#fat evil children

[belwoodmusic]

Belwood Music Awards 2024

You join us for a very special 10th anniversary edition of our annual Belwood Music Awards. As of today the site has championing music for a whole decade, with 2024 being our most record breaking year yet! The most heartfelt of thanks to everyone that has supported the site over the years, from all the gifted artists creating the music we cover to our regular readers doing their bit to support up…

[mimsiical]

i was reading this blog post about food + chronic illness management and the person was like “let’s talk about the two extremes -- extremely hungry and extremely full. both of these feel bad and we want to avoid them.” and i was like oh buddy. you have never been chronically hungry and i’m embarrassed to have read that sentence.

[dollfat]

stephen king writing a character whos described as disgustingly large: "she was well over 200 pounds"

[absolutedestinyapocalypsse]

i love how as you read more into tlt, the ninth house seems more and more normal. Like if i'm at an immoral evil government competition, and i use human fat as soap and animate skeletons to do menial labor, i'm gonna LOSE if my competition is the third house, represented by ianthe "who HASN'T eaten human flesh and fucked a corpse" tridentarius. My weird skeleton thing seems normal, suddenly. Well-adjusted, even. It's recycling. They're using resources in a sustainable way. Normal and regular and productive for a post-climate change apocalypse universe.

People go on and on about how Muir drops you into gtn hearing from the person who knows the least about whats happening, and does not hand hold the reader through the crazy shit that occurs, and that's all true. It truly is a crazy writing decision to make your first pov character come from the universe's equivalent of amish fundamentalists. But the reader is actually done a huge favor being dropped into the ninth house first, because we already understand that space is cold and what catholic nuns are, and what goths look like, and what lesbians are. Very little time is wasted in the first chunk of gtn ripping hair out of your head wondering what the fuck is going on, because for all of its strangeness, the ninth house is already the most familiar thing we're gonna get.

Because THEN we learn that this whole universe's medieval chivalry system is designed to groom people from CHILDREN to not only be exploited and used as human batteries for necromancers, but to LIKE it. to wax poetic about it. to confuse it for love, to write fucking academic papers about it! Then we learn about planet flipping, an act so horrific and violent it turns the planet's soul into a massive vengeful monster capable of killing GOD. Like what do you MEAN the animals "change"? Is this why noodle has six legs? I would MUCH prefer to wear skeleton makeup and repent forever if the alternative was to witness my family dog grow TWO EXTRA LIMBS because the planet he lived on fucking died. Suddenly, living in the asscrack of a planet where no light gets in seems like a sweet deal when the whole solar system is lit by a sun that MAKES YOU GO CRAZY. The ninth house's WORST sin, killing 200 babies to make Harrow, a waste of resources and an act so terrible it haunts Harrow for the entire span of her life, is like a BLIP compared to the death count Jod's empire. God even hears about it and he's like, no big deal! The cohort probably kills that amount of people in a DAY.

And its ALSO tragic because you realize that all of this trauma and abuse that Gideon goes through is not really because of the ninth house at all. It's really just an individual skill issue that she wasn't treated with compassion. Nobody hated her because she's jesus or a bomb, nobody even KNOWS she's a bomb. It's just Priamhark and Pelleamena being deeply guilty and scared people that motivates her treatment, and absolutely nothing else.

They did something bad, and they know it, and Gideon survived it, and they can't kill her to cover it up, and that's IT. They killed themselves for pride, because they were afraid of the consequences of their actions (both the baby killing and Harrow opening the tomb) coming back to bite them. You can argue this is the catholicism of it all, and I wouldn't say you're wrong, but compared to the cavalier system, where exploitation is in the very lining of the house's institutions, the ninth house is really removed from the space empire's blood factory. This is compared to the fourth house where they have tons of children to be CANNON FODDER to join the cohort at fucking 14, compared to the eight house uncle nephew fuckery, even the fifth house which actually does seems nice to live on but also seems to have the fourth house in some sort of fucked up political bear hug??? (maybe the fourth house has so many kids in order to fight the fifth's battles? which is EXACTLY what jod's whole empire is about; politely stirring your tea and acting nice while you destroy everything) compared to ALL OF THAT, the cruelty that Gideon faces is really more a bug of the ninth's system than a feature.

There's nothing baked into the culture and everyday life of the ninth house that necessitated that cruelty; in fact, for such a pragmatic and resource-scarce place, it's WEIRD that a strong able-bodied young person was treated like a waste of space and resources. It could just have easily not happened, if Harrow's parents had been different people. Maybe they were products of their environment, but so was Harrow, and she values Gideon's life SO MUCH that she'd literally rather carve out parts of her own brain than exploit her. Gideon grows up knowing really NOTHING about cavaliers, so remote from the horrors of the empire that she develops an idea of what the cohort is from porn magazines. And in a lot of ways, that upbringing was desolate and terrible, and in a lot of other ways it literally DID NOT HAVE TO BE.

Gideon's MAIN THING is that she wants to be useful, to be needed, to be loved and it SUCKS that she couldn't even get it in the one place where she was actually an invaluable resource, where the death empire had the weakest reach. Gideon can't even blame her lack of love on the fucked up chivalry system like everyone else can because it JUST WASNT REALLY RELEVENT!?!?! This is like if i rolled up to the trauma competition and everyone else was raised in a nuclear warzone by wolves or something and i grew up in like, the suburbs and was raised by teachers and i somehow STILL WON. truly what the fuck guys.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Mothers day Meltdown

[mysterious circle of robed figures] JK Rowling: hello children Rowling: I was just thinking about how transs people should be eliminated from ssociety Jonathan Chait: whoa whoa whoa! joanne! Chait: you can't say it like THAT Chait: so uncouth Chait: you have to say it with your pinky finger extended

Elon Musk: si! issa no good! Musk: issa too mucha trans genocide Musk: you shoulda only post the right amount offa da trans geocide Musk: lookita me, i lika da trans genocide Musk: but i also like many other genocides Rowling: oh MY GOD Rowling: my empire is crumbling!

Chait: we're not saying you can't still be transphobic Chait: you just have to, you know, cool it a bit Chait: be genteel about it Jesse Singal: mommy mommy i have concerns mommy! Chait: see? just like that

Chait: maybe put a little disclaimer Chait: "this transphobia is for entertainment purposes only" Rowling: do you not know who I am?? I'm JK Rowling! Rowling: JK FUCKING ROWLING!!! Rowling: I MADE YOUR CHILDHOOD MAGICAL!

Rowling: no one tellss me to cool it! Rowling: i own the courtss! Chait: joanne Rowling: and another thing!!! Rowling: SSTOP CALLING ME JOANNE!

[midnight society] JK Rowling: hello children Barker: oh look who it is Barker: what are you doing here joanne? Barker: did your terfs tell you to cool it again? Rowling: Rowling: why doess everyone call me joanne

Rowling: i'm extremely mad about thiss transs football referee Barker: what? Rowling: this transs football referee Barker: Barker: what?

Rowling: there's a transs football referee and i'm really mad about it! Rowling: what, haven't you heard? Barker: joanne, why are you here Rowling: and another thing! Rowling: sstop calling me joanne!!

Rowling: people are alwayss all "joanne this" and joanne that! Rowling: wah wah wah joanne joanne joanne! Barker: do you not like your name Barker: you could change it Poe: clive Poe: just let her tire herself out Barker: no no I've got something here

Rowling: people are alwayss "oh wah wah wah joanne, how can you ssay that! your bookss are all about tolerance and love wah wah wah!" Rowling: bitch i think i know what my booksss are about! Rowling: i fuckin wrote them after all!

Rowling: blah blah blah ohh joanne Rowling: i hate when people call me joanne!! Rowling: they should fear to say my true name! Barker: oh damn look at that Barker: looks like we're having a good ol' fashioned mothers day meltdown Poe: clive don't encourage this

King: but joanne! how can you say that? King: after all the lessons of harry potter? King: you made our childhoods magical!

Rowling: people are all "blah blah blah joanne how can you like naziss now when you ssaid they were bad in harry potter" Rowling: first of all, harry potter iss fiction! Rowling: secondly, the death eaters are actually a ssinister coalition of evil transs, sspooniess, fat people, free masonss, and diane duane Rowling: always have been! Rowling: thiss iss NOT a retcon!

Rowling: that sshould be obviouss if you've read the book Rowling: UNLESSS Rowling: you're a fake potterhead, ssteve King: no of course not! i love harry potter

Rowling: DO YOU Rowling: perhaps then Rowling: you would be willing to take a blood oath to the dark lord Rowling: to belong to the dark lord body and ssoul Rowling: who is always correct King: i uh don't think i'm going to take that oath, sorry Rowling: UGH! Rowling: this is just like Radcliffe all over again!

[megamuscle885-blog]

i'm literally the priest's most hated sacrificial lamb because i am the most violent and spiteful and i would kick and scream the whole way from the pen when they put the rope around my neck. i gore the traitorous shepherd in the thigh as he pulls me along and i dig my hooves into the feet of every onlooker and i take a finger from each of the six grown men that have to hold me still on the altar with my bones splintering in their grips because they have to hold me so tightly or i would escape. i bite off the head priest's cock so his less experienced subordinate has to come at me with the sacrificial knife and he has to saw through my neck and stomach and he cuts gouges out of his own hands every time the knife slips as it becomes dull and blunt on my spinal cord and ribcage. and my every cry is a curse and my eyes are filled with righteous indignation as my poisonous guts spill out onto the soil and i void my rancid bowels onto the men that hold me and the whole village weeps from the stench and the sound and the sight but i refuse to forgive them because i would never be their acceptable, necessary evil. and as they try to burn me as an offering to god the acrid smoke that floats off my burning corpse overpowers their incense and poisons the air around the church for weeks and the rancid fat and grease and dark blood gets into the floorboards and the walls and all over their sacred idols and stained glass and the splintered bones they cast into the flames spit and explode and pierce into the eyes of children and goodwives and the wounds become infested with my feces and urine and no matter how many times i come back to life crawling out of my own smoking viscera i never forgive them i never forgive them i never forgive them

[sailing-ever-west]

Okay but can we talk about how Big Mom is like one of the best portrayals in fiction of the problems with exoticism?

Narratives where one group hates the other for racial, cultural, physical, or other reasons are common, and although they still require nuanced execution to really be meaningful, in essence they're fairly easy to set up. "You're different, so I hate you and want you beneath me."

Exoticism, on the other hand, is something I really don't see dealt with as much. It takes more thought to explore the idea that oppression can be expressed not as outright hatred of certain traits, but through sensationalizing and commodifying them. Thinking a trait is cool or beautiful, but taking away the rights of the person it belongs to.

The way Totto Land is run demonstrates this perfectly. On the surface it's "accepting" of all races, people of all shapes and sizes, but not being directly attacked and discriminated against is held over all of their heads in order to exploit them for continued donations of their literal life force. Acceptance is conditional on their usefulness.

Big Mom also literally collects living creatures in a scrapbook zoo for her own entertainment, and creates beings bound to her will out of inanimate objects. She's enchanted with the idea of Brook as a living skeleton, holding him like a doll and playing with his hair (relevant that it's an afro, imo), only upset at his apparent "death" because she's lost her new favorite toy.

It's shown perhaps even more starkly with all of Big Mom’s children. She births offspring of every race in order to have their powerful traits under her command, and discards the fathers once they've added to the gene pool as she wanted. It's a tool of imperialism to get those people groups under her reign. And as shown with Pudding and Katakuri, she can sometimes personally be disgusted by the physical traits of her mixed children and make them feel the need to hide, only tolerating their appearance in hopes they'll be useful. She can't stand that Pudding looks like a beautiful human girl in every way except for that "gross ugly eye," a necessary evil that is only a positive if it grants her powers. She discriminates against her daughter even while benefiting from her.

