#it feels very lonely in a way i cannot describe

[terryfuckingturniptruck]

.

[strang3lov3]

Click Here

You and Joel both know how he got that virus on his computer, and you can’t help but to relentlessly tease him in more ways than one…until Joel’s had enough.

Alternatively, Joel should really stop clicking on links that Tommy emails him. (7.6k)

Tags - neighbor!joel, grumpy!joel, pre/no outbreak, porn watching, joel straight jorkin’ his peanits, teasing, lingerie, handjobs, upside down blowjobs (like what happened in spider man), rough sex, manhandling, oral (f receiving), come eating, fingering, overstim, soft dom!joel, porn watching, reader has a bush but is otherwise not described Fic Help - @joeloverture, @joelsgreys, and @endlessthxxghts for their beautiful brains, and @noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal for editing and patiently explaining dial up internet to me for this fic 🩷👾📀🖥️ Patti, I seriously cannot thank you enough. You made this fic fucking perfect. A/N - sorry for the delay on getting joel out to you in a timely manner, he should be cumming a lot more frequently…maybe. I do have a vacation I’m leaving for in less than a week. Also, thank you for all the well wishes and participation on my anniversary/5k celebration, I love you all so very much 🩷

masterlist

You know what you came here for. Grumpy, technologically inept Joel fucking the daylights out of you below 👇🖥️🦠🛜👾😍🍑👅💦🍆

It's early evening on a Saturday and finally time for Joel to enjoy his day off. He spent the day doing yard work, grocery shopping, and chauffeuring his daughter to and from soccer games. Saturdays are never really very relaxing for him, so when he has a quiet moment, like right now, he takes advantage. 

Joel draws the curtains closed in his kitchen as he stares at his computer setup and contemplates, even though his mind is already made up. It’s a sign - there’s a Victoria’s Secret coupon set that’s been sitting on his kitchen counter since this morning, addressed to you of course. Damn mailman can’t get anything right. 

He sits down on the chair in front of the monitor and powers the machine on, opens the tower’s disc drive and inserts his AOL CD before opening the matching AOL application. He has a post-it taped to the bottom of a drawer next to him that he reads from every time to remember his username and password. Joel grumbles to himself as he unzips his jeans, something about ‘damn thing’s always takin’ too long to load’ as the screen goes from dialing to connecting to connected. Netscape takes even longer to load, but when it finally does Joel visits his favorite website, victoriassecret.com. He works his half-hard cock in one hand, feeling it stiffen in his palm as the screen loads slowly, images of lingerie-clad models coming to life bit by bit. Joel groans and squeezes himself. 

He knows that jerking off to Victoria's Secret advertisements is juvenile at best. He knows other porn exists, he’s got old dirty Playboy magazines from his teenage years and even some bootleg VHS tapes that his brother Tommy copied for him. He’s tried to watch them, but they’re all sort of sterile and awkward, the dialogue fake and the women’s moans exaggerated and over the top, it takes him out of the fantasy. They can also only be played on the television in the living room, which is not ideal for a number of reasons.

 Joel also knows that the women in these advertisements are not real, that they’re airbrushed and photoshopped to the point of looking like Barbie dolls. He knows that they have more curves and body hair than what he’s looking at on his screen, that they have cellulite, stretch marks, and all of the other things he loves on a woman’s body. But Joel is nothing but a man, and a lonely one at that. A hard worker and a dedicated father, he doesn’t have much time for dating. And importantly to Joel, Victoria’s Secret advertisements allow him to do something his dirty magazines and bootleg VHS tapes can’t - use his imagination. 

Oh yes, Joel loves when a little mystery is left for him, to pique his interests. He loves to imagine what the model’s breasts look like, if they’re more round-shaped, or like tear drops. Would they hang heavy, swaying when she moved, or would they point outward, petite and perky? How dark or light are their nipples and what would they look like when hard? He loves to picture their vulvas, to visualize what their folds would look like spread in front of him, to envision how they maintain their pubic hair. He wonders what they look like when they’re wet, lips all swollen. It thrills him, excites him. 

His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s pumping his cock when a loud email notification from tommyboy69er@aol.com interrupts him. “Fuckin’ Tommy,” he mutters, clicking on the popup. 

here’s this for your spank bank pervert 

No greeting, no goodbye, nothing capitalized and no punctuation. Just one blue link and nothing else. Joel rolls his eyes but clicks the link anyway, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.

Just like before, it takes a moment to load but when it finally does, Joel blushes. It’s a porn site where people appear to upload their own porn. It seems expansive, all sorts of categories. Immediately, Joel’s intrigued - he didn’t realize that this kind of stuff was available online. He guesses that he probably should have known that, but rationalizes that he doesn’t use the internet much. His computer is meant for a few things - playing Microsoft Pinball, emailing clients, and browsing Victoria's Secret during times like this. But this - this might’ve just changed the game. 

From the thumbnails, these appear to be real people. People of all ages, from young adults to older lovers. Nudity plastered across his screen in all different shapes and sizes, a variety of lengths and cup sizes before him. There are people consensually exploring kinks and couples in love, everyone engaging in a variety of different sexual acts from solo stuff to threesomes to orgies. This has it all, gay, straight,  and everything in between. After scrolling through, Joel notices that there’s a little magnifying glass to search for whatever one may fancy. Joel clicks on this and he first searches ‘boobs’. Then ‘big boobs’, ‘small boobs’, ‘blowjobs’, ‘doggy style’. With each search term he types in, the screen loads with various videos of his request. And then, just for shits and giggles, he searches for his favorite - ‘lingerie’.

The results are everything he dreamed of. Forget Victoria’s Secret, this has it all. Women of different sizes and skin tones, all in various stages of undress. Some wearing bras and panties, others wearing lace babydolls and teddies. One particular thumbnail has his interest piqued, though. It’s a woman in a robe, leaning towards the camera so her cleavage is showing. “Let me strip tease you ;)” is the title of her video. 

CLICK HERE TO WATCH.

She doesn’t need to tell Joel twice. Joel clicks the link and watches a little popup on his screen indicate that a video is downloading. Once downloaded, he opens the file and begins to watch the video. The woman featured is cute, he thinks. She’s a curvy redhead and she’s teasing, smiling - he likes that. Those Victoria's Secret models don’t smile like this. She lifts her lacy pink robe and shows her ass where there’s a cute little heart-shaped peekaboo cutout in her panties. Joel likes that too. Joel’s been absentmindedly stroking himself and he sighs in contentment. She’s about to open her robe, show him her breasts and–

Windows System Alert

Error Code: 0x80070070

Your computer has encountered a critical issue due to a potentially harmful program. This issue has affected system files and may cause instability or loss of data.

Please take the following actions immediately:

Save all work in progress.

Disconnect from the internet.

Run a full system scan with your security software.

For further assistance, contact technical support.

“Well, that ain’t right,” Joel mumbles. Joel clicks on the little red X in the top right corner to make it disappear, but the popup is right back where it was, blocking that cute redhead from giving Joel a virtual show. He tries closing the message again, it pops right back up. Growing slightly irritated, Joel closes the media player altogether and reopens the downloaded strip tease video. It won’t open. “The fuck?” He tries opening an old untitled document from months ago, and yet again he’s met with the same error message. The popup is arriving in multiples now, blocking his screen. It’s like whack-a-mole, the way he’s closing one and two more pop up in its place.

Joel’s out of his depth here, so he decides to consult an expert. He lives right across the street from a total computer whiz, so he’ll ask her for help. He tucks himself back into his jeans with a soft groan, zips and buttons his jeans before making his way to her house. 

-

You’re vacuuming your floor when you think you hear the faint sound of knocking, so you turn around to see a figure standing on your porch through your window. It’s Joel. Devastatingly handsome, grumpy, single dad. 

You and Joel got off to a rocky start when you moved into the neighborhood a couple years back. He used to hound you about letting your grass grow too long, and you’d argue back by telling him that it’s good for the environment. Growing tired of your protesting, Joel decided to start mowing your lawn for you, without your consent. Not that you really minded, he always wears his grass-stained white and navy New Balance sneakers, his few-inches-too-short denim cutoffs and an old white tank top, stained with grease and his own sweat. It clings to his body, outlining his soft belly. His slightly graying but dark, damp curls cling to his perspiring forehead as his thick thighs clench with every step he takes, pushing that heavy lawnmower up and down your front yard. You compensate him with glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade, offer him a cool wash rag that he wipes his forehead with, the sweat and water dripping down his temple, over the stubble on his jaw. Tensions softened then, and Joel’s been a nice neighbor to have ever since. He, his brother and daughter are good people. 

You tap the button on the bottom of your vacuum cleaner with your toe, shutting it off before opening the door for Joel. He looks a little disheveled - he’s breathing heavily, pupils blown wide. “You busy right now?”

“For you? You know I’m always too busy,” you smirk, tapping your foot against his shoe. 

“Yeah, whatever. Listen, I’m findin’ myself in need of your computer expertise. Would you be able to help me, darlin’?”

It’s the way Joel calls you darlin’, how he flashes those sparkling, chocolate eyes at you, bats his long lashes and smiles at you in such a way that you’re sure he’s deliberately trying to send you to an early grave. You’re wrapped around Joel’s finger but nevertheless, you work your angle. “My time is precious, Joel. How will you make it worth my while?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “Oh, give me a break. I’ll mow your lawn. Does that work for you, princess?” 

“You already mow my lawn.” 

“Yeah, and I’ll keep mowin’ it. How’s that?” 

“Cheap,” you quip. But you still smile and close the door behind you, and Joel blushes as you unknowingly take the hand Joel was just pleasuring himself with in yours, swinging your arms between you playfully as you cross the street to his house together. Your skin tickles when Joel places a hand on your lower back, guiding you to his computer setup before pulling out the chair for you. You log into his computer using his own username and password, something you know by heart. Joel has forgotten his password so many times, he used to call you - at a minimum - twice a week to ask you what it was. The only solution to that issue was for you to write it down on a post-it note and stick it next to the monitor for him. He absolutely hates that you’ve made him put dollar signs and exclamation marks in his password. “Seems unnecessary,” is what he would say, annoyance lacing his tone. 

You retorted with, “Well if you can’t even get into your own computer, how could anyone else?” and Joel shrugged and nodded.

Joel pours both himself and you a glass of ice water, then sits down at the dining room table behind you. “So it’s uhh…” he starts, interrupting himself to sip his water. “Got this error message thing when you click on a file.”

Clicking a file, you see the error popup Joel’s referring to. “I see,” you mumble, clicking on a few others. Joel watches your brows furrow in concentration, a frown painting your lips. 

Oh, shit. Joel didn’t even think to delete that file. “W-what is it? Why’re you makin’ that face?”

“I’m diagnosing.”

Right. Of course you are. You haven’t seen anything you’re not supposed to see, because it’s not like the files would magically start opening for your eyes only. Right? “What’s the verdict, doc?” Joel jokes, hoping you don’t hear the way his voice wobbles slightly with anxiety. 

You suck in a breath through your teeth, “Not good,” you reply. “All of your files are corrupted, I thin–”

Joel interrupts, “What’s that, what’s corrupted? Is that bad?”

“Your turn,” you interrupt back, cocking an eyebrow at his impoliteness. It’s very unlike him.

“M’sorry, hon. Go ‘head, sorry.”

 Joel needs to get it together. He’s fidgety and high-strung. He needs to calm down. It’s fine. It will be fine. You’re gonna work your magic and you’re not gonna see anything you’re not supposed to see. When you’re done, you’re gonna go home and Joel will go right back to his private time as previously scheduled - that’s probably what his biggest problem is, he’s blue-balled himself and he’s all wound-up. Problem will be fixed, easy peasy.

 “When did you say this problem started again?”

“Uh, just a little bit ago,” Joel answers, walking over to the sink and getting himself a glass of water. “Thirsty?”

“No, thanks. What websites do you visit?”

Joel watches you browse his files and mess with the system preferences on his computer. “The weather mostly, or Amazon.. Orderin’ books for Sarah.” Which is a total lie, but he justifies this in his head by telling himself that you don’t need to know what website he visits the most. It’ll embarrass you both. And actually, Sarah prefers to go to the library. She even went today.

“Anything else?”

Joel lies again, “Check the news from time to time, check my team’s scores.” 

You hum in response and continue typing. Joel wishes he could type like that, watching your fingers effortlessly fly across the keyboard. He likes the sound it makes, the quiet clicking and the tapping of your manicured fingernails. “What about emails, you avoiding those scams I told you about?” 

“Yes.”

“Clicking on chainmail?” 

“I am not.”

“Not anymore,” you mumble under your breath. Joel rolls his eyes. You’ll never let it go, will you?

-

Chainmail is how you became Joel’s IT girl. For a couple of months, you’d received various emails from him that were just copy-paste chainmail messages. You know, the ones that say things like ‘Click here to verify your account information. Send to 10 friends and family members to verify their accounts as well.’ You’d just delete, delete, delete, and reply back asking him to stop emailing you these things. But Joel never stopped, day after day he’d send you chainmail. After receiving what felt like the eightieth spam email from jmiller@aol.com, you decided to confront him. 

Joel awoke from an accidental afternoon nap to rather incessant knocking coming from his front door. He opened it only to find you on his porch, where you then proceeded to invite yourself inside. “What happened to hello?” he asked, his voice all sexy and raspy and his eyes tired, lines indenting his face from laying on the couch. He yawned, running his fingers through his curls to try and tame the bed head. You wondered if he always looked this handsome when he woke up.

“Sorry, hi,” you corrected. “Need to borrow your computer. Please.”

Yawning again, Joel sleepily gestured to his computer in the kitchen. “Knock yourself out. Damn thing ain’t actin’ right, though.”

You powered the machine on logged in using the post-it taped to his wall, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. Upon logging in and connecting to the internet, you noticed all sorts of glitches. Not even your computer ran consistently smoothly, but Joel’s was a wreck. Popups and error messages of all different kinds littered the screen, blocking the cute picture of himself and Sarah he had set as the background. “Wow, I couldn’t tell,” you teased. “You have more errors than you do applications on this thing, Joel.” Joel only shrugged in response. “Come sit by me,” you said.

Joel pulled up a seat next to you. “I wanna show you something. Can I open your email?”

“Go right ahead, hon.”

You opened Joel’s email and found his ‘sent’ box, where the last sent email was addressed to you. You clicked it and it opened to his last sent piece of chainmail. “I’ve asked you to stop sending me these emails,” you told him. 

Joel looked crushed almost, a look of puzzlement and what might’ve been hurt momentarily painting his features. “You have?”

“I have.”

The chainmail on the screen was a common one he’d send you, the one asking you to give up your information to protect yourself. “I was only tryin’ to be neighborly. I thought you’d like ‘em, y’know - want you to keep yourself safe.”

It was endearing, the way he explained himself. How he wanted you to stay safe. Your frustration dissipated, only to be renewed as you looked in his spam folder to find all of your replies to him in there instead of his main inbox. “Joel, why am I in your spam folder?” you asked, sighing. Joel simply shrugged and you didn’t even have words. By the look on his face, he probably didn’t even realize he had a spam folder, much less knew what one was. But you had greater concerns. “What are those emails supposed to keep me safe from?”

 “Well, from…” Joel’s mouth hung open as he thought about it, looked up and to the side as he began to realize he didn’t have an answer. “Uhh–”

“You don’t know, do you?” Joel shook his head. “Exactly. It’s called phishing, these emails you’ve been sending me aren’t real. They’re trying to get peoples’ personal information, like, look–” you pointed to the screen, showing Joel an example, “See? Here, it’s asking for your bank information.”

“And I wasn’t ‘sposed to give them that?”

You tilted your head in disappointment, “Joel.” 

Joel groaned and leaned back in his chair, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Fuckin’ idiot.”

You were about to tell him to call his bank, but he was already on it. He pulled his Nokia phone from his belt clip and called his bank to explain the situation. As you went through his inbox and deleted each and every one of the hinky-looking emails, you listened to Joel on the phone. 

“Didn’t realize there were these uh…email scams…Yeah, that charge was me. And that too…

 …Will you call me f’ya see anything suspicious? Okay.

 …Okay. Thank you, ma’am. Thank you. You too.”

From what you heard of the phone call, it seemed that he was safe. You guessed that Joel’s technological ineptitude is probably what had saved him, that he likely mistyped or misunderstood what the scam was attempting to do. You continued to delete scams and other malware-adjacent things from his computer as Joel hung up the phone call and sat back down with you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, s’all good.”

Joel looked shaken, though. You touched his hand sympathetically and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna learn some internet safety today.”

“Figured. I need it.” 

“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. You went through his email, pointing out all the different scams. You told him not to click on links that look like this and that. This is a scam, this is too. You told him that anything attempting to sell fireworks, guns, or anything else at the low, low price of x amount isn’t real. And no, these emails here do not mean that you won a new TV or the lottery or a cruise. Anything that seems too good to be true definitely is. “...Actually,” you began, “All of these are from Tommy. New rule, don’t click on anything from Tommy.”

