#do you enjoy this glimpse into my mind prison? hmm? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sserpente · 5 years ago

Photo

A/N: Request from @ilikebritsandbands. Here’s your long awaited Jack Sparrow fluff! ♥ I don’t know if this Imagine is historically correct but… let’s ignore that, savvy?

Words: 1616 Warnings: fluff, mentions of forced marriage

Fate was cruel—not as cruel as your father but cruel nonetheless. You refused to give up; you believed in your freedom. The more it was taken away from you, the more you fought for it.

They had attacked at night, taking gold, jewellery, expensive garments and other treasures. Pirates you had read so many stories about as a child. And all of your struggling, biting and scratching had been in vain when they took you, throwing you over their shoulder and carrying you back to a ship with black sails like a piece of furniture.

Your home was a prison. A safe and clean place your father kept you in until you could marry you off to an old and rich man for social reputation. The pirates expected a juicy ransom for your freedom—but by now, you had long left the haven and were sailing in midst of the seven seas, far away from help and civilisation.

At least they hadn’t thrown you into one of the dirty cells or tied you to the mast for the crew to gape at you like hungry animals. In fact… in fact the pirates who had taken you were by far the most peculiar bunch you had ever met—especially their Captain.

None of them were exceptionally cruel or ruthless. They made sure you had water and food, had even given you a coat so you would not freeze. The first mate—Gibbs, you believed he was called—had even apologised for all the inconvenience. You had almost laughed out loud.

You had been counting the days since your abduction, of course. Halloween was coming up, tonight. Back when your mother was still alive, you had always carved pumpkins and lit them up with candles, then cooked pumpkin cream soup and baked pumpkin pies together. You missed the times you were young, free and careless.

Now, you weren’t even on firm ground anymore. Around you, masses of salt water expanding all the way to the horizon and beyond it.

“Ha! Found me another bottle of rum, luv!” Jack grinned when he entered the Captain’s cabin, strutting into the small room proudly.

Your smile was sad. Jack Sparrow was a strange fellow. A pirate with a criminal history, yes, but also a man with a good heart. Besides, he was really handsome. You’d rather get betrothed to him than this greasy old man your father had chosen for you.

Jack had spent hours studying old maps last night. He was onto something—and whenever he was onto something, he would drink half of the ship’s rum supplies. He uncorked it with a silent pop, then handed it to you before sitting back down at his wooden desk.

“Ladies first?”

You shook your head with pursed lips. The taste of rum was disgusting. You did enjoy the occasional glass of wine when dining with your father but rum was too strong, too intense. Jack shrugged and took a big gulp himself. You did not realise you were still watching him until his dark eyes locked with yours.

“Why the long face, luv?”

You shook your head once more. “I’m homesick.” You admitted. What you did not expect was the hint of compassion and pity reflecting in his expression.

“We’ll be back in a week’s time. Yer journey will end if yer father agrees to our terms and conditions.” He remarked with a grin.

You snorted. “I don’t even know if I want to go back there. My father means to marry me off to some rich snot thrice my age.” But you knew Jack wouldn’t just let you go without getting anything out of it himself—and if one of your father’s servants was awaiting the Black Pearl to hand over the gold and pick you up, being trapped in your room until your wedding would be no better than being trapped on a ship.

“Sorry, luv. Yer welcome to stay with me, too. Wouldn’t mind the company. Gibbs always says having a woman on board is bad luck I think it’s worse without them.” He suggested with a smirk, taking another sip of his rum.

You refused to admit you were actually considering this. Perhaps one day, you would be able to go your own way either way.

“Where are we docking tonight? You said we would be filling up supplies.” You said instead.

“Tortuga.”

“Tortuga? The… the pirate haven?”

“The very same.”

Your face distorted. You had heard stories about Tortuga. Bad stories. That’s what came with travelling with pirates, even if it was against your will.

“C’mon, luv. What can I do to put a smile on yer face?” You snorted.

“You could take me to a farmer to buy a pumpkin.”

Jack blinked, entirely taken aback. “A pumpkin, luv?”

“Yes. A pumpkin, to carve for Halloween. It’s coming up.”

The pirate looked at you like you had just stolen his beloved ship, eliciting a giggle from you. “Yer want to do what?”

“It’s called a Jack O’Lantern. To scare away evil winter spirits.”

Jack pouted into his rum bottle. “Could use some of that… So yer want me to buy you a pumpkin, luv?”

“Or steal one. Whatever it is you pirates do in situations like that.” The Captain grinned cheekily. “In return, I could make some pies with the guts?” Jack still looked a little disturbed. Usually, women would ask for jewellery or dresses… not pumpkins. But eventually, he agreed.

Tortuga wasn’t by far as scary as you had imagined it would be. There were drunks and prostitutes, yes, and people throwing insults and bottles at each other… and it smelled like urine, alcohol and smoke but apart from that… you had expected much worse.

Instinctively, when you passed a group of men who walked past bellowing obscene things at you, you grabbed Jack’s hand and held it tightly, causing him to wrap his arm around you and keep you close.

Ironic, really. Instead of trying to get away from your captor, you were getting even closer to him.

“Yer alright there, luv? I’m quite known here. Yer have nothing to worry about, savvy?”

Well. Last time he had said this somebody had slapped him in the face mere moments after.

“There’s a grocery farmer right around the corner. Yer pick yer pumpkin quickly, toss him a coin and then we leave.” He warned you contritely.

“I pick the pumpkin?”

“It’s not me pumpkin, luv. As long as I get me pie.” Jack had the audacity to wink—and for some peculiar reason, your heart sped up unlike it ever had when meeting with your future husband. “And I owe him money…” He added quietly.

You giggled once more—not just because you were not surprised but also because as soon as you had purchased your pumpkin��the biggest and most beautiful one you could find—Jack Sparrow looked downright adorable carrying it back to the ship all by himself where the crew was already waiting for him to leave the haven again.

On deck, you got to work right away, earning you a few confused glances as you began carving a spooky face into the pumpkin with a dagger Marty had lent you and collected the sticky guts in a bucket. Something… something felt oddly strange as you set foot on the wooden ship again, the gentle waves beneath your soles somewhat familiar and reassuring.

Jack raised an eyebrow at you when you finished and grabbed some candles to place them inside the hollow pumpkin, lighting it up and promising to the crew how adorable your little creation would look at nightfall. But he only shrugged, suppressing an amused smirk. It was rather easy, making you happy. In some aspects, you reminded him of Elizabeth. A polite gentlewoman but not up the creek without a paddle upon being ripped from wealthy life… if he didn’t plan on collecting his ransom for you and drop you off back at your father’s… he’d even consider keeping you by his side; if you wanted to.

Singing an old Halloween song to yourself, you made your way to the ship’s kitchen to make those pumpkin pies you had promised Jack. It was only when you shoved it in the giant oven Gibbs had to help you heat up, you realised just what was so different. You didn’t feel like a prisoner anymore.

Jack was treating you gently, like a crew member with privileges. No one was cruel, no one was heartless… and now he had even bought a pumpkin for you.

“Me pumpkin pies ready yet, luv?” He appeared behind you, slurring a little. Only God knew how many bottles of rum they had taken with them from Tortuga. Greedily, Jack reached for one of the treats—and promptly cursed loudly as he tossed it in the air repeatedly until it had cooled down a little.

“Ow! Hot!”

“Jack…” You began when he took a bite, chuckling when he started moaning. “Jack?”

“Buying you that pumpkin was a good investment, luv.”

“I’m glad you think so… Jack?”

“Hmm?” He took another bite, already reaching for the next pie in the process.

“What happens when my father pays you the ransom?”

The pirate immediately stopped chewing.

“Yer not gonna go back to yer husband, hmm?” You shook your head in response.

“I… it’s not so bad here. Sailing with you…” And you slowly felt like living on the ship, sailing the seven seas was not deprivation of freedom after all… but much rather the incarnation of freedom itself.

Jack grinned. “In that case… welcome on board, me luv.” You smiled when he bit into the next pumpkin pie.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

#jack sparrow #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow x you #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow fluff #captain jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow imagine #captain jack sparrow x you #captain jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow fluff #potc #potc imagine #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the caribbean imagine #johnny depp

1K notes · View notes

m0chisenpai · 5 years ago

Text

Red

Warning: sexual themes, mentions of demons

Series: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Pairing: Amrbose Spellmen x demon!Reader

There was a time in Ambrose’s life during his home imprisonment where the loneliness drove him near insanity. Pair that with his sexual needs, the boy was bound to find any way to make him forget the passing times.

His fingers feverishly paged through the old book until his eyes found just wha he was looking for.

Incubi. Sex demons, that feed off the sexual energy of any being. They held no true form and can choose to shift freely as they please. They only appear if hungry. Beware as mortals have met their fatality due to spending many nights with a starving incubus

He quickly set up the candles and drew the symbol in the middle of his room reading the incantation from the spell book. As he spoke he felt the temperature in the room spiked and the candles blew out lighting back up with red hot flames.

From the symbol the most beautiful woman appeared before his eyes. The one thing that gave off her demon nature were the horns from her head and flicking tail that poked from her tail bone.

She wore a delicious leather red harness set and had painted red lips were fixed in a smirk as she stepped toward the warlock. Her tongue licked over her pearly fangs as she came to stand over him.

“Mmm, you called me just in time warlock.” her voice purred sending shivers down the mans spine. “I was just in need of a good feeding, and you will be providing me with a very much needed meal.”

With each word she slowly pushed the gaping man onto the bed while she straddled him grinding down into him.

“Do you prefer I look like this?” she then waved a hand over his eyes and now straddled a handsome man “or do you prefer this?”

“Hmm, the form you appeared in. Though this one I will look forward to another time.”

“Very well, and what will your pleasure be?”

“Surprise me pet.”

“Very well then, master.” She slide off the mans lap, and ran her hands down his robs top till they were at the ties pulling them loose. She took his cock into her hands rubbing it slowly and a pink ring surrounded the base.

“Just a little something you’ll come to enjoy.” She smirked taking a long kitten lick up the shaft

to the tip. She suckled the top humming around it hungrily and Ambrose swore for a moment he saw a mere glimpse of what heaven was. His hands gripped the sheets so tightly his knuckles must of turned white and head fell back as he did his best to hold his body up.

“Mmmm give it to me, I can feel you all built up master. Let it all out.” Her words vibrated around his cock and the man let out deep throaty moans and with one hard dug and hallowed cheeks she squeezed a orgasm out that made the warlock nearly shout.

She hummed slowly pulling her mouth off not letting a single drop spill, With hooded eyes he watched the smirking demon lay her chin on his lap. His cock did not soften but still stood tall and hard.

“You aren’t spent yet are you? That was merely a snack to get me started.”

He smirked looping his finger through her collar and yanked her up “don’t fret pet. I’ll take care of your little hunger.”

From that day on Amrbrose summoned the demoness nearly every night. The sex was something beyond his mind. She would take different shapes and forms both masculine, feminine, or doing a mixture. All which he thoroughly enjoyed and indulged himself in.

She even conjured up multiple versions of herself to perform orgies, or brought other sex demons to take the warlock man. She always added her own uniqueness never leaving the man unsatisfied once.

Tonight however something was different. It was a dark night, like always, and she appeared before him in her as he called true form. This time she wore a simple lace black teddy with matching sheer knee highs and a matching collar.

“Do you want me to change into anything particular master?”

“Ambrose, just Ambrose tonight. Please” his voice was already raspy. But it was thick with what she knew to be hurt. though she was not prone to feel, she began to lean and memorize human emotions. And this hurt was heavy in his face and in his voice.

She frowned slowly walking over to the warlock, and changed her attire into something more comfortable. She wore a large t-shirt over her body and kept the thigh highs on. He was lying across the bed on his back on the bed in his own red robe which she never knew she would grow fond of.

“Very well Ambrose.” She crawled over his body to rest in his side. His arm wrapped around and pulled her to lie on top of him and his free hand pulled the sheets over the two.

Sucubi and Incubi knew to fuck in any and every way possible. Hell they knew every single man made and supernatural pose for sex. They could go on for months if they had to.

But this? Y/N had no idea at all what to do. It was outside her nature to feel anything but lust. Typically afterwards she’d wipe the memories of her meals, but Amrbose was different.

She never realized she’d been coming to his home for two months now. And she definitely did not realize. She most certainly never realized how she could never fuck another mortal, demon, witch or warlock without picturing his face. None of them fulfilled her hunger like Ambrose did.

“You haven’t came in three days” Ambrose spoke up staring aimlessly up at the ceiling.

“I didn’t realize you were counting” Y/N began to count and memorize his heart beat “men, women, anything with a pulse remember me when they get a boner or need a way to get off. They never miss me.”

“I did. I know I shouldn’t your kind are forbidden any feeling less you wish to give up your demon status.” Ambrose closed his eyes “but some nights I just imagine you here in the morning rather than the evening. Your eyes in the sunlight are something I’d die to see for just a moment. Anything to bring me happiness in this dark prison.”

As he spoke his words grew softer and softer till finally his soft snores began to fill the quiet room. Unknown to him Y/N had whispered a small sleep spell to put the warlock to sleep. She looked to the window letting a soft sigh as she watched the sun just barely peak from the horizon.

Ambrose woke and like always Y/N was gone. He couldn’t bring himself to sit up and see what breakfast his aunt was beginning to cook. The two would definitely know something was off with the warlock and he knew his young cousin would instantly read his heartbroken face.

A knock on the door forced the warlock to sit up and feel around in his bed for his robe which he found to be gone. Instead he pulled a shirt over his body form the floor.

“It’s open aunty.”

The door creaked open and he felt his heart skip. Y/N walked in holding a tray of breakfast in her hands. Her horns no longer present on her head, and the air around her did not seem to seep it’s usual lust filled effects. She also wore Ambrose’s red robe which was a bit larger on the demoness.

“Good morning Ambrose.” She smiled setting the tray carefully on the bed.

“But - But you”

“Well while you were fast asleep you neglected to see I was called back to Hell. I broke one of my kinds most sacred rules.”

“Which was?”

“I fell in love.” she sighed shaking her head “damn you beings and your disgusting infectious feelings. Be lucky I have my power and immortality. I am just no longer welcome in Hell and my horns have been stripped, but I will not hesitate to curse your cock to never stand erect for a week.”

Ambrose shook his head letting out a soft laugh as he leaned forward ot press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too Y/N.”

#ambrose spellman #ambrose spellman x reader #caos #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #sabrina spellman #ambrose x reader

318 notes · View notes

mordellestories · 4 years ago

Text

Give a Beetle a Bone

It was a fucking disaster, is what it was! It wasn't like Betelgeuse's plans had never gone to shit, quite the opposite; his plans ALWAYS went to shit in some way or another, but this time? This time took the fucking cake ! Getting eaten by a sandworm just moments away from being free as a bat at dusk, now that's a story to tell the grandkids–wherever the fuck those little turds were. How could this be the end? How could he have gotten so close, only to come out of the other end of a giant, very satisfied, striped asshole? At least one of them enjoyed themselves. He shuddered at the memory of being squeezed right out into a steaming mountain of sandworm shit.

What was he supposed to do now? Wait his turn with the other deadbeats in waiting room 8, just to get bitched out by the cunt-of-an-ex-boss? Again?! No. No freaking way. This was it. This was the last straw that broke the corpses back, and Betelgeuse was ready to go to war .

The riled up poltergeist shot out of his chair, still in tatters from his meet and greet with the jaws and intestines of that legless, enthusiastic fucker on Saturn. (The beast actually took a liking to Betelgeuse once he was out. Must have grazed the thing’s sweet spot or some shit.)

"I'm not gonna stand for this," Betelgeuse said with righteous determination while standing. "I'm the ghost with the most!" He beat his chest with an angry fist and stomped his foot on the ground. "I do what I want when I want, and none of you dupes can do a thing about it!"

"You!" Miss Argentina shouted from the reception. "I can hit this big red button right here and send you right back to where you came from if you like," she grinned wickedly.

Betelgeuse held up his hands in surrender. "Woah! Not necessary, babe," he winked, exposing his grimy overbite. "I'm just gonna hit the john, maybe have some grub, and I'll be right back." He chuckled slowly and dangerously, placing his hand to his chest and straightening. "Cross my heart and hope to live," he cackled wildly and popped into the midplane between life and death. Time to pay up, betrothed. His shrieking laughter rang through time and space as he zeroed in on his target.

He landed in a darkroom. It took a few moments to realize he was trapped in a negative hung to dry.

"You ruin my art, and I'll ruin your afterlife," droned a familiar feminine voice from afar.

Betelgeuse craned his neck every which way to catch a glimpse of the snot-nosed, betraying, little shit. The backstabbing kid was gonna feel his wrath from here to kingdom come– HOLY HANGIN' GEMSTONES BELOW!

A slim form was hunched over a table, examining her work with a Buddhist monk's calm and concentration—jet black hair pulled up in a messy bun, chocolate eyes, moonlight pale skin, and grown up in every way that counted in his books!

Mother o' pearl, look at those tits!

"Yowzers!" Betelgeuse let out, followed by a sharp whistle. "How long was I in that literal shithole," he grumbled and scratched his head, utterly confounded.

"Eighteen years," Lydia replied dryly, not sparing a glance in the poltergeist's way, making Betelgeuse feel entirely insignificant.

It was insulting. It was infuriating. It was-it was-it was... It was a massive turn on , and Betelgeuse was instantaneously stiff in more ways than one.

He leered in her direction, even though she was still ignoring him, and scanned her top to toes again, shaking his head in bewilderment. Betelgeuse hummed with approval. "May I just say, you're lookin' like a beetle on a cracker ta me right now, babe. Ya sure as hell didn't get your pop's looks, thank my lucky stars," he mumbled the rest.

Lydia arched a brow, the only sign she had heard him at all.

Lordy-lord! That stoic, unperturbed, porcelain face was making him itch in all the right places.

"I wondered when you'd have the stones to come back," Lydia murmured absentmindedly.

Oh, this bitch was messing with the wrong dead man. "Is that right," he drawled with a sneer. "Well, honeybun, your wait is over. Time to ta hold up your end of our deal."

Lydia scoffed with the tiniest smile, her complete amused disregard for the poltergeist going straight to his dick.

Look at me, look at me, look at me! Betelgeuse shook himself and tried to sound as menacing as possible and not like he wanted to grovel at her feet and beg her to scratch his head like the flea-infested dog he was. "Sweetums," he warned, "I think you remember what I'm capable of–hard to forget, I'm sure. I'd watch yourself if I were you."

This time, Lydia did turn her gaze up to meet the ghost, but the look on her face was far from frightened. There was a wicked glint in her hooded eyes, but the rest her face remained as impassive as ever. "What are you going to do? Summon a merry-go-round and a jumping mice circus? Dress as a clown? Oh, wait," her brow furrowed slightly, "you're already in costume."

Oh my god... Cupid had aimed a long-range missile right between his legs and shot his cock up to the heavens that didn't exist a moment ago.

Betelgeuse actually needed to swallow for the first time since he'd keeled over. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were bugged out. He needed to get this shit under control, or he was gonna roll over and let his tongue loll out of his panting, rabid mouth. He cleared his throat and adjusted the lapels of his ruined wedding tux.