It all feels so reminiscent of "oh, I only date Asian women because they're more attractive and have good wife traits," and "you're so pretty, but you'd look better with straight hair," and "white and Filipino couples make the most beautiful babies, that's who I want to marry," and "wow, you're so pale, I could barely guess you were Mexican," and "black people are just naturally better at sports" and "you'd look better with a tan" and "you'd look better if you were lighter" and "black hair is gorgeous but it doesn't look professional" and "I'm dressed up as a Gypsy/Indian/etc." and "I want a curvy girl but actually fat people are gross," and "I'd love to have a gay best friend lol, as long as they don't make it their whole personality," and "autism is your superpower! why do you act so weird though?" and on and on and on.

Big Mom is a fascinating and surprisingly realistic example of obsession with unique traits despite giving no actual respect to the people who have them. Once again, Oda, hats off on shockingly accurate depictions of oppressive systems.

[genderqueerdykes]

whats feminist about dragging other women for their appearance. what's feminist about calling other women ugly. what's feminist about mocking women with facial hair. what's feminist about mocking women with small or no breasts and equating their worth to their boobs. what's feminist about abusing fat women and mocking them for how clothes look on our bodies. what's feminist about saying women's body's have to be 1 specific size and shape or else the person isn't a woman. what's feminist about boiling women down to whether or not they're beautiful and making that be their ultimate worth? what's feminist about harrassing a woman, or anyone else, who wants or needs to take testosterone HRT because testosterone is "evil" and will make them "ugly"?

what's feminist about saying someone can't be a woman because they don't have the same face shape as you. what's feminist about saying that athletic cis women have bodies that are disgusting and "too much like a man's to be a woman". what's feminist about demonizing and antagonizing women who are sex workers. what's feminist about telling butch women who are happy that they're being misguided by the patriarchy for being masculine. what's feminist about demonizing and isolating women who have healthy sex lives? what's feminist about criticizing women who don't want to have children and equating that to their end all be all in life? what's feminist about treating a woman like a failure if they don't have children?

what's feminist about oppressing, abusing, manipulating, hurting, isolating and brainwashing women?

nothing. none of this is feminism. don't let that word leave your mouth if you can't conceptualize that abusing women will never be feminist, even women you personally don't like.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 7 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

ah yes, episode 7, a notoriously low stakes one that people are not emotionally invested in whatsoever. a mere 9.1 on IMDB, nothing to write home about.

we start with lilia dying, because life and death are a never ending cycle. and also because the people who made this show are evil

she's like a teardrop. good fucking shot.

meanwhile billy is marching on, puffing his chest, all stone faced. agatha is pretending to be a nice little guy, to make friends.

she's really TRYING, okay?

rio's busy reaping alice's soul, but we don't reveal that until later. and LMAO agatha being all like, I'm gonna be OPEN and HONEST and a good ment- except for that I donwannatalkabouthat

agatha after she babysits a little boy once, scares him shitless and tries to kill his mom: we CLEARLY had a connection there

that poor little dash in the subtitles. fighting for its life to convey the chasm of time she leaves between ex and best friend

LET'S HEAR IT FOR REBECCA WHO RAISED THIS BOY FOR FAR LONGER THAN WANDA OR AGATHA EVER DID

but the unfortunate fact is, wanda still is his mother. or rather, she's the witch who thoughtlessly created him and left a big scar in her wake. he has to deal with all that.

marvel's powers that be: wanda maximoff is definitely dead-dead

jac schaeffer and co. every chance they get: she sure is!!! *big fat kathryn hahn wink at the camera*

if they ever do a 'marvel most iconic line' poll we as a fandom are voting for this one. just to be clear.

I saw some reactors going ooooh it's ho***rts. HOW DARE YOU SIR. that's the wicked witch castle. billy maximoff would never.

I've been asking myself WHY agatha simply doesn't tell billy about the nature of the Road, not even now that everything else is out in the open. the only answer I can come up with is that the Road is real and it's here and deadly, it's not in any way an illusion. and since the Road is linked to billy's emotional state, we dont' want him to go ballistic one he realizes he's been killing witches. agatha has decided she can only soldier through at this point and get herself and billy's home, they can talk about the implications later. yes, she's really scared of what billy can do.

I've also been trying to figure out the moon phases:

Full moon - water phase, blue, Jen.

Waning moon - fire phase, red, Alice.

Blood moon or lunar eclipse (still a full moon): spirit phase, purple, Agatha

Waxing moon: air phase, yellow, Lilia

New moon: earth phase, green, Rio

so we get full moon, waning, full moon again, waxing, new moon. they're completely out of order??

this whole trial is the equivalent of billy calling lilia a slur. no fr it's billy repeatedly beating lilia over the head with a stick and going, reCLAIM IT RECLAIM THE DAMN SLUR YOU WITCH

i find kathryn hahn as the wicked witch of the west alarmingly hot and i don't know what that says about me

billy is like, i effin KNEW I'd look this good. oh god, the Road was just an excuse to cosplay as maleficent all along

i love how these two find themselves alone for five minutes and immediately proceed to BUTCHER a trial. i'm overusing tumblr lingo these days and all, but I still gotta say it: there is one single braincell in this whole coven and lilia has it. it's like leaving two children in charge

a cursory google search tells me the two sphinxes represent light and darkness, you need to learn how to control both for the chariot to move forward

she always is!! sort of. kind of. mostly.

agatha, who's about as spiritual as a q-tip: how hard caN THIS BE

I can totally see her as a con artist counting cards in vegas

somehow I cannot picture evanora homeschooling her. or sending her to school at all, for that matter. you know this bitch is self-taught.

someone with more time than me should totally check if there's any rhyme or reason to the cards these two buffoons drew

I'm gonna end this entry with lilia's eyes again so it's another nice circle. a fun little ouroboros!

damn patti has such big doe eyes

go to episode 7 part 2

[gingermintpepper]

In my Zeus bag today so I'm just gonna put it out there that exactly none of the great Ancient Greek warrior-heroes stayed loyal and faithful and completely monogamous and yet none of them have their greatness questioned nor do we question why they had the cultural prominence that they did and still do.

Jason, the brilliant leader of the Argo, got cold feet when it came to Medea - already put off by some of her magic and then exiled from his birthland because of her political ploys, he took Creusa to bed and fully intended on marrying her despite not properly dissolving things with Medea.

Theseus was a fierce warrior and an incredibly talented king but he had a horrible temper and was almost fatally weak to women. This is the man who got imprisoned in the Underworld for trying to get a friend laid, the man who started the whole Attic War because he couldn't keep his legs closed.

And we cannot at all forget Heracles for whom a not inconsiderable amount of his joy in life was loving people then losing the people around him that he loved. Wives, children, serving boys, mentors, Heracles had a list of lovers - male and female - long enough to rival some gods and even after completing his labours and coming down to the end of his life, he did not have one wife but three.

And y'know what, just because he's a cultural darling, I'll put Achilles up here too because that man was a Theseus type where he was fantastic at the thing he was born to do (that is, fight whereas Theseus' was to rule) but that was not enough to eclipse his horrid temper and his weakness to young pretty things. This is the man that killed two of Apollo's sons because they wouldn't let him hit - Tenes because he refused to let Achilles have his sister and Troilus who refused Achilles so vehemently that he ran into Apollo's temple to avoid him and still couldn't escape.

All four of these men are still celebrated as great heroes and men. All four of these men are given the dignity of nuance, of having their flaws treated as just that, flaws which enrich their character and can be used to discuss the wider cultural point of what truly makes a hero heroic. All four of these men still have their legacies respected.

Why can that same mindset not be applied to Zeus? Zeus, who was a warrior-king raised in seclusion apart from his family. Zeus who must have learned to embrace the violence of thunder for every time he cried as a babe, the Corybantes would bang their shields to hide the sound. Zeus learned to be great because being good would not see the universe's affairs in its order.

The wonderful thing about sympathy is that we never run out of it. There's no rule stopping us from being sympathetic to multiple plights at once, there's no law that necessitate things always exist on the good-evil binary. Yes, Zeus sentenced Prometheus to sufferation in Tartarus for what (to us) seems like a cruel reason. Prometheus only wanted to help humans! But when you think about Prometheus' actions from a king's perspective, the narrative is completely different: Prometheus stole divine knowledge and gifted it to humans after Zeus explicitly told him not to. And this was after Prometheus cheated all the gods out of a huge portion of wealth by having humans keep the best part of a sacrifice's meat while the gods must delight themselves with bones, fat and skin. Yes, Zeus gave Persephone away to Hades without consulting Demeter but what king consults a woman who is not his wife about the arrangement of his daughter's marriage to another king? Yes, Zeus breaks the marriage vows he set with Hera despite his love of her but what is the Master of Fate if not its staunchest slave?

The nuance is there. Even in his most bizarre actions, the nuance and logic and reason is there. The Ancient Greeks weren't a daft people, they worshipped Zeus as their primary god for a reason and they did not associate him with half the vices modern audiences take issue with. Zeus was a father, a visitor, a protector, a fair judge of character, a guide for the lost, the arbiter of revenge for those that had been wronged, a pillar of strength for those who needed it and a shield to protect those who made their home among the biting snakes. His children were reflections of him, extensions of his will who acted both as his mercy and as his retribution, his brothers and sisters deferred to him because he was wise as well as powerful. Zeus didn't become king by accident and it is a damn shame he does not get more respect.

[thatnonameuser]

You said something about Azul's darling having children healing his childhood trauma. ANGST WARNING!! AND BULLYING!

This gave me an idea, he was bullied for being slow and different from other kids from the original plot. In this yandere au, that can be twisted into how he's such a loser, he'll probably never be good enough for a darling to accept him. He's so fat, not even a kind and pitiful darling, would want him. How the other mers think he's so stupid that he'd fumble trying to catch his darling and that they'll just be claimed by another, cooler, yandere. Laughing at him all the while so and flexing how their wonderful talents and skills would be enough to steal away a darling's heart, unlike him.

I can imagine how much this'll break his self esteem and brand him as a "weak yandere" to the other fishies. Azul would strive to be the opposite of all this, he would plan to take away their special abilities to "win a darling over" and make it his own, as his unique magic forms through sheer spite. He's so jaded and the thoughts of not being good enough to have a darling still ingrained in him. He probably won't fall in love with MC until after his overblot. Having the internal belief that, no darling would want a loser like him.. He probably won't care that MC is a darling at first and is just planning to use her as leverage against the other yanderes. Hence, taking over her only place to live. It benefits him as well since he'll be able to open another branch of the Mostro lounge and attract the other yanderes.

But then something changes. MC does something while they are inside the blot space. He realizes that.. she sees more in him than anyone ever had. Even if MC says so only in passing cause she's reasonably pissed- He can't help but focus on those specific words, ignoring the rest of her rant. Suddenly, he feels whole, and he knows she doesn't want to share this feeling with anyone. Suddenly...

He's already drafting a contract after their visit in the coral sea museum, giggling to himself as he marks that day their first date....

I hope you find this idea as interesting as I did!! I love Azul 😁

I really love asks for the yandereverse, because there are so many ways that the charas’ backstories can change. Azul’s bullying making him insecure when it comes to his darling is perfect, and it kind of works with how the Coral Sea sees yanderes and darlings. I also love Azul, I love me an evil mafia man.

The Coral Sea is an anti-darling rights area, so yanderes have more freedom to do what they want in order to take their darlings for themselves. And yanderes are supposed to be strong and tough, how else do they keep their darlings safe and with them? The kids of the Coral Sea know that well. 

And Azul wasn’t that. He was slow, and weak and a scaredy-catfish crybaby who hid inside a pot. HE was supposed to be a yandere? That was genuinely surprising to nearly all his former classmates. And they made sure he knew that. Their teasing was relentless….

‘Are you sure they weren’t wrong? You’re not supposed to be slow and stupid if you’re like us.’

‘He’ll probably lose his darling.’

‘I’d hate to be them, he’s so fat and icky.’

….And at the same time they rub salt into the wound. After all, they’re fast and strong and smart and talented and good looking. They’ll get their darlings no problem, while he will be left alone and broken hearted watching his darling being with someone else. All the bullying broke him down over a while, he started to think it was right. 