“Noted,” Joel replied. “I didn’t know any ‘a this.”

“Most people don’t. It’s new, yet. But you know now, so it’s okay.”

Joel breathed a sigh of relief, but he still looked overwhelmed. This time he took your hand and squeezed it. After a moment, he asked you where you learned all of this from. You explained you picked a lot of it up in school, just learning things here and there. Joel let you talk about it all and seemed genuinely interested and impressed.  

“I went through and fixed all that was giving you trouble, by the way. Your computer should be running smoother,” you said. “And I changed your password.  ‘abcde’ is not a good password, Joel.” 

From that day forward, you became Joel's official computer girl. He’d call you and have you help him when he couldn’t get his computer connected to the printer, when he screwed with the settings and the computer didn’t look or act the way he was used to. Even the most basic things, like whenever he had a new picture of himself and Sarah he wanted to change the background to. Not that you minded, you’d jump at any opportunity to poke fun at your handsome neighbor’s lack of computer knowledge.

-

“Did you click on any links from Tommy?”

Joel goes quiet at that, remembering your very specific rule to not engage with him over email. He looks down at his hands as he twiddles his thumbs together. “I might’ve…one or two, maybe”

“What kind of links?”

“There– Fuck, I don’t know. You know, just…websites. They take me to websites. But I don’t give ‘em my information,” he insists. 

“What’s on these websites?”

Joel thinks fast. “Truckparts,” he answers too quickly, and the two words come out as one. “Just truck parts,” he says again, slower.

“Well, you must’ve been looking at some sketchy truck parts. You’ve got a virus.” 

“Okay,” he says. “Figured as much. But you’ve fixed those before for me, haven’t you?”

“I have, but this one means business,” you reply, shaking your head. You start to type a bit, click the mouse as you go through and attempt to delete corrupted files, but it’s not working the way it should. You open Netscape and check the browsing history to see if that can clue you in as to what website could have done this to Joel’s computer. “You said it just started?”

“Just started, yeah,” Joel affirms.

Which…tracks. 

Today, Saturday, June 25, 2003

5:06 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/lingerie

4:54 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/doggy-style

4:50 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/blowjobs

4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/small-boobs

4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/big-boobs

4:45 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/home

His search history is nothing but porn, which you’re 99% sure is exactly what caused the virus. The time stamps all show that the site was visited within the last hour, and Joel says it just started, so… 

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Well,” you say, hesitating before answering fully. “I am looking at your search history.”

Joel stares at the monitor like a deer in the headlights. “There’s - my uh…” he swallows thickly, “They keep records of that?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I told you - just….lookin’ at parts,” Joel’s hand wobbles slightly as he sips on his water.

“Yeah, lady parts.”

Joel sputters on his drink, choking and coughing as he slams the glass down and water spills everywhere. He uses the bottom of his t-shirt to clean his mess as he begins to turn red, feeling his chest and neck and cheeks begin to warm. He can’t even look at you, but he hears your giggles and he can picture your smug grin and he wishes so badly he was dead right now. You’ve seen it all, you know everything. You know it and so does he. He’s gaining the courage to look at you and oh god - you’re scrolling through the dirty website. Giggling, you’re looking at everything he looked at, fucking everything. You’re seeing the same dicks he saw, the same pussies, seeing the purple links that indicate exactly what he’s already clicked on. “Yeah, laugh it up,” he says angrily, defensively. “Ain’t that funny.”

Joel’s world is ending, but it’s really not as bad as he thinks it is. The porn is tamer than what’s often found on the internet, much tamer than the shit you watch. You continue to explore the site as you listen to Joel tell on himself behind you.

“It’s just somethin’ to pass the time,” he says. “It’s natural, alright? And I know you do it too.” He’s deflecting. Even still, he’s not wrong, you certainly do take part. 

You just let him keep talking, relishing in having the upper hand in this situation. “You’re blushing,” you tell him when he quiets down, just to get him started and riled up again as you browse the site. You notice a lot of videos are duplicates, prompting users to download the same thumbnail uploaded by different usernames. Whatever Joel clicked on was probably not uploaded by a real person, though. He clocked on a gibberish username made up of random letters and numbers, unlike some other videos uploaded under actual names. Like Joel’s new found friend ‘cherry_girl_xo’, whose username link is purple. You smirk at that, turning around to look at Joel who definitely recognizes her. He’s bright red everywhere.  

You’re sure this website is the culprit, but you check the rest of his search history to see if any other clue lies in there, but see nothing of import. All you notice are various links to victoriassecret.com, over and over and over again. Based on that and his last searched term on that shady porn site, you can safely assume he’s got a thing for lingerie. Which - funnily enough, you’re wearing right now. Not the kind of lingerie Joel’s been beating off to, but similar. You’re wearing your laciest undergarments, a lavender colored bra with a matching thong. They’re your laundry day underwear, you know the kind - five years old and been sitting at the bottom of your underwear drawer untouched for four of those years, not very comfortable and only to be worn when you’ve just gotten off your period and all of your cotton bikinis and boyshorts are in the wash. That kind. 

After toying with Joel’s computer for a while longer while he twists uncomfortably in agonizing humiliation, you decide there’s not much else that can be done. “I think we have to wipe it all, Joel,” you tell him. “Delete everything and start fresh.”

Joel nods quietly. “Will I still be able to play pinball after?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure you can play pinball,” you chuckle.

“Wipe it, then.”

And so you start the process, which will take a long while. The screen loads and loads as you and Joel wait quietly. You look at Joel, who’s got an elbow on the table as he rests his forehead in his palm. “What?” he snaps, noticing you staring at him. You can’t fight the giggles from erupting. “Would you quit fuckin’ gigglin’ like that? You know that a man’s got needs and I ain’t hurtin’ anyone–” You contort your lips into a forced frown, pressing them into a thin line and then covering your mouth to keep your laughter at bay, but you’re struggling. Joel can see the amusement still sparkling in your eyes and says your name in a warning tone. 

“I’m sorry,” you smile, raising your hands in surrender. “I won’t laugh. I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Better be,” he grumbles. He drinks the last of his water quietly as you think about something, something that’s been heavy on your mind for the last couple of minutes. What if Joel knew what you were wearing beneath your clothes? You’ve made this afternoon absolute hell for him and you know that - but you don’t care. You’ve had too much fun getting under his skin to stop now. 

The real dirty work begins when you unzip your sweatshirt and hang it over the back of your chair. When Joel looks at you, you bring your hand to your shoulder and gently pull up on your bra strap, letting it snap your shoulder.

Joel shifts in his seat and clears his throat, “You warm or somethin’?”

“Yeah, it’s a little hot in here.”

“Mm,” Joel spins his now empty glass between his thumb and pointer finger. When he looks back at you, he flips the glass. You’ve pulled the top of your tank top down, your lacy bra and cleavage on full display. He tries to make two moves at once, catch the rolling glass and cover his crotch because he’s just gone erect.  “Cute. I would appreciate it if you’d knock that off now, I get the picture. S’real funny,” he mutters as he scrambles.

“What picture?” you ask innocently. 

“Oh, don’t you start. You know exactly what damn picture,” Joel snaps. “You figured it out. Got a certain fondness for ladies in lace. You feel clever or somethin’?” 

You really can’t bite back your smile this time, “Mhm.”

“You shouldn’t. You’re exploitin’ my vulnerabilities, takin’ cheap shots and–” Joel’s jaw drops as he watches you unbutton your jean shorts and show off your panties, the little bow at the center of them nicely on display. His look of shock quickly turns into a glare as you take off your tank top. “Like that, that’s playin’ dirty. Put your shirt back on and zip yourself back up. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. You really don’t. This is just as surprising to you as it is to Joel, but the look on his face tells you that you’re definitely having way more fun than he is. 

“God, you’re killin’ me,” he groans. The way you’re so cavalier about this all has Joel both flummoxed and irate. 

But you’re not this bold usually, not really. Joel must not have noticed the way your hands have been trembling, must not have heard your slightly shaky breaths. He’s been avoiding eye contact too much to notice you’ve been doing the same. “Why?”

“Why? Cause I’m only a man and you’re gettin’ me all worked up. You’re takin’ advantage of me and my biology,” Joel gestures angrily to his crotch. He’s not even bothering to hide it anymore - you’ve seen it all and know what you’ve done to him. “You proud?”

“You’re–”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ hard - been hard. Didn’t get to take care of myself ‘cause of the fuckin’ virus and here you are teasin’ and temptin’ me and…Hon, what’re you -” Joel’s angered expression turns to momentary confusion when you stand up, then turns to contentment when you straddle his lap. You press your core into his thick bulge, holding onto his shoulders for stability. “What are you doin’?” he sighs, his head falling backward.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For teasing.”

“Yeah, so you say, princess.”

You grind yourself on his lap and when Joel brings his head forward to search for your eyes, he notices how your eyes flicker away from his. Like maybe you’re not as in control of this situation as you appear to be. 

“I am.”

“Mm,” Joel hums. You’re reaching between your bodies and fumbling with the button on his jeans. He sucks in his soft belly to unbutton them for you, wraps his strong hand around your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth. “Gimme this,” he mumbles, spitting into your hand before he shoves it under the waistband of his boxers. A pang of arousal floods your gut at the action.

You palm his warm, heavy cock, feeling him thicken in your hand, though he’s already so hard. You can feel his rigid member throb and ache as you work his shaft up and down, up and down, your knuckles brushing against his thatch of coarse curls and his tummy. It’s evident how much he’s needed this, what with the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths, soft groans escaping his lips as he does so. 

Joel enjoys himself as you work him. “Fuck,” he whispers. You look down between your bodies to admire his member, the blushed, leaking tip and the thick and prominent veins. And he’s so smooth, his skin almost silky. You watch his blissed out face, contemplate kissing those pink, pouting lips of his. You’re gonna do it, bringing your face close to his. Brushing your lips ever so softly over his, Joel moves to kiss you fully when you pull back. His computer makes that signature Windows startup sound,

“I have to take care of that,” you murmur. You dismount Joel and he picks up where you leave off, stroking his own cock just like you were. He watches your nearly naked body with hooded eyes that flutter shut as you work, typing quietly on his keyboard. You set his username and password the same, make sure that things open as they should. For Joel’s own protection, you block tommyboy69er@aol.com. 

“Finished?” Joel asks as you stand up from your seat in front of his computer. 

“Mhm,” you reply, gripping his shoulder with your hand as you bend over halfway to pick up your discarded top and kiss his cheek. “Have fun with your Victoria’s Secret girls, Joel.”

Your work here is done. You’ve fixed Joel’s computer and by the look on his face, broken his heart. “What are you doing?”

You smile, too proud of yourself as you begin to walk away. Before you can walk further, Joel stands up and reaches across the table, grabbing you by the forearm and forcing you onto your back. “You ain’t gettin’ away from me that easy, princess,” he says. “I still got somethin’ that needs fixed.” Joel displays strength but is as gentle as can be, though the cold, hard wood against your spine and your shoulder blades hurt you for a moment. Your eyes widen in shock, but it’s a welcome pain. “Knew you weren’t fuckin’ sorry,” Joel spits. Your head dangles off the edge of the table and Joel uses a hand to open your mouth, forcing two of his thick fingers inside. Instinctually, you curl your tongue around the digits, sucking and licking. You can taste his cock on his fingers from when he was pleasuring himself just moments ago.

Joel pumps himself in his hand for a second before guiding his thick head to your lips, pushing past them in one quick thrust, right to the back of your throat so you gag. He likes that noise. “I give you an inch,” he grunts, “And you take a mile.” You slide your tongue over those thick veins of his you’d previously traced with your fingertips. Joel draws out of your mouth slowly, allowing you to lick his weeping slit before pushing himself back in. “It would’ve been courteous of you to keep my dirty secret to yourself, but you couldn’t even do that. Went an’ humiliated me instead, then you got the nerve to try ‘n leave me high and dry? I don’t think I deserve that.”

  Joel wants to fuck your mouth until your lips are raw and swollen, show you just what he thinks of your stunt. But he demonstrates self control, allows you to take him at your own pace and yet, you continue to tease. It’s like it’s innate or something, the way you continue to only give little by little, savoring the saltiness of his precome. He gives you one last warning, “You really should learn when to quit while you’re ahead, hon.”

You persist anyway. Wrong move. Joel fucks himself into your mouth with no regard for your comfort, taking what he needs from you. It’s sloppy and messy, his heavy balls bouncing off the tip of your nose. You wish you could see him, see the way he’d glare at you. He’s flipped like a switch, previously holding himself back from having his way with you like he wanted to. He’s taking it now. All the softness in him is gone, and you fucking love it. You reach forward, sliding your hand down your stomach, dipping it beneath your panties. You spread your legs wide and your fingers hover over your pussy, feeling that wet heat radiating from your core. Just as you let your fingers drop to touch your aching clit, you feel Joel lunge forward and pull your hand away. “Nuh-uh, not where I eat. Where are your manners, princess?” 

He fucks your mouth relentlessly, holding the sides of your head in his big hands. He watches the way your lace-covered tits bounce with his every thrust. He pushes himself deeper and deeper, ignoring your sputtering and choking on his cock. Your eyes prick with tears as your jaw begins to ache, really fucking ache. Joel doesn’t stop himself, and it’s not like he would if he knew you were crying like this. He fills the air with his own grunting and groaning, relishing in the warmth of your wet, soft mouth.

And then he’s done. No slowing to a standstill, just abruptly pulls out. You hear his heavy footsteps as he rounds the kitchen table, hooks his fingertips beneath the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down, pulls your hips close to his so your face is no longer dangling off the edge. He pulls your panties to the side, drags his thumb up and down your slick folds and it’s like the quiet before the storm. 

He notches himself in your entrance and pushes himself in, inch by inch by inch. Slowly, deliberately, so that you feel all of the stretching and aching he wants you to. “Joel,” you cry. “Fuck, Joel, please, I can’t–”

“You’ll get used to it,” he purrs. He leans over you as he fucks you slowly, holding your neck with his thumb on your jawbone while he kisses you to quiet you down, licking into your mouth and swirling his tongue around with yours. You whimper softly into his mouth with his every thrust, the pain not yet completely dissipated, but pleasurable in its own way. “Spread your legs. Wider.”

You open yourself up for him, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. You accept it all as he wraps your legs around his waist, your heels bouncing on his ass. The head of his cock kisses that sweet spot inside of you, pleasure beginning to take over your senses and you moan. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Feels good, don’t it? Maybe this whole virus fiasco was a blessing in disguise, darlin’,” Joel says, “Feels good f’me too.”

You cry out loudly when he puts your legs up on his shoulders, the new angle has him inside you even deeper than before. He sits you up a bit, putting your arms behind your back and pressing your palms down flat on the table with his own. 

He draws out of you and fills you up again, over and over and over. “Fuck, look at us,” he kisses your ankle a couple of times, “Look,” Joel looks down where your bodies meet and you join him, watching how his cock slides in and out of you, all wet and coated in your slick. Panties still pulled to the side, your skin is irritated where the fabric tugs and scratches at your skin. He maintains a quick rhythm, rolling his hips into yours. 

“Make me come, Joel, I want to come.”

“Oh, I’ve got no doubt you do. But maybe I’ll leave you high and dry like you were gonna do to me, see how you like it. What a waste that’d be, huh?” You whine at the threat and Joel smiles deviously, he likes having you at his mercy like this. All pathetic and begging for him to let you come undone. “You’re nothin’ but talk, aren’t you?”

“Make me come, please.”

“You’ll have to convince me,” he says. “You heard me, convince me. Better make it quick.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, you can’t even process what Joel said and begin to make your case. You feel him twitching, his hips stuttering and before you know it, he’s spilling into you. He paints your insides with his hot spend, milking himself entirely in your cunt and your disappointment is incalculable. Tears of frustration well up and threaten to spill down your cheeks. It was all fun and games before, but you suddenly feel so used and betrayed. You can’t say he didn’t warn you. 

“Ohh, I know,” he coos, wiping your eyes. “Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t you?”

You nod, sniffling quietly. 

“You can still convince me. I’m all ears, ya know.”

“How?”

“Well,” Joel says. He’s beginning to soften inside of you, and so he pulls out with a soft ‘fuck’, his spend spilling out of you and onto his table. “Can start with an ‘I’m sorry, Joel’. And I want a real one this time.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

“S’a good start. Wanna give me some more? Tell me why?”

“F-for teasing you and stuff.”

“For teasing me and stuff,” he repeats your words slowly. Joel pulls off his t-shirt and folds it tightly, places it at the end of the table and lowers your head onto it. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Joel kneels before you and wraps his arms around your thighs. He presses a kiss over your cloth-covered core, feeling the dampness of your arousal and his spend on his lips. He spreads your legs wide, exposing your wet cunt for him, lips all swollen and ribbons of his spend clinging to your folds. He admires the thick curls framing your pussy, “I gotcha,” he whispers. “C’mere.”

