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mdhwrites · 5 months ago

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What Were the Palismens' Point and Did They Succeed?

I got a really long ask that started with asking me how I would have handled the Palisman. For a question like that, I believe there are two core tenants that need to answer. The TL:DR though for this is that despite the Palisman having presence since S1, their point in the story is only made clear in S2 and then their point is useless except for Luz, weakly, because of how TOH defies normal genre convention, in a way that is very counterproductive, when it comes to character climaxes.

Anyways: The questions.

What is the narrative concept of the element we're talking about?

What is the point of the narrative element?

For the Palisman, this isn't clear until Hunting Palisman. Before then, they are glorified broomsticks with one episode acknowledging their agency but at the end of the day in S1: They're just glorified broomsticks. Hunting Palisman very clearly and bluntly states what their point is.

They are a physical manifestation of the witch's will and desires. You can only obtain one with a clarity of purpose and conviction. This is also the point of them: They are essentially character statements. The grand thesis of whoever that palisman is connected to. Honestly, as far as creative uses of magical items to present the culmination of a character, the palisman are...

Exceptionally stock standard. Like painfully so. Anyone watched a season of Power Rangers? Yeah, the Palisman are just the battlizer. If you watched Winx Club like... AT ALL past the first season, maybe even requiring that long, it is ANY of their power ups because they always come with a big character growth moment that defines who they are as a person. It is maybe one of the basic fantasy tropes out there to have self actualization be a power up.

And this isn't just me being hyperbolic. Even from their first introduction, it is presented as a part of a witch growing up. That the school grants witches their palisman but that Luz will have to earn hers. Once she does, she has a loyal companion and the ability to fly. Even at Hexside, you still have to reach certain age to get a Palisman. They're not just giving them to kindergartners. The show itself, by all accounts, says this is explicitly what they are. It's even why Hunter can have Flapjack like he does because the two are their most at sync the closer Hunter is to being Cale- Being the good person he always was. -_- Before then, during moments like Eclipse Lake, they are out of sync, just like he says.

There's just a small, tiny, MINISCULE problem with this concept. Barely noticeable so I'm probably making a big deal out of no- HOW DO YOU HAVE TWO CHARACTER CLIMAXES LIKE THIS IN THE SAME MINUTE AND THEN ONE OFF SCREEN!?

TOH has this weird aversion to character climaxes, at least traditionally paced ones. This is any episode focused on the ending of an era for a character. When a hero falls to the darkside, with the entire episode, or episode after the fall happens at the end of one episode, being about his fall to the darkness. When the scoundrel decides that there are indeed things worth more than gold and has to grapple with that. The end of Book 2 of Avatar spends a lot of time in its last couple episodes grappling with what is a character built up over the entire season: Which side of Zuko wins out for his future? This is balanced with Aang's character climax with the guru with asking questions about how much Aang is willing to give up to the job of the Avatar instead of being the free spirited, loving kid he's always been. A LOT of time is given to this.

TOH hates giving time to ANYONE who isn't Luz. Very few people get real character climaxes of this sort of variety. Willow essentially never gets one and Gus never gets one. You could Watching and Dreaming and Labyrinth Runners specifically but those episodes aren't about self actualization. A VERY common thread with character climaxes is a choice the core character has to make in order to make things right. Meanwhile, in both episodes, HUNTER is the one to make the choice and actions to fix the problem. It is not about self actualization that then prompts a better, more refined character... It's honestly just one problem of the character amongst many like most kid's show episodic issues. This is ESPECIALLY true for these two because Gus' having this level of confidence issues has never been a thing. The closest to ever come to it is the Human Society episode and, well... That happened like a season before Labyrinth Runners with MAYBE one more hint at the S1 penultimate episode from the orb giving him a pep talk. Otherwise, he has confidence. Willow's is worse because she's NEVER taken on others burdens like they talk about. The stories they tell do not sound like Willow at all and Gus, her best friend, has NEVER called her 'Dependable Willow' before now. It has all the hallmark fingerprints of a long running kids show retconning elements to have a plotline this episode. You know, during the season that was SHORTENED.

And this is without recognizing that their palismans have NOTHING to do with either episode, at any time. They are absent from being a part of their self actualization and why shouldn't they be? They already bonded and obtained their power up back in Hunting Palisman. Both made declarations and received a palisman for it because... What the fuck?

This is the core of why when I saw the initial question, I kind of went "I can't do them better because they're pointless besides giving the fandom Patronus stand ins for OC creation." They don't do jack shit.

Amity gets this THE WORST. She makes her palisman off screen, before the shortening took effect, and we only get told what it was... As a part of comforting Luz. Her character thesis, the embodiment of who she is, her will made manifest and it's used narratively to try and comfort her girlfriend. The words actually don't matter because a character climax should not just be words. It should include action alongside it. A showing of their character alongside them telling you, if they tell you at all.

This is also why Luz's character climax blows on this front. Not only is it not well built up to (I despise Luz's character climax) but it also doesn't have action behind it. It's a big statement before she... Just shows off Stringbean to her friends and then gets ready to go fight the Collector? What does that have to do with Luz? What does that have to do with 'wanting to be understood'? It's not even like her goal is to show the Collector understanding now that she's figured this part of herself out. As far as we can tell, her goal was to kick the Collector's ass right up until the Collector tried to show he was an uwu baby, please ignore the murder stars and the fact that I actually know the consequences of my actions (he KNEW King would hate him for the dreams and so is shown to have understanding of his actions upsetting people) and yet did them anyways. Obtaining Stringbean is meaningless besides the meta context of "She just like me fo real" for the people who identify with her.

All of this because TOH won't commit an episode to just finishing a character's arc, or even part of it. I have LONG been complaining about how Escaping Expulsion IS a character climax for Amity but she's in like a collective four minutes of the episode. It is the complete refusal to continue to be who she was. To be willing to throw away even her family in the pursuit of her own happiness and desire to choose her own future. For her to be such a small part of it centers her motivation on Luz because she hasn't had enough time to explain or put focus on why she doesn't want to be who she has been. It's always just on "I wanna be with my friends." or "I want to protect Luz." or "Luz and her friends make me happy." As such, the motivating factor being Luz's life being in danger doesn't make it feel like Amity self actualizing, it makes it feel like a young lesbian throwing away everything for someone she has known for like two months. That what matters is not her character but just that this is another step towards Lumity for her. That's not exactly great, is it? Especially not with how much they want Odalia to shoulder the burden of the fact that Amity CHOSE to be pure evil to Willow for YEARS. For her to be cast off so easily... Well, it just doesn't hit right. Not like it should for a climax like this.

Almost every character climax in the show suffers from stuff like this. Eda's big farewell in Agony of a Witch? She's in like four minutes of it and barely spends time with Luz so we never get that deliberation before Eda chooses to lose her life. It can't even be said that the season built up to it because Luz and Eda haven't had a plotline together since Adventure in the Elements. At best? Grom. And Grom doesn't exactly help build up how deep their connection is, does it?

And so how would I do the Palisman better? I'd just remove them. They are not used for the purpose they were built for and the show doesn't do the elements they're connected to in a way that would ever work for them. They have no point besides being cute and marketable but otherwise? They're entirely superfluous.

Which is a pretty shitty thing to say about something that's meant to represent the best your character can ever be. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#the owl house criticism #toh critical #toh #the owl house #palisman

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aresielle · 4 months ago

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We often see on social media or in comment under articles "X will nether do that. It's illogical and bad writing." about a character who fall to the dark side of the force.

I think peoples forget, the fist think to disappear, when someone fall, is logic and rationality. Darksider are not logical. They are not rational. They 're doing the opposite of the reason why they fall initially. And they always made the worse decisions ever.

Anakin go from "I want to save my wife. I like to be a hero" to "I choke her. I'll kill everybody, the women and the children too".

Dooku, from "the republic and the jedi are corrupt" to "I create a gouvernement more corrupt than the galactic senate and a war who will force the jedi to act somehow more again their moral code." And he didn't see a problem.

Maul. His name is an explanation enough for anyone who had watch the clone war cartoon. There is nothing rational in his "KEEENNNOOOBBBBBBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII !!!".

Palpatine. He seems fine at first. And when we analyse his decisions ... we begun to doubt his choices. His own kidnapping at the beginning of episode III. The way he handle Anakin and Luke in episode VI when he know Anakin is irrational about his family since day one. Staying in the second death star while nagging the rebel.

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo ... like Maul, this guy is not really an exemple of good logical decisions. He makes bad decisions faster than his father made the Kessel run. Who run to Soke instead of his mother, Leia Organa, when his uncle try to kill him? She is a biggest tread to Luke.

Reva and the inquisitors in general. Their jobs is to capture or kill jedi. So of course they go around the galaxie telling people "have you see a jedi? These loosers who are kind, compassionate and help peoples?" . It's pic logical's tactic for hunting jedi.

To be fair sometimes they seems to realise they made a mistake somewhere. Like Qimir when he look at Mae in episode 2 and 4. Or Palpatine when the invisible hand crash on Coruscant. They have the same "why did I choose this idiot as my apprentice" look.

So Osha following the hot guy who kill her old friend, Yord, and Jecki, her sister padawan she just meet, and try to kill her twin sister Mae is following this pattern of stupid choice done by people who fall to the dark side of the force. It's stupid. It's irrational. I think that's the point.