But despite all the bullying, Azul still tries his hardest to stop being the weak yandere his peers deemed him as. And in a form of vengeance, he’ll take away the special abilities they shoved in his face to remind him how inferior he was, After all, the yanderes that bullied him have their own insecurities that they want to hide from their darlings, so he’ll take their very best away to make himself better for his future darling. He’ll make himself better so that whoever he falls for won’t have to be disgusted by him. (While making his bullies as disgusting to their darlings as they said he’d be .)

But… He just can’t forget the years of bullying ingrained into him. What darling would want him? What darling would love him when he’s just a dim-witted octopus? That denial blinds him up till when he finally meets you. 

Once he’s aware of you being a darling he sees the opportunity, not love. (Because he doesn’t deserve you, so why bother?). After all, what would all your yanderes do or pay to have you for themselves? No price is too high when it comes to a darling, and so, getting you under his thumb is his first priority. Getting you out of Ramshackle and under his control/ownership will make this so much easier. But there’s one big problem. 

You won’t sign his contracts. You told him you’d rather never go home than sign one. I imagine after that point, he starts trying to find loopholes to get you to sign. And your friends are his best bet. So he tricks Ace, Deuce and Grim into being indebted to him, so that you’ll feel obligated to help them. But that didn’t work, because (to be honest, you’re grateful for the alone time) you just let them be stuck in a contract with him. Fortunately, Crowley got involved and you had to go into a contract with him. 

But unfortunately, instead of accepting his offer to stay at Octavinelle till the time limit was up, you proceeded to stay over in Savanaclaw. He’d never been more angry before in his life. The idea of you sleeping with and doing seven-only-knows with those beasts never made him more jealous. The smell of Leona Kingscholar on your skin made him want to add onto the debt the prince owed in vengeance. 

But not wanting to spoil anything more, in the blot space your attempts to pull him out of his self-loathing, change him. He sees that you care about him, that you don’t think he’s a not a stupid, ugly octopus and that instead you see him as something more. Someone who’s hardworking, intelligent, and even cute. And that moment, he truly realizes his love for you. You’re not like the others, you see something in him that no one ever had before. He doesn’t get that you’re saying it only for the sake of your, and maybe a little of his, life. Those words echo in his head. You love him, all his bullies were wrong, his darling isn’t disgusted by him. He feels whole….

…..And he doesn’t want to share this feeling. This complete joy.

He needs you to be his. He’ll draft another contract, one intended to make sure no one else will ever be able to steal you from him and ensure you’ll be by his side, on the land and in the sea. The museum will be like a date to him, hearing your kind words about his childhood appearance makes that younger self cry with joy.

You, quite literally, became the center of his world. And he intends to hold that same place as he becomes a part of your world. Whether you like it or not.

[henneseyhoe]

NSFW ALPHABET✮ Trevante Rhodes.

✮✮✮✮

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

One thing about him is he gonna check on his baby 😭 He knows he can get rough at times when he has more stress pent up and most of the time you welcomed it, but he would hate if he hurt you after the fact.

“It wasn’t too much, right?” He would ask after wiping you down and laying next to you, pulling your body close to his. You simply nod, unable to say a word as you slowly drifted off to a peaceful slumber, ignoring the thumping between your legs.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He LOVES your thighs. There wasn’t a moment his hands weren’t on them when you’re close to him. He’d grip them, squeeze the thickness of them before trailing his hands up to your hip dips and over to your ass, giving it a smack that had you yelping and softly pushing at him as a warning. He smirks with no intimidation put into him, leaning down and kissing your lips.

When it came to him, his favorite body part had to be his hands. You loved them, therefore he did too. They were big, big enough to cover the whole front of your throat when fucking you into your mattress, veins protruding from his soft skin as he softly squeezes the sides of your neck. Your own hands came up to lay on top of his, softly caressing as you came.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside. Point blank period. If it wasn’t for your birth control, you’d be six children and one on the way locked in with the man, and he’d be proud of it. If you were sucking him off, he’d ask you to stand and bend over quickly just before he cums, shoving himself deep inside your wet warmth and filling you up to the brim with his seed, leaving you leaking with nut that didn’t make it inside you dripping down your thigh. He’d take his finger and wipe it up after he pulls out, sliding two digits into you after to make sure you were good and stuffed.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants you to sit on his face so, so, so BAD. You were a thicker girl so you were scared to, always shoving him away and laughing his dirty jokes off when he was dead serious about you riding his tongue. Secretly, that was the main things he thought about when he jerks off. He thinks about you fucking his mouth till you physically couldn’t cum anymore, thighs shaking on either side of his head with your pussy on full display for him to indulge in again, even long after you say you couldn’t go any longer.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Let’s be real, Trevante has been around the block. A few times actually! He wasn’t a whore per se, but he liked sex like any other adult human being. He knew his way around some pussy, especially yours. He knew that kisses on your neck is what really turned you on, he knew the way your clit jumps every time he says your name in a rough tone, he knows how much you cream in reverse cowgirl, and he knew the only way to make you squirt was to press down on your stomach and rub your clit while fucking you at the same time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl, you bent alll the way over so he could see how well you wrap around his dick. Who dont wanna see a fat ass jiggle in their face? He definitely does. Trevante loved your thighs, but he was also a proud ass man.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, but he does not hesitate to crack an evil pearly white smile when you start tapping out wether that would be while he fingers you, eats you out, fucks you, or shoves his dick down your throat. He found pride in being able to push you to a limit because he knew no other was even close to doing it, and if they were, he’d beat that record with ease.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He likes his trimmed. The only time he has went bare was when he was younger, back then he liked a completely clean shave, even when it came to his women, but these days he just trims and goes on about his day and now it didn’t matter for his women. He was gonna feast regardless.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He isn’t romeo, but he knows what makes you swoon. He’s never one to forget a special occasion, and if he feeling spiffy then he’s gonna make some shit up just to love you up a little more than what he does on a regular basis.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

You travel for work, so often times he’s alone for an extended amount of time. Some might think he just be stroking it back to back, but he actually likes to save it all for you. If he does touch himself, he’s definitely not cumming. He’d edge himself for hours just to get the sense of cumming and that alone would hold him off just until you got home. That’s when he’d go absolutely feral for you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Long before you two made it official you could see he had a thing for degrading. In college you two would hang out, you’d help him study and keep his grades up so he could stay on the track team and he’d…well nothing, there was no exchange for you other than having someone to laugh at. It wasn’t until he kept calling you stupid one study session where all horny hell broke loose. Yall fucked like rabbits any and everywhere on that campus. You had officially been his nasty bitch.

Oh and like i said before, thighs. Sometimes he didn’t even need the pussy. All he did was beg you to pull your pants off so he could fuck your thighs, and you’d happily oblige. he slid his thick dick between your legs, you allowing the fat on your thighs and the softness of your cotton panties mold around his dick as he thrusts, only getting faster when he feels himself slipping into sweet euphoria.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His apartment had floor to ceiling windows so you already know you were getting fucked above hundreds of passing cars. He didnt care and the reflection of you two only added to the satisfaction of the thought that someone could be watching him claim your body. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cum thinking about that too.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you walk around the house with them tight ass shorts you like to wear or (un)surprisingly enough, that moomoo you wear after braiding your hair back and putting it in a bonnet to protect it for your hair appointment the next day. You couldn’t count how many times he has shoved that gown up your waist, snatched that bonnet off or pushed the crotch of your shorts to the side. Honestly, anything showing you in a natural state wether it’d be you in a moomoo or you comfortable with being half naked, it was an instant boner alert.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’d try anything once for you, but pegging is an instant no-no. Not that he has some type of weird thought behind it, he just wouldn’t think he’d rock with it like other niggas. Plus, he wasn’t that type of submissive, if he was gonna put you in a dominant position, it’d involve him with still some kind of control(until you take that too of course).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He does it all baby. He knows you like to watch him eat your pussy with his grillz in, and he loves the way you take dick down your throat with ease. When I said he knew his way around some pussy, I wasn’t kidding. He utilized that long tongue and used eating pussy as a jaw work out that he thoroughly enjoyed. In all reality, he didn’t care if he was on the receiving end or not, he was having his fun anyway.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, he does it all baby. Say you want it slow and he’s making love to you, swirling his hips in ways that had his length reaching places that you had no idea were there. Tell him you wanna be fucked like a slut and he’s knocking the mario coins out that ass. Sometimes all it took was a simple look for him to understand exactly how you wanted it and you loved that about him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’d rather have time with you to really enjoy the sex but he’s definitely not turning down no quickie regardless. His boo want some dick real quick? He’s there, in there like swimwear.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like I said, He’d try anything at least once. The day you two tried bondage was probably the nastiest he’s ever been and the time you used a vibrator to tease him? He had never came so much.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two rounds consecutively, give him a water break and he’s back in it like he never left. Sometimes he didn’t even need water and just wanted to get you ready for the next round. Usually in total he likes three rounds, but he will go further if you can take it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t have any of his own. Not that he was against it, he just didn’t need any to get off, and if he were to use one it was most likely on you until you initiated something else.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sex didn’t come without teasing with him. He did it well before he was even doing anything sexual, sometimes on accident. Like when he’d grip your thigh but accidentally go way too far up, his hand grazing your clothed warmth with every tight squeeze of his fingers.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a grunter. A sigher. Sometimes even a whimperer when it’s been some time since he’s been with you. He makes sure you can hear how you make him feel and he makes sure you make enough noise to tell him he’s doing well too.

W = Wild card

Idk what to put here chile. We have established that nigga is a supaaa freak.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Lord have mercy. It was no secret that he was an adonis of a man. He takes care of his entire body and believes it is a temple. So if he’s clean on the outside, then he will be clean on the inside too. When it comes to the size of that hammer? You thought he was gonna rip you apart the first time you two had sex. He was slightly above average but his thickness was what really did it for you. Every time you two have sex, you can’t believe all of it actually fits inside.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Oh he’s a true yearner, but he keeps it under wraps. Not saying he’s nonchalant cause that’s definitely not the case, maybe back then, but definitely not now. He gonna let his baby know he misses her, but he ain’t gonna let her know how he’s fucking his hand thinking about her while she’s gone, or how he sleeps with her pillow cause it still smells like her hair oil, or how he has a specific mode on his phone that changes his background to his favorite picture of you two. Yeah, that man be down bad for his boo.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes to talk to his girl first, asking her what she liked about what he did to her, what he should do next time, etc. Then he’ll pull you close after all your rambling and fall asleep with you.

✮✮✮✮

ps. who should i do next??

[daycourtofficial]

How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 3.2k | warnings: depictions of violence

Summary: Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and mentions events that are detailed in ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’. This is also anplay on the ‘retellings’ prompt for today - thought it’d be fun to have Eris sanitize how Beron died as a fairytale story @erisweekofficial

“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” - G.K. Chesterton

The sound of wood clashing rang through the room before being immediately followed by a trio of giggles. Eris stood outside the door, arms crossed debating what to do, listening as the children inside pretended to be knights defeating an evil king. Or was it a dragon they were fighting and they were Peregryn warriors? It was impossible to keep track of Atlas, Nyx, and Leif’s antics. Their interests changed so quickly, it was impossible to keep track of what was the thing to be during their playtimes.

Their games of make believe often took elements of Eris’s life and formed a hodgepodge of stories where most of the time they are brave warriors seeking to defend their lands.

The boys enjoyed it. Eris’s back didn’t whenever he was deemed the bad guy, their small swords leaving bruises that seemed to last for a week.

Early fights between the boys had led to many tears - they all wanted to be the hero, the good guy. They did not know the males their fathers had been before, the males who had done unspeakable things to survive.

Before he could make the decision himself, Leif had made it for him by appearing in the door way and holding onto Eris’s trouser leg. Eris ran his fingers through Leif’s red locks, forcing his son to look up at him.

Leif was incredibly sensitive - an empath like his mother, Leif often became overwhelmed incredibly quickly. Fat tears would begin rolling down his cheeks before anyone could realize what went wrong. Nyx and Atlas, both a few years older than Leif, often became too rambunctious for the smallest Vanserra.