You gasp when Joel finally, finally begins to explore you, his tongue parting open your folds. He pulls back and pushes one, then two fingers inside you, humming in satisfaction at the way you suck him in, so eager and needy for his touch. He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and jerk as you try to keep yourself still. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan as he laps at your cunt, feeling that warm, sticky feeling flow through your hips. His mouth and fingers work together to bring you closer to your edge, humming as he rhythmically strokes that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue is so hot, wet, and firm as he drags it up and down your sex, circling your clit with the muscle. “Mmm, fuck. Oh, god.”

Joel doesn’t know what’s more satisfying, the sweet taste of this most private place between your thighs or the sounds of your pleasure as he eats you. He devours you voraciously, sucking one fold and nipping at the other as he curls his fingers, never faltering in their movements. With his free hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he reaches around and pulls the hood of your clit back to suck and lick the sensitive bud. His dark, slightly graying and wiry stubble drags across the skin of your inner thighs, scratching you gently. It’s building up quickly, that familiar feeling deep in your spine.

“I’m–” a moan rips through your chest and interrupts you, “Fuck, I’m–”

“I know, hon,” he whispers, escalating his efforts. He sucks, licks, and curls his fingers harder, feeling the slow build of you beginning to come apart for him. You come on his lips and spill into his hand as Joel works you through your orgasm. You’re a gushing, moaning mess, your hands fly to his scalp and you tug on his soft curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. And then another, slower. Another yet, even slower. 

You expect him to pull away from your center with a satisfied grin, his mustache and beard dampened by your slick. But he stays put, licking more long stripes up and down your pussy. Your thighs twitch and flutter uncontrollably and Joel holds you apart for him as he continues to tease, circling the tip of his perfect, aquiline nose around your clit. 

“Too much, it’s too much,” you cry. 

“Mhm. But you got one more in you, I know you do.”

“Joel–” 

You think you might break. You’re not sure where you feel Joel’s tongue, you just feel him fucking everywhere. You don’t know where your orgasm begins and ends, just that by the time Joel decides you’re done, you’re in sweet agony and he luxuriates in the taste of your second release. He’s made such a pretty mess of you. He presses one last kiss to your core, “Yeah, that was a good one, wasn’t it?”

Joel pulls away from your center, wiping his lips on your thighs. His cheeks are flushed and his dark eyes sparkle. He lets you catch your breath as he fills a glass of water for you and brings it to your lips helping you to drink as your hands are still trembling from it all. 

When the moment passes, you gather your clothes. You pull on your tank top and put your shorts back on. “Oh,” you say. 

“Hm?”

“I blocked Tommy’s email, just so you know. He’s trouble.”

Joel chuckles. “You, my darlin’, are trouble. But that’s probably for the best, thank you for fixin’ my computer again.” 

“It’s no problem,” you reply. 

“Oh–” Joel grabs something from his stack of mail on his countertop and hands it to you. It’s some Victoria’s Secret coupons.“This was addressed to you. Ended up in my mail. Fuckin’ mail guy.”

You giggle quietly, what a curmudgeon he is. “Actually, I think you need it more than I do. You can beat off to your angels in analog,” you tease.

Joel rolls his eyes. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he says, taking the coupons back from you. “And actually, think I will hang on to this. Maybe I’ll even buy you somethin’ pretty an’ we can do this again soon.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, send me an ask, just tell me something nice <3 your words keep me motivated to write.

[safetypinxtales]

400 years | Azriel

summary: drinking with your best friend takes a turn when you happen upon some of Feyre's art supplies.

words: 3.2k

warnings: steamy 18+ mdni, nudity, sex is insinuated but not described, kissing, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly), reader and azriel are drunk, making out, big dick azriel, fluff, no use of y/n, neutrally described reader/no reader description

notes: happy valentines day, here's some azriel for youuu🤍 I got the inspiration for this whilst reading this fic by @solbaby7 bc who wouldn't want to draw az like one of your French girls?? Frankly there is nothing I would like to do more. Their fic is amazing and you guys should totally check it out if you haven't already! Anyways, I'm sorry for the "shut the door" type ending, but I cannot write smut to save my life so this will have to do. Hope you enjoy!🤍

masterlist

Thud.

The sound of Azriel accidentally smacking his head on the wall as he plopped down on the sofa across from you echoed within the walls of the cabin, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you. Azriel’s own shaking shoulders and scrunched up nose let you know that he couldn’t help it either. 

But that was to be expected wasn’t it? The past hour had been filled with nothing but bubbling laughter from the both of you, giggles from Az, and some very graceful snorts… also definitely from Azriel. 

The reason why he had brought you to Rhys’ cabin in the mountains was long forgotten after the two nearly empty bottles of alcohol on the table in front of you. The heartache of getting stood up on your date earlier that evening buried under a considerable amount of drinks. 

“As long as the glass is never empty in between refills, they don’t count.”

Azriel’s words from earlier came back to you, only fuelling your cramp inducing giggles. 

That had always been your motto in times like these. A consistency that had lasted centuries. 

“I can’t breathe,” you wheezed out in between fits of hysteria, your arms coming up to wrap around yourself. But your laughter didn’t die down, and neither did Azriel’s. Your uttered words only seemed to fire him on as he tipped over on his side, hand landing a slap on the armrest.

Seeing him like this, so free and relaxed, was rare. You could probably count each separate occasion on your hands. He only really let go like this when you needed it. When the urge to drink your walls down and flush the pain away seemed like the only remedy to whatever situation you were dealing with.

It was a very rare occurrence indeed. But one of your favourites. 

Azriel’s carefree giggles, that luminous light in his eyes; you swore it could make budding flowers bloom.

You sat up straight, and the situation stopped feeling so funny as you laid eyes on Azriel’s still laughing frame. The uncontrolled giggles, and the way his wings shook in time with his chest. It was enchanting, the sight of your best friend being so relaxed, so happy. 

The shadows that were usually crowding his frame were nowhere to be seen – with the exception of the lone swirl of darkness slowly snaking its way around your wrist, coming down to entwine with your fingers every now and again.

It took a couple more minutes until Azriel’s laughter had finally seized. You both sat on separate sofas, smiles stretched wide and eyes glazed over from the alcohol you had ingested, and as your breathing started to return to normal a thought struck.

“What?” Azirel asked as he leaned forward on his elbows, a curious glint in his eyes. 

“What?” You prodded back, more confused than curious, blinking a few times to try and rid the alcohol-induced veil that surrounded you. What was he on about? 

“Well,” he waved one floppy hand in your direction, “you just perked up, it was like you grew ten inches,” he exclaimed, before continuing in a slightly lowered, bemused voice, ”and that means you just had one of your ideas.”

The corners of your mouth quirked upwards as you slowly nodded your head. He was right – you had come up with an idea.

“Well, I was just thinking about how Feyre mentioned after the last time she was here,” you stood up from your seat, swaying slightly but quickly finding your balance, doing your very best to not bump into the table separating you. “Something about forgotten art supplies.”

Like a predator sighting a prey, Azriel’s interest piqued in a moment. His razor sharp focus was on your every step as you walked towards the supply closet at the other side of the room. 

The closet was unusually dusty, a strange thing for being Rhysand’s property. He was usually very meticulous when it came to things always being spotless and presentable. But you supposed that a small, rarely used supply closet in the family cabin wasn’t a priority of his. Keeping it clean was not a good enough use of his magic. 

Luckily for you, that just made your quest easier. You just had to look for whatever was covered in the least amount of dust bunnies.

“Aha!” You whipped around to face your friend, triumphantly displaying the sketch pad and charcoals in your hands. 

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up at your revelation, grin still present on his beautiful face.

“That’s your big idea? Drawing?”

“You should know I used to be quite the whiz with the charcoals when I was younger,” you rebutted and Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. 

“I have seen your penmanship, so I will believe this talent of yours when I see it,” he muttered and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer audacity in his words. Your penmanship was not that bad.

Taking a few steps back in his direction with a huff, you flipped through the sketch pad in search of an unused sheet of parchment. You were gonna show him, alright…

You couldn’t help but admire Feyre’s old sketches as you went through the pages. Some you recognised as early-version sketches of paintings you had seen around the river house, and some were–

“Oh!” Your fingers froze as your eyes landed on what seemed to be an anatomical study. A very detailed, very beautiful, anatomical study of – oh my Gods. You felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Is that Rhysand?!”

At the screech in your voice and the mention of his brother’s name, Azriel shot up off the sofa to get a peek at whatever had managed to pull such a reaction from you. 

The warmth of his body radiated into your side as he peered over your shoulder at the drawing of the very naked high lord. 

You noticed him stiffening out of the corner of your eyes and then, like a tether snapping, laughter started to boom inside the walls of the cabin. With a steadying hand on your shoulder he doubled over in giggles so contagious it didn’t take long before you joined in with his hysterics. 

“No way,” he wheezed, “oh Gods – I can’t wait to tell Cassian!” 

The mere thought of how Cassian would react to such a revelation, the look on his face, had you clutching your stomach. Poor Rhys would never hear the end of it.

And by the cauldron, if you don’t wake up with rippling abs tomorrow from the amount of laughter this night had brought….

“You can’t blame her though,” you mused once you managed to get your giggles under control, “I mean, nice job Feyre.” A low whistle left you as you peered down at your clearly blessed high lord.

The laughter quieted down beside you and you raised your gaze to look at Azriel, only to be met with an incredulous look. 

“What, I’m just calling it as I see it!” You exclaimed and raised your hands in defence, charcoals and disrobed Rhysand still in your grasp.

His eyes flicked down to the sketch pad, before slowly coming back up to meet yours, that look never leaving his face.

“Oh, please.” 

The words fell from his lips with such cool confidence your smile faltered momentarily, eyebrows knotting together.

“You can’t be serious?” He asked, and when you stayed quiet he continued, “that’s nothing.”

Nothing?

From where you were standing, respectfully, it looked like everything.

“What? Like you can do better?” 

Your challenge seemed to light a spark in his eyes and time slowed as he took a step backwards, fingers coming down to grip the hem of his t-shirt.

One swift movement and his shirt was off, muscles rippling under his bronzed skin as he tossed the dark fabric on the floor, his eyes not once straying from yours. 

He kept backing up, step after torturous step, until his legs hit the sofa. The corners of his mouth tugged up in a smirk as he plopped down, arms behind his head, far leg propped up, large wings casually draped over the armrest.

“Draw me then, whiz,” he challenged, using your word from earlier, “let me be your muse.” 

The heat crawling up your neck, scorching the tips of your ears, were not solely from the liquor as you padded over to the opposite sofa. 

No, it was from something very different. Something strikingly sobering, yet oh-so intoxicating. 

You sat down and carefully placed the pad in your lap, flipping through it until you reached a blank page. You moved some hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear, picked up a charcoal and brought it to the parchment – when you felt yourself hesitate. You took your lip between your teeth as you contemplated your next move. The risk. The absurdity. The excitement. 

He was your friend. Your best friend, and yet…

You lifted your gaze to find Azriel’s eyes locked to yours with such focus, such challenge. Like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. 

His eyes flicked down to your hand, if only for a split second, as you gently put down the charcoal. He cocked an eyebrow when his gaze once again found yours. 

“I just,” you took a deep breath, “I just don’t think it’s really fair on Rhys, you know?” The shadow around your wrist flickered, as if sensing what you were about to do. The lines you were about to cross.

You watched as Azriel’s eyebrows drew together, and you fought the twitching of your lips as you continued, “I mean, you are still half clothed.”

With a slight shrug of your shoulders, you watched as your words sank in. How his eyes seemed to darken, the corner of his mouth raised in the smallest of smirks. 

“Is that so?” He mused, and you tried your best to level his stare. To not back down. Not shy away. 

With an incline of your head, you nodded. And watched his hand inch closer to his pants. Down past that dark trail of hair, to the laces tied together at the waistband. Watched as he grabbed a hold of the string… and pulled. 

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t focus on anything other than his hand. How his fingers untied the font of his pants so slowly, so delicately it felt like torture. You were transfixed by his fingers. Loosening the laces, his thumb slipping beneath the waistband…

You snapped your gaze up to his face, to find him still looking at you – studying you. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sound of his pants hitting the floor. With your eyes still locked to his, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. Here you were, in front of your fully naked best friend – about to draw him. 

Let me be your muse.

His words from earlier echoed in your mind as you tore your gaze from his face and dragged it lower, and lower, until…

Your head emptied. Your tongue felt about as dry as the beaches you had visited in Summer last year. Because the sight that beheld you was breath-taking. 

The length between his legs, standing aroused and proud, really did make Rhysand’s portrait look like nothing. 

A part of you had almost hoped that Azriel’s confidence had just been for show. That it was just his competitiveness shining through, a feat to best his brother. 

The reality?

Monstruos would have been a fitting word had the sight not compelled you so. Had it not caused you to burn for him. Crave him. 

Delicious seemed to be a better word to describe your friend. Beautiful. Mouth-watering. A thing of art.

Which is why you picked up your discarded charcoal and put it to the parchment. 

You studied the planes of his body, the hard lines, the soft skin. The muscles that could have been carved by the Mother herself. You avoided looking at his face though, instead focusing on the various scars that marred his skin, telling stories of battles and fights. Of brawls with his brothers. 

You felt him looking at you, however. He hadn’t stopped looking at you. Not since the sketch pad came into play.

It made it annoyingly hard to focus. 

The scratching sound of charcoal on paper stopped. 

“How long have we known each other?” Your voice wavered, mouth dry. You cleared your throat and raised your gaze to finally meet his. 

Azriel tipped his head to the side, contemplating, “about 400 years.”

400 years. And never before had you seen him naked. Not like this. Not splayed out like a feast, waiting to be devoured. Not with his gaze so burning you were afraid it was going to singe your clothes to ashes. 

“Right,” you mumbled, eyes flicking back down to your hands. They were smudged with soot, your thumb and index finger blackened, that lone shadow still curiously snaking around your wrist. 

That is a very long time.

Azriel seemed to notice how the little confidence you had faltered, for he straightened somewhat from his leisurely sprawl. 

“You okay?” There was only soft concern enveloping his words, a drastic change from the tension flooding the space between you just seconds before. 

It was a very long time, indeed. So why didn’t this feel wrong? 

You let out a deep breath, “yes, I think so.” 

Your answer apparently didn’t settle his worries though, because he raised from the sofa and rounded the table between you. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as he stopped in front of where you sat. 

Only when he lowered his hand – fingers coming to rest under your chin, tipping you face up – did you meet his eye. 

The heartbreaking concern written all over his face seized your heart. The soft furrow of his brow. The slight dip at the corners of his pouty lips. The brutal softness swimming in those hazel eyes. 

It took your breath away.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t trust your voice, not with the vulnerable proximity between you. All you managed was a meager nod. A small up and down bob of your head. 

His fingers tugged on your chin, and as if in a trance, you followed the wordless command and rose to your feet. 

“I need you to use your words here, sweetheart,” his voice was soft, but the underlying command was undeniable, “please.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you swallowed and managed to breathe out “I’m okay.” 

That seemed enough to ease Azriel’s concern, a breath of relief fanning across your face. 

“Good,” he murmured, almost as if more to himself.

His eyes left yours, and flicked down. To your mouth, you realised, as his thumb moved from your chin up to graze your bottom lip.

That intensity was back in his gaze, that predatory focus – all directed at you. His thumb pulled at your lip before letting go, and the shudder that overtook your body could have made the earth shake.

There couldn’t be more than a foot of space between you. 

So dangerously close.

He was your friend. 

Right? 

“400 years,” you whispered, eyes flicking down to follow the bob of his throat as he swallowed. “400 years of friendship.” 

You felt light headed. 400 years, and all could be thrown away as easy as breathing. All you had to do was take half a step.

“Three,” Azriel’s voice grumbled above you as your eyes trailed down to inspect the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“Hmm?” Your mumble was absent minded, your thoughts being too preoccupied by the male in front of you. What he would feel like. Taste like. The sounds he would make if you dipped your head and licked up the drops of sweat beading at the center of his chest.

“That’s how long I’ve loved you. Three hundred years.”

You froze. 

The thickness coating Azriel’s voice was not something you were familiar with. Nor were the words he uttered.

Your gaze snapped up to his, scanning his features for any sign that he was, for some reason, making the cruellest joke in all of Pythian’s history. But all you found was open, unguarded truth. 

Azriel loved you?

Azriel loved you. 

The rapid beating of your heart was a stark contrast to just how very safe you felt. How right it seemed to take that half step forward. To cradle his face in your hand, the other coming to rest on that glorious chest – right over his own heart. And as you felt that wild drumming beneath his ribs echo your own, nothing seemed as easy as rising up on the tips of your toes and slotting your mouth against his. 

The kiss was tentative, like the two of you were just dipping your toes in – testing the waters. You moved your lips against his, gently, savouring the feel of his pillowy lips. The feel of his body so close to yours. How the scent of him seemed to envelop you. You savoured how easily he took all of your senses hostage. 

He was everywhere.

