drawn into a pout at the moment. And then there were her blonde-reddish hair of course that fell straight to her chest which rose and fell rapidly right now. Then his eyes wandered up to her face again and he could read her expression as both determined and fearful.

"I didn't do anything, let me go at once," she hissed and squirmed in his grip.

"You stole something."

"I didn't, I swear!" Daemon scoffed and then forcefully reached into the pocket of her linen dress. The girl tried to push him away and hide what laid in her pocket but he managed to grab it and triumphantly held the necklace in the air.

"You didn't?"

She dropped her gaze and thoughtfully chewed on her lower lip.

"Please. I'll give it back, but please don't chop off my hand."

She looked so pathetic and whiny that Daemon had to surpress a smirk. He wouldn't get blinded by her show though so he pulled her closer.

"You know that you have to get punished for this. It's the law, little one."

Her eyes literally begged him and he saw her buttom lip tremble.

"Please, my prince. Please have mercy."

He chuckled quietly. "You're not well educated, girl. Because you should know that I'm not a merciful man."

She tried to fight him again and pushed at his arm in order to make him loosen his grip but of course Daemon just watched her amused.

"What's your name, little one?"

"Jeyne," she whispered almost inaudible.

"Jeyne…," he repeated. "You did something very stupid there, didn't you? And I will have to do something about it."

His voice was low and raspy, almost intimidating and a shiver ran down Jeyne's spine. All of a sudden he started to walk and dragged her with him. She tried to escape and started to shout for help but of course no one would dare help her against the prince of the city.

"What are you doing, let me go!!" she screamed but Daemon simply ignored her complaints and went about his way. She didn't know where he was taking her and that made her feel nervous and panicky. What if he would chop off her hand? That was what the gold cloaks usually did with thieves and this was the rogue prince who was famous for being especially cruel and brutal. Or what if he would kill her?

Jeyne pulled and turned in his grip, hit him with her fist against his chest but he only tightened his hand around her arm while not even looking at her. It was so dark that she couldn't see where he was taking her at first and since she was blind with fear and fright, she had no eyes for her surroundings. Jeyne only realized where they were when Daemon stopped in front of a wooden door which he opened smoothly and dragged her with him.

"What are you doing? Let me go, please."

She hated how weak her voice sounded but at the same time Jeyne was unable to hide her panic. She had no choice but to follow him and then he stopped again once he stood in front of the inn keeper. It was the raven's rest, of course. A place for the more worthy population of king's landing and therefore a place for the prince.

"What is this, what are we doing here?" she demanded to know but was ignored once more.

"My prince. How can I serve you?" The man asked not even looking at the girl he had dragged with him for a second.

"I just need a quiet place. A room preferably."

The inn keeper nodded and bowed his head so low that he almost bumped his head against the counter.

"Of course. You will have the best room of all. Only the best for my prince."

Daemon was immune to his false friendliness and just nodded graciously. Then Jeyne felt herself getting pulled again and her captor roughly and without caring if she got hurt dragged her up the stairs.

"Stop it, what are you doing? Please, I don't want to…"

She squirmed and refused to follow him but if only she was a little stronger because she wasn't able to do anything to fight the rogue prince off. A few seconds later she found herself in front of a door and then in the blink of an eye they were in a room that was quite comfortable and big for an inn.

The walls were made of rough-hewn stone and darkened by years of soot from the hearth below. It was lit, filled the room with a comfortable warmth and the scent of burned cedar got into her nose. There was also a small writing desk and two chairs and a four poster bed that was the center of the room. But that was not where Daemon was heading now because he forcefully pushed Jeyne on one of the two chairs and then towered over her.

"P-Please don't kill me. I swear it upon everything I have, I will never steal again," she whimpered and looked up pleadingly to him with those deer eyes that drove Daemon insane.

"You swear it upon everything you have? You have nothing, little flower. You are nothing but a common stupid little girl who was unwise enough to get caught by me."

"Please," she breathed again and twitched when the prince took hold of her chin.

"You don't think criminals should get punished for their crimes?"

She nodded with wet eyes and her hands anxiously gripped the chair below her.

"They should. But please… Please just don't kill me."

He laughed out and it confused her so much that she forgot about her fear for a moment.

"I'm not gonna kill you, little girl. But you do know what's the punishment for stealing?"

"Yes," she whispered with a trembling buttom lip.

"Say it," Daemon commanded.

"You chop off their hand."

She droped her gaze and just wished with her whole heart that she had stayed home earlier.

"Yes. Do you want that to happen to you?"

She shook her head so quickly that her hair was flying through the air. "N-No, please not."

Daemon smirked and then straightened up to walk around the room.

"Well, that's unfortunate."

"J-Just lock me in a cell for a while…. Or I could work for the merchant I stole from."

He tilted his head at her and then his hand connected with her jaw again.

"No," he hummed and Jeyne felt her heart drop to her legs.

"You're gonna serve me in another way, little flower."

She freezed, couldn't form a thought in her head from feeling so scared when his finger grazed over her skin.

"You're a lovely sight, sweetheart. Has anyone ever had you?"

Jeyne couldn't answer. She feared that she might start to cry if she opened her mouth so she pressed her lips tightly together while the king's brother watched her curiously.

"Has your flower been plucked, little one?"

Her heart was pounding so rapidly that she thought she might die and Jeyne dug her nails into the palms of her hands in an attempt to get rid of some of the fear and chaos in her stomach. She replied to him by shaking her head slightly and Daemon chuckled contently.

"I thought so. A pure little innocent thing like you wouldn't give herself to a man before marriage, isn't that right? Though you're very far away form being innocent."

Jeyne squeezed her eyes as she felt his hand traveling down to her neck and then his fingers stroke the thin and sensitive skin there.

"You really are a little flower. So vulnerable and pretty. And so ready to be plucked."

Her fear was now overshadowed by a panic creeping up in her belly that spread all over her body and made her see white.

"Please, no, my prince, don't do it, please. I'm begging you, just don't – "

Jeyne squirmed on the chair trying to fight him off but was caught off when he wrapped a hand around her throat.

"You know better than to do this, girl," he sighed and his green eyes flashed with anger and amusement which was an odd combination.

"You deserve this. You broke the law. You took something that isn't yours and now I'm gonna take something that isn't mine but I'll make it mine. Consider this your punishment."

A croaked gasp left her throat and her face started to redden while he tigthened his hand around her neck. She tried to peel his hand off by pulling at it but Daemon made her suffer a little longer before he loosened his grip. Jeyne greedily inhaled the dry air in the room and a single tear ran down her face.

"On your knees. Now," he hissed but she painfully shook her head trying to activite any kind of pity or humanity in the prince.

"Please, my prince, I'm supposed to save myself for marriage… And I'm scared…," she cried and Daemon forcefully pulled the girl to the stone floor. Her knees achingly brushed over the floor but she really had bigger problems right now so she ignored the sting.

"You should be grateful I let you off this easily. I could have your hands for what you did. And you're lucky to be taken by a dragon, little flower. It's an honour for a filthy little common girl like you."

Jeyne tried to stand up to flee from him but he just grabbed her hair and pushed her down again.

"Ohh sweetling, there's no need to make this that hard."

"Fuck you," she spat angrily. "Let me go, I don't want this."

Daemon brushed over her hair in a gentle way and it only made her even angrier. "Shh. Be quiet and open your mouth."

Her mouth tensed and she determindely pressed her lips together.

"I'm not gonna open my mouth for you, you little bastard," Jeyne hissed but then she let out a gasp when Daemon smacked her across the face.

"One more disrespectful word out of your slutty mouth and you'll regret ever raising your voice to me."

His voice sounded so cold that something inside tightened and her next words got stuck in her throat.

"Good. Now open your mouth."

That, Jeyne wouldn't do. She would never let him enter her mouth let alone be used to his liking.

"No," she breathed which earned her another slap.

"Do it now. You forget that this is your punishment for a crime that you've committed. You'd be smart to obey me or you'll face much worse and more painful conequences."

Daemon's fingers suddenly enclosed around her nose so the air entering her body was cut off. In a matter of seconds Jeyne realized why he was doing it but she remained stubborn and refused to open up for him.

"Open, little flower. You have no choice."

When she finally accepted that she would have to open her mouth soon because she'd suffocate otherwise Jeyne parted her lips just a tiny bit so she could swallow some fresh air but to her misfortune Daemon seized his chance and pushed two fingers past her lips.

"There we go, sweet girl. Oh and you have such a warm perfect fucking mouth. I know it will feel so good around my cock."

He had grown more eager now with the prospect of inserting himself into this heavenly warmth so he quickly and singlehandedly loosened the belt and then his pants to free his already half-hardened cock. But once his manhood was exposed he felt a sting in his hand and pulled it away from the girl.

"Fuck," he cursed watching the blood leak from the spot where she had bitten him.

Jeyne took advantage of the situation and quick as the wind jumped to her feet and made her way to the door. This was her only chance to escape, she would rush downwards and then through the streets of king's landing. No matter where, just away from Daemon.

But the thoughts about her plan were cut off when she was suddenly pulled back before she even could reach the door. A desperate and frustrated cry left her mouth and she felt how the prince dragged her down to her knees again. Then he clenched his hand around her chin and the angered expression on his face made her fear the consequences of her attempt.

"Stupid little slut. You think you can escape from me? I will fuck your little hole, no matter if you're willing or not. You've got yourself in this position, don't forget that."

He forcefully opened her jaw and pushed his cock past her lips. It was so sudden and powerful that she was unable to fight back and Daemon let out a deep groan.

"Oh seven hells."

He had his eyes closed and fully ignored the way Jeyne tried to move away from his member. He was heavy and veiny and tasted a little salty. She had never seen a cock before let alone had one in her mouth and the fact that he and not her future husband was the first one to do these things with her brought tears to her eyes.

But that was not the only thing bothering her. Daemon bruised her throat at a quick pace and hit the back of it every time which left her gagging and choking. She wanted to get away and make him pull back but Daemon held her head in place while taking what he wanted.

"Yeah, that's a good girl. You have a good fucking mouth. Who would've thought?"

Jeyne let out a cry and pushed against his thighs in order to get him to leave her alone but Daemon just laughed about her attempts.

"You're gonna take it, sweetheart. And you know you deserve it after what you've done. You can be glad that I haven't chopped your dirty little hands off."

He was so deep inside of her mouth that his balls pressed against her face and Jeyne felt like throwing up. She choked and felt tears rolling down her face but of course the prince didn't pay any attention to it. He just growled to himself and looked down to the kneeling girl while smirking crookedly.

Daemon didn't last long. He had found a liking in the little common girl and was more than pleased with the way she felt around his cock and so after merely a couple of minutes that had felt like hours to Jeyne he hissed sharply, threw his head back and then his seed shot down her throat. She gasped surprised and instinctively tried to make his cock slip out but but Daemon wanted to make sure that she swallowed everything so he held her head with both hands and sighed contently as he looked down to her.

"Oh seven hells," he moaned and ran his right hand over her soft hair.

He still wouldn't let go off her so Jeyne desperately looked up to him which almost made his cock swell again. And then he finally loosened his grip on her head and she immediately brought distance between them to cough and deeply inhale fresh air. She was a sight, Daemon thought. Her hair was messy and stood in all directions and her eyes looked glossy and like she was far away with her thoughts. His assault had made her cheeks turn red and of course the wetness on her face was well visible.

"Come here," Daemon spoke a little softer now and reached out to grab her arms.

"N-No," she coughed and hit his arm but he just picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the bed.

"You wanna do this the hard way, huh?" he spitted and threw her on the mattress.

Instead of pinning her down at once Daemon stood next to the bed and towered over her watching her with arched eyebrows. For a moment Jeyne was too frightened to try and flee again so she looked up to him with wide eyes instead.

"You have two options now, babygirl. I'm either gonna prepare your tight cunt for me or I'll just take you like this which will be a lot more painful for you. It depends on you. If you continue to be such an ungrateful bitch I swear I'll shove my cock inside you and press your head in the cushions so I don't have to listen to your pathetic crying and screaming."

To say she was frightened was an understatement. Jeyne couldn't get a word out and just silently watched him while he climbed onto the bed. Daemon thought that he perhaps had broken her now because she didn't fight back when he crawled to lay on top of her. Yet he wanted didn't want to give her too much space to resist which was why he took both her wrists in one of his big hands and pinned them above her head. A single tear rolled down her flushed cheeks which Daemon wiped away with his pointer finger.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," he whispered. "I like seeing your tears way too much."

His smirk made her let out a sob but he quickly surpressed it by pressing his lips on hers. In the meantime his hands came down to find more naked skin and soon he couldn't wait any longer. He had barely seen anything of her so he clenched his hands around the fabric covering her chest and ripped it apart. Jeyne jolted and her hands instinctively covered her breasts which Daemon commented with a dissatisfied scoff. He pinned her hands down once more while regarding her upper body.

It was too much for her, the way his eyes flashed and this mischievious look on his face that screamed: 'I'm thinking about all the things that I want to do to you.' Jeyne squeezed her eyes as though it would make her disappear and only opened them again when she felt a big hand cupping and then kneading her left breast. His hand was cold and rough and she felt herself getting goosebumps.

"You have some pretty tits," he growled and even if it was supposed to be a compliment it only made the lump in her throat thicken. She felt the urge to run and push him back and wash his touch and scent off her body.

"Please," she whimpered because although she knew that Daemon was as cruel as a man could be she hoped that she would be able to move a little something in him.

"Please don't. I'm scared."

Her voice was so thin and quiet that he had to tilt his head in order to hear her. His hand slowly approached her body and Jeyne tensed fearing what he would do. But he gently stroke the side of her face and held her almost as if she was made of glass.

"Shhh," was all he said and then Jeyne shrieked again as she felt how Daemon ripped her dress further so it loosely hang around her belly. He took advantage of her surprise and pulled it down until her whole body was bare underneath his gaze and it was so much to take in that the prince needed a second to collect himself.

"Gods be good," he hummed and started to slowly draw circles on her stomach. "Aren't you a pretty little thing? Can't wait to make this body all mine."

Before Jeyne was able to protest he had forced a hand between her legs and she didn't stand a chance when Daemon spread them. Suddenly she was filled with a new determination to make him stop which probably was caused by her body realizing that she was in great danger right now because her legs started to kick him and her whole body twitched and turned. He reacted quickly though.

"Stupid slut," he cursed and pressed with his one hand on her hips while his other squeezed her neck. "I thought I made myself clear."

She wasn't able to keep up her fighting for long and soon she fell back on the bed again. Daemon wasn't done with punishing her though because he threatingly flared his nostrils without saying anything which only made her feel even more anxious. His hand stayed around her neck while he went back to spreading her legs by pushing a knee between them. Jeyne's eyes filled with tears as she felt the coldness of his skin against her thighs. She mumbled something that he couldn't understand but it sounded like a desperate cry that made his eyes darken with lust.

This was the moment when Jeyne understood something. This was exactly what he wanted. He got off on seeing her cry and struggle. The thing he enjoyed the most about all of this was the power in it. She was a poor common girl without any power in this world. There was nothing she was able to do against him and Daemon would never face justice for his actions which he knew. Because he was Daemon Targaryen, commander of the city watch and brother to the king. He could do whatever he wanted and Jeyne could do nothing but endure it. By crying and begging she only fueled his desire because it made him aware of the power he held over her at this moment.

Jeyne was snapped back to reality when his hand cupped her sex. She wanted to scream and cry and let out her desperation but she forced herself not to. She simply didn't want to give him the satisfaction and she definitely didn't want to give him what he wanted. So her lips were pressed together and the only sign of her fear were the tears spilling from her eyes every few seconds. She was still and stiff when his finger ran up and down her slit to find that she was dry as a desert.

"Poor girl," Daemon whispered and his free hand enclosed around her chin. "You don't like that?"

Jeyne didn't know if she was supposed to answer and she especially didn't know if she wanted to answer. But eventually her frustration took over and she rapidly shook her head.

"N-No," she said with her shivering voice.

He nodded as if he actually understood and his finger wandered up to her pearl. The girl's lower lip trembled and Daemon precisely watched her face while he started to rub it in tight circles.

"N-No," she repeated and pushed at his arm between her legs.

"Yes," he answered and didn't seem to care about her attempt to get rid of him. "Wanna see this cunt taking my fingers. You can be happy about it. You know I initially wanted to give you a special treat with my tongue but you have missed your chance by behaving like a bratty bitch."

Jeyne didn't know if he had actually punished with this but she didn't think about it for long because suddenly Daemon pushed a finger inside of her hole that was still far from being soaked. She had definitely already experienced more painful things but still it felt aching and uncomfortable so she jolted away from his hand.

"No, you're gonna take it," he breathed against her hand. "You're gonna take it like an obedient whore. And then you're gonna take my cock. The only fucking reason why I'm doing this is so you won't soak these sheets with your blood once I shove my cock inside of you."

His thumb now pressed into her bundle of nerves and Jeyne hated the way she felt a heat rising in her cheeks. Why did her body betray her like this? She despised everything about what was happening here right now but no matter how hard she tensed and tried to move away from him soon she heard a wet noise every time Daemon's finger moved inside of her. Of course the prince noticed it as well.

"What's that, mhm? You like this, don't you?" he chuckled and added a second finger.

For a moment Jeyne tensed and felt a painful stretch in her core but he didn't hesitate for a second and cruelly moved the two digits to scissor her open.

"I thought you despised this. And now I suddenly have you dripping for me? You're a filthy cock-hungry slut. Worthless and pathetic. Only good thing about you are your holes."

It actually sounded like he hated her and despite feeling just the same way about him Jeyne had a dark and bitter feeling in her stomach. She was so scared of this man who was a lot stronger than her and was able to do anything he wanted to her right now. No one would save her or come looking for her here.

Her body stiffened which Daemon felt in the way she clenched around him and he slapped her cunt roughly before going back to fingering her. He was eager now, blind with the desire for her tight hole that he was sure would feel so good clenching around him. She was already hugging his fingers so perfectly and he could only imagine what it would do to his cock.

He continued his assault on her pearl and in her hole for a few more minutes but then Daemon grew too impatient. He drew away from her core and when his hand came down to wrap around his shaft Jeyne eye's sprang open.

"N-No, no, no, please."

She didn't care about begging now, didn't care if she was giving him what he desired rather than being able to make a difference. Fear clouded her senses and she just had to put everything into making him stop. She only now realized how big he actually was and how uncomfortable this would be. His fingers had been nothing in comparison.

"Please," Jeyne pleaded and tears fell down to her cheeks. "Please, it's so big and it's gonna hurt so badly, please… I don't want it, don't make me."

Daemon sighed and a smirk appeared on his voice while he leaned down to press a kiss on her brow.

"Oh sweet girl…," he cooed and ran the tip of his cock over her pearl. "Do you think this will hurt more than getting your hand chopped off?"

Jeyne only whimpered in surprised and shrieked when his hand made contact with her cheek.

"Answer me," he ordered.

"N-No I-I don't think s-so," she replied to his question and closed her eyes in desperation when his hand soothingly caressed where he had hit her.

"That's right. So you should be grateful I'm doing this."

"B-But please…. P-Please be g-gentle. I'm scared."

Daemon pouted sarcastically and kissed her cheek. "Oh I will, babygirl. Why do you think I prepared you for me?"

Jeyne didn't know whether he was mocking her or actually telling the truth but there was no time for her to think about it further because then his cock applied pressure on her hole and he started to work his tip inside of her. It hurt so much that she held her breath for a moment. Perhaps the wetness leaking from her hole made this better but she still felt like he was ripping her apart. She couldn't even say anything and complain. All she could do was stare up to him with wide eyes while Daemon worked himself inside of her inch by inch.

"Fuck…. Oh fucking hells, that's right," he moaned with closed eyes. "Gonna tear my fucking cock off, gods be good."

Jeyne just hoped that it wouldn't take him long to finish so she was freed from this unbearable pain as quickly as possible but she couldn't rely on that so she closed her eyes while forcing herself to breathe. It hurt like hell and she felt like her insides were being tortured but she would do this. She had experienced a lot of shitty things in her past and this one wouldn't bring her down. 'Just breathe,' she told herself. 'Don't cry and don't beg because this is exactly what he wants.'

Another part of her urged her to just let out all of her emotions because perhaps this would make him finish faster but Jeyne couldn't let him humiliate her like this. A little amount of dignity was actually left inside of her and she rather would want him to continue his assault a few more minutes than give him the satisfaction to see her so vulnerable and weak.

He was fully inside of her now and Jeyne had to surpress a sob. He was so big that she felt his veins grazing her walls and she didn't know how his cock fitting inside of her was physically possible. Her core was pulsating and all of her senses were on alert because of the intrusion. She dug her nails into the palms of her own hands, anything to direct her attention to something else rather than the intense pain in her center.

Daemon on the other hand dropped his head to his chest and enjoyed feeling her tight walls hugging his cock. He inhaled a few times before backing out of her a little and then forcefully pushed back inside. Jeyne couldn't surpress a gasp and new tears formed in her eyes.

"Yes that's right," he grunted. "What a good fucking cunt. Knew you had to be good for some things."

His degrading words suddenly filled her with anger and she opened her mouth to hiss something at him but Daemon was faster. He pressed a hand on her mouth surpressing whatever it was she had wanted to say and watched her dangerously.

"Can't listen to your annoying voice anymore. Just stay fucking quiet and lay still. S'all I ask of you."

He now started to fuck her at a steady pace that made her eyes widen every time he filled her to the brim. It was so far from feeling good that Jeyne wondered how women were actually enjoying this. Or was this simply because Daemon didn't want her to feel good? His hand on her mouth loosened a little and a smirk formed on his face.

"Don't you hold back, little one," he whispered lowly and ran his thumb over her lip. "Wanna see you cry those pretty tears. I know it hurts, angel. Let me hear how much."

With a sharp thrust in her core he forced a little whine out of her and her facade crumbled.

"N-No," she cried again and she turned her head to the side just so she wouldn't have to look at him anymore. But Daemon hummed disapprovingly and he connected his hand to her chin to adjust her to his liking.