But Leif’s eyes were bright and full of joy, not a hint of upset on his small face.

You and the Archerons had gone to spend the evening in a cabin a few miles away. You weren’t far from the Forest House or from Eris’s mind, but you insisted you needed a weekend before this next babe came to be yourself. Three kids under five was going to be a lot and the two of you wanted to soak up every moment possible before having a newborn again.

Unfortunately, Leif took the separation from his mother much harder than Atlas did, but seemed to be doing surprisingly well. Eris crouched down, getting down to Leif’s level to ask, “are you alright?”

The small boy nodded before a yawn escaped his mouth, betraying his real feelings.

“Are you tired?”

Leif’s nod at that question was more pitiful, as if a full nod were too taxing for the small boy. Eris opened his arms, allowing Leif to wrap his arms around Eris’s neck before he stood back up, walking into the playroom, finding it impossible to find the floor from the toys scattered across it. He got peeks at the green rug beneath, but various plushies and toy armor littered the floor hiding it.

Eris whistled, the two whirlwinds slowing down enough to take form as small boys, their swords going lax at their sides.

“Is this a playroom or a graveyard for lost toys for all of Prythian?”

The two looked to each other as they fell into a mess of giggles, the cousins looking completely unrelated. Atlas so far had inherited no features from his mother, the little boy pale and freckly much like his father, his cheeks often pink from how hot he ran.

Nyx on the other hand was quite tan, a byproduct of the time he spent in the sun this summer. His small wings fluttered in excitement, not quite strong enough to launch him from the ground but enough to produce a decent wind.

Eris had gotten all three of them washed up an hour ago, allowing them to work out the last of their energy in the playroom where he knew they wouldn’t get dirty again. He figured Lucien had crept off to his own rooms to change, his clothes dripping with water after Atlas snuck his hound, Pumpkin, into their bath and Lucien had to chase down the wet beast.

Eris was so amused at the sight he didn’t tell his brother he could simply call for the dog, instead letting him slip and slide across the floors in an attempt to get to him.

The boys stood in their pajamas, all looking up at Eris. He moved his head toward the door, motioning for Atlas and Nyx to follow him.

“Come on. Time for bed.”

The two small boys groaned, but Leif merely nuzzled into Eris’s neck as he carried him into the room down the hall.

Despite the size of the Forest House, Atlas and Leif did much better when sharing a room. The two had been kept separate when Leif was born, until Leif was around eight months old and Atlas woke up just about every night and dragged Leif into his bedroom.

Most mornings Eris found Leif in Pumpkin’s dog bed in the corner of Atlas’s room, curled up with his older brother, Pumpkin sleeping peacefully on his son’s bed.

The first morning it happened caused Eris to spiral. Finding Leif’s crib empty sent him on a hunt throughout the house, waking up everybody in the process until he went to check on Atlas, finding the small babe in his brother’s arms.

It has been several years and the boys fight on occasion, but overall are quite happy to share a room. For tonight they get to have Nyx share their room too.

To prepare for their cousin, the boys grabbed their mattresses, pushing them together on the floor and putting pillows and blankets all over the floor so all three of them could lay together.

Nyx’s wings were still quite small - not big enough to support his weight, they barely stuck out around his shoulders. The sight of Nyx’s wings still sent a twinge of guilt through Eris.

It had been centuries since your wings were taken from you, but Eris still remembers the venom he had spat at you right before you lost them and how incredibly small you looked when Tamlin had showed up with you, your back a bloody mess.

You had made peace with it long ago, but every so often whenever he finds himself with an Illyrian nearby, he wishes you could have those wings back, even if for just a moment. To watch you glide in the air, the winds of Autumn that had pushed him so far holding you up.

Eris lit the candles in the room, dusk casting the room in darkness. Leif’s fingers gripped his collar tighter as he crouched down, failing to put him on the floor.

“Can you tell us a story?”

Atlas perked up at Leif’s sleepy voice, practically vibrating in excitement. “The one with the dragon, please daddy?”

Atlas clutched his hands together in pleading, bouncing up as Eris agreed. He knew what Leif’s question was for - the small boy didn’t want to be set down yet, too content in his father’s arms to be left alone. If only Beron were alive to watch him cave to the demands of toddlers - his heart would stop beating in anger.

Eris stood back up, all attempts of removing Leif forgotten as he moved to the rocking chair in the corner, sitting with Leif curled up to his chest just like he had done hundreds of times before. Atlas and Nyx followed, sitting right in front of Eris on the mattresses that lay across the floor. He rocked for a moment - both to gather his bearings, deciding where to start the story, and because the anticipation killed the little boys before him.

“A long, long time ago, there once lived a knight.”

“What’s his name?”

Atlas was quick to shush his cousin, annoyed at his interruption no matter how many times he had heard the story. Leif began tapping on Eris’s chest, wanting him to keep talking, the sound of his voice soothing.

“We’ll just call him the knight. The knight lived a long time ago in a kingdom that doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Why not?”

Eris had no idea where Nyx’s inquisitive nature came from - his father certainly didn’t look too hard at the world outside of his dim perspective. The boy probably spent too much time with Azriel - anytime the spymaster was seen by either of his kids, they both ran rampant with questions of “why” and “how”, partly because Azriel would answer every single one of their questions, and because in their presence, he would also ask why and how and who questions.

“You’ll find out.”

Nyx opened his mouth, but Atlas moved his hand over his cousin’s mouth. “Stop.”

Eris continued with his story. “The knight lived in a land ruled by an evil dragon. He breathed fire at anyone who dared try to overthrow him.”

Nyx’s eyes grew large, excitement filling them as Eris pretended to breathe out fire.

“He was a big, nasty beast. His fangs are the size of a door. He had big red scales that covered his entire body, shielding him.”

Maybe he began embellishing these stories a bit.

“The handsome knight-”

“When’d he become handsome?”

Atlas slapped his hand onto his forehead in aggravation and Eris had to bite his tongue from laughing. The little boy hardly ever stopped talking and to watch his frustrations at his cousin doing the same was very amusing.

“He was always handsome.”

Eris had slowly been telling Atlas and Leif stories of his life in a much more palatable manner. Replacing their grandfather with a dragon, making Amarantha a dragon, making Rhys an evil king who hated him. He’d never admit it to anyone, but it was quite fun.

In one story he made Lucien a donkey just because it amused him. Lucien had been less than thrilled at his fictional depictions, even going so far as to try to tell his own stories to the boys. They didn’t like Lucien’s storytelling, so much so they begged him not to tell any stories.

“The incredibly good looking knight decided he needed to make a plan to kill the dragon,” giggles accompanied his words. “The knight had one issue: he was in love with a princess from a different kingdom.”

Leif gasped as if this were a new story to him - he enjoyed all aspects of Eris’s stories, but Leif was always happiest to hear about the princess. Whether or not Leif knew the princess was his mother, Eris wasn’t sure.

“And her king wouldn’t let her live in the kingdom of the dragon.”

“Why not?”

“Because dragons love the taste of princesses!” Nyx shrieked a little, and for good measure he added, “and the taste of little boys.”

Eris enjoyed riling his brothers up when they were young - one of the traits the centuries haven’t worn down. Once they both stopped screaming, Eris continued his story.

“So, the knight began planning with the other knights of the kingdom. They spent months making a plan to get rid of the dragon. He was killing their crops, even eating some of the people, and hoarding all of the kingdom’s gold. No one had any money or food. They devised a plan and set a date to take down the dragon. On the night before, the knight slipped away to see his princess one last time, to catch a glimpse of her before going to battle.

“She was as beautiful as he remembered, their last meeting was months ago and he thought of it often. Her king didn’t approve of their relationship, but they met secretly without him knowing. She invited him up into her chambers, where he told her the plans for the next day. He wanted to say goodbye, wanted to see her one last time. He gave her a kiss farewell-” giggles filled the room. “And then the knight left once more. It was the hardest thing for him to do.”

“What was?”

“Saying goodbye to his princess.”

The boys were enraptured in the story, paying close attention to every word from Eris.

“Why?”

Atlas didn’t admonish Nyx for his question, wanting to know the answer himself.

“Because he loved her very much.”

He rubbed Leif’s back softly, rocking the chair gently as he continued.

“The knight left the princess’s tower, heading to find a secret weapon.” Nyx’s wings fluttered, the wind brushing over Eris and Leif. “He walked through the kingdom to find a special, magical sword. It had been hidden centuries before, waiting for the rightful person to come find it.”

Atlas pretended to wave a sword in his hand, making sounds that somewhat resembles clashing as he and Nyx pretended to be fighting with swords.

“The knight rode in on his horse, meeting the other knights as they rode in and fought the dragon head on.”

“Did the horses fight?”

“No, they stayed far away as the knights used their swords to pierce and stab the dragon over and over again, but he remained unharmed.”

Atlas and Nyx began acting out the story, Atlas grabbing a pillow and pretending it was the dragon.

“The dragon paid special attention to our knight, his teeth sharp as he kept scratching and biting the knight. He was injured, but he kept fighting on with his magical sword. The dragon hit him with his tail, causing the sword to go flying through the air.”

Eris’s voice rose and fell with the story, his words glossing over the atrocities of the day. He could not figure out a nice way to add in how their mother poisoned at minimum twenty-five of Beron’s closest advisors.

Their mouths were wide open now, desperate to know how the tale ends, Nyx allowing his inquisitive nature to take a backseat to Eris’s storytelling.

“The knight thought it would be over as the dragon snarled at him, opening his mouth so the knight could see his big, nasty teeth. He could even see some of the spinach he had eaten for dinner.”

The boys erupted in giggles, softs echoes of “ewwwww” littered the room.

“The knight had accepted his fate. He knew it was over, and all he could think about was how grateful he was he got to see his princess one last time. He had closed his eyes, preparing to die, but the dragon stopped breathing his nasty breath in the knight’s face.

“The dragon had turned, only to find one of the other knights, Sir Flint, had come from behind. He had picked up the magical sword and slashed the dragon’s neck!”

Tiny gasps came from his audience, but he continued to his favorite part of the story.

“Blood poured out of the dragon as he fell, his big body making a big thunk as he fell. Some say it even caused an earthquake because he was so heavy.”

Eris couldn’t tell them about the extent of Flint’s sacrifice - not yet anyway. But he would make sure they knew his name, even if he were merely a fairytale hero.

“Once the dragon was slain, the knight removed his armor to show that he was secretly a prince the whole time!”

The boys screeched in excitement, jumping up and searching for their swords to start fighting again, disappointed to remember they were left in the playroom. Once they settled back down, Eris continued.

“The other knights gave the prince a crown, making him king of the kingdom. His first act was to go find his princess and bring her to his kingdom, making her the queen.

“The end. Now, I think it’s time for bed.”

The boys groaned in protest, but complied. Grabbing their blankets and settling onto the beds all over the floor. Atlas and Nyx nestled in, hiding themselves amongst the blankets and pillows. Eris stood, Leif’s body having grown heavy with sleep, his steps careful to navigate the various pillows, trying to find a spot for his son.

Leif groaned at the stirring, but Eris was quick to hum softly, soothing something in Leif.

“What happened to the prince?” Nyx’s wings fluttered with anticipation, the blankets moving with his joy, wanting to know what happened to such a brave male.

Eris leaned in conspiratorially, the boys leaning into him as if he were going to tell them a secret.

“His kingdom is long gone, but he’s still alive. He wanders the lands of Prythian. He was last seen in Winter a few years ago. They say he hunts for little boys who stay up past their bedtimes.”

Their small shrieks made Eris want to laugh, but he kept a straight face despite himself. He looked to Leif, his youngest son much more susceptible to these tall tales, only to find him asleep once more. His eyes were closed, his round cheeks pressed into his chest making the freckles on his face scrunch together.

Atlas and Nyx had quickly thrown the blankets over themselves, their voices quiet telling the other to stop talking. He was able to find a spot for Leif next to Atlas, gently moving his head to a new pillow, draping a blanket over him.

