#just very grateful to have had that kind of life in spite of all the bad bits

[ineffabeatlemindpalace]

born in the 90s forever

[timid-owl]

Don't get me wrong I absolutely adore the jane eyre cherik aus where Erik is Rochester and Charles’s the governess but -

I also love the concept of Mr Xavier, master of the house, some Earl of Viscount or whatnot, hireing a tutor for his wards and getting this angry mean strange gorgeous man without a penny to his name, a raging socialist who like reads Marx and goes to protests and helps assemble explosives for the suffragettes or something, and also has some beef with his lordship Sebastian Shaw, member of the parlament... 

and Charles - who's like the most enviable bachelor to ever bachelor, and a promising young scientist who studded at Oxford and had himself some fancy life going on there, and just got back and for some reason found himself with the house and the land and all these kids to take care of, and is just sweet and constantly overwhelmed - well he sees Erik and goes yep that's my man, come here let me teach you some kindness, and bribe your fine arse out of some shady business, and well i dispise violence but your ratio of nitroglycerin to gunpowder is not ideal, and Engels is much deeper won't you say, and do you maybe want to play some chess. And of course please by all means take all my money to go on your personal vendetta that I will absolutely help accomplish

Including: 

- traditionally, somebody swimming in a lake in a plain shirt, not realising they are being watched

- erik fixing mechanisms - clocks, bells, carriages, music boxes, whatever goes - in the house out of spiteful gratefulness

- erik and the children having to adapt to eachother but getting along brilliantly in the long run. Eric is methodical in his explanations but the children still need some help from charles to show them different facettes of thoughts ans concepts and help them reveal their full potential

- raven going to a sufragette protest with erik and getting slightely hurt, charles getting absolutely mental over it; some discussion about how change is always violent no it isn’t you just have to wait for people to accept it 

- erik getting jealous and possessive during a ball but also generally very sarcastic with the guests 

- charles reading stories in the evenings with voices and all, and maybe even some poetry and is he looking at Erik when he says "What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal"? and Erik's heart just melts 

- erik probably revealing that Shaw has ruined his family or something, and possibly has some evil plan to - whatever, pass a misanthropic bill,  overthrow the government, something something 

- is there a ghost in the house? I mean it might be a symbolical thing in Erik's head or it actually might be charles finding an absolute worst solution to help a mentally unstable (pyromaniac?) girl named jean for instance? Who knows

- some tension in the library? Yes definitely that

[smoshyourheadin]

Can you do smut w Isaac where you guys are home alone in the house and idk getting at it ig🤷‍♀️ and then the rest of the guys get home and are scarred for the rest of their lives???

on our couch

pairing: isaacwhy x f!reader

a/n: FIRST SMUT FIC ALERT NEENOR NEENOR but fr i’m sorry if this sucks lmaooo // 18+ please thank youuuuu <3

warnings: smut!! oral sex, submissive reader, isaac is a meanie, orgasm denial/edging, praise, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it guys!!), general smut things, yumi is a negative nancy

what started as a friendly game of mario kart whilst the boys were out, very quickly devolved into an insult-throwing, competitive game of life and death. had isaac known you were so adept at the game maybe he would have prepared himself, or even suggested a completely different game.

"wow, what a bitch you are," he grumbled monotonously, gone past the point of anger as he watched another green shell appear on his screen and overturn his digital avatar. isaac pinched at the bridge of his nose with an exasperated huff, "this isn't even fun anymore, you're just being an annoying little fuckwit." throwing his controller down out of spite and onto the couch completely abandoning the match, he stood himself up with a groan. hastily pausing the match with an agape mouth, slightly disappointed that he didn't want to play all the way through, "come on, you still have a chance to win," you claimed as you stifled your laughter, trying to entice him to sit back down and be throttled with another shell you had loaded in your arsenal.

"no, i've had enough," the overgrown child retorted before sipping down the remnants of whatever flavour of gamersupps that had been sitting on the coffee table undisturbed for a few hours due to sheer concentration and determination to win a match on his behalf. letting out a displeased grumble, you turned off the game and relaxed back into the couch as he turned to look down at you with an aggravated still expression. "oh stop being such a sore loser," you scolded him with a raised eyebrow. admittedly his immature outbursts over the past few games had become grating as opposed to the amusing back-and-forth jabbing at each other that took place beforehand.

"i'm not being a sore loser, i just don't want to play with someone who is being such a fucking asshole." he stated adamantly, his anger refusing to settle and he refusing to admit that he was wrong, which was usually the case anyway.

"you're just being a whiny little bitch because you didn't get what you wanted," you admitted with a pause, "you just wanted to win so you could rub it in my face." in all honesty, you were really expecting him to retort back with another childish accusatory insult before he stormed off to calm himself down, but his expression remained and he stared vacantly at you as you could almost see the cogs turning inside of his head, and possibly cartoon-like steam expelling from his ears. "is that right?" he asked calmly, though you could still see his eyes burning with annoyance.

gently nodding your head with a simple hum, not knowing what you were getting yourself in for as he had never really had this demeanour before, but you had a feeling it was worth the risk. isaac silently mouthed the word wow, raising his eyebrows and emulating the shock and disapproval you were expecting but realistically he had you hook, line, and sinker. he wanted you to bite back.

hee lowered himself down onto the couch, his gaze shifting from your top to bottom as he took you all in. despite the silence, it was unbelievably tense in the room in the best way possible. the unpredictability of his next move was kind of pulse-raising, yet alluring. overstated, almost as if you were flirting with death.

his fingers ardently dug into the waistband of your pj pants as he tugged them fervently down past your knees, along with your underwear, past your ankles before aimlessly discarding them to the floor. a light shiver consumed your entire body as the cold air hit your bare skin. still, without saying an entire word, he sank himself fully. his large hands grasped eagerly at your thighs, pulling you effortlessly in one motion so you were as close as he needed you to be. isaac’s soft lips pressed against your pulsing clit, and as he did so you could feel his light stubble grazing the inside of your thighs. his tongue was gentle at first, his lips did most of the work. pursing his lips on your clit as he excitedly sucked and occasionally used his teeth to delicately brush against it.

isaac’s fingers would occasionally tighten around your thighs, his fingers and cold rings pressing into your tender skin only indicating his arousal. eventually, his tongue hesitantly caressed your sensitive node, making laps around it before skimming it once more. satisfied hums left your mouth, hands buried in his long brown curls. you could feel him smile as he spurted out his hot breath amused by his actions and how you were now like putty in his hands. he continued to suck and lick as if he was parched and on the brink of death. his eyes would remain shut but he would periodically look up at you to see your flushed face, tightly shut eyes and pursed lips. you were only getting more vocal by the minute as he continued to hit all the right spots before abruptly pulling away without warning. lustfully, he licked his lips and revelled in the contorted expression you attempted to conceal.

"fuck, m’close," you uttered as you attempted to regulate your breathing. isaac nodded proudly with a wicked and playful smile, "yeah i know," he added cockily. his hands caressed your legs and everywhere but where you wanted him to be touching; tingles shooting through every part of your nervous system as his gentle fingertips glided against your skin. "please," you weakly attempted to beg for him which you only knew was going to fail. and you were right.

"no, i’m not going to let you cum," he continued to smile devilishly, "you are however going to be a good little girl and shut up, and take my cock." doe-eyed, you obediently nodded as he began to undress. impatiently, he removed his top half and neglected it just as quickly as he did with your sweatpants. isaac’s erection wasn't concealed very well; the grey sweatpants only amplified its outline and whenever he would move you could see it slightly move beneath the fabric as you now realise he wasn't wearing any underwear. he noticed that you were looking and only wanted to tease you further. grabbing his stiff cock over his shorts, he began to rub it up and down leisurely so you could get a clear visualisation of his entire length.

swiftly pulling down his sweatpants, his erection bounced up and tapped up against his abdomen before bobbing for a short amount of time. using his hand, he caressed his cock again, using his thumb to wipe the pre-cum that was beginning to dribble from his tip. “now come and put your whore mouth to good use,” he demanded, continuing to massage his length.

adjusting yourself with your knees on the floor and his lap in front of you, his cock twitched as you held it up to your face - its span was almost equal the size of your head. looking down at you through his brows, his eyes burned with desire. he couldn’t wait to hear you choking on his cock.

wrapping your lips over the tip, you grabbed his shaft. delicate kisses and timid licks to ease him into it. lowering your mouth onto his hard dick, you let your tongue do most of the work, hands gripping onto his muscular thighs

isaac used one hand to twirl your hair into his grasp and would occasionally push it down to hear you gag on his cock. “what a good little slut, taking it all just like i asked,” he cooed. continuing to let out low and breathy groans, you came up to give your jaw a bit of a break. a string of saliva attached the head of his cock to your pursed and drenched lips.

after giving you a few generous seconds to recompose yourself, isaac pushed your head down onto his cock once more, thrusting his length into your mouth as he facefucked you. the occasional gag would cause him to let out a more satisfied groan. “mmhmm, i just love using your mouth baby,” he lulled, pulling your head back to look at your face. now, his face was more of a crimson tinge than it was prior, his hair sodden with sweat and his intense lustrous stare more piercing than before.

isaac stood himself up and bent you over the arm of the couch, slapping his now very erect cock on your ass. his hands couldn’t get enough of your curves as he squeezed and grasped your hips and waist. “behave and don’t make a noise, otherwise i’m going to stop,” he demanded, “and i know how much you want me inside of you so i suggest you listen,” he continued, peering down at your entrance which was practically dripping at this point. he used one hand to grasp your waist and the other to aid him in guiding himself towards your entrance.

he wasn’t being gentle this time, he drove himself inside of you knowing you were bound to squeal or make any sort of noise but your hand was firmly placed over your mouth which managed to mute most of it, he would give you the benefit of the doubt this time. “you’re such a good little slut letting me use you like a toy,” he murmured, continuing to go deep at a slow pace. he was cupping your ass in his hands as he watched himself slide inside you, cock glistening with your wetness. gaining speed and momentum, he was only making it harder for you to contain your moans.

slipping up as you were getting closer to your climax, you let an audible whimper leave your mouth before isaac tutted and retracted his length from you. “i thought i told you to behave, hmm?” he murmured. a long chain of apologies left your lips before you pleaded and begged for him to let you cum all over his shaft and how much you wanted his cock inside of you.

“now who’s being the whiny little bitch who’s not getting what she wanted hmm?” he amusedly hummed to himself, stroking his cock as he pressed his tip up to your entrance, painfully teasing you. “does my little princess not like being edged?” he softly ribbed in your ear as he leaned over and rested his defined chest on your back, using one hand to snake up your shirt and play with your nipples.

“if you apologise for earlier i’ll reconsider letting you finish, you just have to be a good girl for me,” he offered, his hands groping at your chest before unhurriedly entering you as he couldn’t resist himself.

“m’sorry,” you managed to apologise breathily, “didn’t mean to misbehave,” you feel him squeeze your ass. “please let me cum for you isaac.”

he was now planting delicate kisses all along your neck, “i didn’t hear that baby can you say that again,” he whispered, his hot breath hitting the side of your face before presenting you with more tender kisses. isaac liked being dominant but at the same time he couldn’t keep up the persona because the moment you became a begging little mess, tears staining your face and utterly aching for him, he couldn’t help but cave in. he was a very soft and generous lover and pleasing you turned him on just as much, if not more than dominating you would.

“please,” you were practically whining at this point “i didn’t mean to misbehave, i know better, just fuckin’ fill me with your cock, need it s’bad,” you pleaded with him, eyes shut as you tried to relish the painfully slow strokes. “i know you are princess, i just wanted to hear you say it again,” he smirked, as he began to pick up the pace once more. your pleased moans were music to his ears as he grabbed your waist, thrusting himself as deeply as possible so he could hit your sweet spot, and only within a few minutes were you about to reach your climax again. “mhmm that’s it, cum for me baby, you’ve been a good girl you deserve it,” he affirmed you. tightening around his cock, your body rid itself of all tension and began to slump into the cushions of the couch, all energy drained.

not too long after could you feel him twitch, his grasp on your waist tightened and his momentum and speed erratic as breathy moans escaped his lips. there was a brief pause as you both regained your breath. you were still recovering from the intensity of the orgasm before you joked “you’re more than welcome to lose another game of mario kart whenever you want, holy fuck.”

just then, the front door creaked open. panic set in, but it was too late to re-dress yourself. the sound of voices echoed through the hallway, growing louder as the approached the living room.

the next moments were a blur. shocked gasps, muttered curses, and the sound of footsteps scrambling away filled the room. you and isaac froze, faces burning with embarrassment as the realization of what had just happened sunk in.

for a moment, silence hung in the air, thick and heavy. then, a voice broke through the tension, tinged with a mixture of horror and amusement.

"oh my god, dude! seriously? on our couch?" yumi yelled, covering his eyes.

you quickly grabbed whatever clothing you could find, hastily covering yourselves up as the guys' groans echoed through the house. isaac's face was a deep shade of red, but you couldn't help but giggle despite the situation.

"guess we gave them a show," he murmured, his eyes twinkling with a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

you nodded, still trying to catch you breath. "one they won't forget anytime soon."

as we finished getting dressed, we could hear the guys still talking about what they'd just witnessed, their voices carrying a mix of teasing and genuine shock. you exchanged a look, a silent agreement to never live this down, but also a shared understanding that, despite the embarrassment, it was a moment neither of you would trade for anything.

isaac smiled a bit as he walked you to the downstairs bathroom, hand on the small of your back. “let’s clean you up then princess.”

[vocallywritten]

People who think Lord Debling was the better choice for Penelope are just Portia Featherington alt accounts. Colin wasn't the only one putting up a front this season. Maybe people don't pick up on it as easily because Penelope also has the Whistledown thing going on as a more obvious through line to the overall theme of the season.

But Penelope, from the moment she decides to make herself over and find a husband, is trying to be someone she is not just as much as Colin is.

Penelope is a romantic. She is starved for love in every aspect of her life, especially after her falling out with Eloise.

She says so herself to Debling that she enjoys reading romances because they give her hope for a better life. All Penelope truly wants is love, and that desire is also the greatest source of pain for her because she does not believe she will ever have it. That she is even worthy of it.

So yes, Lord Debling was kind, and even charming. He had money, and a title, and in many ways he was the smartest match Penelope could ever hope to make.

But he did not love her, and explicitly told her that he was unsure he ever could.

Penelope spent the first part of the season talking a big game about finding a smart match. A match that would get her out of her mother's house and also give her the freedom she required to conduct her Whistledown business. Her needs are utilitarian and she believes she cannot be too picky and probably thought herself capable of marrying the first halfway decent man who showed an interest.

Only when she is confronted with the reality of this "ideal match", her first instinct is not to feel pleased with her success. If she had truly wanted to marry Lord Debling, she would not have been so hesitant when he asked her mother's permission. Instead, Penelope tells her mother that she "hasn't told him yes yet." That she is unsure if she WANTS to say yes.

Because when Lord Debling was discussing the possibility of marriage with her, Penelope only had eyes for Colin. And that, dear reader, is because Penelope is still a romantic. She cannot help it. And that is why she is so hesitant about Lord Debling's possible proposal.

Penelope is not the extreme pragmatist her mother is and while her mother sees the title, the money, and above all the security that marrying Debling will bring, she is blind to the truth of the situation. That the life Debling offers would be empty and lonely to a woman who longs for love and connection.

To say that Penelope should have chosen Debling is to fundamentally misunderstand her character. For all that she is ambitious and, yes, even pragmatic in her own way, she is also an idealist. She wants to believe in love, in the possibility of a better future. If she were to accept Debling's proposal, she would end up even more alone than before, even more cut off from the love she so desperately wants.

I have a theory that Penelope was never going to actually accept Debling's proposal after he admitted that he would probably never grow to love her. I think that was the final nail in the coffin for her. I'm pretty sure that the only thing that made her run after him to try to fix things was the fact that she was so annoyed with Colin that she was motivated mostly by spite. And even if she did accept him, I think she would have experienced some pretty severe cold feet very quickly.