The sound of Azriel’s wings rustling behind him, the rapid beating of his heart in his chest, the taste of liquor on his lips – it intoxicated you in a way you didn’t know was possible. 

You stayed like that, gently exploring each other's lips, savouring each other's closeness, until you had no other choice but to break away for air. 

You pulled away only a few inches, rapid breaths fanning your faces. The pounding of your heart didn’t seize, and neither did his. You could feel every rapid beat under the hand still planted on his warm chest. 

“Your heart is beating very fast,” you whispered, voice shaky from your breathlessness. 

He swallowed, “It is.”

“So is mine,” you revealed. 

“Yes, I can hear it.”

Oh. 

“Will you kiss me again?” Your voice was so low, you wouldn’t have known he heard you if not for the strangled sound he let out. 

Or for how he grabbed you by your waist and captured your lips with his. 

This time the kiss was less gentle. This time he pressed your body against his as he devoured you. It was all tongues, and teeth, and needy gasps.

His teeth pulled on your bottom lip and you thanked the Mother he was holding you so tightly, for your knees almost gave out. A throaty groan escaped you as his hand cupped the back of your neck, angling your head upwards and deepening the kiss further.

Your own hands found his hair – and pulled. The deep rumbling in his chest and the way he moaned your name into the kiss was your undoing.

This kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative.

It was claiming.

And so you let him claim you. 

Your clothes were quickly discarded as you laid down on the sofa, Azriel’s body on top of yours. And as you crashed together, entangled limbs and sworn promises, you let those 400 years of friendship, of tension, of longing dictate the start of this new chapter.

A chapter of what would hopefully be 400 years of something more.

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tags: @missus-shadowsinger

[loveemagicpeace]

Observations about moon signs☁️🧚🏽🍓

Aires moon- can be very self-centered, they have no need to be depend on someone. They enjoy their company and also doing activities. Playing sports means a lot to them and they like to have a routine that they can enjoy. You don't like to stay in one place for long. They are positive and emotionally strong. They handle life's things well. In a relationship, they need a partner who will encourage and support them in the things they will do and allow them to have freedom. My opinion is that this moon is most susceptible to emotional freedom and freedom in a relationship.

Taurus moon- like cute things and like to spend time with people who are close to them. They need touch and it is also very important to them. They will quickly show this to the other person as well. They simply cannot be without physical touch. They love hugs, kisses on the cheeks and warm feeling. I would describe them as teddy bears. They also give very warm and nice hugs. Food is important to them (they like to eat good and quality food). They like to spend time in the cinema, at cozy couch, also they really like music. They like luxurious things and jewelry (also worn many times). They like to spoil their partner. They are very loyal and emotionally strong. They persist and won't just go away (their emotions are very strong and stable).

Gemini moon-like people who have a good mindset. Talking to a person is very important to them (there are also people who like communication and will communicate with you late at night). They think a lot about their feelings and analyze the other person's thoughts. They quickly find out how the other person works and in what way. They are people who can also give you very good advice and will know how to enter into a neutral role emotionally. However, they can often be moody and irritable at home and with relatives. You may not need to study something in depth to feel that you know enough about it.

Cancer moon-like people who are emotional. Emotional interaction means a lot to them and they put a lot on the other person's feelings. They have to feel emotionally safe, that they can trust someone. They are very intuitive and will immediately detect a person's vibrations (whether they are good or bad), they also detect spaces and energy in general. They sense that things will happen before they do. They are not so emotionally open and only open up to those they really trust and know that they can expose themselves emotionally (even though they don't like to do it). They are emotionally very strong and can handle a lot of emotions. They like hugs, kisses. They really like to spend the night with someone and this for them also represents some kind of bonding with another person. For them, sleeping with someone in the same bed is a very intimate thing. They like to have their own comfortable space in which to spend their time. It is very important for them to be able to be who they are in a relationship and to express their feelings freely. But they can also be stubborn and impulsive.

Leo moon- can be very dramatic and self-centered. They love spending time with their partner and spending time with them. They also need a lot of emotional attention, they want their partner to notice them and give them their time. They like to do crazy things with a person and thus bond with them in a way. Above all, they like children's things or things they did as children and share it with others.It means a lot to them if you do something with them that includes their hobbies.Emotions are often overwhelmed by the ego (which means that they can feel a lot but don't let themselves express it). Although when they really want something, they will leave their ego behind. I have a feeling that many times they can be lonely inside and they don't show it out loud. They can quickly begin doubt in themselves and whether they are good enough for someone.

Virgo moon-however, this moon can be very critical of itself and others. People with this moon often do not know how to express their emotions, at least not in the way that someone might want. They know how to take care of others and offer them support when they need it, but when they can get close to someone, they can have a problem, and they know how to show it. They are also paranoid and have great concern for the health of others and themselves. Cleanliness means a lot to them and they want to have a tidy and pleasant home. Men with this moon tend to do a lot of cleaning and also do women's chores. They can choose partners based on their routine.

Libra moon-are very social and need socialization. But they are also tied to the fact that they like relationships and can feel lonely when they are not in a relationship. Which means that they can choose a partner who may not suit them so much, but they will be with him because they don't want to be lonely. They like to have friends and hang out with them. Their emotions are rational and neutral. Otherwise, they can be very emotionally attached to their partner and the relationship can mean a lot to them (but they can sometimes have a problem staying in it if all the conditions are not met).

Scorpio moon- can be very secretive, emotionally closed or too intense. Deep feelings and someone with whom they can share all their secrets mean a lot to them. They are emotionally very devoted and sacrifice a lot for their partner, home, and family. They may have a special attachment to children and want to give them as much as possible. They are also an analytical person meaning they will always analyze the emotions of others. They like a home that is away from everyone and is more alone or on the private area. However, they can often feel that their emotions are too much or that people do not understand them and do not feel this depth as they do. They connect best with water moons because only they will understand their emotionally complex nature.

Sagittarius moon-are optimistic, funny and like to tell jokes. There are people who will always want to put you in a good mood and do their best to make you feel good. They connect emotionally with someone through experience, travel, adventure and wisdom. They like to have a philosophy of life and search for meaning. Their emotions show through optimism. Although they act independently, they are actually looking for someone who will make them feel at home. Someone who will fulfill them emotionally. They feel alienated in their own home and many times they move out of their country. They are looking for someone who will bring meaning to their lives (a sense of what to live for and show them the way). They are emotionally impulsive and can also be jealous. Sagittarius often have the feeling that they are alone or that they can be alone and go through something alone, but in reality they just need someone who will give them the feeling that there is a whole world for them. Someone who will make them feel that they are not alone. They hide a lot of their emotions with humor and people don't even notice. This moon does not have such a big ego.

Capricorn moon-are emotionally stable and focused on peace and a stable relationship. Many times their emotions can be well focused. Especially when it comes to learning, work, they have a great focus on it. Usually when they end a relationship or any situation makes them sad, they put their emotions to work and want to distance themselves as much as possible from what they really feel. Their emotions can often be cold, but they are very non-judgmental people, they will always accept the emotions of another person, but they rarely react to it. They always have to process their emotions within themselves before they can share them with others. They trust very few people and tend to be closed off when it comes to expressing emotions unless they feel they can express things.

Aquarius moon- are attached to their friends and friendships mean a lot to them emotionally. They don't like groups so much, they prefer to focus on one person because they quickly feel alienated or like they don't belong in that group. Especially in a family, they can feel aloof, unwanted and invisible. They are much more emotional than people would think. They like to have fun and make fools of themselves. They like people who make them feel like it's okay to be weird and different. They can quickly become emotionally isolated and often feel that way among people. For them, home represents something unique and their own. They are independent and are looking for a person who is similar to them. They may also tend to operate as an outsider or lone wolf, preferring to maintain a detached view that is only possible from the outskirts. They feel very different from the environment in which they grow up. The outsider experience is felt at a very early age.

Pisces moon-these are the people who will always bring you some snacks or be emotionally there for you. Always there to comfort you and help you. They are emotionally sensitive and pick up a lot of energy from others, so they are also quickly exhausted. They have a lot of empathy for others and want to understand and feel the people around them. They are also emotionally shy and change how they feel quickly.They express their feelings most easily through art. They are emotional and quickly take a lot to heart emotionally. They show their love in a very selfless way, but they can also be manipulative if they see that the person does not return the same feelings. They are also incredibly caring, and their loved ones know they can always rely on them for a sympathetic ear, a warm hug, and an encouraging pep talk when they're going through a tough time. They are naturally escapist and they might distract themselves by diving into movies, books, music, fanfiction, etc.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🌊🌶️☁️

[lxmelle]

Gojo was once described by Gege as a “man of resignation”.

It is a facet of enlightenment - in which the concept of “non-attachment” is a big part of (attachment is viewed as the root of suffering).

We can interpret “resignation” in so many ways, as it explains so much about his immense capacity for love / acceptance, but also his tendency to... simply resign himself to an outcome / fate I guess - a form of passivity that can be either considered positive or negative, perhaps depending on outcome.

Going with the flow, neither chasing nor halting anything in particular with his immense might and potential. He swayed things to gently influence an outcome. Followed a designated path trying to rebuild the sorcerer world through being a teacher... which he couldn’t fully commit too either, because he had a role as a special grade who had to keep working.

That’s not to say he didn’t achieve anything - because of course he did. But nothing revolutionary. He said so himself to Geto: he didn’t see a point in it. There were just some things he didn’t think would change - someone else would replace the higher-ups.

And thus. Despite his massive strength, he never did ever manage to go all out. Perhaps this is symbolic of an inherently gentle/accepting nature? But there was indeed a monster inside him too - the one that thrived on the thrill of killing and defeating. It was a beast he seldom let out. It was a beast with a thirst.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll paraphrase: like a sprinter limited to go at 8kmph, like a singer who is only allowed to whisper her song, a painter unable to use any paints for their desired masterpiece - how dreadfully, painfully unfulfilling.

So of course it was FUN to have this final brawl with Sukuna - to give it his very best, especially when he also didn’t feel lonely anymore with a bunch of monsters he can pass the gauntlet (his body and his will) onto in the worst case scenario.

But of course Gojo doesn’t have the ability to predict the future, so how can anyone expect that he make decisions and judgements perfectly or accurately? All he can do is consider based on his own judgement. Alone. As the only other person who help him plug those holes in his judgement, Geto, had left him.

It is up to interpretation whether Geto was left behind first, but this really isn’t a competition or about assigning blame… because where do we even start?

One cannot hold Gojo totally accountable for things that happen around him or how others interpret his actions. He was born different to everyone else. Probably treated as if he had this role to fill where people had an idea of what they wanted or needed him to be, but never gave much thought over what it would feel like for him.

Gojo, Shoko, and those left behind have had to suffer the same resignation. After all: What else are you supposed to do but resign yourself, in the face of a reality where even to things you don’t wish to happen, have to happen? All you can do is what you can... and if you can, you wield it with all your might.

Geto tried it to the best of his ability.

He wasn’t Gojo, who could do it if he wanted to.

Understanding that Gojo wasn’t, and accepting that he (Geto) shouldn’t change that about him (Gojo), as he was likely more suited to be at the school - essentially following nanami’s words and “leaving it to him” as Gojo was in his element / thrived on it, but Geto couldn’t be complicit in the system that would lead them to watch their own kind die one by one — Geto left to follow his ideals.

Gojo was referred to as the only one who can take that curse into his own hands. I used to see it as “the only one to kill Geto” after he failed and almost lost his humanity for the sake of power (killing Yuta would go against his principles) but now it also has a new meaning: the only one who can take charge and pursue the ideals to actually change the world.

The curse is the sh*t that is in the world of sorcery in jjk. Gojo seemed to (imho) now feel the need to catch up and hold the reins this time.

It is the end of Resignation Man Gojo Satoru. The emergence of The Monster Gojo Satoru (who Geto assisted in helping Gojo keep at bay through being the “model of humanity” that Gojo could follow) who was then fully ready to take the stand. Like Geto on that stage.

Bye higher ups.

Before, despite his immense strength, he didn’t force his way through. Perhaps this was the outcome of having been forced to be born and live with no choice but to be the six eyes + limitless. You do not actually have freedom.

Unless, you’re willing to become a pariah. To wield these cards that were dealt to you and completely become the extraordinary.

And now, Yuta embraces the same resigned acceptance of becoming a monster. After all... only a few will be able and willing to turn into a Monster.

Out of love. A Monstrous love indeed.

Geto had monstrous motherhood in him. I guess this extends to others now too. To cast away humanity because nobody else will. Nobody else can. So they have to wield it. Become it.

Yuta represents both the old and new world... in some way, he is like Gojo and Geto combined... power / strength + sincerity / kindness. Of course, like the yin and yang, each half has a bit of the other in it - so Gojo and Geto had a combination of power and compassion, but they symbolically represent each,

Arguably, had Geto someone else by his side, things may have been different.

All of this mess… ugh.

It didn’t have to come to this, right? Nor did it have to be the extermination of humans, but it could’ve been a collaboration of the special grades (Yuki, Gojo, Geto) all trying to solve the 3 different factors to the problem: humans as the origin of curses (research), the old-fashioned higher ups + clans, and the elimination of the curses. There may be others, but you get my gist.

But alas, this is the jjk world.

Just some thoughts, I’ll end it here before it’s more word vom.

[echo-lover]

I wanted to share my thoughts about the first three episodes of Bad Batch season 3 immediately after watching them, but I was too emotional about everything I saw that I needed some time to calm down a bit.

It's beyond my expectations, just perfect! From the plot, to the characters, through the beautiful graphics and wonderful music, everything was epic. This season will definitely be much more mature and dark than the others. I love Bad Batch with all my heart and words cannot describe how important these characters are to me. I don't think I will focus on each episode separately, but I will show my general feelings and thoughts.

Something that touched my heart deeply was how Omega becomes so much like Hunter. Her facial expressions, her eyes, tactical skills and that characteristic whistle! I immediately thought of Hunter. She became so mature, strong, decisive and calm in stressful situations. It's clear that she's no longer the same little child we met on Kamino in the first season. She has changed so much... Even Crosshair seems to see this, as he let her lead during his escape from Mount Tantiss. He was her support, did not question her ideas and did not hesitate to follow orders. I love watching their bond become stronger. Every day Omega came to his cell, talked about her day... and he listened... he had no choice because he couldn't just go, but I think they both needed each other's presence. They knew they were not alone and encouraged each other, in some way.

It is clear that Omega still misses the rest of her brothers and strongly believes that she will be able to return to them again, together with Crosshair. She can't imagine leaving him, it's out of the question. No matter how hard Crosshair tries to make her believe that he is not worth saving, she will still be on his side. I think Crosshair realized through her that his brothers never really wanted to leave him and were willing to take him back at any time if he just wanted...

Even though Omega has become more mature, she is still a child. Being locked in a cell, the routine and monotony of life must be very exhausting for her, because she is by nature a lively, active and curious sweet girl. She spent most of her life locked up and the only good memories she had were of freedom and her brothers, even though it wasn't for a long time. She even made herself a doll like Lula, who stayed on the Marauder with Hunter and Wrecker. This parallel symbolizes their connection, despite the enormous distance that separated them. And Batcher... Omega doesn't want to forget, she wants to remember her brothers, the love she had for them and received from them, all those good memories together... Ouch...

Somewhere in another part of the Galaxy, two brothers are desperately looking for their little sister. Their worn armor shows that they have fought hard during this time. Hunter also has different bandana... I've seen a theory that it's similar to the band Omega wore on his wrist in season two. This way, maybe Hunter wanted to always have her close to him, at least a part of her, I wonder if he can smell her scent... Oh Force, I'm gonna cry...

The sight of Hunter having difficulty working with Tech's Datapad, how desperate he is to do everything he can to find Omega, how exhausted he seems... Maybe it's just me, but he looks thinner and has paler skin than before. This breaks my heart. I'm sure he was thinking about Tech who could do the job in a second. The sight of his goggles resting alone, the empty space he once occupied... Marauder never looked so lonely... Let me tell you, I shed a tear.

I really liked how Wrecker was the voice of reason in his conversation with Hunter. It's beautiful how one look, a nod of the head, or a hand on the shoulder can bring Hunter down. They support each other and it is clear that after everything they have lost, they have become even closer. They need each other to keep from going crazy.

Even though they are the only two left, Wrecker still considers Hunter to be the leader and waits for his orders even though he knows he doesn't have to. He remains loyal. When he was talking to the little cadets on the Marauder, I was so happy when I heard his laughter. Honest, loud and heartwarming. I think he's needed this for a long time. He definitely misses the company of a child on board, he loves children so much...

I also love that little scene where Hunter is working and looks at Lula out of the corner of his eye, thinking about Omega. He can't live without her... I feel like if they were separated again, he wouldn't be able todeal with it and would just explode, showing all the anger and despair he was holding, possibly doing something stupid in the process... He loves his little Omega too much that he can't imagine life without her. He is ready to drop everything just to be able to hold her close to him, to keep her safe. I'm so scared for him.