Yoda says the dark side is quicker, easier, more seductive. He forget to say you will loose your brain cells in the process.

#star wars #spoilers #the acolyte #the acolyte spoilers #anakin skywalker #osha aniseya #count dooku #sheev palpatine #darth maul

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 1 month ago

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Always heard how aang is preachy in TSR to katara and how he doesn't accept her "darkside". And I can't help but ask zutarians where exacly is line between preachiness and loving? What differs what aang is doing from what uncle Iroh is doing to zuko. Iroh can talk about hope, inner strength. When zuko is frustrated with not learning lighting technique he doesn't coddle him or whatever but speaks about how he has to get rid of his turmoil and speaks diffrence between shame and being proud. But guess what ,here iroh is wise, loving uncle, he is not forcing his beliefs on zuko no no no he wants whats better for him and wants him to change. Look at aang in tsr he says what revenge can do, says to katara that she has other choice,when she doesn't agree he lets her take appa and says that he needs to face this man(very similar to how iroh let zuko go in s2). When katara returns he asks if she is ok and says that he is proud of her, even after katara didn't forgive this man,aang doesn't care he just smiles as she leaves. Aang here is forcing beliefs on her,doesn't accept her dark side, doesn't understand her pain but iroh through zuko's journey is loving uncle that zuko ought to apologize. What a joke. Ember island aang yeah I would smack him but TSR aang? I will always defend him.

I wouldn't even smack EIP Aang. He was a 12-year-old that made a mistake, immediately felt bad, and left Katara alone because he never meant to upset her and didn't want to make things worse.

I'd say "save the slap upside the head for when he sends an assassin after people like Zuko did" - but lets face it, Aang would never do something that extreme and obviously awful to anyone, meaning he was better person than (pre-redemption) Zuko and that's why Zutarians will try to twist EVERYTHING he does into somehow being a selfish, inconsiderate thing to do, hence the complains that he was "preachy" for trying to stop Katara from making a terrible mistake.

#anti zutara #pro kataang #pro aang

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luxthestrange · 2 years ago

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RoR Incorrect quotes#103 Dark Side

Adam talking with the Mother's of the fighters about his experiences raising you

Adam: So once my boy's and I was having a lightsaber fight, My little girl comes up to me and goes-

Y/n(5): Hey daddy, I'm gonna have a lightsaber fight with you too but im Darth Vader! Adam: ...And I was like "Alright, You know...little weird you wanna be at the darkside at this age...CHOOSING evil at 5 is a little concerning to a parent"Whatever you want-

Adam: My little girl is holding this Red light saber TWICE the size of her body and she is psyched she is doing what her older brothers were doing with her dad, And were just yk going back an fourth-She cuts my leg off so im hopping in one leg...

Adam:-Then she cuts my arm that's holding the lightsaber, I drop the lightsaber-NOW SHE'S GETTING COCKY-...

The Mother's*Giggle at Adam's demonstration*

Adam: THEN SHE CUTS MY OTHER LEG OFF, AND I FALL BACK ON THE COUCH CUZ I DONT HAVE A CHOICE NOW I DONT HAVE ANY LEGS AND I SAID-"Oh sweetie~You won! You just beat daddy!~"...And in the most adorable voice you all can image she just goes...

Y/n(5):Not yet!~

Adam: AND PUT THE SHIT THROUGH MY THROAT AND CUT!*Doesnt knows whether to be proud or...scared*She said "You gotta get the throat! that's the most important part!"

Anne"Maybe Jack and Her are a matched-made in heaven after all..."

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marvelstars · 7 months ago

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Tatooine and Skywalkers

I was thinking about Obi-Wan, Luke and Tatooine and realized that despite Obi´s constant complains over the planet and uncle Owen, it was Obi-Wan´s idea to bring baby Luke to Tatooine and make him survive the planet because Anakin was able to do so as well, so Luke had to show he could, as preparation to be able to defeat Vader acording to ROTS novel.

Obi could have chosen literally any other planet, Alderaan, Corellia, etc and even bring over Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru to take care of Luke but no, Luke had to survive Tatooine as a rite of passage or something like that.

So while I feel bad for Obi here you kind of made your bed mister.

About Luke and Anakin experiences on Tatooine:

While Ani certainly liked to have his own adventures and play with Kitster and Wald, he had more than enough being a slave, having a bomb inside his body, hidding threepio from Watto, developing his own detector of bomb chips to take out his and his mothers, escape with his mother in a podracer, of course until QuiGon and Padme told him they needed help, protecting himself from your usual pirates, hutt soldiers, tusken raiders who are always around Tatooine and protect his Mom from abusers while he was at it. He used the same slave system to protect her and others "It´s a shame you can´t kill me because then you would have to pay for me"

It´s LUKE the wild one who believes Tatooine is boring and he absolutely needs to have adventures elsewhere, join the imperial army and the rebellion after that, because he just had enough of shooting at giant rats from a distance and being given shores on the farm by his uncle. Sure there are Hutt soldiers around sometimes but there are also imperial soldiers so the Hutts no longer have as much influence on the planet as they used to have. Luke only comes back to Tatooine to rescue Han and turn Jabba´s base of operations to ashes before going to DS II to talk his Dad out of the darkside.

Like I love Anakin and Luke´s similarities but something I also love about them are their differences.

Anakin is totally willing to work within a system he doesn´t like if he doesn´t have other choice and he can adapt some of it´s characteristics to his and his loved ones benefice until he can fix it enough to make it better for everybody.

Luke is of the mind that if he doesn´t like a system he is totally willing to leave it or bring it down, with explosions if he can involve them.

Tatooine was instrumental in teaching them this. I love that for them.

#anakin skywalker #star wars #darth vader #luke skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #Tatooine loves it´s skywalkers #and the Skywalkers love/hate it back

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antianakin · 1 year ago

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I keep seeing this frustrating post about how Anakin wouldn't have fallen if the Jedi made him a Creche Master because "babies need attachments!" No. Babies need support and love. Anakin would have SUCKED as a Creche Master. Because the Younglings would LEAVE. I have a feeling he would have sabotaged as many as he could get away with to keep them with him. Because he STILL has the flaw, he believes people belong to him. Not to themselves. He MAYBE wouldn't have killed ALL the Younglings. But he would have taken them to be raised as Darksiders and in Sith teachings so is that really better then death?

Sure I giggle about Creche Master Anakin as an AU. But when people start insisting it's the RIGHT PATH... yeah no. Those kids would have been miserable.

I've definitely seen posts about how the Jedi were terrible people for "forcing" Anakin to be a soldier instead of allowing him to be a Creche Master, as if Anakin wasn't saying from DAY ONE that he wanted to be a Jedi because he wanted to be a big hero who came back to free the slaves. That's not the kind of work a Creche Master does and the kind of work a Creche Master does doesn't seem like something Anakin would be too terribly interested in.

He reacts pretty negatively to being handed a teenaged Padawan and tells her not to "slow him down," so I don't really see him being particularly patient with little kids, personally, or happy to just sit around being nurturing and cleaning up messes and providing enrichment and dealing with temper tantrums. He'd HATE IT. He's honestly TERRIBLE as a teacher to Ahsoka, too. His early attempts at bonding with her suck, his idea of helping Ahsoka overcome a massive fuck-up that caused several people to die is to put himself in danger and force her to be the only leader in charge and if she fails, they literally all die, and he offers her zero support in that. He's late to what appears to be an important Jedi test and when she does well, he doesn't praise her at all and instead tells her that the test is inadequate. And of course the training he ends up giving her involves shocking her into unconsciousness in an unsafe environment for hours upon hours. When Ahsoka ultimately decides to leave the Jedi, his pleas for her to come back are all about HIMSELF and he practically accuses her of being an idiot for refusing to stay.

Nothing about his one relationship with a child in his care really ever shows that he'd be GOOD at handling children as his JOB. Or that he'd even WANT to. And like a lot of people have been saying about going into jobs like that in real life or about becoming a parent, this is the kind of thing you really should feel 100% committed to before making that choice.

I don't think Anakin would've intentionally sabotaged the Order by trying to make its children leave. He does obviously somewhat unintentionally encourage a mistrust of the Council and a judgment of the Order with Ahsoka, but he never wants her to leave. Like I said earlier, he actively insists that she has to come back to the Order when she tries to leave and makes her choice all about himself. He gets accusatory and tells her she CAN'T just throw this life away even though she's already said she feels like she can't trust herself right now. Anakin refuses to leave the Order himself, he doesn't really want to because he does want the things that come with it, he just doesn't tend to like Jedi teachings or the limitations that ALSO come with being a Jedi. He wants to have all of the positives of being a Jedi and none of what he'd consider negatives. So even if we pretend Anakin might've been willing to become a creche master of some kind, I don't see him intentionally sabotaging them. I don't think he even realizes he's doing that to Ahsoka at all, he's completely shocked when she runs during the Wrong Jedi arc and when she leaves at the end.

