#in fact i even said that the fact they helped each other was extremely important and beneficial for both of them

[xxcrystalinerose]

Going back to Zag's romantic relationships from Mel is extremely hilarious to me because of how comparatively well-adjusted he was.

Sure he done fucked up with Meg in the past and they had to kill each other as part of the job description, his sudden leaving seriously hurt Than while also having communication issues w/ each other, and there's the matter of Dusa being a lowly servant of the House. But in the end, he sorted everything out with 0 grievances from all parties involved (that one dialogue where Than admits Meg is the one who tells him to finally pursue Zag seriously warms my heart). Got the Mom(s) Seal of Approval™ even, and from Achilles too!

Meanwhile I look at Melinoë and she has a frankly criminal amount of situationships. Her rizz level is insane and she goes straight for the throat when flirting yet somehow her dating life is simultaneously a mess and nonexistent. Nemesis regularly kicks her into the dirt verbally AND physically but is the only person to acknowledge how fucked up it is that Mel is sent out alone in the hopes of killing an all powerful Titan that took SIX gods to kill in the past. "Fuck you and fuck your stupid frog in particular" then turns around and gives free Death Defiances. Her and Moros try to flirt with each other but they kept missing the mark because sometimes one of them says something totally unhinged like it was normal (I don't think watching people die is an appropriate bathtime conversation topic, my man). Her and Eris are a hot mess—literally with all those rounds she shot at Mel AND without a basis of workplace professionalism. Icarus is one shot nerve away from accidentally proclaiming his undying (literally) love to her but his guilt complex is hanging on to that nerve. And then there's Arachne and her not so little crush warring with the fact that said crush is family with and is helping the gods who cursed her.

Never have I realized how important it is that Zag has become a minor god of relationship counselling until I look at his baby sister and think, "yeah girl you definitely need help for all that shit".

[somewhereincairparavel]

Annabeth Chase and Jason Grace - two sides of the same coin, an analysis post.

after a long wait, I've finally posted my analysis on jason/annabeth being similar, and mirroring eachother as rivals/potential sibling figures more than percy/jason's 'bro rivalry', based on this post of mine which has crossed over a THOUSAND notes in the last week alone, and I've been getting so many reblogs and comments asking me to expand on my tags in that post and do a full analysis. so here it is. I've been procrastinating this for quite a while now for some reason but I'm glad I'm over my writer's block and I got to articulate my post well enough.

annabeth and jason have had very minor interactions throughout hoo, but the parallels and similarities in their character is jarringly noticeable, which is why I hoped for a jason/annabeth rivalry and not a percy/jason rivalry. they've both been raised at their respective camps since they were literal kids, they were well versed in their respective fields of knowledge, and were well respected/intimidated in their camps.

let's start off with the lost hero

when jason first meets annabeth, he says that her eyes were really intimidating and fierce, so right off the bat, we have jason who's pretty put off by annabeth because she very obviously looked angry, especially since she was frustrated about jason's arrival instead of percy, and looked like she could kill jason to get percy back.

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

this parallels to a lot when hazel kept going on about how difficult it was to warm up to jason because his eyes were always calculating and cold, and he gave off an untrustworthy vibe, that he'd sacrifice anyone for the sake of the mission.

both annabeth and jason have a certain similar ‘look’ in their eyes, which have nothing to do with the color. they both have the tendency to make people nervous simply with their eyes, because they always look like they're thinking of new things every few seconds. Ironically, jason first perceived annabeth, the way everyone else perceived him. scary and intimidating with an icy glare and hardened eyes.

They were both said to be ‘studying’ each other in distrust many times throughout. A part of why they didn't trust each other, was, in my opinion, because they embodied their least favorite shared personality trait of each other, secretiveness and guardedness. which is why annabeth got on so well with percy, and jason with leo/piper.

they didn't admire the closed off-ish vibe that they gave eachother. they both needed people who were open and carefree.annabeth said that jason looked like he knew too much information, but chose to keep it all a secret, very similar to her own guardedness from time to time, keeping it a secret and wanting to deal with it silently.

we also know that annabeth and jason are extremely knowledgeable in greek/roman mythology, they both love debates and were quite passionate about history. they were both assigned architecture projects by the gods themselves as a mark of honor and favour.

moving on to the next most important point, they reminded eachother of the people they missed, causing them to feel resentful.

jason, barely met his sister after they reunited. he was bitter when thalia said he had to go look for percy to help out annabeth with the search. he was aware that thalia and annabeth were childhood friends, getting closer to eachother than jason and thalia ever did. she found a home in luke and annabeth, not even a few months after baby jason was thought to be ‘dead’, that knowledge would've weighed a lot on jason. annabeth became the sibling to thalia grace that jason could never be.

while annabeth? the only thing annabeth thought of, after jason had a face off with his mother's remnant in boo, was the fact that jason, who looks eerily similar to luke, could've experienced the exact same fate as him. luke was jason if he had more wrath and held grudges, jason was luke if he had less anger and resentment. annabeth could connect the dots so easily, and that was truly the moment where she gained immense respect for him.

and, when jason told annabeth that his sister was thalia? she had a very odd sort of expression on her face.

annabeth also quotes that looking at jason made her feel bitter, because he reminded her of heras exchange, and the fact that she lost percy for months. whenever she looked at jason, she would only see her two childhood friends, a found family that was broken, and a love that was challenged.

whenever jason looked at annabeth, he would be reminded that thalia had a closer contact to her than she did jason, and had to accept that he would never know thalia as much as annabeth does.

annabeth and jason also appear very confident and sure of themselves, but have second thoughts all the time. they had to put on a fake facade, to live up to their expectations and lineage.

they were both also sort of people pleasers, annabeth couldn't really say no to anyone who asked her for help with things, like carrying the sky for luke especially, because not only where they giving her a chance to execute her knowledge and skill, the thought of helping someone made her genuinely happy. jason also loved seeing people happy, always wanting to say the right thing to satisfy someone, even if it meant he had to sacrifice his own struggles to help them.

fatal flaws:

annabeth’s fatal flaw, is hubris. when you are confident and sure that you can do something, and have a sense of excessive self pride.

and jason's fatal flaw is the temptation to deliberate. hesitation and second guessing, to put it in simpler words.both fatal flaws are so different, yet so similar, and they have both flaws, just in a different viewpoint.

as a child of athena, annabeth appears super confident and even conceding at times because of her wisdom, but at the same time, annabeth had to make sure she was one step ahead of everyone. she had to rethink everything and had to have a plan in her mind all the time, fearing that things wouldn't go smoothly.

she had to hesitate and second guess herself alot, despite her knowledge, like she did when she knew she had to look for the mark of athena. piper and percy had to boost up her confidence with affirmations, to let her know she's on the right path and to just follow her gut. annabeth feels obligated to have a temptation to deliberate, because, as a child of athena, she has to be all knowing and wise, and most definitely cannot fail her mother.

and jason? despite having a very low sense of self esteem and hesitation, he was so used to leading the people who were considered slightly inferior to him in camp jupiter, and basically getting treated like a celebrity for 12 years of his life in camp jupiter, that often, he thought what he did was right, he had his own perception of what a hero should be, and I quote

[“No, no,” Jason said. “I made my choice. You’re not to blame. You don’t owe me anything except to remember what I said. Remember what’s important.” “You’re important,” I said. “Your life!”Jason tilted his head. “I mean… sure. But if a hero isn’t ready to lose everything for a greater cause, is that person really a hero?”He weighted the word person subtly, as if to stress it could mean a human, a faun, a dryad, a griffin, a pandos… even a god”- Tower of Nero]

which was normal, since he had everyone basically following his lead without question as a kid. he's expanded on this in his conversation with piper in mark of athena, where he said he felt weird to suddenly be around people who were either equal/or superior to him in power, and not being in the ‘lead’ particularly.

jason had hubris, but certainly not in a way that you would call it an ego or excessive pride. he was hardwired and brainwashed into having his own perception of what is right and what is wrong, that he thought he was always making good enough decisions, at least from a roman child soldier’s standpoint. [Like when he was okay with not saving nico because it might sabotage their mission, he genuinely didn't think what he said was insensitive until hazel called him out, because he was brought up that way. he thought he was doing the right thing, by prioritising the mission and the duty, first. Like the dutiful roman he was made to be].

both annabeth and jason, have hubris and a temptation to deliberate.

annabeth and jason, also had an extremely difficult time breaking free from the thoughts that their godly parents were always right. It took on alot of disappointments for both of them to stand up to their parents (and not just godly ones, mind you)

they've both had disappointing absent mortal and godly parents with a hostile stepmother involved and monitored with each and every one of their moves. annabeth has had to deal with her stepmother playing the ‘bad cop’ with her father not even coming to her defence, just the way hera came butting into jason's life and giving him terrible memories, taking him away from thalia, with zeus not even caring.

speaking of which, they are both the only demigods who have harboured the most amount of resentment for hera. just the sight of hera pisses them both off, as it hera, stripped off so much time away from annabeth and percy, and memories from jason, which he never permanently got back.

this is sort of irrelevant but I'll add this anyway, in boo, athena also immediately liked jason for calling out zeus's unfairness to apollo, saying something like 'the boy is right' and she gave him an approving/appreciative look for his wisdom, which is pretty rare for athena to say or do to literally any demigod ever. this makes me wonder if she ever saw jason as someone who had some sort of athena legacy in him, which is why she was so pleasantly surprised with him. ugh we could've so gotten jason and annabeth as potential sibling figures bc of how many parallels they have, too bad that the percy/jason rivalry narrative was pushed too hard.

I hope I've drawn enough parallels with their characters, as a lot of you have been looking forward to this post for a while, hopefully this analysis hasnt been underwhelming for you all to read!

@thevoidcaller @karmaajr @onestorytorulethemall @newlyfoundwren @thesummerstorms

[lemurchick]

Another 'wonderful news' from Russia for your consideration! This week, the BRICS forum on traditional values took place in Moscow. And it was fucking insane.

In short, the opening meeting was BRICS countries representatives verbally jerking off on how well they oppress or plan to oppress their people especially women. The only person who bothered to contradict this narrative was Egyptian female writer Doha Mustafa Assy.

I will translate some quotes from the russian article. https://www.kommersant.ru/doc/7311174

Russia: "At some point the roles for women have begun to change towards independence and self-sufficiency. We, of course, love and respect our women very much, but we want them to pay more attention to their families, men and children. We do not want them to strive for business, politics, economics, power, or culture. <...> The main traditional value is the preservation of natural purpose, where a woman continues the family line and a man inspires her to give birth to children."

Pakistan: "Any traditional religion upholds and promotes social values and traditions. No father would want to harm his family. No mother would want to break up or disintegrate her family. This <rejection of family values> is deliberately imposed on us and promoted by some power circles”

Ethiopia: "In our country it is traditionally women who do the cooking, teaching children and other family duties. So the man's role is not as big as the woman's, and this tradition gives the man the freedom to behave like a child." (?????)

Uganda: [This country experience is “extremely important to the discussion of legislative protection of religious values,” emphasized russian politician Dmitry Kuznetsov, referring to the fact that in Uganda same-sex relations are prohibited, and in some cases violators face life imprisonment or even the death penalty.] “We did this to make sure that the country would be preserved. I would encourage countries to behave in such a way that the culture that exists in each country is not imposed on others.” btw Brazil and South Africa representatives didn't say a word here even though their countries legalized same-sex mafrriage years ago.

Brazil: "Marriage in no longer a goal for our citizens and the country has the highest divorce rate in history. Meanwhile, children are most often left with their mothers, with fathers unwilling to take part in their upbringing. As a result, many Brazilian boys are growing up without a father figure and 9% of male inmates in prisons don't even know their father's name. Shifting the balance in favor of women leads to the fact that the position of feminism is growing, and the number of people who identify as LGBT people is growing.” At the end of his speech, he marveled, “This is my first time in Russia, and I didn't know you guys were so conservative. I'm so happy, it's so impressive!” He also admitted that “the people of Brazil know nothing about Russia,” and Dmitry Kuznetsov promised: “We will come to you and tell you all about our saving conservatism.”

Egypt: As I mentioned in the beginning the only person who actively argued against this trend was Doha Mustafa Assy. She said: "We on the contrary has a struggle against patriarchy. Tradition and religion are not on women's side, they help men. A lot of women in Egypt ask for divorce only because they feel like slaves at home. He (the husband) has the right not to let her leave the house according to tradition. BRICS is India, it's China, it's Russia, it's Egypt. We are very different. And maybe what you are trying to do in Russia has already became a problem for us”.

To be honest I don't know what will come out of this forum. Maybe it's just empty posturing, maybe BRICS countries just sent people who had free time on their hand here as a formality. But I despair reading these quotes; twenty years ago we sent a singing duet posing as lesbians to Eurovision; ten years ago I was watching lesbian drama Blue Is the Warmest Colour in a full theater. Soviet Union gave women some attempt in an equal rights in fucking 1917 and we were the first country to send a woman in space. What happened? How has it turned this way? We are now friends with some of the most patriarchal countries in the world and with fucking North Korea. They are planning to remove the Taliban's terrorist status.

What the hell.

[ooooo-mcyt]

From Grian's Double Life pov, Scar's behavior in episode one feels like such a strong rejection I think.

(disclaimer that this is all speaking from grian's pov, not necessarily objective view on the situation.)

For starters we really do gloss over "Scar I think we're soulmates and you're too busy chasing fairies!" a lot. Grian very explicitly told Scar that he thinks they're soulmates (and in the same sentence is already expressing frustration with feeling like scar isn't paying attention or prioritizing grian's feelings like five minutes into them running into each other). Grian said it out loud. Scar heard him, which we know because Scar responded with "My real soulmate is flying away from me", which not only indicates Scar heard Grian, but also that he understood what Grian said on some level. And Scar walked away.

Grian has reason to feel rejected or devalued here. I mean, it seems like, from Grian's perspective, Scar thought whatever Grian was saying to him was so unimportant he instantly brushed Grian off and disregarded the conversation completely (despite grian being clearly distressed). Grian tried to express something extremely important, in a moment of obvious emotion, and he ended up feeling like Scar didn't care to listen, even when Grian said it plainly to Scar.

So then Scar and Grian go around the server, and Grian decides not to tell Scar yet (although to be fair grian already told him) and Scar..doesn't notice. They take damage multiple times while together but Scar never seems to notice when they do, or catch on to the fact that they're soulmates, even when practically everyone else they run into does in fact know, sometimes just from watching them take damage together. (oorp this was obviously for the bit, but from a character perspective i can't help but wonder if grian was 'testing' in a way, not trying to tell scar again because he's hoping scar will eventually care enough to notice himself)

And again, it's very easy for Grian to feel like Scar is rejecting or doesn't care about him. Grian feels like Scar isn't noticing him, like Scar doesn't even see him, because if Scar was paying attention, surely at some point he'd see something Grian sees as so obvious. I think this is an especially big blow to Grian specifically, because Grian often expresses love through fussing over people and making sure they're safe and healthy. So the fact that Scar apparently never once really looked at him specifically when either of them were in danger or taking damage was probably more hurtful for Grian than it would for many people.