On the one hand, I was surprised that Echo didn't stay with the boys to look for Omega, but I expected him to join Rex. They may also be searching, but I think their main goal is to free prisoners and gather as many allies as possible to create the Clone Rebellion.

I could talk for hours and still not express all my thoughts and emotions that these episodes made me feel. I can't wait for next Wednesday.

[jasmines-library]

idea for a little spn and batfamily crossover!

imagine reader being part of the batfamily and maybe like 17-19 and also is the horseman of war. imagine the apocalypse starts and the brothers and cas come looking for her seeking her help and everything

Bringers of The Apocalypse:

Part one: Time to Wield The Blade

Note: this is such a cool concept I couldn’t say no to writing it! When I started writing I honestly wasn’t sure where to go with it at first, but as I carried on I grew to like it. I hope you all do too.

Word Count: 3.1K

BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧ SERIES ML ⛧ SPN MASTERLIST

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

The Horsemen are drawing nearer On leather steeds they ride They've come to take your life On through the dead of night With The Four Horsemen ride Or choose your fate and die

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

It had been coming for a long while. You knew the minute that Dean Winchester was dragged off to hell and the first seal was broken that it was coming. The stench of its inevitability hung as one big fat cloud in the air but at first you still held out a little hope. A spark. A fraction of optimism that somehow someway the Winchesters would find a way to stop the seals being broken. But demons were tricky. You had never like the evil fuckers. You had hoped that Sam and Dean would notice that behind Ruby’s compelling eyes and false smile, there was a snake waiting for her prey to fall right into her trap. But it just so happened that lady luck was not on your side and the cage doors came blasting off their hinges for Lucifer to rise again. And with him would come the apocalypse.

~

The day was hot, the sky was cloudless and the flowers were in full bloom. It was so nice that you would have been described as perfect if your head didn’t feel like it was being pounded upon by a meat cleaver. It was was because there were there in the back of your mind, whispering away. Your brothers. The other three horsemen: Pestilence, Famine and Death. The bringers of the apocalypse. It had been many years since you had seen them, albeit they would still occasionally pop up in the back of your mind for a chat. A perk of being a celestial being you supposed. Though right now you were trying to shut them out and failing miserably. Sometimes you would find that they grew irritating, constantly disagreeing with each others actions or views. Perhaps that was the reason that after thousands of years together all of you had decided to go your separate ways. That was when you had decided to start over again in Gotham.

You remember the day distinctly. Bruce Wayne had opened you with open arms after you had decided to help them on a patrol with a particularly sticky villain. You were young. Well, younger. Time passes by strangely for a horseman. You have been alive since the very beginning. Since man decided to declare war on another. That was what you did. You aided and guided war. And it was a cruel job. You had seen a lot in your time as a horseman. Some things that made you squeeze your eyes shut until there were wrinkles on your forehead and nose. But someone had to do it. For the longest time it had just been the five of you: you, your brothers and God. For there cannot be no light without dark. No life without death. And while it had been exciting at times…it was lonely. Heart wrenching too for your entire existence was dedicated to something that caused so many people so much pain…often you had just wanted to quit.

You watched the world build foundations and knock them down again and again until it slowly morphed into what it is now. Over that time you had grown to love Earth and its people. Their complexities intrigued you. So, slowly but surely you began to build yourself a life on earth. You began to create your own human identity so that you could feel something more. And so you and your brothers split to begin lives amongst humans. To help keep an eye on things and to carry out your jobs more effectively. After all, it’s much easier to understand someone when you put yourselves in their shoes.

You kept to yourself mostly. You forged yourself an identity. Then came along Bruce Wayne and his espionage of Robins who embraced the real you instead of shunning you away. You felt loved and tried oh so hard to enjoy your time with your family. Until one night Lucifer tore that all away from you.

The feeling cut through you like a knife, tearing the wind from your lungs. Dick would have thought you were dying from a gunshot had it not been for the fact that you had been lounging beside him on the couch when it happened. You clutched at your chest tightly, clawing for breath as though you were suffocating. He was looking at you with wide eyes when you removed your hand from your chest allowing your breathing to finally slow. And there it was, shimmering against the light. Golden lines that twisted around your wrists. They were pretty like: shifting in rich shades of gold that would make even the richest of men jealous, though the meaning made you want to scream and shout. To kick your legs around like a small child just in hope of a small chance that it would disappear. Albeit instead you closed your eyes tight and took a sigh of defeat.

A binding.

Lucifer had bound you to him.

~

A gentle breeze drifted through the air. It was enough to make the branches dance softly as it passed through providing a small moment of relief against the warm summer's afternoon. The sun was still high in the sky, casting golden shadows against the ground that moved as she pivoted in the sky. It was truly a nice evening, so you had decided to sit in the garden to enjoy the day for once.

You had chosen a lounge chair tucked away by the flowers. They were in full bloom and adorned the garden with shades of reds, pinks and whites. It was a nice burst of colour against all of the green hedges that Alfred kept pruned back cleanly.

At first, you wanted to curl up with a book and catch a bit of sunshine but you had long since set that aside on the pillow next to you. You hadn’t really been reading it anyway; more like scanning the words blankly without letting them even register in your mind before you had moved on.

The truth was you were distracted. You had been since the minute Lucifer placed those bonds on your skin. It began to affect your everyday thinking. Every minute was consumed by the thought of him. And your brothers, whose whispers in the back of your mind grew louder and louder as time ticked by You were waiting for him to call you to him any minute. The anticipation ate away at you but you tried to ignore it and let it get stale.

Something was changing.

You had felt it coming: a ticking in the back of your mind. And you shouldn’t have been so thrown off by it: you had been watching and waiting patiently for it to arrive for years, but now it was finally here you couldn’t help the bubbling feeling in your stomach.

You sat twirling the ring around your finger: A simple gold band that fit snugly around your ring finger. It was far less ornate than the ones that the other horsemen shared, but you supposed that was the beauty of it. So war is so complex…yet simplified too much in the public eye. Being with you since the beginning, the ring was so much more than meets the eye. Holding the key to your power it was a symbol of who you are and so so much more. It was also the reason that you knew you would have to leave soon. Sooner or later you would be forced to reunite with your bothers under Lucifer’s binding to begin the apocalypse. Unless you could convince them to use the rings for good and to create the key to the cage to send lucifer back. Though you knew it would be much harder to get your brothers to give up their rings. They did not share the same values as you did.

“Y/N?” It was Damian who made his way toward you from the double doors. He had seen you leave a few hours ago and had watched you for hours as you sat trying to work through whatever was clearly bothering you. He had tried to figure it out himself: Damian had always been good at reading people, though you stumped him. He could never quite figure you out. He supposed that was one of the reasons you were so special. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” You nodded, still twirling the band around your finger. “I’ll come back in a moment. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Not at all.” Damian gestured to the bench and you slid over so he could squeeze in beside you. “What’s on your mind?”

There was no easy way to put it. You knew exactly what it was and you knew that you were going to have to tell them about it at one point or another. So why couldn’t you bring the words to your lips? Why were the words you had spent so long rehearsing refusing to speak? It’s not like your family didn’t know who you were. In fact, that was one of the reasons that Bruce adopted you into the family. For years and years you had known nothing but War, Famine, Pestilence and Death. And they were all so different from you. Without the same morals you were often left aside. Or sneered at when they thought you weren’t looking. You had nothing. And now Bruce and given you everything. Perhaps that was why you were so hesitant to tell him. As it meant that you would have to leave. Although you knew it was inevitable, you had hoped it wouldn’t have been this soon. The thought bothered you deeply, so with a heavy sigh you decided to just spit it out and get it over with.

“The apocalypse is beginning.”

Damian faltered, jaw nearly falling open like an old doll that had lost its jaw hinges. “So soon?”

“I am afraid so.” you chewed on the inside of your lip.

The boy fell into silence for a moment as he tried to process the information.

“They will be coming for me soon.” You told him “if I don’t go to them first.”

Hunters. Sam and Dean Winchester. They were infamous and you heard whispers that they were looking for the rings. So you knew that sooner or later they would be coming for you to use everything in their will to get their grips on your ring.

“You’re leaving. Aren’t you?” Damian asked at your silence. You couldn’t bear to meet the young boy’s gaze. Instead you opted to watch the petals fall from the flowers as the wind knocked them from their beds.

“Yes.”

“Do you have to?” Damian pleaded “why can’t you stay here in hiding? We can protect you!”

Damian’s gesture made your heart melt. You knew they would try to protect you. They had for years. But this was the apocalypse and as strong as they were, they stood little chance against the end of the world. You had told them before that this would come one day. That you would have to leave to complete something dangerous and they could not follow. So it hurt to hear Damian plead for your safety.

“Sometimes, Dami, we have duties to fulfil that we do not want to do. But we must for the greater good.”

“But what if you get hurt!? If you leave us and we can’t protect you then-

“Oh Dami.” You turned to face him, placing a gentle hand on his arm and trying to swallow down the guilt that ate away at you “I will be fine. Promise.”

~

Sleep did not come easily to you that night. In fact, it didn’t come to you at all. Instead you lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling as you tried to plan out how you would tell them you were going to leave. It would be difficult. For you and them. And the situation wouldn’t go down without a verbal fight between the six of you.

You had considered just getting up and leaving in the middle of the night. They would piece it together sooner or later if Damian hadn’t already told them, which he likely had, so it would save you the pain of having to tell them yourself. But you couldn’t do that to them. It was unfair. So instead you lay awake planning how you would break their hearts.

No matter how many times you tried to think it through, you just couldn’t get the words to sound right. They were always too formal or straight to the point. You could just picture their faces: Dick’s gaze refusing to meet yours, Tim’s eyes glazing over and Jason’s brow hardening. The thought of leaving there and then crossed your mind again.

But then, the decision was made for you.

Almost silently, the window to your bedroom began to slide open inching upward slowly. You moved watched it hesitantly for a second before noting the tall silhouettes that tried to keep their backs pinned to the wall of your balcony. Swiftly, you were up on your feet and moving to stand in front of the window, readying your fists in case of the the figures got too trigger happy and moved to attack you first.

When the first figure squeezed through the window, dressed in plaid, he seemed taken a back to see you standing there watching him struggle through the small space. With a flick of his head he gestured to the other man, who shared a similar likeness, and reached for his pistol holstered in his back pocket. With a flick of your hand you turned on the light.

“No need to draw a weapon on an an unarmed girl is there?”

“War?” The taller one squinted at you, leaning forward to study you.

You nodded calmly. The smaller man eyed you warily and you saw him hand inch towards his pocket where he more than likely had a weapon concealed.

“You’re… younger than I expected.” The tall one noted.

“I’m older than I look.” You told him. “How did you get in?” You asked. Security around the cave was high, but not impossible to bypass if you were exceptionally well trained like these two seemed to be, the real challenge was your family who had eyes on every window like a hawk and seemed to have a 6th sense for unwanted visitors.

“Snuck under the fence. There’s a gap between the hedges in the garden. If you stick close enough to the shadows and move at the right time the cameras have enough blind spots to get by mostly unnoticed. And besides that? We’re damn good at our job.” The older one said.

You hummed. Smart, you thought, making a mental note to tell Alfred about the fencing.

The taller one with the long hair opened his mouth to speak and you could tell from the way he shifted his feet uncomfortably that you were in for a very long winded explanation of why they needed you to come with them, so you decided to put yourself out of your own misery and to beat him to it.

“I know who you are, Sam Winchester.” You watched his face drop. “I know why you’re here.”

“Then you’ll know we need that ring.” Dean barked.

“I know. And if you’re as experienced as people say you are then you’ll know that I can’t just give it to you.”

“Well it’s either that or we take it from you, sweetheart.” Dean clenched his jaw. His voice had little to no remorse despite the fact that he knew it would end in your untimely demise. Or close to it. But he was growing desperate: the fate of the whole world quite literally depended on his actions. The fate of his brother. And Dean Winchester was not one to give in to fate.

You inched away from them, subconsciously twirling the ring around your finger savouring the coolness of it against your skin. “You know that’s not possible.”

“Listen here sweetheart. We need that ring to send Lucifer back to that god forsaken hell hole he crawled out of and-“

“I know. But I cannot give you the ring.” You told him. “I have a life here. A family. I will not give myself up just like that. And besides…” you rolled up your sleeves to reveal the shimmering binding on your arms. “He will know the second I do. I am bound to him and to fulfil in duties in the bringing of the apocalypse.”

Sam and Dean’s faces fell.

“However I am willing to help you as much as I can.”

“How so?”

“I will help you get the other rings. I will help you save Sam Winchester and I will give everything to hand you my ring to send Lucifer back to the cage on one condition.”

“Go on.” Sam nodded.

“You help find a way to make me human.”

“What?” Dean was sure he had misheard you.

“If I give up that ring. I lose everything. I will become a shell of a person. So lifeless that there is hardly any point in living. That is if I don’t die the second the my brothers, or lucifer lay eyes on me. If I become human… I can live out my life here with my family. As a Wayne.”

The two shared a look. It said a thousand more things that words could have.

“Son of a Bitch…” Dean murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

NEXT

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS:

@aestheticdaisies @hell-o-kittys @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hearts4robs @harleycao

+ SUPERNATURAL TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

[even-disco-baby]

ESPIRIT DE CORPS  — The lieutenant is aware that you adore him. Painfully so. You aren’t exactly subtle about it.

Oh god. I’m not? Oh fuck.

Good! I wasn’t trying to be *subtle* about it.

Hey. No need to get personal.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Sorry, boss. His thoughts, not mine.

In any case, he is aware. Your adoration is plain for all to see, even for such an island of a man as the lieutenant is. Or once was, perhaps. And his own feelings toward you are… difficult to describe, but they are there. 

EMPATHY — Strong feelings. 

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — He doesn’t know if they can be called love, but it is a thought that has occurred to him. In a broad sense, they surely are love of *some* kind, at the very least. You are his friend. He cares for you. And…

HALF LIGHT — And he is afraid of you.

EMPATHY — And he is afraid *for* you.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — And he is afraid for himself.

YOU — Afraid? Why?

INLAND EMPIRE — You know why. Do not fool yourself. You, with the scaffold of you all awry. There is no part of you that offers him sure footing.

ENDURANCE — Even your body… One way or another, he knows that he’ll probably be the one to find you dead, and it could come any day.

I hope it’s soon.

I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.

No! I don’t want to do that to him…

Wait a second! Who said anything about dying?! I’m turning over a new leaf! I want to live!

PAIN THRESHOLD — Oh, Harry… You still don’t understand, do you? You’re already dying. You’re a miracle, really. You know you nearly had a fatal heart attack just from stubbing your toe in the dark this morning? It’s no longer a matter of if, but when.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Hey, you’ve always known that you were gonna be here for a good time, not a long time! The lieutenant ought to take a page out of your book, instead of being such a miserable, lonely old man.

RHETORIC — No offense, but I don’t think that the partying has made you any less miserable, lonely, or old. 

KIM KITSURAGI — Your partner takes another long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He holds it there for a moment, then slowly breathes it out into the night.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — He accepted a long time ago that this ritual may very well be the death of him, too. It’s a risk that he has made far more calculated by his rigid discipline. He would find it difficult to live without these small indulgences, but nearly impossible if he granted them too much power over himself.

And so it is with *you.* He can indulge himself with questions, imaginings. What it would be like to lower his spines and be a softer kind of animal. But he cannot give these feelings any more power over him than this, or it will be the death of him.

YOU — …Am I really so bad that I would kill him?

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — No. Worse than that, you would *change* him. You or anyone. To entertain the notion of true love as anything more than a pleasant, unattainable dream would be the death of the man that he has built himself into over the decades. He would become something so much smaller and more vulnerable. An animal with a soft belly exposed to the world.

YOU — Is that really anything to be afraid of?

HALF LIGHT — It is the only thing that there is to be afraid of.

INLAND EMPIRE — He is right to be afraid. The world is nothing but a series of patterns, so easily disrupted and changed and lost forever. There is no sense in any of it, no grand reason that makes any of it worth the terror and the pain. The world will swallow you both and then be swallowed whole. Après le monde, le gris. Après le gris… rien. There is nothing that either of you could offer the other to change this. In the face of it, your small bodies and your fleeting thoughts become so unbearably absurd. 

VOLITION — No. It is bearable. 

YOU — It is?

VOLITION — It is the only thing that there is to bear.

[ketterdamskaelishprince]

ada's spectre, and why i'll likely always feel sad about it

here is the promised analysis/talk about ada's spectre. going to preface this by saying i obviously don't know the true intent behind everything and her design, i just like to look, giggle and then make sad little observations which just help me love this silly webcomic even more. so if you disagree with me on something– totally ok! i love to learn and i love to see different interpretations.

there's also a few bits i missed out because i wrote this all last night in a bit of a haze, and i cannot be bothered to expand on some of my ideas, especially when it's just stuff like "BROS SO PARANOID AND RAW RIGHT NOW".

anyways, here we go :) @mugcereal this one's for u pookie <3

so i think with ada's spectre, we first need to look at the instance as to how she gets it, because that always makes things way more sad!

to specify, she turns into her spectre at episode 69, and i think it's really sad how she does it. she basically gets a string of roasts from prospero that go along the lines of calling her "conceited" "twadry" and "... and stupid!" – effectively throwing back in ada's face what she believes everyone thinks of her.