Lydia had the decency to keep eye contact, but it unnerved him, and that was just insane. "Listen, kid, uh, woman, uh, pretty lady," he stammered, "I bent the laws of nature for you, saved your friends, scared your folks straight, I'm due some compensation, okay?" Betelgeuse couldn't get over sounding like a handyman being gypped out of his hard-earned cash by an unsatisfied customer. "We made a deal," he all but whined.

The medium raised a single brow and smirked, giving Betelgeuse her undivided but callous attention. "Poor Betelgeuse," she cooed.

The ghost could not suppress the electric sparks from shooting out of his ears at the sound of his name on those pretty pink lips.

"Oh, baby ," Betelgeuse drawled, desire gripping onto his sanity and wringing it out like an old dishrag. "Two more times, and I'm yours," he breathed with manic, pleading eyes. "I'll do anything, and I mean... anything," he pronounced while whipping his arms open to make it abundantly clear.

Betelgeuse could feel Lydia's eyes appraising him, and he was suddenly, painfully aware that he looked like he'd been chewed and shat out of a Saturn giant. She was looking at him like he was a bug–and not in a good way.

"Anything?"

Betelgeuse latched onto the intrigue like a lifeline, because that's exactly what it was! "Anything," he swore and knew he'd follow through because-holy shit-she was gorgeous. To prove his point, he blinked a bouquet of roses into Lydia's arms.

Surprise registered on Lydia's face and then a smile, and fuck, he felt like she'd given him a treat for being a good boy.

"Cute," she deadpanned and let the flowers drop to the floor, "but cliche."

Betelgeuse snapped his fingers, a box of chocolates manifested next, which Lydia snorted at.

A wave of his hand brought a generous shower of jewels and gems.

She rolled her eyes.

Betelgeuse snarled. "Aw, c'mon! Waddya want?! Dresses?" All manner of old fashioned gowns fell onto Lydia's lap. "Just say the word, and it's yours."

Lydia seemed somewhat pleased with the wardrobe above everything else, but it still wasn't the reaction any other woman would have had. Hell's bells, this woman was hard to please! He hit all the staples, didn't he? What else could a chick want?!

"Hmm," the stoic beauty hummed and shrugged, "I dunno, Betelgeuse ."

"One more B-word, snookums," the ghost pleaded.

She sighed dramatically. "I'm not very impressed, and I honestly have everything I've ever set my mind to," she looked at her nails and then dead in his eyes. "Except..."

Betelgeuse pressed his face up against the photo's barrier, squishing his crooked nose and fogging up the image. "Tell me," he purred, fire igniting every cold bit of his soul.

"You."

Betelgeuse let out a high-pitched wheeze and shot a hand to his dead heart. "Me?! Fuck, babe, ya got me! Hook, line, and sinker! Let me outta here!" He clawed at his prison and whimpered.

Lydia's grin was downright evil, and the ghost shook in his boots. "I'm not going to marry you," she clarified. Betelgeuse deflated but waited for her to continue. "But, I'll let you out every once in a while if you're a good boy."

Good boy. "Want me ta be good? I'll be good for ya. I'll sprout wings and a halo for you, babes."

"I don't think you understand," Lydia chuckled and shook her head, bemused. "I'll own your soul, you'll be my errand boy for all of my whims, and I decide if and when you get to come out to play."

"Yes." Betelgeuse had said it without hesitation, and no follow-up.

Lydia's eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. "You can't be serious," she narrowed her eyes. "I'm offering you scraps!"

Upon snapping his fingers again, Betelgeuse's ears grew and flopped over, a tail sprouted out of his ass crack, and a collar with the name Lydia in big neon green letters wrapped around his neck.

"As long as those scraps come from your table, Lyds, I'll sit, rollover, and even play dead for ya." He grinned wide, let his tongue roll out past his chin as he panted, and let out a needy bark.

It was obviously the right thing to do because the passive woman burst out laughing. It was music to Betelgeuse's new doggie ears. He was so in trouble.

"Okay," she let out on a breathy giggle. "Then we got a deal... Betelgeuse ."

The ghost cackled and cheered. "Aw, yeah! It's showtime, babes!"

Mordelle on Ao3

#beetlebabes #babesweek #babesweekjuly2020 #beej and lyds #Beetlejuice/Lydia #movieverse #beetlejuice movie #mordellestories

24 notes · View notes

exoticarmyofcrowns · 5 years ago

Text

first love | myg

pairing: none. this is a solo yoongi fic

summary: nothing is for certain. except yoongi’s love for his piano. or: first love in too many words

genre: song fic, angst

warnings: some mentions of depression and yucky thoughts, potentially triggering mention of a panic attack (i tried to be purposefully vague but just in case), potentially graphic depiction of a car accident

word count: ~5.5k

a/n: hello! so uh here i am making my debut! i am still reeling from the emotional rollercoaster that was bangbangcon and it kinda rallied me into wanting to publish this?? i adore first love, i think it is such a poignant, poetic representation of yoongi’s love and devotion to music and i really wanted to explore that relationship a little in story form. i’ve had this written for a while and i’ve always wanted to write stuff on here but never had the courage. but i figure we all collectively need some respite from our emotions so here is a small gift, if anyone would like to take a look. if you do, pls enjoy and let me know your thoughts! <3

(also, please keep in mind that artistic liberties were taken despite being based off of yoongi’s life.)

Yoongi is five years old.

He wanders out of his room, looking for his mom. He just has to show her this awesome drawing that he made. He knows that she’ll love it, that she will be proud of him. Smiling gleefully, he toddles off into the rest of the house to find her.

“Eomma!” he yells, hoping she’ll hear him and give him a clue as to where she is. Maybe she’s playing hide and seek! Yoongi giggles at the thought, determined now more than ever to find her.

He checks his parents room, frowning when he realizes it’s empty. It’s not bedtime, he reasons, she wouldn’t be in here. Closing the door, Yoongi sets off into the living room to check there. But there’s no sign of his mother there either. She’s not in the kitchen and the bathroom door is open so she’s not in there either. Frustrated, Yoongi turns to go back to his room.

On his way back, he spots a door at the end of the hall. His eyes narrow as he purses his lips. He hadn’t checked there yet. Maybe she really is hiding from him. Deciding it was worth a try, he stomps over to the door and reaches up to grab the handle.

It takes a few tries but Yoongi manages to gather enough strength to push open the door. He whips his head around, checking every possible corner for signs of his mom. He’s about to let out a frustrated whine when his eyes catch on something on the far wall to his right.

A piano.

Yoongi had seen pictures of pianos before in the stories his mom would read to him before bed but he had never seen one up close. It’s massive, towering over his small frame in a way that should have been intimidating but only filled him with quiet wonder.

Scrambling up on the tall bench--which should have tipped over with the force of his jump but it miraculously stayed put--Yoongi takes in the white and black keys, marveling at the way they shine in the light coming from the window. He sticks out a small, chubby finger and presses one of the keys. The note rings out around him and he giggles in delight.

Pretty, he thinks. He begins pressing keys in earnest, playing around with different note combinations and laughing in pure joy when he finds a pair that he likes. He’s so enraptured by the piano that he hardly notices when the door creaks open.

“There you are, little one.” His mother’s voice has a playful lilt in it as she watches her son play the piano with unadulterated glee.

“Eomma!” Yoongi cries, excited to show her his discovery. “Look! A piano!”

“I see!” she laughs. “You’re quite the musician.”

“Musician,” he repeats, liking the way it feels on his tongue. “I feel so nice, mom.”

Yoongi’s mother cards her fingers through his hair fondly, chuckling at her precocious son. “Hmm, maybe the piano likes you. You two will grow up to be the best of friends.” She scoops the young child in her arms, heart warming at the squeals of laughter the action elicits.

“Come on now, my little Beethoven,” his mother says, setting Yoongi back down on the ground and taking his small hand in hers. “It’s time for lunch.”

As he follows his mother out of the room, Yoongi takes one last look at the piano. He smiles, already excited to play again.

Yoongi is fourteen years old.

The last bell rings, signaling the end of the school day but Yoongi hardly hears it, pen scribbling furiously across his paper. Inspiration had struck in the middle of math class and he has to get the lyrics down before he leaves to go home.

Finishing, he rereads through his work with a small smile. He’s quite proud of these lyrics, thinks they might be the best yet. He already has an idea for a backing beat swirling in his head, one that would really compliment the message of his rap and the new flow he’s been experimenting with. He feels giddy with excitement at the idea of playing around with some different sounds. Standing, Yoongi packs up his things, throwing his journal into his bag before heading out with the rest of his classmates.

As he walks, Yoongi is, not for the first time, conscious of how alone he is. Girls walk in line with their arms interlocked while the guys are loud and boisterous, hanging off each other with wide grins on their faces. He has friends of course, if you could call the neighborhood kids he plays basketball with on occasion “friends,” but none that he would consider particularly close to him. The thought leaves him feeling strange so he shuts it out, shaking his head roughly as if to physically dispel it.

He makes his way to the school entrance, hanging a quick left past the convenience store to the bus stop. He catches a glimpse of a group of students talking and laughing, indulging in a hot bowl of ramen before heading home. Yoongi’s stomach rumbles at the sight and he pauses, calculating. His shoulders slump when he realizes he doesn’t quite have enough, the change burning a hole in his pocket just enough to cover his bus fare home and little else. He doesn’t get paid again until Friday. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he ignores the cramping in his stomach and continues on to catch his bus.

The bus ride home is, thankfully, uneventful. He trudges his way from the bus stop to his house. Like he does every day. As he climbs the steps, Yoongi thinks a little wryly to himself that the house that had seemed so huge to him as a child feels scarcely bigger than a prison cell. Maybe it’s the hunger talking.

Opening the front door, Yoongi sighs out a half-hearted I’m home! despite knowing the house is empty. He bends over to shuck off his shoes and place them in the cubby. A soft thud sounds behind him but he doesn’t notice.

Yoongi heads to the kitchen to down a glass of water in the hopes of dispelling the growing hunger pangs before shuffling to his room, tossing his backpack carelessly at the foot of his bed and flopping face-first onto the thin mattress. He knows he should probably get up and finish his homework but he still feels the residual exhaustion from his weekend shifts at the convenience store. Maybe he should ask Mr. Kim to lighten up on his hours. Yoongi would have to sell more songs to make up the income difference but he thinks it might be worth it to get some extra sleep.

He nods off for what he swears can’t be more than a few minutes but the sound of the front door shutting and the way his room has dimmed significantly suggest otherwise. Swearing, Yoongi turns on his bedside lamp and rubs a tired hand down his face. He stands, stretching his tight muscles, and moves to grab his bag from the floor. The house is eerily silent considering his parents have just come home but Yoongi brushes the thought away in favor of pulling out his textbook to get started on his homework.

Just as he’s about to sit down, a figure stops in front of his bedroom doorway. Yoongi looks up, a small smile and a greeting on his lips. They both wither at the sight before him.

There stands his father, holding his lyrics journal. Yoongi feels his mouth go dry.

They stare at each other for an immeasurable amount of time. Yoongi tries to think of something, anything, to say but his mind has blanked and his skin prickles in a cold sweat. His father recovers before he does.

“Min Yoongi,” he begin, voice deceptively calm. “What is this?”

“A-Appa,” Yoongi stutters. “I can explain--”

“I thought we talked about this, Yoongi.” He steps into Yoongi’s room and the younger boy fights the urge to cower where he stands. “You should be focusing on your studies. Not on these frivolous songs.”

Yoongi winces and tries to push down the flash of irritation. “Yes, appa. B-But I haven’t been letting it affect my grades. I get all my school work done and I try to help you and mom out by picking up extra shifts at Mr. Kim’s store--”

“And selling this drivel on street corners?” Yoongi freezes. His parents weren’t supposed to know about that. “Oh yes, I know all about your little escapades on the streets. Do you know how risky that is? What kind of danger you could be putting yourself in?”

“I…” Yoongi’s voice sounds incredibly small and he hates it. “It’s just to get my name out there. Get some experience.”

“You don’t need experience. This…nonsense--”

“It’s rap, appa. Hip hop.”

His father fixes him with a look but doesn’t comment. “This isn’t a real career, Yoongi.”

“But I… I love it,” he whispers, trembling with repressed anguish.

“Love is not enough to make a living.” His father closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “Is there more?”

Yoongi hesitates before nodding slowly.

“Give it to me.” He holds his hand out, frown set deeply on his forehead. “This ends now.”

Balking, Yoongi takes a step back, heart crawling into his throat and suffocating him. “A-Appa, no. You can’t--”

“I can and I will. Hand them over, Yoongi.”

The boy feels something akin to rage rush through his veins. He chances a glance at the doorway and sees his mother standing there uneasily.

“Eomma,” he cries thickly.

His mother looks equally as pained but her gaze flickers to her husband. “Your father is right, Yoongi-yah. This… Rap is a hobby, not a job. This could get you involved in the wrong circles. You need to focus on your school work.” She doesn’t meet his gaze.

Anger bubbles in his chest and stings at his eyes, but he chokes down the frustrated scream threatening to tear itself from his throat and moves mechanically to gather his other notebooks full of lyrics. Stiffly, he stands before his father and offers the notebooks.

His father’s expression softens minutely. “We’re doing this for your own good, Yoongi. Please do not doubt this.” With that, he leaves. A year’s worth of lyrics. Gone. His mother lingers at the door but ultimately leaves without another word.

Suddenly, his room feels too small, the faded walls of his old home closing in on him rapidly. Frustration and the anger swirl so violently in his stomach Yoongi thinks he’ll be sick. He can’t be here anymore but he also can’t leave.

So he runs to the only place he can think of.

The piano room has remained largely untouched since his younger days. The air is stale and faintly musty but Yoongi doesn’t care, can’t bring himself to care as he flings himself onto the old piano bench, arms cradling his head atop the fallboard. Hot, angry tears fall in torrents down his cheeks and his fists clench so tightly he can feel the sharp sting of his nails on his palm. He muffles his cries into his arms, into the piano, unable to keep the sounds to himself any longer.

It takes a while for Yoongi to calm down. Eventually, his tears slow and his breath evens out, though it still hiccups slightly in his chest. He sits up gingerly and stares down at the piano. He hasn’t been here in years and yet… It felt so natural to come here for comfort. Like it was waiting for him.

Shakily, he moves to slide the fallboard back, revealing the shining keys. He straightens his back, falling into position. His fingers hover over the keys, supported lightly by his wrists. The angle is different now that he has grown, no longer dwarfed by the beautiful instrument. Hesitant, Yoongi tries to recall one of the songs his music teacher had taught him and begins to play stiltedly.

It’s awkward; his fingers can’t quite move the way they used to and his new height works against him as he tries to find a comfortable position to play. But the longer he sits, the more comfortable it becomes until he feels like he’s sat here his whole life--playing, listening, living. Yoongi feels a shiver travel down his spine, cleansing and fresh. The anguish and tension from earlier bleeds through his fingertips as he loses himself.

Gradually, Yoongi stops playing, letting the resounding final notes of his song envelop him, but he doesn’t move. He stays, basking in the warmth, a sort of quiet acceptance, that seems to cradle his body as he sits.

Caressing the keys almost reverently, Yoongi makes a promise to himself. Rap and writing lyrics and music--these things make up the complex tapestry that is him and he will never let that go ever again. It’s his life to live, his destiny to choose, and he will not let anyone make that decision for him. Not even his parents.

And as he sits there, the boy with his piano welcoming the dawn, he feels the weight on his heart lift just a bit.

Yoongi is nineteen years old.

The rumble of the small bike he uses to make deliveries is the only thing keeping him awake as he drives to his next customer. He’s been pulling more all-nighters as he and the other guys work toward debut, writing songs and going over choreographies. It’s an endless loop of meetings and practices and Yoongi can feel the strain on his frayed nerves. He knows he’s been moodier with his members, too.

His members, he thinks wryly. It wasn’t exactly what he had imagined when he accepted his position at Big Hit but he figures it’s the only way to get what he wants. Music is more important to him than anything. If it requires him to play nice with others for the time being then he can do that.

Yoongi rolls to a stop at a traffic light and lets out a small sigh, foot coming down onto the pavement to steady himself. The roads are practically empty and it does nothing to quell the exhaustion weighing down his eyelids. It seems like no matter where he is, work will always be a constant in his life. He hadn’t even meant to get another job on top of his producer gig but he’d seen an ad looking for someone to make deliveries a few times a week. The pay was pretty decent and it would be a nice supplement to what he was receiving at Big Hit so he took it.

It was, however, coming back to bite him in the ass now that things are starting to pick up for them. Just a little longer, he figures. Once they debut, he’ll probably have to quit anyway so might as well enjoy the little extra paycheck for now. Yoongi taps his foot impatiently on the ground as he waits for the light to change, sighing in relief when bright green washes over him and signals him to go.

He’s not quite sure how it happens. He remembers picking his foot up off the ground as he releases the clutch, crossing over the line into the intersection. He thinks he recalls the distant sound of a horn blaring, of a bright light flashing, but that’s overshadowed by the sudden force pushing him onto the ground. His head cracks back against the pavement and thankfully his helmet bears the brunt of the impact but Yoongi still feels the sharp pressure against his skull, a dull ringing sounding in his ears.

Yoongi’s eyes had closed when he was thrown back and he pries them open, vision fuzzy and unfocused, only to be met with the daunting image of a car wheel right in his face. Belatedly, he registers the sound of a bone-chilling scream. He tries to turn his head to find the source of the sound but he realizes with haunting clarity that it’s coming from him.

Just as he makes the connection, Yoongi begins to hurt. White-hot pain radiates from his shoulder so potent it chokes him. He hears the sound of an engine revving and the wheel in front of his face starts to move away. It catches on his bike, sending it crashing into his shoulder, and another scream of agony scrapes his throat raw. Tears stream from his eyes, further obscuring his vision, but he can still make out the image of the car speeding away, tires screeching as exhaust spews from the pipe.

Yoongi is torn between the excruciating pain and the disbelief that someone just fucking hit him and drove off without even stepping out of the car. He wants to shout curses at the retreating vehicle but the throbbing in his shoulder has intensified even more, churning his stomach so violently it’s a wonder he doesn’t throw up right there.

Hours pass, it feels like, before a strange sort of numbness begins to filter through his limbs. His body is heavy, and his eyes can no longer hold themselves open. He’s not sure how long he lays there, disoriented and unable to move before someone takes notice of him but he thinks he hears someone frantically calling 911. Soon he hears the sharp siren of an ambulance, lights blinding Yoongi even as he teeters between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The ride to the hospital is a blur. The paramedics had tried talking to him but he was just so tired and everything hurt so bad he could hardly focus long enough to force his lips to form words much less complete sentences. They must hook him to an IV because he feels a sharp prick on the inside of his arm and suddenly his muscles relax. He knows he can’t sleep though so he fights to keep himself awake.

He barely registers arriving at the hospital, the jostling of the stretcher the only indication that he’s moving. A doctor asks one of the paramedics for the report and Yoongi only hears bits of the diagnosis. He knows his shoulder is fucked but the way they’re talking about it unnerves him. He’s anxious now, heart rate spiking as he thinks of the implications this could have on the group. His breathing stutters, sending a shooting pain through his ribs, and he can feel the beginnings of a panic attack tightening in his chest. This catches the attention of the doctor and nurses and they’re suddenly focused on him.