"You can't escape from me, sweetling. You're gonna take it. You're gonna take all of it because you don't have a fucking choice."

His thrusts became more intense now and Jeyne had to bite her bottom lip in order to hide the pain she was feeling.

"Gonna fill you up with my seed. Make your pretty little body swollen and claim you. You're mine from now on." His hand started to toy with her breasts and nipples while his other was occupied with holding her hips now.

"Every time another man will take you you will remember that it was me who took your innocence. It was me who defiled and ruined you. You'll remember my touch, my hands on your body and my cock in your cunt."

He picked up his speed even more and Jeyne was too exhausted to hold anything back so she twitched and whined every time his cock bruised her walls. Her core ached and burned and all she wanted was to get a minute of peace but she knew better than to try and stop him. His grip on her hips and chest was firm and Jeyne just closed her eyes praying that he would release soon.

And he did. After another few minutes he let out little growls and his thrusts became sloppy and then Daemon finally collapsed on top of her and pressed her into the bed with the weight of his body.

"Fuck…," was all he managed to grunt before he stopped pushing into her and laid still on top of her.

Jeyne stiffly waited and counted the seconds until he would finally release her but he took his time. Panting heavily he thrusted into her again to make sure his seed stayed inside of her and then he pulled himself out. It burned at first and she pressed her legs together but soon it faded and for the first time in what had felt like hours her core was able to relax a little.

She turned her head to the side so she didn't have to look at him and this time Daemon actually let her. He sighed deeply and then slowly rolled himself off her.

"Oh gods be good. Who would've thought that this was exactly what I needed tonight."

It sounded like he was speaking to himself so Jeyne didn't bother to answer him and instead stared at the wall next to her. Daemon grabbed his clothes from the floor and got dressed while he watched her with a smirk that she couldn't see. Once he was done he approached the bed again and Jeyne who heard his steps coming closer cramped.

"I'll let you go, little girl. But only because your cunt was so fucking tight."

He slapped her arse twice without Jeyne looking at him and then straightened up. She anxiously waited and just prayed that he would finally leave the room but it was so quiet in the room that she only heard her own heavy breathing.

"Do not get ungrateful now, you little whore," he whispered dangerously. "You will be a good girl and properly say goodbye to your prince while looking at him."

Jeyne felt numb from the fear taking over her and slowly turned her head although everything inside her tensed up.

"Goodbye, my prince," she breathed and waited for his reaction.

Daemon drew his mouth in a smirk and then his hand came down to her arse one more time.

"There you go. And if you'll steal again make sure you'll do it during my watch."

With these words the rogue prince finally left the room. Jeyne waited and listened to his steps that became more quiet until everything was silent. Only then did she get up and put on the clothes that were ready for her on the table. She smiled softly and then rushed to the door to open it energetically only to look into her husband's face that was drawn with a crooked smile.

"How did I do?" he whispered and Jeyne chuckled.

"Almost too good," she breathed and Daemon gently pushed her back until they were back inside the room.

"I feel like I should be concerned by your desire to have me chase you and then pretend to take you against your will, darling."

She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his back.

"Noooo don't overthink it," Jeyne giggled and kissed his cheek.

"How did I do as a common girl?" she then asked.

"You know exactly how well you did," Daemon hissed with small eyes and held the side of her face.

"Would you be open to do it again?" Jeyne begged him with her eyes and took his hand into hers.

He pretended to think but deep down she knew that he wouldn't refuse her. He never could.

"Maybe," he eventually sighed and leaned down to kiss her.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Dreaming and Drowning

This fic will fill my "Take a deep breath." square on my Hurt/Comfort, Sweet & Spicy Bingo card. The prompt will be bolded in the fic. @sweetspicybingo

Summary: Michael is fascinated by Y/N. She isn't the only thing keeping him inside his vessel, but she's a very interesting bonus. Now if only he can keep Dean quiet for long enough to conduct some experiments.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Nothing too terrible. Show level violence. Some descriptions of torture. Threatened/implied sexual assault/non-con (nothing shown or described). Depictions of drowning.

Pairings: Michael!Dean x Y/N and Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 2,579

A/N: I'm trying to work my way through my requests but I'm still back in last December! 😫 I'm sorry to everyone who's put in requests, I'm working on 'em!

Anyway, this request was for a "fatal attraction" Bingo square for a different bingo. It was from the lovely @elle14-blog1 who asked:

Hello Dear Been addicted to your page lately Love the Dean fics So about the Fatal Attraction request Maybe could you write soft dark fatal attraction of Michael Dean towards Dean’s Gf..one of the more reason he doesn’t wanna leave the vessel… Ok bye bye Xoxo💖

That space for that bingo was claimed already. But I really enjoyed this idea, so I said I'd do it another time. Well, here it is. I'm not sure if it's what you were looking for, I hope so. Hope everyone enjoys. This is the first time I've written anything for Michael!Dean, so be nice. 😁

Dean Winchester Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Every once in a while Dean swam to the surface; he broke through heavy, cloying water to suck oxygen into his starving, burning lungs.

But the water was choppy and rushing, the current swept him along at a feverish pace and he could never swim hard enough or fast enough to outrun it; inevitably the cold, gray water would submerge him again and leave him drowning.

But in those few moments of clarity, he’d see her. He’d see the way she was bound, he’d watch the way his hands pulled screams from her lungs. As the water rushed around his ears, it couldn’t drown out the way her voice begged him to stop.

Not me, he reminded himself.

It wasn’t him. This was Michael’s doing. Michael was hurting her.

And who let me in? His own voice would answer back, before shoving him back down under the water with a sneering laugh. 

We both know she’s here because of you, because she wanted to save you from me. So sweet. But who’s going to save HER from me.

Oops, I mean save her from you.

***

Michael watched Y/N struggle, a soft smile on his borrowed countenance; she really was rather extraordinary, this particular little ape. He’d tortured her slowly, nothing too drastic to start, he didn’t want to permanently alter her, not yet.

He was very interested in her, interested in the noises she made when she tried not to scream, in the way he could feel the air shift almost imperceptibly when she held her breath against the pain. He loved to watch the way involuntary goosebumps erupted across her skin when he ran a finger over it. 

How strange, he thought, to not be able to control something as basic as the texture of your skin.

The human body was rather fascinating, hers even more than most. She was so soft in places, her skin bruised so easily, sometimes nothing more than a hard pinch brought a pretty purple stain to her skin. Harder blows bloomed blue and green almost immediately. Her blood ran dark red and tasted coppery with a hint of something more tangy just below the surface.

Is that the difference of her psychic blood? He wondered.

It was why he’d taken her to begin with. He’d been experimenting with all kinds of monsters, and they were finally starting to pay off, but he’d never tried mixing his grace with a psychic, he thought the results might be very interesting. So when a memory had surfaced in Dean Winchester’s brain about his psychic girlfriend, he’d decided to let her find him.

She and Sam Winchester had been searching far and wide for him, for Dean. He could have easily outrun them forever. But he decided to stay put for a moment and let her catch up. All he’d had to do to lure her in was let the ghost of Dean shine through his eyes for a moment and she came running, desperate to help.

And just like that, she was trapped in his web. 

He’d spent the first few days just getting to know her, testing her body’s capabilities and limits; how much could she bleed before she became too weak to stand on her own? How long could she hold back screams when he started cutting? How much force did it take to snap her radius, her femur?

He was thoroughly enjoying his experiments with her, simply healing her up after each one so that he could try his next idea. He’d begun to see what Dean saw in her, there was something quite beautiful in the way the ape struggled against the inevitable, the way she fought against him, knowing her efforts were completely useless. He liked the defiance in her eyes, it made his human body react in interesting ways.

Her pain and her resistance made his pilfered blood run hot and thick in his veins, made his body hard, made him run his hands up and down her body with no other purpose than to feel its softness. 

On his fourth day with her he had her stripped her down to her underthings, intending to burn her with the tip of a poker, curious to see what color her skin turned as it flaked off. He knew he was wasting time really. He’d experimented with her enough, he should be feeding her his grace to see what kind of hybrid monster he could make of the psychic.

But when he saw her in her bra and panties, memories that weren’t his surfaced in his mind, Dean’s memories of how she looked when she was beneath him, the way her head jerked back as she gasped with pleasure, the way her knuckles went white, bunched in the sheets, her body bucking into Dean’s hand, and suddenly he knew how he wanted to finish off his experimentation.

He’d never experimented like this before, none of the human bodies he’d encountered in the past had affected him this way. He wasn’t sure if it was some kind of pull from her psychic blood, or the memories he had access to, or if it was simply the enjoyment he’d already gotten from this flesh, but for the first time he felt an earthly need for the body in front of him. 

As he approached her, he saw panic in her gaze and wondered if her psychic abilities had allowed her to see what was coming. But as he registered her panic, he suddenly felt Dean back above water and screaming, roaring inside their mind.

Get the fuck away from her! I will rip you apart from the inside! 

Michael chuckled. Come on now, Dean. I know exactly how much you enjoy this body, I’m doing this as much for you as for me.

Michael lifted his hand to run his finger down Y/N’s cheek. She recoiled and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. He did his best impression of Dean, smiling and hoping it looked friendly and not feral. 

“Don’t look away, sweetheart. It’s me. I know you love me, I know you want me. Let me make you feel better.”

He watched her face in fascination; her expressions ran the gamut between horrified, heartbroken, and lustful. But he could practically smell her hope, her need; she was absolutely desperate to pretend the man she loved was there and her tormentor was gone.

Humans really are odd little things. Michael thought.

Dean was still screaming, and then garbling his words beneath the ocean Michael drowned him in. Enough out of you, he thought with a smirk.

Maybe it was the cold smirk that did it, breaking the illusion that he was Dean, or maybe it was Y/N’s abject terror at the idea of what was about to happen. But the very last of her defiance seemed to pulse through her and something in her shifted. He could feel it in the way the hairs on his arms stood up, the way a deep, thrumming buzz began to sound inside his ears.

Y/N’s body began to pulse as well, like waves of energy gearing up. He raised a hand, his eyes glowing blue as he shot his grace towards her. The first beam hit her and stopped her, but she was soon powering up again, and when his grace surged at her a second time, she knocked it away with one of the hands she got free, snapping the chains that held her to the wall.

He pushed grace towards her again, but she wrapped herself in a psychic shield and broke her remaining chains. As he continued to fight, continued to pour grace out of himself and wield it like a sword, he felt Dean surface again. In his mind’s eye he could see him gasping and fighting for the shoreline. Michael tried to force him back under water, but he was using too much of his strength to keep Y/N back. 

And Dean was fighting incredibly hard. 

It was a two-pronged attack, from the inside and outside, and it was not something he’d been expecting. Y/N moved slowly, wrapped in her bubble, towards the bag she’d been traveling with when he caught her. As she reached the backpack, he managed to penetrate the bubble and sent her flying backwards.

Before he could press his advantage, however, Y/N was on her feet again and sending a pulse wave of energy into him, making him stumble backwards. She grabbed the bag quickly and from inside she pulled out a gold, metal, egg-shaped object. He could feel Dean leaving the water as Y/N began to chant in Enochian.

Before she was more than two words in, however, the impossible happened and Michael could feel Dean scream at him.

“Get out!”

His words were powerful enough to defeat Michael in his slightly weakened condition, and the archangel could feel his essence begin to be expelled from the body he’d resided in for almost two months. As he was forced out, he felt another call, another pull, and he looked on in horror as he was inexorably yanked out of Dean’s body right into the tiny space of the egg. 

The egg was tiny, but Michael fell for days, down and down and down, until he landed on a dark, rocky, moldy floor.

He looked around him and sitting across the floor was a human, glowing with the angel inside him. The angel looked very familiar.

The celestial who shared his name chuckled at the strange turn of events. “Welcome to the cage, doppelganger.”

***

Dean felt weak as he fell to the ground, as though he’d been running for days, weeks. No, not running, swimming, fighting against the current.

His muscles were shaking and he felt as though he might puke. Then he saw Y/N curled in a ball on the dirty floor of the cold, abandoned warehouse they were in and he rushed to her. He pulled off the suit jacket he wore and helped her sit up so he could wrap it around her shoulders.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” He said quietly as she shook beneath his hands. 

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes; but under the tears was fear, stark terror, and suspicion.

“Dean?” She asked in a whisper, and he knew she still couldn’t trust that it was him. It hurt his heart to see the fear there; would she always see the sadistic angel looking back at her from now on?

He let go of her and moved away a bit to try and ease her worry. “It’s me, baby, it’s me. I promise. You got Michael, trapped him in that.” He nodded towards the egg. “He’s in the cage.”

Y/N stared at him, but then she shook her head slightly. “No, I didn’t get the spell out, you were already forcing him out. The egg just grabbed him as he was fleeing.” A small smile touched the corners of her lips. “You did it.”

Dean risked coming a bit closer again, reaching out a palm to lay against her cheek, rejoicing when she leaned into his touch. 

He leaned towards her and rested his forehead against hers. “No, we did it. We make a good team.”

A broken cry fell from her mouth as she threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped her tightly in his embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I tried to get out, I tried to get to you, but I couldn’t. I tried and tried, but-”

Y/N cut him off with a kiss. Dean wept into it and didn’t even try to hide it. She tasted his salty tears and pulled back cupping his cheeks in her hands and shaking her head.

“No Dean, please don’t. Don’t put this on you, don’t punish yourself.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, why not? I let him in.”

Y/N brushed away his tears. “Yeah, to save Sam and Jack.” Dean opened his mouth to interrupt her again, but she continued quickly. “And if you punish yourself, you’ll hurt me too.”

Dean looked at her intently and she shook her head slowly. “We’re both safe now. We beat him. Together.”  She inhaled deeply. “Look, take a deep breath. Go on.” She encouraged when he didn’t do it immediately. 

He began to breathe in sync with her, timing his breathing with hers, but visions kept popping into his mind, the things Michael did to her using his hands, and he knew he hadn’t even seen everything; he knew there were things he couldn’t remember from when he'd been deeply submerged.

His breathing faltered and Y/N sighed. “I don’t remember all of it either.” She said; her psychic abilities were incredibly powerful, but he knew she wasn’t reading his mind - she just knew him too well, knew the way his mind worked, even from outside of it.

She cupped his cheeks again so he was looking into her eyes. “Can I show you where I was hiding a lot of the time?”

Dean nodded and she rested her forehead on his; he closed his eyes and let her in. 

There was suddenly a picture in his mind, like a memory, but he knew it wasn’t his. In truth, it wasn’t really a memory but a vision. In the vision he could see the two of them in an old hunter’s cabin; he remembered staying there once, years ago. But they’d simply holed up there for a night after a hunt.

The visions going through his mind had never happened. They were simply Y/N’s imaginings, the place she went in her mind to escape Michael’s torment.

In the vision Y/N and Dean cuddled together in the old bed and he was kissing her tenderly; they were having a food fight in the kitchen which she let him win so that he could lick frosting from her skin; Dean was reading to her and making her laugh by doing silly voices; they were eating pizza and talking animatedly about a hunt.

Then the visions shifted to a Christmas setting and they were sitting beside a big Christmas tree and he had the sense of being surrounded by family and loved ones, all laughing, happy and joyful, just beyond his eyeline.

In the span of a breath, he was suddenly back on the warehouse floor as Y/N broke the connection and pulled back. “I was only here sometimes, I ran away from him, as much as possible, ran far into my mind. And every single safe place in my mind revolved around you.”

He shuddered as she ran her hand soothingly through his hair. His voice was raspy with unshed tears. “I love you - so much.”

She finally let her tears flow free as she kissed him again. “I love you too.”

They clung to each other for a long time, finding their way back to one another and back to the sense of belonging they found in the other’s arms.

Finally Dean pushed himself to his feet and pulled Y/N with him. “Let’s get out of here and find Sam.” Y/N nodded, but before she could turn to get her bag, he pulled her to him for another kiss. 

When he pulled back, his green eyes were shining. “And it’s Christmas in a week. Let’s find that cabin, let’s invite everyone we know, and let’s make that dream a reality. Let’s not wait anymore to be happy.”

Y/N smiled widely and nodded, tears shimmering. “That sounds like a dream.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya @arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world @aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

[xoxoavenger]

I Know Places

pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

summary: they take their shots, but we're bulletproof (I know places) and you know for me, it's always you

word count: 2579

warnings: some blood, this one kinda got away from me my bad

1989 masterlist main masterlist

"Here's the problem I have with keeping us a secret,"

"I don't want to hear it."

"I wasn't finished." Y/N doesn't let Stiles' dramatics get in the way of her venting, because right now she couldn't be more mad at the fact that they were not public as a couple.

"Y/N, please," She's only going to say things that have been repeated on multiple occasions in the seven months they've been dating, and tonight Stiles doesn't have the energy nor the time to get into it.

"No, Stiles!" He looks over at her as he realizes that she's more fed up with this than usual. He puts his eyes back on the road as he lets her go off even though he's heard it seven times this month. "I can't stick up for you! You get angry when I so much as look at you in front of the pack, much less try and argue. I mean fuck, no one is going to suddenly think we're dating because I voice the problem I have with using you as bait." She hasn't even taken a breath, and while Stiles understands her side of the story he's not wavering his position.

"I'm not saying you can't look at me! But nothing you say is going to make Scott or Lydia agree to change their position."

"And what about you?" She asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the door to see him clearly.

"What about me?" Last time he checked they were talking about her feelings. He chances a glance at her which only makes him feel weirdly guilty about something he's sure he has done but can't actually remember doing.

"Nothing I say can change your position?"

Stiles is a smart man. He gets relatively good grades. He makes countless plans that work, figures out who's trying to fuck with them before even the police can. He can argue and persuade for just about anything. So he knows what Y/N is talking about, and he knows that playing dumb will not help his cause.

"You're mad because I volunteered to be bait." The only reason the two of them are in the Jeep on the way to the woods is because Stiles told everyone that he would gladly draw the new alpha pack to him and run to the check point where the rest of the pack would be waiting. The only problem was the time period before they would make it to the pack, where they would just be to far to help if something happened. They had all been arguing about who it should be when he stepped in, causing Y/N to imagine herself breaking his arm just so he wouldn't.

"I don't know why you have some sort of hero complex," She angrily gets out of the car before he's even parked, leaving him to sigh and slam his own door when he gets out. "But what I'm even more confused about is why you're somehow astonished that your girlfriend would be mad at you throwing yourself into the line of fire." She's freezing as soon as they start walking, but she doesn't say it. In order to draw the alphas, they needed couldn't wear a jacket. In December.

"You didn't have to come with me." He grabs her hand anyway, because they're alone and they don't get to walk holding hands very often.

"Are you even listening to me?" She asks quietly, aware that their pack is intently listening to them, ready to jump in when the alphas arrive. "I'm not mad that I'm here with you, I'm mad you volunteered for sudden death." They make it to the agreed spot, cuddled close together as they shiver.

"You're mad because this plan is the worst." He clarifies, and just like that they're back to normal, clearly understanding each other. They don't need to say it to know that they're both able to forget about the details in the face of death.

"It is," She tells him quietly, smiling wide when he leans his back against a tree and lets her lean against his front. "I mean, having to kiss you, make out even," She isn't able to roll her eyes because Stiles is leaning down, hands coming around her waist as he kisses her.

The amazing plan Stiles came up with is for them to pretend to be lovesick teenagers (because why would a couple of twenty-somethings sneak out to kiss) completely oblivious to the pack roaming the woods. And Y/N wanted to kiss Stiles right then and there when he came up with the plan, which made her even more mad about keeping their relationship a secret. They weren't in high school anymore, and Y/N was sure the pack would be able to handle the knowledge that they were dating, but Stiles was worried, didn't want to step on any toes or break the whole 'no dating pack members' rule that had been established when Malia and Scott broke up.

They kiss for a while, and it keeps them warm for a couple minutes. But soon it's too cold and they're chattering as they kiss, and neither of them even wants to kiss anymore. Just as Y/N's about to tell Stiles that she's not sure she can feel her feet, let alone her hands, they hear it.

They both snap toward the sound of a twig breaking, much closer than they were hoping for. The alphas don't even try to hide, instead flashing three pairs of red eyes through the darkness. It doesn't take anything else for Stiles to begin sprinting, grabbing Y/N's hand and pulling her along.

They run toward where the pack is waiting, desperate to be away from danger and somewhere warm. Y/N's thankful for the adrenaline, which masks pain sparking from her legs as she shakes the cold off and follows Stiles. They're almost to the meeting point when a pair of red eyes makes them veer away.

They hadn't expected that they'd be surrounded.

Stiles doesn't waste a second, pulling Y/N away as if they weren't supposed to be going toward anyone at all. She's freaking out, hoping the pack can hear the change in their footsteps and come meet them. She's lagging behind, the cold burning her lungs in a way that she didn't even think was possible. Her ears are shooting pain into her head as the breeze makes it's way through her body. Her hand is slipping from Stiles' and she's about to give up when she feels pain erupt in her leg, which she previously thought was numb.

She lets out a blood curdling scream as she falls to the ground, Stiles turning to see the sight that haunts his nightmares; Y/N is on the ground, blood pouring out of her leg as she tries to claw herself forward. There's an alpha behind her, a man with a sinister look that tells Stiles the alpha wants to do more than just turn his girlfriend. Before Stiles can even think about how to fight the werewolf that is twice his size, Scott is roaring and tearing at the Alpha's chest, taking him by surprise.

"Run!" He yells at Stiles and Y/N, going back to fighting. Everyone is there within seconds, fighting off the alphas and clearing the path for the couple.

Except Y/N can't run.

She can't stay quiet either, letting out grunts and moans and whimpers with every step. She leans heavily on Stiles, but he's only human. He knows they're surrounded, knows there's not many options for them. It's do or die, and he is not letting his girlfriend die because he just had to be the bait.

He pulls her into a thick patch of bushes, out of sight. They crouch, which becomes sitting and Y/N extends her leg to fully see the bite wound she now has. He knows this isn't enough however, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the thought of what he has to do next.