(obviously, as a very big and glaring sidenote, i believe prospero is aro/ace or just aromantic so OBVIOUSLY i am not bashing him for this. bros told her so many times that he doesn't want to be with her, let alone to be touched. that is a flaw in ada's character and is a reminder to us on the importance of boundaries!!!!)

so, ada is basically there, collapsed on the floor in a robe– effectively showing the most intimate and private part of herself as an insecure and lonely girl. and that's when she transforms.

i think it's interesting to understand how this most likely links to her life and how she died. so we know she was killed with an axe, most likely by the man she fell in love with and worked for, and how prospero's words in this situation, hurt her just the same as the words before her death. why?

because they remind ada of what she knows and fears she is: just a stupid, fake and cheap person who will never have the same status and respect as the people she pretends to be and surrounds herself by.

i think it's also interesting that she's clutching her stomach/torso here, and correct me if i'm wrong but that could be a potential signal to the part of her that was axed to death (?). no idea if that's a good shout or not but it's what i first thought!

anyways! now we move onto her spectre design!

first of all, her spectre design eats. like just a personal side note, i love it. it's just so gorgeous and i don't care if she's terrifying to some because to ME? to me, she's my gorgeous little pookie who can scream and show people their worst fears and she looks amazing whilst she does it <3

ok anyways, actual design.

to first understand her design, i thought i'd show you what banshee's traditionally in folklore look like!

typically, they are described in two ways. the first way is a youthful women with long black hair, blue eyes and just super pale. this description could also lose the blue eyes and just keep the black hair– either way the first depiction of a banshee is a super young woman.

this is not the one we're focussing on today folks!

we're going to focus on the second depiction. a hag/ old woman, with red cheeks, a grey cloak and a green dress, often seen to be combing her hair. banshee's throughout folklore are known to wail, scream and cry when a family member had died. to most, the banshee was a sign that death was coming to your household and they are known in myths and folklore as a predictor of death.

now, hold onto the green dress and look at ada's design real quick for me.

here we see a lot of green, which yay! definitely shows signs it comes from the second depiction. i think, on top of it being a nod to the second depiction, i think it could also be an allusion to something else: jealousy.

green symbolism in media can often vary, from meaning new life, luck and also jealousy. and i think if we take in the things ada screams whilst in her spectre form, such as this from episode 82:

you see there definitely is some sort of jealousy there, but this isn't something i necessarily want to focus on, it's just an observation i made that may or may not be true!

anyways, to continue, i want to look at ada's outfit when she's a banshee. i'm going to basically be making my notes i took last night look nicer.

(keep in mind that when i wrote these, my ideas were literally bouncing off my brain and sometimes they're a bit contradictory, but i think that's the beauty of my crack theory analysis!)

i think the act of almost showing her bones to the outside, there's a level of rawness to ada we don't usually see. her spectre form essentially gives her the power to scream out her anger, and by seeing her bones it's almost as if to say this is the ada she doesn't show people. this is the ada that she keeps to herself because god forbid anybody love her (because in life and death it's become abundantly apparent to her that nobody does seem to love that ada).

but then, what i thought was also a super cool thing as how the bones almost act like a corset!

then i got sad because i looked at the bows, and because something dawned on me and it made me start to frown. there was a sad realization to me as i looked at ada's spectre design that even in this all powerful form, she hasn't lost her insecurities, they just become more prevellant. because for all of the traditional wrinkles, hag-like appearance a banshee is meant to have, ada barely has any.

obviously this could be in part to character design and stuff, and yeah probably– but let me be sad!

because ada carries her frills and bows from life here because she doesn't want to be ugly, she doesn't want to be this creeping monster who rips apart people. because if she's not got her intelligence or status or anything going for her, she has her appearance and by god she's not going to let that go to waste. so here her spectre form is, a banshee.

so what must ada do? she must takes her frills and keep her insecurities, her fears and her crippling need to be loved.

another aspect which is super interesting is the stitching on her body. one one hand, it could be an allusion to her violent death, suggesting the man she fell in love with didn't just stop at axing her once, but just kept on fucking going (which, you know: fuck you, whoever you are).

but on the other hand, it could be a metaphor for ada's thinly veiled facade she puts on of being a prim and proper lady (which we actually, interestingly enough, see she looses a lot the more time she spends with montresor– opting to take parts of his language like "ain't" and "beggin'". this sort of leads on from previous ideas people have made of ada willing to change herself to be loved. she swaps civility for the wild wild west all for a bit of love).

ada offers up parts of herself in this metaphor. that's what she always does. she offers herself to the rich man she fell in love with, she offers herself up to prospero (again, look at the. side note. bro wasn't wrong for rejecting her he literally can't like her) and she offers herself up to the acolytes and she fucking barks for them (because i'm not over that).

piece by piece, she strips away everything she is until she literally is just skin and bone. and once she's torn herself apart, she needs to stitch herself back together– because it's against the facade she's put on to look so broken and messy. and so she repeats the cycle again, giving more and more until she is literally hanging on by a thread.

her powers are also super cool. traditionally, as i said, banshees wail when a family member is soon to die/has died, and is often like an omen/predictor of death. so yeah, ada having a banshee scream makes sense. but the whole 'fear itself' is also super cool. i kind of like that she has this– because its sort of satisfying for her, the girl who's been pushed over but still comes running back, to watch as people become paralysed with fear. idk, retribution or whatever.

i'm going to leave you with this not very profound thing i wrote last night (and then just some other mumblings):

i think that although spectres are super powerful and also just a very fantastic concept, they're also fragile. spectres are quite literally the monster inside of you. yet here ada's monster is, and with all her bows and revamped dress of a banshee (or potentially an allusion to her life as a maid) she tries desperately to be anything but that. because to here it's ugly and it's too much of her on display. and with some much of you on display comes the very fear that if you are hated, disliked or something repulsive, you no longer have anything to blame on anybody else. you just have yourself to blame.

(as morella says here in episode 88).

i'm not saying ada isn't deeply flawed, because she is. she has so much fucking baggage and insecurities that they literally forbid her from doing the right thing sometimes. i don't think she's a good person, but i also think that she has the opportunity to be a good person/ do a semi-good/ non-bad thing, and all she has to do is take it. but i also think it's nice how that's shown in her spectre design.

and, you know, if none of this makes sense, that's also fine!

anyways, yeah. somebody tell me never to make a random analysis at night again because it's a bit of a bitch to translate in the morning.

[donnabenevientosimpingzone]

🔫

Can I have more Donna headcanons plz. I'm a lonely lesbian who loves fiction female Italians

Lmao I got plenty<3

- y’all probably know I interpret her pretty differently. She’s a lot stronger and independent than the normal but she’s still a super anxious and shy individual. She’s a beautiful paradox I cannot begin to describe.

- She’s high functioning depressed and autistic. On the surface she’s someone who has order and routine- who can handle being at meetings with others and talk to people as equals- but spend enough time with her and you’ll see that she will just lay in bed and not get out. That she thinks herself as smaller than others.

- Angie is a side of herself she’s stored away, the memories and personality Donna had with Claudia. In order to keep that final happiness, all those memories are stored in Angie and has influenced the doll to be the way she is.

- Donna has never experimented with her powers to know their full capabilities. Even the concept that she can cause nightmarish hallucinations to kill someone without raising a blade terrifies her.

- She has an accent that comes through when she’s tired or just not thinking about it. Sometimes it’s so heavy that even she’ll jump at the sound of her own voice.

- Cursed solely in Italian. Angie’s the one that says “fuck” and Donna can live through her.

- Donna cannot take full control of Angie, just heavily influence her- if Angie doesn’t want to do something then Donna can’t force her hand. It rarely happens though.

- On uncommon days she’ll walk through her woods around the manor with Angie. Her anxiety, esteem, and motivation must all line up but every time she doesn’t regret it and comes home with a sense of peace.

- A horrible fidget when she’s not aware of it. During meetings or talks or anything that her brain is running anxiety on- she’s still as stone. But at home, she’ll speak to Angie with her mind unable to focus on one thing. Her hands will play with her hair, tug at her dress, tap against a teacup- head swaying to watch strands of hair swish in and out of her vision- feet shuffling against the floor, picking at scabs or the peeling skin beneath her fingernails- just to name a few. You’d have to be very close to her to see any of it in action for yourself though.

- Existentially stuck in the past. Although she’s aware of the present and what the future may hold- she’s constantly thinking about the past, comparing it, using it to determine what person she is. Getting close to her is a difficult task when the past still haunts her and controls her.

- During episodes of breakdowns where she just does not want to live like this anymore, she’ll pick and pull at the Cadou infesting her eye. Cursing it for keeping her alive.

- Her anger manifests in two ways; a depressive self hatred that causes her to coil in on herself- where she feels guilty for being angry at all and tells herself over and over to just suck it up, it’s not a big deal- or an expressed destruction where she loses majority of control over her powers and dolls run rampant.

- Her sadness is a building cycle. She’ll get upset at something and cry, but absolutely hate herself for it and scold herself for being weak, which then makes her feel worse, and she’ll continue this cycle until she’s exhausted and just can’t cry anymore.

- She’s a mix of self loathing and self love. On one hand she will destroy any mirror she sees her reflection in and go days punishing herself for simply existing, but on the other hand she really does want to love herself. It manifests as a weird ball of complex feelings- she could be proud of an accomplishment but also feel shit that it isn’t the number one best accomplishment ever- and that she’s a fool for being happy about it. Yet she keeps it around, calling upon it as a comfort… even if at the same time it brings her pain.

- Simultaneously wants romance and affection but also absolutely terrified by it. She’ll read the books and let her creativity run wild, surprisingly a hopeless romantic, but if it’s even an inch close to her in reality- she’ll rather run.

- She’s on the autistic spectrum to mistake normal, platonic affection as romantic. Hell even if she doesn’t have feelings for that person- she’ll gaslight herself to “catch feelings.” In the past, she’s fucked up a relationship that way- becoming an aggressively toxic person for the attention, affection- wanting the person only for herself and herself only- and unknowingly manipulating them to fulfill that selfish, unconscious desire. She’s realized her mistake months after, and has become much more reserved and mindful because of it.

- A sponge for knowledge. She’s a big ole nerd, loves anything to do with science, has little mock research she’ll do with her own garden that’ll tickle her. While she herself is more on botany, Angie ends up soaking in more zoology, both of their knowledge combined is beyond impressive.

- She feels music very deeply in her heart. Doesn’t matter if it’s instrumentals or with lyrics, it resonates with her strongly and she has strong attachment to particular songs based on memories, feeling, and hope.

- Sleeps with some sort of noise- white noise, music, the rain- sleeping in complete silence unnerves her.

- Wakes up to Angie screaming in her face every morning. Wouldn’t have it any other way<3

- Angie eats and drinks in small amounts, the Cadou is still a parasite that needs substance, but since it’s a part of Donna’s Cadou- Donna can sometimes feel the effects of what Angie eats. Woman could be taking a stroll and suddenly taste dirt cuz Angie ate shit chasing a squirrel.

- Protective of the remaining eye. The Cadou took away the sight in the eye it infects so Donna has learned to deal with challenged depth perception. She’ll often reach for things too far right or left if she ever got full vision back.

- Silent walker without even meaning to be. She also somehow manages to silently run (if she is on the unique occasion to jog through the woods).

- Doesn’t sweat easily. Her body is already naturally pretty cold so any form of workout will need to be pretty long/intense for her to start sweating.

- She is aware her body (especially at the ends) is pretty cold. She refuses to give anyone hand shakes because she’s secretly Elsa and will freeze yo’ ass.

- Angie jokes that Donna stands in the sun to photosynthesize, rather than to warm herself up like some kinda sunbathing lizard.

- Surprisingly very warm during the winter, Donna’s an ice pack in the summer and a heat pack in the winter.

- No she doesn’t know why either wheeze.

- On the few occasions she’s free from her anxieties- Donna is quite chaotic. She used to be the prankster of the family and still has part of that alive within her- Angie especially has to be the victim of said pranks (but she loves it no matter how loudly she complains)

- Doesn’t like to have pictures of herself taken, but Donna does have a rare few in-the-moment photos she adores.

[aha-chuu]

So many Kavetham thoughts

I wanted to discuss Alhaitham and Kaveh’s canonical relationship now that we know all of Kaveh’s character stories and voicelines. I will not be going into event or quest leaks since I have not seen them, so rest assured this is just the information from Kaveh’s profile.

Short summary: Alhaitham is two years Kaveh’s junior, and Kaveh befriended him out of curiosty, since so many people had a low opinion of him. Kaveh himself described Alhaitham as his “best friend” at this time, and when they met it was when Kaveh had just started living on his own for the first time (an arrangement he very much disliked, thinking of home as a “cold and lonely” place). They end up working on a project together along with several other scholars, but all but them gradually drop off as they cannot keep up with Alhaitham and Kaveh’s overwhelming intellect.

Kaveh attempts to help his peers, stretching himself very thin and burning out as he takes up their workload so that they do not fall behind. It actually reminds me of Alhaitham’s story quest, where the scholar doing all the work behind the scenes is unappreciated and eventually hits a breaking point, taking his own life. Before Kaveh can get to such a point, Alhaitham confronts him:

“ Kaveh maintained that Alhaitham was too much of an egoist, that he could be much better welcomed amongst people if he would just care about helping out more often. Alhaitham for his part pointed out that Kaveh's impractical idealism was just a flight from reality, and that it would come to be a burden on his existence someday, and the source of Kaveh's altruism was naught but his inescapable sense of guilt. “

And this is the beginning of the end. Alhaitham uncovers the reality that Kaveh’s altruism is not born of his selflessness, but instead out of guilt for feeling that he cannot inconvenience others the way he encourages others to inconvenience him. It is a cutting and blunt remark from Alhaitham, one that Kaveh cannot cope with:

“ Kaveh felt cut to the quick by someone who was his best friend. Alhaitham had seen through the reality that he had never been able to face, causing him to feel reality's bite for the first time “

And some people have pointed to this as the reason their relationship fell apart, that Alhaitham’s words were simply too severe and he ignored how they would make Kaveh feel. While it is true that Alhaitham does bluntly hurt Kaveh's feelings here, it took two people to split them apart - Kaveh's response is:

" Kaveh steadfastly declares that he regretted making friends with this all-too-intelligent person. The two parted ways in a single stroke. Alhaitham would remove his name from that thesis, while Kaveh would rip his copy of the thesis apart in a fury — only to put it back together with deep regret. He sensed that he would not be able to change his friend, with the reverse also being true. "

The nail in the coffin wasn't Alhaitham forcing Kaveh to face the reality of his life, but instead that was the catalyst for Kaveh declaring that he regretted his and Alhaitham's friendship. Considering Kaveh is Alhaitham's only friend (or at least, the friend through which he met all his other friends), I can only imagine how that would have felt. And ofc Alhaitham is an exceedingly rational person, but he does have feelings.

I thought that in their current relationship, Alhaitham had let go of most of his anger and Kaveh was the one still caught up in the past. After all, Alhaitham often seems teasing in his jabs, where Kaveh sounds more genuine. While this does still seem true to an extent, Alhaitham's line "where were you when Sumeru needed you most?" feels worse now we know that Kaveh was the one to renounce their friendship. They both were "abandoned" in a sense by all the people closest to them, but while that made Alhaitham reserved and self-reflective it made Kaveh cling on to those around him to avoid looking inward at himself.

And Alhaitham removing his name from the thesis, reflective of a clean break. Kaveh, on the other hand, tears it to shreds - he's spiralling, angry and guilty, but he also can't face the truths that Alhaitham exposed to him. It's important, imo, that Kaveh then repairs the thesis. I take that as an implication that he wants to repair their relationship, he just does not know how to. 

This can also be seen in Kaveh’s voiceline ‘About Alhaitham - It’s Complicated’:

“ Alhaitham helped me out a fair amount recently. If we were still as close as we were during our student days, then I'd be thanking him every chance I got. Now, though... I can't seem get a word of appreciation out of my mouth. Even if I could, I wouldn't want to give him the satisfaction. I guess you could say our relationship is something of a mixed bag these days? Honestly, with everything that's happened, it almost feels like the universe has been playing pranks on us... It's hard to make sense of it all... too much to process for one lifetime. I will say that it's not every day that you get to know someone like him — I just wish he could rein in some of the worst excesses of his personality. Okay, yeah, that's never gonna happen. “

I don’t think I can express how closely this links Alhaitham and Kaveh together. It’s not just old friends with differences of opinion; they quite literally make up parts of one another.