Eventually Grian ends up going off on his own for a little bit, just to set up a little bit of a base and starting resources for them. Scar stops by, and Grian tries to tell him. "I have something to tell you!" Grian says. Scar waves him off and walks away. "I have something to tell you!" Grian calls again. Scar doesn't turn around.

Again, the running theme of Grian feeling like Scar isn't really noticing him. Another time where Grian tried to speak to Scar, to tell him they're soulmates no less, and Scar waves him off and walks away, like whatever Grian has to say isn't important, like it's something that can just be glossed over and disregarded.

And then Grian comes to Scar, marches over to Scar and his pandas, and tells Scar he has something important to tell him. Grian tells Scar to look at him, and drops dripstone on their heads. Scar isn't paying attention, laughing over the pandas. Grian presses- no, look, actually look this time!- and only after Grian demands Scar look at him can he drop another piece of dripstone on their heads and have Scar realize they're soulmates.

"Do we have to live together?" Scar asks almost immediately.

"It would be nice..."

Grian has to drag Scar to the base he's started.

And like. Obviously it isn't bad of Scar to not care about soulmates very much or to be distracted or unobservant. But all of this adds up to Grian, I think, feeling very deeply rejected, unheard, and devalued. Adds up to Grian getting this impression that Scar isn't interested in actively listening to him when he talks, or checking on him when they're in danger, or paying attention when something's important to Grian, or even just looking at him unless Grian begs him to. Which very naturally leads into Grian's arc of pulling back from Scar in following episodes.

[realitythroughthelensoffiction]

Am I the only one who thinks that Michael is a traitor?

I'm using he/him pronouns for the Archangel Michael. The character is played by a female actress, but Michael is traditionally a male name. And since I'm not a native speaker of English, I struggle with the use of they/them for single persons, so I avoid using these pronouns unless they are canon for a character.

The Archangel Michael is my favourite character after Crowley and Aziraphale. I love the mixture of greed for power, deviousness and imcompetence. He is also not as blind as Gabriel when it comes to certain things - he was the first in heaven to notice the connection between Crowley and Aziraphale and the one who suspected that the angels were being tricked in the Job episode. But I get the impression that the fandom vastly underestimates him and his possible role in the finale. So, especially in the light of a recent interview with actress Doon Mackichan (the interview contains spoilers, my post does not), I wanted to share a theory with the fandom that I've had for a long time. The starting point for my theory is this scene with Dagon:

Dagon hisses at the angels, to which Michael subtly shakes his head, with the effect that Dagon immediately draws back and looks below herself. For shippers, this scene has been a delight. But I think there's evidence that Michael's connection with hell actually goes a bit deeper than a personal relationship with Dagon.

Now first, there has always been some communication between heaven and hell. Even God and Satan used to talk to each other, like when they came up with the bet about Job. Gabriel's and Beelzebub's first meeting in a café was semi-official; they were meeting in their roles as the leaders of their respective sides to figure out what steps to take next.

In season 1, Heaven was informed about the arrival of the Antichrist and Crowley's involvement in it. And heaven and hell worked together for the execution of Crowley and Aziraphale. Dagon points out the irony of this scene by calling it "cooperation with our old enemies" - the same crime our angel and demon are to be punished for.

And it makes sense that there would be at least some cooperation between heaven and hell. After all, they both want their war. However, in season 2 the flow of information between heaven and hell appears to be suspiciously unidirectional. And that's where Michael comes into play.

At the beginning of season 2, we see Michael talking to someone from hell through his phone. I didn't recognize the voice of his interlocutor, so I'm not sure who he was talking to, but it doesn't really matter. What's important is that Michael is speaking about Gabriel being missing and heaven being prepared to use "extreme sanctions". Why would a loyal Archangel give such an information to hell? Not even the lesser angels were supposed to know about Gabriel's disappearance. The Metatron forbade Saraqael to "sound an alert".

And why would Michael expect hell to help them? Shouldn't hell be more than happy if the leader of their enemies was missing? I know that Michael's mention of the Book of Life could be understood as a threat should hell really be responsible for Gabriel's disappearance. But you would expect his interlocutor to be at least hesitant about helping him. You would not suppose them to instantly tell him "I'm on it", nor Michael to respond with "I appreciate it".

Said scene is not the only instance in which Michael is talking to someone from hell via phone. In season 1, he calls Ligur to ask him about Crowley and Aziraphale. He starts the conversation by simply stating "It's me" and not "It's the Archangel Michael", implying that they talk regularly and that Ligur knows who is on the phone. After Ligur's death, the demon seems to have been replaced immediately by someone else as Michael's contact in hell. So I suppose that the fact that they have been communicating is not a secret in Satan's realm, especially since the phone Ligur uses is standing in a room where other demons are working as well.

Heaven, on the other hand, seems to be unaware of Michael's connection to hell. Gabriel is genuinely confused when Michael mentions "back channels", and Michael does not explain what he means by that, but simply gives him a wicked smile. Then, after looking over his shoulder to check if anyone is watching him, Michael hides in the staircase and calls Ligur. When another angel walks past, Michael temporarily holds the phone away from his ear and laughs nervously.

Ever since I saw that scene, I've suspected that Michael is a traitor who is secretly working for hell, and his little interaction with Dagon only intensified my impression. Moreover, if you pay attention to the other characters in that scene in the bookshop, you can see that it is not only Dagon, but also FurFur who is meticulously watching Michael, while the angels are looking in different directions.

It has also always struck me as odd that Michael is the one who comes to hell for Crowley's execution. Hell sent the disposable Eric for the killing of Aziraphale, so it's a bit strange that an Archangel does not equally send one of the lesser angels to do the same service for hell, but does it himself.

Furthermore, Michael is the only angel whose name is mentioned in the Book of Revelations. He is the one who leads the fight against Satan (Rev 12:7). In Christian iconography, Michael is also often depicted holding the scales to weigh the souls in the Last Judgment. Now, this particular image does not come from the Bible, but was taken from ancient Egyptian art instead (cf. this article). In the Bible, it is the Book of Life that is used to separate the saved from the damned (Rev 20:15; 21:27). But it is Michael who mentions the Book of Life twice in the series, although he is obviously not authorized to edit it. So if we take all these facts together, I think it's not preposterous to assume that Michael will play an important role in the finale, whatever that role may be.

And since Michael is the one who fights Satan in the Bible, it would be a cool plot twist if he turned out to be an agent of hell in Good Omens.

It's pretty obvious what the benefits of working together with Michael would be for hell. It would be useful to have an ally in heaven who waits until the right time to help you to secure your final victory. Hell still seems to be cautious about trusting Michael, though; he has to assure Ligur about his trustworthiness during their phone call, and Beelzebub openly voices their mistrust in the scene with the holy water.

As for Michael himself, it is not that clear what his motivation for a cooperation with hell could be. We know that he is seeking power, and maybe hell promised him a high position as a reward for his services. He might also consider a deal with hell a smart move to save his life in case that they win the war. And if heaven were to win, he could still draw back and insist that he had been a loyal angel all along.

In any case, I've always believed that we as a fandom are too focused on the Metatron as the only villain in the finale, and that the real danger might come from a different place. Michael might be the murder hornet in heaven's beehive and an even bigger antagonist than the Metatron to Crowley, Aziraphale and humanity. If my assumption turned out to be right, it would also be very interesting to see how Michael's role as a link between heaven and hell could play into the concept of "heaven and hell against humanity".

I think there's no doubt that Michael is hell's no. 1 informant. The question is whether he acts as such as a part of the normal exchange between heaven and hell or whether he is actively working for them.

I would love to read your thoughts on that. Do you think that my theory about Michael as a traitor makes sense? Or am I reading too much into his odd behaviour?

@kimberleyjean

[dani-ya-dig]

Something that I really love about Sam, and have always loved since I listened to his first video, is how he entirely subverts the expectations for vampires. Not just modern day ones but the expectations that have always been there for vampires.

(And his southern accent but that’s not what this post is about)

When vampires first rose to popularity, what they represented was a fear of sexuality. They were inherently sexual creatures of the night who lured innocent people into the shadows with their powers of seduction only to drink their blood.

We even see this in most of the redacted vampires. Vincent was literally introduced as “the flirty vampire”. While later he was given some depth and we learn that he just picked up that act from Porter, it was still an integral part of him in the beginning. Even Alexis, as little from her as we have heard, she speaks in a very low, sultry tone. Even when she isn’t trying to be flirtatious.

This is a very inherent part of vampires some lore even describes it as a power that they have. (I believe this is addressed within Castle Audios lore as “the lure”)

But Sam doesn’t have that. He isn’t flirty. He isn’t seductive. Not in the traditional way anyways. (Because HOO BOY AM I SEDUCED)

Sam doesn’t try to lure Darlin in when they first meet. He doesn’t really try to lure darlin at all, really. They just naturally grew close. It was active flirtation, it was just chemistry and care.

Even when they do admit their feelings for each other Sam still doesn’t want to have sex. He hadn’t for over a decade, and the last person he had sex with stole his life away from him. Of course he didn’t feel comfortable.

And I think this all helps to portray the most important part of Sam’s backstory.

He wasn’t supposed to be a vampire.

He never planned on being turned. He didn’t want Alexis to turn him. He never wanted to be that.

The same could be said for Vincent, he didn’t wanted to be turned either. He wasn’t given a choice. However, Vincent still took on that flirty vampire persona.

I think this illustrates the difference in how Vincent and Sam grew into their turning over time. Vincent, while extremely depressed in the beginning of his turning, grew into it. He eventually learned to accept himself as a vampire, and even embrace it. I think him taking on that traditional, flirty vampire act, was his way of embracing what he now was.

Lovely’s part in Vincent’s character growth, rather than teaching him to accept himself as a vampire, was helping him to learn that he didn’t have to be someone new just because his mortal self is dead.

Sam, while he accepted the fact that he was a vampire passively, he never really embraced it as part of himself. I think this is really well illustrated by how he handled feeding before he fed from Darlin. “I’ve never been one to savor the taste. I just chug it like a supplement and pour a cup of something I actually like the taste of”. (That was paraphrased pls don’t hurt me if I got something wrong). He accepts that he needs blood to survive but he is going to incorporate it into his life passively, and focus on the things he actually likes. He accepts that he is a vampire, but he won’t take it as a part of himself.

I think this is even shown well in Sam choice to “chose morality” (as it was put in the trigger warnings of that one video, still hung up on that btw) rather than live forever. He accepts that he is immortal, but he isn’t going to embrace it.

To Sam vampirism isn’t a part of himself, it’s just something that was done to him. Like a giant scar that covers his body, his face, his eyes, even his core. It still isn’t him.

The way that Darlin plays into Sam’s character growth, I think has potential to change this and I think it’s something interesting to explore.

So far Darlin already has played a pretty big part in Sam’s character growth. Before meeting them he was closed off. Isolating himself from pretty much everyone but a few people in his clan. Darlin has brought him out of that. He now has people, he has the pack. While he does love Vincent and Lovely (and possibly Fred and Bright but we will never know what happened with them), it’s important to have people outside of the ones that you are forced to interact with by circumstance. Especially if said circumstances are horribly traumatic for you.

Blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, and all that.

However, I think Darlin inadvertently helping Sam to embrace the vampiric aspects of himself is interesting concept. Especially now that Sam has fed from Darlin, and enjoyed it, and saw how much his mate enjoyed. I think Sam slowly accepting vampirism is absolutely a possibility in the future.

If it ever happens or not I will still adore Sam’s character all the same.

Anyways this was a really long winded way of explaining that I like how Sam subverts the typical tropes with vampires, and I appreciate how it ties into his turning being non-consensual. I like to rant if people haven’t picked up on that already lmao.

Also I miss my girlfriend. Erik bring Sam back home immediately.

[duskdog]

So with Cass going to her happy place (that is, Steph) one more time, and all the analysis around it right now, I thought it might also be good to talk about Steph's vision of Cass.

As far as I recall, it only happened once -- in Batgirl (2000) #26 -- and it was a very mixed portrayal. For context, I think it's important to remember that this is still very early in their relationship -- this is only the fourth interaction we've actually seen on-panel, in fact, and the first was barely an interaction at all.

And yet it seems that Steph has already embraced Cass in a way that Cass has not yet embraced Steph. In their third interaction, Cass has accidentally almost killed Shadow Thief, and Steph helps her resuscitate him and then immediately agrees not to tell Oracle about what happened. No reservation whatsoever -- a crying, guilty, terrified Cass doesn't even manage to find the words to ask exactly what she wants before Steph understands and gives it to her.

And here, in their fourth interaction, Cass doesn't even know it's occurring. She's recovering from her fight to the death with Shiva, and is asleep for the entirely of the issue. But Steph is extremely concerned about her (moreso than Babs, but to be fair to Babs, she has a lot more experience with how Cass is and is probably just relieved that she's actually resting), despite the fact that they really barely know each other at this point.

Steph goes out to fight Shiva's disciple in Cass's stead, because Cass is still indisposed. She's gung-ho at the start, but upon seeing her opponent, gets cold feet and starts to lose faith in herself. Here's where the Cass-vision starts.

Look at Imaginary Cass hyping her up. She's even smiling under the mask, which isn't something Steph has ever seen her do on-panel. Note how articulate Cass is. At this point in her development, Cass didn't communicate this way. She didn't use long sentences, smoothly strung together, with anyone, and she didn't use them with Steph in particular. In fact, here's the extent of what Cass has said to Steph directly on-panel so far, in their entire relationship: Become faster. Read it. (multiple times) No. (multiple times) When? Quiet. (multiple times) Go home. Then we wait. You take the train. I take the car. Kinsey is here. Get down. The money. Trade? Why? Let's go. Help me. And of course, the above interaction about Shadow Thief. Obviously, not only does Actual Cass have very little to say to Steph, she certainly doesn't have anything encouraging to say! She's outright dismissive of her, at best. And that's just how Cass is as this point in her development -- her speech abilities are still limited, her social development is stunted, and she's just not a cuddly person in general. Combat, and getting the job done, are of utmost importance to her. She's not intentionally cruel, she's just very blunt and calls it like she sees it, and she's like that with pretty much everyone. So we have Imaginary Cass, speaking and behaving in a very un-Cass-like manner... and Steph actually having a conversation with this imaginary Cass out loud. It's a little weird, but it's very in-character for Steph, who is extremely talkative and thrives on interaction. Babbling seems to be an anxiety response for her. She already has a tendency to narrate her own experiences via her diary, so I think it's not a stretch to say that she might try to talk through her own anxiety with herself by imagining that self-conversation being with Cass instead. This differs from Cass's hallucinations in that Steph isn't dead, dying, or drugged. She's wide awake, and she seems to know that Cass is imaginary, because she even recognizes the fact that Cass doesn't normally speak this way to her. Imaginary Cass is just a vehicle for expressing what she's trying to tell herself -- much like Steph will later be a vehicle for Cass to express her feelings to herself in Batgirl (2024) #5. But here we are later, when Steph begins to feel like she's failing:

Imaginary Cass turns disparaging, taunting her, saying all the things that Steph clearly feels about herself: she's not good enough, they were wrong to put their faith in her, she's failed, she's going to die, and worse -- other people are going to die because of her failure, too. (It's worth noting that, in retrospect, this ends up sounding like an entirely unintentional foreshadowing of War Games.) This makes Steph mad (seriously, look how angry her silly mask blob eyes are) and motivates her to ultimately win the battle. Steph gets a lot of motivation from spite, and in this case it's probably helpful that the disparagement is seeming to come from "someone else" (namely imaginary Cass) instead of from herself. It's easier to spite other people than to spite yourself. It's easier to be motivated to prove them wrong. Again, Cass is a vehicle for Steph's internal monologue -- it becomes a dialogue instead, in a way that is helpful to her in the end.