Because, again, PENELOPE IS A ROMANTIC. She longs for love and romance. I've seen some people act like Penelope should have accepted Debling because she 1) should have been grateful to be noticed at all (ew) 2) she should have been smart and gone with the "smart match" 3) they hate Colin. These people are just Portia Featherington in disguise, I swear. Not a romantic bone in their body. This show is a ROMANCE not a gritty period drama. Choosing your heart over logic, or over what society tells you to do is a staple of the genre.

[yawarakaizai]

pmzai with an equally miserable s/o fem reader

ⵌ IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM Dazai Osamu (BSD) CONTENTS You sit and stare and wait for him to return to you. You've been bad and you've been good. There's nothing and no one that gives you purpose like he. NOTE reader+dazai are 17/18, implications of s/h, slight misogyny, death of parent, it's kind of angsty.. , soft couple, miserable couple, sui/cide mention+ideation COMPANY I'm Not Human At All

A/N ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ th is wa s har d to make b ecause i h ad sOOO OO m any ide as an d my playli st wa s feelin g good an d kept pla y ing song s th at g ave me diff fic ide as ;; th is is sad ,,, i do nt like sa d fics bu t ,,, this is kin d of a ven t? hehe FEE L FREE TO REQ UEST MOR E!

Your tender heart would care for an injured bunny rescued from a bear trap.

You'd nurse the animal as best you could yet it would always die.

Your father was a hunter. He earned your living costs by selling animal hide and what meat he'd have spare after covering what you'll need. Your mother died when you were a little girl.

You were as sweet as your mother.

Your father would tell stories of how She would gaze out on the winter sky and say to Herself, "My daughter will be as snow. Gentle and graceful, yet freezing to those who demand more of what perfect she is already."

When your Mother died, they put Her in a box full of pink carnations and orchids. Surely to counteract the smell of Her decaying corpse, to display Her flesh as something beautiful before her descent under soil to where Her bones will return and fertilise what surrounds.

Rural life in Japan was not for the weak. Which you were.

You picked up what your Mother left behind.

Tending to the chickens in their coops and shearing the sheep, you'd milk the cows and free the rabbits when Father wasn't looking.

Your hands plush with baby fat would clench around your rosary every night and pray like a good girl.

By the time you reached puberty, your features resembled your Mother more than ever before. Your figure changed and as did your father.

He'd sneer at the dress that fit you perfectly just two years ago. You'd become defiant and bold, a rebellious child.

" Father, but why? "

Your protests and argumentative nature would anger him. And now, you weren't a good girl.

Shouting battles always left you sobbing into thick pillows until your throat hurt.

It was at the age of fifteen did you find out what lies beneath your thin flesh and blue pulse.

You are made of bright crimson and spite.

At sixteen, you ran away.

It was impulsive. You forgot how and what happened. You don't want to remember.

Your calves ached and your feet blistered with pain from trudging up and down hills and farms.

You are a mixture of love and loss.

Everything is a blur, and sometimes you question whether running away was the wisest thing to do.

You had collapsed the moment you stepped foot into the city.

A sad, lost soul who ran away from her father.

You had been a..

" Very bad girl. "

The voice startled you enough for you to spill the batter all over your clean white apron.

" Osamu! " You cried out in disbelief, the boy laughing hysterically. " That isn't funny, knock it off. "

In a way, Dazai reminded you of those bunnies you'd rescue in your youth. He was caught and wounded by the claws of Life. And although you may cup his cheeks into your hands and tell him 'You're alive', he had already died before you were able to cradle him to your chest.

" I told you not to wake up early, Y/N! I should have known to not mention my fondness of crêpes to you. "

You felt untamed, wild hair brush against the bare of your neck before soft lips made contact with your jawline. A soft kiss pressing into what was cold. He was grateful to have you in his sad miserable life.

And even if you two were not perfect for each other, you'd both die to watch the world burn.

" I did it on my own accord. " You lied. " You did not. " He calls your bluff like air. You huff in surrender.

Setting down the metal bowl of paste, you turn to face him. You think of the horrors that his empty, black eye must have seen. His other eye, obscured by bandages, was a mystery to you. You respected him enough to not budge him about it.

" I wished to make you something special. "

You confess, certain he already knew your intention. Your boyfriend was simply smarter than many.

" I don't need anything. Coming home to you is enough, bella. '' His hand stretches to you like death.

Your eyes were not as bright as they were when you were little. They reflected the bad girl that you've become. The one that left her sickly impoverished father in treacherous conditions alone because her feelings were hurt.

" Belladonna. "

He'd pull you back into reality when he'd notice you slipping.

" 'samu. You've barely been coming home anymore, okay? Let me do this, just this once for you. " You snaked your arms around his waist and he mirrored your action, twirling you both out of the kitchen.

Dazai was inexplicable to you. He was a man your father wouldn't like. A man your Mother would hate. A man your younger self would despise.

You willingly moved into a shared apartment with the mafia executive after a few months of living in Yokohama. It was him to have picked you up from the streets. Sensing you were worth more than the muddied appearance you showed at that time.

Your one-time use turned into a second-time use, and your second-time use blossomed like a flower in Spring. You interested him.

You both intoxicated each other. Dazai was able to make you feel light. You felt weightless and as fragile as a butterfly. Weak, small and at his mercy.

" Then don't hide yourself away from the kitchen when I'm right here, love. "

By the time your spinning head focused on what was around you again, he had toppled you both onto the living room couch. He loomed over you, fully dressed in his mafia uniform, his stupid tie obscuring your vision until he tucked it between the buttons of his revere blouse.

" What would you do if I were to die? "

" Osamu. Stop that. "

You muttered.

You feel his life. The warmth of his body, the tender flow of blood heating his body as his finger traced patterns into your cheek. Your heart keeps beating.

" Answer me, Y/N. "

You didn't enjoy thinking of your partners demise. You wouldn't mind if you were to die.

The problem was, you didn't want to be alive for your boyfriends funeral, yet you didn't wish for your boyfriend to be alive for yours.

You loved each other to the point it became hate. Hate for how the other made living seem worth it.

Dazai had an eventful life. You did not.

You had no education whatsoever. According to the government, you did not exist. You had no birth certificate. You were no one. You lived hidden in this cramped apartment.

When Dazai was away, it was only you and your thoughts. Your thoughts were a dangerous thing.

" I think I would kill myself too. "

Your voice caught up on an unexpected crack. You were puzzled until your vision became glassy.

" Pretty baby. I'm sorry. " His apology was belated as you'd already begun to sniffle, he lowered his weight on you, turning to lay on his side as he pulled you in close, coaxing you into silence.

" Don't die, 'samu. Not here, not now. " Your sad little beg mused him.

Dazai was all you had left. You were most certain that if you were to part, you would die.

With Dazai, you were still inadequate. Without Dazai, you truly were nothing but a walking corpse.

He thinks that you are something weak and soft, with a fire raging in you that cried to be extinguished before it could spread.

You hush yourself to enjoy the feeling surrounding you. You feel Dazai's ribcage rise with each steady breath he takes. The beating of a heart is somewhere far deep in, and yours is jumping in your throat.

" Not now. " He repeated after you, and part of you wished to believe it.

There was something mystical about Osamu.

Something that warned you to not feed coal to the flame.

And that if you reached your hand in, you'd burn yourself on what was forbidden.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[seven-seas-of-rhye-bread]

A Fate Worse Than Death- Part 1 of ?

Weee okay I've shirked the responsibility of my big girl job this afternoon to work on something that is kind of a mix of a few ideas that lovely readers suggested. There's a few different ways this could go in my head, so I've got some planning to do (suggestions always welcome...)

There will be more than just Geta in this one, so please, if General Acacius and/or Lucius Verus are your faves, STAY IN LINE.

Warning: None so far...?

Disclaimer: ONCE AGAIN-- I am merely a dreamy, horny bitch-- this is not historically accurate besides what google could tell me in the first couple results. I am here for a juicy, slow burning time, not a historically accurate time.

The cart rattled and swayed down the steep road leading into Rome. It carried 10 prisoners, including Aia, from all across the northern part of the empire. It had been a journey full of sickness and hunger, she had lost count of how long they had been traveling-- a month? 2 months?

She could feel the pit in her stomach grow as the view of the Colosseum, once far off in the distance, was getting closer. What would become of her? Aia tried to imagine each fate that could await her and every one she imagined was worse than the last. 

"oh look at this one!" a dirty Roman man clung to the cart and touched her hair.

She tried to hit him but he jumped down quickly upon seeing her fist pull back. Was this to be her life now? Fending for herself at every turn? She fought back tears for the thousandth time since she had been captured. Rome would never see her cry. 

As they approached the city proper, carts of the caravan fell away, until it was only the prisoner carts left. They had made their way to what she assumed was the slave market. Romans dressed in elaborate togas roamed the market place, inspecting slaves like they were pieces of fruit-- it made Aia sick. 

"Alright! Everyone out!" it was the grating voice of her captor, Titus. 

Aia was herded out into the market and made to stand in a line with others that had made the journey with her. Titus grabbed Aia's arm and dragged her through the maze of stalls to a grand tent that stood on the outskirts of the market.

Titus lifted the tent flap and pushed her in.

A man sat back on a divan, nursing a goblet of wine, "Titus! What have you got for me today?" the man stood up and greeted him.

 " Well, Faunus-- this is Albina, a very pretty thing we picked up in Gaul. She was trying to sabotage food stores at a legion outpost up there. She's a feisty one, put up a good fight before we could subdue her. She's quiet though, you won't get much backtalk from her."

It was true, Aia hadn't spoken a word to Titus or anyone else in the caravan for that matter, since she was captured. 

"Albina! Will I see her beauty and radiance when she's... clean?" Faunus asked, surveying her with an air of disgust. 

Titus laughed, " once she's clean, you'll see why I brought her to you!"

Aia's stomach dropped, what was she destined for in Faunus's grip? Why would she need to be beautiful?

 'Well Titus, you have never let me down yet with the women you bring to me-- do we have ourselves a deal? At our usual rate?"

Faunus and Titus shook hands and roared with laughter, like old friends. What had happened to the other women Titus brought to Faunus? Aia was taken to a thermae and ordered to clean herself up, with the help of an attendant and under the watchful eye of Faunus's henchman. In spite of her worries, she allowed herself to enjoy the hot water, the beautiful smelling soaps and oils that the attendant washed and coated her in. However, it was never lost on her the fact of her situation: she was being prepared for someone.

The question was, for whom?

A painful ache of memory found it's way into Aia's mind-- this preparation-- it reminded her of her wedding night. She pushed the memory of that night, and her beloved husband, Dago, out of her mind.

   As the sun set over Rome, Aia was further prepared by one of Faunus's slaves.

She was a kind looking older woman, who smiled sadly at her. She dressed Aia in a beautiful stola and brushed her hair back into a sweeping style. "

Do you know where I'm going?" Aia whispered to the woman, desperate for any hint of what awaited her.  

The woman answered barely above a whisper, "the palace"

"Please do you know anything more of what awaits me?" Aia pleaded.

"Emperor Geta..." the woman whispered singularly. 

So that was her fate: to be a plaything for one of the twin rulers. Aia felt a numbness seep into her being at the thought. Even in Gaul the cruelty of the emperors was widely known. 

Despair wanted to burrow deep inside her, but as scared as she was, she promised herself then and there that Geta would not break her. No matter what happened, she knew who she was, and not Geta, nor anyone in Rome, would cause her to forget herself. 

The door opened suddenly and swiftly, causing both Aia and the old woman to start. It was Faunus barging in, a sickening smile on his face. 

"Titus was certainly right! You were worth every denari, Geta will be pleased!" he exclaimed to himself. 

He grasped Aia's face roughly and looked her in the eyes, "yes...you'll make him a very happy man, I'm sure..." 

------

The Imperial palace was an intimidating and domineering presence in the darkness of night, and Aia's heart thumped wildly as Faunus's carriage pulled them along the road up Palatine hill.

" You are not to speak unless spoken to-- which shouldn't be a problem, since you seem to be mute!" he chuckled to himself before continuing, " You will obey Emperor Geta's every command in the instant he states them. You must maintain your beauty, of course you'll have other slaves to assist with that... and don't even think about trying to escape-- this is as much a fortress as it is a palace, and you will be caught-- and severely punished."

The carriage came to a halt and Faunus ordered her out, a guard immediately taking tight hold of her arm. Before the carriage pulled away, Faunus raised a finger towards her, "if you somehow displease Emperor Geta and you tarnish my reputation as a trader... I promise you, I will kill you."

And with that, the carriage disappeared into the night. 

The guard escorted Aia to a back entrance into a kitchen and through several hallways. She was in a maze,-- a beautiful, terrifying maze of marble columns, grand mosaic floors and frescoes at every turn. Incense burned in every corner creating an intoxicating haze that made her slightly dizzy.

They rounded a final corner where a sentry stood outside a magnificent set of doors. The guard released his grip on her arm and walked away, without a single word. 

Aia was now on her own. 

The sentry stepped aside and Aia approached the doors, turning the intricate handle of one and pushing it open with great effort. To her surprise and great relief, the vast room was empty.

The sentry pulled the heavy door closed behind her as she stepped further in. She had never in her life been in the presence of such opulence and it overwhelmed her.

A small pond stood front and center and she could catch the glimmer of small fish in the light cast from the oil lamps; the bed, which seemed to loom ominously to Aia, was larger than any she had seen before, the frame cast in bronze and decorated intricately with mother of pearl. She found herself lost in thought, taking her new surroundings when she heard the creaking sound of the door opening. 

Geta walked in with an air of confidence that Aia found immediately off-putting. He smiled when he saw her and rubbed his hands together as if he was about to devour her.

"You.. are beautiful" he stated singularly, surveying her head-to-toe and up again. He had clearly expected a reaction from her, but Aia stood stock still, mostly out of fear, as much as she would hate to admit it. 

He gave her an amused look, " what is your name?" 

Aia again stood still, not saying a word. Geta stepped towards her and she caught the scent of myrrh.

"Your name." his voice had lost it's amused edge and Aia recalled Faunus's warning.

 "Albina" she answered quietly. 

"Albina" he repeated with a smile, satisfied for at least the moment.

He took a seat in a lavish, carved chair by the pond, not taking his eyes off her. 

"And what corner of this glorious empire are you from?" She could feel her fist clench slightly, a movement that Geta caught.

He met her eyes again and smiled cruelly, " what conquered land are you from?"

" Gaul." 

"Ah, a beauty from Gaul. Faunus always knows how to please me," he exclaimed with a clap that reverberated off the impossibly tall ceilings. She winced at the sound, the nausea and nervousness ever mounting in her stomach. 

"Albina... Albina.." he said to himself as if tasting the name.

He sat up very suddenly and smiled at her, "Now, I venture to guess that as a prize caught in Gaul.. your real name isn't Albina, is it?"

Aia said nothing and kept her face neutral. 

"What is your real name then?"

Aia again said nothing.

 " Tell me your real name, now."

She could see a flush of anger rise in his face as he stared her down. 

"Guard!" he shouted in an instant, causing Aia to nearly jump out of her skin.  

The sentry walked in and Geta beckoned him closer till he was whispering in the guard's ear. She could hear nothing but the sound of her heart beating wildly.

Geta dismissed the guard who then took Aia by the arm, leading her hastily out.

Had she sealed her fate?

Tagging @bridgertonbee1814 and @quuinyoung

Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for part 2.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hi, I really like your Spirit Hunter Headcanons! I saw you wrote one for NG with the guys reacting to reader getting hurt. Is it alright if I request a version of that but with the Death Mark characters?

I've got you~ And I'm very happy to see more Death Mark/NG requests <3

・┆✦ʚ Mashita Satoru ɞ✦ ┆・

🚬 One would think Satoru is the most apathetic of the bunch, but in reality, his sense of justice and moral compass are still up there.

🚬 At his core, he will always be a policeman, and any wrong-doing will anger him internally.

🚬 He has lost everything during the Honey Bee Cult case, when his mentor was killed, and he got so close to the truth that he was kicked out of the police force under sexual harassment allegations, and his credibility and job opportunities were denied.

🚬 In spite of all this, he found a friend in Yashiki, and he treasured you more than anything in life.