The reference to the ‘universe’ is intriguing - while Kaveh is a romanticist who would use this flowery sort of language, in Genshin fate is a thing that plays a huge role. And his confession that it’s too much for a single life time, on top of the fact that their research project was on King Deshret (of whom Kaveh and Alhaitham share qualities)... I am not saying there is a reincarnation situation, but but Genshin often does use characters to reflect their historical figures. 

 In Alhaitham’s character stories, it’s revealed he considers Kaveh a mirror:

“ Kaveh is a familiar face, similarly lacks familial attachments, and is the polar opposite of [Alhaitham] as a scholar — that is to say, an excellent mirror “

and now Kaveh seems to agree, as this is from the end of his character story 5:

“ Rationality and sensibility, language and architecture, knowledge and human feelings... Things that can never be integrated are what constitute the two sides of the mirror — indeed, of the entire world. “

I made a whole other post about this after Kaveh’s drip marketing, but there’s even more now. One thing I personally find quite relevant is their attitudes towards other people; where Alhaitham is an extraordinarily self-reflective individual, Kaveh obsesses over the lives of others. He speaks about wish to “rein Alhaitham in” and an important part of his arc through his character stories is recognising that: “the most unshakable part of one's past is a friend that will never change”. Alhaitham, on the other hand, obsesses over looking inward at himself, claiming that that’s the reason he enjoys Kaveh living with him.

Why are they so different in this way? Simply put: Kaveh is afraid of looking inward, of self-reflection because of the guilt he’s held onto for so many years. He’s extroverted and personable, he has no issue constructing the fantasy of his life for other people to see him through. But Alhaitham can look past all of that, like Kaveh says he’s the only one who truly knows Alhaitham, Alhaitham is the only person who really understands Kaveh.

But Alhaitham isn’t perfect - he’s so focused on himself because he can’t handle others. He doesn’t understand; he can’t comprehend why Kaveh acts like he does even they he knows him so well, and talks a big game about how emotions and logic combine to create human intention/action, but Alhaitham himself falls short of ever really getting it. To him it’s all a formula to be followed - he can get to the correct answer, but he doesn’t know what to do with it.

Kaveh writes in his journal about the project he and Alhaitham undertook, and it goes as follows:

“ Page 31: Some academic notes and architectural drawings. Postscript: "Our views are aligned, and they are complete." This line has been struck out. "Our views are contradictory, but it is through contradiction that more speculation and philosophy may be born." This line has been retained. Page 42: The cover of a thesis that has been torn up, then put together again. No postscript. “

Between them, there is this push and pull. They are completely alike but then entirely different. I’m not even talking specifically from a shipping point of view, their relationship is based around the idea that they are two necessary parts of one whole. Unironically, they would make excellent dual grand sages.

I’m really glad that Kaveh’s character stories dove into their complexity while not sacrificing Kaveh’s individuality as a character. In fact, Alhaitham talks about Kaveh way more in his voicelines than vice versa - perhaps a sign that Alhaitham is more at peace with their relationship? Kaveh believes that “Alhaitham never did perform a good deed unconditionally“ but in the archon quest, Alhaitham claims that he “does not keep track of favours”.

I think Alhaitham was hurt by Kaveh moreso than Kaveh was hurt by Alhaitham. After all, for Kaveh the painful part was being forced to reconcile with the reality of his life, it just so happens that Alhaitham was the one to reveal it to him. Meanwhile, Kaveh denounced their entire friendship just because Alhaitham told him the truth - that is a conflict based solely in their relationship.

They need to have an open and honest conversation, but Kaveh refuses to trust Alhaitham and Alhaitham never asks the right questions. It’s a genuinely tragic dynamic that could be rectified, if only either of them could do what they always fail to. If Kaveh could self-reflect on his own issues, he might be able to recognise that he’s partially to blame for their woes. If Alhaitham could truly attempt to comprehend Kaveh’s actions past ���irrationality”, then he might get out of his own head long enough to wonder about how Kaveh sees him.

[darkbluekies]

In the hands of a madman

Dr yandere! x y/n (og character Dr Kry)

Summary: you went in for a sore throat and has been hospitalized for a month. It seems like your doctor is very persistent on having you here. All hell breaks lose when he sees you talking to another patient and it all becomes clear on why you cannot leave

Warnings: poison, yandere, needles, manipulation, obsessive behavior, possessive behaviour

Word count: 1.6k

"Open ... and close", the white dressed man says in front of you. "Good."

You're left with a bitter taste in your mouth. Why does he always stick that metallic flashlight all the way down your throat?

"We've run your tests and sadly, you're not in any state to leave yet", Dr Kry says. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay here for some more time."

"You said that last time!" you mutter.

"Yes, but Y/N, if you don't feel well, I can't let you go. What if you become worse?"

You sigh. You've been here for a month now. You could say that the hospital is your new home and you wouldn't be joking. But you know none of the nurses. There are always new ones checking up on you and the only one you can talk to is Dr Kry. He's a man in his thirties with blonde hair and glasses. Everything about him is sophistocated and well taken care of. If you could describe him in one word, it'd be 'proper'.

"I know you're disappointed, Y/N", Dr Kry says and moves over to put his hand on your shoulder. "But this is for the best. I don't want you to get worse."

"What is wrong with me?" you ask weakly. "I want to know."

"We don't know yet."

That's a lie, but you don't know that. Dr Kry knows exactly what's wrong with you. He should, he caused it. You went into the hospital for a sore throat and never left afterwards. He had a meeting with you about how you were feeling and after that he knew he had to keep you here. The air in your hospital room has been poisoned. Your air purifier has been drenched in carbon monoxide. He's making sure it's not too much, but enough to keep you hospitalized.

"I know it's hard, Y/N", he says. "But you can always call for me, okay? I'm available all day and all night for you. You're my favorite patient."

You press forward a smile, but can't help but feel a wave of sadness wash over. Why did this happen to you? If only you knew ...

"Let's get you tucked in again", Dr Kry says and helps you lie down. "You shouldn't be putting too much pressure on your body."

He's about to leave the room when you ask him to stay. You can't stand being alone again.

"Please", you whisper. "I don't want to be left here. I don't want to be alone."

The man nods slowly and walks back to the bed, sitting down on the side. A lonely tear rolls down your cheek and he wipes it with a gentle motion. He looks at his wet finger, thinking.

"I feel helpless", you admit. "It doesn't seem like I'll ever be well again."

Little do you know that's just what he wants.

"I'll take care of you, Y/N", he promises. "You won't be sad anymore. I'll sit here with you until you fall asleep, don't worry."

You give him a small, painful smile before shutting your eyes. Another tear falls down.

The next morning you pull yourself out of the bed and out the room, determinded to walk down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. You can't stand the hospital food the nurses bring you. You want iced coffee and something to nibble on.

The white corridors always manage to make the hairs stand up straight. Is it the dehuminized area or the fact that you're never allowed outside? Whatever it is, you decide to speed up your movements and hurry back to your room. You step into the elevator and just as the doors are about to close, another patient stop the doors from closing. A boy with black, curly hair and a golden brown skin tone that shines much needed light in this cold hopsital. He gives you a rushed, apologetic smile and presses himself in.

"Sorry", he says. "I just couldn't wait for the next elevator."

"Are you in a hurry?" you ask.

"You could say that. I escaped from the therapist. A real pain in my ass."

You giggle slightly.

"Have you met her?" the boy asks. "The therapist?"

You shake your head.

"Don't", he advices you. "She's mental. I honestly wonder if she should be the one getting interviewed, not me."

The doors open again. Your floor.

"Are you going to the cafeteria?" he asks.

You nod.

"I'm coming with you", he says. "Maybe you can help me blend in. They're probably looking for a boy who's alone. They won't think I'm me if I'm with you."

You simply nod. The boy seems frantic, but happy. Maybe just what you need.

Together, you walk to the cafeteria where you order your beloved ice coffee and a sandwich. The thought of something sweet and sticky makes your stomach turn. You've been feeling so nauseus ever since you entered this hospital.

"What are you planning to do now?" you ask the boy. "They'll find you sooner or later."

"I don't know actually", he laughs and runs his hand through his thick curls. "I didn't think this far."

You're just about to ask for his name when you can hear someone roaring your name. With a shocked and terrified gaze, you turn. Dr Kry and two security guards storm over to you and your new found friend. The blonde man grabs a hold of your arm and pulls you close to him.

"What are you doing out of bed?" he growls and sends a murderous gaze towards the boy who's being restrained by the guards. "Haven't I told you to rest?"

"B-But-", you start before he cuts you off.

"Why are you speaking with him?"

You open your mouth, but can't seem to answer. The dark, murderous gaze in Dr Kry's blue eyes puts you in a horrific trance. You want to wake up. Your hands open and the coffee falls out of your hands. It seems to be a wakeup call for Dr Kry because he starts dragging you back to the elevator. You throw your head back to catch a glance of the boy you've just met. You can see the guards sticking a needle in his neck and his body going limp. You gasp, but don't have time to see more. The elevator doors are closing. Your body is shaking violently and you look around, eyes stopping on the blonde man.

"W-What is going on?" you ask.

Dr Kry glances at the button panel. You have three floors left. Thirty seconds. He grabs your shoulders and presses you against the wall. Your body goes stiff and you start thinking of every worst case scenario you could ever get in.

"Don't ever talk to anyone again, do you hear me?" the doctor threathens. "You're mine. My patient. And if you do ... you're never getting out of this hospital again. Is that clear?"

You don't answer. What should you answer? You can't agree with this madness! But if you refuse ... what will he do to you?

"Y/N, answer", Dr Kry says, now with a gentle voice. As if he has realized who he's talking to. His hand comes up to caress your cheek. "Don't make me angry. It won't benefit you. I just want you safe, okay? You can't run around the hospital and talk to other guys. I will let you off this time, but next time I can't guarantee what'll happen to you. Okay?"

You only nod, too scared to do something else. He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead for a few seconds before the doors open again. In your shocked state, he pulls you out into the corridor. You can't seem to process what just happened, but before you can register the kiss, you're back in bed. He tucks you in and walks over to the door.

"If you leave this bed again, Y/N", he says warningly, "I'll make sure you'll not be able to."

You gulp. The door closes and a lock clicks behind. Your shaking hands come up to cover your face.

You don't sleep. At all. There's too many thoughts lingering in your head, each getting worse than the last. Why is the therapist so bad at her job? Who was that boy? What happened after the guards neutrilized him? Why did Dr Kry get so mad? Why did he threathen you? What did he mean by all those words? Why did he kiss you? What will he do to you? Why aren't you leaving the hospital?

When Dr Kry comes into the room the next morning, you frown. Where's the nurse?

"Where's the nurse?" you ask.

"I've decided to do everything for you myself", he answers. "We can't trust anyone." He sits down on the side of the bed. "I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About yesterday."

You gulp.

"I never want yesterday to be repeated", Dr Kry says. "You were the reason a mother will never see her son again."

You grow cold and shake your head in fear. No, no ... he can't have done that. He can't. Tears of pure terror and guilt fill your eyes. What have you done to deserve this? What had that poor boy done to deserve that?

"I control your life, Y/N", Dr Kry says. "I decide if you're dead or alive, do you get that? You shouldn't upset me."

You break out in a sob. Dr Kry brings your limp body into his arms and kisses your forehead.

"You're staying here with me, Y/N", he whispers in your ear, hot air fanning your hair. "I'll take every reprocaution I need to make sure you don't disappear."

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing all of this could be a nightmare.

[kingthunder]

Prompt for Geralt and Jaskier: “God I hate you” & “Prove it.” I know you’ll make a masterpiece (like all of your work)!!💜

Rience plays with him. Rience hits him. Rience lights a flame, and laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and all Jaskier can do is burn.

.

Jaskier isn’t quite the same afterwards. The non-essential parts of him have gone up in smoke and what’s left is this: he has found out in the most intimate way possible that when it’s time for hurting—when the very meat of him is black and charred and he can taste the smoke of his own fat on the back of his tongue—that even then he cannot redirect the hurt onto Geralt. He’ll take it all and fold it up inside him and keep Geralt safe, even though Geralt didn’t do the same for him.

He wants to be angry about it. He wants to scream his righteous fury to the skies. Hell, he’s been doing that for a year already, in every tavern that will let him through the door, insisting that he wants Geralt to burn, burn, burn for what he did to Jaskier’s heart.

Only he isn’t angry anymore. He’s burned enough for the both of them. He’s just tired and lonely and misses his friend and wonders, like pushing on a bruise, if Geralt misses him too.

He wants Geralt to miss him too.

.

Later, when everything has gone to hell and back and the dust has settled, Geralt comes to Jaskier’s room in Kaer Morhen.

“We can’t stay,” Geralt says. “I was trying to keep Ciri safe, but all I did was put everyone else in danger. I need to take her somewhere where she can be trained properly.”

Jaskier doesn’t know who Geralt means when he says “we.” It’s been weeks since they hugged through three inches of creaking leather and metal, and in that time he has yet to figure out if he’s still included in Geralt’s life or if the shapes they’ve been broken into don’t fit together anymore. He’ll love Geralt the same regardless, but he needs to guard his heart.

“I wish you the best,” Jaskier says, thrusting his hand out for Geralt to shake.

Brow furrowed, Geralt takes it. Then he turns Jaskier’s hand palm up and says, “What’s this?”

His thumb is running over the scars Rience left.

“It’s nothing,” Jaskier says.

“It’s something.”

So Jaskier tells him, because he could never really deny Geralt anything. His words are dispassionate, a simple recounting of events, but what he means is, I love you. What he means is, I’d do it again but please don’t make me. Describing the depths of his one-sided devotion, even in such dry terms, leaves him aching and raw, and by the end of it he can’t stop his chin from quivering.

He’s clenched his hand into a white-knuckled fist without realizing it. Slowly, Geralt unbends each finger. He presses a kiss to the middle of Jaskier’s palm and Jaskier’s nostrils flare with the effort of holding in a sob.

“Stop,” Jaskier says.

Geralt stops but doesn’t let go of Jaskier’s hand. He says, “Thank you for keeping Ciri safe.”

“Did a pretty shit job of that in the end, didn’t I?”

Jaskier’s chin is still quivering.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you like that again,” Geralt says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How was I supposed to do that?” Jaskier says helplessly. “Oh hello Geralt, nice seeing you after all this time, I know you hate my guts right now, but by the way, someone tortured me for information about you, just thought you should know, cheers, mate.”

“I don’t hate your guts.”

“Yeah, well you did a pretty good impression of it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not…good at feelings.”

“He’s sorry, he says. And no, you’re not. Good at feelings, that is—oh bloody hell.” 

Geralt has started kissing Jaskier’s fingertips one by one. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs between each one.

 “God, I hate you,” Jaskier says, whimpering. “You just do whatever you bloody want, don’t you?”

Geralt pauses and looks up at Jaskier, eyes troubled.

“Do you not want this?”

“I do,” Jaskier says. “Gods help me, I do, but I  won’t give myself away so cheaply again, witcher. You have to want it, too. You have to really want it, with every poorly articulated feeling in that whole gorgeous body of yours.”

Geralt’s voice is rough. “I do.”

Jaskier cups Geralt’s cheek with his scarred hand and says, “Prove it.”

Geralt kisses him. It’s everything Jaskier has ever wanted and it’s not—quite—enough.

“Prove it,” Jaskier says again, breathing hard, his forehead rocking against Geralt’s. “Prove it,” he whispers, drawing back a fraction as Geralt’s lips chase his.

“I’m trying.”

“Not like that.”

Geralt pulls back far enough to look at him. After a moment of silence, Geralt says, “Come with us. Me and Ciri and Yen. Come with us. Then you can let me prove it every day. I’m tired of missing you.”

Jaskier smiles and finally lets Geralt kiss him again. Melts into it and kisses him back, warm and soft. He feels seen. Wanted. The hurt deep inside him dislodges itself and he thinks, for the first time in a long time, that it's possible to be happy again.

“That’s a good start,” Jaskier says.

[ryujnn]

ﾟ｡ ⋆ ࿐ AKUMA: THE SERIES.

► pairings. f!reader x gojo satoru.

► description. it is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply. gojo satoru prides himself for using his unique abilities to help ones who cannot help themselves… even in ways they cannot see.

“the pain will leave once it’s finish teaching you… so study it.”

▻ genre. angst. mature themes. arranged marriage au. enemies-to-lovers. adventure/action. follows canon universe. // volume 0 + season 1.

▻ warnings. volume 0 manga spoilers. dark themes and nature. degradation (non sexual). heavy violence. blood. minor character deaths. misogynistic themes. mentions of suicide. harassment. smut/sexual themes and nature. mentions of dead children/babies. warnings will be added per chapter.

▻ important. reader is NOT an original character but there will be things described. body type. hair length & eye color is black. this is all due to the plot— you can still imagine race/features however you prefer!l

taglist. visual + character board. recent chapter.

chapter index ﾟ｡ ⋆ ࿐

00 — hear the fallen and lonely. ﹔the founder of the shio clan. the arranged partner. the sick mother & the clan’s refugee.