Then there's one more vision:

Look at Steph's face. Just for an instant, she's so happy. She clearly admires Cass, and has expressed it on multiple occasions ever since they met. She's in awe. And she desperately needs someone to believe in her, and be proud of her. If Batgirl, the girl who beat Lady Shiva, could be proud of her, then wouldn't that mean the world?

But it's not to be.

At least not yet.

[raguiras]

What's this?! Spade of Storms is canon in the game now?! /j

Finally finished this Spade of Storms WIP from early June 😅 Click for better quality!

Reblogs are very appreciated ~

「 Bonus versions & ship ramble below the cut! 」

♤ More Deuce x Allen: ♤

SHIP INTRO: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4

OTHER ART: 1

Ship blog: @spade-of-storms

♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤

♤ Ship ramble ♤

There are many reasons why Allen and Deuce are perfect for each other (list), but a fair share of said reasons are rooted in or can be traced back to one massive, highly important core point: these two have extremely similar experiences in a reversed order.

Said experiences shaped their personalities, goals, insecurities and "masks" — all of which are highly important factors for Deuce and Allen's relationship development.

So today, I'll be talking about how their backstories influence Allen and Deuce's relationship.

Something I noticed is that if Spade of Storms weren't dating, they'd pretty much end up experiencing at least parts of each other's backstory... and end up in a super miserable state.

Allen is a former honor student who overworked himself to the point of burning out, all because he was a people pleaser and his stellar grades still weren't enough for his teachers who expected nothing but the absolute best from him. Additionally, he had to suppress his true self and interests because he was expected to be a model student in every single way, and anger was something only "bad" kids felt.

Sounds familiar? Deuce is unknowingly on the path to end up in the same situation, except in his case, the fact that he can't seem to achieve better grades no matter what causes him even more distress. If he actually ended up becoming a honor student, Deuce would experience a ton of additional pressure, not to mention that he's already struggling to hide the delinquent tendencies that are a fundamental part of his true personality... Sure, "honor student" sounds like a nice and admirable title to have — but the reality behind it is cruel, and Deuce isn't aware of that yet.

Which is why I gave him Allen.

A large part of Allen's trauma is rooted in his past as a honor student and the crushing expectations people (including himself) threw at him, and he desperately wants Deuce to watch out for himself and approach his goal of becoming a honor student carefully and logically rather than bite off more than he can chew and end up drowning in even more pressure, self-suppression and insecurities. Allen doesn't want Deuce to experience all the negative sides of being a honor student and instead supports the Heartslabyul student's goals by working towards them with a pace appropriate for Deuce, helping him study through actually unique methods specifically tailored for Deuce, and — most importantly — giving Deuce a safe and healthy environment where he can be his 100% authentic self and learn how to properly get his impulsiveness under control at the same time.

And the other way around? How does Deuce's past help Allen?

Deuce quit being a delinquent because it not only disappointed his mom, but also caused him a lot of trouble and massively stained his reputation. While Allen can handle his own delinquent tendencies just fine on the outside, his anger is actually much worse than Deuce's, not to mention that he has incredibly violent fantasies about the people he can't stand...

So far, Allen hasn't done anything bad. But Deuce, despite being a delinquent at heart himself, is able to calmly remind Allen to not do anything he might end up regretting or that might stain his reputation, especially since this is a major fear of Allen's. Deuce's worries and loving way manage to keep Allen in check, no matter how strong the Ramshackle student's hatred for society grows.

♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎

Now, HOW exactly are they able to help each other grow? WHY did they form intimate levels of trust to begin with? And especially, why can Allen actually efficiently help Deuce in the first place when nobody else can?

All will be revealed in the next issue Spade of Storms explanation post >:)

[starry-bi-sky]

miscellaneous danyal al ghul things

specifically about the danyal al ghul from my post/prompt here and i wanna get my misc. headcanons/thoughts on him (especially in his early stay with the fentons) out here before i make any other danyal al ghul aus

list under the cut because whoops this got longer than i expected. which really i should have expected

the Fentons are unaffiliated with the League, which was perfect for Danny faking his death.

he struggles with empathy. Empathy was not taught nor encouraged while he was with the League, so it's a skill that's been pretty stunted. At 15 he's better at empathizing with people, but he still struggles with it. He's pretty bad at reassuring/comforting people and usually acts as an emotional rubber duck for Sam and Tucker to vent to if need be. He sometimes offers blunt and sometimes mean opinions, especially if its about another person.

Sam and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin, they are however, pretty positive that he used to be part of an eco-fascist cult with a focus on martial arts?? They've been helping him tone down some of his more,,, extreme views on humanity ever since they caught wind of his more extreme ideologies.

He and Sam are still avid environmentalists and feed into each other quite a bit. They spend plenty of time at protests and pestering the school into more eco-friendly options.

Dash is not dead on the sole fact that Danny knew he had to lay low in Amity Park and killing someone was not, in fact, 'laying low'.

he did, however, traumatize him when Dash first tried to bully him. Safe to say, Danny is not bullied at school and neither are Sam and Tucker.

Danny didn't make any friends in his first year at Amity Park. He was surly, grumpy, standoffish, more stubborn than Sam, and pretty self-important about himself. Jazz was trying to teach him against these things, but she is a 12 year old unaffiliated with the League. Danny did not respect her nor listen to a word she said. It wasn't until like, year two that he finally started paying to mind what she was saying and slowly started to improve on himself

Sam approached him first, he rebuffed her quite harshly, and then Danny approached her sometime afterward when he overheard her talking about environmental rights. Sam completely ignored him though when he agreed with her, and Danny had to later learn that he needed to apologize for being rude to her when they first met. He did so eventually, and they started to talk more with Tucker and Sam.

Danny's a bit more reserved than he is in canon, although he steadily learns how to act as a regular teenager when he's out in public. He's a bit more friendlier at least, although when he's around Sam and Tucker he drops the act. He still has a somewhat formal way of talking, it's just become more casual after a lot of ribbing from Sam and Tucker. When he's angry or annoyed he starts talking poshly though.

His humor is relatively the same as in canon, if somehow dryer and more insulting at some points

Those rare moments where he gets really pissed usually ends up with him insulting someone in arabic or any of the other languages he picked up from the league. He is the go-to for Tucker's Spanish homework. (Tucker makes that mistake and learns that Danny is a very strict teacher)

while Danny doesn't view the Fentons as his parents, even five years after living with them, he does respect them to some amount. He respects them enough at least that when Vlad Masters comes sniffing around, he is suitably offended on both Maddie and Jack's behalf. And when he finds out Vlad was the one who tried to kill Jack and tried to tell him to renounce him as his father/parental guardian, danny threw a suitably sharp object at him and insulted him quite horrendously

Vlad still wants him as his kid. In fact perhaps even moreso after this.

Danny trains with Maddie to keep up with his training. It's not quite the same but it prevents him from getting completely rusty

Sam and Tucker know that Danny has a little brother, but nothing else beyond that other than Danny cares about him quite a lot and that he got his facial scar from keeping him safe.

Danny cares about Sam, Tucker, and Jazz quite a bit, but he struggles to convey it. Especially early on when he realized he cared about them and like instinct started being harsher to them and more critical of their actions. This resulted in quite a few arguments with Sam and Tucker and Jazz until he got sat down and told outright that the way he was treating them wasn't okay. It's a process he's still trying to unlearn even at 15. He has become kinder towards them as a result, and has begun looking for what they did right rather than what they did wrong.

He harbors a lot of guilt over how he treated Damian in the League, and its a pretty big conflict he has with himself since he's torn between telling himself it was for the best to make sure Damian survived the League, and feeling like crap over how harsh/critical of Damian he was and realizing that he probably could have come up with a better way of training him despite being a child himself at the time. Danny comes to the realization that more than anything, that he just wants to apologize.

His ghost form, specifically is outfit, is a combination of his hazmat suit and his uniform from the league, and he carries a sword with him. He also doesn't know how to react to Dani, honestly. Although it is fair to say that he figures out she's a clone instantly because of her whole 'I'm your third cousin once removed' thing and he freaks out. She spills the beans pretty quickly after that. And Danny is pretty skittish around her - or the equivalent of skittish. Her being younger than him kinda reminds him of Damian, so he's uncomfortable by her presence but learns to warm up to her.

[leilakisakabiri]

Liar, Liar (Gavi)

Summary: Gavi thinks you’re cheating on him. 

Warning(s): None

A/N: Thank you guys for all the love on The Promises We Keep. My inbox is open!

Word Count: 3.3k+

Masterlist

Gavi still remembered how alone he felt that day. It was the day of the semifinal for La Liga, one of the biggest games of his career, and one of the most important days of his life, and instead of being excited and focusing all his attention on the upcoming game, all he could think about was you.

Were you getting undressed for someone else right now? Did you even love him anymore?

He felt his heart tug painfully, and his mind wandered as he got lost in the what-ifs and maybes surrounding your relationship. Or lack thereof now he guessed.

Never in his life did he think he would ever be in this position. Growing up he had never loved anything as much as he loved football, and when he finally made Barca’s A team he swore he never would. However, that slowly started to change when you came into his life.

You were the cute girl next door, spending a year abroad in Barcelona and attending the same school as his hometown friends. The first time he had met you was when you were walking towards your apartment, hands filled with a random assortment of papers, textbooks, and chargers. The stack of textbooks partially obstructed your view and you missed a step causing you to go flying into the midfielder.

You let out a yelp as you hit the boy, papers falling to the ground.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t see the step.” You frantically apologized, bending down to gather your things.

The boy stood still.

You looked up at him from the ground, “Oh my god you’re not hurt are you?” You asked, stressed about the fact that you could have injured the poor guy.

“I’m fine.” He said, finally bending down and helping you collect your things.

You both stood up and stared at each other for a second, unsure what to say before you broke the silence.

“I’m Y/n.” You said, hand outstretched to greet him.

“Pablo.” he introduced himself, reaching out to shake your hand, laughing at your formality.

You felt your cheeks turn red, “Sorry was that too formal? I’m still trying to learn the customs and stuff. Guess Google didn’t do a good job.”

The boy smiled at you, “No problem. I’m guessing you’re not from here then?”

You shook your head, taking a minute to adjust the various things in your arms, “No I’m an exchange student actually, from the States.”

Gavi nodded, “That explains the accent.”

Your cheeks turned even redder, “Haha yah. Still working on that.” You meekly responded, breaking eye contact.

Damn it. Barely one week in a new city and you were already known as an outsider.

It was silent after that and you took it as a sign to move on with your day, “Well thanks. And sorry again.” You said, beginning to walk past him.

“Let me help you.” Gavi said, turning to face you.

“Oh no worries, my apartment’s right here.” You gestured pointing to the door next to the one he had come out of.

“You’re Mateo’s neighbor?”

You looked at him surprised, “You know Mateo? Yeah, I live next door.”

He nodded, “We’re childhood friends.”

“So do you go here as well?” You asked.

The boy shook his head, “Nah, just visiting.”

“Ok well see you around I guess.” You said, waving bye.

He gave you a wave back.

“Oh, also most people carry bags around for their stuff here!” Gavi shouted at your retreating figure.

You spun around, seeing him facing you with a grin, both of you walking backward, “I got robbed!” You exclaimed.

Gavi felt himself let out a soft smile at the memory before his brain caught up to his heart and then he was drowning in heartache all over again thinking about what he had just lost.

“Joder!” Gavi yelled, his hand slamming against the locker as he saw the call go to voicemail again.

“You ok hermano?” Pedri asked, entering the empty locker room, finding the younger boy sitting on the bench, looking extremely upset, hands shaking, and breathing labored.

“I think- I think Y/N’s cheating on me.”

The words came out barely above a whisper, and Gavi ducked his head the second he said them, the situation hitting a hundred times harder now that he had admitted it to himself.

Pedri looked at him in shock.

When he had come into the locker room, looking for a very late Gavi, he hadn’t expected to find the midfielder not only unchanged but also in such a vulnerable state.

“Why would you say that?” Pedri spoke carefully, treading lightly, not wanting to make Gavi more upset.

Gavi pulled something up on his phone, handing it over. It was an Instagram story.

A video shared by your friend meant to share the club she was at, but also unknowingly sharing you in a very compromising position.

Pedri watched as the video panned to you in a black lace dress, drink in hand, as a guy twice your size leaned into you, hands possessively laid on your waist, pulling you into him far too close to be considered friendly.

You were only in the video for a second but there was no denying it was you. You were wearing the same dress you had worn for Gavi’s birthday dinner just a few months prior.

He bit his lip not knowing what to say. He thought it could have been a misunderstanding, but seeing the video he was beginning to doubt it.

He didn’t say anything handing the phone back to Gavi.

The boy looked up at him, eyes glistening, “You saw it too right?”

Pedri sighed, “Yah. I’m sorry Pablo.”

Gavi slowly nodded, turning away from Pedri as he fought to keep his emotions at bay.

“Fucking great. Now she won’t even answer me.” He muttered throwing his phone carelessly to the side.

“And what’s the matter with you two?” Xavi walked into the locker room, seemingly not pleased with how long it was taking the two to come out.

“Game starts in twenty and you’re both dilly-dallying like some preschoolers. Get moving. Gavi get changed.” He ordered.

“Coa-” Gavi began to speak, but Xavi cut him off.

“I don’t care. Deal with it later, game first. Out in five.” He pointed to both boys before walking out.

Pedri gave Gavi one last pat on the back, “Don’t think about it now. Focus on the game.”

“It’s the only thing I can think about.” Gavi admitted.

“How could she do this? Does she not care about me, about us?” Gavi’s voice wavered, and he took a sharp inhale trying to calm himself down.

Just talking about it was emotional. He couldn’t even imagine how having a conversation with you after would feel.

Would you pretend nothing had happened? Was this your way of letting him know you guys were over? Would he ever even get to talk to you again?

There were too many unanswered questions and Gavi felt himself getting overwhelmed as he considered the possibilities.

He grabbed his jersey, forcing himself into autopilot as he put it on. He felt like he was floating, watching over himself as he did all the things he was supposed to. He watched as he joined his teammates, listened to Xavi’s instructions, and took his place in the starting lineup.

Walking onto the field, even the thousands of cheering fans did nothing to interrupt his thoughts, all of them consumed with you.

He sang the anthem, and then before he knew it he was standing in the middle of the pitch, kicking the ball into play.

The first fifteen minutes of the game went as normal, he did everything he was supposed to, running to assist the attack whenever possible, and staying back whenever the opposition got too close to the goalpost. To everyone, he was playing exactly how he normally would, and while he was grateful that he didn’t seem to be costing his team too much, he would be lying if he said he was dedicated to the game, and he hated himself for that. Mentally he was still in the locker room, replaying the moment he had seen the post over and over again in his head, memorizing the way you had looked, in his favorite dress, pressed up against someone that wasn’t him. The pain was all-encompassing, something he had never felt before, and all he wanted to do was plead with you not to leave him, to love him like you had promised.