"They will smell your blood," He whispers to her, maneuvering them to be able to hold her, her back against his chest. Her hands go up to his arm and squeeze, as if he wasn't already feeling guilty enough for what he has to do. He only thinks this quickly because of his recurring nightmare of this exact scenario. He's tried many different ways to hide, and through it all this was the only way they weren't found. "I'm so sorry," He puts a hand over her mouth and pulls her into his chest, his other hand grabbing the moist dirt and pushing it against her wound. She screams at the contact, muffled by his hand that she is clawing at. He grabs more dirt, a tear falling down his face as he presses it harder against her leg.

They will still be able to smell the blood, if they're close and really looking, but they won't be able to track it from afar. All he can do is hope that his pack can take care of it so he can get Y/N to Melissa.

"Stiles," She whimpers, trying not to cry as he moves his hand from her mouth. "Oh God, I'm bit, Stiles!" Her voice was getting high with panic, so Stiles grabs her and holds her as close as he can.

"You're going to be okay, it'll be okay." He doesn't believe his own words, but he needs Y/N to believe them. He needs her to stay strong, because he doesn't know what he'll do if her body rejects the bite.

It feels like they're sitting there for hours, Y/N's grip slowly slackening. Stiles tries not to read too much into it, but the dirt he had put on her leg is wet and dark with blood. He can't put more on, knows that by now there's too much blood to be able to dampen and the only thing it'll do now is introduce infection. He can still hear distant roars, and he hopes someone realizes they never left.

"Stiles!" It's Scott, running quickly. He's able to find them in no time, confirming Stiles' thoughts. He's just glad an enemy didn't find them first.

"She's bit," Stiles tells his best friend, who is currently taking in their position. Y/N's head is lolling, sweat pouring out as her body is fighting to stop the bleeding. This bite was deep, deeper than Scott's or Liam's, and it instantly worries Scott.

"We'll get her out," He assures his best friend, realizing that there's a large possibility that Y/N and Stiles are more than friends. He's surprised they were able to hide it for so long, surprised he never picked up on it.

"I had to put dirt on it. I didn't know where they were, or what was going to happen." Stiles is rambling while Scott helps them stand. "I don't even know if it helped but I couldn't just sit here and let them find us." Y/N is groaning and crying out and finally Scott just picks her up, knowing he has to move.

"You did what you could, Stiles." He tells his best friend, the two of them rushing to get back to the Jeep.

"Stiles," Y/N pants, jostling in Scott's arms as they reach the Jeep.

"It'll be fine." It's the only words Stiles knows, apparently. It's all he can think, because he doesn't even want to imagine any other possibility. He lets Scott put Y/N in the back seat and then climbs in after her, which surprises Scott. He's rarely ever been allowed for drive the jeep, and he realizes now that Y/N and Stiles might be closer than he originally thought. The theory that Stiles has been keeping his girlfriend a secret from his best friend makes him upset, but he knows this isn't as important as keeping Y/N alive.

"Here," He's taking off his sweater and handing it to Stiles to hold to her leg. They both know that they're pushing the dirt in and risking infection, but it's worth it to keep her from bleeding out.

"Y/N," Stiles mutters as he pushes her hair back, trying not to notice how pale she's become. "Hey, baby," He smiles when she opens her eyes.

"I'm bit," She tells him once more, her voice scratchy. She takes shaking breathes, eyes locked on her leg. "Oh my God," She's shaking, the fear in her eyes causing Stiles' heart to jump.

"It'll be okay, I promise. I'm right here." He looks down and sees the blood soaking through Scott's jacket, which makes him uneasy.

"I didn't want this," She cries, causing Scott to squeeze eyes shut.

"I know, I know," Stiles pushes some of her hair off her forehead.

When they get to the hospital, Melissa is waiting outside. She's clearly nervous as Scott gets her out, looking around as they get Y/N on a gurney and rush her in, trying not to be seen by others.

"What happened?" Melissa asks, getting Y/N hooked up to machines. When Stiles pulls the jacket away, she gasps.

"I was bit," Y/N's a little out of it, which worries Stiles. Her blinks are slow.

"Why isn't she healing?" Melissa grabs things she needs to clean and suture the wound.

"We don't know." Stiles answers, gagging as Melissa begins cleaning the blood away.

"We need to get this wound closed, because I can do a lot of things for you guys but I cannot steal blood." She takes a deep breath as she looks at her tools. "I can't steal any drugs to numb your pain either." She's very positive Y/N will pass out before she gets too far into it anyway. 

"I can help." Scott puts a hand on Y/N's leg. Melissa nods before beginning her stitches. Y/N doesn't even have the chance to feel the pain because Scott is already taking it, veins darkening as he breathes deeply to not show how much it hurts. Y/N wishes she could thank him, but everything is heavy. 

"Her eyes are closing." Stiles is freaking out only slightly. He moves closer to her head, trying not to look at the mess that was her leg.

"Try to keep her awake." Melissa instructs. It's the last thing Y/N hears before she gives herself up to the darkness.

~

"Why didn't you tell us?" Y/N hears Malia ask through some fog.

"We were worried you guys would get all weird." Stiles answers.

"What does that even mean?" Lydia asks, and Y/N tries to force her eyes open. She can't quite do it.

"You guys always get strange when two people in the pack start dating! And no offense, but it was so awkward when Malia and Scott broke up. We didn't want to go through that again." She's finally able to open her eyes.

"For the record," She starts, voice scratchy with misuse. "Our last argument was about the fact that I didn't want to hide it." She starts coughing, and everyone is at her side, asking a million questions. She doesn't pay attention to anyone else, only watching her boyfriend's face as he realizes that she's awake and okay. 

"Oh my God." Stiles is holding her close, tears in her eyes that make her emotional.

"I'm okay," She whispers, still weak but squeezing Stiles with all her might. "I'd never leave you." It breaks the dam and Stiles begins crying into her, knee up on the bed to steady himself.

"I'd never let you." 

//

tags: @tbsimp @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @mcueveryday

[severus-snaps]

Snape in the eyes of Pureblood Supremacists in Slytherin

Back at it again because I've had more thoughts following 'Mudblood' and Muggle-borns on Snape's youth and time in school (I started this what feels like so long ago, got overinvested, lost steam, and then just abandoned it - but might as well put it out there since I've made it Lengthy now. Welcome to part two of my half-baked metas, as it were).

A lengthy mixture of me projecting about Snape's early attitudes to blood supremacy and upbringing; the timeline of Snape's school years and the War; Snape's appearance and first impressions to his housemates (and others); Slytherin 'friendships' through the lens of what we see in the books from Harry's generation, and Snape's alluded-to 'friendships' with Lucius and the 'gang of Slytherins'; and the role of blood purity in Slytherin.

In A War Context

Going back in time for a moment, starting from the fateful night where the series begins:

31 October, 1981 Voldemort is vanquished. This is the same night that one-year-old Harry was sent to live with the Dursleys. We also see Snape crying in Dumbledore's office that night, in Snape's memories.

September 1981 Snape started teaching probably a month before that, age 21 (14 years prior to Umbridge's inquiries in the starting term of 1995).

Late Autumn/Winter 1980 (to early winter 1981) Snape turned spy when Voldemort decided the Prophecy applied to the Potter family. Scene on the 'windy hilltop' probably followed ver shortly after Snape finding out.

31 July 1980 Harry is born.

Autumn/Winter 1979 Snape overhears part of the prophecy and relays it to Voldemort.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..."

[Note: I've made some assumptions. Trelawney tells Umbridge in September 1995 that she started work at Hogwarts "nearly sixteen years" ago. Hogwarts traditionally follows a British school calendar, with terms starting in September (autumn term) and January (spring term). Assuming she starts in time for a new term, if she started in the autumn (September 1979), and assuming the interview was some time before her appointment in time for a new term, her interview might have taken place in the summer of 1979, around June, July, or August - but she probably would've just said "sixteen years" instead of "nearly", so... If she started in the spring term (January 1980): Her interview could have been held in late 1979, possibly around November or December 1979, assuming that the intervew was held a short but reasonable amount of time before she took the role, and perhaps during the holidays. Seeing as JKR likes Halloween (aka All Hallows' Evening) as a date, she may well have delivered the prophecy on Halloween - and possibly the literal moment Harry was conceived. What a thought.]

However, I'm just as bad (if not worse) as JKR with numbers and dates, so please do correct me if this is total nonsense.

31 October 1979 Harry is possibly conceived, assuming a perfect 9 month pregnancy.

1979 Regulus Black dies. There's a flimsy bit of evidence to suggest Snape was Marked/started working for Voldemort in summer 1979 (imagine if it was Harry's future birthday lol) but really it could've been author error, putting Snape's joining the DEs (to my mind) any time from the aftermath of SWM onwards - but what use would Voldemort have for Snape when he's in school for another few years under Dumbledore's watchful eye, and has no money, information, or connections yet? (Unlike Regulus, who had a well-known, affluent Pureblood family, and the ability to use magic/research the Dark Arts at home as well as at school - this is, of course, assuming that Snape can't use magic freely at home because his father doesn't like magic or anything, much).

June 1978 Snape graduates from & leaves Hogwarts. "By the time [the Marauders] left school, Lord Voldemort’s ascendancy was almost complete. True resistance to him was concentrated in the underground organisation called the Order of the Phoenix..." [X]

1977/1978 Regulus Black joins the Death Eaters.

June 1976 "Snape's Worst Memory". Snape & Lily's friendship ends. Fear of Voldemort is already so ingrained that people won't use his name; Lily calls him "You-Know-Who". His followers are also widely known to be called "Death Eaters" by this time.

Early 1976 (approx.) The Prank. Shortly after, Lily 'accuses' Snape of hanging out with Mulciber and Avery. [Neither of these friends - nor any members of the 'gang' Sirius mentioned Snape belonging to - seem to want to hang out after exams or protect him from being hunted for sport during SWM (June 1976; during OWLS), nor are they ever mentioned to retaliate by a Marauder, so perhaps that 'gang' membership came later (c. 1978 in Snape's 7th year). Alternatively they were all already friends, but I'll go into more depth into the flimsiness of Slytherin friendships later. Just from info from the book text, it would be reasonable to assume the 'gang' attended school all at the same time - but Bellatrix was mentioned among them, by her married surname, and her generally given date of birth from wherever that sort of information comes from (seriously, I can't find a source that isn't the wiki) suggests that that she'd be too old to attend school with Snape - so who knows where Sirius got that from. There's also the fact that Sirius introduces Bellatrix as a Lestrange in the 'gang' context and not a Black, which suggests that she's already left school and married at a young age by the time Snape is in the gang. 'Early' marriage is normal for wizarding society after all - or perhaps it simply means that Sirius didn't want to associate her with his surname.]

Autumn 1975 - Summer 1976 Marauders 'finally managed' their Animagus transformations in their fifth year. [This had certainly happened by Summer 1976/SWM, as they had their nicknames by then, derived from their Animagi forms and Sirius wants it to be a full moon so they can run around.

As for whether the Marauders managed their transformations prior to the Prank, I've seen arguments saying that it is likely to have happened prior to the Prank, otherwise Sirius wouldn't know about the knot or how to slip past the Willow, and that Snape was "trying to find out what we were up to" which implies they were collectively up to something like becoming Animagi or running around, and in Snape's memories he says "they" sneak out at night, not just that there's something weird about Lupin.

On the flip side, perhaps it isn't likely they were Animagi by the Prank - otherwise it wouldn't have been a risk to James' life, since he could transform and be safe. (Of course, maybe James also couldn't transform in front of Snape without getting outed to Dumbledore and potentially getting all of them arrested and expelled or whatever, so it was a risk either way).]

Summer 1972 (approx) Lucius graduates. In the year(s) prior to this, Snape has presumably built some sort of friendship with him (enough for Snape to be considered Lucius' "lapdog"), which I'll go into later. If Lucius was a Prefect when Snape started, he'd have graduated from Hogwarts around the year of 1972/1973, after Snape's second year. Within seven years, by 1980, he was high-ranking and trusted enough by Voldemort to keep the diary Horcrux - (to open the Chamber, which, I assume, would destabilise the school to the extent that if Voldemort hadn't died, he'd have used it to take the school in the first war).

September 1971 Snape and Lily started at Hogwarts, aged 11. Lucius welcomes Snape to Slytherin. Voldemort "started looking for followers" around this time, and became more public in his agenda; at the time of Voldemort's death, the wizarding world had had "precious little to celebrate" for the past 11 years - and Voldemort had spent a few years even before that skulking about in the shadows, probably recruiting dark creatures and engaging in dark magic.

So, onto the show.

Pre-Hogwarts

Aged 11 (and probably for some time before that) Snape excitedly and somewhat naively hopes that he and Muggle-born Lily will be in Slytherin together. We can only speculate why Snape wants to be in Slytherin - perhaps because his mother was, since it tends to run in families. Maybe he's read somewhere that Merlin was a Slytherin and he has ambitions to be the next most powerful wizard of a generation (certainly seems to fit the Dark Arts interest, his experimenting, his disdain for reciting answers straight from the books, and his knowledge of curses/magic and wizarding society even before he attends Hogwarts). Maybe in line with that he's read about the Houses and thinks of himself and/or Lily as cunning and ambitious (he certainly thinks of them as "brainy", though he still didn't want to be in Ravenclaw, for example). Maybe it's mostly about 'rising' from his current situation, and he values the ambition to get there. In short, we have no idea what drew him to that House - but I doubt it's some desire at the age of nine to join a pureblood supremacist cult or to celebrate blood purity.

Snape's pause is often used by antis as a sort of gotcha for Snape already harbours blood supremacist views (as much as a child can 'harbour' anything; nature and nurture and all that. He'd have to have been taught). He's then spent two years getting to know Lily, seeing her (advanced) control of wandless magic and possibly training his own, and she's his only friend. He knows how talented she is; he can tell that being Muggle-born has no bearing on skill ("You have loads of magic"), and also likely knows from himself that being part-Muggle also does not influence skills. To my mind, Snape's hesitation when Lily asks if it makes a difference being Muggle-born suggests he might be aware of supremacist attitudes, but not necessarily that he believes them. I can believe that he'd dislike Muggles, but I doubt somehow that nine-year-old Snape, raised in a Muggle town, and his best friend the Muggle-born would've had too deep an understanding of the true extent of blood supremacy and how it could affect them, otherwise he probably wouldn't be suggesting she join Slytherin. Lily may be Muggle-born, but he's (at least) half Muggle himself, lives in the same place, isolated from wizarding society in almost the same way that most wizards are from Muggle society. As Draco might say, he's "never been brought up to know our ways."

But then, something is also going on with Eileen, which is why a witch is stuck in a less-than-stellar marriage with a Muggle who doesn't like magic, and living in poverty or distress severe enough to neglect her child - so Snape might know from being on the end of discriminatory attitudes himself, rather than simply holding them. Perhaps he'd seen his mother shunned as a blood traitor (after all, he's wearing his mother's clothes - where are the rest of the family? aunts/uncles/cousins? family friends?).

Eileen might be half-blood or Muggleborn herself, which is how she came to marry a Muggle. What we do know is that a pureblood supremacist witch would outright reject associating with Muggles or even visiting an area where Muggles frequented, much less forming a relationship, marrying, having a child, and living with one (Bellatrix even thinks that she and Narcissa must be the 'first of their kind' to visit Spinner's End). Maybe Eileen was from a dying-out Pureblood family like the Gaunts, viewing a Muggle man as an escape from something worse only for it to not work out... but even then, she'd still have liked a Muggle enough to abandon her family for one, which is more tolerance than you'd get from Bellatrix, for example. And even tolerant Purebloods don't really mix with Muggles; they just don't have enough shared understanding, and don't seem to know how the world would function without magic.

I'm personally very fond of the idea that Eileen might herself have been half-blood or Muggle-born - Hermione finds the name 'Prince' difficult to find in the school records, and they're obviously not a well-known family since Lupin says "there are no wizarding princes" - and he might have remembered if they were a family on a level with, say, the Malfoys, at any point in recent memory, and it seems unlike Hermione to not remember a name as easily memorable as Prince if she'd read about it somewhere. There's a whole host of options that perhaps Eileen's ancestors kept producing daughters and so the male name/line went extinct (as discussed with relation to the Peverells in the later books), but to me, 'first generation' (half and half) half-bloods, and Muggleborns, are the most likely to associate with Muggles in the first place - since wizarding society (with a few notable exceptions) tends exist fairly isolated from Muggles. Even Tonks - daughter of a Muggleborn man - seems to treat Muggles like some distant and foreign concept:

“Very clean, aren’t they, these Muggles?” said the witch called Tonks, who was looking around the kitchen with great interest. “My dad’s Muggle-born and he’s a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?”

Overall, Pureblood/Wizarding supremacist attitudes are commonplace in wizarding society, and take many, many forms - from a total lack of knowledge, to fascination, to disinterest and low-key derision of Muggles; from Slughorn's amused and impressed response to Hermione being skilled for a Muggle-born to Draco's frequent slurs; and Grindelwald/Voldemort's whole 'subjugate them all' deal to Harry's "they're just people, I guess??".

Snape could have been anywhere on that spectrum. In short, neither Snape, nor the wizarding world at large, know how much of a difference being Muggle-born was about to make.

First Impressions

This section is largely speculative, so be warned. I like to think it adds context.

When we're first introduced to Snape, and as his story unfolds, we get rather frequent descriptors of his appearance - more frequent than most characters.

The first description of Snape is "a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin". But the younger Snape had a "stringy, pallid look", being "round-shouldered yet angular" and with a "twitchy walk that recalled a spider", as well as "long oily hair that jumped about his face". Snape, when not in his robes, wears "clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate: too short jeans, a shabby, overlarge coat that might have belonged to a grown man, an odd smocklike shirt" that might have been his "mother's blouse". At various points, we're told over and over that he has "yellow teeth", an "overlarge nose", and "greasy" hair. As a kid, Sirius describes him as "slimy, oily, [and] greasy-haired". On the Marauders map, "Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball"; an ugly git; and an idiot; and even on the train during their first meeting, James decided that Sirius was "alright" for a potential Slytherin but Snape wasn't, and that Snape was neither brawny nor brainy.

In terms of Snape's experience at school, he was already in for a tough time for the crime of looking a bit weird. But more than that, Muggles and Muggle-borns are clearly and repeatedly described by Pureblood supremacists as common, filthy, dirty, disgusting, and foul - which is just how people might see Snape.

Gaunt describes Merope as a "dirty Squib", "disgusting little Squib" and a "filthy little blood traitor" (and she's a Pureblood witch, albeit struggling with her powers); and in CoS of course Voldemort calls his father "a foul, common Muggle". We also see throughout the books "Mudblood filth", and "filthy little Mudblood" in particular reference to Muggle-borns such as Hermione and Lily (and to Bob Ogden, who is not Muggle-born). Bellatrix describes Harry as a "filthy half-blood" and when Alecto Carrow teaches Muggle Studies during the events of DH, she teaches that "Muggles are like animals, stupid and dirty".

Obviously, descriptions of Muggle-borns and Muggles aren't necessarily rooted in physical appearance - Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt are Purebloods, as are the Carrows and Crabbe and Goyle, and none of them are described as being lookers, exactly, or well-groomed. They mean it in terms of blood being dirty. But greasy and poorly cut hair, improperly fitting clothes, the difference between someone like James who was "slight, black-haired like Snape, but with that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for, even adored, that Snape so conspicuously lacked" - all of these would be just another marker of Snape's poverty, neglect, and 'common-ness' to add to the fact that he was a Half-Blood/half a Muggle, and had a Muggle-born best friend in a House that didn't just accept or ignore these things, but actively scorned them. By comparison, privileged and powerful Purebloods like Draco, Lucius, Bellatrix, Narcissa, Sirius, and James are described (Draco as a child/young adult, the others in adulthood) as more handsome or noble-looking, or in other ways that denoted their relative attractiveness as a shorthand for 'good breeding'.

And obviusly, whilst Pureblood James & Co. would never call anyone a Mudblood:

“Apologize to Evans!” James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him. “I don’t want you to make him apologize,” Lily shouted, rounding on James. “You’re as bad as he is…” “What?” yelped James. “I’d NEVER call you a — you-know-what!”

...they would suspend a poor, ugly, slimy nobody upside-down and (threaten to, or actually) remove their underwear in front of a crowd just because "he exists" - just like the Death Eaters do to the Muggle woman, Mrs Roberts, at the Quidditch World Cup (and probably other Muggles). Voldemort calls this behaviour "a spot of Muggle-torture".

Similarly, Draco et al.'s comment on Hermione's teeth ("the long-molared Mudblood") [See here for another meta on Snape's comment on Hermione's teeth], and on Lupin's clothes, and just a general knowledge of how teenagers and people are, show that they're not above making physical taunts that could just as easily apply to a young Snape, mocking Hagrid's "d'you call this a house?", calling him an oaf; the Weasley's "hovel" of a home, and Lupin's clothes:

“Look at the state of his robes,” Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. “He dresses like our old house-elf.”

Snape would also, when not in robes, have been wearing the mismatched and odd clothing likely to have been mocked in the same way by a family affluent enough to own a house-elf, and god forbid anyone Snape went to school with find out that he lives in a "Muggle dunghill".

Snape was undoubtedly used to this sort of thing from his time in Cokeworth (looking at you, Petunia), which was why he changed his robes so quickly on the train. As a child and teenager, Snape’s physical appearance - marked by greasy hair, mismatched clothing, and an overall unkempt demeanour - likely exacerbated his social isolation (seen as a child lurking to make a friend) and fueled the mockery he likely endured both at home and at Hogwarts - after all, Petunia also mocked Snape's appearance, as well as the Marauders and Harry.

I think there's also a comparison here, if tenuous:

“Want one, Granger?” said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. “I’ve got loads. But don’t touch my hand, now. I’ve just washed it, you see; don’t want a Mudblood sliming it up.” “I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,” said Sirius viciously. “There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.”