But I do think he'd have a negative impact on the kids, I do think he'd end up possessive of them. I think he'd probably play favorites and be overly harsh when having to deal with discipline or just actively neglectful towards some of them. I think Anakin would be constantly frustrated and annoyed by the kids if they weren't acting the exact way he wanted them to. I think he'd have a hard time trying to connect to them and would desperately want to pass them off onto someone else to deal with the worst problems. The concept of Anakin stealing some of those favorites during Order 66 to raise them as Sith or Inquisitors of some kind is absolutely devastating.

This is also why I giggle at those silly little board books about Darth Vader the father with baby Luke and Leia, but also like holy shit the concept of Luke and Leia being raised by Anakin, especially once he's chosen to be Vader, is HORRIFYING as a concept. It would NOT be this cute sweet little thing, Luke and Leia would be so fucking miserable and they'd probably both turn out really badly as a result of such a terrible upbringing.

I don't think anything in ROTS really indicates he wants kids, either. His reaction to Padme's revelation that she's pregnant doesn't exactly scream excited or happy and he never really shows any interest in the baby or their future as a family the way Padme does. Padme will wax poetic about how she wants to raise the baby on Naboo and Anakin's response is "you look so beautiful." He'll have a nightmare about Padme dying in childbirth and Padme has to literally prompt him to consider whether the baby survived or not. Palpatine gets him to turn on Windu by saying "I can help you save the ONE you love." What he yells at Obi-Wan on Mustafar is "You will not take HER from me" rather than "THEM." When he wakes up from surgery, he ONLY asks about Padme and not whether the baby survived. At no point does he ever genuinely seem to give a shit about the baby at all or show any indication that he WANTS to have kids. He doesn't fantasize about their future together as a family, he isn't brainstorming names with her, he isn't worried about how to raise a baby in secret.

And obviously the desire for children of your own is not the same as the desire to be a teacher, but I feel like the crechemasters are RAISING those kids, they're not just a daycare worker who passes them back to their real parents at the end of the day. So if Anakin doesn't even show any interest in raising his own biological children in canon, I don't see that he'd have any interest in raising the Jedi children. And it certainly wouldn't save him from going dark. It just means he's on planet more often and so probably spends even MORE time with Palpatine which means he might actually become a Sith even SOONER.

Even in the nicest possible AU where Anakin gets raised by the Jedi from a much earlier age and has no real issues with authority or attachments the way he does in canon, and he isn't influenced by Palpatine at all and genuinely does love being a Jedi etc etc, I don't see his personality as being someone who would be satisfied just being a Creche master. I feel like he'd still want something more thrilling than that, something that allowed him to go out and travel and do "bigger" stuff. I think he'd likely be a better teacher in general, he might be fine coming by the Creche once in a while to interact with the kids, and he'd be a lot better with his own padawan, but a Creche master as a career? Eh, I don't see it. Maybe once he starts getting really old and feels like switching things up a bit. We know through High Republic that this is an option the Jedi can take, they can move away from rougher field work and take up slower positions if they feel like they need to for one reason or another. So sure, maybe in the nicest possible AU, Anakin might one day in his twilight years decide to slow down enough to be a Creche master. But that's probably the only way I can see it actually happening.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical

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jung-shook-iieee · 2 years ago

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Darkside 2 | PJM

➳ pairing: Jimin x reader

➳ rating: M (gore violence, implied dubcon.)

➳ genre: arranged marriage au, dark themed.

➳ summary: after the demise of your father, you were forced to marry a mob boss who was a decade older than you. Jimin has always been ruthless and marrying someone like him wasn't your first choice, but living with him made you crave for his attention. For getting his attention you were repeatedly acting out until one day he decided to take the matter in his own hands.

➳ warnings: spanking, fingering ( not much described), use of curse words, orgasm denial, gore violence, slight exhibition, dark themed, implied dubcon, reader se def scared of jimin, jungkook is fucking sexy you know? And jimin is in full daaddy mode lmao, overall it's really fucked up and dark and yeah it's a 18+ so if you feel uncomfortable do not read further.

➳ word count: 5k , (pt.ii) ( pt i)

Masterlist

➳ a/n: woah, it took me so long to post it but yk my exam is tomorrow and i don't know what the fuck I'll write but here is it so enjoy? And i haven't proofread it so genuinely sorry for any grammer mistakes. ( I know this story is fucked up so don't come at me. Okay?) Reblog if you like it tho. <3333333

➳ PARK JIMIN YA'LLLLL

➳ a/n2: I do not support this kind of activities in general, it's just a fiction and I do not own anybody. Please understand the difference between fiction and reality. And please enjoy. <33

You could hear them downstairs. The men your husband had over. It seemed like there was two-three of them, plus your husband. Drinking alcohol and talking in low voices. Probably going over some illegal deal - not that you cared. You took a deep breath and looked down at your outfit for the night - a lacy black nighty with a plunging neckline - sinfully short too, with the hemline barely brushing against your upper thighs. You knew if you bent down, it would leave nothing to the imagination. And panties? Who needed them?

Slowly, you made your way down the stairs, each step feeling more excited than the last. You had never really disobeyed Jimin so blatantly before. A part of you, despite everything, was still scared of the big bad mob boss he was. But a larger part of you was irritated by his apathy, how he acted like you didn't even exist. At this point, you'd do anything to get somekind of reaction out of him - which is why you were in your current state.

The cold air hit you hard when you entered the living room. The serious chatter between the men seemed to cease almost immediately as you slowly made your way across the room, not sparing any of them a glance - not even Jimin. You made sure to wink your hips with every step, knowing that every single eye in that room was currently on you - even Jimin

You made your way into the kitchen, exhaling the breath you'd been holding in. You hadn't thought too far ahead with your plan, but decided to grab the leftovers of ttaekboki, since you didn't get to eat it properly.

You could hear them chuckling and whispering to each other until one's voice chimes in, " Well Mr. Park, who's she? Is she your whore? " You wrinkled your nose in disgust. These men were sure not from the local or else they would've known you. No men dared to look at you, let calling you a whore alone.

" You gotta introduce her to us man, I bet she must be good that's why you're keeping her around. Huh? " Another unfamiliar voice chimed in. God why the hell Jimin even invited them over? Shitty perverts.

" I'm his wife and hello to you too. " You said casually leaning over the marble top giving them a show. Even though the lights were dim in the kitchen but still they could see your cleavage. It was cold, your nipples were poking out from the silk material.

You dared to make eye contact with Jimin and you could've sweared your blood ran cold just from his gaze only. He's a master in controlling his facial expressions but the way he was eyeing you up and down with cold,stoic expression on his face told you that he was beyond pissed. His fist was clenched tight, turning white and your coy smile instantly faded.

You regretted coming down, yes, you did and you were about to stood back quickly when suddenly Jimin stood up and smiled at you, the kind of smile which told you that you fucked up. He started walking towards like he's going to beat the shit of you.

" Excuse me everyone, this is my wife. Park Y/N." He said smoothly and walked beside you. He roughly pulled you by your waist more close. A squeek left your mouth and you did not dared to look him in the eyes.

He tugged you forward walking towards the guest. "It seems like my wife is definitely confused because I clearly told her that she isn't allowed to come downstairs. But -" He paused, and you stuck your chin up and gave him the biggest glare you could muster up.

But unfortunately for her, she's disobeyed me." Jimin finished, looking at you and reaching out and grabbing your wrist roughly. The calmness in his demeanour was making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you'd sooner die than give away that you were definitely scared. You tried to twist out of his death grip but to no avail. And he was literally crushing your wrist with how hard he was holding it.

" Let go of me. " You hissed at him, knowing full well that you were basically putting on a free show for everyone else in the room, and they were hanging on to every word you spoke. Jimin didn't even spare you a glance.

"So, you gentlemen will have to excuse me while I go see to my wife. As you can see, she's being a bratt and needs disciplining. Jungkook, take some more beer out for these guys. They'll sit and wait while I finish with her, won't you?" asked his right hand guy and othrs, except you knew it wasn't really a question.

" Sure park we understand it would be so nice if you would tame her in front of us. It would be a sight to behold. " One of them said adjusting his bulge. He had the audacity to say this to jimin and you wondered why jimin only smiled at him. It wasn't the nicest smile of his, which definitely gave you goosebumps.

Jimin said something to jungkook in foreign language, something only which jungkook understood and smirked.

The whispering drowned in the background as jimin started dragging you roughly towards his room. The look on his face was unreadable, regarding His actions his expressions were calm. The grip on your wrist kept getting tighter and your heart was thudding out of your chest.

Let go of me, you fucking jerk!" You swore, wiggling around, your small fists landing on his muscular back. Your small fist's punch would probably doing nothing to his built body. You felt embarrassed as everyone eyed you shamelessly while your own husband dragged you like some sack of potatoes.

" FUCKING LEAVE MY HAND YOU ASSHOLE. " You swored again as you entered his bedroom and surprisingly he did. With a blink of an eye he pushed you roughly on the bed making you whimper from the harsh act.

" Fuck you bastard you're so fucking crazy they were calling me whore and you yourself treated me like one in front of them. How fucking dare you. " You spat every word laced with venom, Your nose was flaring up, You tried to get up, planning to storm out of his room and run into yours and lock the door and just get the fuck away from him.