🚬 You were there for him through all the hardships he went through, and he is infinitely grateful for your endless support and love.

🚬 That is why I say, when he finds out you've been cursed, he is devastated, as though the sky fell on him.

🚬 He found you on the ground in the forest while he and Yashiki were searching around for Shimi-O.

🚬 He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you - He left you at home, why were you here? He couldn't be hallucinating, could he? So what is going on?

🚬 What's worse, not only did the Death Mark flash brightly on the soft neck of your skin, as if to taunt and mock him, but your clothes had subtle tears - But what is worse, they were bleeding.

🚬 He's not one to panic quickly under pressure, but you can bet Mashita is livid.

🚬 If it weren't for Yashiki calming him down and suggesting to get you back home to Mary and have Christie look after you, while the two of them purify the ghost and make sure everyone is fine.

🚬 Satoru held you dearly in his arms all the way back to the Manor, his grip a little too tight - He was afraid, deathly afraid, but not for himself, but for you.

🚬 He'd never forgive himself if he allowed you to die, when your life was in his hands like that.

🚬 What kind of reliable policeman would he be? His mentor would be disappointed if he failed you and himself like that.

🚬 He placed you comfortably on the bed he slept on while Yashiki told Christie not to tell you anything about the Mark; There was no need to worry you for no reason, especially as the scar was in a place you couldn't notice easily.

🚬 Though he knew he had to worry, Mashita lingered for a few minutes more - He couldn't stop looking at you, he felt weak, he blamed himself for dragging you into all of this, especially as the only reason you got cursed was that he forgot his gun at home.

🚬 Not only was it incredibly irresponsible of him, but he also willingly got himself in this mess, in hopes of unveiling the truth behind his mentor's death.

🚬 After tucking you in bed, Satoru kissed your forehead and took one last look at you, before pushing himself off the bed and quickly leaving the room, before he'd feel tempted to just get next to you and hold onto you until Yashiki solves the issue by himself.

🚬 He was much quieter and snarkier with Yashiki, even he was well aware he was much more of a menace than usual, alas there was nothing he could do about it.

🚬 Your well-being was above anything else, for him.

🚬 His rage, complimented by the extreme memory loss caused by Shimi-O, made for quite a weird iteration of Mashita, but regardless, with a simple slap, he was capable of helping Yashiki to purify the ghost.

🚬 Though Kazuo himself wasn't rid of the curse, you and Mashita, along with Shou, were able to return home with no more issue.

🚬 You didn't know why exactly your boyfriend was so clingy and mellow, but you didn't mind it one bit. It was a lovely change of pace, for the otherwise teasy man.

🚬 It would take a few days before he confesses to you the truth of what happened that night - And more than that, he thanks you dearly for compromising your life to bring him the gun, as without it, he and Yashiki wouldn't have been able to defeat the ghost.

🚬 He'd get very annoyed if you got smug with him for being so tender - But he'll get over it fast, don't worry - You just need to bat your pretty lashes at him and kiss him like there's no tomorrow.

🚬 He won't necessarily get overprotective after this encounter, but he will take all proper precautions going further into his and Yashiki's little 'Ghost Hunting Business'.

🚬 He might be reticent to you joining them for field work, but he'd be more than happy if you were to help with intel. You're safe, and he's reassured. Perfect!

---

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Daimon Shuuji ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

🩺 By the time Daimon gets cursed, he's already 44 years of age and chronically single and ill, so he resigns himself to the idea he will remain forever married to his work and succumb to loneliness and sickness.

🩺 When he gets cursed, however, he finds a new will to live - It's the human's natural response to danger, right? Fight or flight - Or at least, that's how he rationalises it.

🩺Not only that though, but also, his morbid curiosity with his grandfather's work in the Engineering Lab during WW2 and whatever atrocities happened down in the bunker hidden in the sewers of the city.

🩺That - And he's always been impressed by the supernatural, and now, he gets to experience it first hand - If only it wasn't life threatening, it would be much more enjoyable.

🩺It was here that Yashiki introduced him to a scientist women called Hiroo Madoka, whose grandfather was also involved in similar work to his own family... Though she's rather annoying to deal with, and thankfully, in spite of his kind demeanour, Yashiki is also of the same idea about her.

🩺But there was one more - He met you - Someone closer in age to him, who's professionally accomplished and so very beautiful; Not only beautiful, but so very and sweet, while also being effortlessly confident and radiating an aura of reassurance like the Sun.

🩺He couldn't help but feel attracted to you like a month to the light, caring little about getting burnt in the process, like the fool Icarus, flying towards the Sun with his waxed wings.

🩺How could he not gravitate around you, when you made him feel revitalised, no more the zombie of a man he accepted to being for so long.

🩺You worried for his health, told him to take better care of himself, even threw an off-comment about cooking him a nice soup and cutting up a fruit salad so he'd get more energy.

🩺Daimon was flabbergast - Did he truly deserve any of this? He knows he's not the most amicable person alive, yet you don't seem to be offended or intimidated by his coldness.

🩺During the whole investigation, you are the reason he stays sane and has hope for the future - A future with you.

🩺You weren't overly assertive, yet through your kindness and positivity, you made your intentions clear; He loved just how well the two of you understood each other, without the need of words.

🩺He was absolutely mesmerised by everything you did.

🩺From the time when you braved through the hypothermia and drove him back home - Only to see that the heating and water were being closed for the week because of reparations - So you invited him to sleep over at your home because it's extra warm.

🩺And how you nonchalantly told him you have a single bedroom, so you'd have to sleep together - All that, while he was suffering a bad case of tachycardia and his face had a feverish colour from too much emotion felt all together - But you? You were so nonchalant about it, wearing your pretty lingerie pyjamas, leaning on the heater and drinking a little alcohol to warm up, and inviting him to do the same.

🩺In those few days he got so used to living with you, that he almost felt disappointed when the day of the encounter came by and you got rid of the curse and had to part ways.

🩺He was there to watch you take the Suzu Bells and step up, confronting the Kannon Soldier all by yourself - He didn't know whatever Shinto or Buddhist mantras you chanted there, but by the time you started yelling at the ghost in Chinese, and ended it by slamming the wand into the side of its head and it disappeared into a splash of brightness, he felt as though he just watched a movie, because everything felt unreal.

🩺For the next two years, the two of you have such a domestic bliss, Daimon feels it's unreal that someone thinks he's not as unsufferable as he thinks he is, and by the way you smile at him so sweetly, he believes you are just as happy as he is, living together.

🩺Though when Yashiki goes ghost-hunting again, both of you are willing to help; Daimon remains in the hospital to care for Hiroo and Banshee, while you go on-site to aid him and Mashita with investigation.

🩺He knew both men would take care of you, and he knew you were strong and witty enough to take care of himself and succeed in this new case;

🩺Alas, when you are brought to the hospital, in full hysterics, Shuuji panics for the first time in his life - What in the world could have shaken you to such degree, that you lost your cool?

🩺After Mashita explains the three of you were blocked in an elevator filling up with a bunch of huge spiders, even he cringes, especially knowing your clear aversion and disgust towards them.

🩺As much as he cares about the two special patients in his care, he's going to take the week off to take care of you.

🩺He'll hold you close and try to reassure you to the best of his ability; Though he's known as not having the best bed-side manners, he's so unexpectedly tender and sweet, that Yashiki thought it was another person altogether.

🩺He'd make you warm honey tea and suggest watching any of your comfort tv series or movies, and he'll kiss your face so gently.

🩺There's not much he can help much to help you relax, except get some sedatives if you're going into panic mode again, but regardless, there's nothing he wouldn't do for you.

🩺When you're finally better, he'll feel so relieved - He was so worried for you and your mental state, that he'll be fussy over you for a long time going on.

---

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ Yashiki Kazuo/Kujo Masamune ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

🐇 It's needless to say, you and Yashiki went through a lot together.

🐇 From the day you got cursed, until you managed to purify the ghost with Yashiki's help, and got all better.

🐇 You decided to stay until the very end to aid your partner with the curse - But if not even the Kannon Soldier cursed him then... Could it have been Mary...?

🐇 Yashiki was protective of all the mark bearers he encountered, you most of all, so when he regained his memory, he made sure to keep everyone at a safe distance so he can deal with Mary himself.

🐇 You were the only one who knew the truth of the Doll, so of course, you worried over his well-being; But he still wouldn't step back and allow you to help him, it was far too dangerous for anyone else.

🐇 So, to reassure you, he promised to take you out on a date by the time he's some with the Doll; And he vowed to also tell you the truth and his memories.

🐇 Thankfully, that evening, you receive a text from Yashiki, with the details of your date the next day, namely the time and place.

🐇 You're so excited and happy that he's alive, that you can't contain your joy, and you call all the mark bearers to tell them that Yashiki is alright and he finally got rid of the curse - And decide to celebrate together, of course!

🐇 What was supposed to be a private date became a private party for the Death Mark survivors - And although he was bewieldered, Yashiki was beyond touched by your act.

🐇 Still, you still had to go on that date - And when you finally did, he told you all about his real identity, as Kujo Masamune, about his sister, about the Doll Mary, and what not.

🐇 And for the next two years, you had a beautiful relationship, with Mashita as the wing-man.

🐇 But when the two of them went to investigate the Masquerade Love Hotel, you got worried; Can't he stay out of trouble, for once? Those two are searching for an early death sentence.

🐇 So of course, from your worry stemmed overprotection, and you insisted in joining them in the investigation.

🐇 Unfortunately, because of your personal relationship with Yashiki, and your spiritual-proneness, you were the first prey of the Jirogumo spirit.

🐇 Not only were you forced to experience first-hand the memories of the poor, tortured girl who was forced to ingest a living spider crawling down her throat with those furry legs, but you felt all of her horrors.

🐇 Once you came to, your mind was in shambles, and you shrieked, running the hell out of that perverted torture den, aimless and confused;

🐇 Thus, you ended up wearing only your pretty lingerie, on a dusty bed, slamming your boyfriend on the bed to seduce him into sleeping with you.

🐇 At first, Yashiki was shocked out of his mind - What the hell happened to possess you like that? You were never this straight-forward, let alone to do something so vulgar and lustful in public; But then, he noticed the spider web sticking to your back.

🐇 As soon as he ripped it away, you fell limp in his arms like a marionette, deep into a coma that he knew wouldn't get away unless the ghost was exorcised.

🐇 He quickly dressed you back in your clothes and called for Mashita to help him get you to Daimon under constant care.

🐇 The whole time, he was out for revenge - Yes, he pitied the poor ghost girl, but he pitied you more; Not only that, but were it not for Mashita, he also would have died, plunging out of the window.

🐇 Who was going to take care of you, if he dies?

🐇 He was going to fight even God himself, if it meant saving you; So there was little a silly little malevolent ghost could do, that would deter him from his path of purifying it.

🐇 Even Mashita hadn't seen him so on-edge and boiling inside from rage for allowing you to get hurt and possessed like that.

🐇 The otherwise moral compass and spine of the group was almost shaking with anger, and it was terrifying.

🐇 He even cursed once! Yashiki - Cursed!

🐇 When the whole charade was finally over, he rushed to the hospital to see how you were doing.

🐇 Thankfully, you didn't remember a single thing of those traumatic encounters, and he wasn't going to tell them to you either.

🐇 He just told you you collapsed suddenly because of low blood sugar, and Daimon gave you some glucose IV and a good rest.

🐇 Though you didn't fully buy it, it was clear he wasn't going to tell you the truth, so you let that be.

🐇 Surprisingly though, he asks if you want to go on a date with him. At home, watching a movie and drinking hot chocolate by the fireplace.

🐇 He's as much of a gentleman as always, or even more so.

🐇 Although he's sometimes awkward when expressing himself, holding you tightly to his chest does wonders in non-verbally telling you how terrified he was for your well-being.

🐇 For his sake, you don't ask about the investigation, just settling to being happy it was over.

🐇 Instead, you decide to promise him that you're not going anywhere - You're a tough cookie, and will always be by his side.

[inkhornism]

EVEN THE CLOUDS ARE IN THE SAME SHAPES AND SPOTS WHEN YOU WAKE UP. They move lazily to the right to uncover the blinding sun stabbing your remaining eye as if to personally spite you for falling asleep in the middle of the field rather than to the side, in the shade. Well, you hate it too just as much so suppose you are even.

It's time to talk to Mira.

The sleepover idea is cute, one last chance for you all to sleep together, share a tender and intimate moment before the final fight and the eventual split. Bonnie is the one who falls asleep first, exhausted from the day's adventures. Mira and Odile follow next, discussing their plans for the next day. Isa curls up on his side of the bed, whispering to you before eventually falling prey to the land of dreams. You usually are the last one to doze off to the sound of the others' snoring, content to know that you have such precious people in your life.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mira reaching out towards you as if to grab your hand in hers in her gratefulness to your agreement. She doesn't, freezing so so close after which she drops the idea, smiles at you and leaves.

( You feel bitter bile rising in your throat. )

Two for the sleepover. Three more to go.

One would ( and has ) assume(d) that with the way you skip over to the Favour Tree first thing, your very life depends on it. ( Thanks, no thanks, Loop. ) You skid to a stop before rounding the corner, pat your coat down, straighten your hat and then inhale and exhale slowly. Isa is just a few steps away, ready to greet you, laugh at your pun and then 'let you do your thing at the Favour Tree'. You'd like for him to stick around longer, for you to put your wishes on fallen leaves together, to sit beneath the tree's crown together and enjoy the quiet until the sun goes down.

❝ SIIIIIIFFFF!!!!! ❞ booming voice cuts through your thoughts and you almost jump a meter in the air at its suddenness.

❝ ISSSSAAAAA!!!!! ❞ you respond in kind, smile so wide it looks like it may split your face in half.

Isa brings his hand down towards your shoulder ( like he always does ), brilliant eyes watching you intently only to stop mere centimeters away from your shoulder ( like he always does ) and then return to his side.

( You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your disappointment. )

Three for the sleepover. Two more to go.

Though it's Bonnie who holds your items, Odile is the one managing them and making sure that you always have what you need on you. She's the one restocking at shops and pointing out different objects that may come in handy later on. You still remember when she showed you the star-shaped trinket you wore for a good while before losing it in that one cave. ( Your disappointment had been immeasurable and your day had been ruined. )

Once more, you see her staring at shelves, counting your money, what you need to buy, how much and if you can afford all of it. It's likely you'll find more stuff in the House, but in the event that you don't, it's been a while since it's been frozen, it's good to be prepared.

❝ We are almost done. Tomorrow we defeat the King and everything will return to normal. ❞ Odile says without looking your way, studying the vial in her hand instead. Once she deems it acceptable, she puts it next to the other supplies. ❝ So chin up, kid. You've done well. ❞

You think she's going to reach for another bottle, but her hand changes course towards your head. Your eyes widen and you begin pulling back, stopping when Odile seems to realize her mistake and takes it back.

( Why are you like this? Pathetic. )

Four for the sleepover. One more to go.

Bonnie not looking at you when you approach them isn't anything new. You wish they'd at least glance at you. Maybe make a noise to signal that they know you're there.

Mira's idea has a better ring and you smile at the way they light up. It's unfair for a child such as them to have to go through everything they've been through. Just one more day and it'll be over.

Though Bonnie makes no move to get closer to you, you can see it in their expression. If they were able, they'd step right up to you and drum their hands on the front of your coat. The frown creasing their forehead is a telltale sign of thoughts brewing in their mind that are looking for a way to manifest into reality. It's just a matter of time.

Ultimately, they return their attention to the animals peacefully grazing before them without another word.

( You almost wish they'd kicked you or something. )

Five for the sleepover. Time to gather at the clocktower.

Sometimes you wonder if you should ask to sleep alone. Still in the same room, but in your own corner. Then you wouldn't yearn so much for Isa's warmth right up against your skin.

What silly thoughts swim in your head, Siffrin.

( YOU FEEL AS IF YOU WERE IN A DREAM. WAKE UP, SIFFRIN, YOU HAVE-- )

It's all routine and you hate how you've come to see your interactions with your friends as something to get through as fast as possible to get the ball rolling.