The referee blew his whistle, indicating a foul had been made. Gavi looked up at the noise being pulled from his thoughts, he squinted seeing something behind the shouting ref.

His breath hitched. Suddenly he was crashing back into himself. It felt like being soaked with ice-cold water while simultaneously being pricked by the same needle repeatedly.

He thought he was going to vomit.

Because there you were, like you always were, standing in the family section, in his jersey, a smile on your face as you waved down at him.

Based on the fact that you were even here he assumed you didn’t know he knew.

That for some reason got him angrier than he had ever been.

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he turned his back to you.

So you were just going to pretend. Go and hook up with random guys and then come back to him acting like an angel.

Your smile slowly fell, confused by his reaction. You were sure he had seen you, but his expression had been anything but happy. He looked pissed.

Anna, who was sitting beside you also noticed, “Why does he seem mad?”

You shrugged your shoulders, a frown on your face as you sat back in your seat, “I have no idea.”

Your brain raced through everything that had happened in the last few days, trying to pinpoint what you did for Gavi to be mad at you. You couldn’t come up with anything. You had just got back from France, spending the weekend away for your friend’s birthday, surely, he couldn’t be mad about that. You had already talked about it and he had practically shoved you out of his car when you had asked,

“Y/n I’m serious why would you even ask me that? Of course, you can go, I’m not going to control your life.” He exclaimed, shocked by your question.

You had asked him if he was okay with you going to spend the weekend with your friend in France, and he had been less than pleased with your question.

You laughed at his offended expression, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I know, and I love you for that. I just wanted to double check though.”

He smiled softly, “Yeah, yeah. Now get out of my car I’m going to be late!”

You smiled at the memory, sure that he wasn’t mad at you for that. So then why did he not wave back?

You had missed his calls earlier this morning on purpose wanting to surprise him by coming to his game, but you never received a text from him saying anything was wrong.

The game continued, and you cheered along with the crowd.

Gavi was playing especially aggressively today, tackling players left and right, and shoving into them the moment they got the ball.

You bit your lip anxiously, you knew if he kept playing like this it was only a matter of time before he got a red card.

Your suspicions were confirmed not even ten minutes later when Gavi had slide tackled another player, sending them flying to the ground.

Immediately the whistle blew, bodies surrounding the two players as an argument broke out. You shot out of your seat, leaning over the railing to see Gavi standing in the middle. The player he had tackled had finally stood up saying something to him. In an instant, Gavi was shoving into the much larger player, screaming at him with such fury you would have thought he had just killed his family.

It only took a minute for the ref to make a decision and then he was holding up a red card for Gavi. The player in question let out a loud yell, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set.

You watched as he shook his head in anger, walking off the pitch, eyes blazing.

You tried to make eye contact with him, but he purposely avoided looking at the stands as he disappeared into the tunnels.

The other player got a yellow card but otherwise, everything continued as normal.

You sat in your seat for another five minutes contemplating what to do when Anna decided for you, “Aren’t you going to down and see him?” She questioned.

You nodded your head slowly, trying to fight off the feeling that something was wrong, “Yeah, I just wanted to give him some time to cool down, but I’m going now.”

You stood up, an uneasy feeling in your heart as you walked towards the locker rooms.

The guard let you in without question, used to seeing you after games.

You took small steps toward the locker room, why were you so nervous?

You heard a loud bang inside and instinctively rushed in, scared Gavi had hurt himself.

You found him sitting on the floor against the bench, hands wrapped around his legs, head buried in his chest as he rocked back and forth.

Your heart broke at the sight. He looked so vulnerable.

“Pablo.” You spoke.

Gavi’s head shot up and he looked at you with so much disdain that your guard shot 100 feet up, but you stood rooted in place.

“You cost me the game.” He spoke, voice thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s your fault. You did this. You made me like this.”

“What? Pablo I don’t under-”

The boy cut you off, standing up, the hurt in his eyes had you reeling, “Of fuck off Y/n, you know what you did. Stop acting so innocent.”

You were stumbling over your words not used to seeing his gaze so venomous, “I do-don’t know what you’re ta-talking about.”

He laughed dryly at your words, taking a step closer to you, “Oh really so when you fucked that guy last night you weren’t thinking “Oh maybe this might hurt Pablo”, you were just thinking, “Eh what he won’t know won’t hurt him”. Well guess what? I know.”

Your throat went dry, your eyes widening at his words. He took your actions as confirmation.

“See you do know what I’m talking about it. We’re done Y/n I can’t believe I let myself love you.”

You stood in silence.

“Do you even love me?” His voice cracked as he looked at you.

He shook his head moving to walk past you, but you jumped into action, desperate not to let him leave. Your brain was still processing everything he said but you knew if you let him walk away now that would be the end, and you couldn’t let him leave thinking you didn’t love him.

You grabbed his wrist and he immediately spun around, glaring at you, “Don’t fucking touch me.” He seethed.

You relented, refusing to let go, “Pablo, please. Just listen to me. Don’t walk away!’ You pleaded.

“I don’t have to, you already did when you decided to fuck that random guy.” He yelled.

“I didn’t. I didn’t fuck him. I swear, baby just listen to me.”

“I’m not your baby.” He answered voice cold.

You felt his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you physically took a step back from him, dropping his hand.

He didn’t move.

“I never cheated on you. I love you, you know I would never do that, you’re too important to me.”

His anger only bubbled, “Apparently, I don’t know anything. How are you going to deny it when there’s evidence?”

“Evidence what evidence?” You asked exasperated.

“Why don’t you ask your friend Angela? At least she did me a favor by posting you pressed up against someone else.”

The realization finally hit you. He must have seen you with the guy last night, that’s why he was so upset, and you not answering his calls this morning must have just fueled his suspicions.

You suddenly felt so tired, everything was falling apart, and you didn’t have it in yourself to scream at Gavi anymore.

You sighed, walking past Gavi dropping to the floor, leaning against the locker room door.

“What are you doing?” He questioned.

“Gavi, I know you’re mad but I’m not letting you leave until you let me at least explain myself, and if you still want to hate me after then that fine. But first, just listen please.” Your voice came out gentle, all the anger dissipated.

He shook his head in anger, “You can’t fucking trap me in here. Move out of the way Y/n. Now.”

You shook your head in resistance, “No. I know how you are; I know you feel so angry right now you can’t think straight. But I promise you if you just give me a minute, I’ll explain everything. I don’t want a miscommunication to be the reason you hate me.”

He was silently fuming, but he made no move to leave.

You continued, “I’m taking it you saw the video?”

Gavi didn’t say anything but by the way his hands balled into fists you knew you were right.

You nodded, “Ok, well it was me.”

You heard Gavi let out a scoff.

“That guy was pressed into me, but what the video didn’t show was me pushing him off me not even five seconds later, drunkenly yelling at him that I had a boyfriend that I loved very much, and who was much prettier than he was. I know it probably looks bad in the video, but he was just so much bigger than me that it took me a minute to fight him off.”

“Also, when he first came up to me, I genuinely thought he was asking me directions for the bathroom, not asking me to go with him.” You clarified.

It was silent.

“Why were your arms around him?”

“I was shoving him away. Obviously, I can’t do that with just my mind – no matter how much I want to.” You tried to lighten the mood, but Gavi only sighed.

Your shoulders deflated; he didn’t believe you.

You moved to the side of the door, “You can leave.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Gavi spared you one last glance before he walked out the door, leaving you alone in the locker room.

Your eyes watched him leave and the second the door shut behind him you covered your mouth with your hands, shoulders shaking as you let out the sobs you had been holding in.

Is this what being heartbroken felt like? Sure, you had relationships that end in the past on less-than-stellar terms, but never had you felt like this. Like you couldn’t breathe, like every small breath was squeezing your body, leaving you with no oxygen and an unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You sniffled, trying to pull yourself back together. You had to leave before the game ended and the team came back.

You were in the middle of wiping your tears when the door swung open again.  

“Fuck this, I’m not leaving. I took five steps before I realized how stupid I’m being. I believe you. I trust you – but it’s just so hard because my mind is screaming at me to leave but all my heart is thinking about is how I’m letting go of the most real thing I’ve ever felt, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you like that all alone.” Gavi spoke, voice firm as he came to sit next to you.

You looked over at him with wide eyes, “You came back?”

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he scooched closer to you, “I always will.”

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

caregiver midoriya izuku headcanons !!

— requested by @v4mpiirew1tch —

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

💚 - izuku is probably the only one of the class a kids (barring the regressors) who actually knew what age regression was going into it. he’s done way too much research into heroics and the kinds of people that he might encounter to not know the various kinds of trauma responses civilians (and villains who still need his help) might show. now, that doesn’t mean he’s exactly prepared when actually faced with someone he knows regressing, but he does have a leg to stand on and he finds it a lot easier than expected. it isn’t hard for him to look at someone who is emotional or sensitive and go along with whatever they may need and whatever that may entail. in fact, he’s always the first one to recover and handle a situation when someone regresses in front of him— or in front of the class, which has happened (many times) before.

💚 - predictably, he was really anxious in the beginning, unsure of how fragile his friends were in their headspaces and overthinking everything. his biggest fear was that he would mess something up and take this already precarious thing and shatter it. it didn’t take very long for him to get used to things (tsu knocked some sense into him) and he got really good at slipping into his own headspace, one surprisingly similar to his hero one. he acts as an anchor in unsteady waters, giving the littles someone to latch onto as a pillar of strength as the storm passes. once they’re calm (or if they just happily regressed), izuku is more than willing to slide into a big brother role, treating his friends as he always would— just a little more gentle.

💚 - he started carrying around an emergency regressor kit soon after, packed with juice, snacks, and clean soothers (chewelry, pacis, and teethers mostly), because he figured it was better safe than sorry and he never wants his friends to be caught without something to help them. when iida found out, he was inspired by such a great act of preparedness and heroics (he was only a little upset that he hadn’t thought of it himself) that he started carrying one as well. the two of them then spent a while coming up with different things regressors might need and petitioned aizawa to let them stash said things in the classroom and training areas. aizawa, of course, didn’t care what they did as long as they were the ones keeping on top of it.

💚 - extremely tactile! izuku loves giving hugs and head pats! growing up quirkless left him very lonely and he basks in having friends to shower in affection— and being able to receive it back. everyone knows that he’s open to hold hands or cuddle whenever, even if they aren’t regressed, and it’s so well known that it ends up surpassing class lines, becoming common knowledge even amongst the regressors in class b. it isn’t rare to enter the dorms and see him hanging out while someone naps with their head on his chest or babbles to him about their day while he plays with their hair. he gives strong hugs and everyone loves them, I just know it.

💚 - he has a notebook with everyone’s regression information in it and, I’m so serious when I say this, he would protect it with his life. he has so many notes on each of his classmates, even his fellow caregivers, on things they like and don’t like, what kind of personality traits shine in their headspace, and anything he’s been told that he feels is important— like the names of their plushies. he does memorize everything, of course, but he finds that having physical copies is always better (and he has this opinion about everything, especially media). he’d never show anyone this notebook either, but he does relay things he’s learned to other people when it’s necessary. it mostly comes up as him infodumping to aizawa, who is the only person he feels this information is relevant to and the main one he trusts with it.

💚 - generally, he’s just very good with kids and takes a lot of what he learns with eri and applies it to the others. one such thing is the fact that he is extraordinarily good at reverse psychology. every little thinks that izuku is a massive pushover that lets them get away with anything but, truthfully, he always manages to steer them away from any chaos they may want to be involved in without anyone really noticing it. he’s just very good at distracting and redirecting. that being said, he also can’t say no to a pair of puppy eyes so maybe he is a bit of a pushover.

[kcandyliciouss]

Sealed Secrets

Part 1/?

Synopsis:

Knight!Shinsou x Princess!Reader

A princess, known for her reckless and cheerful nature, and her knight, Shinsou, who is her polar opposite and is stuck always looking out for her safety. There's no way the two could ever get along. Right? However after countless mysterious murders, secrets, and riddles, the princess finds herself being drawn to her knight, and it seems like he's starting to tolerate her too.

Cw: death, fem!reader, slowburn (they hate each other lol), no quirks

Wc: 4.0k

Not beta read!

It was a sunday afternoon when you had just met Archie Wellington, the prince of Solandria. The Wellington family had been visiting your kingdom; your families had decided to have the two of you wed to ensure peace between Solandria and Hortensia after many years of war.

As much as you hated the idea of being wed to a stranger, you had to admit- Archie wasn't all that bad, especially compared to some of your other suitors. He was sweet and most important of all respectful, quite handsome as well; With his sleek blonde hair and dazzling brown eyes that crinkled when he smiled, he had a certain charm. And although it seemed that neither of you wanted a romantic relationship, Archie was most likely your best option for a somewhat happy marriage, you thought.

That was, of course, before the maids had found him dead in the guest room the next morning.

It was a surprise for everyone. Just the evening before the prince was alive and well.

The two royal families were dining together and discussing the upcoming wedding, After multiple generations of war between the kingdoms, the two rulers had agreed to make peace. And since both royal offsprings were approximately the same age, the decision to wed them was made.

Now, you weren’t the royal heir so you knew that you would be “given away” in marriage at some point. Non-heir princesses were often married off to princes, dukes, or other nobles. Since they were not first in line for the throne, their primary role was often seen as forging alliances through marriage.

Of course your brother, the heir, was also expected to marry, but the pressure on him wasn’t as heavy; while marriage was important to produce heirs and secure succession, the crown prince had more freedom, he had more leeway in choosing a spouse who aligns with his personal preferences. In your case, however, you’d be married off to whoever your father saw more fit for the kingdom's political situation.

You hated that fact. It truly wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to marry some stranger, you wanted to fall in love just like in those romance books you loved to read! But clearly that wasn’t going to happen.

Archie was far more pleasant than your other candidates for husband; you liked him, sure, but still, you didn’t love him. In fact, you didn’t even see yourself loving him in the future. He was a decent man, yet he came across as overly proper. His posture was so rigid it seemed as if he had a stick lodged in his back, and his table manners made you feel a bit self-conscious about your own; dear god, what if he was judging your table manners??

He spoke only when addressed and did so with extreme formality. He embodied the very definition of a gentleman. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, however he seemed to lack authenticity. It felt as though he had been conditioned by chivalry and etiquette to the point where he no longer could express any thoughts of his own.

Nonetheless, you made every effort to appear polite and gracious throughout the dinner. You were acutely aware of the importance of making a good impression, especially with your mother casting you stern glances that seemed to say, “Don’t mess this up.”

“Your Majesty, please do indulge in some of our finest fish! I know seafood is a rarity in Solandria, so please, help yourself to as much as you like. Our seas yield the world’s best salmon,” your father said cheerfully as the maids set several plates of smoked salmon before the guests. It was evident that he was eager to impress the Solandrian king and queen, who responded with a courteous nod and a smile.

After a few long hours of various dinner courses and the after-dinner music performances- an endeavor your mother insisted upon to impress the guests and showcase your kingdom’s cultural richness- you finally made your way to your chambers.

As much as you loved to indulge in music performances, the constant need to be at your best behaviour had really left you drained.