“Good night.”

They echoed his sentiment, their voices muffled through the fabric of their blankets. Eris shut the door behind himself, listening to the two cousins bicker back and forth, their voices getting quieter as the dark lulled them to sleep. He started walking down the hallway, only to find Lucien walking his way. His brother changed his stride to walk with Eris, following him through the halls.

Eris and Lucien had agreed to keep the kids for the first night you were gone, and Rhysand would pick them up in the morning and keep them all day and night. His brother in law had been incredibly confident he could handle the three boys on his own, perhaps from some well-placed snark from Eris at how his one child was much different from two, let alone a third.

Eris didn’t have to manipulate people anymore, he could live as he wished to, showing whatever image of himself he wanted. But he’d be damned if he ever stopped tricking the High Lord of the Night Court for his own amusement.

“I was thinking about tomorrow.”

Eris hummed as Lucien spoke, the two moving toward Eris’s sitting room, both in desperate need of alcohol and to not have someone clinging to them.

“I heard from Nesta that Rhys was so smug he could handle the three boys by himself that Azriel and Cassian are going to some sporting event.”

“Hm, wonder where he’d get such ridiculous notions of himself, as if he had something to prove.”

Lucien’s laugh was barking, but he continued. “I think we should give the kids a bunch of sugar before they go to Night. It’ll drive Rhysand up a wall. He may never want to see your kids again, though.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Thanks for reading❣️

[notthecutesttrash]

From One To Another

Soulmate AU

Content: Chrollo Lucilfer is your soulmate. However, you know that he is a criminal and you reject him. You have a boyfriend to still prove love can be real outside the birthed bonds, but he’s just as bad.

Trigger warnings: 18+ Dark, lots of mentions of graphic abuse, slight smut towards the end, little nipple-play, language

Word count: 8.06k

As a child, it always meant the world to you that one day you would be fated to meet someone. Someone who was meant for you in every possible way. Maybe you’d argue, sure, that was apparent by being with your mother and father. Still, that person would be your all, your soul, your everything. 

You saved yourself for years, refusing any possible relationship even if you desperately wanted to be held, to be kissed, to be loved. You knew it would be worth it when you met him.

A man named Chrollo Lucilfer. 

And your heart shattered when one day you turned on the news and found his name printed on a bounty sheet for no small amount of Jenny. 

At first, you tried to believe with everything in your heart that it wasn't true. Your soulmate wouldn't be a criminal, not yours. Especially when it was claimed he was part of a group called the Phantom troupe that killed not only dozens but hundreds. It just made you sick thinking of it. 

Maybe he hadn’t killed anyone, it was only his group members. Maybe he was forced to be with them and they threatened him when he sought to escape. Maybe they only steal because they’re in desperate need of Jenny. Maybe.. just maybe he wasn’t evil. 

Tears poured out of you weeks after you found the news, just thinking of all that you had dreamed of as a child withering to dust. You would have no sweet and shy interaction, no beautiful story you would tell the table. No happy marriage, no children, no.. love. 

There were stories of people who have gone through similar experiences, survivors of terrible soulmates. Even if fate meant it to be, all weren't perfect, many were far from, some pure evil. There would be no balance without it. But why did it have to be yours? Why did you have to have the evil one? Because someone had to, right? But.. why? 

For all that you had avoided, you ended up in the same situation you had sworn not to be a part of, soulmate or not. Simply put, your boyfriend is a piece of shit. Why were you with him in the first place? You didn’t know. You believed it was to prove yourself and others wrong, that pure love between two fatefully unmatched people can work just the same. You were hopeless. 

You would never find love within someone else, and you would never with your soulmate. Even if he was the nicest person alive- you stopped yourself there and scoffed. So nice that he murders or even sits idly by as a bystander. Fat chance he was nice, one way or another they're all the same. 

You sit on the couch attempting to watch a movie, while your boyfriend ushers around all drunk and stupid. His hand grabs the handle of the fridge and slings it open, reaching for another beer. “Don’t you think that’s enough?” You catch his attention and he lifts himself to look at you, raising a brow. 

“What’d you say?” He has an edge to his voice, but you repeat as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I said. Don’t you think, that’s enough?” 

“And who are you to say? Fucking bitch.” He hiccups and slurs, “You’ll gladly have a glass or two with your friends, but I can’t have a few beers?” Arguing with him is useless. A glass or two does not equate to being outright drunk on a “few” beers that lay around the kitchen floor. Of course, all for you to clean up later. You shake your head to yourself, making sure he didn’t see. It’s been happening on repeat, and every night as you lay beside him, his hands all over you as he spoons your forcefully into him, you think, is this worth it? Maybe being with a criminal is better. Or really.. no one at all. 

But you couldn’t leave, he still loved you. Did you love him..? Or was this all a show to just have someone’s arms around you at night? He slumps on the couch, his arm pulling your shoulders so you can scoot even closer to him. Complying, your knee touches his own as you get close. He takes a swig of his beer and rests his feet on the coffee table. His socks alone smell like something died, and you say nothing as his breath full of beer comes into your space. His tongue licks up your neck and you wince. 

“Can you stop… I’m trying to watch this.” In reality, you weren’t watching, it was hard to. You were so focused on your surroundings, flinching at any little loud sound he made before he sat. 

“Ah come on, you know you love it.” You hated that cocky attitude, god you hated him, but he was right, it did cause a tingle in between your legs. He licks up to your ear again, even biting your earlobe. It was too hard and you yelp, pushing away instinctively. 

“Stop… I’m serious, please. I just want to watch this.” You gesture to the movie screen and turn to it completely. He hates being ignored. His hand grabs your chin harshly and he forces you to look at him, a glare zoning in on his eyes. 

“I want it.” He growls as if that was supposed to make you bow down to him. You wished you had the courage inside of you to shout, I don’t, but there was a clench in your throat. Before you knew it, you were on your back with him over you. His hand lifts your shirt to show your breasts, and his hand grabs you too hard again, and you hiss. 

“Stop-“ his hand covers your mouth, and he dives down to your neck, his lips attaching to your skin. You kick him in the groin, and he groans out, clutching himself. You take this moment to rush to put on your coat and shoes. 

Your voice begins shouting as it does almost every night, and every night you do the same thing, you grab your coat and shoes, and you threaten to leave, sometimes you even do, but it was rare he’d let you out the door. Then in the morning, you’d be all cozy together again, he’d grab your waist while you make him coffee, kissing your ear and giggling sweet nothings. 

“I’m done with this, I’m fucking out of here, I can’t take this anymore.“ You make sure to be as fast as possible, and you sling your bag around your shoulder and rush to leave. He’s on you in an instant, pulling your arm away from the doorknob forcefully. Suddenly you’re choked and slammed against the wall. 

“You’re not going anywhere, you got that?” His grip becomes tighter, and you raise your leg to do the same kick, but even in his drunken state, he’s able to grab it with his other hand. Still, he was weaker in this position and you push him off you with all your might. Again you turn to leave but you are swiftly pulled back by your hair. His fist was clenched tight around your strands, even ripping a few out as you screamed. 

A blow is landed at your stomach and you nearly hurl on the floor. He punches the side of your face, and your eyes are forced shut at the impact. It began twitching and you were sure that would leave a black eye. You’re shoved to the floor and his hands grab your arms, his body over you again. “Get away from me!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, flailing around. You were sure the neighbors heard, but they never did anything about it.  

“Don’t touch me!!” 

His fingers began toying with you, slurring mumbles as he tiredly kissed your neck. Again you manage to jab your knee into his stomach and as he recoils you run to the bathroom, slamming it shut and locking the door. Tears fell from your face as you held your throbbing head, ears ringing at the blow. The door shook as he pounded on it, screaming your name and shouting at you to open up or else. “Open the fucking door (Y/n), open it! Open the fucking door!” 

“I swear to god if you don’t open up right now-“ You cradled yourself in the bathtub, closing your ears from it all until it became nothing but mumbles. Flinching at every time he pounded, you continued crying. You were terrified the hinges would fly off, the door would be broken down, and you would have no protection whatsoever. ‘I can’t do this, I can’t do this anymore.’ 

Eventually, it would pass, as it always did. He’d pass out somewhere, whether it be the floor, the couch, the bed, wherever, and you’d be scared to remove yourself from the safety of the bathroom, for fear he would wake up and kill you.

You slept in the bathtub and woke up with a pain in your head, eyes dizzy to the flickering light that stayed on. Groggily you grabbed onto the rim of the tub and attempted to pull your shaky sore legs out. When you saw yourself in the mirror, you assumed right. There was a big purplish black bruise around your eye, even a red hand mark around your neck. You pulled your pants down to find a few bruises on your legs. Probably from falling, or maybe these were from the other days, you don’t remember.  

You couldn’t take this anymore. 

But you couldn’t leave. You had your life here, but most of all, you hated to restart, to find someone all over again, you wouldn’t be able to do it. So you felt hopeless as you splashed water on your face and cleaned yourself. You pulled out your makeup palette used only for covering bruises. When you opened it the area surrounding the center was sunken in, and metal showed up as holes in your foundation. You were running out, you needed to get a new one soon.

Grabbing your sponge, you pressed it gently into your eye, wincing at the pain. You needed to get ready for work because someone had to pay the bills around here. Next was your neck, and after that, you looked normal again, perfectly robust and healthy. Opening the door, a weight slid off and thudded onto the ground, your boyfriend’s head. He was passed out, snoring, hands sprawled out on the floor. You simply sidestepped in the gaps of his body to walk around him. You couldn’t care to brush out your messy hair, and you were sure most of the shedding was a fault of him yanking it too hard. Better not to let anyone see your scalp anyway. 

You slung your bag over your shoulder as your stomach rumbled. Was there enough time to get some breakfast before you headed to work? You checked your phone. You were a bit on the early side so that was a yes. Besides, it’d be nice to eat alone and get a new atmosphere besides beer cans that littered the ground. And at least the coffee shop wouldn’t smell like barf. 

You shut your door to see the woman at the apartment next to you, grabbing her keys to lock her door behind her. She gave you a look, and you walked passed her to the stairs. “(Y/n) right?” She suddenly spoke, and you turned to her. A nervous expression was on her face, and she pursed her lips, staring down. “Listen… I’m sorry- my husband told me to not get involved.. but.. are you okay?” A spike of defensive anger got to you, but for the most part, it was mixed with shame, a pathetic embarrassment filled you. Was this really what you chose? A life that your neighbors have to feel scared for you and ask if you're okay?

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry.” You fake smiled and waved. “I hope you have a good day.” When you walked down the stairs it fell. Attributes of working in customer service. A sigh left you as the brisk air hit you, and you walked to your destination. You couldn’t afford a car, but it was fine, everything was close anyway. 

At work today you were in charge of helping the new trainee. A nice guy it looked like, someone who was awkward and didn’t want to make anyone go through a hassle for him. You wished you at least had a guy like that. “Press this if you want to open the register. The system here will tell you how much to give them, fairly simple right?” He nodded, and you assorted through all the cash. It wasn’t a hard job, and you didn’t really care or not if someone was over your shoulder watching. Anything was better than home. 

The door dinged as someone entered. An enthusiastic woman greeted you. 

“Good morning! How can I help you today?” 

“Hi, can I just have a small black coffee and um.. hm.. a grilled cheese I suppose.” She smiled and you nodded, politely returning the gesture. She handed you the jenny and you looked over your shoulder to show the trainee what exactly to do. How to ring up a specific or basic order. You had him bring up the option so he could show her the amount due. The woman waited patiently, smiling, and he was nervous, cheeks flushed as he struggled to find the grilled cheese. You eventually pointed it out to him, tapping above it as if to give him a gentle hint. 

“Sorry about that,” he spoke politely once he finally rang it up. 

“Don’t worry, I’m in no rush.” She smiled prettily and removed her wallet from her purse. After handing in the exact amount, you placed it in the register and closed it. Easy enough. 