Mira looks so earnest in her request that you can't help, but feel emboldened by it. Before she can finish talking and unlinking her hands to try to grab yours, you wrap your own around hers.

It's clear that neither of you expected such an action and she looks like she wants to question you about it, maybe even apologize even though you acted of your own volition.

You never believed in any kind of gods and especially not those of this world, but you close your eye and breathe slowly nevertheless. You feel her following your breathing and allow yourself a small twitch of the lips.

Isa's hand comes down towards your shoulder again. You know your action window is extremely small so the moment it hovers in the air, you snatch it with your own and settle it on your shoulder.

You shiver upon contact and then go completely still. Your skin crawls and you can feel the tension in his hand between letting it sit there and pulling away. He's always been so careful with you, it's heartbreaking.

At last, you smile. And laugh. Stars, you feel like you could melt right through the ground.

Odile isn't exactly affectionate, no, but on occasion, you've seen her ruffle Bonnie's hair. She always makes sure that none of you can see her do so, but you all know.

You're not exactly sure where she intends to put her hand on your head, your wizard hat makes the whole thing a bit awkward. Then again, she's tall enough to reach over you so maybe that's the plan here as well.

You seize your chance by thrusting your head against her hand just as she's reaching out to you and the force and suddenness make the contact feel like something hit you over the head gently. Surprise displays clearly on her face behind her glasses, stiff fingers pressing lightly on the hat.

You nyaa with a snicker, hoping she doesn't catch the way you lean even more into her hand.

Bonnie still looks at you as if wishing violence on you. Or, at least, that's what the intense glare they give you looks like. Unfortunately for both of you, you can't quite kick yourself. Maybe if the universe implodes and two of you meet in a loop. Though by then, you'd have much bigger problems.

This is a conundrum as they don't even want to look at you, much less touch you. You can injure yourself for comedic effect, but you doubt that would make them laugh. Never mind touching you.

Well, nothing to lose. You walk over to them and when they look at you -- you flick their forehead. The look in their eyes changes from annoyance to a startled one before they reach out to flick you ( in the cheek ) in retaliation before they can think better of it.

The flicker of pain that shoots through your face makes your eye widen. Bonnie's mind seems to catch up with what just happened too because they look like they might start crying.

Oh. Oh no. That's not what you wanted.

You massage your cheek and wink at them. ❝ What a cheeky stunt! ❞ and laugh to which they stick their tongue out at you.

Everybody is already asleep and you aren't far from dozing off yourself. Isa's sleeping face stares at you in the darkness, his hand balled against his chest. You will blame drowsiness in the morning, but for now, you gently tug it free and intertwine your fingers together before finally closing your eye as well.

What silly thoughts swim in your head, Siffrin.

[nvmadic]

SORE LOSER - SCHLATT

prompt: after losing a game of mario kart, schlatt wants to teach the reader a lesson. words: 2,223 warnings: explicit content / 18+ notes: f!reader

What started as a friendly game of Mario Kart, very quickly devolved into an insult-throwing, competitive game of life and death. Had Schlatt known you were so adept at the game maybe he would have prepared himself, or even suggested a completely different game.

"Wow, what a fucking bitch you are," He grumbled monotonously, gone past the point of anger as he watched another green shell appear on his screen and overturn his digital avatar. Schlatt pinched at the bridge of his nose with an exasperated huff, "this isn't even fun anymore, you're just being an annoying little fuckwit." Throwing his controller down out of spite and onto the couch completely abandoning the match, he stood himself up with a groan. Hastily pausing the match with an agape mouth, slightly disappointed that he didn't want to play all the way through, "come on, you still have a chance to win," you claimed as you stifled your laughter, trying to entice him to sit back down and be throttled with another shell you had loaded in your arsenal.

"No, I've had enough," The overgrown child retorted before sipping down the remnants of water that had been sitting on the coffee table undisturbed for a few hours due to sheer concentration and determination to win a match on his behalf. Letting out a displeased grumble, you turned off the game and relaxed back into the couch as he turned to look down at you with an aggravated still expression. "Oh stop being such a sore loser," you lambasted him with a raised eyebrow. Admittedly his immature outbursts over the past few games had become grating as opposed to the amusing back-and-forth jabbing at each other that took place beforehand.

"I'm not being a sore loser, I just don't want to play with someone who is being such a fuckin' asshole." He stated adamantly, his anger refusing to settle and he refusing to admit that he was wrong, which was usually the case anyway.

"You're just being a whiny little bitch because you didn't get what you wanted," you admitted with a pause, "you just wanted to win so you could rub it in my face." In all honesty, you were really expecting him to retort back with another childish accusatory insult before he stormed off to calm himself down, but his expression remained and he stared vacantly at you as you could almost see the cogs turning inside of his head, and possibly cartoon-like steam expelling from his ears. "Is that right?" He asked with equanimity, though you could still see his brown eyes burning with annoyance.

Unhurriedly nodding your head with a simple hum, not knowing what you were getting yourself in for as he had never really had this demeanour before, but you had a feeling it was worth the risk. Schlatt silently mouthed the word wow , raising his eyebrows and emulating the shock and disapproval you were expecting but realistically he had you hook, line, and sinker. He wanted you to bite back.

He lowered himself down onto the couch, his gaze shifting from your top to bottom as he took you all in. Despite the silence, it was unbelievably tense in the room in the best way possible. The unpredictability of his next move was kind of pulse-raising, yet alluring. Overstated, almost as if you were flirting with death.

His fingers ardently dug into the waistband of your sweatpants as he tugged them fervently down past your knees, along with your underwear, past your ankles before aimlessly discarding them to the floor. A light shiver consumes your entire body as the cold air hit your bare skin. Still, without saying an entire word, he sank himself fully. His large hands grasped eagerly at your thighs, pulling you effortlessly in one motion so you were as close as he needed you to be. Schlatt's soft lips pressed against your pulsing clit, and as he did so you could feel his facial hair grazing the inside of your thighs. His tongue was timorous at first, his lips did most of the work. Pursing his lips on your clit as he excitedly sucked and occasionally used his teeth to delicately brush against it.

Schlatt's fingers would occasionally tighten around your thighs, his fingers pressing into your tender skin only indicating his arousal. Eventually, his tongue hesitantly caressed your sensitive node, making laps around it before skimming it once more. Satisfied hums left your mouth, hands buried in his long brown curls. You could feel him smile as he spurted out his hot breath amused by his actions and how you were now like putty in his hands. He continued to suck and lick as if he was parched and on the brink of death. His eyes would remain shut but he would periodically look up at you to see your flushed face, tightly shut eyes and pursed lips. You were only getting more vocal by the minute as he continued to hit all the right spots before abruptly pulling away without warning. Lustfully, he licked his lips and revelled in the contorted expression you attempted to conceal.

"I'm really close," you uttered as you attempted to regulate your breathing. Schlatt nodded proudly with a wicked and playful smile, "yeah I know," he added cockily. His hands caressed your legs and everywhere but where you wanted him to be touching; tingles shooting through every part of your nervous system as his gentle fingertips glided against your skin. "Please," you weakly attempted to beg for him which you only knew was going to fail. And you were right.

"No, I'm not going to let you cum," he continued to smile devilishly, "you are however going to be a good little girl and shut up, and take my cock." Doe-eyed, you obediently nodded as he began to undress. Impatiently, he removed his top half and neglected it just as quickly as he did with your sweatpants. Schlatt's erection wasn't concealed very well; the grey cotton shorts only amplified its outline and whenever he would move you could see it slightly bounce beneath the fabric as you now realise he wasn't wearing any underwear. He noticed that you were looking and only wanted to tease you further. Grabbing his stiff cock over his shorts, he began to rub it up and down leisurely so you could get a clear visualisation of his entire length.

Swiftly pulling down his shorts, his erection bounced up and tapped up against his abdomen before bobbing for a short amount of time. Using his hand, he caressed his cock again, using his thumb to wipe the pre-cum that was beginning to dribble from his tip. “Now come and put your whore mouth to good use,” he demanded, continuing to massage his length.

Adjusting yourself with your knees on the floor and his lap in front of you, his cock twitched as you held it up to your face - its span was almost equal the size of your head. Looking down at you through his brows, his eyes burned with desire. He couldn’t wait to hear you choking on his cock.

Pursing your lips over the tip, you grabbed his shaft. Delicate kisses and timid licks to ease him into it. Your supple lips found their way to his balls, caressing them with your fingers and cupping them before gingerly sucking on his balls and boy did this drive him crazy. Schlatt’s head flung back out of pure pleasure and gagged on the pleasurable groan that tried to escape his throat. Lowering your mouth onto his hard shaft, you let your tongue do most of the work but still utilised both of your hands: one on his cock and the other caressing his balls.

Schlatt used one hand to twirl your hair into his grasp and would occasionally push it down to hear you gag on his cock. Going so far down you could feel his trimmed pubes tickle your nose as he shoved your head down. “What a good little slut, taking it all just like I asked,” he crooned. Continuing to let out low and breathy groans as you massaged his balls, you came up to give your jaw a bit of a break. A string of saliva attached the head of his cock to your pursed and drenched lips.

After giving you a few generous seconds to recompose yourself, Schlatt pushed your head down onto his cock once more, thrusting his length into your mouth as he facefucked you. The occasional gag would cause him to let out a more satisfied groan, the momentary tapping of his balls on your chin as he forced himself inside of you. “Mmhmm, I just love using your mouth,” he lulled, pulling your head back to look at your face. Now, his face was more of a crimson tinge than it was prior, his hair sodden with sweat and his intense lustrous stare more piercing than before.

Schlatt stood himself up and bent you over the arm of the couch, slapping his now very erect cock on your ass. His hands couldn’t get enough of your curves as he squeezed and grasped your hips and waist. “Behave and don’t make a noise, otherwise I’m going to stop,” he demanded, “and I know how much you want me inside of you so I suggest you listen,” he continued, peering down at your entrance which was practically dripping at this point. He used one hand to grasp your waist and the other to aid him in guiding himself towards your entrance.

He wasn’t being gentle this time, he drove himself inside of you knowing you were bound to squeal or make any sort of noise but your hand was firmly placed over your mouth which managed to mute most of it, he would give you the benefit of the doubt this time. “You’re such a good little slut letting me use you like a toy,” he murmured, continuing to go deep at a slow pace. He was cupping your ass in his hands as he watched himself slide inside you, his cock glistening with your wetness. Gaining speed and momentum, he was only making it harder for you to contain your moans.

Slipping up as you were getting closer to your climax, you let an audible whimper leave your mouth before Schlatt tutted and retracted his length from you. “I thought I told you to behave, hmm?” He murmured. A long chain of apologies left your lips before you pleaded and begged for him to let you cum all over his shaft and how much you wanted his cock inside of you.

“Now who’s being the whiny little bitch who’s not getting what she wanted hmm?” He amusedly hummed to himself, stroking his cock as he pressed his tip up to your entrance, painfully teasing you. “Does my little princess not like being edged?” He softly ribbed in your ear as he leaned over and rested his chest on your back, using one hand to snake up your shirt and play with your nipples.

“If you apologise for earlier I’ll reconsider letting you finish, you just have to be a good girl for me,” he offered, his hands groping at your chest before unhurriedly entering you as he couldn’t resist himself.

“I- I’m sorry,” you managed to apologise breathily, “I didn’t mean to misbehave please let me cum for you.”

He was now planting delicate kisses all along your neck, “I didn’t hear that baby can you say that again,” he whispered, his hot breath hitting the side of your face before presenting you with more tender kisses. Schlatt liked being dominant but at the same time he couldn’t keep up the persona because the moment you became a begging little mess, tears staining your face and utterly aching for him, he couldn’t help but cave in. He was a very soft and generous lover and pleasing you turned him on just as much, if not more than dominating you would.

“Please,” you were practically whining at this point “I didn’t mean to misbehave I know better, just fuckin’ fill me with your cock I need it,” you pleaded with him, eyes shut as you tried to relish the painfully slow strokes. “I know you are princess, I just wanted to hear you say it again,” he smirked, as he began to pick up the pace once more. Your pleased moans were music to his ears as he grabbed your waist, thrusting himself as deeply as possible so he could hit your sweet spot, and only within a few minutes were you about to reach your climax again. “Mhmm that’s it, cum for me baby, you’ve been a good girl you deserve it,” he affirmed you. Tightening around his cock, your body rid itself of all tension and began to slump into the cushions of the couch, all energy drained.

Not too long after could you feel him twitch, his grasp on your waist tightened and his momentum and speed erratic as breathy moans escaped his lips. There was a brief pause as you both regained your breath. You were still recovering from the intensity of the orgasm before you joked “you’re more than welcome to lose another game of Mario Kart whenever you want, holy fuck.”

link to the rest of my work [x]

[apathetic-pixel-42]

hey, i just came across your blog, and i’m so happy to see someone writing about shaman king! i’d like to request a headcanon about first meeting the shaman king boys. thank you so much and keep up the good work <3

Hello!! Thank you for the request!! This is my first ever one, so I hope this meets your standards!! <333

Shaman King Boys React to Meeting Reader For The First Time ✨

Includes: Yoh, Hororhoro, Ren, Lyserg, Chocolove, and Hao

Yoh:

Based on the situation, I believe his reaction would be different.

If you met him during the beginning shaman fights or during the tournament, I think he'd been in awe at your abilities.

No matter how strange your shamanic abilities may seem, so long as your not actively trying to murder anyone, he'd except you no matter what.

Even if him and Anna weren't engaged, you'd probably still face a lot of skepticism from her. She'd obviously be wary of you, but you two would probably grow close after a while.

Obviously, he wouldn't fall head over heels immediately. To me, Yoh is someone who would need to see different sides of you before ever trusting you fully.

Once the two of you were close, he'd absolutely be more open to hanging out one on one and getting to know you better.

Now, if you were to have met him during school or childhood, things would probably be different.

As a child, I think he'd be a lot more eager to hang out with you. After all, he didn't have any friends and only hung out with Tamao and his family.

He'd probably be more willing to approach you and develop a genuine friendship with you.

Despite how hectic his situation is, he'd definitely appreciate having you by his side.

Overall, he'd be eager to get to know you and develop a genuine bond with you.

Horohoro:

Now, for Horohoro, his reaction to meeting you would depend on a lot of factors.

Unlike Yoh, Horohoro is not the most accepting. If anything about you seems suspicious to him, he would definitely be cold to you initially.

He'd especially be cold to you if you're on Hao's team. Unlike Yoh, who would probably try to look past this and give you a chance, Horohoro would immediately be hostile towards you.

Another factor you'd have to consider is your personality. For example, if your personality was somewhat similar to Ren's, he'd totally be iffy around you.

On the other hand, if your personality was like Yoh's or Lady Jane's, he'd probably be more open to letting you hang out with him.

Once he was comfortable around you, I think he'd actually try to make some kind of effort to get to know you.

Of course, he'd be kind of awkward and standoffish, but it gets better the more time passes.

Now, if you two met as kids, it'd be a lot more difficult to get to know him.

Similar to his relationship with Kororo, he'd attempt to push you away in the beginning. He wouldn't want you to get close to him, so it'd take a lot of time and persistence to get through to him.

Unfortunately, you'd have to deal with his self conscious and spiteful episodes. It would be difficult and sometimes he'd say things he didn't mean, but he'd always try to make it up to you.

Overall, he's another person who'd be super grateful to have you around and would wholeheartedly cherish having you in his life.

Ren:

Ren is one of the people whose relationship with you would depend on when exactly you met him, but let's say you met him after he matured and stopped killing.

Even at this point, I think Ren would still be a bit hostile right out the bat.

Unless he met you through Yoh or someone in the group, he'd have no respect for you.

Of course, it would be different if he considered you a formidable opponent. He'd probably have a decent amount of respect for you and your fighting style, but I still doubt that he'd get close to you.

Assuming you two had never met before, it would take a VERY long time for him to trust and get comfortable with you.

However, it would be different if he met you in the past.

Let's say that you met him through his sister or something like that, since I doubt that his dad would take kindly to your presence otherwise.

Although younger and not exactly mature, I feel like it'd be a lot easier to build a relationship.