Easily, jimin overpowered you, roughly pushing you back down onto the bed when you tried to make a run for it. And again, you tried to get up, because fuck if you'd let this man get the best of you. You attempted to shove him aside, except he was built like a brick wall and didn't budge an inch. That was when he grabbed your jaw roughly, jerking your face forward to meet his gaze.

"Keep fucking talking, you dumb bitch, I dare you." He hissed, his thumb and forefinger pressing so hard into your skin, enough to bruise. It got your eyes tearing. No one ever in your life has treated you like this.

" If you keep acting up like this y/n then I'll have to do something really bad. " He threatened by pressing you harder against the mattress, he hovered you, arms on both sides and trapping you in between. He was looking down at you so dangerously.

" Fuck you. " You seethed through clench teeth and wriggled more vigorously. You scratched jimin's neck in the process, blood started trickling down his neck but you did not felt sorry for him instead you again aimed to scratch there but this time jimin slapped you across the cheek.

It left you stunned. You did not dared to turn your head the other side. " You have the fucking audacity", began quietly, face inches away from yours, "To parade around downstairs in this fucking clothes, acting like you're a free piece of ass. I don't know if you're asking for it, or just plain fucking stupid."

" Bastard. " You said in low voice, your throat was sore from all the shouting earlier.

" And that filthy mouth of yours. Damn! Y/n you just annoy the shit out of me sometimes. " He continued. "And to think I was going easy on you all this time. Excusing your behaviour 'cause you're young and stupid." He shook you, hard. "Not anymore. You're a fucking spoiled little rich brat, and clearly your daddy didn't fucking think it was important to teach you some manners and respect."

And before you knew jimin manhandled you, You scratched and clawed to try and escape his grasp, but in two seconds flat he was sitting on the side of his bed with you over his knee, your thrashing legs pinned underneath his strong thigh. Red hot embarrassment coursed through your veins - how dare he put you over his knee like this! In a position so demeaning?

" Let go of me jimin I swear -"

You were cut short when you felt his hand on your ass. His rough, calloused palm stroked the silky material of the chemise that barely concealed your bare skin, and involuntarily you sucked in your breath sharply. What the fuck was he doing?

" You should have been disciplined a long time ago but looks like your daddy was a shit huh? " He chuckled, how could he even dare to insult your dead father. " He clearly did not bothered to teach you some manners? " He caressed your flesh over the silk material.

" Shut your fucki-" He did not even let you finish and suddenly grabbed the soft flesh roughly And you couldn't help but gasp - both at his touch and at the jolt you felt between your legs. What the fuck. No. Fuck no. This wasn't happening. He continued to fondle your ass, touching you as if you were a piece of meat on display. " How about I teach you some fucking manners my dear wife? " He asked Mockingly.

" You're fucking sick." You gasped, determinedly ignoring the way your pussy clenched at his words. With all your might, you tried once more to wiggle out of his grasp. Your motions ceased immediately when his palm cracked down on your ass. Hard. And you cried out in both pain and shock.

"You try and move one more time, and I'll use my fucking belt." jimin warned, the threat making your mouth run dry. You immediately fell limp against him, breathing hard from fighting this losing battle. Fuck him. Fuck him for taking you over his knee and spanking you like you were a child. You hung your head, squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears of anger and embarrassment at bay.

That's more fucking like it." Jimin said, once more going back to squeezing your stinging ass, as if to rub salt on the wound. You bit your lip at the pain, and debated calling for help. And it seemed like he could read your mind: "And by all fucking means, yell and scream all you want. The door's wide open, princess. They can all hear you. But if you think anyone's coming to save you, you're dumber than I thought."

"You... You can't do this." You said, voice breaking but still having a bit of fight left in you.

Jimin lifted the flimsy material of the chemise, exposing your ass to his cold stare. "That's where you're wrong, princess. I can do this. I'm the only fucking one who can do this. And you're gonna take it. Because you deserve it. You deserve to be punished for flaunting your fucking body as if it's not already been claimed."

SMACK

The first hit sounded like the crack of a whip, and stung just as bad. You couldn't help but cry out in pain, knowing you were giving him the very reaction he wanted from you. And how you wished you were stronger, calmer, cooler, more collected. You wished you hadn't given him the satisfaction of hearing your cries of pain. But it hurt like a bitch. So then why could you feel the wetness pooling between your legs?

And it was like Jimin was unleashing hell on your ass, with smack after smack raining down angrily onto your sensitive skin. It was like all his hatred rested in the palm of his hand, which cracked down against your ass with full force, making you scream every time it did.

" Dumb fucking slut." He said through clenched teeth, the spanks never ceasing as he continued to talk. "And to think I felt sorry for you. For being forced into this. To think I left you alone. Didn't say shit when you were in my house, -"

As he was talking to you, you heard a loud series of cries, which immediately made you stiffer. You instantly clutched his biceps because you were scared. You did not know the source and the cries only grew louder along with a sound of hitting something very hard to be precise.

" Jim- is- down- who........ " You mumbled being scared of those atrocious sounds.

" Y/N focus on me. " Jimin ordered with an authority and you couldn't deny him so you nodded your head. Still scared you started sobbing softly.

He grabbed your hairs and pulled you backwards towards him, " Don't ever dare to cut me in between. No one have that power over me got that? " He tugged it harshly making you cry loudly.

" Answer baby....? " He again tugged it.

" Ye-s.... Y-es.. Please I'm so-rry. " You begged. All the faint arousal you felt till now vanished in a blink. You weren't aroused now, not even a bit. You were plain scared. Scared of what might happening downstairs.

" Good, so where was I? Huh I was saying you using my credit card, acting like a spoilt little bitch. Complaining about everything under the fucking sun. And you think you could keep your fucking act for long huh? " He completed his sentence and smacked your butt hard.

To be honest you couldn't focus on jimin properly because the loud muffles and cries could be heard real fucking good from downstairs. And jimin noticed that and he wasn't really happy about it.

He told you to focus on him. Didn't he? But you being the spoiled brat pissed jimin even more.

This time he spanked you really hard, which left you howl in pain.. Wriggling around furiously, you faint sobs turned into ugly ones. " It fucking hurts pleaseeeee. " You begged with whatever energy was left within you.

" Good it should fucking hurt. I told you to focus on me did not I? " He turned you around and manhandled you onto your knees. Your face was red, eyes puffy, lips swollen from all the harsh tugs you gave yourself to keep quiet. " But you had your fucking focus on anything but me. " He wrapped his hands around your neck and squeezed tight. "L-eav-ee.. So-rr-.. Pleas-" The oxygen was cutting, your eyes we're rolling back.

Jimin released your throat giving you a light slap on your cheek. He took in your condition for a good two minutes. And within those two minutes you felt exposed, embarrassed, self conscious and what not. Anyone in your place right now would want to jump from the cliff, he turned you into this condition of yours. He was the reason why you felt ashamed and pathetic.

Jimin stood up from the bed and fixed his obvious bulge, he raked his fingers through his hairs and patted your hair. " Come on stand up. " He helped you in getting up. He wiped your cheeks with his hand, pushed back all the strands of hair which were covering your beautiful face.

" Not so sassy now, are you? " He taunted while sucking his lower lip between his teeth. That coy smile was taunting you. He leaned down and kissed your cheek. Then took your small hands into his and started walking towards the stairs.

" I - need to- chan-ge.. Pleas-ee. " You somehow managed to say that, even though your mind was telling you to keep your mouth shut. Jimin laughed, throwing his head back., " Why now? You should have used your little brain before baby but don't worry now they won't mind. " He said and dragged you downstairs even though you struggled to stay back.

You were feeling scared as jimin dragged you downstairs, the smell instantly hit you, making you nauseous. The iron smell was so strong that it was surely blocking your senses. 1...2...3...4....steps and then you entered the hall. You screamed so loudly that all the heads in the room turned towards you.

No, it must be a dream. The sight in front of you was too disturbing to see. There was a pool of blood on the floor, jungkook's hands were bloody, but the blood wasn't of him. His hair were messy, a few buttons from his shirt were ripped off, other guards were also in the same condition.

Those three men who insulted you were on their knees, fucked out, beaten into a pulp, they were shivering and covered in their on blood.

You unconsciously tried to take a step back but then you remembered jimin was next to you. He quickly tightened his grip over your arms and dragged you forward. You started crying, you were feeling dizzy and felt like vomiting when your feet came in contact with the cold yet warm blood.

" Please, please, please, don-t do this.. I want to go back please ji-min.. " You begged, hell you would beg a hundred time more right now. Fuck your self respect you just want to go back to your room, hide under the covers and cry.

" Sshh baby, you should not cry... They deserved it. You remember how they called you names. Don't you? " Jimin cooed at you, stroking your back while maintaining the tight grip over your arms.

" They dared to disrespect you, my wife. But don't worry I'm still not finished with them. " Jimin chuckled and roughly dragged you towards the couch, so you could get a perfect view of jungkook's art.

To be honest it was the most jimin had ever spoken to you, and you never wished to see him like this.

He sat on the couch and made you sit on his lap. You were scared to death. You were shivering, not because of the cold but because of the fear. Sweat was trickling down your forehead and neck but you couldn't utter a word right now.