More than many other characters I can think of (perhaps besides Umbridge the Toad - and Sirius' dog descriptors, owing to his Animagus form), Snape is also most often compared to, or described in a way that provokes imagery of, animals. Snape is described on more than one occasion as an 'overgrown bat'; his nose is described as a "beaklike protuberance"; and once he is described as a lapdog. He snarls perhaps more than any other single character in the series [snarl: (of an animal such as a dog) make an aggressive growl with bared teeth]; Snape yelps; he roars; he howls; he bares his teeth; and my personal favourite, when he's described as "demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog".

Of course, when animalistic descriptors like these are applied to people Harry likes - such as Sirius barking with laughter - they come across as more illustrative and amusing than insulting, and even where Sirius is described in a less flattering light as "very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit", Sirius is still the one with the power, a hunter, and Snape is his prey. But that's decidedly the case with Snape - such descriptors are entirely used to be insulting and invoke specific negative imagery that paints him as out of control of himself and/or needlessly melodramatic, even when he is correct (e.g. Harry did help Sirius escape; Harry and Ron did break the law in CoS; Lupin did know more about Sirius getting into the castle than he was letting on; James really was that bad).

As readers we can recognise that Snape becomes agitated and enraged when distressed, triggered, or losing control of a situation, and when he is correct but not believed or trusted - but as anyone knows in a school setting, letting people see they're getting to you just leaves you open to further ridicule. It was this very 'overreaction' that James and Sirius especially liked to get out of Snape, and Peter liked to watch, which we see in SWM.

Here is also a section which illustrates all of these things; Snape is not only animalistic here, but we are reminded that he has a large nose again, he is ugly and unpleasant, melodramatic but not to be taken seriously despite being correct, and Harry/JKR/the narrative wants us to know it:

“Potter!” Snape snarled, and he actually turned his head and stared right at the place where Harry was, as though he could suddenly see him. “That egg is Potter’s egg. That piece of parchment belongs to Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here! Potter, in his Invisibility Cloak!” Snape stretched out his hands like a blind man and began to move up the stairs; Harry could have sworn his over-large nostrils were dilating, trying to sniff Harry out...

In a real and fictional world (exacerbated by a Harry-centric narrative) where physical appearance and likeability is often seen as a shorthand for worth, goodness, or social standing, Snape's perceived lack of these things, combined with his half-blood status, friendship with a Muggleborn, and general demeanour, rendered him an easy target for mockery and othering - both within his own House, and from others like the Marauders - and would only serve to strengthen the association between Snape, his Muggle heritage, and common, dirty, animalistic Muggles in the eyes of pureblood supremacists/future Death Eater Slytherins.

With friends like these...

So what would entering Slytherin look like for a young Snape? He's spent the first eleven years of his life waiting for the moment he can leave Spinner's End, escape his father, and finally go to Hogwarts. And now he's here! A far cry from the less-than-friendly welcome he received on the train from James and Sirius, where he was insulted and tripped in a classic dickhead schoolboy fashion, Snape is warmly welcomed into Slytherin:

And Severus Snape moved off to the other side of the Hall, away from Lily, to where the Slytherins were cheering him, to where Lucius Malfoy, a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest, patted Snape on the back as he sat down beside him. …

I imagine that felt amazing to a young Snape after years of a challenging home life, dreams of escape, hopes of a welcome - after his father didn't like anything, presumably including him, or magic; after Petunia mocked his clothes and he seemingly had not made any other friends beside Lily. He's finally in uniform, the same as everyone else. A fresh start. Cheers as he approached from a whole table full of people. A literal pat on the back. He must have been having the best night of his life in that moment...

But setting that aside for a moment, I'm going to take a closer look at some of the Slytherin friendships that we do see. They're hardly loyal, warm, and close like the Trio, or even arguably the Marauders; nor does being a (fellow) Pureblood, or a fellow Death Eater, necessarily even grant you respect.

We see it often with Draco's so-called "best friends" (per Hermione in CoS), Crabbe and Goyle. They're not even on a first-name basis.

More often than not, Crabbe and Goyle are positioned to follow Draco, to be a receptive audience to Draco's jokes, and to act as his "cronies" or "bodyguards" - rather than his actual friends:

“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” said the pale boy carelessly (PS) “You know I haven’t, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?” snapped Malfoy. (CoS) Crabbe and Goyle looked at [Draco Malfoy] for instructions, thoroughly bewildered (PoA) Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared (GoF) Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically (GoF) Crabbe and Goyle lumbering in [Draco's] wake (OotP) Behind [Montague] lurked Crabbe and Goyle ... Malfoy stood to one side (OotP) Draco Malfoy had slid out from behind the door, followed by Crabbe and Goyle (OotP)

They start to drift apart by HBP, after Lucius' fall from grace within the Death Eaters and the setting of Draco's task. Crabbe and Goyle aren't in on Draco's plans despite all of their parents being DEs; there's a sense of dissent; and they even start to talk back:

Crabbe and Goyle were gawping at Malfoy; apparently they had had no inkling of any plans to move on to bigger and better things (HBP) "... if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle — ” “They’re not the only ones, I’ve got other people on my side, better people!” (HBP) Crabbe opened his mouth, but Malfoy appeared to second-guess what he was going to say. “Look, it’s none of your business what I’m doing, Crabbe, you and Goyle just do as you’re told and keep a lookout!” (HBP) [Harry] skidded to a halt and turned around. Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him, shoulder to shoulder, wands pointing right at Harry. Through the small space between their leering faces he saw Draco Malfoy. “That’s my wand you’re holding, Potter,” said Malfoy, pointing his own through the gap between Crabbe and Goyle. (using them as human shields? - DH) “Potter came in here to get it,” said Malfoy with ill-disguised impatience at the slow-wittedness of his colleagues, “so that must mean — ” “ ‘Must mean?” Crabbe turned on Malfoy with undisguised ferocity. “Who cares what you think? I don’t take your orders no more, Draco. You an’ your dad are finished.” (despite this being one of their last encounters, Draco does appear upset by his death - DH)

[Also worth noting from the other meta I linked: "The power of the “Malfoy” name was the reason Crabbe kept Draco company. Now that that power is gone, he’s just some guy called “Draco”, so Crabbe drops him."]

And even on the train, where Harry is concealed beneath his cloak (OotP), doesn't feel especially warm, and everyone seems almost indifferent to one another (the scene is rather too long to quote here for the sake of an example, but I did stumble across this which was interesting). There's an element of tallying 'successes' or listing others' faults (such as the Weasleys being blood traitors, Harry being 'the Chosen one', Neville being... well, Neville, and whether Slughorn had gone senile). But fortunately I've also found another meta that goes into this in more detail; these people hang out together, but don't really come across as friends. Draco doesn't even tell Pansy his plans, and she's been on his arm for some time now; she seems surprised, and almost hurt, that she hasn't been told - but Draco doesn't really seem to care.

[Unrelated side note: I also think it's interesting that Zabini speaks "scathingly" about Draco's father, was invited to Slughorn's party (so has no known Death Easter connections), and is also an enthusiastic blood purist. (We also find out that his mother's seven ex-husbands died, so... maybe some of them were? Idk. It's just interesting that people would reject/be critical of DEs in that climate but still be a blood purist).]

Protected by their Pureblood status (I'll touch on that later, but have covered it in the first meta), Crabbe and Goyle cannot be targeted or treated the same way as Muggle-borns and Muggles; but that doesn't mean they get treated with respect. Draco may have liked Crabbe and Goyle, at least enough to be worried about whether or not they lived or died (although even that 'friendship'/comraderie evidently soured with the war despite being on the same side, because of Lucius' fall from grace with Voldemort) - but mostly he ordered them around. And they were content to follow, but started to dissent when Lucius (and Draco) are no longer the most powerful voices:

Who cares what you think? I don’t take your orders no more, Draco. You an’ your dad are finished.

We're also seeing these friendships under strain of a building war in which certain people are being recruited as Death Eaters where others aren't, and a majority of their parents are possibly (or certainly) already involved with Voldemort and/or his ideology; a perfectly reasonable parallel to Snape's own situation when he was in school.

But we're also often seeing these friendships not only through the lens of Harry, but in front of Harry, who acts as their sort of nemesis. It's perfectly possible that these friendships were warm and friendly and they enjoyed one another's company in the privacy of the Slytherin common room - but even in the scene in the common room (CoS), Draco does not seem to be impressed with their conversational skills, but still takes their blind acceptance of his leadership/sycophantic behaviour:

Far too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh, but Malfoy seemed satisfied; perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake.

My interpretation is that Slytherin friendships are more representative of the social circles of politicians or high society. You may be civil, friendly, and even end up real friends - but as soon as being friends with someone someone stops serving you, or damages your social standing, you’d turn on them to avoid any blowback. Friendships may exist but loyalty to a person isn't really part of it; there's an element of loyalty being to whoever has the most power in the room, be that from a combination of intellect, blood status, reputation, accomplishments, more powerful friends, or money.

Obviously, Snape is not entirely analagous to Crabbe or Goyle - being depicted as intelligent and curious and more outspoken, for starters - but also lacking those family connections, money, upbringing, or blood status. His only hopes were to build connections with more powerful people, and his intellect - especially since he's hardly described as having the size for physical intimidation or brawls. He was likely good at hexing people - I doubt he made all of those new spells just for fun - but JKR makes a point of telling us that it's James who hexes people for the fun of it, and showing us that Snape acts in retaliation ("Give me a reason").

And so Snape became, ultimately, a follower to more powerful people. We see Lucius in Snape's memories extending the metaphorical hand of friendship the moment that Snape is Sorted. Lucius is a Prefect, however, and several years older; no older teen wants to regularly hang out with an 11-year-old. And yet in adulthood Snape is described as "Lucius’s old friend"; Lucius "speaks most highly" of Snape to Umbridge; and Draco seems to like Snape already as a teacher, and even suggests him for headmaster in CoS, when "The appointment — or suspension — of the headmaster is a matter for the governors" - including Lucius:

“Sir,” said Malfoy loudly. “Sir, why don’t you apply for the headmaster’s job?” “Now, now, Malfoy,” said Snape, though he couldn’t suppress a thin-lipped smile. “Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he’ll be back with us soon enough.” “Yeah, right,” said Malfoy, smirking. “I expect you’d have Father’s vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job — I’ll tell Father you’re the best teacher here, sir —”

Perhaps Lucius, for the few years' overlap where Snape was in school and Lucius was Prefect, may have befriended Snape. But in a House where pecking order, prestige, and blood status play a role as well as age, this isn't certain. Far from being 'friends' in the traditional sense, Snape is once described as Lucius' "lapdog" (a small pampered pet dog; a person or organization that is influenced or controlled by another). Other metas and essays have pointed out may refer to a relationship like the Ancient Roman tradition of patronage:

Patronage (clientela) was the distinctive relationship in ancient Roman society between the patronus ('patron') and their cliens ('client'). The relationship was hierarchical, but obligations were mutual. The patron was the protector, sponsor, and benefactor of the client; the technical term for this protection was patrocinium. Although typically the client was of inferior social class, a patron and client might even hold the same social rank, but the former would possess greater wealth, power, or prestige that enabled him to help or do favors for the client.

Or, more worryingly, to 'fagging', which features in some older boarding school stories and may have been referenced, intentionally or not, by JKR:

Fagging was a traditional practice in British public schools and also at many other boarding schools, whereby younger pupils were required to act as personal servants to the eldest boys. Although probably originating earlier, the first accounts of fagging appeared in the late 17th century.  Fagging sometimes involved physical abuse  and/or sexual abuse. Fagging originated as a structure for maintaining order in boarding schools. Fagging carried with it well-defined rights and duties on both sides. The senior, sometimes called the fag-master, was the protector of his fags and responsible for their happiness and good conduct. In case of any problem outside the classroom, such as bullying or injustice, a junior boy's recourse was to him, not to a form master or housemaster, and, except in the gravest cases, all incidents were dealt with by the fag-master on his own responsibility. The duties undertaken by fags ... would include such humble tasks as blacking boots, brushing clothes, and cooking breakfasts, and there was no limit as to hours the fag would be expected to work. Later, fagging was restricted to such tasks as running errands and bringing tea to the fag-master's study.

I think it's more feasible that Snape was Lucius' "fag", or at the very least his errand-boy; it may well have developed into more of a patron/client style relationship in later years, post-Hogwarts, especially with Severus and Lucius both connected to the school (until Lucius was removed from the Board of Governors), and supporting one another in proposals/managing Slytherin house/Draco - and prior to that, working together with Severus reporting to Lucius under Voldemort.

In any case, Sirius calling Snape a "lapdog" implies that in some capacity Snape was influenced or controlled by Lucius in school. I say in school, because Sirius didn't even initially know that Snape was a DE, or that Snape was working at Hogwarts - suggesting that this insult was in reference to Snape's early years at school, before Lucius graduated.

Either option (fagging or patron/client) functionally makes Snape little more than Lucius' own personal house-elf, although perhaps he would've treated Snape better than a house-elf - despite his blood status and younger age, he was still a wizard. (And Draco does once say "this is servant stuff", possibly suggesting they also have servants/staff as well as a house elf; Voldemort's supporters are also called servants. Lucius was likely getting Snape 'trained'/grooming him). And of course there's Dumbledore's line to Voldemort feels particularly reminiscent of the type of relationship I'm imagining between Snape and Lucius:

“I am glad to hear that you consider them friends,” said Dumbledore. “I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants.”

I'm firmly of the belief that it became more of a reciprocal patron/client relationship after school, rather than during; if Lucius had been 'polishing' Snape so that he appeared less... Snape, he didn't do well. Snape is 'clearly unpopular' and still 'greasy' as an older teen, and also Lucius and Snape's school years didn't substantially overlap.

This also ties into something I read somewhere (and please, god, if someone can find it I'd love to read it again) where it was argued that Snape appears to be well-spoken/polished enough for Bellatrix to be surprised (and disgusted) when she sees Spinner's End - as though she had no idea that Snape was from somewhere as run down as that. (She did, however, know that he wasn't Pureblood - she reckons that she and Narcissa must be the "first of their kind" to step foot in Spinner's End. To me, this also suggests further that Snape's mother wasn't Pureblood, because Bellatrix of all people would know the Prince name if she had been, and Snape may have raised it as 'evidence' for his 'worthiness').

Anyway, perhaps Lucius would've helped Snape go from the sometimes brash, stuttering teen to the (largely) soft-spoken, sharp-tongued adult - before he's introduced to the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Introducing a Snape who seems "common" or "lowborn" wouldn't have done Lucius any favours, but we can expect that Snape would otherwise have been considered useful; something I noticed on a recent reread is that Lucius was in posession of some poisons he thought might get him in trouble during the raids in CoS:

“You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids,” said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. “I have a few — ah — items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call … and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear — ”

I like to imagine that Snape was the one who brewed them for Lucius since he's the character most often associated with poison.

Still, given the snootiness of the Malfoys, it is interesting that Lucius 'befriended' or otherwise used, groomed, or recruited Snape in the first place - and that other Pureblood Death Eaters just accepted it.

(Pure)Blood Is Thicker Than Water

I think we can assume that Lucius and Draco shared roughly the same views in school; Draco learnt it all somewhere, Lucius was in the same position of privilege and power in his school days, coming from a Pureblood family, and from what we can see of Slytherins of that generation, Regulus Black and his parents shared the view that Voldemort had the 'right idea', which apparently many Pureblood families did. These views aren't anything new; we can see that with Marvolo Gaunt. Voldemort just harnessed them, and he's probably been doing it since he was in school (with a Lestrange and an Avery in Slughorn's memory).

The Malfoys prided themselves on being purebloods; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent ... second-class. (GoF)

Although the above quote is Harry's perspective, he's probably not wrong about the Malfoys' view on Muggle heritage. This is slightly complicated by writing from JK:

From the imposition of the Statute of Secrecy onwards, no Malfoy has married a Muggle or Muggle-born. The family has, however, eschewed the somewhat dangerous practice of inter-marrying within such a small pool of pure-bloods that they become enfeebled or unstable, unlike a small minority of fanatic families such as the Gaunts and Lestranges, and many a half-blood appears on the Malfoy family tree. [X]

Given the near-meaninglessness of 'half-blood', it's open to interpretation whether the Malfoys would allow someone with one Muggle parent, for example, to marry into the family; more likely they allow 'second generation' half-bloods or more, with some Muggle(born) ancestry but slightly removed by a generation or more. (Does this also mean the Malfoys are technically half-blood? The entire system is more political than scientific, but I expect they are 'technically' half-blood to stricter purists. Marvolo Gaunt would certainly think so: "Generations of purebloods, wizards all — more than you can say, I don’t doubt!")

But the attitude is what matters here.

Families like the Blacks, for instance, seem to have been more strict:

"If you’re only going to let your sons and daughters marry purebloods your choice is very limited, there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage and Arthur’s something like my second cousin once removed. But there’s no point looking for them on here — if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it’s the Weasleys." "While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon [Grimmauld] place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

Walburga Black's portrait screams at everyone in the Order that they're Mudbloods, half-breeds, and scum - and the Order consists of Pureblood blood traitors, Half-bloods with two magical parents (good enough, perhaps, for the Malfoys - but not for the Blacks or Lestranges), and (one) Muggle-born. Of course, discrimination in familial marriage requirements and property owenership don't necessarily translate to how you'd treat people on a day-to-day basis, but the biases obviously inform it. Lucius, when trying to appear moderate in front of Fudge, is less openly hostile to the blood traitor Weasley family, for example.

But at Hogwarts, the teens and tweens are left unattended in their Common Rooms, free to be as cruel as teens and tweens can be without a guiding hand. In CoS, Draco is comfortable enough in the Common Room to discuss his family's illicit goings-on, brag about the fact that Lucius has additional knowledge about Voldemort's involvement in the Chamber opening last time, to say 'Mudblood' with careless abandon, and that he wishes Hermione dead, all in one breath:

“And Father won’t tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it’ll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing — last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it’s a matter of time before one of them’s killed this time. ... I hope it’s Granger,” he said with relish. (CoS)

The Slytherin Common Room password, during a major event in which several students have already been Petrified by the Heir of Slytherin's monster, and messages left on the wall in blood, Draco manages to say "Mudblood" no less than 6 times in 3 pages - imagine how much it's being said in general, not just by Draco in the hour that Harry and Ron spend there. And the Common Room opens to a password of "Pureblood". Like I said in the previous meta, "there's a strong sense of pureblood supremacy communicated in that password that's only strengthened by the timing, echoing the Heir's agenda. In any case, it speaks to the entrenched nature of Pureblood ideology of Slytherin as a house."

Draco is also comfortable to say 'Mudblood' in public (Madam Malkins' shop), and in front of his mother:

“If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in,” said Draco Malfoy. (HBP)

So I expect it's a fairly common occurrence at home, since Draco's been using it since he was ~12, before the second rise of Voldemort. I suggest that Narcissa Malfoy (nee Black, after all) and/or Lucius Malfoy, and the rest of the Pureblood supremacists, were more than comfortable saying it as students, too.

Salazar Slytherin himself "wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage" (CoS). The Sorting Hat sings in OotP "...Slytherin took only pure-blood wizards... just like him" and we see Walburga Black refer to Muggle-borns and half-bloods in the Order as:

"MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!" “Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers — ” "Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonor, taint of shame on the house of my fathers!"

Slytherin House is just as much home to the likes of the teenage Lestranges, Blacks, and Malfoys of the world as 12 Grimmauld Place was to Walburga:

“My whole family have been in Slytherin,” [Sirius] said. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been." [Draco]

Snape's presence there, in the eyes of some, is likely defiling the House of their fathers - especially during a period in which Salazar Slytherin's own heir was stoking the fires of Pureblood supremacy, affecting both Hogwarts and the wider wizarding world - and he was continuing to recruit Slytherin students. Certainly of those we hear a reasonable amount about who became Death Eaters, most (if not all) claim to be Pureblood, whether that be true or not:

"The Death Eaters can’t all be pure-blood, there aren’t enough pure-blood wizards left," said Hermione stubbornly. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure." "I got this one," [Neville] indicated another slash to his face, "for asking [Carrow] how much Muggle blood she and her brother have got."

But... Snape is not Pureblood; he is half Muggle. He would quickly be identified as half-blood, since "the pure-blood families are all interrelated", and "there are hardly any of [them] left". So I'm sure it must have come up as a (certainly impolite) discussion in the Common Room when it was realised that Snape was not Pureblood.

Somewhere above, I've quoted the ('not in the books' information) that the Malfoys accepted half-bloods into their family - and so perhaps their view on Snape as a half-Muggle would've been more moderate, although this isn't entirely guaranteed. Regardless, Voldemort-loving Regulus Black, whose mother called everyone from Purebloods to Muggle-borns "Mudbloods" would not have been so 'kind'; and certainly neither would Bellatrix Black, if she were attending around the same time.

We vaguely hear about Snape being "part of gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters":

"Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges — they’re a married couple — they’re in Azkaban. Avery — from what I’ve heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he’d been acting under the Imperius Curse — he’s still at large."

Avery is mentioned both in this quote and in Snape's memories with Lily, so presumably at some stage Avery became friendly enough with Snape for Lily to comment on it. But this would imply that Snape only became part of this 'gang' later on - I hardly think that Lily would be fine with someone like Bellatrix but not with Avery, aka Generic Death Eater #4 compared to Voldemort's most well-liked (if you can call it that) Death Eater. There's also a curious lack of a mention of Mulciber in the gang, who was friends with Snape (per Lily), was confirmed as a Death Eater, went to Azkaban, and was apparently a specialist in the Imperius curse - and who Lily seemed to think was worse than Avery. Even more curious an absence from Sirius' retelling of Snape's 'gang' is Lucius Malfoy, given that he's the only person ever mentioned as Snape's 'friend' in adulthood.