Yes, the relationship might not exactly be the healthiest, but I think he'd put up with you if you obey him.

Honestly, it's just far more preferable to meet him later on. I think this is because even if you guys were childhood friends, who's to say he (or maybe his dad?) wouldn't outright kill you over some kind of mistake?

In summary, I think he'd actually be a loyal friend...just not as a child. If you're willing to put in the work to get to know him and spend time with him, he'd remember and cherish it.

Lyserg:

Lyserg is another one of the boys where it would kinda depend on when you met him.

Let's say you met him before he joined the X-Laws. I think he'd definitely be a lot more open minded about meeting you.

He wouldn't judge you, unless you were openly/actively associating with Hao.

It'd be a lot easier to get along with him, plus I think he'd be more open about letting you get close to him.

Now, let's say you met him around the time when he first joined X-Laws.

At the height of Lyserg being sucked up in his mission of getting revenge, he'd definitely be a lot more of a challenge.

I also think that he may attempt to drop you as a friend, if you two were friends beforehand. Unless you persist on being by his side, he'd try to push you away.

Even if he did want to stay close to you, you'd have to go through Marco and all the other X-Laws.

I do think that he'd be a sweet guy in the beginning, but it really does depend on the timing. I personally didn't like Lyserg when he first joined X-Laws, but it definitely got better as the show went on.

Even though he had his rough patches, he'd still be polite and sweet towards you.

Overall, a great guy to meet, but it depends on what point you meet him.

Chocolove:

Joco, to me, would be the easiest to get along with.

He's very openminded and accepting, especially given his past. He wouldn't judge you for any of your faults and could potentially relate to you.

Now, if you were one of Hao's goons, he'd definitely be more on edge. However, if you're not outwardly hostile or anything, he'd possibly be willing to give you a chance.

Besides Yoh, he'd be one of the friendliest ones out of the group.

He's incredibly understanding, but he's also someone who seems eager to make friends and connections.

Of course, he'd probably be wary of you given the circumstances of the tournament, but he'd still be super fun and engaging.

I feel like you'd most likely meet him through a fight or by laughing at one of his jokes.

After a few conversations, I think he'd enjoy hanging out with you. Of course, you wouldn't get anything serious or deep out of him, but he would definitely be sweet.

Even when he becomes blind, I don't think that would affect how he would treat you.

Overall, his energy and easy going personality would make it pretty easy to get to know him. Given that his beliefs are based on rehabilitation and acceptance, he'd be more willing to give you a chance compared to the others.

10/10 friend and would probably be your best bet besides Yoh.

Hao:

Easily the worst one to meet if he didn't like you.

Assuming that you were at least associated with Yoh's group and unknown to him, he'd be interested as to who you were.

You'd have to be super careful with your thoughts around him, but he'd also be interested in the kind of mindset/opinions you have.

Even if you stayed away from him, it'd only make him more curious. He'd pop up spontaneously, which is probably how you two met in the first place.

Now, let's say you were one of his minions. Whatever situation you were in before doesn't matter to him, he'd still approach you out of curiosity.

Originally, he would just manipulate you to get you to join. Even if you did resist him at first, it's honestly inevitable.

At first, he'd pay minimal attention to you. However, after a while with you hanging around, he'd slowly grow closer to you.

Of course, it'd be incredibly discreet. He can't let the others know that he has favorites or any sort of weaknesses.

He'd meet you secretly in both scenarios, unless he wants to mess with Yoh's group. You're interesting to him, no matter if he can read your thoughts or not.

Overall, he's entertaining if he likes you. He'll let you hang around him as much as you want, just make sure not to bring awareness to anything... suspicious.

Just be careful not to piss him off, because he really doesn't want to waste his mana on consuming your soul.

[tapwater118]

The Post-Split Rant, part 3

a.k.a.: Grown Woman really should have finished this like 3 weeks ago give me a break

Part 1 | Part 2

yes i did just section the parts out like this just for the visual gag shut up

BFB Post-Split is my least favorite season, so now I’m gonna wrap up my whinging about it and move on with my life. These are my opinions, you’re free to disagree, bluh bluh bluh let’s just get on with it already.

BFB 28

Okay, I said I would talk about the eliminated contestants here, but I remember them doing more in this episode than they actually did for some reason. I guess I’ll get to them in BFB 29 I suppose.

Anyway the Announcer is back! Announcer’s actually my favorite host out of all the seasons (sorry Four), so when I watched this the first time I remember being really stoked to see him again. And I am glad to say they did him very nicely! He still has his slightly snarky demeanor (in spite of his monotone TTS voice), and is overall used in a very interesting way here. I’ll get more into it later, but it is very clear they didn’t just bring him back for nostalgia points, which I appreciate.

For an “all-in-one” challenge, this episode did it a lot better than BFDI 23, dare I say. Instead of spending a bit too long on the first few challenges and speeding by the rest, they spend time just on the challenges that they can get good bits out of and briskly walk past the others. I feel this approach works a lot better than BFDI 23.

Honestly, pretty nice episode. No real issues here. Not as good as BFB 20 or 26 I’d say, but a good deal better than BFB 22. Moving on.

BFB 29

They said it was impossible. They said it couldn’t be done. Post-Split actually has a second good Taco and Blocky interaction. They’re having an actual conversation! With witty banter and such!What is this wizardry? Why couldn’t we have more like this?

Not related to anything else really but I have to get this out. I find the over abundance of nicknames in Post-Split to be kind of grating at times but NOTHING grinds my gears as much as the stupid “blank”-ster nicknames. “Tacster” “Blockster” “Teadster” SHUT UUUUUUUPPPPPP. They’re just fine in isolation but they use them SO FREQUENTLY I HATE IT. Gelatin uses these the most and I honestly think it’s lessened my opinion of him to a non-negligible degree. Leafster is the only one that gets a past the rest suck so much shit.

Ok sub-rant over. Back on topic.

The whole, well not really backstory… interstory(?) they give Announcer here is very neat, I like it. Really adds a lot of depth to his character. Whoa, Post-Split just had compelling character development. I think I need to sit down. I guess I’ll also add here that it’s nice Taco has something to do other than whinge at Blocky. I mean, there’s a handful of other characters just kinda sitting around that they could also have investigating the Announcer, but I feel Taco fits this role the best (out of the characters available to do so).

The quality-downgrading bit near the end is also fun too- okay enough beating around the bush. I’ll talk about it here because I already have enough to say about BFB 30 on its own; they pretty obviously set Flower up to win. Having her be repeatedly ignored and tortured for those sympathy points, and then having her be the one to save the show to cap it all off.

I voted for Flower to win, and even if they didn’t set her up like this I still would have. She’s one of the few characters in all of BFDI that actually has a serious degree of character-growth throughout the series, from being the prototypical “mean for the sake of it” character in season 1 to having genuine compassion for those she cares about by the end of BFB. Gelatin doesn’t have any of this, and if I can be candid, I have no clue how he got so far in the season.

BFB 29 is good overall, but let’s not dwell on it any longer. The real meat and potatoes of this part of the rant is going to deal with the final episode, one I have so many thoughts on I have to split it into multiple segments. Let’s talk about BFB 30.

Smaller Thoughts on BFB 30

The scenes with the fake seasons add a lot to Four’s character, and are a nice lead in to the fact that he’s actually a huge BFDI fan who really just wanted to be in that show he really loves. Judging by his actions in the early days of BFB it’s obvious this was a rather late addition to his character, but his cruelty to the objects could likely be interpreted as just a culture difference between Algebraliens and objects. I could make a whole separate analysis about this, but right now I’ll just leave it that these aspects of Four’s character are rather interesting.

This is going to be really nitpicky, but I have no clue why Bubble would want Gelatin to win. He’s been nothing but horrible to her the entirety of Post-Split. Maybe you could say the same for Flower’s behavior towards her both here and in season 1, but in that case have her indecisive over her vote, not overly enthusiastic. This choice makes no sense. (Can you tell that Bubble is one of those characters I care way too much over how they’re written?)

Gotta say, very nice how they have Firey reflecting on his actions without outside prompting here, good sign of character development. Now if only they could have had him say something to this effect eight episodes ago… sigh…

From here the episode splits into two plots that it jumps between repeatedly. Going through every scene in the order they happen would start to get confusing, so I’ve given them their own sections. Gonna be honest, not really a fan of how either of these went. Let’s start with the better of the two.

Flower and the Battle for the BFDI

So, Flower and the Announcer start fighting over who should get the BFDI, and Purple Face comes out of nowhere to steal it for himself. They get in the bus, a bunch of other people give some silly reasons why they should have the BFDI, and then the bus is dangling off a cliff. Everyone hops out except those still fighting over the BFDI: Flower, the Announcer, and Purple Face.

Purple Face does not need to be here.

Flower wants the BFDI because she won, it’s her rightful prize, very valid. Announcer wants the BFDI because it’s his life’s work and, as he reveals here, the only remaining copy of that work, very valid.

Purple Face wants the BFDI just because he thinks he deserves it. His reason for wanting it is just as stupid as all the reasons the other characters (who aren’t Flower or the Announcer) gave for wanting it, and those were all treated as jokes. Hell, Firey (and by extension Leafy) DEFINITELY had a better reason for wanting the damn thing.

Why are we supposed to be taking this seriously? Purple Face has been nothing but a joke character the entire season, and now they suddenly want people to feel bad for him. So much of this scene is dedicated to him over Flower and the Announcer, the two this scene should have been focused on.

Time to get to the much weaker of the two plots.

Gelatin Helps Four Find Out His Value

Okay, I’m about to be way too overly negative, so let’s have something positive for a breather. “Choo Choo! Think again, Balloon Buddy!” is one of the best jokes in the entire series. I will not elaborate.

So, Four starts to run away, and all the characters who didn’t go after Purple Face (except Profily) chase after him. After a bit, they all end up on the sun, and a character gives a speech about how they’re all mad at Four, how he’s hurt them and been mean to them throughout the entire season, and he still expects them to all stick around for him?

Pretty nice speech, I wonder which character gives it?

Maybe Bubble? She’s constantly going under ire and has had to take a lot of shit this season.

Or maybe Flower! Maybe she could reflect on when she was a bad person, and how she turned around to better herself, and try to impart the things she learned onto Four.

Perhaps X! They’re Four’s best friend, and have certainly been hurt by him throughout this season. Maybe he could show Four sympathy for the objects? This is probably the best option, because of how close these characters are.

But no, none of these characters make this speech.

Gelatin makes this speech.

Gelatin.

Motherfucking Gelatin.

MOTHERFUCKING. FORK-FLINGING. PEOPLE-PUSHING. BOMBY-EXPLODING. GELATIN.

Gelatin is the last character who should be giving a speech about how being mean to people is bad. HE IS A GODDAMN MENACE! HAVING HIM SAY THIS MAKES HIM INTO A GIANT HYPOCRITE!

And then they play a montage on the BFB to show how fun this season actually was, and convince Four that they all really do like him. Am I the only one that thinks Four got off a little scot-free for the whole murdering and tormenting his contestants thing?

Whatever, let’s take a look at the supposedly “fun” moments of BFB that they want to give Four credit for:

Flower getting excited for like a second that she didn’t get eliminated, before running off in embarrassment because she tried to celebrate with the contestant who actually did get eliminated

A scene mere moments before Four despawns X again

A bunch of people playing with the popper toys, something that had no involvement from Four and likely would have happened regardless of his presence

A scene mere moments before Leafy painfully burns to death

Gelatin’s fork stack, which definitely didn’t involve Four because it happened before they showed up

The boring-ass train ride from BFB 21

Four’s almost-four-way-tie song, which I guess gets a pass

Aside from the last one maybe, how is ANY of this meant so show how much fun the cast has had with Four? And to top it all off the most unfitting piano music plays over the whole thing. Absolute dumpster fire of a montage.

Ending Thoughts on BFB 30

Everyone gets together to have a party and all is well in the world. Except for those 50000 dead Davids in Davidland. A shame, really. (that was a joke)

Wow, this best friends line sure aged well, didn’t it, Teardrop? (Actually thinking about it now they probably planned for Teardrop to join TPOT by this point. So why include this line when they already knew one of his best friends ditched him?)

This line is really corny. But also kinda charming? Weird. I guess all she really wanted in the end was friends, and now she has them! Good for her.

And you know, if I ignore how much I dislike how Post-Split reconciled Firey and Leafy, this scene is really cute. Very nice note to end on.

For the episode, that is. We still have stuff to talk about here.

So, about BFB 30 as a whole. Do I think it’s a good BFDI episode? Yeah, I guess. I have my problems with it (as I have more than made clear), but it still has a lot of laughs, and things conclude in a halfway decent way. So yeah, it’s a good episode.

But is it a good finale? I don’t think so. This is supposed to be BFB’s last hurrah, its final impact on the viewers. It should be putting its best foot forward here, but it drops the ball on so many things I can’t in good conscience say it was a satisfying conclusion to the season.

I just hope TPOT handles its finale a lot better.

Post-Split as a Whole

Welp, that certainly was a ride. Time for some closing thoughts.

While it might seem like I dislike characters like Gelatin from what I’ve said in this rant, I really don’t. I like these characters in the other seasons they’re in! Post-Split just kinda doesn’t do all that great with them.

Additionally, I don’t hate Post-Split either. I don’t love it, though. It’s just okay. It has some high highs, and some pretty deep lows. It has a lot of little things (and some major ones) that all together keep me from loving it like I do all the other seasons.

I’ve seen some people say the Split was the nail in the coffin for BFB, that there was no way Post-Split could have lived up to what came before. I don’t share this opinion. Episodes like BFB 20 and 26 (and to a lesser extent, 28 and 29, and to an even lesser extent, 22) show to me that Post-Split could have been something special.

So what happened? Why did Post-Split turn out the way it did?

I don’t know. I’m not here to do any meta-analysis or anything.

I’m just here to rant.

And rant I have.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Joanna | My Lips Are Sealed | Platonic [Male Reader]

Dialogue prompt: "Paying won't be necessary."

While you are on guard duty, the wife of your superior and a Jew try to sneak into the dungeons of Herod’s palace.

Requested by J Bart

You flinch at the stench of mould stinging your nose as you walk up to Linius, giving him a nod in greeting. A grateful smile graces his features; he must be exhausted, especially since he had night duty. Linius appears to be very glad to see you to relieve him of his post. “Ah, (Y/n). Right in time. Any longer and I’d have gone as nuts as our prisoner.” 

He gestures at John — the Baptiser — who had been imprisoned after barging into one of Herod’s banquets and making a fool out of the tetrarch by calling him out on his behaviour. Herod Antipas, raised Jewish, did not follow Mosaic law. You weren’t very well-read when it came to Judaism, but it was clear that Herod’s lifestyle did not necessarily fit his upbringing. Either way, the Baptiser was imprisoned, and as far as you knew, they weren’t planning on releasing him any time soon, either.

Which honestly, you didn’t really mind. You’d never admit it to your superiors, but you liked the strange preacher in spite of his unconventional ways of getting his message across. John is straight to the point. Determined and faithful to the God he serves. You have seen your fair share of preachers before, but none as intriguing as John himself. Well, apart from the One he had been talking to you about. Even though you were Roman, John insisted that you’d go and see his cousin, Jesus of Nazareth, in Person. 

You don’t find a burden in guarding John at all, even looking forward to your shifts. He whispers stories about Jesus to you, and about the Kingdom of God, and in the light of your declining, merely traditional faith in your own deities, you want to know more and more. Perhaps that you believe, or eventually will, but it is clear that this is no ordinary Man that John is risking his life for. 

“I can take your next shift as well, then.” you offer. Although you try to make it sound like some kind of lighthearted suggestion, you’re frankly hoping that Linius will accept. 

“In need of extra salary? Or just trying to climb the ranks?” 

“I just have nothing better to do.” you tell him, which isn’t a lie. After all, what better place than to learn everything about this Kingdom that John preached? It is the closest to Jesus that you’d ever get.

“Very well then. I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.” 

“You owe me.” 

“See, there’s the catch.” Linius chuckles and points at you whilst he walks towards the other end of the hallway, nearing the corner. He looks over his shoulder one more time and smirks.