“Yoongi-ssi,” the doctor begins, voice soft and cajoling. He vaguely wonders how he knows his name but then figures the paramedics must have found his license. “You’ve had quite the accident. I know you must be in a lot of pain but is there someone we can call to stay with you and sign some papers?”

Yoongi stares unseeingly at the doctor’s face and really tries to get his voice to cooperate. He knows he can’t call his parents, not yet at least, so he says the first name that comes to mind.

“N-Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.” He rattles off what he hopes is his phone number before the effort becomes too great. He tries to fight it, he really does, but the events of the night begin to take its toll and his eyelids slip closed as he falls into the beckoning darkness.

When Yoongi comes to, he’s greeted with an annoying beeping somewhere off to his left. He squints, eyes blinking furiously to clear his vision from the blinding white of the hospital room. Moving to sit up, he winces and immediately stops trying to move. He feels like he’s been hit by a truck, which is not too far off, he thinks a little dryly.

A movement to his right makes him flick his gaze to the window where a figure he hadn’t noticed before jumps up from their position in a chair. It’s Namjoon.

“Hyung,” he cries, eyes wild as he practically sprints toward the bed. Yoongi would laugh if he weren’t sure he looked just as ridiculous. “What happened?”

Yoongi scoffs only to grimace when the small movement jerks his shoulder. “Oh, you know, just a casual Friday night.” He tries to joke but Namjoon just gives him a deadpan look so he clears his throat and looks away. “I was making deliveries and some asshole ran a light and hit me. Pretty sure they crushed my shoulder.”

Namjoon nods. He had heard as much from the doctor when he had come in. He seemed to be unimpressed with a barely legal kid coming as Yoongi’s “guardian” but Namjoon couldn’t have cared less in that moment.

“Do you know who did it?”

“Nah, the bastard sped off as soon as I went down.” Yoongi watches as Namjoon’s face drops in horror, head tipping back in disbelief.

“Goddammit.” He runs a tired hand through his hair before sliding it down his face.

“What time is it anyway?”

Namjoon glances at his watch. “Almost eight.”

Yoongi releases a breath. “Fuck. There goes morning practice.”

“Hyung.” Namjoon’s voice has deepened into his leader voice and Yoongi fights the urge to wince again. “Be serious.”

At his sides, Yoongi’s fists clench. “Does anyone else know?” He raises his gaze to look at the younger man. Namjoon shakes his head once, not breaking eye contact. “Good. Keep it that way.”

The leader balks at that. “What?!” he splutters. “You can’t be serious--”

“Joon.” Yoongi cuts him off with a look, voice softening into a desperate plea. “Please.”

This stops Namjoon short. Yoongi is so rarely vulnerable with him but they have been working and living together for two years now. They’re coworkers and, dare he think, friends. He doesn’t know the full story but he does know that Yoongi’s life has been anything but easy. He has his own reasons for doing the things he does and Namjoon has to understand and trust that Yoongi knows what he’s doing.

Although it goes against everything his mind is screaming at him, Namjoon nods at the elder. “Okay, hyung. I won’t say anything.”

Yoongi relaxes then, thankful that the younger has decided to trust him.

The next few hours pass relatively quickly. The doctor comes in shortly after their talk and gives Yoongi a run-down of his injuries. His shoulder is practically nonfunctional and he has to keep it wrapped and in a sling for at least six weeks, possibly longer. He doesn’t have a concussion, thank goodness, but the doctor reminds him to come back if he experiences bouts of nausea and recurring headaches. He looks reluctant to say so but he tentatively tells Yoongi that he can leave the hospital but he strongly recommends that he stay at least a few days. Yoongi immediately refuses.

They discuss proper care of Yoongi’s injuries before he’s finally released downstairs to fill out his discharge papers. Namjoon sticks close to his side, listening attentively to the doctor’s explanations and helping Yoongi fill out the papers he can’t quite lift his arm high enough to sign. His ears burn hotly with embarrassment but he’s thankful for Namjoon’s presence nonetheless.

The trip back to the dorm is silent but not uncomfortably so. They hail a taxi from the hospital entrance and Namjoon helps the older into the back seat, opening the door and steadying him as he sits. Yoongi wants to protest that he’s not an invalid but he sort of is. Also, try as he might, he can’t quite stop the swell of affection that overtakes him as the younger fusses over him so he sits back, silent.

Yoongi doesn’t bother to try and hide it from the others. Can’t, really, since they’re all sitting in the living room waiting for them as soon as they step through the doors. Seokjin is the first to reach them, brow furrowed in concern as he takes in Yoongi’s haggard appearance and his sling. He places a hand on his good shoulder, squeezing gently and moving to cup the side of his neck in a tender gesture, before murmuring something about making something for him to eat.

Jeongguk is next, doe eyes puffy and shining with tears, and he looks like he wants to launch himself at Yoongi but Hoseok has a strong grip on his forearm, other arm rubbing soothingly down his side. Yoongi reaches out and ruffles the youngest’s hair, lips quirked in a small smile to let him know that he’s alright. A small whimper escapes the boy but he valiantly keeps his tears at bay, returning a watery smile before retreating further into Hoseok’s hold. Hoseok looks deeply into his eyes, tense posture relaxing as he gives his hand a squeeze. Jimin and Taehyung stay back but look at him just as sadly as the others. Yoongi shakes his head and offers another smile he hopes is reassuring. He doesn’t think it works.

The boys fuss over Yoongi well into the night and he tells himself that he’s too tired to be annoyed at their coddling. Namjoon basically moves into his and Seokjin’s room, insisting that he help take care of his injuries as per the doctor’s instructions. Showering proves to be a challenge and it takes both Namjoon and Seokjin to help him undress and cover his cast so that it doesn’t get wet. Yoongi practically dies from the mortification but he’s grateful for the two of them.

Yoongi resumes their regular schedule of activities, much to the disapproval of the rest. He hides his sling and cast under massive t-shirts and jackets that swallow his slender frame whole. Dance practices are hard but he forges ahead, pushing his shoulder to limits he probably shouldn’t but it gets the job done and keeps the suspicious eyes off of him. He pays for it later, though, in the confines of his room after Namjoon and Seokjin have fallen asleep, when he has to muffle his sobs of agony against his good arm.

He likes to think he’s been managing fairly well all things considered but one practice tips him over the edge. It’s been three months since the accident and his shoulder has healed almost entirely but it still acts up every so often. This morning had been particularly rough and no amount of pain-killers had been able to take the edge off.

The choreographer had just left, leaving Hoseok in charge of the rest of practice. Yoongi sits heavily on the floor, chest heaving, and grabs his water bottle before guzzling the contents. They’ve been going at it for the better part of four hours now and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight.

“Hoseok-hyung,” Jeongguk pants, flicking his t-shirt against his body in an effort to cool down. “Can we take a break? Please?”

“Soon, Guk. I just want us to do a few more run-throughs before we call it a day.” Hoseok’s eyes don’t leave the mirror as he completes a step and repeats it again.

Jeongguk pouts but doesn’t protest further. Namjoon flickers his gaze over to Yoongi before heading over to Hoseok, clapping a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Hoseok-ah. Why don’t we take fifteen and recuperate a little. Then we’ll get back into it.” He sends a pointed glance to where Yoongi sits near their things and the elder man bristles slightly at that.

“Namjoon. It’s fine, let’s just keep going.” He tries not to snap but he knows it comes out far more bitter than he means.

“Hyung, I just think--”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi launches himself from the ground and takes his position in front of the mirror. “From the top.”

Namjoon and Hoseok share a look as the others stare in silence but Yoongi ignores them in favor of analyzing his form in the mirror. His shoulder throbs insistently.

“From the top,” Hoseok repeats lifelessly, and everyone falls into position.

They manage a few more rehearsals before Yoongi truly starts to feel the consequences. He’s sore and sweaty and his shoulder seems to have developed its own pulse, pounding painfully in time with the music. One move in particular sends a shooting pain down his arm so sharp he yelps in surprise, doubling over with the effort to breathe. The others are on him in an instant.

“Hyung, are you alright--”

“Yoongi-yah, why don’t you just sit--”

“Hyung, come on, let’s all just--”

“I said I’m fine!” Yoongi roars, irritation peaking. “Would everyone please just stop treating me like I’m made of fucking glass?”

No one answers, no one even dares to breathe. Five heads swivel to Namjoon who seems just about as bewildered about the outburst as everyone else.

Yoongi is breathing heavily now, part from pain and part from the force of his outrage. He knows he’s being irrational but he’s sick and tired of having them hover around him like he could collapse at any moment. He’s fine goddammit!

Another long moment passes and Yoongi can’t face them again, not when he feels so unstable. Frustration--at them, at no one, at himself--forms a heavy lump in his throat and he swallows thickly to dislodge it.

“I’m heading to the studio. Don’t wait up.” He grabs his bag and practically flies out the door, heading to the second floor. He flings his studio door open and quickly closes it behind him, breathing heavily.

His head falls into his hands before they move into his hair and tug harshly. Hot tears prick at his eyes and Yoongi can’t stop the anguished cry from leaving his lips as he crumples in on himself. He’s just so tired and stressed and in so much pain. He knows the others mean well but he hates this, hates being reminded that this only happened because of his stupidity. He was the one with the second job, he was the one who got in that stupid accident, he was the one who forced them to keep it a secret. It’s hard on everyone and Yoongi has no one to blame but himself.

He shouts in frustration, throwing his bag down harshly onto the ground. The action seems to awaken a deeper desire to destroy, to hurt just as he is, and before he can think through it, he’s overturning the small armchair and coffee table with a yell.

Red flashes behind his eyes and the emotions that have been simmering low in his stomach boil over, running hotly through his veins. Yoongi screams at the furniture as if they’re the cause of his suffering and he lands a violent kick to its surface, once, twice. His desk chair receives the same treatment and he turns to grab the baseball bat he keeps by the door. Stalking toward his electric piano, he raises the bat above his head to strike but he hesitates. Another harsh ripple of pain rushes through him and that’s all it takes.

Dropping the bat, Yoongi falls to his knees just as the first tears fall. He cries and cries, clutching his shoulder as if it were the only thing anchoring him. He can’t do this anymore, he can’t. He’s not cut out for performing or music or any of it.

Maybe his parents were right.

He stays there for a while, hiccuping in the silence of his studio. His breathing eventually slows but the heaviness in his heart remains. Looking up, Yoongi takes in the sight of his piano. It’s obviously different from the one he has at home but it’s still familiar, comforting. He rises slowly, taking care to mind his shoulder, and grabs the small bench from underneath the stand. Sitting, his body moves almost automatically into position. Yoongi’s shoulder twinges again but it’s more manageable this time. He takes a deep breath, centering himself, and plays.

He’s not sure what he’s playing, just letting his fingers glide across the keys as they see fit. He almost wishes he were recording himself so he could listen to it back but he doesn’t want to stop playing even for a moment to pull out his phone. So he doesn’t; just keeps playing. And playing. And playing.

It’s hours later when Yoongi finally stops. The last note lingers delicately in the air and he doesn’t breathe for fear of shattering the serenity that had settled around him. Only when it’s silent again does he exhale and he feels different. Still hurting, still heavy, but peaceful.

Sighing, he stands up from the piano and goes to right the furniture he upended during his tantrum. Once everything is back in order, he looks around the room until his gaze lands on the piano. It just stands there, unmoving, unchanging, just as it always has, and an unnamed emotion tightens in his chest. He lingers, letting the feeling seep into him until he’s filled with it. He closes his eyes.

Yoongi knows he can’t guarantee his future. Hell, he can’t even guarantee the next five minutes. But, he thinks, as he picks up his things and leaves the studio, sending one last glance at the instrument, perhaps that’s alright, as long as he has this.

#min yoongi #yoongi #min suga #suga #bts suga #bangtan sonyeondan #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #kpop fanfiction #myg #myg fic #bts #my writing

27 notes · View notes

taehyungsgrowl · 6 years ago

Text

Sweet Creature - Michael Langdon x Male!Reader

it’s your girl! Back at it with shy!hawthorne!michael! This prompt is actually very near and dear to my heart (and has been promised for a long long time haha.) also i got the name for this bc i was listening to harry styles but it has nothing to do w that. also i got the gif from google and the source took me to the FX website so if its yours LMK so i can tag you!

This is dedicated to some some pretty special people 🖤 @wvntersldr along with @1-800-bitchcraft @ticklish-leafy-plant because well, they also appreciate talking about Michael in panties with me. Thank you guys. And sorry for putting it off for so long, but it’s here now and I hope y’all enjoy this so much. Thank you Liliana and Ava for your DMs about this topic. This is for you.

Warnings: Smut (duh), Fluff probably

Y/N missed Hawthorne. No, he missed Michael. All warlocks were sent home for spring break (if they had a home - many weren’t as lucky as Y/N. Michael being one of those many who didn’t have a place to go. He would stay cooped up in his dorm, sulking at the thought of having to spend his whole week without seeing Y/N. Living at the same school, he had access to his boyfriend whenever he pleased. He missed him a lot.)

Y/N tried to make the best of his time with his family. He’d gone fishing with his dad (although he might have used a little magic to get the fish to bite), and now he’d join his mom on a little shopping spree.

His mother took a large pile of clothes into a fitting room to try on and left him to wander off on his own.

He passively wandered around the huge department store, always glancing at his phone to hear from Michael. As if on cue, Michael pressed send from his dorm and texted Y/N.

I’m so sad. I miss you.

His poor sweet baby. Y/N knew how hard days like these were for Michael. He never talked much about his family which made him assume it wasn’t pretty. He could see the shift in Michael’s attitude any time someone brought up talk of his mom or dad.

Miss you too, baby. I’ll be back tonight <3

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and continued to trail through the store. Before making his way back to his mother - a large array of soft pastel colors caught his eye. Looking up, he came face to face with a wide selection of lingerie displayed neatly.

Lace, satin, silk, chiffon. Panties, baby-dolls, bodysuits. The options were endless.

Y/N picked up the first pair of panties that caught his eyes; a delicate baby blue lace garment. Feeling the bumpy pattern between his fingers, he was taken back to an overheard conversation in the boys’ room.

“My girlfriend looked so sexy in her lingerie.” a boy bragged to his friend washing his hands in the bathroom. “I’m telling you. Buy your girlfriend some pretty panties and she’ll thank you like crazy.”

Of course, Michael was on Y/N’s mind. The blue panties matched the shade of Michael’s eyes perfectly. And Michael was feeling so down over having to spend his break alone.. maybe a little gift would help raise his spirits. How could Y/N not buy them with all those factors in place?

He hurried to the checkout station and made his purchase. He swung around the little white bag he got them in all day long; he was nervous and excited to see what Michael would think about them. He always did have a penchant for pretty things.

Before Y/N could even get his door open a pair of arms were wrapped around his neck and pulling him into his room.

“I missed you so much..” Michael mumbled into his neck.

“I missed you too, baby.” his arms were secured around Michael. He missed this; missed the way Michael smelled and the way he clung to him like a baby koala. He missed his baby.

“I got you something.” he smiled as Michael pulled away and plopped down on the bed, waiting patiently. Michael’s pretty blue eyes lit up as the mention of a gift. He’d never been a person who received much during childhood. Between Constance and the constant shuffling and planning with Ms. Mead, and now here. Someone thinking of him enough to give him something always made him giddy. He carefully eyed the little white bag in Y/N’s hand with dark cursive printing on it.

“Go on, open it.” he was handed the bag.

Y/N felt like Michael pulled the panties out in slow motion. Michael held them up by his fingers, his expression awed.

Cheeky sky blue panties; something so small (because, they really did leave little to the imagination) caused a peachy pink glow to Michael’s face.

“T-these are for me?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of them.

“Yeah,” Y/N stepped closer, “Don’t feel like you have to wear them if you don’t like them. They just made me think of you.” he chuckled.

Michael didn’t think he could blush any further, “They’re so pretty. I love them.” he placed them down on his lap, imagining what they would look like on.

“I’ll let you try them on while I wash up real quick.” he bent down to kiss Michael before scurrying off to the washroom.

Michael quickly stripped himself out of his pants and boxer briefs; he kicked aside the boring gray pair of underwear and picked up his new pretty pair. He slid them up his legs, feeling them cup his cheeks securely. He was still wearing an old tshirt that came down midthighs for him - he examined himself in the full length mirror. He slowly lifted the tshirt to his tummy to see what the panties looked like on.

His large cock was snugged tightly into the adorable blue underwear; he could see traces of his pink skin through the lace. Turning to his side, he caught a glimpse of the curve of his ass in the mirror. He thought it looked plumper than usual, but that was due to the figure hugging cut of the panties.

“Y/N.” he called out, his heart beating faster. He wanted Y/N to think he looked pretty. And how could Y/N not? With Michael’s stunning gold curls, delicate pink flushed face, and dainty blue lace? He was what dreams were made of.

Y/N caught Michael staring at himself in the mirror. He stood at the frame of the door, letting his baby take in how good he looked. He loved seeing Michael appreciate himself. Too often, he lost himself in feeling self conscious.

“Oh my god.” he let out more to himself than anyone else, “so fucking pretty, baby.” Y/N said just above a whisper.

He closed the gap between him and his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around Michael.

Y/N pulled Michael’s tshirt off, discarding it on the floor. His hands found Michael’s hips as his eyes wandered down Boy Wonder’s body. A barely there happy trail drew into his new gift, fleshy thighs on display. Michael felt more nude than when he was actually naked in front of Y/N.

He placed a series of wet sloppy kisses to the corner of Michael’s mouth, sweeping to his jaw and neck. Michael hummed in content of feeling his lovers lips on him.

His fingers dug deep into Michael’s hips, pulling him closer. He could feel him growing harder. Y/N had to pull away to see him. Michael’s cock was stretching the thin fabric even thinner. Y/N dragged a finger over it, feeling him twitch under his touch.

Before Michael’s breath could catch in his throat, Y/N dropped to his knees. His came face to face with Michael’s full glory. He felt like kneeling before an angel.

Again, with a barely there touch, he traced the outline protruded by Michael. Michael’s eyelids fluttered; he was so sensitive down there - even a feather light touch was enough to light him on fire.

“Did you miss me, baby.” Y/N asked, peering up at Michael.

“You know I did.” Michael tries to keep a steady tone, but Y/N hear the quiver in his voice.

“I wanna hear you say how you missed me. How you missed my.. touch,” he pressed a little more force on Michael, “Did you touch yourself when I was gone, baby?” he kissed right above the delicate little bow adorning Michael’s panties.

“I missed you so much, Y/N,” he whined, “No. I’ve been waiting for you.” he confessed.

Y/N licked the same spot he kissed, watching the way Michael reacted to his wet tongue on his skin, “Good boy.”

He pressed a kiss to the pretty pink tip of Michael’s length. He could taste the oozing precum through the fabric. “Hmm,” he hummed against it, “I missed this too, baby.”

“Let’s take these off, okay?” he hooked his fingers in the waistband, slowly peeling them down.

“Made me put them on only to take them off?” Michael blushed, adjusting his thighs to ease the panties down his legs.

“You knew where this was going, Michael,” his boyfriend winked before biting into his thigh, playfully. Michael’s stomach dropped at the name; he loved the “baby”s and the “sweetheart”s but when Y/N pulled out his name it was almost enough to make him cum untouched. Almost.

Maybe it was the tighter fit of the underwear, but Y/N almost flinched back with he way Michael proudly sprung out of his panties. Bright red and glistening; it made his mouth water.