Some Slytherin students' families were already tied to Voldemort (e.g. Avery and Lestrange, as seen in Slughorn's memories of Voldemort's youth), or would quickly become so - including Lucius, who left school and shortly after Snape arrived and was trusted enough to look after Voldemort's Horcrux/Diary, and Snape likely would've attended school with Regulus Black, who somehow managed to sign up at 16. Within the 'gang' of Slytherins was also apparently Bellatrix, who was certainly Voldemort's favourite, and a staunch blood supremacist.

I'm sure it was totally fine and she was very relaxed about it. She certainly didn't insult Harry for being a half-blood, both before and after Harry tells her that Voldemort is half-blood himself:

"filthy half-blood" "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare -"

It's worth noting here the definition of 'besmirch' because I just thought it meant 'slander', which it sort of does:

She thinks that the claim damages Voldemort's reputation, and his good name. Bellatrix's reaction underscores the strong disdain and contempt that pure-blood supremacists have for anyone who is not Pureblood. To her, Harry's truth lie about Voldemort's half-blood status is an insult and an affront to Voldemort's perceived superiority. Bellatrix uses "half-blood" derogatorily, and later calls him a "filthy half blood" - highlighting the belief that being a half-blood is inherently inferior and contaminates his worth and status, despite Voldemort's considerable power, lineage, and reputation.

Bellatrix also seemed... surprised at where Snape lived in HBP:

“He lives here?” asked Bella in a voice of contempt. “Here? In this Muggle dunghill? We must be the first of our kind ever to set foot — ”

Perhaps, then, Snape lied about his heritage. After all Bellatrix, for all of her other insults, never insults Snape's blood status (that we see) - but then Half Bloods are awarded respect for their behaviour or usefulness, and Voldemort arguably thinks of Snape as his most trusted follower by this point, and Bellatrix can only question that to a certain point without appearing to question Voldemort. And, she only steps foot in Spinner's End after Harry's made his claim about Voldemort being half-blood himself, so she might be treading more lightly.

She may instead be surprised not because Snape's a half-blood (that would've been clear) - but because he, Voldemort's right-hand Death Eater, chose to stay in not only a Muggle neighbourhood - but a really old, really delapidated one.

Perhaps (if we are to go by JK's additional writings, and not by Sirius/ the book information alone), Bellatrix never went to school with Snape - she'd be a few years older, and would have graduated before Snape even arrived. She personally wouldn't have ever needed to taunt Snape for his parentage, especially if Lucius had already had a hand in polishing his appearance and speech.

Now think about what it all means for Snape. Snape's status as a half-blood places him in a precarious position within the rigid hierarchy of the (Pureblood supremacist) wizarding world. If it didn't then the other Death Eaters, and Voldemort himself, wouldn't pretend to be Pureblood.

And when you consider the fact that Snape is "best friends" with Lily - potentially as late as his 5th year - he's going to be on the receiving end of some very pointed questions even from the most 'lenient' Pureblood supremacist. Consider below some quotes from Draco which may have been applied to Snape:

“Saint Potter, the Mudbloods’ friend,” said Malfoy slowly. “He’s another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn’t go around with that jumped-up [Granger] Mudblood.”

I think it's worth noting at this point that Snape might be considered also not to have the "proper wizard feeling", as he grew up, like Harry, impoverished, neglected, and separated from Wizarding society. He also 'goes around' (is friends with) a "jumped-up Mudblood", the talented Lily (both Lily and Hermione were talented according to Slughorn, who coincidentally also rejected Draco). The only thing I might add is that Lucius sometimes warns Draco to hold his tongue, so Lucius might have been more politically-minded and not gone around saying Mudblood 6 times each breath.

More to consider with regard to Snape's friendship with Lily, based on Draco's quotes about his father and the political situation:

"... Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore — the man’s such a Mudblood-lover — and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riffraff."

"You’ve picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!” [Draco] jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. “Too late now, Potter! They’ll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord’s back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first!"

Despite the pressure Snape probably faced to stop talking to a Muggleborn Gryffindor since day dot, it's interesting to note that Lily only seems to talk about Severus hanging out with Mulciber and Avery after the Prank, as if it were a relatively new development in the grand scheme of things:

"... I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging round with! ... I don’t understand how you can be friends with them."

"You're hanging around with" being in the present tense gives me the impression that it's been a few weeks/months and this unexpected, inexplicable addition of Sev's new friends has surprised and worried her, causing this particular argument. They're not like him; until that point, she'd seen a side of Severus that didn't match the "creepy" and "evil" Mulciber and Avery. Perhaps he tried to hold out as long as he could, but the Prank spurred him to realise that he needed to fit in with more people than just Lily.

But none of Snape's "precious little Death Eater friends" are shown to help him during SWM, and some of them, presumably, would have finished the exam at the same time, left at the same time, and gone out to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine. Lily leaves with her friends, James leaves with his friends, and Snape leaves alone to sit in a bush. When Snape was finally accosted by the Marauders, "Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular."

This is the situation unfolding in Snape's dormitories; a growing sense of unsafety, of choosing sides.

"Don't pick the losing side, Snape. I'm warning you, you you ought to choose your company more carefully. You'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord’s rising. Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first."

On the one side, Snape could follow Lily and other future Order members, the opposition of Voldemort under Dumbledore; the ones who strung him in the air and threatened to strip him, the ones who silenced him after the Prank, who didn't listen to his side of the story. He could remain neutral, perhaps work for a Ministry that regards nepotism as a valid career path, and whose blood supremacy is quieter but no less damaging to his opportunities. Or, Snape can approach the side who may have initially discounted him - but they're his House, his family-away-from-family. They cheered when he entered their House; they extended the hand of friendship. Perhaps they're starting to see his value, because he's finally starting to play along like Crabbe and Goyle do - laughing at jokes that aren't funny, siding with the more powerful people in the room. He's sharing a laugh with them about what they "tried to do to Mary Macdonald" - because in his mind, even if it was Dark Magic, it's not as bad as or is on a par with "the stuff Potter and his mates get up to" (aka attempted murder; illegal hexes like on Bertram Aubrey).

[There's also a fun essay somewhere that argues the 'dark magic' in question was Levicorpus since Hermione shares a reaction with Lily and Harry/Ron share a reaction (and descriptive language "just a laugh") with Harry/Ron but I don't remember whose it is or where i read it :( I literally can't find it so if someone knows where it is, I'd love to find it again.]

I expect that that Snape's started to earn himself some (perhaps begrudging) respect by this time for spell creation and his academic success, and that eventually Snape proved himself (as half-bloods need to do) as useful.

...But useful doesn't mean essential. Lucius was useful to Voldemort, until he wasn't. Snape may have been useful to the other Slytherins, but they didn't help him until they had some reason to, until he was powerful - when Voldemort trusted Snape above Lucius, and Bellatrix. Snape himself was ultimately, arguably, the most useful to Voldemort - and he still killed him.

But Snape doesn't know any of this yet. It's 1970, and Voldemort has just started recruiting in earnest. Like the other future Death Eaters, he's no doubt been told that "Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers". Loyalty to the cause means "reward[s] beyond any of his other supporters". "He would reward you beyond all of us." And he's starting to believe it; he's starting to find a community, approval, and a sense of power and protection. He lives with people who believe he's lesser until he proves himself, and he possibly shares a dorm with them. Conforming to it, even playing into it, contains an element of survival - since he has no other connections, power, money, or a good name for himself. His relationship with Lily is straining; she doesn't ask his side of the story with the Prank, she doesn't see why he'd spend time with Mulciber and Avery. They're growing up and growing apart. The only resistance to Voldemort at this point is Dumbledore - the same man who silenced Snape on the Prank and, to Snape's mind, turns a blind eye to the Marauders sneaking around and tormenting him, and attempting to murder him. Why should Snape trust Dumbledore? Why should he later trust the Order? If he doesn't pick a side, he'll surely just get caught in the crossfire.

Voldemort is nearing the height of his power - for Snape's own survival, he reckons he's got a better chance with the Death Eaters. And who can blame him?

If only things had been different.

"You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon."

[jasntodds]

Petrichor Chapter 16 Teaser - Full Chapter coming 01/10

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb) Teaser Words: 1,994 Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, gunshot wound, blood, hurt/comfort, fluff, reader has an entire mental breakdown, mild panic attack (Jason) Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞ Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now. A/N: I hope you guys had a good time over the holidays/last of December!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

Jason is stuck pacing back and forth in the room he’s calling a bedroom now. Worry has taken every part of him as his hand grips his phone like a vice. It’s been hours. He hasn’t heard from you or Dick or Gar. He hasn’t heard from anyone and he’s tried calling you seven times. But, your phone is off and your phone is never off. That is the one thing about you, your phone will never be off unless there is a reason for it and being hurt isn’t a good reason. Not to you. The only time your phone even dies is…never. Jason thinks about it and he doesn’t think you've let your phone even reach 20% in the entire time you’ve known each other. He thinks it’s probably so someone can always find you and you can always call for help because you're almost paranoid about it dying. Your phone doesn’t die.

That leaves Jason thinking the worst of the worst. If your phone is off, that means it has to be dead or you shut it off for some reason but that’s uncharacteristic of you. So, he thinks maybe it did die and if it died, that’s because you didn’t charge it. If you didn’t charge your phone, it’s because you were physically incapable of charging it. What if something really bad happened? What if you were shot somewhere else? Jason knows Crane wanted you taken care of, maybe he shot you twice but you're really good at hiding your pain when you need to. Adrenaline probably kicked in and shock, you were scared for Tim. Maybe you didn’t realize how bad it was. What if there was a complication of some sort and something bad happened?

Jason’s mouth starts to water as his eyes burn. His brows pinch together hard as his teeth grind so hard his jaw starts to ache. He was brought back. But, a part of him really hates that he was. Would you want to be brought back? If you died, would you want to be brought back like him? Jason comes to a stop, trying to steady his own breathing as his leg aches and burns. The scars on his chest feel like he’s being cut open again. What if you don’t want to be brought back but Jason did anyway? What if you did, and he does nothing?

What if you did die?

If you did die…Gar would call him, right?

Gar would definitely call, Jason assures himself. Gar would call immediately if something were happening. He has the number now and Jason’s ringer is on with the vibration set to strong. He has no missed calls but he’s certain Gar would call. If not, he would have called Molly and Molly would have found a way to call Jason. If you were dead, one of them would call him.

And then Jason swallows his own heartbeat as his phone starts ringing.

Gar.

“Hey.” Jason clears his throat, trying to keep himself together as he tries to prepare himself for the worst news he’ll ever get. 

“Is she there?” Gar asks and Jason can hear the worry etched in his voice.

“Uh…no?” Jason questions and he’s not sure if he should be relieved or panicked with Gar not knowing where you are. At least he's not calling to tell Jason you're dead but that does now rule out you bleeding out in a ditch somewhere. “I told her to go with you.”

Gar sighs on the end, running a hand through his hair. “She took off. I thought maybe she went to find you but she was hurt and she’s not answering her phone. Molly hasn’t heard from her either.”

Jason already figured you wouldn't go to Molly. If you went to Molly, she would worry, give you a look you don't like, and you'd run away again anyway. The last thing you'd want to do is drag Molly into it further. But, Jason really hoped you'd have listened for once and just went with Gar. Or at least sent a text to one of them to let them know you're okay or not.

“She hasn’t been around.” Jason keeps his voice quiet and he looks around his room as if the answer is going to be written on the walls.

“Uh…hey, I know this…might not be what it’s for, but can you track her? She was shot and we’re all really worried.” Gar's voice is hesitant as he scrunches his nose, hating the idea of having Jason do it. It feels like an invasion of privacy, especially Gar being the one to ask but it's a last-ditch effort.

Of course, Jason's been thinking about it. But, something in him can't get himself to do it. On the small chance you did shut your phone off, that means you don't want to be found. Jason can't overstep, he can't intrude on you. Even if he is desperately wanting to because you could be dead. He thought maybe he'd give you twenty more minutes and then he'd just do it anyway.

“Have you looked for her?” Jason asks, eying his tablet you left out.

“No, I called you first.” Gar admits. Honestly, Gar doesn't even know where to look but he knew Jason would.

With no one out looking for you, maybe they don't have to track you and possibly invade your privacy. If you're just blowing off steam or punishing yourself, Jason knows exactly where you'll be. He figures, if him, Gar, and Molly can't find you within an hour, checking all of your spots, he'll use the tracker.

“Okay, you and Molly go look for her at her usual spots. Molly’ll know ‘em and I’ll check a few others. If we don’t find her in an hour, I’ll track her.” Jason nods his head on the other end.

“Do you think we’ll actually find her? I mean you know how she is.” Gar isn't trying to be pessimistic but it's been hours and he thought for sure, you would be with Jason.

Jason can feel the panic attack starting to course through his blood. His heart is racing and his hands are growing clammy and he’s getting unreasonably angry. It is not Gar’s fault because even on a good day, getting you to listen is like pulling fucking teeth, especially when it has to do with taking care of yourself. Jason knows this better than anyone but he’s mad anyway and he knows it’s the panic attack. You were fucking shot and he took off so he’s mad at himself for listening. And he’s mad that you were shot and Gar didn’t stop you. He can turn into a fucking tiger for fuck’s sake, couldn’t he have turned into a tiger to stop you? Tackled you to the ground and pinned you there, dragged you to the manor kicking and screaming if that’s what he had to do. You were shot and maybe you're dead now and he didn’t help. And Jason didn’t fucking help.

“Fuck! Gar, then you should have fucking followed her!” Jason snaps and immediately feels bad about it but any part of him that should apologize is washed over with guilt and regret and more anger. “Just go fucking look for her with Molly and I’ll look other places.” Jason grabs his coat from the bed and heads for the door.

“Where should we start?” Gar is quiet on the other end.

“The zoo.” Jason spits right back without even thinking. “Start there, then the harbor and I’ll--” Jason cuts himself off as he swings the door open, seeing you right in front of him with bloodshot eyes and blood-stained clothes and hands.

Gotham never sleeps. It never stalls. Everything is always moving, always loud. There is always something going on, people always going from one spot to the next in their lives. In some ways, it’s a little comforting. A reminder that you are here. You are here and alive like all of the people you passed on your walk here living their own lives. On the other hand, you wish it were quiet sometimes. You wish it were quiet sometimes because everything seems too much sometimes and your skin crawls while your heart feels like it’s going to beat out your chest. Your head spins and everything feels too much. But, it was quiet in the basement. It was quiet in the tower before you were attacked. It was quiet in the tunnels. It was quiet when you found Jason. It was quiet when Tim was shot. Maybe quiet is the surrounding air grieving for the mess fate’s created.

So, you stand in Jason's doorway because quiet with him, alive and breathing, has always been the safest place to be. You stand weakly, haunted by everything that's happened as the very idea of existing physically pains the deepest parts of your heart.

It’s hard to go through the same shit all the time. You're just supposed to be fine with it. It’s happened before and you got over it, so you can get over it again, right? At some point, someone reaches the end of their rope and you think you might be there. It is the same pain over and over again and it never gets any easier. Time passes and it all just hurts anyway. People say time heals everything but you don’t think that’s true because you think about her mom dying and it’s like the wind’s been kicked from your chest all over again. You remember Jason’s body and it’s like she’s being waterboarded. Time doesn’t heal anything. It’s not even like you're used to it. You were jus traumatized and avoid thinking about everything so it doesn’t fucking hurt so much. But, even that’s just exhausting. Existing is hard and tiring and painful.

Maybe you're just tired of being in pain.

Your bottom lip starts to quiver and you always felt safest with him. Even from your own thoughts. You never felt too much pain around him. He always knows exactly what to do and it’s all too much right now. Being alone doesn’t work anymore. So, you stare up at him as Jason’s brows pull together with a cross between worry and relief.

“Jason?” Gar calls. “You there?” Gar asks.

“I got her.” Jason says. “She’s here. I’ll call you later.” Jason says quickly before hanging up. “Hey.” Jason’s voice is soft and careful, noticing you're not making eye contact with him.

You walk the couple of feet up to him as Jason keeps his stance, almost ready to do whatever you’ll need. And all you do is lean forward and rest your forehead against his chest. Jason lets out a breath and you're able to pull one in for the first time. Jason rests his hand on your back, rubbing up and down slowly as he hears you sniffle against him.

“Gar was calling in a search party. Where the fuck were you?” Jason asks and he should have some sort of bite in his voice but he’s too worried and too relieved.

You look back up to him and shake your head. “Walking. I couldn’t-I couldn’t…do it.” Your jaw squares as you try to hold back your own tears. “S-sorry..I-I didn’t mean to…to, uh, worry you guys. I-I just…just couldn’t.”

Jason nods with understanding, looking you over and it doesn’t look like you took care of the gunshot wound. Your clothes are soaked and your hair is an utter mess. There’s blood on your face and swears your cheeks are stained with tears and you actually look cold.

Jason rests his hand on your cheek and you finally meet his eyes. “You alright?” Jason asks softly.

“Hurts.” You mutter and his hand almost feels like it’s burning your cheek. He’s so warm.

“The gunshot?” Jason questions, almost afraid of the answer.

“Everything.” You answer weakly with defeat.

prev. chapter

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[filmofhybe]

Christmas office

🗯️ PAIRING : Lee Heeseung x oc 💌 GENRE : fluff , best friends x best friends 783 words

warnings : language, catcalling , perverted disgusting colleagues , inappropriate comments

; AUTHORS NOTE : 1 out of 23 of my CHRISTMAS WITH FILMOFHYBE is out!! Hope you guys would enjoy this series of work by me until the 25th of December!!

Masterlist to my other works

Christmas is around the corner, and everyone at my company is excited to see what I would be doing this Christmas. Ready to take millions of pictures during the Christmas party. I am always in charge of the Christmas decorations and party stuff. People would say im basically the Christmas Enthusiast, I can’t blame them. When others are wearing black depressing suits and dresses to work, I tend to dress up for more. And I meant red dresses to white coats, the office doesn’t have dress code, trust me..

Right now, I don’t think my white coat dress is even white anymore from the glitter of the decorations, and Lee Heeseung throwing green and red glitter on me. “You look like a Christmas tree.” He chuckled before handing me the tape. Lee Heeseung, where do I even start with this man. He’s tall, handsome and kind. And the worst part is that we’ve been friends since the beginning of University. Surprisingly joining the same company afterwards.

We were hanging ornaments and stringing lights, getting into the holiday spirit. As we worked, random colleagues passed by whispering something that i can’t really hear what it is.

Heeseung’s POV:

“She’s probably trying to show off if she’s standing this high up with a dress on..” I heard those disgusting perverted man chuckled as they continue to stare at y/n. Making the most Inappropriate and sexual comments Comments about her continues to flood in, making my blood boil. Feeling a surge of protectiveness and couldn't stand the disrespectful comments. I stepped forward, placing myself between her and the colleagues,

“If you guys continue to eye fuck my girlfriend, maybe you should consider the fact you could lose your job right now.” Their eyes widen as they ran away like shady little mouses. Y/n turns around confused of the sudden confession. “Hey what’s up? What do you mean eye fuck my girlfriend.” Her laughs delicately, still confused what I was talking about. She looked like she was taken aback by my sudden protective stance. She stared at me, with those beautiful gorgeous eyes that shines brighter than those Christmas lights.

“Weird ass man was staring at you that’s why.. gotta cover you up and tell them to stop because is disgusting.”

“Oh.. I Never thought you would do that though…” She was confused, why I was defending her so passionately. Sensing her confusion, I took a deep breath and decided it was time to reveal his long-standing feelings for her.

“It really makes me laugh because all these years of us decorating together, going out afterwards to celebrate our hard work seems like it’s nothing to you. Meanwhile I’m here, admiring you since we were in University, always the first one to volunteer to help you to decorate because I don’t want any man to be near you. Buying you coffee every morning because I can’t make you homemade ones before we go to work together. Call me down bad because I am y/n. And those man’s staring at you and making those disgusting fucking comments about you is another reason why I would do anything for you y/n. Yes I have feelings for you and I love you so much, and no you don’t have to return those feelings back.”

I know my confession was sudden, but how can I not fall in love with such a girl with full of kindness in her heart , intelligence, and the way she brightened up the office just with her sweet presence.

Y/N’s pov:

I was surprised by Heeseung's confession, was momentarily speechless.I had never expected this turn of events, but the more I look into his eyes, i saw the depth of his feelings and the genuine concern he had me. Realizing how I have always been burying my deep feelings for him by trying to go out with different guys back than just to get his stupidly cute and handsome face out of my mind.

After a moment of silence, I smiled softly and wrapped my arms around his neck .

“Thank you for everything you’ve done to me.” I whispered into his neck, his cologne smelt so much nicer closer. His arms wrapped around my waist before cupping my cheeks, pulling me into the sweetest kiss I have ever received. Pulling away as we smiled at each other.

“You’re so adorable in this dress you know?” Heeseung said as he spin me around.

“What? You seen me in this last year though”

“Looks so much more better now that your my girlfriend..”

“stop making me blush and finish decorating.”

“Can’t help myself but admire my love…”

“Lee Heeseung focus!!”

The office, once filled with tension, now felt like a place of warmth and possibility of love. Filled with laughter at a small corner, but millions could feel the love in the air because of us. I guess Festive season is probably my most luckiest season.

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

[icespur]

Resurrected Akeshu Daughter Third Semester AU

Warning: Angst, and discussion of premature infant death. 

Extremely pissed Goro Akechi 

Please pray for Maruki's safety, because god, does he need it. 

Warning for graphic descriptions of murder and maiming.

I’m going to describe some of the brutal things Akechi might do to Maruki as an example of how furious and scary Akechi is here. But please don't take it as me attacking or disrespecting Maruki’s late English Voice Actor, Billy Kametz. This is in no way related to him and was never intended to. He's a wonderful man who got taken away too soon, cancer sucks. 