" So, what we're you saying noah? Repeat your words.! " Jimin whispered said to one of the men who insulted you. The guy was literally unconscious, he couldn't even open his eye properly. When the guy did not replied jungkook grabbed his hair and shook his head sideways. Thr lateral groaned in pain.

" Say something buddy, I'm waiting.!! " Jimin said as he fumbled with your nighty straps. You were traumatized, couldn't utter a word, the tears were continuously flowing down.

" Bas-t-ar-d. " The guy barely said and instantly received a punch from jungkook. The action made you shriek loudly. You did not want to be here. Even if those guys called you a whore, you don't want them to die.

" Shut up will you? I'm talking right here ain't I?? " Jimin grabbed your chin and turned his side harshly, you Whimpered as you looked into his eyes. They were emotionless, this jimin right here, in front of you was different.

" m'sorr-y.... Please. Please. Jus-t... I won-t do that again. Please. " You begged, with your hands joined in front of him.

" I will let you go princess, but we have to give them a show. They're our guest. Sit pretty and listen to me now. Won't you? " Jimin pecked your lips as he cooed at you. Stroking your wet cheeks with his thick fingers and pushing back the hair from your face.

" No. No-No... Pleas- No. " Your eyes widened, you cried loudly and struggled against his body. You were trying to get up but jimin easily held you in place.

" Sshhh... You don't want me to fuck you on the floor. Now would you? " Jimin warned and in one quick movement he tore the lace material off your body. You screamed and cried, he was being inhuman. How could he do these things in front of other people?

" Come on y/n, jungkook did so much for you! He deserves a show as well. Would you like that jeon? " He asked from the brown hair boy sheepishly.

" Anything you want Hyung. " The boy replied with a smirk on his face and jimin signaled the other guards to leave the place.

" I swe-ar i would not dis-obey you again. Jimi-n please dontt do th-is... Please. I promise I Will li-ssten to you. Promise.. Please just don-tt. " You furiously begged, at the moment you would do anything to change your husband's mind. But it was too late he already started separating your legs roughly, and flicked your nipples with other hand.

He stopped and looked at you, " See, princess? See how easy it is for me to break you? To reduce you to a crying mess?" He stroked his finger against your cheek, gathering the salty tears that were drying against the soft skin. His touch was feather-soft, intimate. And you felt so humiliated, so defeated, so conflicted - and now it confused you why he was being so gentle.

You sniffled. No other man had ever reduced you to feeling like a humiliated, kicked puppy. "I was just... I just... Please." It was like you couldn't gather yourself, couldn't tame your thoughts which seemed to be running every which way.

Jimin's hand slowly slid down your thighs and ghosted over your pussy. " Don't cry baby this will only teach you a lesson. You thought I was some local mafia? On whom you could shout, blame, curse anytime? No baby, I'm the fuckin king. " Jimin stated as hi flicked your clit lightly. You weren't in your senses right now, you couldn't believe your eyes and ears.

You audibly gasped, the sudden direct contact making you almost convulse forward into his chest. You grabbed a fistful of his white shirt, scrunching your eyes shut and wishing to God that maybe he will stop tormenting you, that maybe he could feel pitty for you.

" You're soaking baby..... You really are crazy my lady. " Jimin fake gasped, easing a thick finger into your pussy. And you cried into his chest, hating that after beating the living shit out of your ass, and scaring the daylights out of you this man had casually just began fingering you and it felt so fucking good. You prayed he or jungkook wouldn’t notice when you began to slowly hump against his finger, wanting to create more friction. He chuckled, “You’re a naughty fucking slut, aren’t you? All riled up and on edge, wet from all this mess in front of you, Now you want your daddy to take care of you, don’t you?”

You were too ashamed to reply, your face still buried in his chest, your tears staining his shirt and your lips bitten raw from trying to suppress your moans. Jimin added another finger and increased his pace, his thumb finding your clit and causing you to cry out. He smirked, “Who knew how easy it was to get you to shut your mouth. You got nothing to say anymore, baby? Where’s my little wife who loves to run her mouth, huh? Where’s she gone?”

Please,” You mewled softly, arching your back from the mounting pleasure, his fingers curving upwards and brushing against all the right spots. His thumb expertly massaged your clit, as if he knew your body, knew exactly how it worked. As if this wasn’t the first time he was touching you down there. “Please, I just…”

Immediately, jimin pulled his fingers out of you, your pussy making a squelching sound – as if it was trying to keep his fingers inside you. The heightened pleasure you were feeling instantly died down, and you cried out in indignation, “Wh-What! No! Please!” You gripped his forearm, “Please!”

“You don’t deserve shit after that stunt you pulled earlier baby.” jimin said simply. His eyes trailed towards the three barely alive body's and on jungkook who was no doubt enjoying the show and then back at you. He sighed, his fingers, soaking with your juices, now absentmindedly playing with the lacy borders of your ruined nighty which now sat bunched up around your waist. “You ruined my meeting, sweetheart. And now, you’ve distracted me.”

You swallowed harshly when he took your hand, placing it on top of his clothed dick. God, he was so hard. Painfully hard.

" Clean up the mess jungkook, will you? " Jimin said standing up, straightening the creases he got over his trousers.

" Don't kill them yet, I want them alive. Move to basement and I'll be there shortly. " Jimin ordered jungkook and the boy nodded in response like a fucking robot. He too had no emotions no guilt in his eyes and body language. They all are beyond your imagination.

Your husband turned towards you and offered you a hand, " Come baby, you still got to learn so much. I'll make sure everything stays in your pea size brain. " Words took a few seconds to register in your mind. It's not the end, he still has so much in his mind. How will you survive this?

YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING IDEA.!

Taglist

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darkdemeter · 2 months ago

Note

Fem Child reader fluff platonic! War and Strife (reluctantly) have to leave S/O behind in Vulgrim (and fortunately Dis) hands when they have to depart in dangerous areas like poisonous places, always threatening him to care for her. They didn’t expect SAMAEL of all people to order Vulgrim to allow him to speak with the child. Intrigued that a human child had managed to make it through as well as the purity of her soul, Samael listened to her talk about her adventures with the Horsemen.

GUIDE HER WAY HOME V

◤✘DARKSIDERS REQUESTS | CATALOGUE (Platonic!) Strife and War x Female Child!Reader

NOTES ↳ If you cannot tell, I'm enjoying myself way too much writing for Guide Her Way Home, I'm just delving further into this marvellous storyline + its little side stories and game!hcs. Thank you so much anon for all the requested snippets thus far. WARNINGS❕ ↳ War and Strife being big, protective brothers over reader — funny and fluffy shenanigans ensue, reader is up to curious mischief — Vulgrim and Dis being that bickering uncle and aunt duo — Samael being omniscient and an info sponge to suit his agendas — I think that's it?

✎ 2.3k ────────────────────────

“Vulgrim, we’re trusting you with her. We are placing our trust in your… ahem, capable hands.”

“Horseman, not so much as a hair will be plucked from her head,” assures the demonic soul merchant, voice rasping easily that it sounds like hollow bones being rattled in a leather sack.

Strife’s chest rumbles with a deep, muffled growl emitting from him as he refrains from unholstering Mercy from his hip. Only stopped by the sound of your giggle, it is one that smooths the bristled nature of his protectiveness. You clammer over Strife’s shoulder until you find purchase on the bronze platform of War’s pauldron, hands clutching and smoothing the red fabric of his cowl in your grip before you slip down. War’s hands easily catch you before you can fall the considerable distance and he hands you off to Vulgrim.

“Vulgrim, we will hold you to those words. One hair, and your neck will meet my blade,” warns the stoic, hooded Horseman. Vulgrim tuts the dark, slimy tendril of his tongue. Quick to pass you off, he hands you into Dis’ care who sways about on the void’s ethereal buoyancy with a plump purse of her dark lips, lashes fluttering.

“Don’t you worry, Horsemen. She’ll be right and in one piece when you boys get back.”

“Riiight,” Strife huffs, unconvinced. He leans in closer to War to mutter, “I still think this is a bad idea.”

“We have no other choice, Strife. It’s far too dangerous to take her along.”

Sulking with dreaded defeat, Strife lowers himself to his knee, hand gracing your head with a tender pat. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” you say, voice tiny and pitched. Your palm lays flat on Strife’s mask with a small pat of your own and his shoulders jostle a little with a low chuckle.

Turning your head to War you then move to hug him, only for him to flinch. Immediately like the first drops of rain, a pout forms on the lines of your mouth and War internally reprimands himself. And so, to coax you to remain calm and happy, his own hand reaches out and you gladly accept it, hugging the massive chunk of metal fingers.

War may be silent with his sentiments and words, but when your eyes meet his with that enlarged fixation and kind smile, his brows fall lax and he nods silently, assuring.

“Be safe!” you call after them when they turn to leave you, waving your arm and bouncing on the small and worn padding of your boots. With that, you are left in the care of Vulgrim the Soul Eater and his “business associate”, Dis.

Your feet wander, Your destination unknown yet anything and everything, you are a curious force set loose. Running along the roughened stone of the void made manifest, Vulgrim and Dis are led around in a chase to keep you from venturing into that cauldron of bubbling acids and howling souls, or from toddling off the edge and into the murky abyss… or to prevent another serpent hole incident.

The threat of Chaoseater cleaving his head from his shoulders now becomes a daunting thought the more Vulgrim thinks on it.