His large hands grabbed at his base, slowly stroking up to meet the head. Small whines falling from Michael’s mouth only made him smile. His poor baby.. all alone for over a week. He needed to take care of him; make him feel loved.

Michael hissed at the sudden contact of his thumb running over the slit of his cock. “Y/N,” he sighed, “I missed you.” and Y/N knew he meant. Not only did he speak it, but the grip Michael held on his hair made him think Michael never wanted to let go. Y/N made a mental note in the back of his head to drag Michael out of this prison for their next break. Maybe they’d go to the beach or something. He’d kill to see his baby sun kissed and thriving.

Surprise washed over Y/N when his teasing was cut short - Michael tugged his hair and pulled him closer to his crotch, pleading, “Y/N please, it’s been too long.” his crystalline blue eyes sparkled so much, Y/N though he was on the verge of tears. And maybe he was.

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby.” needy little thing, Y/N thought to himself. But he didn’t mind. He’d do anything for Michael. He knew it from the moment he laid eyes on him. Stuttering mess, always hidden in his sketchpad. Michael had such magnetism, it always astounded him how shy he was upon meeting him.

With his lips already completely pressed to Michael’s cock (thanks to Michael’s almost forceful pull) he opened up and took as much as he could in one go. He sucked deeply, hallowing his cheeks, taking in Michael.

“Y/N..” Michael growled through clenched teeth, “Fuck,” Y/N heavy tongue massaged up and down his shaft, tracing every vein and pulse point.

Y/N snaked his hands around Michael’s legs and squeezed his ass, all while letting his cock hit the back of his throat. He gave him one firm smack and pulled his lips up and down, bobbing his head.

“I’m-” Michael couldn’t deliver a fair warning. Not that Y/N needed one. He knew his baby like the palm of his hand and knew exactly what flipped his switch.

Hot spurts of his cum flew into Y/N ready mouth. Y/N swallowed all he could while still letting his hands play with Michael. He got him all cleaned up, licking the mixture of saliva and cum off his lips.

Michael held his eyes shut, chest panting hard, and a flush of color that had washed down his neck and chest. Y/N kissed at his penis, taking any left string of cum and picking it up with his tongue, until Michael’s breathing began to regulate again.

“I hope you liked your present, baby.” he winked and gave Michael’s cheeks one last squeeze.

okay y’all. i’ve been talking about michael in panties... for months and i finally wrote it vnfjdksveafjvas soooo i hope u guys like it.

tagging: @langdonsdemon @lathraios @1-800-bitchcraft @michael-langdon-appreciation @ritualmichael @codyfernss @cryptid-coalition @russianspacegeckosexparty @starwlkers @langdonsoceaneyes @infernal-langdon @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @mega-combusken @maso-xchrist @bbyduncan @vampirefairyestelle @ticklish-leafy-plant @wvntersldr @rocketgirl2410 @langdonshell @jim-mason2 @venusxxlangdon @queencocoakimmie @lvngdvns @americanhorrorstudies @divinelangdon @missantichrist @nana15774 @sammythankyou @flowersiren @langdonsrapture @langdonsinferno @littledemondani @lathraios @kissydevil @langdonsfeed @ms-mead @langdonsplaytoy @wickedlangdon

530 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 6 years ago

Text

Submission to Ghosti - Merman x female character (sfw)

I did edit this a little, but only the title, and adding in a ‘read more’ so that it’s not a super long post.

I would just like to add that normally it'd be polite to ask if someone is ok with posting a long story by someone else on their own writing blog first before submitting it, but since the story was one I felt my followers would enjoy, I decided that this time I would post it. Please, in future, if you have something you'd like me to post for you, come and talk to me in chat first. This is, after all, my own platform for my own writing, and if you want to write your own stories, then it's easy enough to make a side-blog for that.

Thanks, Ghosti

a captured merman befriends a bandit girl caught by a pirate crew and they both escape together

Escape.

It was the only thought I harbored in my mind as I laboriously dragged myself to the steps of the cargo hold leading up to the deck. I was a truly pitiful sight, a powerful, graceful, and (to the wrong people) deadly creature, now feeble, helpless, outside my element.

If only I could make it up to the deck, I thought, as I reached the bottom step of the stairs and placed a webbed hand onto the wooden rung. None of the crew were probably awake at this time.

All I’d have to do was to scale the short flight of steps, up to the deck, drag myself across the ship, haul myself up over the railing and leap overboard, to freedom.

Which was easier said than done, when you’ve got no legs and holding your breath the whole time.

With great effort, I tried to pull myself up the few steps, my wet, slippery hands trying to find purchase onto the steps while my tail dragged uselessly behind like dead weight.

Damn, this was humiliating.

If only the rest of my pod could see me now. They, who spoke of how dreadful the landwalkers were, with their woven traps and spears of death, who killed and plundered the ocean’s inhabitants without mercy. Who would pay dearly to get their dirty scaleless hands onto one of our kind.

I had been too arrogant, and now I paid the price.

“Going somewhere, eh, fish-boy?”

I barely had enough time to register the voice before a heavy blow connected with my face, sending me sprawling across the floor. I turned, barely catching a glimpse of the captain’s ugly mug before a boot-clad foot landed heavily onto my back and pinned me to the floor, knocking the breath out of my ‘lungs’.

(Well, not exactly lungs. I have no lungs and cannot breathe air. They were more like gills within my chest, openining out through four pairs of slits in my ribs out of which I exhaled water–ah dammit. I’m no educated scholar and no place to explain how my lungs, or gills, or whatever they were, functioned to help me breathe…)

But I did know that they needed water.

Water that I’d coughed out from the breath I was holding, now spilled out onto the floor and of no use to me.

My panicked gasps only drew the stinging, unfulfilling air into my chest, choking me with its emptiness. I struggled feebly against the captain’s unrelenting boot while he, with his one green eye and cruel, crooked grin, gazed sadistically down at me.

“Well, well, well,” he growled. “Looks like our catch of the day is trying to make a getaway, eh?”

I flopped helplessly under his weight, turning my head desperately toward the bucket in the cargo hold and the life-giving liquid it contained. They’d locked me into the hold with only that bucket to keep me alive, with just enough water to breathe out of.

Water that was hopelessly out of my reach.

Two crew members, probably roused by the noise of the fiasco, entered the hold to take a look and bellowed in laughter, cruelly mocking my torment. “Looks like the little fishy wants the water,” guffawed one.

The captain cackled, “Listen here, fish-boy, do as I say, and maybe we’ll let you live once you hit land. You’re gonna be worth a fortune once the merchants get their eyes on a real, live Mer,” he gloated, greedily eyeing me from the top of my pale-haired head to my crimson tail fin. “But of course, if you refuse to cooperate…"

He threateningly laid a hand onto my precious bucket.

Oh no.

”…then we could just let 'cha dry up and die so you’ll finally shut up, eh? I’m pretty sure your smelly carcass would still be worth some gold, heh heh heh. You know the folks by the southlands say that eating the flesh of a mermaid will make you live forever?“

I gagged at the thought, in addition to my gags of suffocation.

"That is, unless you wanna live, eh fish-boy? So what’s it gonna be? You gonna keep still quit thrashing about?”

I hated to comply to the disgusting man’s wishes, but I had no choice. Begrudgingly, I nodded in approval.

“There’s a good fishy,” he crooned. “They’ll find a nice home for you at the freak show or somethin, heh heh.”

He released his foot from my back and at once I struggled toward the bucket, frantically gasping for air. My chest burned, my throat ached, my skin itched, my entire body was violently begging for water.

Water.

The captain and his crewmates still said something as they walked up back from the deck, but their words were drowned out in the dizzying haze that clouded my mind, seconds away from losing consciousness. I squirmed and wriggled and flopped frantically toward the pail of salvation, with but a single thought racing through my mind:

“waterwaterwaterwaterwaterWATERWATERWATERWATER–”

With a loud splash I dunked my head into the bucket, inhaling convulsively as water rushed into my gills again. Despite my dire situation I at least felt slightly more safe now, now that I wasn’t suffocating anymore.

It felt good to breathe again.

It wasn’t long before the last of my strength left me, and I passed out. I was a pathetic sight, pale like a drowned corpse with my head dunked in a pail, my graceful fins all slopped limply onto the wooden floor like wet rags, lying motionlessly upon the floor and barely alive.

But nonetheless, still alive.

————————–

I had no clue how many hours had passed when I was awoken by a loud scuffle above on deck. Taking a deep breath of water, I lifted my head out of the pail to see what was going on, just as the captain’s crew tossed a heavy, struggling bundle into the hold, which landed next to me with a loud thud.

“Why don'tcha stay down there with the man-fish, you thieving whore of a sea rat!” yelled a crewmember from above.

“Do you think it’s gonna eat her?” whispered another.

Her?

Holding my breath, I cautiously crawled toward the thrashing, wailing bundle and pulled off the tattered dirty cloth covering it, taking my first look at what was going to be my new room-mate for the next few days to come.

It was a human girl.

Her dark, curly hair covered much of her face, but I could see the surprise and terror in her big, brown eyes as she quickly looked at whatever had pulled the bag off of her head. She stopped struggling against her bonds and stared at me, a faint, terrified whimper emerging from the back of her throat.

I don’t think she’s ever seen a merman before.

Pulling myself back to my bucket to take another breath, I gazed upon the newcomer. She was a brown-skinned little one, clad in colorful fabrics and with strange, shiny stones dangling from her ears, and her hair, though messy, beautifully crowned her narrow, elegant face.

Beautiful.

Maybe I was going mad from the lack of water, but somehow this accursed, monstrous landwalker was beautiful.

A pain in my chest suddenly snapped my mesmerized gaze from her and I dunked my head back into the bucket to take another breath. Her frightened gaze turned into a sort of horrified fascination as she struggled into a sitting position to get a better look at the strange flopping, gasping, scaly creature before her.

“W-w-what are you?” she stuttered.

Peering up from my bucket, I met her gaze and nodded, pointing to myself.

“You-you can understand me?”

I nodded, eager to make a connection with this fascinating being, sure, one of those landwalkers, but still, company after being alone for way too long.

“Can you-can you talk?”

I shook my head in slight dismay. Of course I was able to speak- underwater, that is. But I couldn’t speak without water, or even breathe, for that matter, so for now, some nods and shakes had to do.

She looked down at me, at my dry and flaking scales and at the numerous bleeding cuts I had sustained from flopping about on the splintery floor. Her face turned into a wince of pity.

“Those bastards,” she muttered. “Look what they’ve done to you, you poor…thing.”

Poor thing, eh.

She was just as much a 'poor thing’ as I was, her ankles and wrists bound in ropes, bruises and cuts blemishing her face, her clothes tattered and torn, and locked up in a cargo ship bound for prison or death.

They’d treated me with unspeakable cruelty, but it seemed that they treated their own kind no better. Those bastards, indeed.

“Say,” she whispered, after a moment. “You couldn’t be one of those Mer-people I’ve been hearing about, are you? You look an awful lot like what the old sailors spoke of, one half handsome lad, one half scaly fish, hmm?”

I nodded.

“Eh. I wonder how a creature like you somehow ended up in this shithole of a boat.”

I wished I could tell her, how I was hauled up in a net, tied up by the crew, how I chewed through my binds with my sharp teeth and whacked them around with my tail, taking almost half the crew to subdue me. Boy, that would have been a tale to tell, if only I could speak to her, outside of the water–

Wait.

Ropes.

Sharp teeth.

Taking another breath from my bucket, I dug my hands into the floor and pulled myself toward her, my tail scraping painfully across the wooden floor. She inched backwards slightly, as I grabbed her bound hands, causing her to whimper uneasily.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” she cried, as she saw a flash of my pearly white pointed teeth.

I raised a finger gently, trying to tell her that I meant her no harm. I didn’t know if she understood, but I started getting to work.

She held back a muffled scream. Perhaps she thought I was going to devour her?

Her terror quickly vanished though, as the ropes around her wrists snapped. Suddenly, a look of joyful realization crept across her face.

“Oh,” she gasped. “You’re helping me escape.”

I nodded.

It wasn’t long before my sharp teeth made quick work of the bindings around her ankles. She stretched her legs in relief, as I retreated to take another breath from my bucket.

I couln’t help but gaze at her legs. They seemed so strange, so alien, almost like a pair of extra arms where a tail should be, but with stubby little fingers that were useless for grasping. They were so bizarre and yet strangely enchanting, and I couldn’t help but gaze in awe as she rose to a standing position, her unwieldy limbs supporting her weight in this choking emptiness of an atmosphere.

She headed up the steps of the cargo hold, up toward the deck. My heart sank as I realized she was leaving me.

She looked back and met my gaze once more.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She started to head up the steps but suddenly hesitated, and she turned back again and I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said sorrowfully. “I’m sorry I can’t take you with me.”

But as she took one long look around the cargo hold, he stopped in surprise.

“Or can I?”

———————-

It was a stupid solution.

A novel, but utterly stupid solution.

She had located two other buckets in the hold, and had filled them with water from one of the barrels. She placed one at the foot of the stairs, and another one out onto the deck. Fortunately, the crew were all asleep at this point, and there was none to witness the strange sight of a girl hauling a bucket out onto the deck of a ship in the middle of the night.

“Well, here goes nuthin’,” she groaned, as she stepped back down into the hold. “You’re clearly too heavy for me to carry, so you’ll have to crawl there on your own. But at least I helped, a little. It’s the best I can do.”

I smiled and nodded back at her.

“It’s the least I can do for the merman who saved my life.”

And with a swift step she was gone, heading up onto the deck to freedom.

Slowly I began to drag myself toward the bucket at the base of the stairs. It was actually a pretty clever idea, I couldn’t get past this point without suffocating and having to head back. She’d given me a couple of rest stops to breathe from.

Taking a deep breath from the bucket below the stairs, I headed up the steps one rung at a time. It was still difficult with my tail weighing me down, but with a gillful of water from the second bucket I had the strength to haul myself upward, step by step until i flopped exhausted onto the deck.

Before me was the third and final bucket. One more stop and I was almost there to freedom.

Having taken a breath, one last breath before my escape, I headed toward the railing of the ship. The sound of the waves was tantilizingly close, the salty smell of the breeze, the splashing of the water onto the deck…

I was almost free.

Suddenly, just as I was a few drags away from the railing, I heard a loud scream behind me. I turned and looked, and to my horror, I saw the landwalker girl, caught in the iron grasp of the evil, bloodthirsty captain, screaming in terror as he seized her by one arm.

“Well, if it ain’t the little bitch, trying to make a getaway in one of our lifeboats!” He gazed out at me, laying upon the wooden floor. “And you’ve freed our little fish friend too, eh? I won’t get a bag of gold for him now, but your blood would make a pretty neat consolation prize, you wretched whore!”

He lifted up a curved blade and pointed it at her throat.

Damn it, was I ever in a dilemma.

On one side, the freedom of the ocean just a few feet away.

And on the other, the life of a landwalker girl.

And never have I thought I would make such a decision.

In the biggest twist in all my life I found myself turning away from the sea, giving up my chance at escape for a landwalker girl I’d barely even known for a day.

And yet somewhere in my flopping, suffocating, water-deprived heart I knew I wouldn’t regret that decision.

——————-

With a terrible unearthly cry I launched myself at the captain, pinning him to the floor. I never even knew how I managed to make such a horrible sound outside the water, but I didn’t even care at the moment.

I was way too fucking pissed off.

I viciously tore at the captain with all my hate, with all the torment and suffering I had endured at his hand for the past few days, with all the brutality he had inflicted onto this poor landwalker girl I didn’t even have a name for, clawing and biting at his face with the ferocity of a furious shark, thrashing about wildly on deck…

“ARGHHH! GET THIS THING OFF ME!” he cried out, muffled. He dropped his blade, but he still had the landwalker girl in his grasp, his horrid, disgusting grasp…

…and in one final act of hateful cruelty, he shoved her overboard.

With a loud scream she plummeted into the ocean and hit the surf with a splash. I snapped out of my bloodthirsty rage and looked out at where she had fallen.

“Heh heh heh…” laughed the captain, pinned to the floor and bleeding all over his face. “If I can’t have a merman to sell…then you can’t have your slimy little slut either!” He cackled evilly, his green eye gazing at me, mocking me, tempting my rage…

And in a fit of fury, as a little parting gift, I sank my clawed hand into his face and ripped his damn eye out.

Pity he only had one.

Gasping for air, I flopped after the landwalker girl, hauling myself over the railing and leaping into the safety of the ocean just as the blinded captain’s screams of terror began to rouse the rest of the crew.

—————-

She was alive, but barely.

She drifted limply down as she sank, and I caught a glimpse of her dark mop of hair just as my body hit the surface.

It felt wonderful to be in the ocean again.

But I didn’t have the luxury of time to enjoy it.

For the very same water that gave me life, that breathed and lived in, was slowly choking the life out of her. Oh the painful irony.

I pumped my tail as fast as I could, with my usual speed and grace that I was denied of on land, and in the blink of an eye I grasped her around her waist and began to pull her up.

She broke the surface gasping and choking, desperate for the air as desperate I was for the water, clinging onto me as tightly as she could as I held her above the surface, allowing her to catch a few breaths. She clung onto me tightly, sputtering, as we swam away from the wretched boat that had been our prison, and the captain’s screams of pain and rage faded away into the distance.

Once we had cleared enough distance we stopped at the shallows, next to a small island that jutted out from beyond the reef. It was small and deserted, but it was a place for her to be safe until she was rescued.

As we bobbed in the clear green waters, she spoke.

“Thank you for saving me. Again.”

With a smile, I gazed at her and pointed downwards. She seemed to get the message, taking a deep breath and dipping her head below the water.

And now that I was under water, now that I could breathe once more, I was finally able to speak again.

“Thank you,” I told her.

#submission to ghosti #merman #female character #merfolk #sfw #not my writing #submission

67 notes · View notes

frodos-bizarre-adventure · 6 years ago

Text

Merman x Bandit Girl

A little thing I originally posted on @monstersandmaw (and also to @monsterkinkmeme) and while they were nice enough to share it on their blog, they did say that their site was exclusively for their own works and and for prompts.

So again, apologies to you guys to any inconveniences I might have caused. I'm just rather new to Tumblr and still trying to get the hang of stuff, and I just wanted to share a little thing for you guys' viewing pleasure. Feel free to share it from here instead if you wish, and hope you enjoy it :)

⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫

Escape.

If only I could make it up to the deck, I thought, as I reached the bottom step of the stairs and placed a webbed hand onto the wooden rung. None of the crew were probably awake at this time.

All I’d have to do was to scale the short flight of steps, up to the deck, drag myself across the ship, haul myself up over the railing and leap overboard, to freedom.

Which was easier said than done, when you got no legs and holding your breath the whole time.

With great effort, I tried to pull myself up the few steps, my wet, slippery hands trying to find purchase onto the steps while my tail dragged uselessly behind like dead weight.

Damn, this was humiliating.

I had been too arrogant, and now I paid the price.

I wanted to see for myself just how dreadful these creatures were, and see it I did.

“Going somewhere, eh, fish-boy?”

(Well, not exactly lungs. I have no lungs and cannot breathe air. They were more like gills within my chest, openining out through four pairs of slits in my ribs out of which I exhaled water–ah dammit. I’m no educated scholar and in no place to explain how my lungs, or gills, or whatever they were, functioned to help me breathe…)

But I did know that they needed water.