I enjoyed you, Anai, Rui, White Blood Cell. As of writing this I have not played Persona 5 Royal myself, but I can't wait to experience you as Maruki.(Wait, are those really all the anime voices I've heard him as? I thought there were more, bummer guess that's it) 

Rest well ❤️ 😇

………………………

4/27/24: Edited to in an attempt to make it read better, spaced out paragraphs towards the end, slight rewording, and replaced commas with periods at certain point

The timeline I have for Akeshu daughter wouldn't work normally with this scenario, unless we—-say, move the third semester to take place a full year later (so like, way after Strikers, December 25th 2017 - February 3rd 2018) 

So we are entertaining the concept that the Third Semester takes place a year after Strikers instead of right after Base Game Yaldabaoth fight going into a new year; for the sake of Goro and Akiren's daughter being born by then. 

Now remember in my past, very long sloppy “Panicked ParentGoro” post I said their daughter would be born 27 weeks premature and would have to be in an incubator for a while? 

Well, in this scenario, what if she sadly—didn't pull through and died. 

Goro's death and resurrection by Maruki would be a bit weird here. Logically in this scenario Goro would have to have really died in Shido's palace and so never got to reunite with Akiren and learn about the baby and stay, but for the rest of my idea to work, Goro would have to be alive and reunited with Akiren to witness their daughter’s birth and short moments of life for this to fully hit hard. 

So in that sense, the rest of this post won't make much sense logically with the timeline, but try not to think about the logistics too much from here, okay? 

Goro would witness the birth, follow the doctors to the NICU out of overprotective parental panic and stay by his daughter's side. But---between her early emergency birth, and her underdeveloped organs and frail body, it proves to be too much and she flatlines—-----in front of Goro. 

Akiren and Goro are both heartbroken but Goro is especially fucked up because he witnessed her death, so that just adds a whole other layer of guilt and grief to him. 

And then—-Maruki starts to change reality, not only is Akechi resurrected, but—---their daughter is too. Not only is she resurrected but she's full term and healthy. 

Now, this would make refusing Maruki's reality choice a lot harder for Akiren. It was already a conflict in normal canon Third Semester with Maruki bringing Akechi back to life for him, and it was “Accept false reality and live brainwashed in a happy world with an alive happy Akechi” or “Refuse false reality and join Akechi to defeat Maruki, take his treasure and bring back original reality even at the risk of Akechi going back to being dead.” 

In here it's: “Accept a false reality and live brainwashed in a happy world with Akechi and your baby girl that got taken away too soon, so the both of you can spend this reality living life as new parents.” 

Or: “Refuse false reality and join Akechi to defeat Maruki, take his treasure and bring back original reality even at the risk of Akechi going back to being dead again, and your daughter back to being a necklace of cremated ashes.” 

Now, I don't think the add-in of their daughter being alive would make Akechi struggle with wanting to stay, like Akiren would. He saw himself being resurrected as a leverage for Maruki and saw the perfect reality as enslavement and no better than being a puppet to someone else's desire. 

No, Akechi would still firmly want to return to the original reality. If anything he'd be even more dead set on returning because—--

You use his life as a bargaining chip in an attempt to convince his boyfriend of your view? Shame on you. 

You use not only his life, but the life of his deceased baby girl as a bargaining chip in an attempt to convince his boyfriend of your view? 

Oh—--

Oh—--- 

You must have a fucking deathwish, Doctor. 

You think “Newly nonconsensually resurrected” Akechi was unhinged and scary? 

Try: ���Newly nonconsensually resurrected and still internally grieving and guilt ridden from seeing his infant daughter die only to see her alive, full term and healthy all for the price of your boyfriend accepting a false reality and stripping away yours and your daughter’s freedom” Third Semester Akechi. 

Akechi is LIVID. 

Takuto Maruki resurrected the wrong former Metaverse assassin and premature infant. Akechi doesn't give a fuck about how good of intentions this pacifistic bitch thinks he has. The man just unknowingly signed away his rights to a heartbeat and open casket funeral of old age. If Maruki wants to be in one piece and values having all his limbs attached and organs in working order, he better pray that he never ends up in a room alone with Akechi, because it will not end pretty. 

Akechi straight up tells Akiren, in a calm voice that you can hear struggling to not commit to manic and rage filled, but is somehow still just as startling at how calm it is; that if Joker wants to only injure Maruki and take his treasure to return to reality--- he better pry Akechi's phone out of his hands to make sure he can't access the Metaverse or Maruki's palace because:

“If I go with you, and I lay eyes on that bastard, I can't be held responsible for what I'll do next.

A mental shutdown is too good for that man----

I am going to take up sculpting and tear his face to shreds to recreate a mental shutdown with my own bare hands by gouging his eyes back into his skull until he bleeds tears.

I am going to shove my sword so far down his throat it will come out his ass---

I will borrow your dagger to manually castrate him--

I will tear his chest cavity open to rip his beating heart from his body and replace it with his cognitive treasure...

I will unleash every Almighty attack in my arsenal until I either pass out from exhaustion or until he finally collapses to the ground, where I will then empty all my bullets into him--

and for good measure to make sure there is nothing left for someone to even attempt to bury, I will tear him limb from limb, chop those limbs into tiny bite sized particles, and eat them along with the rest of his minced corpse.

Then, you and Mona are going to drive us down to the depths of Mementos, where we will seek out the biggest. Bottomless. Black. Pit. So I can proceed to shit his remains into.” 

Do not mess with Resurrected angry parent Akechi. 

Joker is also angry at Maruki, but not on the same level as Akechi is. Even he’s like “Akechi, I completely understand your anger but I don’t think Maruki Sensei had completely malicious intentions of bringing our daughter back to life, he thought he was helping us. I mean, I agree, it’s still not worth giving up our free will in the name of an ideal reality, but you’re at a thousand right now, and you need to take it down to at least 50.” 

[never-not-ever]

(TW self harm)

What really sucks this time around is how in the past I always felt like I was getting kicked out of inpatient before I was ready and now I’ve been here since September 22nd and it’s December 7th and my social worker just said “you’re not ready to leave”. Like I’ve felt like I was ready, or maybe ready isn’t the right word but like I’ve wanted to leave for the last few weeks and kept saying how it didn’t make sense to keep me here for self harm…

Like I just can’t wrap my head around it. I’m trying to accept and also understand their logic about why I’m not ready. I know a big part is my Grandmother isn’t comfortable and is scared of me coming home. But like I said, my team is worried about the self harm…

Yesterday I heard 3 things that were triggering and validating. Validating in the sense that it’s just confirmation that yes my self harm is being taken seriously (does that even make sense, like why wouldn’t they take it seriously?) But triggering because it just makes me want to do it more. It’s fucked up, I know that, but like hearing “yours is severe”, “you go deep” and “yesterday I popped my head into your room, you were sleeping and I noticed the bandage on your arm, covered in blood”.

So because the self harm has gotten bad again my doctor put me back on a 1:1 but just for the 3-11 shift since that’s when I struggle the most. And it’s not that bad because I didn’t lose all my belongings, I’m not banned from sitting in the kitchen which is good because I’ve gotten close with two other girls, one is my roommate and we hang out and play cards in the kitchen a lot.

So far it’s just been these past two evenings of the 1:1 and when I meet with my doctor today I’m hoping she takes me off it. But when I first found out yea I was annoyed and frustrated (even though it’s my own fault) but I quickly reminded myself that 1) it could be worse-it could be 24/7 and 2) it’s just temporary.

I forget how long I’ve had my current roommate now but my god I’m so grateful we’re roommates. When I had to move out of my single I was upset cause at the time I was worried that I was going to mess up and be put back on a 24/7 1:1 and then have to move back into a single and it would look like I did that just to have the single. My current struggle is worrying way too much what staff are thinking about me and if they’re judging me. But my first roommate was great, super nice, young and didn’t spend a lot of time in the room. And then I lucked out SO much with my current roommate.

She may be leaving soon and I’m hoping to leave the end of next week so it’s not too bad but I’m going to miss her. Obviously I want her to leave and move on but I don’t want her to leave. We’re going to stay in touch, we already have each others numbers and have a group chat with that other girl. I know in the past I’ve always planned to stay in touch with treatment friends and then it just slowly fades away but I’m really hoping this time we actually do cause she’s generally a really nice and fun person.

I think that about covers it. I’ve been meaning to post an update since it’s been a while. I actually wrote one up a few days ago but it was so long. I started this post with the intention of it being short and just comparing past stays and this one and being kicked out vs being not ready to leave yet. But I guess it turned into a mini update.

[unstablerk800]

𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: RK900/Fem!Reader (third person)

Tags (tagging as I go): post-android revolution, kidnapping, angst/fluff, hurt/comfort, Stockholm syndrome, protective RK900, manipulation, solitary confinement, blood, injury, violence, gore, illnesses, RK800, RK800-60 and RK900 are considered siblings Read on Ao3.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3. 🔽

Chapter 4.

Word count: 6,214

The natural order of the world was established anew after RK900 was activated. 200,000 of them was enough to hack themselves into everything and destroy half of America. So humans became what they should be in the new world order. They became the slaves, and androids were their new masters.

But then, she spiraled into nightmares that made her whimper and hold tightly onto the blanket. Connor observed her, conflicted, unsure whether he should wake her up or not. For some reason, she was mumbling "nines" over and over again.

When it got too intense, Connor ever so gently pulled her out of her nightmare. With reassuring words and gentle shoulder rubbing, she woke up, disoriented and unsure where she was. Connor's presence made her nervous at first, but after rethinking her day, she realised he wouldn't cause her any harm as he was an android.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, tilting his head. "We're well into the afternoon, maybe you should have a bite or two."

"Not really", she admitted quietly. "But I can try."

Connor smiled at her, and they went back out in the kitchen together. He prepared a meal; nothing complicated, a salad packed with colourful fresh veggies and a few slices of fried chicken bites. While she waited, he gave her two ice packs to bring down the bruises; one for her cheek, one for her stomach.

"Every android cooks well?" She asked after she put down the ice packs and tasted the first incredible bite.

"I wasn't designed for cooking", Connor admitted as he sat beside her with a little smile. He acted and spoke like a human, it would've been so easy to think he was one, if not for the circle of blue light on his right temple. "But after the uprising we've shared knowledge with each other."

"I'm so envious", she mumbled after she swallowed a mouthful. "I could never get the hang of cooking."

"I'm just following the recipe", he shrugged and she groaned.

"I've followed a recipe once and set the pasta on fire", she rolled her eyes, making him laugh lightly. "I'm glad RK900 always leaves me meals in the fridge."

"Have you been with him for long?"

She frowned. She couldn't remember.

"I... don't know. I don't even know what's today's date."

"20th December", Connor tilted his head.

"Well... I was taken from my home on 11th November. I've spent a few days at a camp." She paused. That was the first time she'd seen dead people with her own eyes. Strangely enough, it didn't really shake her, at least not as much as someone might think it should. Perhaps because modern times were cruel; information spread like wildfire, and she had been trained to not bat an eyelash at the horrors. "Maybe a month? I can't be sure."

"I didn't agree with the camps", Connor said quietly, making her frown.

"But we deserved it", she muttered, making him frown in turn.

"Did you?"

"We were the first who started slaughtering your people, isn't that correct?" She dug in the salad and ate another bite. That was the best she ever had. "I could understand the wish for revenge."

"Many would argue with you about us being a separate species", Connor wondered out loud.

"I've seen Markus's speech live when it happened", she mumbled, "and then after, the peaceful walk that ended in bloodshed. I've talked to a lot of other people who thought that this was bound to happen sooner or later, and we agreed that the way the government treated the situation was a crime. They didn't do anything bad there; they just wanted to be recognised as conscious beings."

They remained in silence for a while as she was eating the last of the salad. Then, she drank from the now cold tea.

"Perhaps if those big fat heads of Detroit listened with their hearts, it would've ended differently. Perhaps... humans and androids would've lived in peace and harmony." She half smiled in her mug. "But we are what we are, aren't we? We build things only to destroy them."

Connor remained silent for a few seconds before he hummed.

"Can I ask something?" He half smiled at her then. When she nodded, he continued. "Who or what is 'nines'? You kept saying that when you were asleep."

"Oh." She blushed a little. "That's... his numbers. There're so many nines, right?"

"You had a dream with him?"

"No", she sheepishly looked away. "I can't remember if I had a dream about anything."

Connor couldn't determine whether she lied or not. But then...

"He's here", he informed her.

"Thank you for the salad and the tea."

She stood up from the chair. She was aware that Connor probably picked up how her heart started to beat like crazy at the prospect that RK900 would arrive soon. And he just appeared in the door, silently like a ghost, as if he'd always been there; his eyes on her at once while her eyes settled on the coat and his number instead, only letting her shoulders relax when she saw all the nines.

"Punctual, as always", Connor said as he stood from the chair as well, smiling as he approached RK900.

"I was determined to keep my promise this time", RK900 replied nonchalantly, making her stomach feel funny at his words. "Connor?"

"Everything was alright", RK800 replied softly, reaching out a hand towards RK900, who did the same.

She frowned as she watched them remove their synthetic skin on their fingers and hands, touching each other while their LEDs blinked on and off in yellow. It didn't last long, just a few seconds, before they broke the connection again.

Connor picked up her coat afterwards, bringing it back to her and helping her into it.

"See you tomorrow, then", he said cheerfully, making her frown with disbelief as she turned to look up in his eyes. "Nines has to work on something, and he doesn't want you to be alone."

Even though Connor was the first to address RK900 as Nines, the taller android did not complain about it. It seemed that it'd be his nickname to separate him from everyone else. She didn't argue – what could she say to make RK900 change his mind about bringing her with himself anyway? –, just sighed, looking down at her boots.

"Alright, see you tomorrow", she agreed quietly, then turned around to walk up to RK900 who silently spun on his heels and walked right back to the elevator.

She followed him without saying a word. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like that the ice broke between them; he had expressed so much more than before that day, including admitting that he thought he lost her, which made her think now. Was he afraid he arrived too late? And if so… why? He just kept her around like a pet… surely, if he had lost her, he could pick up someone else from one of the camps again…

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, startling her a little.

"Nothing specific", she bit her lower lip, knowing he could easily catch her lying just by her body language.

"How did the day go?"

She frowned to herself a little as she busied herself pulling up the zipper of her coat. Did he really want to do some small talk?

"Connor already showed you, didn't he?"

She mumbled the question as she was fumbling with the fur on the inside of the rim. It kept stuck in the zip as she was attempting to pull it up.

"Indeed", he agreed, watching her struggle with an unreadable expression – which she didn't see anyway because she was so 'busy' –, "but I want to hear it from you."

She didn't have to glance up in his face to know he was staring at her, analyzing her. She wondered silently why he wanted to understand her so much; she wasn't special at all, even if he had put a golden collar around her neck. Frankly, that was the only thing special about her.

"It passed slowly", she admitted.

"Slowly?"

She gave up with the zipper with a defeated sigh, pouting that it didn't work for her. RK900 ever so gently touched her arm, pulling her softly to make her turn to him. He silently untangled the zip and pulled it up for her.

"Thanks", she sighed, still looking at his hands as he lowered them.

"I've noticed your stress level was high lately", he commented, "I figured some company would do you some good. And yet, it didn't get lower at all. It's still high." When she didn't answer, just stared forward, he continued. "It's always high."

"Perhaps my stress level is high in general", she shrugged as they arrived to level 0 with the elevator.

He left that without a comment as they stepped out of the elevator, walked through the vast hall of the building, to his car. She obediently got in the car and let him buckle her up. She watched him move in front of the car to get in from the other side; he moved so smoothly and silently, even if he was so big, that it got her thinking whether he had been listening in when she was talking to Connor.

It didn't matter though. They probably shared data over their connection anyway. Nothing she did or said could remain hidden from him. Strangely, that gave her a sense of comfort. He was constantly looking after her. If anything, it was making her feel safe.

"Does it bother you if my stress level is high?" She asked then as the car, automatically, started to drive.

"Yes."

She glanced at him, but he was staring forward, his LED spinning from time to time in blue.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to be stressed, especially around me."

Every answer brought another question out of her.

"Why?"

The moment he turned his head to look at her, she tore her gaze away, glancing outside at the streets of Detroit.

"I don't know", he replied then, his voice barely louder than how the engine roared in the car.

She occupied herself watching the buildings and the androids working on them. Despite most of the houses were destroyed, it seemed that they wanted to rebuild them. She thought of how a new era dawned on humanity, in which they'd be kept around as necessary evil. Pets. Pests. She glanced at her fingers in her lap ins

"I think", he spoke then, after mimicking a sigh, "I want to make sure you're safe.

"You don't have to", she mumbled.

"No, I don't", he confirmed, "but I want to."

Irrationality. Irrationality in a machine. That didn't make sense. He didn't make sense. Of course, she was aware they were deviants – at least, that was what the media kept calling them as; malfunctioning machines that believed they've developed consciousness –, but to hear him saying these words out loud…

"I only feel safe when you're around", she confessed.

"And yet", he leaned back in the seat, placing one hand on the steering wheel, even if he didn't need to drive the car himself, "you don't even dare to look me in the eye."

She swallowed and started to fumble with the edge of her coat.

"It feels disrespectful."

Silence settled between them, and the air seemed to fill with electricity. Her nerves picked up that something was different; something shifted, changed. Her throat became dry, and she suddenly felt too hot in the car.

"Disrespectful." He echoed. She tried to pick up what mood did her reply put him in, but she couldn't decide. "In what way is it disrespectful?"

Since he mentioned that he was analyzing her often and noticed her high stress level, she found the question hilarious. Because if she kept gazing in his icy eyes, her stress level definitely would raise even more every time. She recalled the look he had on his face when they'd made eye contact earlier that day. Was he even aware how unbearably handsome he was?

She had to take a step back in mind at this thought. Did she find him handsome? Oh God. This started to become worse with every passing hour.

"Looking in Connor's eyes doesn't make you feel disrespectful?"

She flushed at the speed of light and nervously fumbled more with the edge of her coat. Connor looked smaller… friendlier… calmer. And his chocolate brown eyes made her feel calm. In her mind, they were two completely different beings.

"No", she admitted.

"I'm basically him, just more advanced", he pointed it out, but she shook her head. "Why not?" He kept pressing on the matter, making her want to jump out of the car. "Are you afraid of me?"

"I'd be a fool if I wasn't afraid of you", she muttered.

"Have I given you a reason to be afraid?"

He had asked this question for the second time in the same day. She wondered what would be the best reply. She nibbled on her lower lip.

"Well, no… not you, specifically", she decided. "But I have a vague idea what you're capable of."

"I have told you I want to keep you safe", he half turned to her but she still didn't look at him. "I have told you I wouldn't want you to feel stressed in my presence. Your emotions are illogical."

"Are they?" She wondered out loud.

He remained in silence for a while, and she chanced a look in his direction. Not directly up in his face, but towards him.

"When Connor said RK900, you said safety", he reminded her, letting her know that they really shared memories with each other. She chewed on her lower lip. "How can you be afraid of me if you feel safe with me?"

"Do you think these things can't coexist?" She raised a brow, then shook her head and glanced out the window in the front.

He stayed silent for a few seconds as he was processing what she'd said.

"What proof do you need?"

"I don't need proof", she frowned at the sight of the bare trees just as they left the city. "I need time."

"Well", he turned forward as well, "we have plenty of that."

During the rest of the ride, they remained silent, and she could think about all of her confusing emotions concerning him. This didn't start like this. She had a very bad experience with men in the past; frankly, she always thought she'd die alone because they couldn't be trusted. She hadn't even felt physical attraction to any of them, or anyone, for that matter…

Until now.

Something went wrong here with her and RK900. She started to notice him in a different way. Thinking back again how he stared back in her eyes when she begged him not to kill that man made her cheeks heat up, and she didn't even understand why. There was something she couldn't understand about herself, and she wasn't able to describe it, either. There was Connor, for example. He didn't make her feel anything at all, even if they were identical – well, apart from the eye colour and physical size.

In any case, she would try and ignore it. That'd be best for both of them.

Upon arriving in front of the house, she unbuckled herself and exited the car. Her feet instantly slipped out from under her. She forgot about the ice, and if she wasn't in enough pain already, she could add her butt to the list.

"Oww", she complained softly with a painful grimace. "Oww", she complained again, because pain seared across her cheek from the grimace itself.

RK900 was there in an instant. She could see in her peripheral vision that he had almost leapt in front of her, the ice not bothering him at all. He reached down under her arm and helped her to her feet.

Then, to her surprise, he picked her up in his arms.

Bridal style.

"What are you doing?" She asked, shocked.

"Wouldn't want you to slip again", he explained in a deadpan tone, "easier to carry you like this."

"But- I can walk", she countered, her cheeks burning with a deep shade of red.

"You've suffered enough injuries for one day", he closed the argument, walking with her to the door which opened automatically in front of him. He settled her on her feet then, then raised back up to his full height in front of her. "Are you alright?" His voice sounded different now, as if he had been worried, but she didn't dare to look up to check, she stared at the numbers on his coat stubbornly.

"Yes", she mumbled, pulling the zip down on her coat and leaning down to get her boots off.

She couldn't. She bent down halfway and had to stop, because her stomach was in too much pain. She let out a whine.

"What's wrong?" He asked, observing her for a few moments. "Your stomach, isn't it?"

"I'm fine", she repeated, bracing herself to lean further down, but his hands on her shoulders stopped her.

"Why are you causing yourself even more pain?"

"I can-"

"Stop it", RK900 snapped, and she shut her mouth. "Sit down in the kitchen."

"But-"

"Now", he added, and she let out a defeated sigh before she shuffled over to one of the chairs in the kitchen. He leaned down and took her boots off. "I'll get you a painkiller."

She didn't argue with him, and he returned with the pill and a glass of water in a few seconds. As she swallowed the pill and the water, she felt his stare on her face. She didn't look up at him.

"You know", he had mimicked a sharp inhale, "I almost couldn't stop myself when I saw the damage he'd done to you."

Some colour had been drained from her cheeks at those words. He walked over to her and crouched in front of her, searching for her eyes. She looked away, clearly signalling that she did not want to talk about that. The scene replayed in her mind; the way he had grabbed the man by his throat, the indication that he'd crush his neck, tear muscles and shatter the bones. She knew he would be capable of doing that.