“You’re all set, it should be out in about 5 minutes.” She nodded and waited on the side where the finished orders were placed. 

You begin speaking to your coworker again, explaining all the sorts of foods or combinations you can order, and how they have to be specifically rung up to be recognized in the system. “Let’s say if someone wants a salad, but no tomatoes, simple, you just go here, then here, press customizations, and remove the option. Either press on the picture or the word “TMTS” you following?” The man nods, even though confused, he is determined, and so you let him take the reins. 

“Whenever you need any assistance just let me know, i’ll be helping out with the food while Marley does the drinks, okay?” 

“O-okay,” he stutters as he tries to adjust. 

“Have a nice day!” The woman calls out, walking off with her items. You smile and respond in kind, inwardly sighing. 

The door rings, and you’re too busy prepping the table to see who walks in. You just hoped they would go easy on the trainee. 

“Is this really necessary?” One had a deep voice, and he was very tall and muscular, you could see that from just your peripheral vision alone. 

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out, are you kidding me? We were running extra rounds until 3 am.” You couldn’t see how the others looked as they were directly behind you, but it didn’t matter anyway. 

“Hello, how can I help you guys today?” The trainee spoke, nervous but outwardly confident, face masked with a smile. You hummed in approval, that’s a good step.

“Let me get a- hm… what is that, a BLT?” One of the men asked, pointing to the menu, eyes squinting. 

The trainee turned and nodded. “Yes.” 

“Alright, lemme have one of those, you want anything?” Assumedly he makes a gesture to the others around him, however many they were. The price rings up after a few moments of him slowly looking up the name. 

“Sheesh that’s a bit of Jenny for just a sandwich don’t you think?” You sighed, this time a little more audibly, but not enough for anyone to hear. You already knew how this was going to go.

“Got any beers here?”  

“Um…” The trainee panics a little, looking for the name on the screen. He doesn’t see it, but before making a definite answer, he looks at the menu himself. But before he can say “no” the other man scoffs. 

“What, you don’t know if you got it or not? Dont’cha work here?” 

Glancing at the register, he gives you a nervous expression as if hoping you’d save him. You pull away from the prepping area and gesture over your shoulder, signaling for him to swap places. You’ll deal with it for now.  

“Don’t worry about it,” You say to him more than anything as he walks away a little defeated. 

“Okay, what can I help you guys with?” You speak a little more firmly this time, but your fake smile remains. It was a group of 3, one large buff fuzzy man, one blondie with a furrowed expression, and a monotone man with slicked-back hair and grey eyes. It was a strange group you admitted, but you tried not to be rude and stare. The tall guy spoke his specifically long order which was more than a few sandwiches, while the other had a combo, and the one in the coat only wanted a tea. You were glad you took on this group, no doubt they would be shouting slurs at the second mess-up and making the poor guy sputter apologies only half a minute in.

“Is that all I can do for you guys today?” They answered no, and you smiled as you stated their total. They pulled out their wallets and when the one with black hair angled his wrist towards you, money in hand, your fingers instinctively reached over to grab it. That was until you saw the name on his wrist, and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes went wide. (Y/n) (L/n). No, this couldn’t be. It wasn’t real. 

“Is something wrong?” He tilted his head after a long pause, and you inhaled sharply, swiftly grabbing the jenny. The other two gave each other a sort of look, brows raised as they handed you the rest. The one in front of you, the one who was supposed to be your soulmate didn’t say anything, nor did he have a reaction, his face remained the same, and you were sure because of that he didn’t notice anything wrong. 

Besides, even if you knew it was him, he wouldn’t know it was you. You tried to reassure yourself. Your wrist was covered in wraps. They’d never know, so you can’t seem suspicious, not now.

“No, I’m so sorry about that.” Clearing your throat, you quickly arranged the register and handed the change off. “Your orders will be ready in 10-15 minutes or so, okay?” The tall man grumbled, and you gestured faster than ever for the trainee to switch back with you while you nearly hyperventilated making stupid fucking sandwiches. All the while you could feel their stare burning in your back. 

“Are you okay?” Marley then asks and you nod. All you had to do was relax. You’re used to having to lie about this, so it’s no big deal.

But why does this time seem ten times harder than usual? 

“Yeah, of course.” He looks at you in a way as if he knows you’re lying but shrugs it off. You place the order on the counter for them to pick it up, attempting to make zero eye contact as they come close. You meet his gaze, those grey orbs that fixate on you calmly. You almost stare a little too long, before you clear your throat again and push forward the food for them to take. Once they did, that was it, they would walk out just like that and you wouldn’t see them ever again. Your soulmate is officially gone. 

But what if that wasn't the case?

Quelling the anxiety, you nervously trail their steps as they start to walk out of the shop. And when they finally do, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. 

When you clocked out, exhaustion burned into your temples. Thinking of going home to speak to your boyfriend already set you in a horrible mood. There was a chance he was in a good one, but still, you’d have to deal with the fact that you just met your soulmate after all these years of being with your boyfriend. Whether he was a murderer, a criminal, or not.. that man was fatefully supposed to be with you instead.. and truthfully it hurt a little in your chest. But maybe it was for good, again, he was not a good guy, and if you did get together, it probably wouldn’t be all that different from your current situation. Try to be realistic, you told yourself. Just because the word soulmate is slapped onto someone, it doesn’t mean it’s all fairytale love. 

You just needed time to breathe, just a little. Maybe you’d regret it, but right now, you needed it. You made sure to take your time walking home, even getting yourself a little snack from the bakery and eating there while you contemplated. Forty minutes passed, and then you made it home. You paused at the doorway, your hands lingering above the doorknob a little too long. Inhaling, you rotated it and entered. 

Your boyfriend’s voice rang out, not at all happy. “Where were you?” Good news at least, he wasn’t drunk, but did that really matter? There was a time when you thought it did, but not anymore. 

“I just went to get something at the bakery. Look.” You pulled out a cute little pink-wrapped box that revealed a muffin inside. You didn’t want to buy it. But you knew you would need to show proof. Still, even then it would amount to nothing. 

“Bakery hm? With your new boyfriend huh?” With the stress you had today of meeting someone you never thought to, this struck a nerve more than it had ever. You were not at all in the mood. 

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, okay?” Your tone was firm, and you removed your jacket, stomping off into your room. Unfortunately, it was his too, and you could get no privacy as he didn’t even let the door close to follow you in. 

“Why huh? Cause it’s true? I knew you would fucking cheat, you’re a dirty whore.” He continued on a bout of slurs, gesturing to you angrily and even poking you in your chest. All you wanted to just do was lie down and calm the overstimulation in your mind. Why was it so fucking hard.. to just relax? Breathing becoming heavy, you were struggling more and more to calm down. The anger was getting to you. You were so sick of this you could scream. 

Your hands shook from the adrenaline as you set your bag down, removing your scarf, and other work accessories. Your headache was pounding the more he raised his voice. Suddenly his hand touched your shoulder with a hard grip, and every bit of restraint you had exploded. 

 “I JUST DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH THIS RIGHT NOW OKAY?! JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” You rushed off into another room, slamming the door behind you. He followed, shouting threats and slurs, and you picked up the nearest object you could, a beer can, a shoe, whatever it was, and repeatedly threw. It wasn’t with much force, but you just hoped the amount of items could deter him. A fury only doubled in his eyes as he ran after you. 

He was screaming, threatening to kill you, harm you, do whatever if you did not make your way back that instant. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t do it anymore. “I HATE YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE!” You shouted at the top of your lungs. 

It was only so big of an apartment, and eventually, he made his way to you. With not much force, you kicked him in the stomach. He recoiled by punching your cheek hard, but not enough to make you collapse. You screamed as he threatened to kill you again, “GET AWAY FROM ME!” You kicked him and threw just about anything that you had, and shoved him in his chest hard when he tried to get near you as you attempted to run to the bathroom. 

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” He shouted. This time you were sure he was serious. He grabbed a kitchen knife from the block and held it threateningly towards you. 

Gasping in fear, your tone changed to barely above a whisper, shaky but with a hard attempt to be firm. “Get the fuck away from me… I’m serious, don’t.. don’t fucking touch me, get away, or I’m calling the police.”  

“Yeah, and how are you going to do that?” He taunted, knowing well that your phone was in the bedroom, just where he was blocking. Swallowing harshly, you remained still, unsure of your next move, scared if you ran he might just swiftly catch up and pierce you. 

“I wasn’t cheating, I just needed a moment to myself, all I did was go to the bakery, okay?” You tried to patiently reason, even if you secretly knew it wouldn’t do anything. He scoffed. 

“Yeah? Tell that to all your other fucking boyfriends, piece of shit.” He gestured to you with the knife in hand, and suddenly dove. You ran for the bathroom as quickly as you could, but this time he knew what you were planning. Suddenly you met with the floor, your head slamming and bouncing against the hard tiles. Scramming to your feet, he kicked your leg hard and shoved your head down so you would meet the tiles again. This time you heard a crack and felt warm liquid rushing down the back of your head. 

You began thrashing and screaming at the top of your lungs when he neared. “SOMEBODY HELP ME! HELP ME!” Disoriented, he choked you hard enough to stop all cries, so hard you had no doubt he would truly kill you this time. Your mouth opened to get a breath, but nothing would come. Your hands were struggling to get him off of you. 

 “You useless bitch- what are you good for? Nothing-“ 

“I think I heard enough.” A sudden voice interrupted, lessening the hold of the man atop of you. It being enough to make you breathe, you gulped the air instantly. It was silent for a moment before your boyfriend cussed out. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Who the fuck are you? And how did you get in my goddamn apartment?” 

The weight over you vanished, and you didn’t care what happened, who, when, or where, you ran. Slamming the bathroom door shut and locking the door, you cradled yourself in the tub, the lights off as you shuddered silently. It was quiet at first, so quiet, something you weren’t used to save for the ringing in your ears. Blood droplets fell at the back of your neck and when you touched it, tears formed. Why would you do this? Why would this happen? 

You heard your boyfriend screaming violently, a scream you never ever heard him make. It was as if his life depended on it. Something in you felt horrified, guilty, and scared, but you didn’t want to go out, you couldn’t. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t know what was happening if he was just making an act, or if he was coming towards you. But you wouldn’t open the door, not until he fell asleep. Then you could leave, this time forever. You didn’t care anymore. Tears fell in silent streams for a few seconds, then they became so strong you sobbed violently. 

“What the hell- what the hell is that?!” Your boyfriend shouted nonsense at whatever it was. He’s delusional, he’s gone insane, it’s over for you. 

Eventually, all stilled, it became quiet again. You were whimpering in your hands, hiccuping, body shaking uncontrollably. You heard the lock click as it shifted, and a slow creak as the door opened. He had found a way in, he was going to kill you, and you were cornered. You kept your eyes covered, terrified, sobs shifting into screams as you heard the footsteps. They were slow, step by step. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want to die. Step. He was in front of you now, if you opened your eyes, he would be there just above you, a knife in his hands, a horrible glint in his eye as he stabbed you lifeless. 

But what you did not expect was the man to coo at you, to ease your cries.

“Sh…” you flinch as a hand rubs at your head, patting kindly away at your gnawing migraine. Your boyfriend wasn’t usually this sweet, you were sure any second now he’d be pulling at your hair and gesturing the knife to your throat. But it didn’t come. 

When your body finally stops rampantly shaking, and your sobs are almost quelled, you lift your head only slightly, enough to peek through your fingers. Although it was dark, and your eyes took a bit to adjust, you noticed that wasn’t what your boyfriend would wear. But the clothing.. did somehow look familiar. 

Your hand slowly fell to look at the figure above you. When your eyes meet, a different type of ice-cold fear strikes you. Grey emotionless eyes that even you could see in the darkness. Or well, you couldn’t say emotionless, they did look.. a bit… dark actually.. and scary. He didn’t furrow his brows like a normal person, nor did his eyes widen, but you couldn’t explain the terrifying look he had in them. They softened instantly to a neutral state and you gawked confusedly.  