01 — only love can hurt like this. ﹔10 weeks of preparation until the big day follows 10 reasons why you’d rather die during battle than marry gojo satoru.

02 — i’m gonna be like you. ﹔ weddings can either go completely well or the two getting married can dislike each other, and the bride’s mother dies.

03 — love genetically altered. ﹔ after one simple task is given to y/n, it turns into an absolute nightmare — and a war being declared upon the jujutsu sorcerers in kyoto.

04 — a photograph without a face. ﹔ closing one chapter in your life means opening the next — starting the first few pages off with gin, tonic and your husband.

05 — three clicks and i’m home. ﹔ it took your anxious mind and sixty one days to realize that you were falling in love with the most secretive man in the world.

06 — i’ll count the stars tonight. ﹔ after gojo and the reader tell tales from the past, they begin to grow closer with one another — just not as close as the date for the reader’s fight.

07 — is there any room for me?﹔ the past few days of your life we’re unexpected, yet so much fun. people seem to come a lot in your life… and also leave.

08 — how i fell in love with you.﹔[TBA]

09 — i don’t want to leave (but i have to go).﹔[TBA]

10 — can you hear the bumblebees?.﹔[TBA]

11 — i guess the end is here.﹔[TBA]

12. — don’t you know that i’m right here?.﹔[TBA]

©️RYUJNN: 01/02/2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. do not translate, plagiarize or remake any of my work! reposting my work is allowed — likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated.

[wszczebrzyszynie]

could we learn more about przemek? his design is so cool and he’s always interested me.

(I made a list of specific questions but it’s.. a lot so obviously no pressure to answer them all!)

How has his injury affected his personality?

Why is he in the manor?

Whats his relationship with Mikita like after he realizes he isn’t actually a ghost?

Hows his relationship with his queerness?

What is his and Ryba’s relationship like?

What was growing up like for him?

(Sorry for all the questions I just feel like I see Przemek so much and know so little about him!)

the thing about przemo is that hes definitely a character creation-wise* but in universe hes just... a guy? youd think hed be way more interesting with his design and its just not really true. Hes meant to be unremarkable even if everyone is looking at him in the street. At least he clearly looks like the protagonist...

as with all long oc things everythings under the read more

The thing about the accident is that it didnt change him all that much, really, it just made his general being more... difficult. Przemek (as well as his sister) live by the belief that they need to be useful to their community, and without usefulness they are worthless. Combine that with the freshly abolished feudal system (yes the story takes place in 1890s, but feudalism in russian empire, which took the part of poland the story takes place in was only abolished in 1861, and thats in theory? because in practice the further away from big folwarks you got the later abolishment was taken into account. In Przemeks case, he and his 22 year old brother were the first ones to work in a factory without being forced to work in the countryside) and how important working in a factory was for him to help and provide for his family, and you can see how his self esteem got lower. While his knee pain doesnt make factory work impossible, and Przemek is... way too inconsiderate about himself to acknowledge that he never wants to work in any factory ever again (thinks its a sign of weakness), it is harder and his family would prefer having him somewhere close. So, after being recommended by Ruta Andrushko**, Olehs older sister, he was taken in as the gardener. People at the manor dont really... background check. Its a very specific place

His relationship with Mika can be described as Bad and that is mosty Mikitas fault. Wont go into detail today because we will be here forever and this thing is already unreadable to anyone but me. That being said their one cool moment before he realizes he is not a ghost is when he tries to perform a very butchered version of dziady that Ryba (who is, if you dont know, jewish and blisfully unaware about both christian and semi forgotten slavic customs popularised mostly by a 19th century novel. Wasocz is a 50% jewish town after all) helped with. In the end Przemek got scared and just left him a bowl of groats and eggs before the attic door.

His relationship with Ryba on the other hand is definitely nicer and more friendly, and they later become lovers. I think its worth mentioning that Przemek did not like him in the beginning because of the internalised issues Przemek has with himself, but quickly learned that Ryba is too nice for their own good and being mean Feels Bad. Ryba serves the "anchor" role in the story; it is the only character that i wouldnt consider lonely and who worked his way out of the loneliness. hes very community focused and has a not-directly-loneliness-related story arc to go through, so when it comes to the main theme of the story, he is there to help both Przemek and Nika. On the topic of queerness its one of the many traits Przemo cannot bring himself to even acknowledge. hes very good at ignoring things

*what i mean by that is that hes the most messy character in the story despite being one of the main ones. He is my absolute favourite. Hes literally just a guy. I made him when i was 14 and based his design on an idv character and later on an omori character and you can very clearly see who am i talking about. He was silesian coded when the story was taking place in a different dystopian-royalty world very inspired by an anime i feel like no one besides me ever watched called gosick because it was my favourite when i was 12/13. Hes the most beautiful oc of mine. I still dont know what his ethnicity is and its driving me insane. Mostly polish obviously but i think it would be insane if he had balkan or middle eastern heritage. He is the main character. Thank god im never making dns into a comic **this is Olehs family and their surname is probably written differently in the original story and the modern au. Im using the official ukrainian transliteration here even though im guessing their surname would be written the way its read in polish (Andruszko), as i suppose my ukraine-born great grandmothers surname (Zańko) was polonised down the line. this is not an area i made a lot of research in i am just saying things

also by god i feel rusty when talking about history here so im sorry if the terms arent really correct. it is 3am good night

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - DD - May 15 + 16

That’s right! Another combo post again, definitely because I planned it that way and not because I got busy hehe.

“Once more have I seen the Count go out in his lizard fashion.”

An iconic line, perhaps the best way to start a journal entry ever. The reason we have a Lizard Fashion Day in the first place. Thank you for that, Jonathan. I also appreciate how he tracks his movements down to the measurements. This man is on a mission to make sure he sees what the Count is doing when he can and I love it. It also tells me he’s probably been doing a stakeout to see when Dracula is leaving in order to do his next step…

More castle exploring! That’s right, locked doors will not stop our good friend from checking it out anyway. It’s interesting to note that the locks he finds are “comparatively new” to the hall he originally entered through. Which means that either a) Jonathan is not the first prisoner of this castle (likely) or b) Dracula was very prepared for his visit specifically. While we already kind of knew these scenarios were coming, it adds another layer of messed up to me.

Finally, Jonathan is able to find an unlocked door that seems locked at first because it’s resting on the door and the hinges are a bit broken. Why isn’t it locked? We don’t know, but I’d like to think it’s because Dracula is so self-assured Jonathan won’t try very hard to open this door by the time he gets to it. He wants to break Jonathan’s spirit and in his mind, it’s working splendidly, lizard fashion and all.

Here’s his logic:

Why would he need to lock this door when it feels as good as locked? Jonathan probably won’t have the strength to open it by the time he gets to it and he’ll give up if he tries.

This also plays into the fact that Dracula has been a vampire for a long time…he’s forgotten what it feels like to be human and have regular strength. Who knows if he even remembers how much strength it takes for a human to open a door, or how heavy a door has to be to determine whether it’s locked or not. We know he heavily underestimates Jonathan’s determination and strength, simply because he is a human and those are weak and powerless compared to him (in his mind). I also have another theory but I’ll wait until a bit further in to write it.

It does take Jonathan a good amount of effort to open that door but he does it!! Good for him (well…not really but…). He then takes the time to describe the landscape, so you know he’s in a good mood.

“This was evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the ladies in bygone days the for the furniture had more air of comfort than any I had seen.”

I’m not sure if he means comfort in the way of being used or in the feeling, but I’m going to go with the feelings route, so I can say JONATHAN MY BELOVED!!!! He finds comfort in being around women’s furniture? Why is that? Many reasons probably but my guess? MINA 👏 “THE QUEEN” 👏 MURRAY 👏

He may not say it this time…but I just know….this man is going to kill me with his adorable ways. He does go on to say the room still has lonely vibes and makes him nervous (it is nighttime, after all), but it’s better than a room with Dracula.

Then, Jonathan gets in his ✨imagination era✨ picturing a blushing lady writing while he also writes in his journal. True parallels, since we all know you’re writing to Mina, hehe.

“It is nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere "modernity" cannot kill.”

Another hard line from Harker here. If I’m not mistaken (though I likely am), he’s talking about his diary being in shorthand, and how modern that is compared to the blushing beauty of old. If we go further, perhaps he’s also speaking to his meticulous notes of “all that has happened” on his business trip, vs. the lady that probably wrote very broadly in her letters of love. It speaks to a faster-paced environment Jonathan finds himself in as a solicitor. While shorthand has always been around in some form (yes, I researched this to make a point, hopefully it’s accurate), shorthand towards his time was rapidly becoming the norm in order to capture speeches and increase efficiency; it was a social movement in its own right. So being “nineteenth-century with a vengeance” may sound cool, but I think he’s criticizing how this has turned writing from an art form into something more commercial. While he and Mina have bonded extensively over shorthand and it may very well save his life if he can use it as code…perhaps he longs to be able to write poetry or just be able to slow down and enjoy writing again. This is further proven when he ends it with remarking that ancient practices cannot be killed by the modern. This might be him reassuring himself that there will always be long-form writing (like I’m doing right now :D). Or, if we take it darker, perhaps he’s worrying about his ability to survive with his modern practices against the Count’s ancient “hunter” instincts. Or, perhaps, I’m wrong about all of this and just yapping, it’s unclear!

Anyway, let’s move on to May 16th.

“God preserve my sanity, for to this I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for, that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be sane, then surely it is maddening to think that of all the foul things that lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me; that to him alone I can look for safety, even though this be only whilst I can serve his purpose. Great God! merciful God! Let me be calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed.”

Sooooooo, our good friend Jonathan Harker is not doing too well. You know it’s bad when he cites Dracula as the “least dreadful person in the castle” when he was just describing the Count as a “creature” 4 days ago for his Lizard FashionTM. Plus, he’s referencing Hamlet again!!!

Jonathan decided to sleep in the Lady’s Room despite Dracula’s warning because he does not want to listen!!! Unfortunately I would do the exact same!!! Why are we like this, Jonathan???😭😭

“I determined not to return to-night to the gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here, where, of old, ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were sad for their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars.”

More poetic writing!!! I love it and his critique of war. I why he touches on this here; perhaps he knew someone who went off to war and the repercussions for the family that he left behind? :(

So here’s where Dracula’s 3 Roommates show up (that’s how I’ll refer to them - not brides, BBC Dracula get out of here with that!!!!!). They’re the reason for my other door unlocked theory: perhaps Dracula keeps it that way to allow them some freedom (or, conversely, they figured out how to unlock it and he didn’t check closely enough).

What I noticed on this read was how neutral Jonathan is at first when describing them. It’s not until we get to their lips that we get a “voluptuous” mention (and not the last, either). Also, the lead one looks…familiar to him? I didn’t notice that before, but I saw a post about why (explained in the comments section - Stoker featured her in his prologue/first draft “Dracula’s Guest”. He may have been wanting to include her in this too and scrapped it.)

“There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet Mina's eyes and cause her pain; but it is the truth. They whispered together, and then they all three laughed—such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of water-glasses when played on by a cunning hand.”

So, I think we all know this part isn’t really Jonathan. I mean it is but…spoiler alert: vampires have hypnosis in this canon and they definitely seem to use it here. It doesn’t quite work though because he still follows it up with describing their laugh as “intolerable” and obviously, he’s still scared of them. I do think it’s interesting he writes this confession down, because he doesn’t really have to. Perhaps he thinks it’s important to whatever is going on around here (because I’m sure he knows he would never be tempted to kiss/be kissed by someone other than Mina if it wasn’t by some kind of power). But it’s also interesting that he doesn’t put it that way, either: he doesn’t blame the women for putting thoughts in his head, he describes it as his own thoughts/feelings.

Personally, I think it could be one of those “I think this could be one of those things I think is true but don’t have evidence for and don’t want to write it down until I have the facts” so, until he has the facts, it’s going to be written down as his thoughts. And if he did write it down as them “tempting him with their powers” that just wouldn’t be Jonathan’s character to write something like that. Perhaps in another story from another protagonist, but not this guy. But hey, that’s just me. It could also just be they’re very pretty (which I’m sure they are and Jonathan feels some attraction 🤷‍♀️. The main reason I blame hypnosis is the push and pull Jonathan has with his description of them.

Right before the dreaded/anticipated kiss, here comes Dracula!!!!!! And he has some things to say:

“‘How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me.’”

I am once again bringing this meme back because it gets me EVERY TIME. I know I should talk about the possessiveness of Dracula or how he must have already talked to them previously if he forbade them from even CASTING EYES ON HIM, but I’ll be real every time I see this monologue I just see this meme except it’s just “haha Jonathan you are — BELONGS TO ME.” If that doesn’t indicate broken humor, I’m not sure what does.

Let’s talk about the description of how Dracula looks in this moment though.

“…the blue eyes transformed with fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red with passion. But the Count! Never did I imagine such wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His eyes were positively blazing. The red light in them was lurid, as if the flames of hell-fire blazed behind them. His face was deathly pale, and the lines of it were hard like drawn wires; the thick eyebrows that met over the nose now seemed like a heaving bar of white-hot metal.”

Looks like those “hunter instincts” are kicking in nicely! I wonder why he’s so protective all of a sudden? Especially after telling Jonathan a few short days ago that he would basically be on his own if he disobeyed him. I saw a post the other day talking about how when Mina was compiling everything together, there are entries she could have chosen to exclude from Jonathan’s account due to either repetition or something too traumatic to include.

What could’ve happened in those three days to make Dracula do a 180? Well, we do know they talk every single night, so what could’ve said in that gap between May 12th and May 15th?

My theories are: a) Jonathan didn’t write it down, b) Mina excluded it for a reason, c) it wasn’t one thing, it was a buildup of many interactions over the course of their time together, which lends itself to d) Dracula was straight up lying when he said he’d leave Jonathan to die if he disobeyed him.

I personally think it was c/d because it makes the most sense, but if it was a or b, it’s just interesting to wonder what was said in that time span. Did he make Dracula laugh with a witty comment? Or say something that reminded him of someone else before the Count turned into a vampire? We do know that Jonathan genuinely enjoys spending time with Dracula, so the rapport must be there. And yes, I am probably am reading waaaaaay too much into it, but it is food for thought.

“‘You yourself never loved; you never love!’ On this the other women joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear; it seemed like the pleasure of fiends. Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and said in a soft whisper:—

‘Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?’”

Love, you say? From this vampire? Well, that’s interesting! I do believe Dracula is being sincere when he says this, but the issue is that you don’t want to be the object of Dracula’s love. It’s not like Jon or Mina’s love; it’s possessive, cruel, and demanding. You don’t keep the ones you love a prisoner, and the Count has obviously done that on multiple occasions since he told the women to “tell it from the past”. I feel sad for Dracula because it seems to me like he genuinely finds Jon interesting and wants to keep him around; unfortunately, he expresses this love by trapping him and his other love interests like Pokémon. Perhaps I would feel more sympathetic if he didn’t promise to feed Jon to the girls once he’s done with him!!!!

That’s when Jon realizes there’s a sack with something inside of it that sounds like a child…that Dracula gives to the women…ugh. This is enough to put Jon to fainting.

When he wakes up, Jon is without his clothing, but his diary is still intact.

That is horrifying to me. Why did Dracula need to undress him? I understand it’s to give the illusion that he went to bed, but still. It’s no wonder that Jonathan starts the first paragraph in a wave of panic, even though it’s to display more fear of the women wanting to suck his blood than the Count. I also find it fascinating again how he guesses that the women want to suck his blood when they never made mention of it, perhaps because the lead woman’s breath smelled like blood or because she kept her teeth on his neck? Either way, even in a “dream state” his observation skills are top tier.

I do also wonder why Dracula was originally going to “awaken him to get some work done” and then just…didn’t? Maybe he thought it would be better to just pretend the whole thing was a nightmare for Jonathan. If I was him, I probably would’ve woken him from the couch after he fainted and pretended it was a dream, but hey, that’s my gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss idea of the day and Dracula can’t have it!!!

Overall, this is probably the most telling entry we’ve gotten about Dracula so far. We know that he does indeed “love” (though it’s not a kind or gentle love), those he loves are kept prisoner even once he’s “done” with them (since he says tell it from the past — not the present and the women obviously seemed bitter about his fixation on Jonathan), and while he said he wouldn’t save Jon in a pinch, he did. We’ve seen his first display of fury and how dangerous he can actually be with his supernatural powers and what that can do to the people around him. While no one was injured — yet — it could’ve gone south had the lead woman been human. Even though he probably knew Jonathan was awake for some of this, he still chose to take him back to bed and keep him under the illusion of having slept there peacefully — though some of that was likely for safety reasons. For Jonathan, this was a horribly (and hypnotically horny) traumatic experience for him that makes him realize Dracula is not the only scary thing in this castle.

I also do wish we had gotten more with Dracula’s three roommates because they deserve it!!! They actually seem chill when they’re not trying to — ya know, suck Jon’s blood and all. I also wish we had gotten names!!!! Names would be nice, Stoker.