“No, no! Bad child!” Vulgrim seethes when he sees you duck and weave between the many nooks and crannies. Damn the void…

“Dis, do something!” Like a snake poised with its fangs, Vulgrim’s patience runs thin and little, his clawed fingers always catching air instead of you as you continue to roam at will.

“You’re the one who took your eyes off of her.”

“Because I trusted that you would keep an eye on her. Look at her, she’s unleashing chaos!”

Dis frowns, browline anchored low with a shake of her head. All you were doing was trying to grasp at a mysterious talisman dangling off an ornamental hanger, bones tied and threaded to clatter gently together in the realm’s faint inky mists. Only to then become amused with the loosened knot of one of your boots.

“She’s a child, Vulgrim. For a demon spying on humans, you don’t know a lot about them—”

“Studying!” Vulgrim hisses in his resolve. Dis scoffs sharply. “Mm. That’s one way to put it…”

When Vulgrim finally scoops you up, he raises you to his eye level, eyes thin with a spiteful growl that seeps through his deformed and mangled maw. “Listen here, childling, you will obey and cease these antics this instant.”

Blinking, your mouth stretches into a wide smile that pushes deep into your cheeks. “Okay!”

It cannot be that easy, Vulgrim snorts through his nose like a beast relinquishing its tense breath. He all but shrugs you off, passing you to Dis who cradles you with all four arms.

A small noise catches in her throat, a humming chuckle.

“Don’t you listen to that bag of bones, lil’ baby. He’s just old and raggedy. Now come along with Mama Dis and let’s see what we have around here for you.”

Attempting to float away and forget all the transpiring problems, Vulgrim is stopped short and his skinless lips waver with a guttural, feral warble, glaring a thousand threats into Dis’ back.

Hours seem to pass by. You sit in the distant corner surrounded by stacks of old tomes, shelves stuffed with wilting, parchment scrolls. Propped up before you is a large grimoire that Dis had presented to you to keep you occupied. Of course, you didn’t comprehend the extremity of the words, mutely glossing over most of them and instead focusing on the illustrated inks of drawings when the words became too much.

Dis had assured the book was a fairytale after she checked with Vulgrim who, with a simple and dismissive wave over his turned shoulder, said the grimoire was harmless. However, it was something more than that. It told of prophecies and ancient times that stretched across the cosmos. The stars, you gasped aloud with astonished wonder.

And because your attention was taken with the large book that sat propped up, far too heavy to merely sit in your lap, Dis had left you to your own devices. Meanwhile, Vulgrim grouched about his realm, tending to whatever matters a demon of his trade did.

The warming tint of glowing candlelight dances faintly behind you, your shadow hovering against the old parchment pages. Your hands curl along the page edge and with a small, heaved grunt, you turn it over to the next.

Daggerish font blends with the grey tones and washed out allure of the illustration that covers the entirety of the pages, your eyes and fingers move along to pronounce each word.

“Then… came the time of… the Nepp— Nepffilim…”

Your gaze wanders away from the words only to widen, glistening with the dancing glee of starlight, a gurgling coo sings from your enlightened and pure heart, soul innocence shining within you like a bright ball of light; and all because you recognise two familiar guardians within the drawing. You don’t notice the way the void shivers and rumbles around you, seemingly disrupted.

Nor do you realise, for how could you, the flaming orbs of eyes sparked with kindled intrigue.

With a squeal you leap forward onto your knees, palms flush against the pages as you muse, laughing and babbling. “Strwife! Wawr!”

You thought they returned in a way, that in seeing them here somehow meant they were back from whatever voyage they could not take you on this time. But then your brows curl down, furrowing in the bevelled middle when you realise that much like the stone walls and rocks of your home, they were just drawings.

Your head tilts with a confused, quiet hum and you begin to turn the next page only to not find them there. So you let the sheet of parchment fall back down with a softened flap.

That’s when you notice the lack of company around you. Right then, you decide to change that. You stand on your feet and with all your might, you grab hold of the grimoire and tug, the ominous and loud thud of it falling off its holder bounds off with a bold, resounding echo.

Grunting and sighing with exerted efforts, your hands clutch hard as you begin to pull the grimoire with you from that corner, around the bends of books stacked on high and make your way through the fragmented platforms. To do so is no easy feat, often you have to stop to look around yourself before finally, you reach where Vulgrim and Dis bicker with one another by the bubbling cauldron.

They hold their tongues at the sight of you shuffling towards them, face set hard in your concentration to drag the book with you as you then settle at their side, huffing as you let the side you clung to drop.

“Dis…” Vulgrim rumbles low, tone teetering on the verge of his last sanity. When she makes a noise in return, he all but jabs a finger that sounds with chinking metal of rings in motion to the grimoire you’re reading. Dis’ eyes blow wide open.

“Oh! Ahh, sweetie, let me take that uh, book for a moment.”

Though you mean to protest by the way your hands shoot out for the taken book, you simply nod in understanding. Obviously, they did not want you to read or observe its contents, and like the good child that you were brought up to be, you obeyed diligently.

Vulgrim presses to his brow a shaken cluster of fingers that rap and tap at his clothed temple, scratching down the dirtied brown of his horn. “The Horsemen will kill me— why did you give her that grimoire?”

Head tracking back and forth between them, you watch silently.

“Me?! Ugh, the nerve of you, you grotesque bag of Belial’s sh…” With a moment to calm her erratic and feral hissing that blew the pinkish flame of her head brighter, she sighs and calmly states her defense. “You told me that the grimoire was a safe fairytale.”

“Look at where we are! Nothing here is safe for a human child—”

“Enough!”

The misted blacks that writhe and interweave in flowing paths stutter, shocked under the consuming bellow of a roar that comes from someplace above. Your head moves about in order to locate where the booming voice came from.

“Vulgrim, bring the child to me. I wish to speak with her.”

Sputtering, choking on such a command, Vulgrim whines with a forced inflection. “But, Samael—”

“Now…”

The merchant is all but forced to comply, unable to deny such an esteemed power his wish. Picking you up, Vulgrim brings you to the platform above. Once there and in the presence of Hell’s prince, Vulgrim turns with a slight tilt of his chin as if to bow his head. Samael twitches a finger in indication and the demon trader complies, setting you down on your feet again.

This platform is one you have not seen before, your eyes are momentarily drawn to the edge and your lips form into a cautious ‘o’ before you turn back to Samael who sits upon a rubble mound of a make-shift throne.

He leans forward with an elbow pressed to his knee, tail draped lazily by his side and with a tilt of his head, his mouth parts into a fanged grin.

“Come closer, my child.”

Curious, the small nub of your nose scrunches and you approach him, almost eager to meet another potential friend. Vulgrim sees that you harbour no direct fear, not until you get closer to the demon prince.

You stop, a quiet breath leaving you as a gasp while your wide eyes blink up at Samael. “I have been made aware of your presence. I’ve never had the chance to meet such a kind soul. Tell me, what is your name?”

Announcing your name to him, he hums with a small nod, repeating it. “I am pleased to meet your acquaintance, little one. I am Samael.”

“Hello Sama-el!” You greet with a wave that moves from your elbow.

His eyes burn like wavering flames with a million questions. Just how exactly did you pass through a serpent hole? With Earth shrouded in secrecy, it’s a case that baffles the greatest of minds. The blinding light that surrounds and envelopes you from within shines brightly and Vulgrim’s eyes are forced to shrink from it. He slowly lowers a hand to you and you take it. He is careful to place you at his side, settled on a stone block and his body shifts so that he can see you better.

“So you are the one the Horsemen found,” he says, voice a low drawl and thick with heat that bellows from the furnace of his gullet. “It must have been scary wandering out there on your own. You’re very fortunate to have met the Horsemen.”

You nod with a small hum, eyes twinkling slightly at the mention of them. “Uh huh.”

With a wave of his hand, crafty unto a magician’s hand that slights trick from thin air, he procures a glassy object. Your attention is taken immediately, eyes trailing after the crystal ball as it merely glides and rolls over his hand and into his palm, balancing with intricate ease.

“Do you like it? It’s yours.” He hands it to you and your small hands grasp hold of it. He watches, intrigued while you study the orb closely. You raise it to your eye and you sigh audibly, mesmerised by the white flecks that slowly drift within it. Your memories are faint, a slight blur but you remember watching the specks of snow fall from the sky, marvelling at the chilling beauty. Your time of playing in the cold blankets in your village is distantly fond.

“Do you enjoy travelling with the Horsemen?”

“Uh huh! I do!” You beam a wide, innocent smile and that aura shimmers around you. Samael rubs his chin with leisure, thinking… scheming.

“I’d love to hear about your tales with them.”

Giddiness bubbles in your belly, happy to regale him with the many stories you have to share about your adventures with Strife and War. He is quiet, attentively listening and piece by piece, the pure nature of your soul — your honesty — plays right into his hand, hinting at insightful weaknesses of the Horsemen.