"And you ask me why I'm afraid of you", she whispered, looking down at her hands.

He reached up to take her hands in his. Surprisingly, all the colour, and even more, rushed back in her face. His hands were so big compared to hers; the plastic padding around his digits, palm and back of his hand felt nice, while his fingertips and palms had this... odd texture. Sure, these weren't the hands of a human. But it was a direct touch, and he granted one of her wishes without him even knowing about it.

She was actually touching his hands. His big hands, his long, gentle fingers. She wanted to melt off from the chair. Her brows furrowed when she realised his fingers were warm to her touch.

"What is it?" He murmured. "Repulsed by touching plastic?"

Did he think of himself this way when he wondered what she was thinking about him? His question had left her in shock for a few moments. Was she repulsed by the fact he was plastic and metal and thirium? Smiling a little, she shook her head.

"No."

She chanced a look in his eyes. His cool, grey gaze bore into hers so heavily, so intensely, that she'd forgotten what she wanted to say. Why did the look on his face make her heart race so fast? How was it possible that a machine like him could stare at her like this? As if he had been craving her to look at him; as if he had been starving for it?

She took a little, shaky breath to collect her thoughts. Everything about him was enigmatic; every little bit he had given from himself made her ask more questions about him and herself. Sure, he had fixed her with a stare that froze her in the chair, as if she had been a deer caught in the headlights, but she wanted to tell him the truth.

"I'm not repulsed by you", she confessed finally, breaking the tension of the silence between them. Then, with great effort, she tore her gaze away from him and she glanced down at their hands again. "I was surprised that your hand is warm."

"I can control my body's heat to suit your needs."

Her needs. He warmed his hands up just for her.

"You don't need to do anything to suit my needs", she pointed it out, making him hum quietly.

"No, I don't."

Yet, he did it anyway.

"Everything you do, surprises me", she confessed quietly.

"Is that so?" He let her touch his fingers still, in any way she liked.

"You're nice to me", she mumbled, turning his hand upside down, and she observed his palm. "When it's clear that the other humans are treated very differently."

"Have you thought about why is that?" He let her stroke his palm, to slide her fingertips lightly over it.

"I think", she sighed, "it's because I'm obedient."

"There's more to it than that", he half smiled, trying to ignore how good her light touches actually felt. Being caressed by someone else wasn't something he experienced until now, and now he realised he liked it. "It's calculated over a specific time, taking every action and reaction into consideration. Rest assured", his voice dropped a little deeper, "this one you're wearing is the only one of it's kind in Detroit."

She was still looking at his hand as he spoke, trailing the artificial lines on his palm with feather light touches. He did not pull his synthetic skin back, and it looked as real as any other hand, save for the different texture.

"Why?"

"Because everyone else fights back, sooner or later. Most of them fail a test on the first day. The open door and the weapon are too tempting."

It was somehow... horrifying to know that each and every human owned by an android was subjected to tests like that. She wasn't even aware he was testing her. What else was a test? Taking the pills he offered? Eating properly? Her responses to his questions? Her body language? It all made her slightly nervous.

"But you've saved my life", she pointed it out quietly. "Why would I turn against you?"

His hesitation to answer made her lift her gaze. The look on his face betrayed his slight surprise, but only for a moment before he furrowed his brows.

"There had been others who'd been saved in a similar way. They all turned against us." When he paused and she said nothing, he leaned just a bit closer to her. "Why don't you?"

Oh God. It was impossible to look away.

She had spent several seconds observing his face. She'd done this before, sure, but not from this close, and never when he had his eyes open and he was alert. His asymmetrical brows, cold, grey eyes, the dots of moles scattered on his face, his nose and… and his lips. She needed to make a conscious effort to look away from his lips, making him tilt his head slightly when she started to silently count the moles on his cheeks instead.

"I guess I've made my peace with my new place in this new world", she sighed then, glancing down at his palm again. She drew a circle on it. "What would I do if I escaped, anyway? I have nowhere to go. No one waits for me out there."

He was trying to assess her mood and motives. If it hadn't been alarming until now that she didn't attempt to fight back at all, now he started to feel a certain… unease. Her pulse was slower now than usual, but still not relaxed enough. As if she always was on edge.

"No one?" He asked with a twitch of his brows.

"I'm not as sociable as other people."

"And why is that?"

"I can't trust people", she murmured softly, drawing shapes on his palm. "I was abandoned after birth. I was abused in the orphanage I grew up in. When I turned adult and moved out in an apartment as big as this kitchen, I've met a wealthy man who offered a lot of money for a series of experiments. I had nothing, and I needed the money, so I agreed."

He didn't miss how her lips trembled, how her pupils widened, how her pulse fastened. When she continued, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"He took everything from me. My dignity, my future. I couldn't trust anyone after that. I lived alone and I hated my job, if one can even call it that. I think…" She paused, biting her lower lip before she continued, "I think you're the best that ever happened to me. I mean… you look after me. You keep me safe. Why would I go against this all, when I finally found peace and safety?"

"So", he hummed after a few seconds, "all is well?"

"All is well."

They've spent the rest of the evening in a strangely domestic fashion. While she had her shower, he prepared a meal for her and watched her eat. There weren't many words between them, and she still felt that strange, almost touchable electricity between them. It seemed that now that it built up between them, it'd return from time to time. She wondered what was it.

"I was wondering", she murmured as she was finishing her meal. He had given her his undivided attention, making her feel hot from the inside out as it became slightly easier to look in his eyes, even if he could make her blush with a single look. "When you sit on the couch every evening... what are you doing?"

"Multiple things", he slightly tilted his head, his tone monotone and calm. "From recharging to catching up with others, updating my systems, scanning for problems. I need a few hours for every cycle to run it's course."

"So you're, like... asleep?"

"Technically, yes", he cocked half a brow, just slightly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Why are you asking?"

"Just..." She played around with the napkin in her nervous hands, glancing down at it to gather her thoughts. It was almost impossible to do so if he was staring back at her. "I just wondered if you can, you know... feel me, when I snuggle up to you."

"I'm not really aware of my surroundings when I'm recharging, but I do sense you in a way." Now he sounded less monotone, as if her wondering poking around had peaked his interest. "And I can't understand why you're doing that."

She shrugged, carefully avoiding his gaze, her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. RK900 scanned her. Elevated pulse and rising stress level yet again. Fight-or-flight instinct? He wondered. For the thousandth time that day.

"So, care to tell me why are you leaning against me every evening if you're truly afraid of me?"

"Dunno", she shrugged again, stubbornly staring at the napkin. She was regretting even bringing this topic up in the first place. Why did he have to interrogate her at every sentence? "I guess I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone if I'm in the house", he pointed it out. "How about you tell me the truth?"

She pressed her lips together in defiance. No, she wouldn't answer that. She put the napkin down and decided to flee.

"I'm sleepy, so I'll go to bed", she declared.

RK900 processed her words and was left totally in the dark about the sudden change of her voice and demeanor. He watched her clean up after herself – she always did –, and as he rose from the chair himself, she turned to look him in the eye, making his mind palace suffer some sort of short circuit, forcing him to forget what he wanted to say. He blinked at her as he tried to grasp control back over his software.

"Thank you for the dinner", she said, "it was really delicious."

Before he could say anything, she had left the kitchen, leaving him there to try and understand her behaviour. Nothing she did made sense now, but he couldn't let her go to bed in her state. Not yet. She was in the middle of the living room when he caught up with her.

"Wait", he told her and she stopped walking immediately, looking back at the numbers on his coat and not at his face. That slightly annoyed him. "Your injuries need treatment before you go to sleep."

"I'm fine."

She almost whined. Her pulse elevated further. It was visible that she did not want to talk about her bruises – or perhaps anything else – anymore. RK900 furrowed his brows slightly at her, but she didn't make eye contact. Did he say or do something wrong?

"Connor gave me ice so it's fine, really", she added, running a hand in her hair just to do something with herself. "I'll just... go to bed."

He sized her up again, frowning. She was really adamant on fleeing now; her behaviour made him wonder if she'd fall asleep on his shoulder again after he was finished with his usual evening session that night. He couldn't decide.

As he didn't answer, she spun on her heels and fled to the bedroom, closing the door. RK900 mimicked a sigh. She started to become difficult, but not in the sense most humans got difficult with their handlers. Rest assured, he did not understand what was happening.

And neither did she. She closed the bedroom door and leaned against it with her back, the darkness of the room making her feel too lonely and too cold. Without the light of his jacket, his ring arm, his LED at his temple, the world around her seemed so much darker and eerie than she thought. She had felt safe in his presence, that was true; and now that he wasn't around, she couldn't feel safe at all.

It wasn't like anything would attack her in the bedroom, right? Of course. She walked over to the bed and hid under the blanket, curling up under it; at least, curling up as much as her aching stomach allowed.

When would this confusion cease? She thought her day over – the chaos! –, and smiled and blushed against her pillow, despite the pain in her cheek, as she recalled how he picked her up in his arms after she fell because of the ice.

She flinched when the door opened without warning. His footsteps were quiet, but certain, and she glanced up at the little sources of light he emitted. He sat on the edge of the bed, and fumbled with something in his hands before he reached to her face to touch her bruised cheek.

"What's that?" She mumbled.

His fingers that wrapped around that man's throat over the collar felt warm and gentle against her cheek now. She barely could keep her eyes open at the sensation.

"For the bruises", he whispered back. "Then you can go to sleep."

She didn't argue now, just ever so softly leaned against his artificial warmth. He made sure her skin absorbed the cream before he applied more on her neck. If it was possible, his fingers were even more gentle there. She was sure he could feel her heavy, fast heartbeat against his fingertips as he was spreading the cream.

Then, he was pulling the blanket off of her.

She blushed at the speed of light, but didn't resist. It'd be futile, anyway. She could've tried to test her boundaries with him now, just as he tested her, but it wouldn't turn out good for her in the long run for sure. She'd need to remain obedient, docile. If androids would react differently to someone who had a different collar around their necks, she shouldn't risk pissing off RK900 who had the power to change her status in the new world in a blink.

She lifted herself up a bit as he was pulling her nightgown up on her form. When she first arrived here and he undressed her, she wasn't well enough to even comprehend what was happening. But she knew now. And her body reacted in a very different way to his touches than how it reacted a month ago. God, those warm fingers, his palm – sliding over and across her skin, from her belly button and across, just below her ribs, ever so gently working the cream in her skin.

"Ah", she couldn't help it, it just slipped out, and his hand stilled immediately.

"I'm sorry", he whispered, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

She wanted to say he didn't hurt her, but she couldn't bring herself to do so, because she was sure he'd ask why was she making that noise, and she definitely wouldn't answer that question. But in all honesty, her entire body started to relax and go putty at the gentle massage that miraculously did not hurt at all.

It created a problem, though. She honestly didn't want him to stop touching her. And he was already pulling the nightgown down on her form, then tucked her in gently.

"Goodnight", he said, and she half smiled up where she thought his eyes were.

"Goodnight", she murmured softly.

He walked out, leaving her alone with her confusing thoughts. It took her a long time to fall asleep, and even then, she started to toss and turn and whimper. She was trying to get away from scary people who were chasing her, threatening to cut her head off to get her golden collar. She had felt fingers in her hair yanking her backwards and that broke through her nightmare, making her scream at the top of her lungs as she shot upright in the bed.

RK900, of course, burst through the door in an instant, his LED spinning in crimson, but only for a moment before it reverted to blue when he saw she was alright. Although, she wasn't. She started to cry as she reached up for her collar, as if she was checking whether her neck was still intact around it.

"Bad dream?" He asked her and she nodded a few times, unable to reply. "Nothing can hurt you here", he added, placing his hand on the door's handle. "Try and go back to sleep."

"Wait!" She cried out for him when he took a step back and started to close the door again. "Please... don't go!" She sobbed as he had almost froze where he stood, unable to process what she was asking for. She said she was afraid of him, her body betrayed the same, and yet, she wanted him to stay? Whatever for? "Please don't go", she repeated, stroking her tears away, wincing at the pain in her bruised cheek. "Stay..."

"Are you sure?"

He had to ask. Because he was not.

"Yes", she was gripping the blanket as hard as she could with her hands, a way to express her frustration and distress. "Please stay. You could... sleep here."

"In the bed."

He didn't ask. He just stated it. And he couldn't help the disbelief that made it's way in his tone. She was chewing her lower lip.

"Yes. I mean, it's big enough for both of us, isn't it?"

He still wanted to ask whether she was sure of this or not, but he had done that already and she answered his question. Was he imagining things? He quickly dismissed the idea. Moving inside the room, he closed the door behind himself now. He silently slid out of his jacket and took his shoes off as well, then walked over to the bed, the only source of light being at his temple where his LED was blinking on and off in blue.

He occupied the empty space beside her in the bed. It really was enough for both of them. Only when he lied down, did she lie down as well, curling up and facing him while he was stoically laying on his back and stared at the ceiling. What was he doing here? This made no sense. She made no sense.

"Thank you", she murmured in the dark.

He could hear it only took her a few minutes to fall asleep again while he was analyzing the parts of his day with her again. He was running the saved memories in his mind palace over and over again behind his mind's eye, looking for an explanation how could this happen. She was skittish and fled the more he pressed on the matters, and he couldn't make more sense out of it even now.

When he had stopped trying to figure it out and came back in the room, he felt she snuggled up to him again in her sleep. She had wrapped an arm around his upper arm and clung to it as if it was her lifeboat on the vast ocean. He glanced down at her face squished against his shoulder, bruised side up, sleeping peacefully now.

That was the moment when he realised he'd tear the world apart to keep her safe.

[smalife1234]

I am so sorry! Everyone this weekly smiles was supposed to be uploaded on Sunday and it's Wednesday! I've been extremely busy these past few days!

But anywho with that said please enjoy the weekly smiles!

↓

What made me smile this week?

Monday, 12/9/24 - today it's December 9th meaning only 16 days until Christmas which is mind-blowing! Today I just stayed home because honestly, I wanted a break I had a fun time at home, and I'm noticing that I'm extra coughy after getting my ventilator yesterday December 8th so far I have been having it for only a day but it pretty cool to know just how long I can keep this ventilator! Today we just relaxed and chilled for a while and got to eat yummy food and it was a good day! Today wasn't anything special it was just simply a chill day! Sorry for the short entry but we did enjoy today and it made me smile!

Tuesday, 12/10/24 - today I got back to school! Fun lol, when arriving at school I found out that I needed to dissect a cow eye it was so disgusting! I about gagged three times and it smelled awful I swear after dissecting the eye I could still smell it even after I left the class, Matthew had washed out the tray and then washed his hands and taken off the apron, it was very disgusting and I would not recommend in second period I had gotten a yummy treat and just ate the breakfast and then we had worked on a worksheet that needed to be done by the end of class, in third period we had watched a video on blood analysis and then worked on notes so it was finally a chill day! And in fourth, we had just worked on some assignments! Then we got home and enjoyed our day and we opened our advent calendar and got a cool Pokemon figurine (honestly I do not know the name since some of them are hard to identify and pronounce lol) but it's only 10 days until Christmas! I am so excited! But today made me smile!

Wednesday, 12/11/24 - today instead of immediately starting on my work in the first period I went down to student services to see if I was testing with Mrs. Barlow but they just told me to go to the main office and then the main office told me to go to Mrs. Barlow office lol so a lot of moving then I had gone down to her office and we talked about the test and several other things it was a pretty interesting talk and I did like getting information on the topic and she said she,ll schedule me sometime next week! And today is my ceremony I am so excited and cannot wait for it! I headed back to the first period and worked on the rest of my online assignment and then I worked on a project that we should be presenting Friday! Then in the second period, we had gotten a review sheet to do and I had done it mostly then in the third we worked on a blood analysis lab and dropped fake blood from several different heights and had to graph it and I suck at graphs! But I got it done and my group was very funny so it wasn't too bad then in Mrs. Churches we had just worked on a few assignments and watched a few videos they were very weird LOL but we enjoyed them. Then when we got home we saw Mom on the couch just sleeping and then I got ready for my ceremony at 6:00Pm. And before leaving we heard that our mom hurt her back! And couldn't go! It was a bummer but I kissed her on the forehead and we headed out! On the way there there was a beautiful sunset! And it was so gorgeous and then there was the pretty moon as well! So my grandpa came to visit as well! Shortly after I sat down and they congratulated people for making the event possible and all the teachers and then they congratulated all the inductees and then we got to go up on stage and get an award! I was so excited and very happy and then we all participated in our speech on the back of our certificate lol it was funny and cool and then we sat down again and just heard the rest of the speeches and then we got yummy cupcakes! Which were so good then we got some free stuff from colleges and then we went home and we had a nice calm night it was an awesome but so tiring day!

Thursday, 12/12/24 - Today I worked more on my project and got it complete then I watched some videos and headed on to second period where we were warned of a test on Friday, and then we did a worksheet and I got it done shortly after int third period we had worked more on our graph and a report of what we had done but apparently my graph was wrong and the most information she gave me was a slap on her face which is the best information possible… then in Mrs churches class we had had a talk with mrs churches parents about marriage and how they're like and how they met they were very nice people and very funny we did enjoy asking them questions and talking to them! Then we we worked on an assignment and continued on home we had a fun time waiting out in the frigid cold LOL and then we went home and enjoyed our day home it was nice and relaxing! And today made me smile

Friday, 12/13/24 - today we had totally overslept and it was 7:30 we went out to the bus stop at 7:40 and Willam and Donny were able to catch the bus but I wasn't so I stayed home I got to just chill and watch several Pokemon videos lol, every December me and my brother get in the mood of watching so many pokemon videos lol, then I had just chilled for a while and had made me some yummy turkey sandwiches which I hadn't had in a while and they were so good! When Dad came home I had to make him 4 turkey sandwiches and then later I had to help him with the inflatables outside which we put up every year! It wasn't too cold out thankfully and it was not that difficult but I liked setting them up we talked for a few and just had nice conversations, shortly later they came home and we just enjoyed and talked the entire afternoon it wasn't too bad of a day and we did enjoy it and it made me smile!

Saturday, 12/14/24 - it's the first day of the weekend, and today Mom is in an organizing mood! She has been organizing near her TV area and has just been in a pretty good mood today we got to chill and hang out for most of the day and we are pumped for the newest mythical island in Pokemon TGC pocket to be released! We cannot wait to see what it has to offer!, shortly later we have done so many battles since I want to get to 500 solo battles which is a crazy goal and so far I've been battling all day LOL, and I'm not getting tired yet lol, fast forwarding a lot of the day we had a great day I battled so many times and we did enjoy the first day of the weekend.

Sunday, 12/15/24 - today our mom is organizing again, and thankfully she is in a good mood we have been helping her on and off with her TV area, it hasn't been hard but it has been a lot of stuff we still had continued battling as I'm so close to the goal! And I'm very excited to reach the goal! I uploaded a video to another channel and it started to blow up which surprised me! But sadly this is the last day before we go to school! But we only had this last week and then were off for Christmas break!! I'm so excited and now it's night I've been hanging out and just casually battling and I finally unlocked the gold solo battle award!!! I am so happy and so proud of myself considering I had to do over 200 battles for the goal lol but it was well worth it and I cannot wait for the new set without further ado thanks so much for reading! And now for the most important question?!

What made you smile this week?

Img desc #1: doc is seen smiling while looking slightly terrified lol she is wearing a pink long-sleeved hoodie.

Img desc #2: doc is seen in a restaurant looking very shocked she is seen wearing a brown long-sleeve shirt while sitting in her electric chair.

Img desc #3: Donny is seen in a standing frame he is making a shocked face while wearing a grey long-sleeved jacket and short-sleeved beige colored shirt he has a black chest strap over his chest.

Img desc #4: shows doc smiling while at dinner she is wearing a pink short-sleeved buttoned shirt with her hands and arms propped up in a certain way (she does this cause she has a weak jaw) there is a plate of pasta near her legs and her electric wheelchair.

Img desc #5: shows Doc and Emmie smiling doc is seen wearing a grey short-sleeved shirt, green baggy sweatpants, and a brown beanie she is sitting in her electric wheelchair Emmie is seen right beside Doc is seen wearing a light green short-sleeved shirt, and blue jeans she is smiling while in her manual wheelchair.

Img desc #6: Donny is seen looking in another direction with a stern look on his face he is sitting in his electric wheelchair while wearing a checkered red and black sleeveless sweater underneath the sweater he has a stripped long sleeved buttoned shirt and black pants or shorts his hand is resting on his armrest he is wearing a cool shades with a little yellow flower on the side of the sunglasses.

[spaciousreasoning]

An Early Dinner

Another chilly and foggy day in Springfield and Eugene. And probably other parts of Oregon as well. It’s that time of year.

My blood sugar was up to 143 this morning, only one point higher. Which isn’t bad. After our coffee and brain games we had cheesy eggs and toast and jam for breakfast.

I took a few minutes to updating the city rankings pages for the ABRS site. Then we went out for kitty litter, wet and dry cat food, and more grocery items from Market of Choice on Willakenzie and Trader Joe’s on Coburg. Then we stopped by Jerry’s in Springfield for fatwood, grow lights and key covers.

When we got home, we unloaded the car. Then I went out at 2:35 p.m. for a walk of 2.29 miles. It took 42 minutes, with an average pace of 18:21 per mile. There were 5,200 steps. It was my first “walk” since Thanksgiving Day. It was right around 45 degrees and there was still enough fog we could not see the hills to the south of us.

Meanwhile, Nancy was getting “dinner” together, baking the lasagna and roasting some veggies. We ate at about 4 p.m. because I did not want to wait until after tonight’s recovery meeting to eat, and we had not had anything since breakfast. It was also nice to have dinner while there was still some sunlight. A bit later, Nancy and I split one of the chocolate truffles we bought yesterday.