“Good luck. Hail Caesar.”

“Hail Caesar.” 

You repeat the words out of duty, for even though they sound hollow to you — especially these days — you have still sworn duty to Emperor Tiberius. 

Linius walks off and leaves you be. Straightening your back, you clear your throat as you approach John’s cell.

“Good evening, (Y/n).” he says with a grin. “Double duty, huh? Am I that interesting?” 

You can’t fight a chuckle. 

“Are you fishing for compliments?” 

John laughs lightly as he wraps his hands around the iron bars. “I’m flattered, honestly. So… Remind me where we left off last time.”

“Have you forgotten already?”

“Well, I haven’t, but I want to make sure that you have not forgotten, either.”

You hum and momentarily glance over to another cell from where a prisoner is staring at you; maybe he’s looking at John, you aren’t sure. For a moment, you wonder if any of them are taking the Baptist’s words to heart and if they weigh differently if one is either free or imprisoned. 

“We were talking about the origin of good and evil,” you tell John, “And how your God differs from our plethora.” 

“You haven’t been to the sermon.” John states. You shake your head.

“I tried to reschedule my patrol duty, but alas, it was out of my hands.” 

The Baptist hums and scratches through his beard. “It would have been valuable to you. But then, I reckon that Joanna will be able to report back to you about the sermon.”

“I don’t doubt it.” you respond with a small smile. Ever since your shared interest in John the Baptist and in turn the Jesus of Nazareth he has told the two of you about, you’ve been starting to form a bond of friendship, or mutual understanding at least. 

“So, when regarding good and evil, I had already established that God is the source of life itself, as well as everything that is pure. Evil only exists because God allows it to. He is not the creator of evil itself, but He allowed it because of mercy.” 

“Mercy? It doesn’t sound merciful to me to allow people to do bad things.” 

“Let me explain.” John continues, “If God wants people to follow Him, to genuinely love Him, they need to have a choice to not do so, either. Are you married, (Y/n)?” 

“I am.” 

“So, why do you love your wife?”

You smile a little, a fond spark inside your chest. “Well, because she is beautiful both inside and out, and we are a good match. A rare thing within our community, really. Most people wed out of political arrangement or convenience.”

John hums.

“That’s true. It happens in all cultures, don’t forget that. However, how are these marriages? Are both parties equally happy?” 

“Not always. A few others in my legion are not as fond of their wives as I am. Or they have multiple.” 

“So, do you reckon it’s healthy?”

You shake your head. “I suppose not.” 

“Would you consider those marriages to be based on genuine love?” 

“No.”

Then, John tightens his grip on the iron bars as he shifts closer to you. “Let’s say you were in one of these marriages. Not to your wife, but to a random woman. And she’d say to you, you are going to love me whether you like it or not. We are going to be together and this is just how it is going to be. What would you think of that? Would you truly love her?”

“I don’t think so. Some people say that one learns to love through marriage… But I don’t reckon it to be a good dynamic.” 

“Right.” John gives you a small nod. 

You turn a bit towards him without taking your presence away from the other prisoners. No matter that you’re here to listen to any word that John says, you’re still on duty and still responsible for their behaviour. 

“So, would you agree that choosing your own spouse is a better way to find real love?”

“Yes. If I can choose to marry or not marry a woman of my choosing, of course I’d marry someone that I care about. Someone I want to grow old with, for better and for worse.” 

John smiles. “Precisely. So, it’s the same with God.” 

You frown a little. “But that’s a different kind of relationship. You don’t get married to God, right?”

John chuckles lightly. “No, indeed, you don’t get married to Him. But He doesn’t want to force us to love Him. Because a mandatory love is not a real love. Does that make sense?” 

“It does,” you agree.

“So, for us to love God in a way that we truly desire Him with our hearts, there has to be an option to not choose Him. And because God is the sole source of everything good in the world, there has to be a way to freely choose what to do, also if what we choose isn’t good. We can’t be forced to do good things.”

You mull over the words.

“Of course it’s way more complicated than that, but I’m just trying to simplify things here.” John adds, grinning a bit. “There’s many conversations to be had about the source of evil, why God allows it to often hit the ones who love Him just as much as those who don’t, but I can’t risk flooding your brain with too many questions and answers at once, hm?” 

You chuckle. “I suppose not. It does make sense, and I’m looking forward to hearing more. For us Romans, it’s a little different. In our culture, good and evil is approached by looking at—” 

Right when you are about to tell John your side of the story, you hear the door to the dungeons open and fall shut again. You quickly straighten out, standing at attention, appearing to be on full alert regarding your duty. When the familiar face of Joanna appears around the corner, you feel yourself relax a bit.

She smiles at you, then looks over her shoulder at someone, a rather shaken looking young man with unruly dark curls, whose gaze is focused upon the cell where John is standing. 

Joanna holds something in her palm, and you have an inkling that you know what it is.

“It will be… Embarrassing to me if you tell anyone about my visit, or my friend being with me.”

“Not to worry. I won’t say a word to anyone.” you muse. 

The Roman woman holds a satchel of money against your hand. A heavy purse, you can tell by the way the coins clink together.

“Paying won’t be necessary.” you reassure her with a small shake of your head. “You were never here. I wholly understand that you’ve brought a former student of John here. Would you… Would you mind if I stayed to listen, too?” 

Joanna smiles, pocketing the satchel of coins again. 

“Not at all. Bygones, it would make no sense to send a willing audience away.” 

“John said that you attended the sermon. I’d like to hear about it, too.” 

She nods. “I’ll tell you everything. Come on, Andrew.” Then, she brushes past you with the man named Andrew in tow, whose eyes have not left the Baptiser.

“John?” his voice wavers as he halts in front of the cell. “John, are you alright?” 

“What are you doing here?” John breathes as an excited look comes over his face, his eyes glittering as they settle on his friend. “Who allowed this?”

“No one.” Joanna whispers. “We should be quick.” 

“I’ll be fine.” John assures, “Think of it this way - I've never got to sleep in a palace before.” It lightens the mood, and both men chuckle lightly. “But what are you doing here?” 

“I’ve been so worried,” the curly-haired man says, “Praying for you every day.” 

“You’ve got a new Rabbi now. The Rabbi. Focus on Him. And hopefully I'll be able to as well soon enough.” 

John gestures at Joanna, causing you to turn to the woman.

“She came to me in distress after Herod arrested me. Not for my sake. She was angry I didn't call out her husband's adultery when I accused Herod.” The Baptiser laughs lightly. “She’s proving an apt pupil. And my friend (Y/n) here, too. Did you talk to Him, Joanna?” 

Joanna steps closer to the cell and quietly speaks. “Yes. I told Him everything you told me.

“Thank you, but that’s not as important. What do you think of Him?” 

A large smile spreads over her lips as she looks at Andrew, at you, then back at john.

“I... I don’t know how to describe it.” She breathes in awe.

“Like you are grateful for food and didn’t realise you’d been starving.” 

“That works.” She giggles. 

“Anything new?” 

You perk up your ears, wanting to drink in everything about Jesus.

“So much.” Andrew says. 

“Tell me what He said.” John urges.

“Nothing that made sense.” Joanna pipes up, “Everything backwards— the poor, the grieving, the meek, all elevated.”

“Blessed.” 

“Yes! And other things reversed... Love your enemies. Who can love their enemy?!”

“He can. What else?” 

Joanna is beaming as she continues. Your heart hammers in anticipation.

“Bizarre imagery, like... Something about pearls before pigs, and logs in eyes...” Andrew adds.

“Salt, murder, rain... God feeding the birds, houses on sand...” 

“He’s almost as strange as you, John!”

“Oh, I wish I were as strange.” John murmurs. “How many people were there?”

“Thousands.” Your heart rears at the notion of thousands of people listening in to the sermon of the Rabbi you’ve been hearing so much about.

“Thousands… Wonderful. Wonderful!” the Baptiser whispers in awe. “What else?” 

“John.” Andrew firmly states. “What can we do for you? How—how can I help you?” 

Deciding to give the two some privacy, you decide to step away. Joanna follows you to give them some space to converse, and for a moment, you’re torn between listening in and speaking to the woman next to you, whose face has started to glow happily ever since seeing Jesus of Nazareth in person.

“Joanna,” you whisper. “Can you tell me all about this later? I want to know everything there is to know. What you have learned is so valuable. We… We should really get our hands on their texts, I… I want to know more. I need to know more. I… I don’t even know what to say.”

Joanna grins at you. “It rejoices my heart to hear how eager you are, (Y/n).” She squeezes your shoulder. “I agree. We should see when we can speak more about this… After all, there is much to be learned. But you should really come and see Him some time. I’m not sure when I will be able to speak to Jesus again, but… I’d really like you to come with me next time.” 

You eagerly nod. “Yes. Yes please.” 

Joanna hums and for a moment you have a moment of meaningful eye-contact, establishing your newfound kinship further, rooted in something that goes beyond the understanding of you both. 

Turning back to the prisoner and his secret visitor, you focus back on what they’re saying.

John gives his former student a look. “So if you want to help me… Andrew?” The curly-haired man looks up, “If you want to help me... Listen to Him. Go home, and do what He says. That's what I want… Got it? Now, let Joanna get you out of here so you don't join me.” 

Joanna and you watch the two with soft smiles on your face. Andrew blinks away tears as he steps away from his imprisoned friend. “Adonai be with you, John.”

“And with you, Andrew. Always. Shalom shalom.” 

“Shalom shalom. Until we meet again.” 

With a heavy heart, Andrew walks towards Joanna to be escorted out. 

He gives you a small nod, which you mirror, and Joanna smiles before turning towards the exit. 

As the two walk off, you pivot to the Baptist, who gives you a kind look. “Well, that was refreshing. It was good for both of us.” You nod in agreement before John carries on. “I think you should talk to Joanna about this later. I’m sure she’s got plenty more to tell you.” 

“I was already planning on it.” 

John hums and smiles. “Good. And don’t forget to report back to me, alright?” 

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Amusement glitters in his eyes when you look at him. “Now, you have a good while of your duty left before you’ll be relieved. How about you make your rounds and return here so we can continue our conversation where we left off, before we were so… Rudely interrupted?” 

You snicker and nod.

“Of course, I’ll be right back.”

With a quick stride, you head through the dungeons to make sure everything is in order, glad to have offered Linius to take over his shift as well. 

The more you learn about God, about this Jesus of Nazareth, the hungrier you are becoming, and you have a feeling that there is only one decision left to make.

[kallie-den]

The Victim

Steph, a trans girl at a traditionalist college, suffers a curse that turns everyone around her into cruel, sadistic bullies. But is it really a curse at all? That depends on how she feels about it - and who comes near her

This was another story voted on my by patrons! I'd also like to make clear that it doesn't involve any transphobia directed at the main character

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The pain of impact on still-fresh bruises was something Steph had come to know intimately. It tasted like metal in her mouth; like a white flash, like a thunderbolt that made her ears ring hot. It made her retreat into herself for a moment, and all the hard, cruel words being thrown at her briefly became nothing but noise. It made Steph almost grateful for the pain. But it didn’t last. It never lasted. The pain receded, and the world came back into focus.

And with it, the words.

“Look at this freak!” said the girl who had just shoved Steph back into the stairwell railing. Her pretty voice was twisted by gleeful spite. “She’s enjoying this.”

Steph’s body quivered in treasonous rapture. She tugged at the hem of her long turtleneck sweater, hoping to disguise any further reactions her body might be having. As she did, she tried to tell herself: it wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t their fault. They couldn’t help themselves.

“She really is,” sneered another girl. She jabbed at Steph with a hard, accusative finger. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

It was a familiar question, and Steph hated the way it still made her whimper. She’d heard it so many times, from so many people. She wasn’t sure which girl had said it. She stared determinedly at the ground, unwilling to check. She didn’t want to remember, and she didn’t want to see that awful look she knew she’d find in their eyes; a bright light, shining through frosted glass.

It didn’t matter who these girls were. Steph hadn’t recognized any of them when they had cornered her. They were the usual type, though. Brash, outgoing, loud, mean. Bad girls. Natural bullies, not that there was anything natural about this. Those were always the first. Steph sometimes wondered why. Was it personality, or just proximity? But in the end, that didn’t matter either.

And it wasn’t their fault. Never their fault.

Steph had hoped it would end when she left school and came to college. That’s how it was supposed to go, wasn’t it? College was where you outgrew your bullies. She’d chosen this college in particular largely because of its upper-crust, old-fashioned values. It promised to enforce strict standards of conduct on all its students, and boasted a zero-tolerance policy towards bullying or prejudice of any kind. That was very important to Steph, both because she was trans and because of her unique situation. She’d hoped that those policies and values would set her free from what plagued her.

A forlorn hope.

“Hey!” A jabbing finger hit on another old bruise. It felt like a knife. “We asked you a question, freak. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

Steph just nodded. That was what they wanted, wasn’t it? So what was the point in doing anything else?

Their chorus of laughter felt like teeth on her skin. Steph tried to clamp down hard on everything their mockery made her feel. She just needed to get through this. They’d get bored. They’d lost interest.

For today, at least.

“She doesn’t look ashamed,” one of the girls said. Her voice was so thick with mirth it almost made her voice catch. “She looks like she’s having the ride of her life.”

That pierced Steph’s armor. She twitched violently, pulling tighter on the hem of her sweater. Could they see what she was trying to hide? Maybe. She was tall; taller than any of them, even when she was stooping. She hated being so tall, especially given her condition. She hated being so visible. She needed to hide.

But the girls bullying her were closing in. Their hands were all over her, pushing and prodding, coaxing and squeezing. Threatening to tug her own hands aside. There was only so much Steph could handle, and only so much she could hide. She could feel herself blushing and sweating and shaking. Each one of their cruel laughs made it worse.

And their scents. She couldn’t block that out. Not when they were all around like this. They smelled nice. Sweet. Floral. Why did that make it so much worse? One more cruel comment, and Steph might just-

“Hey, girls,” one of them said. She sounded deeper than the others. Drunker, on Steph’s influence. “What do you say we see what’s going on under these ugly-ass clothes?”

Steph saw white. She twitched and throbbed. No. No, no, no. She needed to get a hold of herself. She needed to stop this. It was getting out of control.

But clear thinking was the very last thing she was capable of.

“N-n-noo,” Steph bleated pathetically. “You c-can’t…”

They just laughed, of course, and their laughter made Steph feel weak all over. So weak, she couldn’t stop them when they started to peel her hands away from the hem of her sweater. Soon, they’d-

“Stop that right now!”

That sudden, piercing, commanding voice left silence in its wake. All the girls bullying Steph turned to look, and that alone was an unspeakable mercy, like stepping from scorching sunlight into the. Every moment she was out of the spotlight was a moment she could use to collect herself. After taking a few deep breaths, the room around Steph stopped spinning and she was able to get a good look at her savior.

Veronica Martin.

Her reputation preceded her, although Steph had only ever actually seen her once when, in her capacity as head of student government, she’d made a speech to all the new freshmen about the school’s strict morals and high standards. In the flesh, anyway. Her image was also plastered all over the college’s promotional material. By all accounts, she was a paragon of virtue, and the perfect embodiment of all the school’s most highly-prized values.

Steph dared to hope. Maybe she was actually saved.

Veronica certainly looked like a paragon. Tall - though not as tall as Steph - with silky, black, waist-length hair, she was classically beautiful and projected a kind of serene calm that somehow made everyone around her want to win her approval and live up to her toweringly high standards. There was nothing calm about her now, though. Her face was drawn into a look of righteous, thunderous fury as she glared at the girls surrounding Steph.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded, gliding towards them.

The girls exchanged looks and titters, making a show of their bravado, but they were nervous. Steph could tell.

“Nothing, Veronica,” one of them drawled. The ringleader. “Just some girls, hanging out.”

“Really?” Veronica raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Do you expect me to believe that for even one moment? You were clearly hassling this poor girl.”

There were a few more nervous giggles. “I dunno,” the girl shot back. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

She was obviously counting on Steph to be so cowed that she’d go along with the pathetic ruse. Shamefully, it might have worked. Steph could already feel the weight of their malicious expectations on her shoulders. Why was she so weak?