#STRIFE SEPTEMBER #headlinesxcomics publishing #happyfic hour #darksiders #darksiders genesis #darksiders strife #darksiders war #darksiders x reader #platonic darksiders strife x reader #platonic darksiders war x reader

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scarletknightreterns · 4 months ago

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Brutally Honest- Darksiders

“Brother, she is ill beyond our knowledge. We cannot take care of her.” War was not kind about it, either. The words came off as cold, merciless without any restraints latched onto whatever morality he had in his heart. Complete and utter ‘survival of the fittest’ driving his choices. The only issue was, he couldn’t fathom why his brother lacked the same conviction to leave the woman in the dust of her ill-begotten state and just, move on?

It got the strong killed when they allowed emotions of pity or compassion to leave them lingering by the bed of someone who only would tear them down and bring about misfortune. If the buzzards did not get to her first, her sickness would. Whatever it was... it festered and writhed in her body like a plague growing in stale waters, overrunning her health and dragging it literally through the mud. The only question was, how long until it came after them next through contagion?

She hardly had any strength, yet it was a miracle alone she still breathed. And this realm had no trace of heaven nor did any heavenly influence have any BUSINESS being here.

War could, within the moment, acknowledge that she was a fighter. But the odds were against her.

So then, why did Death put a cold cloth on her sweaty, pale forehead, her breathing so shallow and body so weak not even her subconscious could register the act of kindness?

To War’s honest opinion, it seemed as though Death ‘cared’ about the woman. Extended his hand, heart, and attention to ANOTHER person who was NOT apart of their family, yet he called her as one; apparent, by his actions alone.

“I will not abandon her, not after all she’s done, and put herself through, for our sakes. The very least we can do to return the favour, is help her,” Death’s eyes were cold as steel in their warm orange glow. Mind made up and unable to be swayed otherwise, they stared at War like a warning looming in the night. “Even if she does not recover... she at least won’t be alone or abandoned.”

Over by the bed’s cold and vacant edge was the second youngest of the siblings, Fury, watching her brothers both bicker at one another because of this woman who one of them singlehandedly took her care into his palms.

She was confused because she thought they had ALL viewed Cinder the same way by now; as family. She was angry because Cinder was sick and they didn’t know why or how. And she was scared because she didn’t WANT Cinder to leave them behind. To go someplace else where they couldn’t reach her.

“She... is going to wake up again, right..?”

The innocent question, painted with a completely normal and reasonable amount of fear, caught Death’s attention almost immediately. The pale one looked over at the small sibling standing there, her silver eyes so big and found, filled with a heart-wrenching amount of concern and questions.

He found the kind answer evaded him, avoided every grasp of his fingers.

All Death wanted was to tell her that, yes, the woman would be alright, ease those fears away, but he found only a bitter reply slipt past his lips, one that tasted wrong across his tongue, “I do not know...”

Honest words hurt sometimes.

And the way Fury’s face twisted into anger and anguish, before she scampered out of the room, hurt Death more then any rusty-edged blade through his heartless chest. If he could take back those words, he would, but he was brutally honest.

Even he did not know.

—

Just a little angsty thing I wanted to get off my mind before I lost it :P

#darksiders fury #Darksiders #darksiders oc #darksiders death #darksiders war #Fury and Strife are kids in this one ok?#War is older then strife and fury #dont really know why #its what my friend chose for the RP we are doing

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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months ago

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Light on the Darkside - Chapter Two.

Thanks to everyone who was kind enough to read, reblog and offer such nice commentary on the first chapter. I hope very much to hear from some of my so far silent readers, too. Your commentary matters. I understand that the first chapter wasn't an easy read, but this one is much less bleak as we get to know James a little better, and also introduce Ella. Oh, just as a reminder, with this being set in 1997, you'll find I use British slang words of that time. If anyone is unclear, just ask me!

Previous chapters - One

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,174

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

Moor Acres Care Facility. It sounded very proper from the outset, and looked the furthest thing from a mental hospital. Set in an old, converted mansion sold off by an aristocratic family who had gone into financial ruin over two hundred years ago, it had been converted into an asylum prior to being brought up to modern standards as a mental health facility. Apparently, it was the best and the safest in Warwickshire.

Each ward wasn’t truly a ward like in any other hospital, but instead made up of many single dwelling rooms, men on the top floor, women on the bottom. James was to reside in the young adult wing of the unit, housing people aged between 18 and 25 years old. Truly, they could have sequestered him in a shed upon the sprawling grounds and it wouldn’t have bothered him. Nothing much did for a person who didn’t want to be anywhere at all.

He wasn’t truly in a fit state to listen to what an orderly who met him upon arrival began to explain, being as drugged up to the eyeballs at he was. He’d given them no choice, having proven he couldn’t be trusted not to be restrained and sedated, attempting to escape the hospital prior to his transfer to the facility. A male nurse had ended up with a broken nose for it, so he was still considered a high-risk patient for violent outbursts and thus being taken firstly to the high dependency ward.

He would be monitored regularly while administered with various cocktails of medication in order to try and bring his violent streak down and his mood up, all while juggling the fact that he remained in a deeply suicidal state. He’d been beyond lucky, by all accounts, to have been found so quickly and the substantial amount of drugs he’d taken not do any lasting damage to his system, having vomited a good amount of them onto the bathroom floor.

Mentally, the first doctor to have assessed him had been right, his diagnosis clinical depression, explaining his overall feeling of hopelessness and hollowness, coupled with the bouts of anger and overwhelming urge to resort to suicide.

Until he began to show signs of calming down, he was doped up firstly on Lithium to keep his aggression under control, the doctors altering the dose after the first three weeks when he began to settle more between doses. Those weeks were a blur of feeling high as a kite, or so drowsy he slept for anything up to fifteen hours a day. For someone who loved to sleep, that wasn’t much of an issue, though.

Sleep, drugs, whacked out zombification, sleep, food he wasn’t much in the mood for, sleep, drugs. Day in, day out. When his family came to see him for the first time, it was an awful sight to witness.

Alan, Carole and Sam sat at the table in a small, private visiting room, watching as an orderly led James out, his arms no longer bandaged, but a pair of restraints still present upon his wrists. He looked like a ghost, a shell of his former self, Sam gulping as she looked into the same grey of her brother’s eyes she shared. No light was left in them at all.

“Hello, kidda. How you feeling, eh?” Alan spoke, swallowing down an uncomfortable lump in his throat.

James glanced up, his lip twitching, the muscles in his shoulder jumping. He blinked a few times, looking down at the table. He knew they were there, but it was as if he was sitting in the middle of a fish tank, with them on the other side of the glass. Everything was muted. Even his response to them.

“Excuse me, excuse me!” Oh, yes. Carole was on form. “Can I speak to a doctor over why my son is sitting here unable to recognise us? We’re supposed to be here to support him. He doesn’t even know who we are!”

“Carole, calm down. This isn’t helping, petal,” Alan advised, wrapping his arm around a visibly distressed Sam. It had been against his better judgement to bring her, too, but god, how she’d bent his ear in insistence to come and see her big brother. They might have fought like cat and dog while he still lived at home, but they adored each other beneath it.

“And neither is our son sitting there like a zombie!” she spoke, gesticulating with an outstretched arm. “He’s flippin’ twitching and dribbling on himself, for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s the Lithium,” the orderly supervising advised with nonchalance. “Makes ‘em twitch. He’ll be alright in a minute, his last dose is wearing off a bit but we have to keep him on it at a certain level, in case he gets violent.”

Carole wasn’t having any of that, rising from her seat and demanding to have a doctor brought down, Alan standing too in an attempt to calm the situation. While her parents were over by the door, Sam pulled the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her hand, reaching across the table and drying the little bubble of dribble that gathered at the corner of her brother’s mouth, sniffing hard.

She said nothing as she rose from her seat, moving to him and ducking under his arms, seating herself on his lap and wrapping him in a hug. Eventually, he leaned against her, the familiar scent of her body spray seeming to pull him from his fog a little. It jolted a memory in his brain.

“You and that fucking crap! You smell like a prostitute’s bra!”

“Oh yeah, Jimbo. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Only women you can get are ones you have to pay.”

“Gobby dickhead. You ain’t funny, skin.”

“I am! Just like your face!”

Jimbo and skin. Skin as in skin and blister, the rhyming slang for sister, and Jimbo just because it was a play on his name. They rarely referred to one another as Sam or James.

“I know I shout at you, steal your fags and clip your wallet chain to things so you get stuck, but I hate seeing you like this,” she sniffed, her tears wetting the top of his head, his brown roots showing from where the black dye was growing out.

“Excuse me, no contact with the patient, please,” the orderly called, in between trying to fend off Carole and have a reasonable conversation with Alan as they waited for the doctor to arrive.

“Oh, piss off! He’s my brother and he needs a hug!”

“He’s a violence risk, come away,” he spoke, Sam glaring as she hung onto James tighter.

“No. You might control him but you don’t tell me what to do!”

“Gobby dickhead.”

No. The orderly hadn’t stepped over the mark in retort. That was the slurred whisper of her brother, his eyes finally focusing as he looked up at her. “Alright, skin.”

She began to giggle, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Alright, Jimbo. What the shit have they given you, elephant tranqs?”

He hummed a little. “Feels like it.” Tightening his arms around her, he hugged her close, Sam feeling relieved as her tears diminished. Her brother always gave the best hugs. As for James, it was a small slice of comfort he sorely needed.