Thinking back to the performance, it seemed that Prince Archie was quite exhausted as well. His usual rigid posture had softened; he leaned back in his armchair, gripping its edges tightly as the loud music played on. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and his complexion appeared paler than usual.

Still, he was hiding his discomfort quite well, better than you at least. The only reason you had noticed his unease was because you had been staring at him for the past ten minutes, trying to decide if you were willing to have children with him or not; honestly, with his looks it’d be a shame not to.

It was quite strange that you hadn’t made eye contact yet, given your intense staring.

You let out a sigh, pushing thoughts about your soon-to-be husband from your mind as you prepare for bed. Once nestled beneath the soft covers, you wish your ladymaid goodnight and gradually drift off to sleep.

It was at breakfast when you learned of the unfortunate news: the prince of Solandria had died some time at night. The physician had stated that the cause of death was illness. Of course, the Wellington’s were devastated- their son showed no signs of illness and now he’s suddenly dropped dead. In response to their grievance the physycian only explained that the illness was one of which he’d never seen, and recommended the king impose a quarantine to prevent further deaths until apothecaries and herbalists could discover a remedy.

You feel a chill run down your spine at the thought of an unknown illness sweeping through the kingdom. Not to mention the quarantine. That could mean isolation for everyone, including you and your family. The mere idea filled you with dread; your freedom to step outside the palace was already incredibly limited, and now you might be confined to your room for weeks.

Your father nodded gravely at the physician’s suggestion, his expression serious and contemplative. By that afternoon, a quarantine was officially ordered. Guards would be stationed at every door to ensure no one could leave, and meals would be delivered directly to each family member's quarters.

The Wellingtons announced their intention to depart the following day, instructing that their carriage be prepared by then. It was understandable; their sole purpose for visiting had been to arrange their son’s wedding, and now he was no more. It was no surprise they wished to return home as swiftly as possible.

The whole situation was surreal to you. You were unsure of how to feel. You felt horrible for the prince and his family, of course, but you hadn’t known him that well. Grieving for someone you hardly knew felt strange.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt over your lack of intense sadness and care for the prince. He had been kind to you, he'd never done anything wrong to you, and yet here you were, struggling to feel a deep sense of sorrow for his passing. It wasn't that you didn't care at all, no, you did. But you felt that your reaction should be stronger, given that he was supposed to be your husband.

With a deep sigh, you lie down on your bed, feeling a sense of resignation. No one need know the true extent of your feelings, or lack thereof. You could just act devastated and everything would be fine. It wouldn't matter what you truly felt. Besides, given the quarantine, no would even see you for the next few weeks exept your lady-in-waiting.

The thought of being completely alone for the upcoming weeks was less than appealing. You stood up from the bed, and, hoping to find some distraction, moved briskly to the bookshelf, scanning the spines of books in search of something to cure your boredom.

You selected a book at random, hoping that the pages would provide some much-needed respite.

After what seemed like hours of reading, you just couldn't take it anymore. You needed to get out of here somehow. The maid had just brought you dinner, which you didn’t really feel like eating. In a few hours the maid would return to clear your meal and prepare you for bed. That’s when it struck you: now’s a window of time when no one would check on you, roughly four hours. The guards stationed outside your door offered no means of escape, the window however…

You gently untied the long silk bed sheets from her bedpost, carefully knotting them together into a sturdy rope. Your fingers trembled slightly. Once secure, you looped the makeshift ladder over the windowsill.

Taking a deep breath, you slipped out of her chamber onto the windowsill. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you carefully lowered yourself down, gripping the rope tightly. Below, just within reach, was a large oak tree- its branches sprawling close to the palace wall.

With a final glance back at your room, you began to descend. Once your feet found the first sturdy branch,you slowly eased yourself onto it and untied the knot around your waist.

Halfway down, you paused briefly to listen—no sounds of alarm or footsteps. Heart pounding in your chest, you continued until your feet touched the soft grass outside the palace walls.

You ran towards the hamlet village located just besides the royal palace. You wore one of your simpler dresses, making sure to blend in and not draw too much attention to yourself. This wasn’t your first time here, you had visited the village a number of times before and even sneaked some coins to the struggling families.

The village was a great place, probably your favourite place even. It really held a special place in your heart. Everyone there was so warm and friendly, it was as if the whole village was one big happy family.

Everything was simple there, no need for exquisite table manners or polite facades.

Your favourite part though was when the village would gather and dance around the fire and eat all kinds of goods every evening. It was comforting.

After spending some time participating in the dances and having friendly chit-chats with the villagers, you knew it was time to head back to the palace before your maid discovered your absence. Reluctantly saying farewell, you bid the villagers goodnight and made your way back to the royal residence, hoping to return unnoticed.

All was going well- you were practically in your room as you climbed up the bedsheet-rope. That is until a low "ahem" echoed through the silence, breaking your focus. Startled, you glanced down to find a palace guard standing below, the visor of his helmet hiding his visage, but his head unmistakably tilted in your direction.

“Oh..haha..good evening sir! I was just..taking a breath of fresh air is all..”

The knight seemed unamused with your cheap excuse. His stoic demeanor signaled that your attempt at nonchalance was far from successful.

"Taking a breath of air, were you, your highness?" The guard's voice was flat, laced with a hint of disbelief. "By scaling down the side of the palace wall?"

There was a moment of silence.

“Could you..maybe..perhaps..keep this a secret?” you said weakly, there wasn’t much you could do except beg him.

"And why should I keep this little escapade of yours a secret, my lady? If his royal majesty finds out about this both you and I will get in big trouble. Except for you it would mean a lecture and maybe heightened security, while for me it would mean beheading."

You grimaced at his words, he had every right to rat you out. But maybe you could convince him otherwise..?

“I understand it’s only right for you to report my escape to my father,” you said hurriedly, desperation creeping into your voice. “But I swear, sir- no one saw me. No one will even suspect I was gone for a few hours. If you keep this secret, I could speak well of you to my father. Convince him to elevate you in rank!”

The knight, however, still seemed unconvinced. He crossed his arms and stared up at you silently.

You sighed deeply before looking at him with pleading eyes,

“Just…please..?This is my chance at freedom. I’ll do anything for you to keep silent.”

The guard's stern expression remained hidden behind the visor, betraying no hint of his thoughts.

The weight of his decision seemed heavy on his shoulders, and he continued to stare in silence.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, his stance subtly shifted and his arms uncrossed. Something about your pleas seemed to strike a chord with him.

Then, without a single word, he suddenly turned and walked away briskly.

What?

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

He just… left?

Was that a ‘no’ or a ‘yes’? Did he want something from you? He hadn’t even given his name, so you couldn’t tell your father about him. You were left more puzzled than ever. Still, you quickly climbed through the window and hid away your handmade rope just before the maid knocked on your door.

She entered your room, taking note of your untouched dinner. You were lying on your bed, pretending to read a book.

“No appetite, my lady? I could ask the cook to make you something else, if you wish?”

You simply shook your head. You had stuffed your mouth with all sorts of delicious food at the village. You didn’t think you could handle any more.

“No thank you, Agatha. I’m not really hungry.” you replied, earning a nod from the woman.

That’s how the next few nights unfolded- every evening, the moment your maid dropped off you dinner you would quietly slip out of your window to visit the village. And almost every time, the same guard- Shinsou Hitoshi, as you later learned his name- would catch you again. Each encounter was silent; you would simply nod at each other and then continue on your way.

You were sprawled on the floor when Agatha brought you dinner. In one hand, you held a piece of fabric; in the other, a needle.

“Embroidery? Have you picked up a new hobby, my lady?” she asked curiously, placing the food on your bedside table.

You let out a bitter laugh. “‘Picked up’ is quite an overstatement. The only thing I’ve managed to pick up is this stupid needle, which I cannot for the life of me thread,” you groaned.

“Well, you have plenty of time to learn, princess,” Agatha chuckled softly at your frustration before her expression grew more somber. “It doesn’t seem like the herbalists are close to discovering more about the illness, so you’ll have to stay here a while longer.”

You huffed unhappily at her words.

“Are there no updates whatsoever? Absolutely nothing new?” you asked, sitting up from the floor.

“Many of the pigs have started dying,” she replied grimly. “We’re not quite sure why. I doubt it’s related to the illness, though.”

You sighed quietly before dismissing her.

Your night out went as usual- you had even made some friends at the village through your frequent visits. Dancing, eating, chatting- everything was perfect.

As you were returning home, climbing the rope to your room, your hand suddenly slipped, causing you to lose your grip. You gasped and closed your eyes, bracing for the fall. But it never came. Instead, you felt the cold touch of metal and heard a small grunt.

Your eyes fluttered open to find yourself face-to-face with piercing purple eyes peering at you through the slit of a visor. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Shinsou carefully placed you back on your feet.

He placed you back on your feet, his grip steady but cautious.

“You do realize that if I hadn’t caught you just then, you would have fallen to your death, right, princess?” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

“Oh… yes, of course! Thank you for saving me, Sir Hitoshi,” you replied hurriedly, trying to mask your embarrassment.

“You should stop sneaking out,” he added firmly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “What?” you exclaimed a bit louder than you intended.

“This is too risky. Too dangerous. I shouldn’t have agreed to keep this secret in the first place,” he said with conviction.

“No, you can’t out me! I’ll go crazy if I’m stuck in my room all day!” you protested. “The herbalists are nowhere near finding a cure, and even the pigs are dying off now,” your hands gesticulating your frustration. “If father finds out about this, I’ll never be allowed out again! No more dancing, singing, or delicious village food cooked with love. Instead, I’ll be stuck with the soulless dinners our so-called cook makes,” you complained bitterly.

You knew that Shisou most likely thought of you as a spoiled noble, who takes things for granted, but at this moment you couldn’t care less about what he thought of you.

The moment you finished your sentence, his head snapped sharply toward you.

“Wait, you don’t eat your dinners?” he inquired, his tone cautious.

“Uh... no? I usually eat dinner at the village,” you shrugged, confused as to why this was relevant to your conversation.

“And all leftovers go to the pigs, correct?”

“I think so, yes,” you replied, still puzzled by where he was going with this line of questioning.

He nodded to himself and mumbled almost inaudibly, “I had my theories, but this makes sense…”

“Huh? What are you even talking about?” you said, feeling a bit annoyed at his crypticness.

“Say, princess,” he continued, “if the quarantine was to be lifted, you wouldn’t have to sneak out anymore, right? I wouldn’t have to deal with you anymore?”

“I..yes? I suppose so?” you responded, a little offended but more surprised by the question itself.

He nodded again and then walked away quietly, murmuring something under his breath. You stood there flabbergasted, watching him go, your mind trying to make sense of the conversation you just had.

The next morning, you were surprised when Agatha told you to go to the main hall. Seeing your confused face, she shrugged. “A knight has asked for the royal family’s immediate attention.”

Huh?

You immediately thought of Shinsou’s words from last night. Was he going to tell the king about your escapes? Or was this about something else?

Trying not to overthink it, you quickly got dressed and headed to the main hall.

Your parents were already sitting on their thrones, regal and composed, while your brother entered right after you did. Once everyone was ready, your father nodded to a purple-haired knight to come forward.

“I sincerely hope that the matter is indeed important, seeing as we are risking our health at this moment,” he said with a hint of impatience.

“Of course, Your Majesty. I believe I have discovered something you will find useful.” When you heard the knight’s voice, you realized it was indeed Shinsou Hitoshi. You had never seen him without his helmet, and you had to admit: he was quite good-looking. Unruly indigo locks fell over his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. The dark shadows beneath his eyes accentuated the sharp, angular features of his face-likely a result of his night duties. High, angular cheekbones framed by a few stray strands of hair added to the intensity of his gaze.

You felt your cheeks heat up when his eyes met yours; his expression was still mostly inscrutable.

Why was he so hot???

Shinsou cleared his throat again, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“There are two things I wanted to tell you. First—I believe there is no illness. Second—there is a chance that someone has been trying to harm the princess.”

A collective gasp echoed through the hall, low murmurs spreading among the gathered knights and servants. Your eyes widened at his words.

What was he on about?

“Elaborate,” commanded the King, his voice edged with skepticism.

Shinsou nodded solemnly.

“I have a suspicion that the cause of the Solandrian prince’s death was a severe allergic reaction, not an illness. Most likely, he was allergic to fish but was unaware of his intolerance, as he had never experienced such symptoms before. I am confident that if we ask the maids and butlers, they will confirm that the prince showed signs of an allergic reaction shortly before his death. Conversely, there are no signs of a contagious disease spreading among others. If it had been an illness, I believe we would see at least some additional cases or fatalities—yet none have arisen.”

The King turned toward the royal physician, seeking confirmation.

“I... I suppose that could be a possible reason for his death,” the physician admitted hesitantly. “Quite... likely, actually.”

Your father’s expression darkened. “So, what you are telling me is that you suggested a quarantine to be ordered simply because you didn’t think of checking other possible causes?” he said, gritting his teeth. His tone was sharp, clearly displeased.

The physician nervously fiddled with his hands and lowered his gaze, clearly uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

Your father’s gaze shifted back to Shinsou and he signaled for him to continue.

“As for the princess,” Shinsou began carefully, “I believe someone has attempted to poison her. The sudden series of deaths among the pigs has nothing to do with any ‘illness’. The princess has not been eating dinner for the past few days, and if I’m not mistaken, all the leftovers are fed to the pigs. If there was poison in the food, it would explain why most of the pigs are unwell. To confirm this theory, I suggest the physicians perform a necropsy on the deceased animals or test their blood samples for toxins.”

He paused briefly, meeting the king’s eyes with calm confidence. “This way, we can determine whether foul play is involved and take appropriate action.”

The hall fell into a tense silence as everyone considered his words. Your father looked thoughtful.

“And how do you know that the Princess has not been eating dinner, Sir?” the Queen suddenly inquired, her voice sharp with suspicion.

Your eyes immediately met Shinsou’s, a look of desperation flashing across your face. He was going to tell on you. He was going to tell them about your sneak-outs. There was no way he wouldn’t—especially when your mother was questioning him so directly.

Shinsou’s gaze shifted back to the Queen, calm and composed.

You bit your lip, heart pounding as you anxiously waited for his next words.

“I overheard two of the maids worrying about it, Your Majesty,” he said smoothly, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

You blinked in surprise—he had lied to the Queen to protect you. You hadn’t expected him to do that, you felt a flicker of gratitude.

Shinsou’s eyes flickered to yours again, offering a barely perceptible ghost of a smile. You responded with a quick, grateful look.

After a moment of silence, the King finally spoke.

“Thank you for your input, Sir Hitoshi. The information you’ve provided will help us determine our next course of action. I believe it’s fitting to reward your loyalty.” He paused briefly before continuing. “Therefore, I promote you to Guard Knight of the Princess. If someone truly is trying to harm her, I trust that you will be able to protect her.”

What..?

You sharply turned your head towards your father with an unhappy look.

You didn’t need a personal guard! You were certainly fine as you were, you didn’t need Shinsou following your every step.

Shinsou bowed his head respectfully, a modest smile touching his lips, but you could see his eye twitch with annoyance.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I will do my utmost to fulfill my duties and ensure the princess’s safety.”

Ugh. What a disaster.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Reblogs and comments are appreciated though!