What could you say? 

What are you doing here? Who are you? (even if you knew the answer to that). How did you find me? Hello. 

Your bottom lip trailed into your teeth, tears still streaming. You looked pathetic. Surely all your cries washed away the makeup, allowing him to see the bruises that littered your face. Who could ever love you like this? Not even a criminal. 

“I’m going to take care of you now.” Your soulmate spoke, and as much as it maybe should’ve calmed you, (maybe if your soulmate was anyone else), it only caused further crying. Then you paused, remembering. 

“Wh-What did y-you do to him?” 

He tilts his head. “You worry for him?” 

You nod slowly. 

He hums and walks over to the light switch, flicking it on. Recoiling, you rush to hide yourself, squinting at the light that now buzzes above you. “Perhaps you should look at yourself more clearly.” 

Your legs were still covered in bruises, blood was dripping down your neck slowly, falling beneath your shirt, and your eyes were wincing in pain. But yet you still worried for him. 

You gazed at his wrist, feint black words that you couldn’t see because of your dizzy eyesight. You just wanted someone so bad you would settle for anything. He was right. Still, how could your conscience take someone’s death or pain on your behalf? 

You shook your head, shaking the disposition of your thoughts. Your breath hitched when he reached his palm out to you, and there you could see it again. Your name across his wrist in fine black ink. “How.. how did you know it was me? I-I had it covered.” 

“Your reaction was obvious. Plus, your name.” You were confused, your name? No one had- oh. Just before they walked out the door the trainee called out your name, requesting further help on the machine. 

But you guessed it didn’t matter anymore. You whispered pathetically, your eyes meeting his again. “Are you going to kill me?” 

“No. You’re my soulmate. We belong together, I will give you all you want from here on.” You couldn’t help but scoff. He was a murderer, a criminal. His hand touched your cheek to turn you towards him. You recoiled fearfully, pushing away from his touch. Upon looking closer at your black eye you felt his tone shift, even if his demeanor didn’t show it. 

“I wouldn’t let anyone touch you like this again, you can have my word.” 

You don't even know why you tried to reason with a murderer. But you were desperate. 

“Promise?” Your weak voice muttered out. 

“I do.”

You nod and take his hand. He pulls you to your feet effortlessly, even if your legs wobble and ring out in pain. You hissed quietly as you stepped out of the tub. Your legs were sore and stiff, and your head throbbed. You were beginning to get dizzy and you could feel the nausea coming to your throat quickly. Covering your mouth, you rushed to your knees at the front of the toilet and vomited to your heart’s content. Everything you had this day went down the dump. Tears streamed down your cheeks again. You bit your lip, your hands still bracing the sides of the toilet, your heart pacing wildly. You looked to your soulmate.. to Chrollo Lucilfer, and you bit your lip.

“You won’t hurt me?” He took a moment to respond which worried you. 

“Intentionally, no. I will not.” That didn’t really help, but I guess if that meant he wouldn’t try to stab you in the middle of the night, it would suffice. You did believe his words, but still, something seemed amiss. Maybe it meant, no, unless you try to escape and tell on me to the cops. 

“Come.” He took his hand out to you again.

“Where are we going?”

“Your new home. You’re going to live with me, and you won’t have to work from now on.” Those words made you fearful until he kept going. “I’ll provide for you.” A flutter warmed your heart. Someone who would provide for you… someone who would finally take care of you instead. That made you happy. 

You lifted yourself, and he stepped to the side so you could wash yourself at the sink. It was an even more pathetic sight than last night. Blood was dripping down the side of your head, and it hurt to the touch. Still, you washed it away and began getting out your palette so you could cover up the wounds. 

“What are you doing?” Chrollo asked, and you turned to him, confused. 

“Well.." Pausing for a few seconds, you continued. "I have to look presentable. If people saw me walking with you... with a bruised eye, they’ll assume you hurt me.. and.. well..” you didn't continue that, but you assumed he knew where that was going. 

A swirl of darkness rushed to his eyes as his lips curled slightly into a smile, albeit it was horrifying. “I wouldn’t worry. If anyone dares take you from me then-“

“Stop. Please. Just stop.. I don’t want you to hurt anyone.. please… Just.. let me cover myself up.. just for today.. then when I go with you, I will rest up and heal.. okay? Please..” he let out a small exhale and you hold your breath.  

Criminal, abusive, or not, would he ditch you? Toss you to the side when he sees how much you could not stand needless murder or crime? Would you be alone again, with no soulmate, not even a boyfriend now? 

His tone was calm, “I understand. Clean up, I’ll be waiting.” It drew you out of your fixation, and you nervously nodded as he walked out of the bathroom and closed the door after him. As much as you’d love to take a peaceful shower once and for all, you knew he would be waiting, probably upset if you took too long. You ran warm water over your neck and pulled the bloody-stained shirt over your head. Luckily you had enough spare clothes in the bathroom drawers, considering it was like your separate room. 

You repeated the same action from this morning, pressing the makeup to your bruised eye, your neck, the back of your neck, and your throat. 

You would be happy now, right? Was this the last time you’d do this? 

Exhaling a sigh, you put on a clean shirt and left. “I’m ready..” you held your breath, eyes glued to the floor. You expected to be hit, or even see your bloody boyfriend beat up on the floor, passed out. But he wasn’t there in the living room. Weird, you thought. 

Chrollo had his elbows against his knees, and he lifted his head to look at you. “Any last valuables you need to take?” 

Your clothes maybe, but the thought made you uncomfortable. Maybe you should just start over new, remove anything from the present .. but you would have to buy back everything, and with what money? You definitely weren’t using his. You just met him. And now that you think of it, he still kind of broke into your place. 

“Um..” you awkwardly stood, staring at him. You opened your mouth to speak but shut it. “N-No.. it’s okay.. we can go now.” 

“Don't worry about small items, I will let you buy everything you need." 

He walked to your front door, and you stilled. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Walking off with a man you just met, soulmate or not, away from the place you lived for years with your boyfriend who was probably beaten to a pulp.. somewhere.. maybe in the bedroom.  

When your foot stepped on the line between the hallway and your apartment, you turned back, worrying. But what if he was okay? You should go back and at least say you’re fine, and that it was going to be okay and apologize.  

“You won’t miss it much longer,” Chrollo stated, and you turned to him, frowning. 

“Can I at least say bye to him?” Chrollo tilts his head at your request, a sudden glimmer in his eye. 

“No. I’m afraid that’s not an option.” You pouted, head lowering at his tone. Maybe it was for the best, he surely only had your best interest at heart. Maybe if you had said bye it would only make you feel guiltier. 

“Okay.. let’s go.” 

He still had that dangerous gleam in him as you walked out of the complex. Though you admitted you felt safer with him than you had with anyone else so far. You didn’t know how he did it, you didn’t know how he broke into your room, how he fended off your abuser, or how he looked perfectly fine. But he rescued you. 

“Is.. is all that really true?” Chrollo turned to you, grey piercing eyes fixating on yours. “That you’re with a group… called the phantom troupe.. that you have killed people… and stolen things?“ 

“Yes, it is.” Your head lowered at the confirmation. Something in you was just hoping it wasn’t, just that little twinge of hope.  

“Do you plan on turning me in?” He asked, unworried. You’d assume someone who had such a big bounty on them would be terrified of getting caught any second. Yet he was surprisingly easygoing. He didn’t believe for a second you could take him on alone and bring him in for a prize, and he was right. 

“No… you’ll probably just kill me if I try..” 

“You misunderstand. You are my soulmate, we are meant to be together. I will not kill you, nor will I ever try. Only if you attempt to run, or act irrationally then I will have no choice but to punish you or anyone else involved. And just be aware, I will not give mercy to others.” 

A sigh leaves you. You guessed that was fair. “What will you do to them?” You secretly knew the result, but you gulped nervously, afraid he would confirm it.

He side-eyes you as he continues walking, and you’re staring, impatiently waiting for him to answer. “Do I need to say something you already know?” 

You shake your head with a frown. It became quiet.

You had lived in a busy city-like area. However, the further you walked, the less that people were now nearby. Lights were flickering, if there were any at all. These new crowds of people looked different, dirty, rude, and suspiciously quiet. 

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t scared when the alleyways looked like where someone would get murdered and not found for days. For all you knew, you just walked into another killer’s arms, and these were your last moments. 

It was cold, and tears were pricking your eyes from the wind. The one time you forget your jacket. You hadn’t forgotten any other time you stormed out in a fuss, but the one time you had a moment to think, you would forget it. 

Chrollo’s hand touches your shoulder and pulls you into him. “It’s good not to get hypothermia out here.” He smiles, and you blush. You were sure it was just an excuse to get you closer, but you supposed that was what the smile was for. It was genuine at least.. yet the more and more he leads you on, you are certain he might just kill you. Buildings around you were becoming more and more absent, and less and less stable. 

He was quite warm.. for someone with no shirt underneath a coat. Somehow you faintly relaxed into his arm. That was until Chrollo stopped in front of a building, and turned to you. This was it, your time came. 

“I’m not going to kill you.” He spoke as if reading your thoughts. You nodded nervously. 

You wondered if maybe you just had a normal relationship from the beginning you would never continuously fear death in this way. 

It was nice in actuality, his place, even if the outside was disguised as a piece of junk. You supposed this might’ve been the sort of man to not care about looks. But the moment you stepped into the room, he had all sorts of trinkets around that made you nervous. Red eyes floating in a jar, paintings, weapons on display, and whatnot. What if you became one of his collections? The thought made a chill run down your spine. 

It was a bit unsettling here, yet admittedly… something about him felt safe. You should know more than anyone how you cannot trust anyone with a sweet facade. But you had a feeling deep down, that this would be okay. The bedroom was nice, perfect actually, it even had a bathroom connected to it, and it was hard for you not to be happy at the change of scenery. Maybe this wouldn’t be your forever home, but you could enjoy it for now. 

“Wipe the makeup off your face.” There was a certain demand in his tone, and your heart swiftly picked up in pace. 

“You need rest,” Chrollo gently reasoned after, cutting the awkward silence. 

Your heart quickly calmed in relief.  "O-Okay.." 

The only sound in the area was the warm water pouring from the faucet. All this silence was nice, you could get used to this sort of peace. 

Circling slowly, the makeup ran down your face in streams, revealing that purplish color around your eye. Next was your neck which showed red handprints. This was never fun doing.

Flicking the light off, you strolled back to the room when you were done. Finding only Chrollo’s coat that was lying on the edge of the bed, until you then found him at the corner, sitting. His elbows were against his knees, hands intertwined with one another.. completely shirtless. You spun instantaneously, squeaking at the sight. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” 

“I hope I don’t need to remind you again that we are soulmates. They do sleep together, do they not?” Even with his neverending patience, you feel you could strike a nerve at any moment. Maybe it was sudden, sure. But he was right, you two were fated, there was no shame in looking at just his bare chest. 

you muttered shyly. “They do..”

Chrollo steps behind you, rubbing his palm at your neck. Somehow you didn’t flinch, or feel pain, instead, it felt.. nice. A warm pair of lips kissed at your side, and your stomach fluttered, “And they have sex with one another, don’t they?” He nearly whispered in your ear. You nodded, whimpering at his touch. Your shirt lifted above your chest, bra expertly unclasped so he could squeeze your nipple with his fingers. His tongue trailed up your neck, and he squeezed around your breast again. This felt better than what your past boyfriend could’ve ever done. 

“Hm?” Chrollo mused, waiting for you to answer as he squeezed your nipple again. You moan at the tug.

“Y-Yes..” 

“As I thought.” He pulls away, and you whimper. He almost smirks, pulling the sheets to the side. 

Cheeks flushed, you let out a shaky exhale as you turn your head over your shoulder to look at him. Your hands were lingering at your shirt as if caught between a decision to take it off or not. 

“I wouldn’t think so hard. Eventually I’ll get to know every little crevice of your body, every little part that makes you scream, tick, or cry. Nothing will be kept from me.” Chrollo speaks calmly, yet possessively, with a certain knowing edge in his voice. 