He might not have ever said it out loud often, but he adored his sister to her bones. If one wanted to date Sam Kingston, he was very much the looming threat if she was mistreated. Her first boyfriend had discovered that the hard way, ending up having his own skateboard wrapped around his head by an irate James after she’d confided to him that Luke, the boy in question, had cheated on her.

Stroking his hair, she kissed his forehead, giggling more when he pinched her waist, the place she couldn’t bear to be touched. “Stop it! Such a knob.”

“Mm.” He went back into himself a little there, resting his head beneath her chin, Sam looking over to where the doctor had arrived.

“Please don’t tell me to move. I just want to hug him and he’s alright. He’s talking and stuff, not much, but he’s alright.”

The doctor nodded, pointing at them with his pen as he turned to the orderly. “Go and oversee, just in case.” While he spoke with their parents, the orderly moved over to stand close by, Sam giving him a disapproving look, James not bothered by his presence as he attempted to engage his brain enough to speak more.

“How’s college?”

“A big pile of wank!”

“Chris Benson... is a top grade twat, innit?”

She barked a laugh, throwing her head back. Yes, the director of the same sixth form he’d taken his A levels at too truly was just that. “He is, though! So, how are you feeling? Steve took me out for a pint the other day, said to say hello and not to hate him cos’ you probably do.”

That hatred had diminished slightly, he had to concede. “M’alright. Feel like I’m in a fish tank. Bit fuzzy, like.” He then hummed a little laugh. “Tell Steve... he’s a wanker. But... I love him.”

Shaking with her soft giggles, she stroked his hair lovingly. He was still in there somewhere, beyond the veil of drugs, beyond the depression that had led him into being sectioned. “I will, Jimbo.”

He remained coherent enough to have a small chat with his parents once they’d finished talking to the doctor, their hour-long visit ending all too soon, Sam crying again as she hugged him goodbye.

“Love you, dickhead.”

“Love you too, skin.”

Carole and Alan beamed at one another over that little interaction, the latter proud of his wife that she held it together for long enough to hug her son tightly, only bursting into tears and crying against his chest when they’d reached the car park.

His doctor saw the visit as clear progress, but lamentably his patient began to slip again fairly quickly. Once again, his dosages were upped until James began to even out a little more. Clearly it was not conducive for a long-term solution, though, monitoring him closely and eventually adjusting him so he would be able to leave high dependency and continue his stay on the regular ward.

Sertraline was the first he was tried on, but the side effects proved to be worse than the benefits of the treatment, those swiftly exchanged for a combination of Celexa and Lorazepam. He felt even worse for two weeks following the change, but at least he was no longer in restraints.

That was until he managed to get a hold of a coffee mug, smash it and attempt to cut his throat on the shards of porcelain. It had taken three orderlies to bring him down and restrain him again, James being carried off to be stitched whilst covered in blood and laughing.

“It doesn’t work! None of it fucking works! Just let me die, fucks sake!”

“Not happening on my watch, pet,” Mary, the one nurse strong and capable enough to treat him unassisted spoke, moving out of the way of where his hand was bound, save him from scratching her. He had a tendency for that. “Eee now, lie still. Goodness, James. You’ve got the most beautiful skin and you’re ruining it with all these scars!”

“I like to think they add to my character. Mister Jigsaw.”

She peered over her bifocals at him. “You’re not funny, sweetheart. Now, lie still or you’ll be knocked out again. I’m giving you the choice most others wouldn’t.”

He had to respect that, he supposed. Out of all the staff, he actually liked Mary best. Mostly that was because she knew who Black Sabbath were and in his more lucid moments, she would come and discuss the band who had served as such a big influence to him. It made having no access to music a little more bearable.

After that attempt, he was once again closely monitored, his medications tinkered with, a balance seeming to be struck in making him amiable enough not to be restrained, but not so dopey that he slept all day or sat there zoned out and dribbling. Unlike a lot of horror stories over mental health facilities, the staff truly did want to treat the conditions of their patients rather than leave them in a vegetative state. The practises of the turn of the century truly were long condemned to history in that respect.

“Right, your mum dropped off some clothes for you. No belts or shoelaces, obviously. She’s brought you some books and magazines, too.”

“Music?” he questioned. She knew he would.

“No, James. CD’s can be broken and used as a sharp. The last thing we want is you ripping yourself to bits again. Right, let’s see how you fare on your own. Checks are every fifteen minutes. Don’t let us down, pet.”

As soon as Mary and her warm, Geordie lilt had closed the heavy door, he was out of the hospital gown he’d lived in and into his own clothes in a flash, feeling much more comfortable in the washed-out pair of ripped jeans and the well-worn band t shirt he pulled on, that particular one championing Mayhem, one of his favourites.

Flinging himself down on the bed, he took a deep breath, slowly exhaling through his nose. He felt a lot clearer than he had in a long time, but still not right. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t sad. It was simply in a state of being. Still, if somebody had handed him a knife, he knew he would have done what he’d set out to do two months prior. The bleakness was a haunting void within him, only marginally closed by the administration of medications to treat it.

Not happy, not sad, just there. Existing. Life in limbo, an exiled hiatus, high as a kite or asleep. There was no real in between and when there was, he felt like hell.

“Would you say you felt much improvement in your overall mood since your arrival, James?”

“Nah.”

“Absolutely nothing at all in quelling those suicidal thoughts?”

“Nah. Well, kinda.”

“Can you offer an elaboration?”

“Nah.”

No, he wasn’t the easiest of patients to treat during his therapy sessions either, choosing to zone out for most of them. “Do you feel there is anything further we could do to benefit you while under our care?”

“Let me go out for a smoke?”

Dr. Beaumont shook her head. “I’m afraid grounds privileges are yet to be on offer to you.”

She was fixed with a very hard stare in the wake of such. “Why? Ain’t tried to dropkick anyone lately, or off myself again. Total bullshit, this is.”

“Indeed, you have not. We must give it longer before you are trusted, though. You are still considered a violence risk, even though no longer restrained. Little steps, James.”

He didn’t even try to hide the snort of contempt. “What about music? Can I at least have my CD player, or a guitar? I miss playing.”

That was positive for the doctor to hear. He’d made no mention of a desire to participate in anything that brought him joy in prior sessions. Alas, she had to let him down. “Not until we are fully confident over your ongoing stability. A guitar can be weaponised, strings pose a hanging risk. CD’s when broken pose a sharps risk and the last thing we want is for you to revert into self-harm.”

“Top grade fucking rubbish.”

“Now, James. Enough of that. I am prepared to meet you halfway, though. You may access the common room and socialise, although of course it will be under heavy supervision. Orderlies are present at all times. We allow the television to be on there, the radio, too.”

Another snort. “Ain’t gonna be playing anything I like to watch or listen to though, innit?”

Oh, yes. He was a difficult one. Clarice Beaumont had treated far worse in her forty years working within the mental health sector, though. “It’s perhaps better than being sequestered to your room, James. I’ve met you halfway here, please do give a little back in gratitude.”

“Yeah, fair comment,” he smirked, his long form rising from his seat. “Thanks, doc.” The orderly waiting for him took him back upstairs to the ward, just as another was accompanying the next patient down to Dr. Beaumont’s office. They passed one another by without noticing each other, both stuck in their own private hell.

“Good morning, Ella,” the doctor began brightly, the frail girl taking a seat. “How are you feeling today?”

“Fat.”

Yes, she often did, despite the fact she only weighed a miniscule 89lbs. It was a vast improvement on what she had weighed though, when admitted to the eating disorder unit at just five stone and three pounds. A stone of weight was a brilliant achievement, albeit administered through a tube directed into a port in her stomach.

Since the removal of the port, it had been tricky to continue keeping weight on her, Ella often in tears and fits of anxiety over consuming something as simple as a sandwich. She’d pick at it, wail, complain that the cheese was too fatty, fling the food across the room and generally break down in a desperate, hyperventilating mess.

While her anxiety was kept in check with medication, her therapy in trying to open her eyes to the fact she was emaciated was taking much longer to prove beneficial. Just like her last patient had been in his own way, Ella was just as dismissive.

“Have you had breakfast this morning?”

“Yes, a little bit.”

“And what did you have?”

“Cheerios.”

“Oh, now you mentioned you like those before. Did you enjoy them?”

“No. Chris made me have whole milk with them and I felt sick. I still feel sick now. I said I’d prefer skimmed milk, but she never bleedin’ listens to me. Whole milk is minging!”

As ever, she was calorie counting. You could ask Ella for the exact number of calories in any type of food and she could usually tell you to the exact number, such was her fastidious predisposition to count everything she consumed. Upon arrival, she’d been restricting herself hugely. An apple, a peach and a can of Diet Coke were all she existed on daily. If she was made to eat anything else, the meal would find itself expelled into a toilet bowl very quickly afterwards.

“We have discussed your calorie counting as your form of control, Ella. Perhaps we should go deeper into that in today’s session.” The young woman before her merely chewed on her thumb, her leg shaking back and forth with irritation.

It was about to be another painstakingly long session for Dr. Beaumont, trying to reach a patient who truly had no desire to heal. Both Ella and James had that very much in common.

#original fiction #original stories #original story #romance fiction #smutty fic #romance stories #romance #tw: depression #tw: suicide #tw: anorexia

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