Deviders are by @thecutestgrotto !!

[talonabraxas]

Sowilo or Sowelu

The Sowelu Runa (Sol, Sigel, Sig, Saugil), the 16th glyph of the runic wheel, starts today, which will accompany us until February 26th.

Period of Manifestation

February 12 - February 26

Sowelu (Sol, Sigel, Sig, Saugil) represents the Sun, the power of the Sun, the life force of the Sun, understood as the imposing energy source of Light and Life. The Sowelu Runa is therefore synonymous with Energy, Life Force, and Honesty.

It is also called the Runa of Blooming, which urges us to fully use our talents, even if they appear inconcilable. But Sowelu is even a monito against presumption and depletion of energy reserves. In contrast to the defensive force of Algiz, the Sowelu solar force is of an aggressive matrix. Attempts to misuse this energy will culminate in darkness and despair.

Another characteristic of the Sowelu Runa is that it encompasses the greatest power that each of us has, that is the power of choice.

Divination

If the Runa del Sun emerges in the course of divination, a significant vitality or an unbridled spirit of enterprise is highlighted that pervades the consultant.

This rune has no reverse, so when it appears, you have to interpret it in the same way.

Sowilu is a very positive rune.

Associated with the Sun, inexhaustible source of light and energy, the Runa Sowelu announces that she is going through a great time in her life and that she has the strength to bring to an end all her projects, whatever they may be.

You can then take advantage of great mental clarity, and that allows you to channel your efforts well, provided you let yourself be guided by caution: a gift you should never lack! Sowelu, on top of that, has the power to eliminate the negative aspects that might be associated with another Runa that was launched.

The most important advice of this magical rune, however, is that you need to become aware of who you are, discover the source of your inner energy, the one that will always, until the end of your days, be there to light the way in the dark areas of irrational fears, helping to win them.

Also Sowelu tells us that it's an ideal time to find solutions and make decisions that have been postponed until now.

Sowelu therefore, predicts complete success in any project to undertake, ensures good health and significant vital energies to be channeled towards achieving one's objectives. Beware, however, the hidden monument of which previously mentioned: Sun, in fact, appears like a lightning that can strike suddenly, sweeping everything away in an instant, and the ideology that in the past used the power of this rune to dominate others has suffered inevitable destruction and ruin. Sol is not reversible as said before, but it can still indicate in an unfavorable context, that he has abused his own energy or misused it resulting in a loss of clarity in seeing the reality of things.

Regarding love, Sol tells us that it will be a period dominated by romantic feelings. It will be the star of romantic climaxes and it will draw the attention of many people...

Why not let go and seize the opportunity? It's possible that one of these adventures will last.

As far as work is concerned, Sol tells us that this is in general a positive period, so even at work you can take advantage of interesting meetings and interviews that can over time become extremely beneficial for your career.

While in Health, Sol tells us that we will experience a moment of great activity, both in the personal and professional sphere. It will be good, then, to alternate work with moments of relaxation, in which you can regenerate your energy and recover the strength to continue enjoying this positive period!

Correspondence

Syllabus : S Deity: Sun Tree: Ginepro Herb : Mistletoe Crystal : Ruby Color : White / Silver Animal : Eagle Tarot: XIX Major arcano - The Sun Astrology: Sun in Leo / Moon in fifth house I Ching: 64th Exagram, Wei Chi - Before Fulfillment. Fountain Thordis Elena Salatin Pagan calendar paths of light Runica the magic of the runes

Original Post by L'Antro celtico

[moonhoures]

Knew Better

🕷️ kinktober — day 26: spanking 🕸️

pairing: seungcheol (seventeen) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, spanking, marking, implied dom!cheol, husband!cheol <3, sir kink, pain kink (reader), reader is called ‘good girl’ and ‘baby’, cheol is called ‘honey’ and ‘baby’

word count: ~980

synopsis: accidentally standing your husband up for a lunch date leads to a punishment that is well deserved

a/n: happy halloween 🎃

posted: october 31, 2023

kinktober masterlist

The text you had just gotten from your husband might as well have said “You’re fucked”. You hadn’t done anything bad—that you were aware of, at least—but when you received a menacing text from him, you swiftly accepted your fate. Which was presumably a punishment for you when he would get home from work.

cheol 💍: You better be in that bedroom at 4 when I get off.

Those words haunted you for the following hours after you received it, each hour passing causing anxiety to creep further into your psyche. Had you said something? Did something? Not said something? Not done something? The thoughts flurrying in your brain were almost making you dizzy.

By 4 o’clock sharp you were in your bedroom, sitting at the edge of the bed with your hands in your lap. You twiddled your thumbs. Your bottom lip was being gnawed on restlessly between your teeth, sure to leave indents in the delicate skin. You flinched when you finally heard the front door open, then close. The threatening sounds of your husband’s footsteps making their way down the hall nearly sent your stomach up into your throat. When he finally appeared in the threshold of your room, your heart was almost beating out of its cage. What could you possibly have done that was so bad?

Despite your anxiety about the situation, you couldn’t help but find his looks and attitude extremely attractive. He was your husband after all. The casually styled hair. The untucked shirt. The tie he was already pulling loose as he looked at you with straight lips and dark eyes. It was all very enticing.

“So? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

You gulped, “No, honey, I don’t even know what this is about. Did I say something wrong?”

He chuckled, humorlessly, “No. No. You did, however, blow me off for our lunch date today.”

As soon as the words left his lips, you were gasping softly. You did blow him off. But not intentionally! In fact, as you made your own lunch today, you had a thought that you felt like you were forgetting something. It was an eerie thought, one that made you stop in your tracks with your plate in hand before you sat at the table to eat. But after a minute of nothing coming to mind, you came to the conclusion that it must not have been important. Oh, how wrong you were.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Cheol. I completely forgot,” you tried to explain, but your husband held his index finger to his lips and you instantly shut up.

“You’re lucky I’m in a decent mood today. You’ll only get ten.”

Instantly you felt relief flood into your entire being. Ten spanks; you could handle that. The last time you had gotten punished for sending nudes to him while he was at work, and he gave you a good thirty smacks (fifteen on each ass cheek). Your skin was marked for days and the subtle sting lasted even longer. You enjoyed a good spanking, but sometimes they could be more pain than pleasure. Ten would be perfect.

You tried not to seem to happy, in case he decided to up the number. You waited patiently and quietly, just like he always wanted you to be. When he sat beside you and patted his thigh, you climbed into the usual position.

Your knees dug into the mattress on one side of him while your hands secured your upper half on the other side of his lap. If you were to lower yourself, your stomach would be lying on top of his thighs. But he wanted you to use your strength to hold yourself up—this was a punishment after all.

“You’re gonna keep count like a good girl, right?” he asked.

“Yes sir.”

He hummed in approval, his hands already kneading your ass over your shorts. He did that for a moment before he unceremoniously tugged the garment down around your knees along with your underwear. Your cunt felt a cool breeze from the A/C circulating in the room; you shivered.

“And you’re already wet? I haven’t even done anything yet,” Seungcheol commented, shaking his head, “Let’s add another one.”

“Eleven?” you asked incredulously.

“Yep. Count ‘em.”

Slap.

You gasped, not expecting the first one so soon. After a second you said, “One.”

Nine slaps against your cheek later, that familiar, searing sting was permeating throughout your lower half. It didn’t help that he left his wedding ring on, which only hurt even more. You were almost certain there would be an outline of his hand as he did every single smack on your left ass cheek.

“How many is that again, baby?”

“Ten.”

“Make this lucky number eleven,” he smirked to himself as he landed one, last, good slap on top of the same spot he had been going at. Your body flinched at the impact, and your cunt clenched around nothing, oozing a little more arousal out. This wasn’t unnoticed by your oh-so-observant husband who then spread your cheeks apart to get a good look at it, “You really like this shit, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, secretly praying for him to touch you, lick you, fuck you, anything.

“You don’t really deserve to be treated nicely after your forgetfulness today, though, huh?”

“I’m sorry, baby, really. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. We can go to your favorite lunch place, my treat! I’ll even get dessert.”

He scoffed out a laugh, “So desperate. Well, I guess I can’t pass up a good dessert.”

You let out a small sigh of relief as you felt his fingertips rub over your wet cunt.

“I’m gonna hold you to that promise, though,” he added, “You better not forget it.”

“I won’t, honey. Promise.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @celestialplatinum @pinklemonadeflav @luvkpopp @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @cinnikoi @unlikelysublimenightmare @k-drizzle @neo-stay @v0relino @pedriswrld

— couldn’t tag

@multi05ho3st4n @nlklstan @fairygirl18 @thxbxx @iguanas-world @ddwaekk @love-me-a-little

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 15th

Noncon, Possessed!Swiss x Reader

Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

Words: 6.8k

Warnings: Noncon; extreme horror; dead dove: do not eat; explicit use of the word “rape” throughout; public masturbation; exhibitionism; possession; violence; demonic asphyxiation; victim blaming; face-slapping; sexual violence; rape; rape-kink; characters acknowledge that it’s rape; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; pain; degradation; public sex; mind break; underprepared; dacrophilia; unconcious sex; multiple scenes; dubcon; fear play; breeding kink; cum eating; accidental filming via security camera; creampie;

The Ghouls aren't demons in my fic. They're humans who work in the Ministry but they're a different class of profession, somewhere between personal assistants and body guards depending on the importance of Papa's task.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

**WARNING**

This is a work of fiction based in the extreme horror category and should be treated as such. I do not condone the actions the characters make, nor am I actively encouraging others to participate in such actions in everyday life. It also does not reflect the personalities of the performers who play these characters.

The purpose of this fic is to shock, scare, entertain, and make readers entirely uncomfortable. If you are not in a headspace where you can safely read and enjoy this story, or even if the trigger warnings make you uncomfortable, I highly recommend and encourage you not to read this. Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction.

If you are struggling to come to terms with past trauma, please talk to someone and seek professional help.

You deserve to feel safe, loved and cared for. Thank you.

Sometimes rituals went wrong. That was one of the things you learned when you first joined the Ministry. Rituals go wrong and not every demon is your friend. Of course, the more rituals one participated in determined the success of said ritual just down to the fact that experience was a key ingredient and so it was always recommended to bring someone who had experience to every single ritual just to be safe.

Papa Copia’s Ghouls were the more experienced ones in the Ministry, but more specifically Mountain, Rain, Swiss, and Dew. Yourself and Phantom were mere babes in comparison; sweet summer children who knew nothing of life and Satanism, only sex rituals on pentagrams give funny dreams and great orgasms. Because of this, you and Phantom walked into the ritual room with a bit of a pep in your steps, and no worries or concerns whatsoever - not concerning yourselves with seriousness or responsibility. This was just a regular, sex magick ritual surrounded by friends in order to contact the Olde One and get some advice is all. You had done this perfectly before, and you had no reason to think it wouldn’t happen again.

You, Rain and Mountain began lighting the candles in the room, ten of them to be precise. One for each of the pentagram’s corners, and a further five to outline the space in between. Dewdrop, the most experienced of everyone there, was in charge of drawing the pentagram from scratch. The first step was to scrub away the existing paint from a previous Sibling’s ritual.

“Why are we doing this?” Phantom asked as he wrung out the hot, soapy water from the sponge.

Dew sighed, “Did you not pay attention during training, Phantom?”

Swiss was now on his hands and knees next to Dew scrubbing at the red paint with a hard-bristled brush. “Clearly not. Look at those eyes: no thoughts just vibes.”

Phantom threw some of the soapy water at Swiss, in turn earning himself a middle finger. “I didn’t have time to study, remember? I was just thrown straight into life here after Aether…” Phantom trailed off, remembering how so many people in the room weren’t ready to talk about what happened. There was a brief silence while they all cast their minds back to their long lost friend.

“We clean off the old pentagram,” Dew said, clearly exasperated by his Satanic brothers, “because we don’t know what kind of ritual our Siblings performed before we got here. Cleaning the floor allows us to better control the safety of our ritual.”

“What could happen if we don’t clean up?” Phantom asked. “Moreover, what would happen if we just built upon these lines?”

“Oh come on, Phantom.” You said. “Even I know that.” Phantom got on his knees and began scrubbing away the paint on his third of the pentagram. “The cross energy between rituals and magic opens up a gateway for negative energy to come through. Sometimes that energy is just bad karma or bad luck, and you have one hell of a week.”

Swiss, “Literally.”

You continued, “Or it’s the souls of the damned coming through, or worse, demons.”

Phantom, “Has the Dark One ever travelled through these portals?”

Dew, “Probably. But He doesn’t do it often.”

“What I still don’t understand is why demons and damned souls would want to hurt us, we’re all on the same side, after all.”

Mountain, “Catholicism. You give energy to things you believe in, which in turn makes it more powerful, right?” Phantom nodded. “This is why Lucifer Himself wouldn’t come to harm us because we love and worship Him as a friend, a lover, a brother etc. But according to Catholicism, why does Hell exist?”

“To punish bad people after they die.”

“And what do we know happens to these bad people when they spend an eternity being tortured by demons?”

“They become demons themselves.”

“Good boy, have a Scooby snack.” Mountain threw a packet of mini-Oreos at Phantom, who caught it with one hand.

Rain, “Some of those bad people become demons, not all of them. The majority of demons are created by Lucifer as assistants to Him, and they’re usually picked from the petty criminals rather than genocidal maniacs and bigoted pricks. Like Mephistopheles, for example. He was just a businessman before he died. Think Ebenezer Scrooge, but in real life. Stole from the poor to put in his back pocket. In comparison to say, I don’t know, Stalin, he wasn’t too bad of a guy. If Mephistopheles showed up, we would have a great time sending him back. We’d just have to watch our wallets.”

Phantom, “And if it’s one of the dangerous ones, it would be catastrophic?”

Dew, “Absolutely. Papa and the Clergy would have to get involved. Papa would have to contact the Olde One directly to come and drag the beast away. Contacting the Olde One with the ritual that Papa would need could put Papa in mortal danger. So, we clean to save Papa as well as ourselves. So, make sure you get every spot, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

That was the first mistake made that night: no one double checked before the paint went down that the previous paint had been cleaned completely. From eye-level, everything looked squeaky. But what none of you realised at the time was there were small, insignificant specs of paint left in Swiss’ third. Insignificant specs, but by no means safe.

The second mistake was that when the candles were being placed on the freshly painted pentagram, one of them wasn’t precisely sat atop one of the points. The candles usually acted as an extra barrier of protection, essentially trapping something inside the pentagram if it came through uninvited. Lower level demons or spirits could still be trapped if the candles weren’t precise, but the higher level ones wouldn’t be stopped.

The five Ghouls were there to conduct the ritual on Papa’s behalf, you were there to provide the energy to allow them to do so. This wasn’t your first ritual and so you had no problems at all getting completely naked in front of the five men you considered to be close friends, and sitting in the centre of the pentagram. You’d been part of these rituals before with them, if you hadn’t already had a few of them balls deep inside you on multiple occasions beforehand. And so when they had all joined hands, you had no shyness or reservations about spreading your legs and exposing yourself to them. This would be the third mistake.