“Hm.” Veronica pursed her lips as she looked at Steph. “I’m guessing she’s too scared of you to tell. But I’m not scared of petty little bullies. I’m more than happy to take this to the dean myself.”

“Please!” the girls’ ringleader scoffed. “Like he’s gonna have anything to say about a little friendly horseplay between girls.” She took a long look at Veronica, and her face twisted into a crafty, wicked, grin. “Say, Veronica, why don’t you join us? You look like you could do with blowing off a little steam.”

Steph shivered uncomfortably. Veronica, for her part, looked outraged. “Excuse me?”

“C’mon,” the girl wheedled. “You’d be surprised. I bet even you could get into our kind of fun. Don’t worry, she enjoys it too.” She nodded to Steph. “And I promise. The freak totally deserves it.”

That comment, more than any other, made Steph’s body flush with sinful heat. She closed her eyes for a moment, dreading what might have been about to happen. Mercifully, though, Veronica held firm.

“You’re vile,” she spat. “And fortunately, I don’t need anybody to admit to anything. Except for her, all of you are in violation of the school’s dress code. Heather, that skirt is obviously more than an inch above your knee. Regina, your collar is far too low. What do you think the dean would have to say about that, hm?”

A chorus of groans went up from all around Steph.

“Writing us up for dress code violations?” complained the first girl - Heather. “Are you for real?”

“I absolutely am.” Veronica folded her arms and smiled. She knew she’d won. “In fact, it would be my pleasure. So, what do you think? Do you want to run along and get changed into some more modest clothes?”

Heather glanced around at her lackeys. Even to Steph, it was obvious that their resolve was wavering. Eventually, she sighed.

“Whatever,” she groaned, surrendering. “Girls, let’s leave this stick-up-her-ass loser in the dirt.”

Moving as a pack, they started heading down the stairwell towards the exit - although before she left, Heather flashed a cruel, furious look at Steph.

“You’ll pay for this later, freak,” she snarled under her breath.

Steph shivered at what that might mean, and hated how hot it made her body.

Once they were gone, Veronica rushed to her side. The fury washed away from her face, replaced by a look of intense concern and compassion.

“Are you OK?” she asked urgently. “Did they hurt you? How badly?”

It was a lovely gesture, but her proximity set another knot in Steph’s stomach.

“N-no,” Steph started to say. “I’m f-fine, just- ah!”

Her lie was exposed when Veronica grabbed her wrist - it was only meant to be a gentle, reassuring touch, but she touched on a sensitive bruise and made Steph wince and yelp. Veronica’s frown deepened.

“You don’t need to be afraid of them,” she said gently. “I promise. Here, come with me.”

“B-but…” Steph whined as Veronica tugged at her, trying to lead her away. She needed to get out of here at once.

It’s not that she wasn’t grateful. She was. She was overflowing with gratitude towards Veronica. That was exactly the reason she needed to escape from her.

“Hey, hey,” Veronica soothed, mistaking the source of Steph’s distress. “Don’t worry. They can’t hurt you anymore. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

“I… I… b-but…” Steph whined, but soon gave up resisting. Resistance wasn’t in her nature.

Besides, it was clear that Veronica wasn’t going to be dissuaded so easily. Steph decided her best bet was to go along with her and try to assuage her worries as quickly as possible. Surely it wouldn’t be long until she let Steph flee back to her dorm room.

For now, though, Veronica took her back up the stairwell and into an empty classroom. She carefully shut the door, and then made Steph perch on one of the desks while she fussed over her, checking her for injuries and smoothing out her clothes.

“So,” Veronica said to her, “how long has this been going on?”

Steph didn’t know what to say. Veronica’s proximity was making her unbelievably nervous. “It’s… n-not…”

Veronica sighed, but put a comforting hand on her arm. “Don’t look so afraid,” she said kindly. “I’m not going to drag it out of you. And I’m certainly not going to punish you. I won’t even report this without your permission. I’m on your side, OK? I just want you to know that. I’m on your side, and I can make sure that other people are too.”

“I m-meant…” Steph looked down miserably as she was struck by a pang of guilt. “I meant it’s not their fault.”

Veronica glanced up in alarm. “Of course it is,” she said sharply. “They’re responsible for their own choices. Like choosing to hurt you.”

Steph let out a pathetic laugh. “Not… exactly.”

“Why would you say that?” Veronica sounded like her heart was breaking. “Did they make you feel that way? Did something happen?”

“U-um, n-no.” Belatedly, Steph realized she’d said too much. “No, no, t-that’s not-“

“Oh yes it did.” Veronica perched next to her. “What’s your name?”

“Steph.”

“Steph, I know I said I wouldn’t report this without your permission. And I stand by that. But… I can’t pretend I didn’t see what I saw in that stairwell. Understand? And I know those girls well enough to know they won’t lay off just because I gave them one little talking-to.” Veronica looked Steph dead in the eyes. “So. I need you to tell me exactly what’s going on?”

Steph paled. That was the very last thing she could do. “N-no!” she said, desperate, shaking her head furiously. “No way!”

Veronica folded her arms. “Well, I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

Now Steph really began to panic. She couldn’t tell. Not Veronica, not anyone. They’d never believe her - and even if they did, soon enough it wouldn’t matter.

But… if there was anyone she could ever tell, maybe it was Veronica. She wasn’t like most people. She was a pillar. Most people didn’t bother trying to help Steph. They just looked down on her pityingly, or hurried by like her victimhood was an embarrassment to them. Not Veronica. She clearly held herself to dizzyingly high standards, and even beyond that, she was a font of kindness.

Most people would have already started to succumb by now. Maybe she could take it. Maybe she could help.

It was a tempting thought. But Steph had long since learned to trample down on that kind of hope.

So, instead of baring her heart, she ran.

“S-sorry!” she cried as she leapt to her feet and started sprinting towards the classroom door.

As she ran, her cheeks burned with shame. She knew how Veronica would feel after this. Worried, anxious, perhaps even guilty. It was awful of Steph to abandon her savior like this. But it was for the best.

Unfortunately, she didn’t make it.

After just a few steps, Steph felt Veronica grab at her sleeve. Even though the older girl was just trying to take her hand, she ended up pulling Steph wildly off balance and she tumbled back into Veronica, sending them both into a heap on the ground.

“Damn it,” Veronica said. The frustration in her voice made Steph twitch nervously, even though it was directed at herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… did I hurt you?”

She clambered off of Steph, then reached out to grab her by the wrist and help her to her feet. As soon as they touched, though, Steph recoiled from her like a terrified animal, scrambling to her feet using nearby desks and chairs for support.

Steph was tearing up. Veronica had been right on top of her. Touching her, body to body. It was the worst thing that could possibly have happened.

“Steph?” The trans girl was frantically scanning Veronica’s face, searching for the first symptoms, but there was nothing. Instead, Veronica was overflowing with concern. “You’re seriously worrying me. Is… is there something on your arm? Did they hurt you?”

“N-no!” Steph whimpered. She closed her eyes, silently praying for Veronica to just leave her alone.

“Then what?” Veronica demanded. “I know I said… but I can’t overlook this, Steph! You understand that, right? You need to tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

As she spoke, she let go of gentleness and her voice became full and commanding. Steph felt herself go hot as her body responded to Veronica’s authority with pathetic eagerness. Her mind went blank, and an answer flashed across that blankness and out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“I’m c-cursed,” Steph confessed in a weak voice. “It makes - I make - people h-hurt me.”

“Steph…” As soon as she said her name like that, Steph knew she hadn’t gotten through to Veronica. “No. No! I’m so sorry someone made you feel that way, but no. You don’t.”

“I do!” Steph’s voice turned shrill. She needed to make Veronica understand. “I do. A-and you should just get away from me, or it’ll happen to you too.”

“It won’t,” Veronica insisted. Steph wanted to believe her so badly. Veronica glanced down at Steph’s sweater. “What you’re wearing… Steph, are you hiding bruises?”

“N-no,” Steph lied instinctively, but Veronica wasn’t convinced. She advanced on Steph.

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Show me.”

“Wha-“

An icy chill raced down Steph’s spine. Was this normal for Veronica? Where was her gentle patience from moments ago? Why was she suddenly being so forceful?

Was it just because she was freaked out? Or was it something more?

Desperately, Steph started searching her eyes. Her face. Her body language. Searching for a sign, and hoping not to see it. But all the while, Veronica was advancing on her.

“Show me!” Veronica insisted.

Her hand darted out and started tugging at one of the loose, baggy sleeves of Steph’s sweater. Taken aback, Steph tried to fight back, but Veronica was stronger and swifter. Easily manhandling the taller girl, she rolled her sleeve up all the way to the shoulder and gasped at what she saw on the skin underneath.

A mosaic of bruises, all the way from her wrist to where they disappeared beneath her t-shirt. Some old, some new; all in different shades of deep, rich blue or purple. A few were fresh enough to stick in Steph’s mind: there was one from the lady who’d sat next to her on the bus that morning, a couple from the professor she’d stayed after class to speak with, and even now, a few that she’d received from Heather and her friends were starting to blossom.

Steph knew exactly what it looked like, and as Veronica silently inspected her bruised skin, she whimpered at the pity she could see in her eyes. But then she saw something else too. A slight, unnatural dilation of her pupils. A certain glazed dullness over the light of her kindness. The tiniest flaring of her nostrils, like she was catching Steph’s scent for the first time.

It was almost nothing, but it made Steph’s heart pound.

“How…” Veronica murmured, after a moment. “How could anyone do this to you?”

Without seeming to realize what she was doing, she started tracing her fingertips lightly over the bruises. It was like she was mesmerized by them. Frantic, Steph tried to reassure herself. This was a normal way to react. Veronica was just surprised, that was all. There was still hope.

If Steph couldn’t run, hope was all she had.

"How long has this been going on?” Veronica asked, her voice still soft.

“For years,” Steph confessed. It felt good to unburden herself, despite everything. “N-not just them, I mean. In high school. There were others.”

Veronica nodded thoughtfully. Steph couldn’t read her expression. “You… haven’t tried to stop it? One way or another?”

“There’s nothing I can do,” Steph replied miserably. “At first I tried going to teachers. B-but soon enough they were, well…”

“Have you tried standing up for yourself?”

The question stung a little, mostly because Steph didn’t have a good answer. She’d just never had that kind of fight in her. Whenever she found herself in that kind of situation, she was always undermined by other desires, ones that were hard to articulate and even harder to defend.

“I-I… just…” Steph looked down. “I c-can’t…”

“Hm.” Veronica looked down too, and muttered under her breath: “Honestly, it’s like you’re not even trying.”

Steph’s blood ran cold. “W-what?”

“Oh, nothing.” Veronica looked up again, and she was smiling. The scorn Steph thought she’d heard in her voice had left just as quickly as it had appeared. “It’s just that this is so awful. Steph, I promise you, one way or another, I’ll put a stop to this.”

“T-thank you.” Steph blushed and nodded.

Please. Please. Please let it not affect her.

“I won’t let this be a school where students bully and injure one another in the corridors,” Veronica continued, her conviction growing. “No. That just won’t do. I have a responsibility. A moral responsibility.”

Steph nodded again, but cautiously. There was so much zeal in Veronica’s voice. And for some reason, she’d started squeezing Steph’s wrist a little tighter.

“I think it’s important to get to the root of the problem,” Veronica went on, muttering to herself. “You always need to deal with the ringleader. The instigator.”

“V-Veronica,” Steph whined. “That’s… it kinda h-hurts…”

She was talking about her arm. Veronica was squeezing tighter and tighter on her wrists, provoking complaints from Steph’s bruises. Veronica seemed to pause for a moment, suddenly lucid, and briefly Steph dared to hope that her good nature would triumph.

The moment passed.

“It’s you,” Veronica decided. “You’re to blame.”

Steph thought she was going to throw up, even as her cheeks started to burn treasonously. “W-w-what?”

“You heard me.” The kind Veronica was gone. She was a disciplinarian now, just like she had been with the bullies, but all of it was now directed at Steph. “You. You’re the one who needs to be punished.”

“B-b-but…”

The room around Steph was spinning. It had gone wrong so fast. Why was she surprised? It was always like this. She was cursed. It was her own fault, for letting Veronica get close to her. Why had she ever entertained those foolish hopes? Steph felt awful.

But that didn’t stop her from being incredibly turned on.

“You said so yourself,” Veronica told her sternly. “It’s your fault. You’re the common denominator, Steph. You’re…”

She paused for a moment and frowned. It was like she was struggling to rationalize what her new impulses were telling her. Struggling to square them with her long-held morals. Steph didn’t know what to make of that. She’d never seen anyone struggle like this.

“You’re encouraging them,” Veronica said slowly, pushing through the cognitive dissonance she should have felt. “You… you shouldn’t be so tempting. You’re disrupting this nice, harmonious school. Why do you have to make such a spectacle of yourself?”

"I’m… not…” Steph was blinking back tears. It was nothing she hadn’t heard before, but it always felt like a knife twisted in her gut. Somehow, coming from Veronica, it was even worse. “I-I mean, I wasn’t trying to…”

“It’s indecent,” Veronica said sternly. “No wonder those girls were…” She paused, correcting herself. “Well. No. No, they’re troublemakers too, of course. Bullies. I’ll deal with them. But you. You’re the root of it. Aren’t you?”

“N-n-no!” Steph cried. She was turning her head this way and that, but there was no avoiding Veronica’s gaze. “I mean… no, um, yes, but not, l-like that, I-“

“So you admit it?” Veronica interrupted. “Shameless. Utterly shameless.”

“I…”

Steph didn’t know how to articulate that she was very far from shameless. Shame was all she felt. It coursed through her like a current, making her hate herself, making her body burn with its passing.

"What am I going to do with you?” Veronica finally let go of Steph’s wrist and started pacing a short track back and forth across the floor - although she kept herself, Steph noticed, between her and the door. “I can’t let you go on like this. Corrupting people.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Steph wasn’t sure if Veronica actually understood what was happening to her. But it didn’t matter now. She was too far gone.

At least, Steph thought so. As she apologized, Veronica looked at her and seemed to soften. Maybe there was still something of the good, principled student president inside her. The kind of girl who would always accept an apology. But, all too soon, it faded.

“I have to keep you away from them,” Veronica decided. “I can’t trust you out there, with girls like Heather. The last thing they need is you, making them even worse. Maybe… no, no, even the professors and deans. You’d get to them too. I… it has to be me. I’m the only one who can be trusted to uphold this school’s morals.”

Steph’s stomach sank into an abyss. What did that mean?

“Yes. Yes.” Veronica was pacing faster. Finding her rhythm. “No more awful spectacles like that in the stairwells. I’ll… I’ll have the dean appoint me as your personal tutor. You can move to a different dorm room, too. The one next to mine.”

Suddenly, it dawned on Steph who she was dealing with. Veronica wasn’t some random bully. She was the head of student government. She had power - and unlike some of the professors who had tormented Steph, she didn’t need to be so worried about propriety.

If she got her way, there would be no escaping her.

“It’ll help you too, of course,” Veronica reasoned. Steph could sense her good nature bending and warping with each passing moment. “None of these other girls will be able to hurt you. I won’t let you get your filth all over them.”

Inwardly, Steph was begging herself to say something. Do something. This was all going so wrong. Worse and worse by the moment. She needed to put a stop to it. But as usual, she couldn’t think. Her body was on fire. Why was she like this? She couldn’t tell if this sick pleasure was part of the curse, or simply a sickness deep in her soul.

“Yes. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.” Veronica had clearly made up her mind. She stopped pacing, and grabbed at Steph’s arm again. Steph was too terrified even to flinch. “No need for any more of these awful bruises.”

At that moment, she seemed to pause. Her nostrils flared again, and the look in her eyes became even more glazed. Something was tugging at her. Upsetting the equilibrium she had only just found. Steph held her breath.

“But.” Veronica said it like it was a mere afterthought, but the pause that followed made it dreadful. It was like something was growing inside her. Her hand clamped back down on Steph’s wrist. “You need to be punished.”