“They’re not..” You pause, breathing out. You throw your shirt over your head and take off your bra so that it falls at your feet. You undo your pants slowly, feeling his eyes on your bruised body. You left your panties on.. because you at least needed that little bit of dignity before you revealed yourself fully to a man you just met.

“They’re not.. covered..” You rotate to him, arms covering your bare chest, eyes to the ground, ashamed. 

Again, there was that glint in his eye. Something malicious, something dreadful.

It was pathetic, but seeing this look in him, made it feel real. You were protected now, he would kill anyone in your wake, and maybe it was awful, but it comforted you.

He moved closer to you and you instinctively tilted your head in a way so that he could not easily see. There was no makeup or shirt to protect you anymore. His two fingers lifted your jaw so he could study the marked skin. Handprints that only should’ve been imprinted on you by his own. 

“Look at me.” 

You timidly blinked up at him, a warm flow of shame spilling in you as you whispered, “I’m sorry." Tears threatened your lids, and you pursed your lips. 

Why were you apologizing? What for? Were you afraid he didn’t like you? Or that maybe he was ashamed of you? He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. 

“Everything will be handled. Do you understand that?” 

Although you were fearful at that sentence and unsure what that could mean for all the other poor unfortunate souls out there, you nodded. You were safe. He would protect you now.. everything was going to be okay.. everything was going to be just how you wanted it to be. You could finally be happy now. 

His lips captured yours in a deep kiss. It took only a moment before it became a pleasant exchange between two tongues. His tongue captured yours easily, and you moaned into the kiss as his hands caught your breast again. 

You were shoved onto your back against the mattress, but it was soft, softer than you’d ever felt. Chrollo pulled away leaving you a breathless mess. The scattering bruises came to his attention again, and he nearly ripped your underwear in two. He dove down to lick at your fragile skin, suckling high at your neck. You whimpered, legs surrounding his waist as you felt him poke at your entrance. 

He would show everyone who your body belonged to, whether you liked it or not. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Seems we have Time on our Hands.

🐦‍⬛ Yup, I'm throwing another cat at you, Miss Raven. Deal with it. 📚

Above All, Self Control.

"Ms. Crowley, might I have a word with you? It will take but a moment of your time.”

Raven froze at her desk. the books she had been shuffling almost slipping from her grasp. She found her Magic History professor’s gaze, a piercing grey, on her. He stroked the fat cat cradled in his arms with one hand—and that, paired with the stern composition of his face, and the time that had carved folds into it, made him appear like a comedically evil villain from a spy film.

Raven gulped. “Yes.”

"Uh-oh," a mob student snickered in passing. "Looks like the teacher's pet is getting busted."

She shot them a glare as they ducked out of the classroom, followed by a stream of other students. Most of them were no friends to her—she didn’t know expect them to look back, to wait on her. The door unceremoniously slammed shut after the last boy had left, as if condemning her to solitude with the warden thar kept them jailed in lecture.

She stood and made her way over to Trein’s desk, but stopped several paces from it. Raven carefully eyed the feline comfortably sat in her instructor’s arms.

She had seen the cat videos online. From this distance… he shouldn’t be able to pounce on me.

Trein cleared his throat. "Would you care to come closer? I do not wish to raise my voice.”

“S-Sorry, Professor Trein,” she stuttered. “I don’t think I can.”

The older man sighed. “This is what I wanted to discuss. I have noticed this since the beginning of the school year.” He indicated the large gap of space between him and her. “Is there a reason for it? And if so, how may I correct it? The last thing I would want is for my students dread my presence.“

“Eh?!” Raven flushed with shame. Her eyes darted from Trein to Lucius. “I-It’s not you, sir. It’s… well, um… b-being a bird and all, there are certain instincts that are difficult to override… and cats being the natural predator to birds is..."

“I understand. Dear me, it sounds as though my Lucius is making you feel this way.”

“Mrrow? Meow meow meow..” ("Who, me? I wouldn't hurt a fly.") Lucius tilted his head up at his name, ears twitching. Raven jolted back, as if struck by a slap. His contractor kept a firm hand on Lucius’s back, pinning him in place.

“This is quite the conundrum,” Trein mused. “I worry this could impede your studies. More importantly, I would never wish to bring distress or discomfort to those under my instruction. Then there is a personal concern."

"What would that be, sir?"

"You won't be able to fully appreciate Lucius's appeal." This, Trein stated with a face so straight, a tone so serious, it threw Raven off guard. "This won't do. It must be corrected at once for the sake of your academic success."

"C-Corrected?! And just how do you intend to achieve such a thing, Professor...?" Her stomach tightened into a hard knot.

"Exposure therapy. Have you heard of it?" Trein held Lucius up, fingers tucked under his familiar's front legs, exposing his furry belly and swaying tail. Lucius blinked lazily at Raven. "We will start small and take gradual steps to have you become more accustomed to the presence of cats. I will consider it a milestone if we are able to reach the point at which Lucius can sit in your lap and you can pet him without feeling apprehensive."

"Huh?! L-Lucius-san... in my lap?! Me, petting him?!" Raven paled on the spot. "I-I do admit that it would be best if I learned to overcome this, but... Don't you think it's asking too much of me to... touch Lucius-san in such an intimate way? Wh-What if he bites or scratches me?!"

“Myyyeow!! Meow mrow…!” (“I take offense to that. I’m not a savage…!”)

"He won't, I guarantee it. My Lucius is a very good, very well-behaved boy--and, moreover, he's excellent with children." Trein smiled fondly. "Aren't you, Lucius? You'll help Ms. Crowley, won't you?"

"Mrrowwww." ("I'm not opposed to getting more head pats.")

"There, you see? Lucius is willing to do all that he can to assist you. If you still have your doubts, I will of course be present to supervise and assuage your worries. The sooner we nip this in the bud, the better--lest it snowball into bigger issues down the road."

"Nngh..."

I can't argue with him here... He's completely right! If I don't face this now, then when will I? I'll only keep putting it off, letting that fear fester. I should stop making excuses and take the plunge while this opportunity is still avaliable!

Raven took a deep breath. "... I see the value in these teachings. Very well, I'll be under your tutelage for the time being.”

"That's the spirit. I think I speak for Lucius too when I say we look forward to working with you, Ms. Crowley."

Lucius produced a low purr, sounding like the gentle rumble of an engine starting. Raven flinched, but managed to keep from backing further away.

“I look forward to working with you too…! Please be kind to me, Professor Trein and Lucius-san!"

“Meow mrow.” (“I’ll be as nice as I feel like being, kid.”)

[avayarising]

Deaths of Cassandra Cain

Part of the Batfam Death Project.

Cass has two very definite deaths and one implied death. She also spent several days in the Spirit World. Total time dead: up to a couple of days, plus Spirit World time.

Verifiable deaths

1. Beaten in the chest by Lady Shiva (Batgirl 1:25, 2002)

Cass asked Lady Shiva (her mother, though at this point she didn’t know that) to train her because she was losing her ability to read body language. Shiva agreed, but in return asked for Cass to come back in a year and duel her to the death. Cass agreed to this. When the time came, they fought on a rooftop, and Shiva quickly killed Cass with what looks like a pre-cordial thump.

Cass was raised to life again by Lady Shiva some unspecified time later through some unspecified technique (though she did say she had prepared for years to be able to do it) involving punching her in the chest again.

Time dead: Unclear, but probably of the order of hours. Since the location where Cass was resurrected was not where she died, Shiva must have had to move her corpse, so probably at least a few hours, plus however long it took for Shiva to do whatever she did to resurrect Cass.

2. Took a sword for someone else (Batgirl 1:72–73, April 2006)

So before Cass was born. David Cain made other attempts at creating the Perfect Warrior, and he started out by taking existing children (from Ra’s Al Ghul) to train, rather than attempting to breed one. One of these became known as Mad Dog: very skilled but almost mindless and uncontrolled. In a forest in the middle of nowhere, he attempted to stab someone, Cass leapt in front, and:

Even though it looks from this picture like that big fat knife goes right through her ribcage, heart, and spine, she still managed to kick Mad Dog in the face before collapsing and dying.

After Cass died, she awoke being carried by Steph.

Steph told Cass something she couldn’t have known (that Blüdhaven had just been destroyed), indicating she was really present and not just a near-death hallucination.

Of course, it later turns out that Steph was never actually dead at all, but at this point in time she is dead, and her presence is meant to be an indicator that Cass is truly dead.

Lady Shiva raised her (again), this time via a Lazarus Pit. (At this point, Cass has only very recently found out that Shiva is her mother.)

Cass came out angry with Pit Madness, but Shiva trapped her in a net and coached her through it. Cass calmed down in a matter of minutes.

Time dead: between several hours and a couple of days (Shiva had to carry her out of a forest on foot and get to the Lazarus Pit before she could resurrect her).

Bonus extra deaths

(Implied, inferrable, ambiguous and arguable deaths)

1. Probably died in Death Metal along with everyone else (Death Metal 7, 2021)

Cass probably died in battle when the Dark Multiverse invaded and destroyed all the worlds of the multiverse. All the remaining heroes came together in a hopeless fight against an army of their worst nightmares, including an apparently never-ending swarm of groblins (mindless evil Jokerised Robins led by the Robin King, an evil child Bruce Robin).

Cass’s death isn’t shown on panel and neither is her dead body, but she is definitely in the group of Bats standing ready to fight (far right, in an oddly ill-fitting Orphan outfit):

And later Evil Child Bruce Robin tells Batman that everyone else is dead, so that seems like Cass is dead too.

On the other hand, Evil Child Bruce Robin probably doesn’t know what’s going on away from his immediate vicinity, so it’s possible that Cass was drawn away during the battle earlier on and is still out there fighting in a different part of the field.

After this, Wonder Woman persuades the Creators to remake the world and everyone is fine again.

Time dead: unclear; might be up to an hour, or longer if it takes longer to remake the world.

2. Perhaps was shot by Lady Shiva at some point (Spirit World 3, 2023)

Thank you to @fantastic-nonsense for pointing this one out! During Cass’s trip to the Spirit World (see below) she was bitten by a kitsune spirit and regained the memory of a previous encounter in the Spirit World when she was dead. The flashback montage panel shows Shiva shooting Cass in the chest, followed by Cass’s revival in the Lazarus Pit in Batgirl 1:73 with its very distinctive hook and chain.

Although it’s most likely that this is just a conflation and reinterpretation of Cass’s previous two deaths and resurrections, the new method of death suggests that this could be an additional, off-panel, death and resurrection.

More details in @fantastic-nonsense’s original commentary here.

Afterlife visits

1. Pulled into the Spirit World (Lazarus Planet: Dark Fate, 2023; Spirit World, 2023)

When the Lazarus Volcano erupts and rains down Lazarus Water on the whole earth, it stirs up a lot of undead. In a graveyard in Gotham, Cass joins John Constantine and Xanthe Zhou (a ’spirit envoy’ who died as a child and was partially resurrected and is now both living and dead) in a fight against hopping vampires (jiang-shi) and a ‘ghost collective’ (a big ball of angry ghosts).

With Constantine’s and Cass’s help, Xanthe exorcises the collective, but on its way out the collective grabs Cass’s ankle and pulls her into the Spirit World with it.

In the Spirit World, she more or less gets adopted by Xanthe’s granny, who has also adopted another ghost, Bowen. (It’s not clear in this panel, but Po Po is tiny and only comes up to Cass’s waist.)

A kitsune spirit she meets there tells her they have met before, when she was dead, though she clearly doesn’t remember her time dead. (The spirit doesn’t clarify which of Cass’s deaths it is referring to, but since she was with Steph all through her second death, it is likely to be her first – but it might be a completely different one; see above.)

Of course, John and Xanthe go in after her and they eventually reunite. After a great quest, the freeing of the ghosts from their collective, and major reorganisation of the politics of the Spirit World, they all leave together through a portal.

Time in afterlife: several days.

Batfam Death Project Masterpost