Swiss wasn’t concentrating fully. If you’d have opened your eyes and looked at your friends holding hands around you as they chanted, you would have seen Swiss looking directly at you with his mouth open, watching as you touched yourself surrounded by men. You would have seen that he was concentrating on your hands toying with your clit more than chanting the Latin required to safely perform the ritual. You could have stopped the ritual because of it - but you didn’t. You didn’t know that there was a problem.

Your head was thrown back in pleasure as your fingers worked over your clit. Your body was draining of energy the closer and closer you got to orgasm. In your line of sight, you could see Rain looking back at you but his mouth reciting the Latin he’d learned. You couldn’t see Rain’s eyes, though you were desperate to know what he looked like under there right now. All eyes were on you, and it turned you on so much to know that you were being intensely watched by five masked men as you dipped two fingers into your cunt and began to hit your g-spot.

Masked men, the fifth mistake.

Had they all removed their masks, everyone would have seen the biggest problem in the room: Swiss. Not only had he stopped chanting in order to concentrate on your wetness, but his head had begun twitching. Had he not worn his mask, others would have seen his eyes glaze over and roll back into his head. They’d have noticed the white dimming into pitch blackness. They’d have been able to break the circle and preemptively send the demon back to Hell before it could fully appear in the real world. But as hot as the masks were, and as much as you loved looking at them, they were impractical and unsafe for private rituals.

The air grew thick with an unholy presence, and a palpable darkness descended upon the ritual site. The very ground seemed to tremble beneath your feet as a foul wind swirled around you, extinguishing the candles one by one.

As the ritual reached its zenith, a sudden surge of malevolent force swept through the circle, causing you all to recoil in terror. Swiss let out a deep, yet blood curdling scream causing everyone in the room to stop what they were doing and freeze, yourself included. Your wet hand now removing itself from your core and your body sitting up straight in alarm. By the time you’d focused on him, Swiss had broken the circle and was cupping his head over his helmet, as though he was in immense pain. His screaming continued as he doubled over, bent at the waist and yelling at the floor. Swiss’ voice, now filled with an otherworldly resonance, grew louder and more insistent, his body trembling with an eerie energy. One of his hands began to hit at the mask in an attempt to stop whatever was causing him so much discomfort.

“Swiss!” Dew shouted, running over to his friend. “Brother, focus! Come back to us! Phantom! Go get help, now!”

Phantom nodded and ran out the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Swiss, it’s me: it’s Dew. What’s wrong, brother?”

“My… head!” Swiss exclaimed through gritted teeth. “It’s in my head!”

You stood up and dressed yourself, making sure that at least your habit was covering you. All the while, you watched as Dew frantically tried to get answers out of his brother, and figure out what went wrong so he could help. Swiss was still screaming, still trying to escape out of Dew’s grasp.

Then silence.

Swiss stood straight. Still. No more screams of pain, no more frantic Dew. You couldn’t even hear the world outside the ritual room. Just maddening silence that could drive a person to insanity if they were in it for too long. Everyone remained unmoving, fearing even breathing in case it triggered something. You wanted to leave, to escape the room and get help - or even just pull your friends out and save them. But your body wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t respond to your brain’s pleas to get the fuck away.

In that chilling moment, a grotesque transformation overtook Swiss. His voice, now distorted and filled with malice, spoke words that were not his own. It was a demon that had taken hold of him, a malefic entity summoned from the abyss.

The demon had been called forth by all of the mistakes made that night. It reveled in the chaos and despair that surrounded it, relishing the opportunity to wreak havoc upon the mortal realm. With Swiss as its vessel, the demon’s power knew no bounds.

The demon’s dark presence continued to grow, casting a sinister pall over the entire Ministry. Outside of the room, a sense of unease began to spread. Siblings and Ghouls alike could feel the malevolence that radiated from the heart of the Ministry, an unnatural darkness that seemed to seep into their very souls. It was as if the very fabric of reality had been torn asunder, and the boundary between the mortal realm and the abyss had grown thin.

Everyone was simply afraid to speak, to move, to even breathe. There was a comfort in the silence that couldn’t be explained other than Swiss hadn’t attacked anyone or made any movements. You weren’t even sure if Swiss was still in there. No one move, no one blink, no one make any sounds.

Swiss moved first - his head shifting from Ghoul to Ghoul to you as though he were studying you all. He seemed more like a caged animal than a human as he weighed up his options, though he wasn’t entirely registering what he was seeing. Each room was designed with at least some kind of demonic suppressor so you knew whoever had stolen Swiss from you didn’t have the full extent of his powers. But as he’d barely done anything, you still couldn’t gauge just how dangerous he was.

Suddenly, Swiss’ eyes locked onto you and focused on nothing else. Your body was still very scantily clad in your habit, your legs fully on display even though you were hiding behind Mountain. Swiss’ mouth curled up into a sinister smile. “He likes you.” Two voices emerged from his throat, the first being Swiss’ sweet timbre, the second the demonic entity inside of him. “I am in his head. I know. I see.” He took a small step forward. “He has sinned against you. He does so nightly.” Another step. “He imagines things in his chambers when he is alone. He wants to bury himself deep inside you. Even today during the ritual, he considered getting on his knees and taking you in front of everyone.” Another step. That was when you all realised the final mistake: you.

Swiss got possessed because he was watching you masturbate in front of him. He got possessed because he was craving your body, your touch. He got possessed because he was concentrating on how you’d feel wrapped around him and didn’t pay attention to the most important things. You never should have been chosen for the ritual. You never should have agreed.

Swiss spoke again. “I think we should give him what he wants, don’t you?”

“You stay away from her!” Dew shouted. He’d gained enough confidence and bravery to step forward, arms outstretched, and ready to restrain Swiss. Or at least attempt to anyway. Dew was much, much smaller than Swiss, so even when he wasn’t possessed by a demonic entity, restraining him alone would have been damn near impossible. But the added power now coursing through Swiss’ human veins made restraint way more difficult.

All Swiss had to do was lift his hand and Dew was levitating from the ground. A simple push saw Dew flying backwards, his head smacking against the wall and his body falling limp to the floor.

“Dew!” Rain shouted. It was a natural reflex done out of fear and it caused him to lurch forward. The demon, presuming Rain had moved to attack him, copied the motion and threw Rain against the wall too, the sweetest of all the Ghouls now unmoving on the other side of the room.

Mountain still held you behind him and for every step the demon took towards you, Mountain moved you backwards. You could tell he was trying to move you towards the door without taking his eyes off of Swiss. But deep down you both knew that while Mountain was a worthy opponent for Swiss, he was no match for the thing possessing him. All Mountain could do was hope that you at least got out of the room safely especially now that the demon had its eyes on you.

“Give her willingly and your life will be spared.” Swiss’ two voices cut through the panicked silence.

“No.” Mountain said.

Swiss raised his hand into a fist and concentrated on Mountain. Mountain, like the others, was now being raised off the ground, but this time Swiss was being torturous, enjoying the pain he was inflicting internally. Mountain grasped at his throat as if a hand had been wrapped around it, and struggled to get air into his lungs. “___,” he choked out, “go!”

Somehow your body responded to the sound of his voice and you made a break for the door. There was a part of you that knew you’d never reach it - that knew you’d end up in a worse fate than your friends, but you still tried anyway. Maybe if you left, you would be able to find more help to bring. Maybe you’d run into Phantom or Papa, just someone who could come and save everyone. You refused to believe that they were all dead - you would have given up if you thought that. So for all the good it did you, you chose to run. You chose to fight as best you could.

Behind you, Mountain’s body thudded to the floor, but you could hear him gasping for breath. Swiss, who was now focussing on you trying to make your escape, didn’t put the full extent of his powers into hurting Mountain as he did Dewdrop and Rain. Mountain was weakened from the impact but he wasn’t unconscious… yet. But now you had no protection - now you were completely vulnerable.

You managed to get the door open, but by then, it was too late, Swiss had already come up behind you and slammed it shut again. His large hands grabbed onto your waist, thick fingers digging into your flesh and manoeuvring you to where he wanted you. Your own back slammed against the door and you were met with Swiss’ cold, unfeeling mask, glass eyepieces only showing a glimpse of the blackened eyes that had completely stripped away the humanity from one of your closest friends. His once beautiful smile brought you nothing but happiness now evil and no doubt the last thing you’d ever see. You struggled, fighting against the unholy strength that had caught you, but of course, you were no match for him - in fact, he seemed to enjoy you struggling. In your frantic movements, your hip grazed his and you felt his cock now standing hard beneath his Ghoulish uniform. You knew what was coming.

He cackled, the two voices giving a creepier edge to something so joyous. His free hand came to remove the helmet and allowed you to gaze at the face that was going to bring you so much pain. His eyes were, indeed, as black as you’d been told. Veins were popping from beneath his skin, no doubt Swiss straining from the inside to expel the demon from within but failing miserably. Even though you could hear it wasn’t Swiss, and you could see the eyes certainly weren’t his, it was so difficult to differentiate between demon and human. Your brain struggled reminding you that Swiss wasn’t the one who’d hurt your friends; that he wasn’t the one rubbing his clothed cock against your thigh; that his hand wasn’t squeezing one of your soft breasts so painfully hard; that it wasn’t his tongue licking a stripe from your neck to your ear.

You pushed against his large chest trying to distance yourself, but it was as if you were trying to move the Ministry itself. He wasn’t budging. “Get. Off. Me!” You grunted in your exertion.

“This Ghoul wants you - you would deny him? You would deny him after the show you put on for him?”

“There was no show!”

“Really? Because you angled your body to give him the perfect view of,” the hand that was on your breast now moved to your crotch and gripped your vulva tightly - so tightly you screamed, “this cunt. You wanted him to touch you. You were asking for him to take you. Begging for it, were you not?”

“I wasn’t!”

“Lying whore!” He slapped your face hard enough to leave a mark, the bite knocking you off kilter for a second and making the room spin. He grasped hold of your cheeks and forced you to look at him. He took his opportunity to kiss you, forcefully pressing his mouth to yours and using his tongue to lick over your unresponsive lips. Taking this opportunity, you kneed him in his crotch now extra sensitive from all the blood that had pooled there. This gave you enough respite from his attack to push him away from you and attempt an escape. The door was locked shut this time, though. And it didn’t matter anyway, he was faster than you thought.

His thick forearm wrapped around your neck and pulled your body flush against his. “You like pain, hm?” This time, when he spoke, he used only Swiss’ voice. He tightened his arm and began cutting off the air supply to your lungs. “You want me to make it hurt?”

“Swiss!” You choked from his anaconda-like grasp. “Stop!”

“He cannot help you now, little one. But I have made sure he can see everything.”

With one hand on your shoulder, he released you from his chokehold long enough to push you hard to the ground. As you stumbled and collapsed, you felt the skirt of your habit rising up over your bare ass cheeks, which earned another menacing snicker from the demon. “Look at you. The little Jezebel is ready for her master’s cock.”

“No!”

You got onto your hands and knees ready to stand and run, but you felt Swiss’ boot on your exposed backside and stamping you back down flush to the floor. Wasting no more time or effort, he straddled your hips to keep you pinned down and pressed his entire weight onto you. Over the sound of your struggling, you heard his jeans zipper undoing.

“Still some energy in you, I see.” He taunted as he placed his hands where his thighs were and moved further down your body, still fighting you. “I wonder how long that will last.”

You braved a look behind you to see if there was anything further you could do, but caught a glimpse of what Swiss was sporting under his clothes. Now he was fully exposed, you truly saw his length and girth for what it was and dread pooled in your stomach. The pain you were about to feel was beyond terrifying.

“Which hole should we rape?” Swiss asked, lining himself up with your ass and rubbing against the rim. “This one?”

“No! Please! Let me go!”

“Or this one?” He then rubbed over the entrance to your cunt and gasped. “She is wet! The whore is ready to accept Satan’s gift! She wants it even though she deludes herself otherwise.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Ghoul, which hole do you fantasize about the most, hm? Which one do you want us to rape today?” There was silence for a moment and you could swear you heard Swiss’ screams - similar screams to when he was first possessed. “Her tight, little cunt hm?”

He lined up once more with your hole, and you tried again to escape from underneath him. “Swiss! Please stop! Please! No!” Your wriggling proved useless when you felt him press inside you.

The pain was beyond anything you’d felt before, a searing white hot pain that shot through your entire body and only continued the more of him entered you. He wasn’t gentle with his movements, as expected from a demon. He bottomed out almost immediately, hitting your cervix roughly and causing you to scream. “He was right,” Swiss said, “you do feel incredible. This hole was made for cock, no wonder he spent all his time drooling over you.” He pulled out and thrust back in laughing at your pain-filled scream. “I have kept him awake so that he can remember this gift the Unholy Father has bestowed. More material for him to think about in the darkness of his room.”

“Please, stop!” Your voice was high pitched now and tears were staining your cheeks as your hands covered your mouth to muffle your cries. Your distraught sobs caught the demon’s attention, however, and he wanted his gratification.

He wrapped Swiss’ hand in your hair and tugged your face off the floor. Your mouth was hung open from your weeping and your screams escaped every time he thrust in and hit your cervix. “That is right, scream for him. Let him know how good you feel on his cock.” The sound of your cunt swallowing him made him speed up his movements, entirely enthralled by your body accepting him properly. “Show him how you love being raped by his fat cock.”

“P-please stop!”

He groaned. “Keep begging for me to stop. Keep crying for me. You get tighter every. Single. Time.” He thrust between each word, getting rougher and rougher with you.

With his hand in your hair, your head was lifted and you could look around the room. As your body was pushed along the floor by the power of his hips, your tears blurred your vision but you could still see your friends laying lifeless in front of you - spread in all manner of ways. None of them could save you. None of them could help you. If they were even alive. Your thoughts turned to Phantom, outside of this room searching for someone to come and exorcise the demon back to Hell. Your fear became overpowering at the thought of the sweet newcomer walking in and seeing you pinned beneath Swiss, being raped by someone you all used to love and trust. Would anyone else understand that this wasn’t Swiss hurting you? Would Swiss even survive the exorcism?

In a moment of adrenaline from the fear you felt, you shifted your body using all the strength you could muster. You wrapped your legs around his calves, swung your arm to hit his face and proceeded to turn as if you were about to lie on your back. Swiss didn’t anticipate this and so slipped out of you for a brief moment, falling off of you. Wasting no time, your weak legs forced you onto your feet and you ran towards the door once more. Your brain was clearer than before allowing you to unlock the door this time. But as you opened it, once again, Swiss pushed it closed.

“Clearly I have not broken you yet.”

By the collar of your habit, he pulled you back to give him the space to stand in front of you. His hand, now tightly closed in a fist, backhanded your cheek and all you saw was black.

When you came to, your jaw ached so badly. Your vision was blurred and it took a while to come to. Your hands were held above your head as you lay on your back, a large hand holding them together and restraining you. As your head was turned to its side, you saw Mountain and Rain laying next to each other, still entirely unconscious and unmoving. But you were still being attacked.

Now that you were pinned to the floor, and had been out for you didn’t know how long, Swiss had chance to fully savour you. Your habit had been torn town the middle, exposing you completely to the demonic eyes you were now staring into, those very eyes entranced by the way your breasts bounced from the roughness of his thrusts. His cock was now spearing into you much harder than before, the position allowing him to fuck into you deeper. His pubic mound was grinding against your clit as he pounded away, and for the first time that night you were feeling pleasure with the pain.