Water that I’d coughed out from the breath I was holding, now spilled out onto the floor and of no use to me.

“Well, well, well,” he growled. “Looks like our catch of the day is trying to make a getaway, eh?”

Water that was hopelessly out of my reach.

My head began to spin as my vision started fading. I needed water very soon, or else... or else I would die.

He threateningly laid a hand onto my precious bucket.

Oh no.

He knew I couldn't survive very long without water, and now he was using it against my mind, to break my will.

Please. No.

”…then we could just let ‘cha dry up and die so you’ll finally shut up, eh? I’m pretty sure your smelly carcass would still be worth some gold, heh heh heh. You know the folks by the southlands say that eating the flesh of a mermaid will make you live forever?“

I gagged at the thought, in addition to my gags of suffocation.

“That is, unless you wanna live, eh fish-boy? So what’s it gonna be? You gonna keep still quit thrashing about?”

I hated to comply to the disgusting man’s wishes, but I had no choice. Begrudgingly, I nodded in approval.

“There’s a good fishy,” he crooned. “They’ll find a nice home for you at the freak show or somethin, heh heh.”

He released the crushing weight of his foot from my back and at once I struggled toward the bucket, frantically gasping for air, dry, scorching air that stung my parched gills and choked me from within. My chest burned, my throat ached, my skin itched, my entire body was violently begging for water.

Water.

The captain and his crewmates still said something as they walked up back from the deck, but their words were drowned out in the dizzying haze that clouded my mind, seconds away from losing consciousness. I squirmed and wriggled and flopped frantically, desperately, toward the pail of salvation, with nothing, none but a single thought racing through my mind:

“waterwaterwaterwaterwaterWATERWATERWATERWATER–”

It was a relief from the pain of drying out.

It felt good to breathe again.

But nonetheless, still alive.

————————–

“Why don'tcha stay down there with the man-fish, you thieving whore of a sea rat!” yelled a crewmember from above.

“Do you think it’s gonna eat her?” whispered another.

Her?

It was a human girl.

Her dark, curly hair covered much of her face, but I could see the surprise and terror in her big, brown eyes as she quickly looked at whatever had pulled the bag off of her head. She stopped struggling against her bonds, thick and heavy ropes knotted firmly around her ankles and wrists, and stared at me, a faint, terrified whimper emerging from the back of her throat.

I don’t think she’s ever seen a merman before.

Pulling myself back to my bucket to take another breath, I curiously inspected the newcomer from a distance. She was a brown-skinned little one, clad in colorful fabrics and with strange, shiny stones dangling from her ears, and her hair, though messy, beautifully crowned her narrow, elegant face.

Beautiful.

Maybe I was going mad from the lack of water, but somehow this accursed, monstrous landwalker was beautiful.

A pain in my chest suddenly snapped my mesmerized gaze from her and I dunked my head back into the bucket to take another breath. Her frightened glare turned into a sort of horrified fascination as she struggled into a sitting position to get a better look at the strange flopping, gasping, scaly creature before her.

“W-w-what are you?” she stuttered.

Peering up from my bucket, I met her gaze and nodded, pointing to myself.

“You-you can understand me?”

I nodded, eager to make a connection with this fascinating being, sure, one of those landwalkers, but still, company after being alone for way too long.

“Can you-can you talk?”

She looked down at me, at my dry and flaking scales and at the numerous bleeding cuts I had sustained from flopping about on the splintery floor. Her face turned into a wince of pity.

“Those bastards,” she muttered. “Look what they’ve done to you, you poor…thing.”

Poor thing, eh.

They’d treated me with unspeakable cruelty, but it seemed that they treated their own kind no better. Those bastards, indeed.

I nodded.

“Eh. I wonder how a creature like you somehow ended up in this shithole of a boat.”

I wished I could speak.

Wait.

Ropes.

Sharp teeth.

Taking another breath from my bucket, I dug my hands into the floor and pulled myself toward her, my tail scraping painfully across the wooden floor. She inched backwards slightly, seemingly alarmed by my sudden approach, as I grabbed her bound hands, causing her to whimper uneasily.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” she cried, as she saw a flash of my pearly white pointed teeth.

I raised a finger gently, trying to tell her that I meant her no harm. I didn’t know if she understood, but I started getting to work.

She held back a muffled scream. Perhaps she thought I was going to devour her?

Was that what the old sailors had taught her about merfolk?

Her terror quickly vanished though, as the ropes around her wrists snapped. Suddenly, a look of joyful realization crept across her face.

“Oh,” she gasped. “You’re helping me escape.”

I nodded.

It wasn’t long before my sharp teeth made quick work of the bindings around her ankles. She stretched her legs in relief, as I retreated to take another breath from my bucket.

I couln’t help but gaze at her legs. They seemed so strange, so alien, almost like a pair of extra arms where a tail should be, but with stubby little fingers that were useless for grasping. They were so bizarre and yet strangely enchanting, and I couldn’t help but marvel in awe as she rose to a standing position, her unwieldy limbs supporting her weight in this choking emptiness of an atmosphere.

She headed up the steps of the cargo hold, up toward the deck. My heart sank as I realized she was leaving me.

She looked back and met eyes with once more.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She started to head up the steps but suddenly hesitated, and she turned back again and I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said sorrowfully. “I’m sorry I can’t take you with me.”

But as she took one long look around the cargo hold, she stopped in surprise.

As if having a sudden grand realization.

“Or can I?”

———————-

It was a stupid solution.

A novel, but utterly stupid solution.

She had located two other buckets in the hold, and had filled them with water from one of the barrels that had been placed on a high shelf. She placed one at the foot of the stairs, and another one out onto the deck. Fortunately, the crew were all asleep at this point, and there was none to witness the strange sight of a girl hauling a bucket of water out onto the deck of a ship in the middle of the night.

I smiled and nodded back at her.

She smiled back. “It’s the least I can do for the merman who saved my life.”

And with a swift step she was gone, heading up onto the deck to freedom.

Literally.

Taking a deep breath from the bucket below the stairs, I headed up the steps one rung at a time. It was still difficult with my arms doing all the work and my tail weighing me down, but with a gillful of water from the second bucket I had the strength to haul myself upward, step by step until I flopped exhausted onto the deck.

Before me was the third and final bucket. One more stop and I was almost there to freedom.

Having taken a breath from it, one last breath before my escape, I headed toward the railing of the ship. The sound of the waves was tantilizingly close, the salty smell of the breeze, the splashing of the water onto the deck…

I was almost free.

“Well, if it ain’t the little bitch, trying to make a getaway in one of our lifeboats!” He glared out with his one eye at me, laying upon the wooden floor. “And you’ve freed our little fish friend too, eh? I won’t get a bag of gold for him now, but your blood would make a pretty neat consolation prize, you wretched whore!”

He lifted up a curved blade and pointed it at her throat.

Damn it, was I ever in a dilemma.

On one side, the freedom of the ocean just a few feet away.

And on the other, the life of a landwalker girl.

And never have I thought I would make such an unexpected choice.

In the biggest turn of events in all my life I found myself turning away from the sea, giving up my chance at escape for a landwalker girl I’d barely even known for a day.

And yet somewhere in my flopping, suffocating, water-deprived heart I knew I wouldn’t regret that decision.

——————-

With a terrible unearthly cry I launched myself at the captain, pinning him to the floor. I never even knew how I managed to make such a horrible sound outside the water, or how I'd covered such a distance in just a few flops, but I didn’t even care at the moment.

I was way too fucking pissed off.

I viciously tore at the captain with my claws, teeth, and all my hate, with all the torment and suffering I had endured at his hand for the past few days, with all the brutality he had inflicted onto this poor landwalker girl I didn’t even have a name for, clawing and biting at his face with the ferocity of a furious shark, thrashing about wildly on deck…

“ARGHHH! GET THIS THING OFF ME!” he cried out, muffled. He dropped his blade, but he still had the landwalker girl, who had fallen to the floor in the tussle, in his grasp, his horrid, disgusting grasp…

…and in one final act of hateful cruelty, he shoved her overboard.

With a loud scream she plummeted into the ocean and hit the surf with a splash. I snapped out of my bloodthirsty rage and looked out at where she had fallen.

And in a fit of fury, as a little parting gift, I sank my clawed hand into his face and ripped his damn eye out.

Pity he only had one.

Gasping for air, I flopped after the landwalker girl, hauling myself with great effort over the railing and leaping into the safety of the ocean just as the blinded captain’s screams of terror began to rouse the rest of the crew.

—————-

She was alive, but barely.

She drifted limply down as she sank, and I caught a glimpse of her dark mop of hair just as my body hit the surface.

It felt wonderful to be in the ocean again.

But I didn’t have the luxury of time to enjoy it.

For the very same water that gave me life, that soothed my parched scales, that I breathed and lived in, was slowly choking the life out of her. Oh, the painful irony.

I pumped my tail as fast as I could, with my usual speed and grace that I was denied of on land, and in the blink of an eye I grasped her around her waist and began to pull her up.

She broke the surface gasping and choking, desperate for the air as desperate I was for the water, clinging onto me as tightly as she could as I held her above the surface, allowing her to catch a few breaths. She clung onto me tightly, sputtering, as we swam away from the wretched boat that had been our prison, and soon the ship, and the captain’s screams of pain and rage, faded away into the distance.

Once we had cleared enough distance, after several hours or so, we stopped at the shallows, next to a small island that jutted out from beyond the reef. It was small and deserted, but it was a place for her to be safe until she was rescued.

She clung tightly onto my back, visibly exhausted but elated to be alive, and free.

As we bobbed just above the surface, in the sunlit clear green waters, she spoke.

“Thank you for saving me. Again." she whispered into my ear.

With a smile, I looked toward her and pointed downwards. She seemed to get the message, taking a deep breath and dipping her head below the water.

And now that I was under water, now that I could breathe once more, I was finally able to release my feelings that had been trapped in me for so long.

I was finally able to speak again.

For the first time to her.

“Thank you,” I told her.

#merman #monsterromance #bandit girl #fantasy #merman x bandit girl

2 notes · View notes

scoundrels-in-love · 6 years ago

Note

Oooh the 80's songs asks are SO GOOD. Gimme billie jean, uptown girl, born in the usa, take on me, footloose, i want candy, eye of the tiger, and karma chameleon. Tried to keep a short list but so good!

Thank you so much for asking, darling. This is under cut because I got very lengthy about ‘what is your home town like’ question.

Ask me 80′s iconic song ask?

billie jean: what do you notice more in a song - the drums or bassline?

Definitely the drums, I still have hard time distinguishing bass in most music. I know it’s there and if it’d go away, I’d terribly miss it, I appreciate it, but it’s like a caretaking spirit I can’t see for most of the time.

uptown girl: what’s your favourite book trope?

Same as fics, honestly? Good enemies to friends to lovers (foes to bros to hoes), for example. In a lot of ways, I don’t differentiate books from fanfictions that much, especially the romantic/tropey books...

born in the u.s.a.: what’s your home town like?

Hoo boy. This is such an invite to picture fest, but I’ll spare my followers, lol. My hometown is truly just a town, just some 25k people here. Nonetheless, it’s one of the biggest in the country, so there’s that. My town is someplace riddled with memories, someplace that I pass certain places with relief ‘ah, that store is still here, 20 years later’ or with twine of sadness if it is not. I draw comfort from the constant things and learn to accept the changes - the fixed roads, the bike trails, the truly prettified and taken care of small parks and mill pond area. For, yes, we have a mill pond with many ducks and a fountain, and lot of nice benches and trees.

And three parks, though only one is well maintained now and we, as community, rallied so more old trees wouldn’t be cut down unnecessarily - and won. It’s right next to the cinema, nice cafe and one of the banks in town, near our shopping mall and our local government building just a bit further which sits right next to almost 800 year old church and castle ruins. Across the street, there is bookstore, community center and clinic and now there’s a small concert hall in itself. That is how tiny and compact the heart of my city is, with young trees planted along the streets, with huge flower tiered flower bed in the center that in late November/early December becomes the standing spot for a towering Christmas tree, twinkling slightly into January.

But of course, there is much beyond the immediate reaches of this center. The marketplace. My actual favorite park near it, next to fire depot, with old trees that are weary from being forgotten and creaking swings, where benches rest under Jasmines, Lilacs and Linden that smell so sweetly in Spring. It’s near one of the schools (we have some 5, all over the city), the marketplace and the Millpond, the street surrounds it from both sides, yet it is a quiet place that the noises don’t reach, where the wind comes to sit on top of the swings and hum softly.

Our country’s biggest native river runs wide and steady through it, overlooked by three bridges of which one was recently rebuilt. I still remember crossing it and feeling the boards creak underneath my feet, as it was being rebuilt/reworked. As you come off of it, on your right there is part of our University and our big library in same magnificent building, something that was built some 10 years ago, and sometimes I miss the winding stairs of Children’s library, the wooden board walls and another level of tiny, narrow stairs that took you to pillow riddled room where you could participate in events. But the new library is beautiful and light and holds some beautiful memories for me, too. One day, I’ll test VR out there!

And a bit ahead, on left, there’s the huge bus station central, also recently, just last year or so, rebuilt. Then the main street splits in two, the barrier area leaving space for some old buildings and some newer ones. One of the streets runs right by an old creek, now overgrown - once home to bunch of beavers that have now returned to the main part of the river and only ducks stop by here now.

There is train station, little used now, that end of the town generally quiet and with a sense of going to sleep, like someone might before the End. On the other end of city, many new huge shops for cars and furniture have sprung from ground, along an uneven road to the hospital that can never be fully repaired because it is the only way to access the compound, hidden among the trees. The main cemetery is also there, the Orthodox one more in the center of city, but on the side.

And, oh, trees and flowers. There are many of those, all over the place. And many small streets that I have not explored. Little glimpses of peace and magic, in that one specific moment I sometime manage to catch them in my photographies. There are gaping spots where half finished buildings used to lay and gaze at passerby with empty windows, while some have finally seen completion. One becomes vacant time and time again, they say a spirit there is uneasy. My mom felt it was Her Home.

There are huge, burly apartment compounds all over the city, built after the town was burned down at the end of the World War 2. No one knows who did it, both Russian and German allies are blamed, seen to help start the fire... The buildings are built with hands of war prisoners and in that, remind me a lot of our truly old buildings, the church and castle ruins who, too, had unwilling builder hands used. Only few pre-war buildings remain. Now, many of the bulking apartment complexes are being renovated and given fresher look.

I belong here, and I don’t. I belong to the memories and the glimpses of something I catch sometime, I belong to the bus routes I took with her that do not exist anymore, I belong to benches that have been moved, I belong to the lilac bushes that were ruined carelessly in renovations or just chopped down, to trees that always burn red, just different shades, over a river-bend seen from bridge nearest to our house. To the way daffodils turn our apartment yard yellow and then white. To the bookstore that has not even lost most of its old employees, but have gained a cat in the years I have lived in this town.

I could go on and on, more and more things come to my mind. But I will finish it now, simply like this: My home town is the definition of a changing yet constant spot. An anchor that is covered with rust but also wrapped up with a pretty ribbon.

take on me: could you reach the high note?

Pretty sure I could not!! My voice is rather low naturally and I can’t really sing, so nope. I’ve not specifically tested, but I don’t think so. I do have high pitched laughter at times, though. Hmm.

footloose: favourite musical?

I do not have one, oops. Never seen musical, other than one very vague memory of our version of Cats when I was 7 or so. I was not impressed. Do Disney movies count??

i want candy: chocolate or sweets?

Is it not the same thing?? I could understand cookies vs sweets... Okay, anyway. Chocolate. I don’t eat candy much and so much of candy is... actually chocolate?? Honestly, if you pick chocolate, you can get away with eating most things, like cakes, etc. (Why am I treating this like a question ‘if you can have only one for rest of your life?’? LOL) And there are so many flavors and fillings!!

eye of the tiger: favourite 80s movie?

I have no idea what counts as 80′s movie, to be honest, so I am not sure, I think I am more of early 90′s baby. I googled and from options presented, I have seen and enjoyed The Karate Kid, Back to the Future, of course the Star Wars movie.... Oh you know what? Neverending story. I was upset it didn’t show the book as I wanted, but I still enjoyed. So, it’s sort of toss up between that and Star Wars ones, though, tbh I was... not that big on the movies, ever.

karma chameleon: what do you like most about your appearance?

My eyes. They have a beautiful color, both my mom and other people have described water-like, both in the blue-gray color itself and how it changes, depending on light and my mood. They have a darker circle around them and my pupil is over-sensitive to light (but not only). I also do like my hair color, as much as it is always in state of darkening or lightening. If only my hair wasn’t so frail and damaged from nothing else than existing. (Hey, if that doesn’t sum me up in general...)

#ask games answered #this got FUCKING LONG #about me #lovely people #putting up with my bs #diaphonie #sent on a cloud

2 notes · View notes

ahiddenpath · 7 years ago

Note

Regarding the stage of Digimon, in your opinion, what are the characters with better and worst development or characterization?

Hmm, good question! As you say, I can only give my opinion- everyone’s interpretation of characters and their growth is subjective- but I will try my best below the cut :) Spoilers for the digimon stage play below the cut!!!!

I would argue that most of the cast didn’t develop or change during the play, not really. Mostly they acknowledged existing truths and fears that were already causing tension inside of them, partially because of that all-important anniversary, partially from exposure to the other Chosen and sensing that they’re all facing similar tensions, and partially because of... being literally held prisoner by their own desires. But then, maybe opening your eyes to something you refused to acknowledge before is growth, even though the pieces were already in your hands! I think the distinction is probably unimportant?

In a way, the pains of growing up showcased in the stage play are relatable to anyone who has gone through that difficult stage between childhood and adulthood. During one of my writing classes as an undergrad, the students had to submit two stories each for peer review, and about 70% of them dealt specifically with the fear of facing a life beyond our schooling. The difficulties the Chosen face in the play are painfully familiar. But as Koushiro points out, it’s truly the weight of August first bowing their backs, and as Yamato admits, the fear of being unable to spend time with his digimon partner plays a huge role in his fear.

Basically, the Chosen are normal kids, but they’re also not. Although the viewers know and love this about our babies, I think the stage play showcased this idea beautifully. I’m not sure how to rank everyone’s growth by number, so let me try talking about them one-by-one and seeing where things land?

Taichi

As most of the Chosen point out in the first act, Taichi has been subdued since the events of Saikai. Even so, he leaps on the idea of a camping reunion on August 1st, surprising Hikari and placing her on the alert. His over-enthusiasm indicates that he’s eager to step back into his fearless leader role, if only for a few days, especially in a safe setting.

Taichi spends most of the play pretending he’s fine (when he clearly isn’t), and it even seems that he considers remaining hostage in Etemon’s... ‘playing house’ scenario rather than start a fight. He also offers himself as a sacrifice if the others are spared and begs for mercy, hoping to protect his friends by taking the fall for them. Eventually, with prompting from Sora, Hikari, and Koushiro and help from Agumon, Taichi realizes that his new ability to consider consequences and ask questions before he fights is growth, not regression, and he regains the ability to fight, with the implication that his methods will be more effective than ever.

Taichi probably has the clearest ‘before and after’ picture from the stage play.