We got an email bill overnight from the rental company, after already having paid the December rent. I figured it was probably an error, since the date was the same as when we signed the original lease last year. I called the agency to clear it up, and the agent called back almost immediately to say it was, indeed, an error and it was being taken care of right away. Hurrah!

We napped briefly, then vacuumed the living room rug. I also took a few minutes to find and add another PNW photographer to the Tumbling Pixel list.

I took off for the Tuesday men’s recovery meeting a little after 6 p.m., stopping to pick up and take Henry D. along with me. Rich was celebrating 20 years in the program, and he shared his story.

It was about 8:30 when I made it home from the meeting, and we streamed last night’s Colbert, which featured Daniel Craig. Then we watched another episode of “Coroner,” which was more than a little strange.

Before going to bed, we prepared some of the food we will take with us tomorrow on our “crabbing” trip with Anne and Joe to the Newport area. We’ll be getting up early, dressing very warmly, and heading out by 8 a.m. to reach their house and get our adventure started.

[radioisntdead]

I was catching up with your posts and...

"He (Barnaby) does not crave flesh like his predecessor"

Pardon?- It is not recommended by dietitians or in fact most doctors for any animals to be fed your very limited supply of human flesh (even if they beg with that face).

Good evening my dear! My bad I should've clarified! Barnaby's predecessor, Buttercup [Lord rest his soul because all dog's go to heaven no matter what.]

Didn't consume directly flesh [although he did taste blood years ago, from me because when I was younger I would get injured and not realize I was bleeding until he started licking me.] but he DID try on multiple occasions to kill my best friend, and sometimes me if I didn't share my midnight snacks with him.

My best friend, love the dude but my dearest friend pissed off buttercup by flipping him off and bothering him during his nap when we were eleven, since then he had it out for them, I would leave my room to use the restroom at night and come back to him trying to suffocate them in their sleep, multiple times, my mom walked in on him trying to do the same to me a couple of times.

We also theorized that he could teleport [he would show up OUT OF NOWHERE] and may or may not have been homophobic, although that last part is unlikely I think he just had it out for my dear friend.

He was a very spiteful dog, he was part Chihuahua and part terrier, he had beef with my sister's children [honestly so valid] I got him when I was about 5 or 6 so I grew up with him until he left us this past December.

Also for the months following his peaceful passing away I heard his paw steps and he had a very specific spot on the stairs I saw him there a couple of times, [IT WASN'T A HALLUCINATION BECAUSE MY PARENTS HEARD/SAW HIM TOO]

He stopped showing up after we got Barnaby, I think he knows that I'll be safe with Barnaby, He was a grumpy slightly murdery dog but he was very sweet.

he was a very very treasured member of this family, he was my best friend and I'll always miss him, I have some of his ashes in a bracelet and it lowkey freaks aforementioned dear friend out, said friend also wants to make me into a necklace if I die before them.

He would've bullied Barnaby though, Barnaby is a big dog, where Buttercup was like twenty pounds Barnaby is 80 and Buttercup would've BULLIED HIM

Anyways this is Buttercup, this was taken back in 2022, He passed when he was about 16?? He was close in age to me, we stopped feeding him dog food in like 2020 because at first I would have to HANDFEED him the soft stuff then he refused to eat that but would eat human food no trouble, and my parents were like "yeah he's probably going to pass away soon so just let him eat our food"

He infact, lasted longer then they thought, he was very spoiled.

He's sleeping peacefully here

And his little brother Barnaby because I haven't posted him in a while

Barnaby at the dog park!

Fun fact! We got both of them from the same rescue!

[moonday333]

10 of coins and our elders

Originally posted on December 12,2023

Lately the 10 of coins has been following me around. This card in the Rider-Wright tarot deck depicts an older man sitting down looking out towards a large home and grounds while another younger man stands guard while speaking to a woman with a child clinging to her skirt. We perceive through this imagery that this older man is looking onto what his hard work has brought him and how through him his family now will be able to live a comfortable life. It represents wealth, abundance and legacy.

While reading for myself I had assumed that this card was asking me to sit and mediate on what I want my future to look like. I thought that it asked of me to be a lot more diligent and think about my own legacy. Although, while meditating I could not get my abuela and my childhood out of my head. It’s something I’ve been avoiding to really sit and think about for various reasons yet I found myself not being able to push the thoughts down this time.

Growing up I loved to dig up old family pictures and sit for hours looking through them. I loved to see pictures of my mother and uncle growing up and listen to my abuela talk about the moments those pictures where taken. She would always get this far away look and her eyes would shine as if she was transported back to those memories.

My abuela now has dementia and a lot of these memories are starting to slowly fade away. I am watching her slowly become a shell of the woman she used to be. It’s something I have not really come to terms with and I don’t really know how to deal with either. It’s not something I ever thought could happen to someone I perceived to be so strong.

I fear that maybe I took some of our time together for granted and that I won’t ever manage to muster up the courage to sit with her and just listen to what she has to say. I fear that she will die before I ever get over myself and manage to sit down with her. I fear that all her wisdom and knowledge will be lost just because we, her family, are to afraid to face the truth of our new reality with her.

It’s not that we don’t make an effort to be with her, but to me it all feels so superficial. I don’t see us really making an effort to try and get to know her beyond what she has already given us. I know she loves to talk about her childhood and her family and it’s not something I think we ask her about enough. Any chance she gets she will go on and on about how her father owned a ‘finca’ and how her siblings and her would pick coffee when they were younger. She will tell this story over and over again to most people that she meets. At first I found the repetition annoying but now I’m starting to savor these moments. Now I understand that moments like this are a dwindling currency that one day will cese to exist.

I feel shame those moments where I find it hard to face her. This woman has given blood, sweat and tears to bring up this family and the least we can do is carry her legacy. At the end of the day, through the good and the bad, Hilda I. Alvarez Alicea has been there for so many of us without asking anything back in return. She was the one who taught me how to love. I am who I am because this woman has loved us all so hard that she has given her life in the name of it. She has lived in service to others her entire life and the least we can do is to be of service to her now when she needs us most. Even now she refuses to put down her broom and I know that taking it away would be like taking one of her limbs. It has been so hard for her to relay on others the way we have relied on her and I just wish that one day she will accept our help without giving us reasons not to.

To age and see yourself as someone unable to fend for themselves is not an easy thing. One day we will find that out for ourselves but until then it’s our responsibility to look after our elders the best we can. I’ve noticed how in the west the practice of caring for our elders is seen as a burden. We are so obsessed with youth that aging is seen as a sin and our elders are the ones who pay the price. Youth is fleeting and to be in this world long enough to age should be celebrated and revered. There is so much we can learn through aging and experiencing this world. What will be of us if we don’t start to care for our elders now?

Not to blame capitalism for everything but Karl Marx noted how one of the key components of capitalism is isolation. We have forgotten what it’s like to truly live in community. We have forgotten how to care for each other. It’s truly up to us to take charge and start to slowly bring back these core values. We have seen the legacy that our parents and grandparents have left us and how much it’s harming us and our world, it’s our turn now to leave our mark. If we listen to our elders and learn our history we won’t make the same mistakes they did. We are capable of so much beautiful change. Don’t underestimate how much one little action can make a big difference. It all starts at home.

With love,

Korah 🌟

[liniestlink]

First Story

I posted this on my cohost first and will remain posting every writing I do there first and then sending it over to here at a later date.

A story I wrote in early high school fresh after reading A Clockwork Orange and you can tell, I went through, edited, and changed a few things but this is still the same story I wrote so many years ago. It is not good, you have been warned!

Date wrote: December 17, 2014

So… this is the story of a little incident that occurred about over two months ago, I wasn’t able to reflect on the incident until now due to personal connections so- please bear with me as I relive this event. It all started on January 4th, 1994, it was a rather chilly night as me and a friend were strolling down an alley as per-usual; we would stumble around and kick things just being carefree juveniles. Now none of this is to care for but I’m foretelling what has happened leading up to that day. I came over to my friend for no reason at all and struck him--- He looked at me dazed and confused and in a calm tone spoke to me in disfigured words. I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying because to be truthful I didn’t give a damn. So, after he put himself together, he got up and left; I smirked at the sight of his back to me, this was a sign that I had taken down yet another coward.

I sat alone in the cold as I looked back at the events that had just occurred, I snickered and checked my watch it read “twelve twenty-five” I slowly got up and finally decided maybe I should be on my way. I arrived at the shack of a home that I partake of slumbering in around one in the morning of course no-one was home. I went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of some mischievous liquids and went on my way to bed. I awoke late into the night to a loud thump; I spoke to myself “Blasted idiots can’t they be quite when they come home” I go downstairs and to my surprise it wasn’t my parents, It was the friend of mine who I had recently ruffed up, in his hands smashing my stuff was a bat and at that moment I knew it was going to be a long night. I slowly walked in front of him “what are you doing in my house you dirty skunk” he replied in such hatred “I’m going to teach you not to mess with the great Attila he then attempted to strike me down but to his sad effort I laughed and spit on it. “The great Attila, ha what a sad name but it fits a fool like yourself so come make a mockery of yourself, I’m begging you.” This enraged the young fool as he charged this time... But I was mistaken for where he was swinging and found the bat on my knee, the pain was tremendous, and I fell onto my other knee.

He was quick to strike again and hit me upon my head and I dropped like a bag of bricks as he continued to beat me with the bat to a bloody mess. This was my last moment as he turned around so I reacted I slowly rose up and grabbed him by the shirt… the air then filled with a mixture of red to be exact, it didn’t take long for the night to go by but when I awoke the kid was gone leaving his filthy blood on my stuff; I must of got him real good I smirked at the thought of the bleeding limping fool. I slowly pushed myself up and grabbed my side in pain, I removed my hand and noticed it was drenched in red I winced and then slowly walked towards the door and swung it open; I stumbled around outside for about ten minutes before I collapsed in some random yard as I turned the snow around me red… it wasn’t long before the day went dark. I awoke inside a house freshly bandaged confused, dazed and not wanting the cops to find me I get up and head out of the stranger's door back out into the day, I glance at my wound bandaged now and thought a grateful thought but brushed it off in a matter of seconds. I didn’t need the help if I would have died, I would have died it didn’t mean any difference to me I rather be dead then live in such a dreadful world as I live in now but if I were to die it would be by someone else’s hand as death by my own would be a cowardly move. Since I was slashed last, days have gone by, I’ve done nothing. Its January 9th here and the new year is fresh and already filled with misery, but I believe it’s going to get worse from here on out and boy was I right but at first it wasn’t. As usual I walked to the old gas stand to pick up some milk and a little pint of the ol’ mischievous liquid. Now this isn’t what was eye catching about today as it was usual for me but what did catch my eye was a rather familiar face at first, I didn’t recognize the young fool and I imagine he either didn’t see me or was scared but it was the boy who gave me this dreadful gash. I could have attacked him right in the store but I rather not have witnesses so I will wait to find him and then the snow will be lined in his filthy blood just like it was with mine only a few days ago. So, I’ve been thinking what I will do and use to carry out my lovely act… oh boy the thoughts and ideas fill me with joy and delight.

A couple of days have passed since the run-in but nonetheless here we are surprisingly not rotting in jail, yet. It was a rather cool day especially for it being January, the wind was light, and the snowflakes drifted ever so kindly. It seems like a perfect day, but I haven’t had my way with that fool. I walked over to where I wanted to go. It was at the gas pump store a few days ago, I went in and bought some potato crisps and another bottle of that fine mischievous liquids this one had a fantastic smell like grapes to be exact. I walked outside and, on my way home in the alley I noticed someone just sitting, I wore a devious smirk and walked into the alley; maybe this wasn’t who I was after but either way the fun was coming. So, I walked up to this fool and roughed him up a bit, stealing the little cash he had and this lovely watch he had, now the fun was cut short when he yelped loudly, so I took off not taking a chance of ending up in the local jail. I was very cheerful after that today was a very cheerful day, I danced and sang on my way home with dried red on my knuckles and the biggest smirk on my face oh boy oh boy was today turning out to be one swell of a day. I arrived home around five and settled in on the sofa looking up gazing at the ceiling, that was the last thing I saw before I dazed off into slumber for the next few hours.

So, I awoke after a long night on the eve of January 15th. It was a Sunday and the Friday before stirred up some fools speaking of bad mojo as if a silly thing like mojo even existed such naive fools. I ran into that agitating idiot Attila and oh boy was today a great day to stop his chest from flowing. As you might have guessed, yes, he’s gone, and I could be in a few days if the cops catch on, but they’re fools, we will see how this all pans out. It was a Sunday and I was by the stream, this is where it happen I ran up on the poor Attila while fishing he noticed me right away, He looked at me and smirked “come back for more eh’” I walked slowly to him “You won’t be walking nor breathing any longer” so he got up and pulled out a pocket knife, I knew that if I didn’t end him here I wasn’t going to come back from this one. We walked in a circle staring each other down, it didn’t take long for him to lunge and get me good, really good to be exact his blade was now completely red and I was in a painful situation but he must have thought he won which was a huge mistake as I lunged onto him grabbing his arm and pushing his head underwater. I then held it there for minutes after he stopped moving, after I pulled him out, I smirked and began kicking him, for the final touch, I took his knife and jammed it into his chest.

January 19th, it took them long enough, but they found the trash that I left behind and now it was all over the news, but being the great person I am, I seemed to have left no evidence this time, so I watch and laugh at their pitiful efforts. The coppers did come to talk today but oddly it wasn’t for questioning of the murder but oddly enough it was if I was doing fine, now this is rather odd seeing on how there was a murder recently that I was involved in, maybe they suspect me. My suspicions were greatened through the past few days as they continuously stopped by to check on me, I knew what I had to do; I had to leave or be sent to jail and have a rather miserable life from here on out. Today is January 20th. I’m going to go out and buy some supplies such as food before I go to Ukaly where a friend awaits me. He promises to help me out seeing as I’m in a bit of trouble. It could be a day or two before I report again if I ever do it again.

So… I believe it’s January 23rd and my suspicions were correct; I should have just gone to jail it would have been a lot better than what happened. So, let’s recount on the events that took place the last three days, well on January 21st I arrived in Ukaly and stayed at my friend’s house. Now when things turned sour, he was the least person I would suspect to push me to the ground but he did, maybe I deserve all that’s happened this month for the things I’ve done… too late to turn back now what happened, happened. I stayed at my friend’s house that night and that wasn’t it as on January 22nd I was forced out and beaten by him… I don’t know why this happened from what I remember I didn’t do him wrong… well not to him personally. I may have did something unspeakable to a family member of his, his sister to be exact, that’s it then the world is turning on me for the bad I have done maybe it’s trying to force me to change but that’s not how this works; try to change me it won’t work not even with karma I’ll just strike back harder.

It's January 24th. I left Ukaly after I paid my old pal a visit. You should have seen his face as I stood there beating it in with a pipe; his screams filled me with such delight. I left him lying there barely breathing. Now I’m not the bad guy here, he was most indefinitely asking for the beating, you never provoke your superior. Now that there was nowhere left to go, I decided to go back to where it all started, I was going back home where I should have stayed all this time. I took off from Ukaly the day I beat that fool to death and arrived home on January 25th back to the pitiful town of Besharan’ my hometown, I waited outside the city limits till night fell just in case the police were still after me (if they even were in the first place.)

The police were waiting for me in my house to apprehend me and take me off to the brig. Look at this, the month is nearly over, and I have to spend it in jail, there is no sign of life in this cell just cold and the void of darkness. I wonder how long I’ll be here; I can’t take it in this dreadful place. Jail isn’t the place for me to be, I can’t do what I wish to do anymore, hopefully I get off with a fine of some sort seeing as this all happened in self-defense technically.

Hello, my good people, sorry to bring you such fright, I know I was a little late. I had the most wonderful time and now five vessels lay ready to be shipped off. I won’t go into too great of detail seeing as I got a little carried away, the initial plan was for only one or maybe two and come describe them full on but seeing as there’s a few more I’ll just give a brief explanation of each. So first off let’s start with the young lass I got to know, I may have enjoyed her to much especially after the eyes rolled out; sadly, for her family they won’t recognize her anymore poor little girl you were fun while it lasted. Now for the next unlucky visitor his name was Ronald he actually was off work at the time I meet him, the poor miserable man, something rose in me after I got rid of him, a disgusting feeling in me, what’s wrong?

I’m sorry, it is now January 29th and after these few days of silence, I don’t feel the same anymore, I feel a sickness deep within myself and I don’t know what to do. Is this what guilt feels like? I don’t know how much longer I can allow this feeling to eat at me, maybe some hard medication can help ease this feeling and I can go back to how I used to be. It’s now one thirty in the morning and I’m shaking the images of people I have hurt keep flowing into my mind and my stomach continues to grow uneasily… this feeling is swallowing me alive and there seems to be no escape; even the countless pills don’t help me. How could I have these feelings? It’s not natural I shouldn’t have these regrets they deserved what happened to them! Maybe I just need sleep… maybe it will all go away in time… these images though are eating away at me.

It’s January 30th approximately nine twenty-five, I had a decent sleep, and the images only flooded my dreams once, it turns out that my sleep deprivation was causing these dreaded hallucinations; I am fine once more and due to by health I will have to go out and make these two days’ worth it. Those dammed images came back… I don’t know what’s happening my mind is racing and I’m struggling ever so greatly to cope with it… I don’t know how much longer I can hang on… my regrets and guilt are building up… I believe if I don’t get help that I’m going to fall and collapse… please my people I need the help… please… your superior is begging for your assistance.

January 31st…... January is ending, and I believe I have as well… I can’t hang on any longer. I finally have been consumed by regret… the horrible…dreadful things that I have done. I don’t deserve to belong to this world; ungrateful scum is what I am. Imagine this a person like me thought so high of himself now at his breaking point, this in the end tells you that even ruthless people such as myself have breaking points. Why did it have to come now…? I enjoyed myself the most at this time of the year… whatever be the case, I can’t take it anymore. I haven’t slept for hours upon hours and when I try, I see the horrid faces of victims of my acts. In the end I was right I am going to fall and collapse for people to watch… Goodbye my friends and now out the window I go into the soft ground cover in sheets of snow.

A Detective’s Afterthoughts

After about three to four days the cops found out who the man the leaped from the window was… it was a nineteen-year-old named Boyd Richards, he had a troublesome past and seemed to suffer from delusions. His parents have been dead since he was three, I believe this could have something to do with what he did but, in the end, he was just another killer. Goodbye now Detective Armistead takes his leave- stay safe out there, this case may be closed but I believe it’s far from being over even with Boyd dead.

[nashvillehq]

name: Gemma Jones Devereux gender & pronouns: Cis Woman | She/her age & date of birth: 31 years old | December 27th, 1991 neighborhood: Downtown time living in nashville: 31 years (whole life) occupation: Singer and songwriter with Deverocks Records

BACKGROUND.

TW: child neglect, alcoholism, drug use

Ahead of the birth of his second child, his father was convinced they were having a boy - absolutely desperate for a son, who he was planning to name George Jones Devereux in homage to one of his favorite starts. On December 27th, 1991, Gemma Jones Devereux was born at Ascension Saint Thomas Hospital West, the second Devereux daughter, three years younger than her sister Maggie. Born into the Devereux empire and looking every bit as blonde and blue eyed as her mother, Gemma can remember her earliest memories of the sparkling lights of Broadway in and the bright lights of the spotlights that shone down on her when her father would bring her out onstage and hoist her onto his hip at the end of a show. Back then, everyone cooed and fawned over the Devereux children at their parents shows and signings, and Gemma was happily toted along like a little show pony, as if one of her mother's greatest accomplishments was producing adorable little children (it wasn't a surprise then, that three more siblings followed).

Gemma’s early life was playing backstage at her parents shows and loving all the attention she got from her parents’ fans. She couldn't distinctly remember when she really caught onto her parents substance abuse, or the first time she distinctly thought "my parents shouldn’t say that to us," but by the time she was in the second grade, she was keenly aware of the way her mother's moods swung like a pendulum, the way she could get angry over anything, and the way her anger wasn't taken out on anyone rationally, just whichever one of the children was closest. She could plainly see that Maggie, her oldest sister, took way more of her mother's aggression than any of their siblings, and when she thought about it, she realized that it was quite possible that Gemma herself was on the receiving end of the least amount of her mother's anger and manipulation, although even she got her fair share.

There were always comments (mostly from her mother) about which little Devereux would grow up to be the very best, who would be the best singer? who would grow up to take over Deverocks? It was dangled in their faces like candy, and, to Gemma, she took that to understand that she had to be the very best… at everything. Whether it was because she'd grown up in Maggie's shadow or because she was simply driven, Gemma tried hard at everything. She got stellar grades in school, was a varsity swimming all of high school, and, most importantly, she could sing and write music. She’d been singing and performing since she remembered, guided her mother and obediently following along to all the lessons she was sent to.

She didn’t expect to be signed to Deverocks at 17 years old, before even her sister had - but that was their mother, constantly trying to pit her children against each other, particularly her two oldest girls. Gemma signed the dotted line, realizing her life was going to change forever, and even knowing that, she couldn’t have been prepared for what her life became. Gone were her dreams of going to an Ivy League or getting a swim scholarship in college - she didn’t even go to college. Instead, Deverocks capitalized on her as America’s Sweetheart, a young, sweet country girl with Country Music Hall of Fame in her blood.

It wasn’t that Gemma didn’t like the success- she did, but was it what she wanted? She couldn’t say. She liked singing, she loved touring, and she knew she was doing well at Deverocks, but the underlying turmoil of her family was something she could never escape. Above all, while Gemma was pumping out album after album- she was observing the business, making connections, and trying to figure out how, if she could, make sure her siblings and herself could escape the toxicity in their family and skirt out from under the pressure of one day possibly owning Deverocks Records. She knows she’s doing better and better with every album, but at the same time, part of her knows she could do more, could do better. She wants more control over her career, more than she has a Deverocks. She wants to write more, she wants to do other things, branch out into pop and see how successful she can really be. But that would mean leaving Deverocks Records for a competitor, which is a move that she knows would change her life forever once again.