“I knew you wanted this.” Swiss said from above you upon hearing the small pleasured whimper that escaped you. “I knew you were a whore who loved getting raped. How you would spread your legs for anyone who offered you a bit of attention. I am not wrong, am I?” You moaned again accidentally, this time louder. “Say it. Tell me how much you love it. Tell him that you love it when he rapes you.” When you didn’t obey, he wrapped his hands around your throat. “Say it!”

“I love it!” You shouted reluctantly. “I love being raped!”

Somehow this wasn’t a lie. Since waking up, every hit against your cervix, every drag of his cock against your walls felt delicious. The demonic black of his eyes, the thick hands that held you down had you spreading your legs wider to let him continue abusing your hole. You were getting wetter and wetter with each thrust, more desperate to cum than ever before. You fear dissipated and was replaced with nothing but cock. The weight of it driving you crazy, the way he used you for his own pleasure and revelled in your agony. How he lowered himself to lick your tears away and bury himself inside you over and over again.

“There you go. That was not difficult. You got so much tighter too.”

Your screams turned from pain to desperation. Your mouth hung open in a perfect O. His cock had broken you, stripped you of everything and turned you into his own, personal toy. You sat up as much as you could to see where you both were connected. You saw the base of his cock was rimmed with white where your wetness had turned to cream and stuck in his pubic hairs. Each pull out of you had multiple strings of your own juices forming and snapping. You could feel yourself spilling out of your hole and running down your body, gathering on the wooden floor below you. Fuck! It felt so fucking good.

“Will you cum on his cock? Will you cum on the cock that rapes you?”

“Yes!” You screamed looking back up into his eyes. “I’m gonna c-cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-!”

The door opened right as your orgasm hit, your mind clouding over and drool dripping from your mouth as you came all over Swiss’ cock. The last thing you remember seeing was Papa Copia’s eyes look into yours in horror as you came like a desperate whore while your close friend took you against your will. Then the world went black.

When you came to, your eyes refused to open at first. Your head was pounding from the physical trauma and there was a deep-seated pain in your core that sent stabbing pains through your legs every time you moved them.You groaned and tried to sit up but your body refused to respond. The heart monitor beside you kept bleeping letting you know that you were, in fact, alive, but also that you were currently in the infirmary. But there was another sound coming from the foot of your incredibly uncomfortable bed. When your eyes finally opened it took you a while to fully process what you were seeing.

Swiss.

In a moment of pure fear, you panicked and tried to move further up the bed, as far away from him as you possibly could. You could feel a scream building in your throat, but your jaw hurt you too much to move it. Even still, your fear didn’t care. Swiss’ eyes were back to normal, and glassy with unshed tears. His face, pale and sickly, stained with the tears he had cried. He looked awful - his veins tinted a little black from the pressure of the demon inhabiting his body.

“Please, don’t scream!” He said quickly. “It’s me again. The demon’s gone.” You wanted to open your mouth and ask him what he was doing there, but your jaw wouldn’t move. “Your jaw isn’t broken, but it’s badly bruised from where I…” He started crying again, burying his head on your bed. “I’m so fucking sorry!” He wept hard, your heart breaking for him every time you saw his shoulders violently shake. “I hurt you so b-bad. I’m so sorry! I d-didn’t want to do any of th-those things. I tried - I tried to stop but it was t-too… strong. It w-wasn’t me!”

Deep down you knew it wasn’t. You knew Swiss would never hurt you like that because he never had. He’d never shown that level of ferocity and violence to anyone or anything. He was the kindest soul in the Ministry - a ray of sunlight the morning after a storm. Before all of this, you would have trusted him with anything, your life included. But even though reason told you he wasn’t the monster that attacked you, your brain still registered him as the attacker. When you saw his eyes before he hid them, you could have sworn for a brief moment they were still black. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it was okay and you forgave him even though there wasn’t anything to forgive. But there was such a hesitation. An annoying voice in the back of your head saying “what if”? What if that really was him? What if they didn’t exorcise the demon out? They must have otherwise he’d be in chains in the dungeons right now. So, you reached your hand out and touched his head, gently stroking at his hair. Tears were falling down your face too as your brain replayed the trauma.

When you both had calmed down a little, and Swiss was no longer hiding his face from you, you both sat in silence staring at each other. You were studying his face for imperfections and signals that he was unsafe, and he was studying yours for any hints of fear that should tell him he needed to go. “I know it’s selfish of me being here.” He said. “It only happened yesterday. I’m not supposed to be here. Papa’s going to come and talk to you when you’re feeling stronger, he wants you to decide my punishment.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to punish him.

“Everyone else is fine. Dew has a broken shoulder but he’ll live. Rain has concussion. Mountain’s up and out of the infirmary with no problems at all.” Your mind cast itself back to yesterday, watching Swiss barrel through them and throw them around like children’s toys. How helpless you felt when he was inside you and they were all in the room, knocked out from his attack. How none of them helped you.

“I shouldn’t have come but I needed to see you. I feel so guilty. I…” he hesitated. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I felt everything the de- he did to you. I heard everything, saw everything, felt everything. And you felt so… especially when… fuck! I know I shouldn’t but I keep remembering and my body reacts. I’ve used my hand so many times since but nothing compares to… I need it. I need you. One more time. Please.”

There was a feeling of dread pooling in your stomach again but you could understand where he was coming from. Since you’d been awake and your mind was showing you the images from yesterday, you were also losing your mind. You remembered everything in graphic detail, especially how good it felt when you woke up on the floor. Arousal began to replace the dread and your thighs rubbed together, making you hiss in pain. But the pain and the arousal seemed to control you, and for some reason unbeknownst to you, you nodded your head.

Swiss didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back the comforter and climbed onto the bed. He lifted up the infirmary nightgown you were wearing and exposed your abused hole to him. You could see his cock tenting through his own nightgown at the sight of you. You were so broken and vulnerable, and it did things to him he knew he’d feel guilty for later on. But he just couldn’t resist any longer. It was like he was addicted to you. To it. “I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.” He told you. He lifted your gown further up to expose your breasts again before pulling himself free and lining himself up. You wanted to tell him to not be gentle, to disrespect you like he had yesterday, but the words couldn’t come out.

Pushing into you, you felt the same searing pain you felt the first time he did. You were so under prepared yesterday and even more so today. But after a few uncomfortable thrusts, the pleasure returned once more, and your hands, now finally responding, flew to his shoulders and grasped on, digging your nails into his skin.

His mouth had hung open and his own grunts and moans were escaping as he lost himself in the pleasure and the memory of your fear. You were deprived of this yesterday - and you were convinced that if you’d heard how good he felt, you’d have given up fighting long before you did.

“You feel even better than yesterday.” He muttered. His thrusts got rougher and you could feel the infirmary bed moving beneath you, groaning at the weight and the intense movement. “I kept thinking about how wet you got. The way you creamed on my fucking cock. I came twice to that thought alone. Fuck!”

Though your jaw was in pain, you were still able to whimper from the feeling of his fat cock railing you in a similar fashion to yesterday. Your own noises kept spurring him on.

“And when you screamed, yelling out how much you loved me raping you. Fucking hell. I want to hear it again. I want to hear you beg me to rape you over and fucking over. I want to keep you speared on my cock and make you cum on it because I just won’t stop raping you.”

You tightened at the thought, which made him let out a particularly loud moan.

“You want that, too?”

You nodded.

“Fuck. You want me to turn you into a little fucking rape toy, hm? A fuck-slut that’s only good for taking my fucking cum against her will. Have you beg me to stop while also sucking my cock back into your little hole.”

You dug your nails in again which prompted his hips to smack forward and whack your cervix.

“I’ll do it. Shit. I’ll find you when you’re out of the infirmary and I’ll force you to the fucking floor. I’ll take what I want from you when I want. You want that?”

You nodded.

“Fucking hell, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum again. I came inside you yesterday too. They had a hard time pulling me off you. I just kept holding onto your hips and railing you into the floor. I’m gonna keep doing it now. Use you as my fucking cum receptacle. Rape a baby into you too. Show everyone who this hole belongs to.”

You tightened and moaned again.

“I went feral when they pulled me off of you and I saw my cum spilling out. Proof that I’d - fuck I’m cu-cumming!”

Once again he pushed himself as far into you as he possibly could and stilled, painting your walls with his seed.

No one else had ever made you feel that good before. The fact that he was recreating the shared trauma also did things to you that you couldn’t quite explain. You knew he was suffering as much as you were, that the guilt was eating away at him in the same way the fear was. Maybe that was why you willingly spread your legs for him this time, because you needed someone who knew to make you feel good.

When he’d finished, he watched himself spilling out of you. “Fuck…” he lamented. “No tissues. You didn’t cum.”

You wanted to tell him not to bother, that a nurse might show up midway through. You knew how bad it would look that the man who’d raped you had come back for seconds not twenty-four hours after the incident. But even if you could speak, he wouldn’t listen.

He bent down and placed his tongue in your hole, licking his cum out of you. He swirled his tongue around your cunt, trying to find the parts of you that would tip you over the edge. Once he’d determined that you were clean enough, he moved up to your clit and sucked. Hard. It was like he knew that his treatment of you yesterday meant that you needed it rough today too, and so he did his best to deliver. He didn’t let up until you came on his face, your own juices spilling out of you. You did your best to muffle the scream that was threatening to come out of you as you tipped over the edge, hyper-aware of the fact that a nurse could come rushing in to make sure you were okay. Swiss knew this too and so finished up as quickly as he possibly could.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nodded and watched him press a kiss to your temple, completely juxtaposing his treatment of you both yesterday and today before making his exit back to his own ward.

You watched him leave and let your eyes wander around the room. That was when you noticed it and froze in panic. There was a security camera in the top corner of the room… and it had just captured everything.

Kinktober: Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

Hellish Delights:

Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

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[remus-poopin]

It seems like you somehow manage to have one foot in the marauders fandom and one in the snape fandom and I’m so impressed. How do you do it?

Also, since you get to see both sides of things I’m wondering what you like the most about each fandom?

Ok this is an interesting question! Honestly I think I’m able to do this, and do this enjoyably, because I really try to make an effort to not moralize. This hasn’t always been how I interacted with fiction in the past, so it’s been a tricky process of learning how to do this with consistency. But it is something that I think is very important for me to do, not only because I have a better time in fandom when I'm not moralizing, but also because it inspires a sort of self reflection and allows me to practice empathy in a way that’s feels more analytical than emotional/inherent. And in the case of navigating two fandoms that have a built in tension between them, this becomes especially helpful.

The tension between the snape and marauders fandom almost always comes down to moralizing. The back and forth arguments between fans are usually rooted in the idea that the other character is not only morally flawed, but more morally flawed than theirs. If you look at any anti Snape or anti James post there’s an underlying agenda that’s trying to prove one is worse than the other. This is pretty irritating to me because I find it to be very boring, silly, and just missing the point of the characters and themes. But this is also irritating because I find that it's ineffective in producing any real meaningful analysis on these characters. Because the goal is not to understand that character, but to condemn them.

(This doesn’t mean that I think you shouldn’t examine the behavior of the characters, just that assigning a moral judgment to that behavior outside the world of that character leads to heavily biased analysis (meaning making it personal and about your standard of morality leads to a messy understanding of the character and story))

Going back to the tension between these fandoms, I think when you’re busy trying to prove how shitty a fictional character is you have a hard time separating them from their fans. Because it’s not really about the character anymore it’s about you and your personal feelings and beliefs.

I very frequently run into posts talking about “snape defenders” and “marauders defenders”, like this is some kind of battle where a side needs to be picked, and then picking a side is a reflection of your morality and politics (I’ve seen marauders fans imply that “snape defenders” are fascists or fascist sympathizers and I’ve seen snape fans call marauders fans “class traitors”, all in the last couple days mind you).

I’m going to be honest and say that whenever this pops up it’s gets pretty frustrating, frustrating because it feels like people are just using these characters as avatars for larger discussions they actually want to be having, but because these characters have specific stories, motivations, and complexities it makes this extremely messy (want to vent about the cult of conservatism that's growing all around us? Bring out the Snape Ken doll and talk about how he deserved his bullying (if he even was bullied)! Hate feeling the weight of capitalism on your chest while the class divide grows larger and larger? Call James “bourgeois scum”!)

(Or as @sideprince wisely said, it’s a way to be political without actually engaging in politics)

So yes I find this tiring, but I also really get it. I have done some form of this myself plenty of times. I am not immune to moralizing or having these same type of strong emotional reactions to a fictional character. In fact, I had this very recently when I watched “Girls” for the first time last month. Until maybe this week I felt a strong hatred for the character “Adam”. This hatred came from seeing him do something in a scene that I considered to be morally repugnant. The scene itself was incredibly graphic and triggering to the point where I had to stop watching the show for a couple days. The disgust response firing in my brain made it so I was incapable of viewing his character as anything but a POS, and all the complexities of him were lost because I refused to engage with them. So all his actions after that were viewed with a moral judgement from me. I mean even when he was being funny, sweet, or just interesting I felt incredibly annoyed because I desperately didn’t want to like him. However I was cognizant of the fact that I was having this sort of moral reaction to fiction because this is a show that is defined by its complex, complicated, and realistic characters, who have all done some very questionable things, and yet he was the only character getting this treatment in my head. So feeling frustrated with my own hypocrisy I decided that I needed to start approaching this differently.

So I made a choice to look at his action, the one that I found disgusting, and start breaking it down: Why did he do that? What was it saying about his relation to shame, power, control, violence, sex, gender, etc.? How else has he reacted to those issues in the show? I kept asking those types of questions, on and on, until suddenly I wasn’t just thinking about the disgusting act itself, but the character. The act stopped being about my own feelings and trauma and became about him.

That’s what I do with the marauders and snape, that’s what I strive to do with any fictional character, because to me that’s the most enjoyable way to engage with fiction. And I find that the fun I have in fandom is greatly limited when I’m pissed at a character, because it makes it difficult to interact with others who are their fans. If I see that someone is playing with that character, a little voice would go, “but what about my anger?” followed by a sharp sting. That type of anger, that moral anger, is personal, but this character is public, it lives beyond me and my feelings. My anger is mine, it never belonged to the public.

And I have at some point felt that same type of moral disgust/anger for both the marauders and snape. But I zeroed in on what specific action was making me feel that way, tried to understand why I had that reaction in the first place, and then went back to the action itself and tried to contextualize it within the character and story so it was removed from myself.

That’s how I’ve been helping myself with the moralizing issue. I’ll still have these reactions in the future, I might even have one on here, but I'll keep working on it. Because either way I love all of these characters and I want to continue to be able to exist in both fandoms without having to choose a side, or even lean a certain way. When you're not trying to win the war on which character was the Shittiest™ the pressure turns off and you can just enjoy these multifaceted characters with their many flaws and many strengths.

And as for what I like most about each fandom: I adore the snapedom because I've always felt that the best meta in the entire hp fandom came from there. Honestly the whole reason I love snape so much wasn't because I ever felt particularly identified with him, but because I read a billion incredible metas and analyses about him and truly came to appreciate his complexities.

For the marauders side I think I really enjoy the camaraderie, there are a lot of really sweet and cool people I’ve talked to on here and that's always been a blast!