Yamato

It was really fun to see Yamato hang out with his band! There’s a sense that his band mates simultaneously look up to him and take every opportunity to tease him, lol.

Although he says little of consequence during the group campfire talk, Yamato opens up more when he’s alone with Taichi. There’s a sense that he’s trying to draw information out of Taichi by offering some in turn, but it doesn’t really get anywhere. He gets to the good stuff towards the end, when he admits to Jyou that his fears aren’t really based in becoming an adult, or even in growing apart from the Chosen. His biggest fear is that, some day, he won’t be able to see Gabumon as much. Part of me isn’t sure why he’s bringing that up now- my understanding is that the gates to the Digital World have been opening and closing beyond their control mostly all along, unrelated to Yamato growing up. But his point still stands; Gabumon is his most precious friend, and it must often feel like Yamato’s ability to spend time with him is out of his control.

I got the sense that Yamato mostly needed to speak his fears aloud, but Jyou also assured him that his fears were normal, and that the best thing to do is to make his time with Gabumon count and move forward with courage. I’m not sure how much Yamato grew... But I thought everything he said in his scene with Jyou was interesting and loving, and reflected that teddy bear nature hiding beneath his outer tundra.

Sora

I’ll be honest, while the girls had nice moments, I was a little put out at how comparatively little they were showcased. Like everyone but Jyou, Sora was not forthcoming at the campfire scene, and she “slept” through most of the “girl talk” scene. The play gave the sense that Sora is worried about her fellow Chosen, especially Taichi, and communicated her protective and loving nature, but she wasn’t given much opportunity to shine until her final heart-to-heart with Mimi. Mostly she talks about the self she’s always been- preferring quietly supporting others to thinking about her future and understanding herself. After musing about herself a bit, she decides that it’s time to start tackling the issues of learning who she is and what she wants.

That’s a beautiful realization and decision for anyone! i would have liked to see a lot more Sora, though.

Koushiro

Compared to the others, I don’t think Koushiro has a moment where he stands up and makes some kind of discovery unique to himself. While he (awesomely) points out that all of the Chosen are stuck in this Digital World pocket because they don’t want to lose August 1st and everything it means to them, he doesn’t say much about himself and his individual struggles. All he really says is that, while he likes computers, he’s not sure what he wants to do in the future, and he’s interested in attempting to explore the world around him without the help of computers. (Although I guess you could argue that last bit IS a Big Deal).

I don’t mind, though, because his characterization was so great during the play. He was sassy (“You’re the closest thing we have to a cave man, Taichi-san!”), an intelligent planner (sensing an initial problem, understanding the nature of their plight, and even uncovering the psychological component), supportive towards everyone (especially Taichi, something conspicuously absent in Tri), proactive, polite, sweet, and a bit socially clueless. The things that I dislike about Tri!Koushiro are absent: perviness, fashion disasters, occasional uncomfortably weird behavior, a lack of proactiveness compared to Adventure, and a tendency to cut himself off from the group instead of working together with them.

I don’t know if he developed over the course of the play, but for what it’s worth, stage play Koushiro soothes my tormented soul, lol.

Mimi

In the first act, she seems preoccupied with... making the camping trip harder than it should be. We later learn that she wants to echo their circumstances during their adventures by leaving supplies behind (I think she actually brought supplies back then, though, which is kind of funny). During the “girl talk” scene, Mimi seems to be pushing for light, stereotypical subject matter: crushes and ghost stories. While the dialogue itself doesn’t contribute much, it does create a sense that Mimi’s trying to distract herself from her thoughts.

Mimi later says that the future is difficult for her to think about, because she wants to do so many things. The more she grows, the more she questions her ability to explore her many interests; isn’t it more realistic to focus on one thing? Palmon convinces her that she can do whatever she wants to do. It’s a sweet and very Mimi-esque moment. I enjoyed it a lot, and I thought Mimi’s actress did an incredible job, but Mimi’s initial pushy and actively unhelpful behavior combined with a comparatively short payoff scene pushes her characterization and arc towards the bottom of my personal ranking.

Jyou

Jyou didn’t ‘grow’ in the sense that he was the one Chosen who is calm about his future, but the fact that he’s in that position during the stage play is amazing to me. You guys probably know I have a huuuuge soft spot for Jyou, but... Just the fact that he went on the trip without an argument, even for one day, was a victory. And he put so much effort into helping Taichi and Yamato, which is wonderful, too!

I loved his scene with Yamato... While Yamato did most of the talking and discovering, Jyou supported him and listened. It’s kind of... like the opposite of what happened between them in the diner? That isn’t a perfect metaphor, but this time, Jyou went out of his way to help Yamato, instead of vice versa. Senpai is so grown up now ;__; At the same time, he’s still strung too tight about his grades and achieving his goals, so he still feels like our beloved dork face.

Senpai, notice me *___*

Takeru

In my opinion, Takeru drew the short straw in the stage play. He is upfront about his fears about everyone parting ways, and he seems willing to talk about his hope that he can write in the future without ending up hating it (although he tends to get cut off when he tries). We glimpse his sweet and mischievous sides, but he spends most of the climax looking lost and near tears while Hikari remains calm and reassures him. I finished the play without much of an impression from him. I think he mentioned that he used to feel stronger and more single-minded, and now he often feels more frightened and unsure? I don’t recall any closure for him, though.

Happily, I find Takeru’s Tri persona lovable and fun enough that I don’t really mind his comparative lack of presence here, but I do kind of wonder why he got left out like he did.

Hikari

Hikari was interesting in that her role as a concerned observer, and someone comparatively grounded in reality, was very visible in the play. Although she mostly remained in the background, Hikari was vocal about her worries for Taichi, and she was the first to point out that something was wrong with Etemon’s ‘playing house’ situation. But despite giving off a sense that she is calmer and more aware than the others, she wasn’t given much material to work with in the play. I was happy to see her interacting with Taichi- in my opinion, Tri pushes her away from him and towards Takeru to a way that sometimes feels like a stretch- but I would have liked to see more from her in general. Again, the “girl talk” scene featured the gals, but didn’t actually give them much meaningful material. Did she talk about her hopes for the future, beyond affirming that she wants to teach kindergarten?

I guess overall, it looks like Taichi was the main character of the stage play. Yamato, Koushiro, and Jyou have roughly the most influence after that, followed by Sora, followed by Hikari, Mimi, and Takeru. While I have complaints, I think the stage play did a great job portraying the characters. Ultimately, though, I think they could have fit more material for some of the characters if they didn’t spend so much time on dialogue that hit dead ends over and over, and if the “girl talk” scene was less about... crushes and ghost stories and more about... the girls.

Thanks for the ask!

#digimon adventure tri stage play #digimon stage play #digimon tri stage play #Anonymous

20 notes · View notes

thesselsewhere · 7 years ago

Text

Six Months ( Marliza )

This is my first attempt at anything in the Hamilton fandom so feedback is appreciated! I am my own editor, so there may be some mistakes in it. Enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and rape, although it doesn't get graphic

In Maria Lewis’s third POV

Maria Lewis is red. She wears is daily, prancing around in red cardigans, red dresses, red skirts, red pant, and red heels. Her makeup collection also consists of things shades of red; which shades, I guess we’ll never know.

However, the most noticeable red is her lips. Full, luscious, and the first thing everyone sets their eyes on. They’re stared at a lot, especially by the perverted boys in class or the streets. It unnerves her, so she sends glares that could kill to anyone that sends a suggestive gesture or two her way.

Maria still shivers with fear at the thought of James Reynolds, who did much more than making suggestive glances at her. James Reynolds is her nasty-ass, former boyfriend.

And it’s not surprising that to match her color theme, Maria has highlighted her think. curly hair red. It stands out, even in the midst of dark brown curls. However, this is not the reason Maria Lewis is red as of right now.

“ Eliza, what the hell are you doing,” Maria stated more than questioned. Eliza had leaped off the bed and started peeling off her clothes in their shared dorm.

Even after half a year of being together, Maria was still a flustered mess whenever her girlfriend decided to even just take off her shirt, with a bra still on. Why is she so damn beautiful, Maria thought as she gazed at her, aware of the flush spreading around her face and body.

“ Surely you remember it’s been exactly six months since we broke you up with that bitch of a boyfriend,” Eliza answered plainly, tilting her head at her girlfriends whilst showing off more of her chest. About half a year ago, Eliza found out that her crush ( Maria, obviously ) was being subject to abuse by her “ boyfriend”. Maria had come to class everyday with bangs in front of either eye, reclusive and timid, flinched at the slightest human contact, and limped every now and then.

Eliza had finished sixth period when she glimpsed in horror at a sight at the end of the hallway, a Maria cowering under the body of James Reynolds, who fondled parts of her body and occasionally slapping them too, including her face. Even from a distance, Eliza could see the bruises forming on Maria.

Reynolds noticed someone’s presence, and the two fled to the closest exit. Eliza’s attempt to chase them failed. Instead, she later came over to Maria’s house. After soothing and cuddling her for an hour, they eventually came up with a not-so-brilliant plan to separate the two. Long story short, James Reynolds ended up with a broken nose and 7 and a half years in prison.

Since then, Eliza and Maria have been lovers due to the fact that they have been smitten with one another since they became study friends.

( aaand back to the present )

“ Well, I would think so,” replied Maria, mildly surprised that Eliza was cursing. She was normally an adorable cinnamon roll. “ But that doesn't explain why you’re stripping in front of my face.”

“ Dearie, I am taking you on a date. And please don't decline. I’ve been planning this all week. Now go get dresses.”

“ You know I love you too much to say no to anything.”

“ Mhmm. I’ll keep that in mind for tonight.”

Maria stuttered for a response, but thought words were useless anyway. Despite Eliza’s bright and childlike behavior, she was definitely one to dirty talk. Only with Maria of course. Imagine her friends, and heaven forbid, her sisters finding out.

Maria hopped off the bed and started sifting through her clothes for anything decent. She hoped it wouldn’t be a super fancy place. Maria grabbed maroon pants and a white shirt with black and gray flowers on it, along with her swim team jacket.

For her, being on Columbia University’s swim team was one of the few ways she felt free while she was still dating James. the feeling of weightlessness and rush of cool water around her body was relieving. The swift bold strokes of her arms propelling her ahead of other teammates and competitors is exhilarating. Really though, she just enjoys being in water.

Eliza wore her signature teal sundress ( seriously, is that her whole wardrobe or something? ) and tied a green ribbon in her dark, straight hair. She had a little eyeliner and lipstick on.

The blue-clad girl watched Maria, following her to the sink to apply makeup. She suddenly wrapped her arms around Maria’s waist, making her squeak and drop the foundation brush.

“ Maria?” Eliza murmured into her love’s hair.

“ Yes babe?”

“ I love you, ‘kay? You don't need to put everything on. You look just as handsome and lovely without it. It’s just a simple date. Besides, it gives yah cancer.”

Maria leaned into Eliza’s touch, sighing as she contemplated her sweet girlfriend’s words.

“ I guess I can just put on lipstick then.”

Eliza responded by twisting Maria around and pecking kisses all over her face. The latter accidentally let out a quiet moan and Eliza giggled at her reaction, then turned away. She left the bathroom and into the bedroom.

“ Well I'm gonna go get our stuff ready, ya know,” Eliza stated somewhere in the bedroom. Remembering why they were on a date today, Maria tried to not recall the memories of James. Those times were in the past, times that consisted of a constant pining and longing for Eliza. Times that wanted Eliza, to touch her, to feel her presence when only the looming treat of her abusive, homophobic boyfriend was there.

Focus on the date. No times for thoughts of that son-of-a-bitch.

“ You ready Maria?”

“ Y-yeah, I’m coming! Just a moment!”

“ Alrighty.”

Eliza linked her arm with Maria as they walked out of their shared dorm and the building. Maria absolutely relished being in contact with the other girl and Eliza knew it.

The autumn weather felt very cool in New York, students and adults alike enjoying it before they had to huddle under layers of blankets and hot cocoa with friends and lovers.

“ So Eliza, what’s this great plan you have for us today?”

“ Hmm, well, uh, we’re gonna go lunch first? Or brunch? Food?” sounding more like a question than an answer. Maria barked a laugh, which raised the attention of the people walking/jogging by.

“ You dork, I meant where are we gonna eat?” Maria questioned once more while bopping Eliza’s nose.

“ Well? Where do you want to go?”

Dead silence.

“...you don't have a plan,do you?” Eliza didn't respond, opting to remain quiet.

“ Well, well, well. The tables have turned. Looks like I’ll be the one in charge. Lucky I’ve already got a place in mind. You know who Madison and Jefferson are, right?”

“ Um, yeah. They’re in my math and history class.”

“ Well, they went to this a couple times. They really loved it and kept chattering about it to me. Apparently, it’s got this wicked chicken and dessert selections. We could go there, if that’s what you want to do.”

Maria’s girlfriend whispered into her ear,” Course I do, it’s prolly some romantic place,” and gave her a few kisses on the cheek. It made Maria smile.

“ I’m pretty sure the place is called ' Element Café ‘ and it’s just right down the street.”

“ Sounds nice. Let’s go!” Eliza exclaimed while dragging Maria down the sidewalk. The couple practically ran down the pavement, earning amused looks from passerbys. It was a breezy autumn day, full of hope for a better life in New York City.

Maria is red, red from the laughter elicted by Eliza, and hope for just a wonderful anniversary with the wonderful angel called Eliza.

( end )

Leave a note and comment if you liked it! If I get more than 20 notes, maybe I’ll try to write part two! ;)

( btw if you want to find my stuff, just search up my art, even if it isn't visual art )

#marliza #my work #eliza x maria #maria x eliza #hamilton #eliza schuyler #maria lewis #maria reynolds #marliza fanfic #my art

28 notes · View notes

mbtizone · 7 years ago

Text

Jafar (Aladdin): INTJ

Dominant Introverted Intuition [Ni]: It’s Jafar’s greatest ambition to usurp the Sultan, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make that dream a reality. He wants Agrabah to bow to him and is extraordinarily patient in his quest. Everything Jafar does is a carefully thought out piece of his overall plan of ruling the kingdom. He spends years searching for the Cave of Wonders. When he finally finds it, he sends a man in to retrieve the lamp, which is all part of his long-term vision of using the Genie to make himself all-powerful. However, when he realizes he can’t just send anyone into the cave, he remains patient until he can identify the “diamond in the rough.” He’s certain that he will get what he wants eventually and doesn’t get worked up when he faces obstacles (unlike Iago). Jafar is able to manipulate the Sultan (even when he’s not using his cobra staff to hypnotize him) and typically knows exactly what to do and say to get what he wants from him. Jafar instinctively doesn’t trust “Prince Ali” and is very skeptical about him and proves himself correct when he catches a glimpse of the lamp, allowing him to deduce that he’s actually Aladdin.

Auxiliary Extroverted Thinking [Te]: Jafar is all about seizing power and being in control. No matter how much he has, it’s never enough for him. Jafar doesn’t hesitate to take action and will do whatever he has to in order to overtake the kingdom. He doesn’t care who he has to hurt to get the lamp and gladly sacrifices whoever he has to in his quest for power. Jafar can sometimes struggle to see beyond the facts of the situation. Jasmine will have to marry a prince, and once that happens, she’ll get rid of him. It doesn’t occur to him to change the rules so that Jasmine must marry him, allowing Jafar to become sultan – that idea comes from Iago. Jafar is strategic about accomplishing his goals. Once he discovers that Aladdin is his diamond in the rough, he has him arrested in order to use him to get the lamp.

Tertiary Introverted Feeling [Fi]: The only feelings of any value to Jafar are his own. He holds everyone around him in contempt and believes himself to be superior. Jafar doesn’t discuss his personal feelings and appears to completely lack empathy. Jafar only bothers with those who can help him achieve his goals. He knows what he values (power, authority, control), and he won’t allow anything to distract him from his mission to take over the kingdom. Once he gets everything he’s ever wanted, he uses his power to control the people around him to show them who’s boss now.

Inferior Extroverted Sensing [Se]: Once Jafar finally gets a taste of the absolute power he’s always craved, he begins to act recklessly in the moment. He wants to enjoy all of the pleasures that come along with the status he worked so hard for. Although his original plan was to kill Jasmine, he changes his mind and even gives into his lustful urges by attempting to use his last wish to get her to fall in love with him. When he gives in to it, he forgets to think ahead, allowing himself to be tricked into becoming a prisoner of the lamp. His desire for authority leads him to act on impulse, which leaves him susceptible to manipulation. Both Jasmine and Aladdin are able to pick up on this and use it to their advantage to defeat him.

Note: I’m sure that some people will think I’m stereotyping. I know of some people who argue that Jafar can’t be an INTJ because of how impulsive he became once he got the lamp. I think that was just a grip experience, though. Jafar spent a very long time singularly focused on just one goal and didn’t stop until he made it a reality. Then, when the moment came and he finally got everything he ever wanted, he reveled in it, which led to his downfall. Giving in to the urges of the moment at the very end doesn’t discount everything leading up to it. Someone with higher Se would probably have a much better handle on it than Jafar does. My aunt was the only INTJ I’ve ever known in my life, and when she was in the grip of Se, it was not a pretty picture.

Enneagram: 8w7 3w4 5w4 So/Sx

Note: (He shows a lot of 3 and 8, so deciding his main type was difficult and I’m not 100% confident about which actually takes precedence)

Quotes:

Jafar: At last, after all my years of searching, the cave of wonders! Iago: Awk! Cave of wonders! Gazeem: By Allah! Jafar: Now, remember! Bring me the lamp. The rest of the treasure is yours, but the lamp is mine!

Iago: I can’t believe it. I just don’t believe it. We’re never gonna get a hold of that stupid lamp! Just forget it. Look at this. Look at this. I’m so ticked off that I’m molting! Jafar: Patience, Iago. Patience. Gazeem was obviously less than worthy. Iago: Oh, there’s a big surprise. That’s an incred–I think I’m gonna have a heart attack and die from not surprise! What’re we gonna do? We got a big problem here,a big prob- [Jafar pinches his beak shut.] Jafar: Yes, we do. Only one may enter. I must find this one, this… diamond in the rough.

Iago: I can’t take it anymore! If I gotta choke down on one more of those moldy, disgusting crackers… bam! Whack! Jafar: Calm yourself, Iago. Iago: Then I’d grab him around the head. Whack! Whack! Jafar: Soon, I will be sultan, not that addlepated twit. Iago: And then I stuff the crackers down his throat!

Iago: With all due respect, your rottenness, couldn’t we just wait for a real storm? Jafar: Save your breath, Iago. Faster! [He places the Sultan’s ring in the contraption.] Iago: Yes, o mighty evil one. [Iago runs faster. A lightning bolt streaks through the ring, passing into an hourglass below. The sands begin to swirl.] Jafar: Ah, sands of time– reveal to me the one who can enter the cave. [The sand in top forms the Cave of Wonders. It falls through into a storm, but it shows Aladdin climbing up a ladder, followed by Jasmine, who is covered in her cloak.] Yes, yes! There he is. My diamond in the rough! Iago: That’s him?!?! That’s the clown we’ve been waitin’ for? Jafar: Let’s have the guards extend him an invitation to the palace, shall we?