“P-please…”

Both of them froze. It had come out of Steph’s mouth not just as a plea, but as a moan. It sounded like she had been begging - and suddenly, Steph couldn’t be sure that she hadn’t. A look of vicious scorn dawned on Veronica’s face.

"Take off your clothes,” she commanded coldly.

Steph trembled like a leaf. “N-no,” she whimpered, but already, she was obeying. Veronica’s instruction went straight through her. She felt helpless to refuse. So, she lifted her sweater off over her head. Then came her t-shirt, exposing yet more bruises. Then, her long skirt. She stopped there, hoping it would be enough. It was, but standing there in her bra and panties made her feel plenty exposed.

Especially since there was no longer any hope of hiding how aroused she was.

Veronica’s eyes quickly settled on the distinct tent in Steph’s panties. “You’re…” she breathed. “You’re enjoying this. Aren’t you? Are you some kind of pervert?”

Steph shook her head in mute denial, but the way her cock twitched at the disgust in Veronica’s voice made a liar of her. Veronica took a step towards her.

“You really do need to be punished,” she said coldly. “Bend over.”

Steph was deep under her spell now. She moved to obey - but not quickly enough. Veronica was soon on her, forcing her around and throwing her forward so that she slumped breathlessly over the nearest desk.

She had been so gentle, just minutes ago.

“It’s for your own good,” Veronica insisted. She rested a hand on Steph’s back, pushing down with her weight, keeping the sniffing, whimpering trans girl helpless. “It’s for your own good.”

Was there a twinge of regret and conflict in her voice? Was she trying to hold herself back? It was such a tantalizing possibility, but Steph just couldn’t be sure.

The possibility seemed far more remote as soon as she felt Veronica’s other hand come down hard on her bare, already-bruised ass.

Steph cried out and bucked like a wounded horse. Tears started to fall down her cheeks - tears of pain and humiliation both. The pain was so sharp. So intimate. It was more than even she was used to, and Veronica wasn’t going to give her time to brace herself for the next blow. It came quickly, and then the next, and then the next.

“You deserve this,” Veronica grunted. Her voice was labored from exertion. “You’re making me do this. Remember that.”

The words stung perhaps even worse than the spanks. It was true, after all, even if Veronica herself didn’t understand quite how true. The shame it brought Steph was all but nauseating, but even that was transformed into simmering pleasure inside her. Shame was one of her biggest turn-ons. Pain was too. Steph was helpless in the face of her own desires.

How good it all felt was another twist of the knife. The shame she felt at feeling like she had turned Veronica into an instrument of her own pleasure was overwhelming. And, of course, that felt good too. It compounded on itself, again and again, making a ruined, pathetic wretch out of her.

“You should be apologizing.” Veronica was putting all her strength into beating Steph, and it was making her voice harsh and guttural. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“I-I-I’m sssorryyy.” The words left Steph’s mouth as an incoherent, drooling moan. She barely knew what she was supposed to be apologizing for.

It was hard to think about anything at all when each spank made her shudder, and made her cock rub against the hard, cold desk beneath her through her panties.

Steph wasn’t a stranger to being hurt. Far from it. All too often, it was a daily fact of life. But there was something different about Veronica’s spanking. It wasn’t random, impulsive, self-satisfied violence. There was a ritual to it. Veronica was sticking to a firm rhythm, and her attention was given over completely to the task at hand. Something about her methodical, dedicated manner made butterflies flit and fly in Steph’s stomach.

This wasn’t violence. It was discipline.

Eventually, the blows stopped. Steph lingered for a moment in fearful anticipation, but when nothing more came, she finally relaxed. She wasn’t sure if it was that Veronica had meted out her full punishment, or if she’d simply tired of hitting her. Either way, it was a relief.

Punishment was an unbelievable catharsis.

A few seconds more passed, and Veronica let up on her back. Timidly, Steph straightened up and turned around. Her face was so red she could feel it burning, and her hair was a mess. Even though she was taller than Veronica, she couldn’t resist the urge to shrink into herself and hunch down until they were almost the same height. Everything was hot. Only Veronica’s gaze was frigid.

“Maybe…” the other girl began slowly. Her face registered a faint shock. Steph noticed the glazed look in her eyes beginning to fade. Was it over? “Maybe I went a little too… I’m s-”

She broke off and looked down. All too late, Steph realized what she was staring at. The front of her panties.

Steph was harder than ever, and her panties were stained with wetness that was beginning to dribble down and coat her inner thighs. Once she noticed too, she bent down and crossed her hands in front of herself, but there was no hiding it now. Veronica had already seen. She knew exactly what kind of a freak Steph was.

“You’re still…” Veronica’s voice sounded distant for a moment, but as she spoke, more feeling came back into it, and that feeling was hard and cruel. “How are you still…”

Her nostrils flared again. Her eyes faded almost completely. It was a ghoulish spectacle, like the girl in front of Steph had, just for a brief moment, been switched off and hollowed out. But what happened next was even worse. Something came to fill in the void, something new and awful, once it made its home inside her head, the light that appeared behind Veronica’s eyes was vicious and gleeful in a way that truly, deeply, didn’t suit her. It was like a devil was possessing her. The transformation was subtle, but unmistakable.

Especially to Steph, frozen solid in terror. She knew exactly what was coming next.

Sadism.

A weird, lopsided, unsteady grin washed over Veronica’s face. “God,” she spat. “You really are a freak.”

Steph trembled and whimpered. “P-please,” she said quietly. “Please s-stop. You don’t have to…”

She trailed off. She didn’t know what to say, and she was sure there was no use to it. She just felt, she supposed, an obligation to try and save Veronica. To salvage her, her kindness and her good nature, from what Steph’s awful curse had made out of her.

It was no use.

“Shut up,” Veronica growled, and punched Steph straight in the gut.

The sudden blow took her completely off guard, and Steph bent double as all the air was forced out of her lungs. She retched, although nothing came up, and slumped against the desk for stability. The pain was a black hole. It sucked in all of Steph’s being for many long moments until she was able to finally catch her breath.

Then, the sound of laughter.

She looked up. It was Veronica, of course. She was laughing at Steph. Laughing at her pain. Discipline wasn’t enough for Steph’s curse. Discipline had limits and bounds. At some point, discipline stopped. So, the curse it had pushed Veronica further. Beyond discipline, to simple violence.

“Maybe I was too hard on those girls,” Veronica mused. She was breathing hard again, but not just from exertion. From excitement. “You make this so hard to resist, Steph.”

Steph hated that she could do nothing but whimper and whine. Arousal and guilt were like two wolves, gnawing at the inside of her chest. Seeing Veronica like this was awful. Her face shone with glee at seeing Steph suffer, at making her hurt, and it was just so petty. So unworthy of her. A paragon of virtue, warped into a mere bully.

Why was it so hot?

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” Veronica added. “I won’t let them at you again. No, it’s like I said. You’re all mine now. All mine to take care of.”

Steph looked down. She couldn’t tell if she should be grateful, or horrified. She’d never had a bully quite like this. One who was so determined to keep her close at their side, and who had the power to actually make that happen.

Maybe there was no point trying to decide how to feel about it. After all, whatever happened, happened. It was out of her control now.

She was Veronica’s.

“Come on,” Veronica barked at her. She was already shaking slightly, like she was eager to throw another punch, but instead, she threw Steph’s discarded clothes at her. “We’re going to go and speak to the dean about our new arrangement.”

Meekly, Steph obeyed. She’d long since learned that there was no point in pretending she could fight back.

This - all of this - was simply in her nature.

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

For character ask game:

2, 4, 6, 7, 15, 16, 19 and 24 for Aegon and Aemond.

Sorry if it's too many questions, I really like your takes on them:)

Hi! Nothing to apologize for really:) If anything, I'm really grateful to you for the opportunity to talk about my beloved Green boys💚

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Aegon: Him not wanting the crown (at least initially) but still accepting it, along with the burden of being the King and a huge target on his back (bigger than it had been before, that is) to protect his family. It's about book!Aegon, yes, and I will never forgive the HotD writers for taking this away from Aegon and from us.

Aemond: Him training incessantly to become a great swordsman in spite of his injury. And the fact that he did not assume the KIng's title, remaining the Prince Regent after Rook's Rest (if the show changes that as well, I'll be royally mad).

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Aegon: Two options come to mind: either some DC universe movie, dark and dramatic, or a Regency era novel. The difference is wild but I feel like Aegon`s flawed, tormented but very nuanced character would fit nicely in both worlds.

Aemond: A dark fantasy novel (which later gets an amazing movie adaptation) where he'd be a some kind of mystical being somehow thrown into our world with his universe and ours starting to blend because of it. Enchanting atmosphere, cool character arcs and lots of dark humour.

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

Aegon: I can relate to Aegon being pressured by expectations of his elders - and having to assume the role he did not want (in my case it was way less dramatic, of course, and lower stakes were involved).

Aemond: Linking the answer here

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

Aegon: Showing him both compassion and respect, as he deserves both.

Aemond: Acknowledging both the fact that he is capable of great cruelty and that it doesn't make him incapable of experiencing human emotions.

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Aegon and Aemond: The answer is the same for both because it's Aegond all the way. They might not understand each other at times, they might quarrel and hiss at one another; there is a place for envy and bitterness in their relationship because they are so unlike each other - by nature and, in a way, by destiny that dealt each of them their lot (elder and younger, king and prince, ruler and his fiercest warrior). But at the end of the day their place is by each other's side. Aegon has Aemond's back and vice versa because this is what they do - they defend their own.

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

First things first, no hate to the supporters of any pairing mentioned further. I live by SALS principle, never tried to make anyone's life harder because of shipping reasons and hope for the same favor in return.

Aegon: Rhaegon and Aligon.

Aemond: Lucemond and Helaemond.

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

Aegon and Aemond: Again, the answer is the same for both, and it's their relationship with Viserys. Neglect and complete detachment coming from the father; hurt, rage and contempt coming from both sons, but processed and expressed differently. A stuff of depression-inducing nightmares.

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

Just to clarify: i don't mean that the characters I will mention there are just like Aegon and Aemond. They just remind me of them, in one way or another:)

Aegon: Aethelwold from The Last Kingdom. A member of a royal family, one of the candidates for the throne, who is deemed unworthy but has a lot more to him than one might see: intelligence, cunning, sharp wit and no less sharp tongue.

Also sometimes I get from Aegon just a tiny bit of Terry Pratchett's Rincewind vibes. Might be that both go through a lot but manage to survive. And Rincewind is often underestimated by those around him as well.

Aemond: Achilles, with his desire for glory and renown - and with his fighting skills (I'm not saying Aemond is as good as Achillles was, just that he was very good, excellent even). And Azazello from The Master and Margarita for Aemond's dark side - with the coldness, harshness and severity (which in Aemond's case are at least half-artificial but still).

Thanks again for the ask!

[blackjackkent]

Aw, we get a long rest cutscene with Shadowheart. It seems to take place outside the camp so I'm going to assume this is happening before Hector goes to bed for the drabble I just wrote.

This seems to be some sort of Selunite churchyard; I'm not sure where in the city this is supposed to be, but I do love that she and Hector apparently came there together. The only scenario I can think of where this would happen is that she asked him to come with her, because I don't think he would have, like, followed her.

So he comes with her and just kind of stands there and watches as she wanders around, waiting until she's ready to speak.

"It doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while," she says thoughtfully after a while. "Perhaps people lost faith. Or forgot about it."

He raises one shoulder in a slight shrug. He has not lost faith. But he cannot speak for the people of the city, who all seem to come at the world from a darker angle.

"I wanted to come here," she goes on after a little while. "To see if I felt anything that I hadn't done before. Now that I know what I know. Now that I know what I am."

He nods slowly. "You've turned from Shar," he points out gently. "Doesn't necessarily oblige you to come here and embrace Selune." He has pointed this out to her before - that after what she has been through, her obligation is to herself, before it is to any goddess, even the one he serves.

"True," she agrees. "But too much freedom can be frightening. Lonely. There's a reason why so many are eager to bow..." Her eyes squeeze shut and she looks away from him, her fists clenching at her sides. "I had my family, for too short a moment. Now they're gone... by my hand..."

He listens quietly, moving to lean his weight against a nearby plinth. As often before, his role here is not to convince her of anything, but merely to listen, to let her work her own thoughts out.

Say nothing.

He waits. And to his surprise... tears well in her eyes, and after so much pain, so much suffering... he finally sees her cry.

Her shoulders hunch and she buries her face in her hands, her whole body starting to shake with sobs. All the reality of the last twenty-four hours is suddenly crashing in on her and he feels a surge of tremendous grief and compassion for her that makes his heart ache.

Embrace her.

Neither of them has ever seemed remotely interested in a hug before, and yet the movement feels utterly instinctive, automatic, as if he would never even consider doing otherwise. He wraps his arms tightly around her, pulls her in against his chest, and after a moment's hesitation he feels her grip him back, her fingers digging into his shirt as if clinging on to avoid being swept away by a tidal wave.

Her face presses into his shoulder and she weeps bitterly with exhaustion and grief. And he holds her, and rocks his weight slightly side to side, mumbling an inarticulate sound of wordless comfort. And in spite of how terrible the events that brought them here, he feels tremendously gratified to have been asked to stand with her now.

From the guarded fear with which he first knew her, through the wary support with which he has followed her crisis of faith... they have finally come to rest, equals. Born siblings in the Selunite faith, but followers of very different paths, each feeling their way through the dark, each faced with questions in the real world that they never expected in their sheltered life before. And he realizes in this moment how terribly proud of her he is - and, almost to his surprise, that in her there are seeds of the sense of family that he thought he lost when he was pulled from the monastery.

He's not sure how long they stand there, but eventually they draw back almost with one mind, just as the embrace began. She wipes at her eyes, looking simultaneously embarrassed and grateful, and turns away abruptly, looking back at the statue of Selune behind them.

"What's next?" he asks softly, taking a step back and lacing his hands behind his back.

She draws a breath and lets it out slowly. It's still a little shaky, but the deep, heartrending sobs have eased, and she looks calmer for having had the moment of release. "We carry on," she answers. "It's all we can do. I'll... follow in a while. But I think I want to stay here a little longer, firstly. This place isn't familiar, but it's peaceful."

He smiles slightly to himself and nods at her back. After waiting a moment to be sure she has nothing else to say, he turns and walks away, back to camp, leaving her to the Moonmaiden's silent presence.

[h3lfaerie]

HI!!

If you're seeing this, you may have come from AO3 in which case, thank you so SO MUCH for reading my fanfic Path of Alfheim (HTTYD: Hiccup/Reader).

I have put unbelievable amounts of time into the world-building of this fic and I'm really excited to be able to share it with you guys. I have never had a Tumblr page before, so navigating this seems a little scary but so far I've had some guidance and a bit of time to play around with it, so I think we'll be good!

I have gotten some truly heart-warming support on my writing and I've been dying to figure out some way I could interact with you guys more. So here we are!

Some of you may know from the comments under PoA that I am kind of treating this fanfic as a bit of a trial-run for writing and publishing a book. I am going down some very niche rabbit holes. There also may have been a good chunk of inspiration from the God of War games...

I have a TON of content I don't get to share on AO3 in a way that I'd like to. Concept Art, Prompts, Legends, World-building, MAPS (I may have drawn up an entire continent), and a whole ass spread-sheet for the murder mystery I've been devising for the story.

I am heavily inspired by Fantasy Novels. Authors such as Rachel Gillig, Sarah J. Maas, Brandon Sanderson, and Robin Hobb have been my literal life blood recently. And How to Train Your Dragon is a franchise that's been very close to my heart ever since I was a child. And while that love may have turned into some concerning amounts of simping for Hiccup Haddock (because let's be honest, DreamWorks made him unfairly attractive), the plot and the world-building I've devised are, I hope just as enticing as the romance ;)

Path of Alfheim is product of ambition, sheer spite, sleep deprivation and my neurotic brain that came up with the plotline at one random night at 2:22am.

In short, I'm really excited for this ride and I'm beyond grateful to have people joining in along with me. Thank you.

Now, let's all go be deadly assassins <3