Sultan: Jafar, this is an outrage. If it weren’t for all your years of loyal service… From now on, you are to discuss sentencing of prisoners with me, before they are beheaded. Jafar: I assure you, your highness, it won’t happen again. Sultan: Jasmine, Jafar, now let’s put this whole messy business behind us. Please? Jafar: My most abject and humblest apologies to you as well, princess. Jasmine: At least some good will come of my being forced to marry. When I am queen, I will have the power to get rid of you. Sultan: That’s nice. All settled, then. Now, Jasmine, getting back to this suitor business. Jasmine? Jasmine! Jafar: If only I had gotten that lamp! Iago: I will have the power to get rid of you! D’oh! To think–we gotta keep kissing up to that chump, and his chump daughter for the rest of our lives… Jafar: No, Iago. Only until she finds a chump husband. Then she’ll have us banished–or beheaded! BOTH: Eeewww! Iago: Oh! Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Jafar? What if you were the chump husband? Jafar: What? Iago: Okay, you marry the princess, all right? Then, uh, you become sultan! Jafar: Oh! Marry the shrew? I become sultan. The idea has merit! Iago: Yes, merit! Yes! And then we drop papa-in-law and the little woman off a cliff! Kersplat! Jafar: Iago, I love the way your foul little mind works!

Jafar: Sire, I have found a solution to the problem with your daughter. Iago: Awk! The problem with your daughter! Sultan: Oh, really? Jafar: Right here. “If the princess has not chosen a husband by the appointed time, then the sultan shall choose for her.” Sultan: But Jasmine hated all those suitors! How could I choose someone she hates? Jafar: Not to worry, my liege. There is more. If, in the event a suitable prince cannot be found, a princess must then be wed to… hmm… interesting. Sultan: What? Who? Jafar: The royal vizier! Why, that would be… me! Sultan: Why, I thought the law says that only a prince can marry a princess, I’m quite sure. Jafar: Desperate times call for desperate measures, my lord. Sultan: Yes… desperate measures… Jafar: You will order the princess to marry me. Sultan: I… will order… the princess… to… but you’re so old! Jafar:The princess will marry me! Sultan: The princess will marry… What? What is that? That music! Ha ha ha. Jafar, you must come and see this!

Iago: We gotta get outta here! We gotta get– I gotta start packing, your highness. Only essentials. Travel light! Bring the guns, the weapons, the knives and how about this picture? I don’t know– I think I’m making a weird face in it. [Jafar starts to laugh wildly.] Oh, boy–he’s gone nuts. He’s cracked. [Iago flies down to him and knocks on his head.] Jafar? Jafar? Get a grip, Jafar! [Jafar grabs him around the neck] Good grip! Jafar: Prince Ali is nothing more than that ragged urchin Aladdin. He has the lamp, Iago. Iago: Why that miserable– Jafar: But you are going to relieve him of it! Iago: Me?

Genie: You know Al, I’m getting really–I don’t think you’re him. Tonight, the role of Al will be played by a tall, dark and sinister ugly man. Jafar: I am your master now. Genie: I was afraid of that. Jafar: Genie, grant me my first wish. I wish to rule on high, as sultan!

Aladdin: Genie! No! Genie: Sorry, kid–I got a new master now. Sultan: Jafar, I order you to stop! Jafar: There’s a new order now–my order! Finally, you will bow to me!

Jasmine: We’ll never bow to you! Iago: Why am I not surprised? Jafar: If you will not bow before a sultan, then you will cower before a sorcerer! Genie, my second wish–I wish to be the most powerful sorcerer in the world!

Iago: Ladies and gentlemen, a warm Agrabah welcome for Sorcerer Jafar! Jafar: Now where were we? Ah, yes–abject humiliation! [He zaps Jasmine and the Sultan with his staff, and they both bow to him. Rajah comes running at him. He zaps Rajah, and the tiger turns into a kitty-cat.] Down, boy! Oh, princess–[lifts her chin with his staff] –there’s someone I’m dying to introduce you to.

Jafar: It pains me to see you reduced to this, Jasmine. [He takes a bite out of the apple she is holding.] A beautiful desert bloom such as yourself should be on the arm of the most powerful man in the world. [He waves his finger and a crown appears.] What do you say, my dear? Why, with you as my queen… Jasmine: Never! Jafar: I’ll teach you some respect! [She falls back as he raises his hand to slap her. Then he stops.] No. Genie, I have decided to make my final wish. I wish for Princess Jasmine to fall desperately in love with me. Genie: Ah, master– there are a few addendas, some quid pro quo- Jafar: Don’t talk back to me, you stupid blue lout! You will do what I order you to do, slave!

Jafar: You little fool! You thought you could defeat the most powerful being on earth! Iago: Squeeze him, Jafar–Squeeze him like a–awk! [Genie elbows him out of the way] Jafar: Without the genie, boy, you’re nothing! Aladdin: The genie! The genie! The genie has more power than you’ll ever have! Jafar: What!! Aladdin: He gave you your power, he can take it away! Genie: Al, what are you doing? Why are you bringing me into this? Aladdin: Face it, Jafar- you’re still just second best! Jafar: You’re right! His power does exceed my own! But not for long! [Jafar circles around the Genie.] Genie: The boy is crazy. He’s a little punch drunk. One too many hits with the snake Jafar: Slave, I make my third wish! I wish to be an all powerful genie! Genie: All right, your wish is my command. Way to go, Al.

Jafar: The universe is mine to command, to control! Aladdin:Not so fast, Jafar! Aren’t you forgetting something? You wanted to be a genie, you got it! And everything that goes with it!

Jafar (Aladdin): INTJ was originally published on MBTI Zone

#Aladdin #Disney #Jafar

9 notes · View notes

drdedd0c · 7 years ago

Text

Bendy In Bring Back A Little Devil

Based Around Gamerboy123456’s Comics

Written By Ranen Kim (ItsYeFriend17)

(Also If You Hate The Way I Type, Go Fak Yourself Anyway To The Story, Enjoy!)

The Heavenly Council Has Been Hard At Work Giving Assignments To Angels Who Are In Training And Some That Are Experienced, Among All The Angels Is A Lovely Woman By The Name Of Alice Was Cheerful On Her Next Assignment Ready To Make The Place More Happier Until She Overheard A Few Angels Speaking About Bendy, The Dancing Demon She Heard Them Say Something About Him “Yeah I Heard That Demon Is The Most Wanted Devil In This Universe” One Said “Hmm Bendy Devil? Let’s See About That” She Said Mentally And As She Did Her Assignment Was Given As It Was A Town Protection, One She Gotten Many Time “Mr Gavreel?” Alice Asks And He Answered “Yes Miss Alice?” “Why Have There Been No Assignments To Capture Bendy Devil?” She Asked And The Whole Council Went Silent But One Stood Up And Exclaimed “We Do NOT Open Anymore Discussions About That Devil Anymore, We Will Not EVER Open This Discussion Ever Again! I Should Strip Your Rank Immedi-” He Was Stopped From The Rant “Please Michael, She Is A Rookie After All Let Me Explain” Gavreel Said “Fine But Quickly, I’m Tired Of Hearing That Name” Soon Lead Council Member Gavreel Flew Down To Alice Angel “Miss Angel, The Reason Why We Haven’t Been Giving Discussion Or Any Assignments On Him Is Because For One Bendy Devil Is The Most Cunning, Tricky, Troublesome, Slippery, And Most Of All Perverted As He Has Stolen Multiple Angel Panties Which Is Weird For A Devil, And Even The Fact That Our Best Angels Couldn’t Even Catch Him And 2 Because Ever Since The Disappearance Of Angel Afriel The Angel Of Youth And Michael’s Girlfriend, He’s Closed Discussions On Bendy Devil Ever Since She Was Sent To Capture Him” Alice Saw Michael Whispering To Himself And then Saw Him Tearing “Ever Since Afriel Disappeared Michael Has Been Hit Hardly And Became Depressed, He’d Do Anything To Get Her Back, Poor Guy” “I- I’ll Capture Him At Once Sir!” She Said Determined “What? Y- You’re Kidding Right? You’re Making A Joke?” “No Sir! I’m Being Truthful From The Bottom Of My Heart, I Will Capture Him For You And I’ll Be A True Angel” “Ok Miss Alice That’s Enough” “Angels Never Give Up Right, And So Won’t I, I Never Give Up” “Oh Dear You’re Not Joking, Well If You Are To Capture Bendy Devil You’ll Have To Prepare Her As Most Angels Have Theorised That It Will Take Days To Capture This Demon That Is If You’re Doing It Alone” “Well Of Course I Am Plus I’m Not Asking For A Council Rank Or Even Fame I Just Want To Capture THe Most Daring And Escaping Devil” “Well If You Manage This Miss Alice You Can Actually Be Awarded Your Angel Wings” Alice Gasped In Surprise Y- “You Mean It?” “We Offer A Large Award To People Who Can Capture Him, And Find Afriel” “So What Happens If I Retrieve Both? Not Trying To Be Greedy But Would That Reward Me With Bigger Wings?” And Gavreel Put A Hand On Her Shoulder “Come Now, Sweet Alice Don’t Get Too Deep Into That Thought, We’d Just Award You With Wings And Even A Higher Paycheck” “Well I’ll Get Prepared! Once You Give Me The Assignment..” “Well I Can’t Stop You From Dreaming I Guess But I’ll Give You The Assignment, But I Must Warn You Alice Angel But First Kneel Before Me” “Yes Sir” Alice Knelt Before Gavreel “If You Are To Fail This Quest By Not Returning We Will Assume Your Death And/Or Capture We Will Wait For That But If You Return Giving Up We The Council Will Never Award You Your Wings, Understand?” “Yes Sir, I Understand” “Good, Now Get Prepared” “Yes” Alice Soon Ran Home Determined For Her Assignment She Rushed Through The Door To Grab Some Supplies And Her Father “You Seem Happy Alice, What’s The Rush?” “The Heavenly Council Gave Me The Task To Capture Bendy Devil” “Wait, Your Serious? I Thought They Closed Tasks On Capturing Him” “they Just Reopened It Just For Me” “Alice? Are You Sure You Want To Capture Bendy? I Mean It’s Not Too Late To Back Out” “Like I Said Dad I Already Am Certain, I Want To Capture Bendy Devil, And Earn My Angel Wings” “Oh Dear You’re, Not Kidding Well My Sweet Angel Please Be Safe, Remember Bendy Is The Mo-” “Cunning, Slippery, Troublesome, Tricky, And Perverted Demon In Our Universe” “Wow You Really Are, Well I Can’t Stop You I Guess I Should Send You Off” “You Mean It Dad?” “You Want Your Wings, Do You Not?” And Once He Said That He Got Kissed On The Cheek And Alice Was Gone, Alice Came To The Council To See If They Know Where Bendy Is, Charmeine The Angel Of Harmony Said That Many Spies Have Spotted Bendy By a Tree Near A Town Napping Once She Was Told The Intel Alice Was Sent Down By Another Angel, And Alice Made Her Way To The Location, As Soon As She Got There She Snuck Towards The Tree And Climbed Cautiously Making Sure Not To Wake Him She Was Ready To Rope Him Up And Take Him Away But Saw A Glimpse Of His Face Soon Realizing Why He Was Hard To Catch, He Was Handsome, Attractive, He Was A Girls Dream Guy, However During The Hesitation Bendy Saw Alice And Both Of Them Screamed Alice Landed Backwards Onto A Branch And Fell When She Got Up Bendy Said “Took Quite A Fall There, Looking For Me Toots?” Alice Pointed A Finger At Bendy And Shouted “Bendy Devil! On The Mark Of Heaven I’m Here To Bring You To The Heavenly Council For Your Crimes And To Earn My Angel Wings!” After That Speech Bendy Started Laughing And Said “That’s A Good One, They Think So Little Of Me Sending A No Wings To Catch The Sexiest Cartoon Devil?” Alice’s Face Went Red With Rage And Soon Shouted “No Wings?! I Tried Being Nice But No One Calls Me A No Wings! Like It Or Not You’re Coming With Me!” “Ooooooooh Looks Like A Hit A Nerve There, No Wings” Alice Was Thinking To Herself Before A Trap On The Ground And Fell Into A Hole That Broke With A Snap, Bendy Laughed “Nice One Toots, Don’t Worry You Could Just Fly Out, Oh Wait!” Bendy Mocked “Ta-Ta No Wings!” Bendy Said As He Walked Down The Field, “You Bastard! I’ll Get You! An Angel Never Gives Up! As Soon As I Get Out Of This Hole” Alice Figured It Out And Found Many Rocks Arranged To Make A Climbing Wall Of Some Sort And Alice Climbs It, Once She Makes It, She Runs To Bendy “Oh No You Don’t!” “Oh Yes I Do!” Bendy Starts Running, Alice Pursued Him, “Stop At Once!” “You Can’t Use Weapons No Wings What Do You Got, Hmm Maybe Minus Wings” Bendy Laughed As He Sped Up And Alice Slowed Down, Alice Got An Idea “, She Took The Halo From Her Head Which. Made A Copot And Threw It At Bendy Like A Frisbee Hitting Him And Coming Back Onto Her Head Bendy Fell Face First And In The Head, Alice Quickly Went Up To And Tied Him Up, One Bit Of Rope Was Made To Be A Pulling Technique, As Alice Dragged Bendy To Heaven Bendy Said “Dang No Wings, Never Knew Angels Could Be So Kinky… Rope Isn’t My Choice For A First Date But I Don’t Mind” Which Alice Said “Please Be Quiet” Alice Demanded “Yes Ma’am” “Enjoy Yourself For Now Soon, We’ll Be At The Heavenly Council, To Get My Wings And See That Look Of Defeat On Your Stupid Cute Face, Furthermore-” “Yuck, Heaven Prison Isn’t On My List Of Fun Places To End Up” “Well That’s Tough” As Alice Said That Bendy’s Head Flew Off As He Doesn’t Have A Freakin Neck “To Think I’ll Be The First Person To Catch Bendy Devil, Maybe They Will Give Me Super Large Wings, Just For Your Capture” Alice Turns Her Head “Then We’ll See Who Will Be A No Wings Now, Right Bendy, WHAT THE HOLY VIRGIN MARY” She Sees Bendy’s Head Bounce Away Like A Ball “So Long No Wings!” Bendy Shouts To Her As His Heads Bounces Away, “Seriously?!!? His Head Comes Off, Why Has Noone Told Me About That?!!?” She Begins Talking To The His Body “How Far Does He Think He Can Go? He’s Just A Head Can You Believe This?” The Body Shrugs “Don’t Worry! You Have My Best Part Still, Consider It A Gift” As He Said That A Bird Swooped Him Up And He Begins Panicking “Hey! No Stupid Bird! I’m Not Into Feathers, Put Me Down, No Wings Help Me! I’m Your Prisoner That Means I’m Your Responsibility, You Gotta Take Care Of Me Hurry Up! Wow He Left The Ground Quick, I Hate Heights! No Wings!!!!!!” Alice Just Watched And Said To Herself “Oh Goddamnit” She Straps Bendy’s Body To Her Back And Starts Running After The Bird, The Bird Makes Its Way To A Mountain And Alice Stops In a Town Where She Flags Down A Taxi, The Taxi Stops And Offers Her Inside Bit As She Steps Forward She Is Pushed By A Lady, Alice Gets Furious And Says To The Taxi “Don’t Go For A Second Please” She Leans Into The Window And Says “Is There A Problem Ma’am?” She Asks Agitated “Oh I Didn’t Know You Were In Such A Rush, Just Grow Some Wings” Alice Stares At Her And Presents Her Council Badge “By The Name Of The Heavenly Council I Demand A Reason!” The Lady Exits The Vehicle And Just Walks Away, Alice Enters The Vehicle And The Driver Says “Where To Miss?” “The Mountain 15 Miles Ahead” “Yes Ma’am” The Taxi Gets Driven To The Mountain, Once She Gets There The Taxi Says “Hey Careful I Heard Delinquents Stay At This Mountain” “How Do You Know?” The Driver Showed His Scared Face “Best You Not Know” Alice Exits The Vehicle And Hikes Up The Mountain To Where The Bird Is Staying And As Alice Does, She Hears Voices Of Kids Seemingly Rich Delinquents “Who’d Think My Bird Get Us A Ball To Play With?” “Maybe Since You Always Handle Them” “Fellas, Fellas? Can’t We Just Reason?” Bendy Said And Alice Peaked There Were 3 Of Them And Bendys Head Was At Their Feet, She Even Saw aim a Corner An Angel Gagged And Written All Over With Sharpie She Was Wet, Cold, Sad, And Dirty, She Realized Who She Was Afriel The Angel Of Youth The Abel Who Went Missing Just A Few Months Back Alice Stepped In While Presenting Her Council Badge “In The Name Of Heaven I Demand That Head And Angel Be Given To Me At Once!” The Delinquents Just Popped Knives Open And Approached Her They Got Ready To Give Her A Scar But Alice Just Took Her Halo Off And Threw It At Them Like A Frisbee Making All Three Delinquents Down, Alice Went To The Angel First Ungagged Her And Helped Her Up “Thank You” She Croaked “No Need Afriel, Just Head Back To Heaven And Notify Micheal” Alice Said “W- Well I Could, B- But The Corrupt Youth Broke My Wings” “Oh You Poor Thing” Alice Picks Up Bendys Head “Wow You Actually Caught Him, Heh Let’s Go” Alice Turns And Sees A Delinquent In The Same Type Of Clothes But Taller And Stronger But Had A Sword Seemingly 17th Century British Sword “By The Name Of Heaven I Demand You Drop Your Weapon!” The Delinquent Just Readied His Weapon And Alice Threw Her Halo Like A Frisbee But The Delinquent Must’ve Known What She Was Doing As he Dodged It And It Spun Back Onto Her Head, “Stop At Once Please” Afriel Said But The Delinquent Smiled, Swinging His Sword But Alice Dodged It By Rolling Afriel Took The Chance To Dash Past Him And Meet With Alice “No Wings! I’d Really Like To Go Now!” Bendy Said “Shut Up!” Both Afriel And Alice RUn Down The Hill Trying To Get Away From The Delinquent And They Did Once They Lost Him Alice Asks Afriel “Can You Call Dispatch Angels?” “The Corrupt Youth Back At The Mountain Thought It Be Funny To Break My Halo, How Do You Think I Couldn’t Call In The First Place?” Alice Noticed That Her Halo Was Missing So She Prayed For Dispatch Angels And As She Did They Came And Retrieved Afriel “Before You Go Make Sure She Gets The Proper Care She Needs then Come Back For Me” Alice Said Before They left “Don’t Worry We’ll Be Back” The Angels Flew Away To Heaven Hospital And Alice Took Bendy To Some Fields To Wait For The Angels To Come Again “So.. You’re Bringing Me To The Heavenly Council Huh? Guess That Is The End Of Your Adventure, I Get Sent To Heaven Prison, You Get Your Wings, Get Congratulated By Everyone And Become A Hero? Maybe You’ll Be A True Hero Huh?” Bendy Looks At The Ground Sad “End Of My Spree Huh?” Alice Kept Waiting Just Staring Into The Fields “Oh Well Atleast We Both Had Fun Together, Right No Wings?” “Yeah I Guess, I’ll Be Happy Now That I Have The Prize To My Wings, Then We’ll Get To See Who’s The No Wings Now Right” Both Chuckle “Hey Alice?” “Yeah?” “Do You Like Someone?” “Do You?” “Nah” “Same” Both Have A Silent Moment For Five Seconds “So, No Wings” “Alice” “Alice, Do You Think We Could Be Friends?” “Friends? Well I Mean That’s Against The Bible Isn’t It? And My Dad Wont Approve” “Who Is Your Dad?” “Believe it Or Not, He’s God” “You’re Kidding? Y- You Have God As Your Dad?” “Yep He Is, He Surely Would Never Allow Me to Have Wings If I Had A Devil Friend” Bendy’s Body Scoots Closer And Puts A Hand On Alice’s “Bendy Your Body Is” “I Know I Feel It” Alice Holds Bendy’s Head Up And Both Bendy And Alice Look Into Eachothers Eyes “Uh Alice?” “Yes?” “Do You Like Me?” “Bendy I Must Confess, Yes I Do, When I First Saw You I Knew Why Everyone Sent To Capture You Weren’t Able To Your Handsome, Cunning, Slippery, And All That” Alice Pulls Bendy’s Head Closer And Bendy Blushes “Uh Alice You Ok?” Alice Just Puckered Her Lips Ready To Kiss Bendy On The Cheek “No Wings! What Are You-” Alice Gives Bendy A Smooch On The Cheek “No Wings?” Alice Kept Smooching Around His Head Leaving Lip Marks “Alice! What The Hell Are You Doing?” “Don’t Worry About It” Soon The Dispatch Angels Come Back Down “Ms Angel We’re Back” “Actually Call It Off, Bendy Regrets Everything” “I- I Don’t Think Your Father Will Like That” “Whatever Let Him Forbid Me From Having Them, I Don’t Care Now” “You’ll Also Be Forbidden Into Heaven, Lose Your Job, Ne-” “Go At Once, I’ve Made My Decision “Let’s Just Go She’s Made Up Her Mind” Both Angels Fly Back Up To Tell The Council The News “Mind Untying Me Now?” Alice Unties Bendy And Puts His Head Back On Kissing Him Again “Ok Alice, That’s Enough” Alice Gets Hold Of Bendy’s Hands “Bendy? Would You Be In A Relationship With Me?” “Well-” “Its Ok I Don’t Care, I’ve Given Up My Dream For Wings Today Now I Just Wanna Be With You Bendy” Both Of Them Lean Towards Each Other And Kiss On the Lips

That’s All Folks! Thank You For Taking The Time To Read This Story, And Thank You Gamerboy123456 From Deviantart For Inspiring Me To Make This Story!

#BATIM #bendy x Alice

4 notes · View notes

diyunho · 8 years ago

Text

The Joker x Reader x Harvey Dent - “One Of Us”

It’s common knowledge that Harvey Dent and The Joker don’t get along. After the horrible thing that happened to you, it really took a lot out of them to join forces and help.

Warning: brief mention of assault and its aftermath.

"What happened to you while we were in there?"

Your fingers stop on the laptop's keyboard.

"You don't get to ask me that, J " you reply, frowning. He won't give up:

"What happened to you while we were in there, hmm?"

"I said you don't get to ask that!!!" you get up from your chair so fast you knock it down.

"Are the rumors true?" He's so persistent it makes you restless.

"You can't ask that..."you gulp, taking a step back from the desk.

"ARE.THE.RUMORS.TRUE? " The Joker snarls, tapping the marble floor with his purple cane after each emphasized word, not breaking eye contact with you. "We would really like to know!"

You feel on the verge of crying, fighting hard to keep the tears back:

"Who's...we?" you sniffle, trying to pull yourself together.

"Me and Harvey. For once we agree on something."

**********************

You are looking through the restaurant's menu even if you already know what you want.

"Hi, Princess," you hear the familiar voice and you lift your eyes up to meet The Joker's blue gaze.

"Hello," you smile, surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"I have a business meeting," he grins. "Why are you here?"

"I'm waiting for Harvey, he wanted to have dinner with me," you happily answer and it instantly pisses him off. "Here, take a sit; he's not here yet," you offer, moving over to make space.

That cunning, sneaky bastard, J thinks, already not in a good mood, but accepts your invitation nevertheless.

"I told you to stop working for Dent, just work for me," he starts his rant and it kind of amuses you to hear him talk like that again. "He's so annoying, I can't stand him! Quit working for him, I can pay you double."

"You already are, Mister J," you remind him. "I am a freelance hacker, I work for both...and others, you know that." You involuntarily touch your colorful butterfly necklace tattooed around your neck; you always do that when you're distracted.

"Stop calling me Mister, it makes me feel old. I don't want you going on dates with Dent, do you hear me?" he points his finger at you, scooting over even more so that your thighs are touching. "He's what, 7 years older than you? He's gonna die first, I'm 4 years younger than him so I will be around for a longer time."

"W-what?" you ask, already laughing. The stuff that comes out of his mouth." You're so childish sometimes!"

"No, I'm not!" he grunts, "I'm just stating the facts, Doll. Why don't you ever want to go on a date with me?"

You sigh and completely turn around to face him, tilting your head so you can savor his reaction better:

"Because you never asked," you bluntly proclaim, fully aware it's the truth. The best part is that The Joker thinks he did ask you out. He's so complex and complicated. He believes you're wrong and opens his mouth to start talking when:

"Butterfly!" Harvey addresses you and you are fast to get up and meet him.

J will forever be irritated he wasn't the first to come up with that pretty nickname for you when it's so damn obvious.

Dent kisses your hand and you giggle, glad to see him:

"Oh, Harvey, always such a gentleman," you gush and you can't help but hear a low growl coming from The Joker and since you like to play around, you just reach and kiss Dent on his scarred cheek.

"And now our date is perfect, Butterfly" he brags, kissing your hand again with that flirtatious smirk J would love to wipe out with some more acid. "Oh, hello Mister Joker," Harvey finally pretends to notice the third wheel at the table.

"Dent, " the very short acknowledgment comes.

"What a nice surprise. Are you going to join me and my date for dinner?"

"Boys, be nice please," you admonish both, feeling sorry you pushed it a bit on purpose.

J cracks his shoulders and gets up.

"I have a meeting to attend. Princess... Harvey," he barks the latest name instead of goodbye, slowly walking away with murder on his mind.

***You didn't really have time to enjoy your dinner because the SWAT team raided the place one hour later on a tip from an anonymous source. You, Harvey, the Joker and many others got caught. Such a shame this happened: the restaurant was the underworld's elite favorite place. ***

They didn't even bother to send you to Arkham, you all ended up at Belle Reve. They hope you will never get out of there; it will sure be very hard to find you, the place is off the grid. Well, it certainly makes Arkham seem like a walk in the park. So many guards; they kind of have rules and kind of don't, one never knows what to expect and definitely not boring.

The Joker and Harvey got cells with glass walls across from each other. Of course it was done on purpose to antagonize them since their famous rivalry is now seen as a weakness to be exploited. You are not close to them, about 25 cells up the corridor and only get a glimpse of your two main employers when you pass by on your way to the so called therapy or interrogation.

A couple of months passed by and that night came. The security guards woke you up in the middle of the night and dragged you out of your cell. You had such a bad feeling about it you wouldn't stop struggling, not even when they kept on hitting you. Two Face was awake when you walked by and after you desperately fought your way out from your captors for a few seconds, you ran to his cell. You placed your palms against the glass and he put his on top of yours on the other side.

"Harvey! Harvey!!!" you screamed before they covered your mouth and yanked you away.

"Hey, what are you doing? Where are you taking her?" he repeatedly punched the glass, waiting for the answer that never came.

You were so feisty they really had to use brute force to calm you down. They slammed you against the Joker's glass wall so hard you almost passed out. He was dozing off and got startled when he heard the loud bang.

"What the hell?! Can't even sleep around here," he muttered rubbing his eyes and lifted his head from the mattress. "Hey, Y/N!" he jumped up when he noticed what the commotion is all about. "What are you guys doing?"

None of the wardens bothered to say anything as they hauled you away and the two of them stayed up for hours waiting to see when they will bring you back. It finally happened but it didn't make them less worried: one of the guards was carrying you back on his shoulder as you lay there, unconscious, your long hair almost reaching the back of his knees.

After that night, Harvey and the Joker didn't really see you pass by that often but when it happened, you didn't look at them anymore. You always stared at the floor with a blank expression on your face.

"Butterfly!" Dent would try to call out to you.

"Princess!" J would hiss with no luck.

You didn't even hear them nor care at that point.

Two months later you marched by their prison cells again.They were awake and they saw you finally looking at both of them with such sorrow in your eyes they knew something was out of place. It made them feel so helpless knowing they are not in control and for the first time since the incarceration they spoke to each other:

"Dent, I think something is very wrong," The Joker broke the silence, growling at his adversary.

"I know, Mister J, it sure seems that way," Harvey huffed, playing with his coin.

"Where the fuck are our men?! We need to get out of this shit hole."

"I'm sure they are working on finding us, this place is well hidden," Two Face replied, turning his back to show J that's all he was willing to say for the moment.

He was right but it took another 3 months for their men to find Belle Reve and bust you out. In the meantime you weren't seen at all and they didn't like it. Were you transferred somewhere else? Were you moved to a different wing? Were you taking another route to get to your therapy or interviews? There was no way to find out.

When all the hell broke loose, Harvey wanted to rush and try to find you but The Joker offered to do that instead; they somehow managed to get along for that. Somebody trustworthy needed to go to the control room, open all the cells and let everybody out. Might as well create more chaos in the accursed place.

J ran up the hallway as fast as he could; he had a vague idea where you might be if you were still around that is. The henchmen were shooting left and right, blowing things up; there was smoke all over and the smell of gunpowder made The Joker feel alive for the first time in months.

When he finally found you, you were sitting in the corner of your cell, your eyes almost closed, not hearing the loud noises.

"Come on Y/N, let's go!" J signaled, waiting and when you didn't move he stepped inside to see you better because he couldn't with all that intoxicating mist around. "Hey, come on let's move it before things really get out of hand! Jesus, Doll," he muttered when he realized the state you were in.

You were so heavily sedated and out of it you didn't recognize him at first:

"...A-are you an angel?..." you stuttered, barely being able to utter the words.

"Yes, I am!" he was fast to answer, reaching his hands for you and lifting you up in his arms. "What did they do to you, Princess?" he whispered in your ear and your blurry mind finally realized who the green haired man was.

"J...J..." that's all you were able to mumble on and on and wrapped your arms around his neck so tight he had to struggle to breathe. But he didn't complain and carried you out, squeezing you harder in his arms as he felt you uncontrollably shivering. Harvey caught up with you two and was stunned when he saw how bad you looked. Before exiting the building he rushed into the last cell he saw and grabbed a blanket, tucking you in while J stopped in his tracks so Harvey can do it properly. Then The Joker dashed out of the prison, heading towards the helicopter waiting for you three, firmly holding you while Harvey grabbed your hand and kissed it, walking behind.

"A-always such... a gentleman," you struggled to say, lifting your head a bit from J's shoulder so you can watch Dent for a few seconds. He just sadly smiled, feeling his heart sinking even more.

And for the first time ever Mister J didn't have a fit hearing you mutter such words.

****************************

They decided you shouldn't be alone so they didn't drop you off at your hideout. Harvey wanted you at his mansion and J at his penthouse. The Joker won the argument because Dent had to go out of town for two weeks with business and that would have defeated the purpose of you not being left alone.

You didn't really talk much so J talked for the both of you. My God, you had no idea he can't shut up. He went on and on forever until you gradually started responding more just to make him take a break.

When you fell asleep you had such bad nightmares he had to come in your bedroom and wake you up so you would stop screaming. The only thing that would soothe you was when J would get in bed by you and traced the butterflies in your neck tattoo with his fingers until you went back to sleep. He wanted to leave but couldn't because your fists were so tightly clenched to his shirt he wasn't able to move without waking you up again. And it sure seemed you needed the rest.

He was always catching himself wanting you so badly but didn't have the heart to force you; you would have probably been such easy prey in the condition you were in. His rotten self never did that to anybody and he wasn't going to start with you. Probably the only bad thing he never did before.

One day when he came back to the penthouse after a heist he found you on the couch, tattooing yourself again. It always calms you down, at least it gives you the impression that you are in control.

The Joker looked at your new butterfly tattoos going up in a twirl on your left arm and the one you were just finishing on your wrist and was very pleased to see what it was.

"Here, " you showed him after the last touch: it was the same J you tattooed on his face awhile back, next to a star.

"Ahhhh, I like it Doll," he grinned, holding your wrist in the palm of his hand. "What's with the star?"

You blinked faster, suddenly recalling your ordeal.

"When you came for me at Belle Reve and you got me out, I was so high on medications I thought you were an angel. Angels come from above, right? The skies and stars? So that's why a star..." you whispered, gulping, averting your eyes, a bit embarrassed but you really wanted him to know.

He was really at a loss of words for once; his troubled mind couldn't process such a disarming answer. The Joker didn't have a smartass come back and you took it as a bad sign:

"...And...ummmm...I was thinking to tattoo Harvey's coin with his initials on my right wrist," you broke the awkward silence, "because you two really saved me."

"Don't !" the Joker objected and kissed the raw skin with his initial. "I don't want to see anything reminding me of him on you, got it?"

His piercing blue eyes were so fierce while saying that you couldn't do anything else but nod in agreement.

"Good, now I want that star on your wrist tattooed on my face, on the other cheek, right here," he pointed out the spot and you were thrilled to oblige. "People need to know I'm an angel," he smirked, taking a sit by you.

You carefully started your work and the only thing he could recon was that someone thought of him that way, even for a moment, and nobody could ever take it away.

One night right after that he was out at one of his clubs and you were in the kitchen grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge when he stormed in, followed by a girl and you froze.

"I'm not here!" you quickly blurred out, walking by the two of them. "You guys have your fun, I'll go in my room and listen to music, or I can go out for once, it's been a while," you kept on nervously yapping, feeling out of place and in the way.

"She's not here for that," J rolled his eyes and snapped at the girl:

"Get the hell out! NOW!"

You stopped and watched her stumble to the elevator, trying to get out as soon as possible because she knew better than not to obey.

"She wasn't here for that," he repeated, stomping towards you and you instinctively backed out, surprised at his reaction. The Joker furiously lifted you up and pinned you against the wall, aggravated:

"You want me to be your Daddy, hmm?" Out of the blue he kissed you and it was so intense it made you light headed. You found yourself kissing him back, moaning, as he pushed himself into you even more.

"Answer me! You want me to be your Daddy?" he managed to ask in between kisses and that word suddenly hit you and he didn't realized you started crying until he took the time to look up. "What? What did I say?" You started crying harder and hugged him so tight he almost choked.

"What's wrong, Doll?" he kept on asking as you sobbed in a frenzy, hiding your face in his neck.

That's when he decided he will find out what happened to you.

It took all he got to call Harvey:

"Dent, it's me; I need help with something."

Harvey sighed, not in the mood.

"It's not for me you jerk, it's for HER," J continued, noticing Two Face didn't want to talk to him.

"I'm listening," Harvey harshly replied, tapping his fingers on his desk.

**************************

You open the door and there he is.

"Oh, hi J, Harvey's not here, I'm house sitting for him," you smile, moving a bit so he can come in.

"I know he's not here," J scoffs, his eyes burning through you when he realizes you are wearing one of Dent's dress shirts.

"Jeez, you're so childish sometimes, I told you before," you snicker. "He was gone before I got here, OK? I just like to wear his shirts when I house sit for him. He told me he likes it," you tease but you should really shut it down.

"How come you never wear mine?" The Joker huffs, annoyed again.

"You never offered," your reply is fast to come as you lift your shoulders up.

That smooth bastard, J thinks, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. He's not here to argue.

He follows you in the living room and you take a sit at the desk, continuing your work on the laptop.

"I'm hacking into Gotham's police files; Harvey wants to know what Gordon is up to these days," you brief him, typing faster and faster when he questions you:

"What happened to you while we were in there?"

***Which brings you to your current situation***

"Please stop asking," you keep on taking steps back and your eyes get watery.

"You have to tell me, NOW!!!! I need the confirmation!!!" he raises his voice and you jump, startled, feeling you are going to break down soon:

"So if you need the confirmation it means that you already found out?"

He shakes his head, grinding his silver grill:

"We want to hear it from you."

You start yelling:

"Why? What do you want to know, hmmm? Do you want to hear how they took me and forced themselves on me? How I got pregnant and how they got rid of the evidence?... And how..." your voice cracks, "I didn't have a say in any of it?... Is this what you want to hear?" You cover your face and you start bawling, heartbroken at the memories you were trying so hard to suppress.

J doesn't say anything to you; he dials on his cellphone and just tells Harvey:

"Shit, it's true... she confirmed. I'm bringing her over," and he hangs up.

****************************

The Joker made you change your clothes and dragged you out to his car, driving you to the warehouse he owns outside Gotham. You finally stopped crying when he pushed you inside the huge chamber, noticing the 6 men in chains, tight up to the wall with Harvey standing by them. It seems they took quite a beating: gags in their mouths, bruises and blood all over them.

You open your mouth in awe, unable to utter a single word when you recognize the faces of the guys that assaulted you and the doctor that took care of the unwanted problem.

"What do you want to do with them, Butterfly?" Dent keeps on flipping his coin while J actually goes and stands by him, both watching your reaction.

"Is it them? Do we have the right ones?" The Joker inquires and you whisper a faint yes.

To their surprise, you crack a smile. They have no idea how relieved you are as you walk right in front of the men that did all those horrid things to you.

"You know, I always wondered which one of you was the lucky Daddy," you smile wider, biting your lip.

What you just said immediately strikes a nerve with J. Dammit, that's why you were so flustered that night when he asked you the stupid question. He just didn't know...

"Do you remember what you said to me?"

Some muffled talk, can't really make up what they try to say but you sure don't care so you continue:

"Try to think at the green haired freak, you'll enjoy it more. And now try to think of that scared jerk, I know you dig him, whore. Just take turns thinking of them and it will feel like the real thing since you screwed both anyway."

"Jesus Christ," Harvey wipes his forehead, disgusted and The Joker scrunches his face in a painful grimace.

"I am not a whore, you assholes," you continue to forcefully smile, "and I don't sleep around, not that you fucking need to know since you'll be dead shortly."

"Do you want to end them yourself ?" J intervenes because he can't stand looking at them anymore and hands you over his purple pistol.

"Oh no, they don't deserve to be killed by me; I don't even care how they die anymore." You take a few deep breaths and start walking away towards the exit. Dent signals the henchmen to finish off the job and you certainly are delighted when you hear the gunshots.

You get outside and Harvey catches up with you, placing his jacket around your shoulders. The Joker quickens his pace and in a few moments he's walking besides you also. You keep on taking small steps, feeling so safe in between the two of them and you really need to say it:

"Thank you...I mean it," you whisper, grateful they helped you out. You certainly realize it wasn't easy since they can't stand each other.

"Nobody does that to one of us and gets away with it, Doll," The Joker grabs your hand, squeezing it.

"U-humm," Dent agrees, starting to play with his coin again. "Now Butterfly, please decide who your favorite is: I'm the head and he's the tails. Let me know when to flip this."

"Shut up, Harvey!" you elbow him, actually laughing softly after you were so tense.

"You're such a dick ," The Joker rolls his eyes, pulling you towards him, pleased that little trick made you happy.