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agape-philo-sophia · 6 months ago

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➝ How YOU as ‘Slaves’ Or ‘Cargo’ became Lost At Sea.. Never likely to return - And It’s All Legal. 🚨

“Nothing in this world, nothing, works the way you think it does. There’s always more to the story.” – Jordan Maxwell

“The SEA gave up its dead, and death and the grave gave up their dead. And all were judged according to their deeds.” —Revelation 20:13

“Your dead will live; Their CORPses will rise. You who lie in the dust, awake and shout for joy, For your DEW is as the DEW of the dawn, And the earth will give BIRTH to the departed spirits.” —Isaiah 26:19

Banking/”Government”

“All of the perplexities, confusion, and distress in America arises, not from the defects of the Constitution or Confederation, not from want of honor or virtue, so much as from downright ignorance of the nature of coin, credit and circulation.” – President John Adams

“It is well enough that people of the nation do not understand our banking and monetary system, for if they did, I believe there would be a revolution before tomorrow morning.” – Henry Ford

“And I sincerely believe, with you, that banking establishments are more dangerous than standing armies; and that the principle of spending money to be paid by posterity, under the name of funding, is but swindling futurity on a large scale.” – President Thomas Jefferson

“Since I entered politics, I have chiefly had men’s views confided to me privately. Some of the biggest men in the U.S., in the field of commerce and manufacturing, are afraid of somebody, are afraid of something. They know that there is a power somewhere so organized, so subtle, so watchful, so interlocked, so complete, so pervasive, that they had better not speak above their breath when they speak in condemnation of it.” – President Woodrow Wilson

“There exists a shadowy government with its own Air Force, its own Navy, its own fundraising mechanism, and the ability to pursue its own ideas of national interest, free from all checks and balances, and free from the law itself.” – Senator Daniel Inouye

“The real truth of the matter is, as you and I know, that a financial element in the large centers has owned the government of the U.S. since the days of Andrew Jackson.” – President Franklin D. Roosevelt

“In the United States today, we have two governments. We have the duly constituted government and then we have the independent, uncontrolled and uncoordinated government in the Federal Reserve System operating the money powers which are reserved for Congress by the Constitution.” – Rep. Wright Patman

“Whoever controls the volume of money in any country is absolute master of all industry and commerce.” – President James A. Garfield

“History records that the money changers have used every form of abuse, intrigue, deceit, and violent means possible to maintain their control over governments by controlling money and its issuance.” – President James Madison

“Let me issue and control a nation’s money and I care not who writes the laws.” – Mayer Amschel Rothschild

“The powers of financial capitalism had a far-reaching plan, nothing less than to create a world system of financial control in private hands able to dominate the political system of each country and the economy of the world as a whole… Their secret is that they have annexed from governments, monarchies, and republics the power to create the world’s money…” – Prof. Carroll Quigley

“Banking was conceived in iniquity and was born in sin. The bankers own the earth.” – Sir Josiah Stamp, Director of the Bank of England

“Most Americans have no real understanding of the operation of the international money lenders. The accounts of the Federal Reserve System have never been audited. It operates outside the control of Congress and manipulates the credit of the United States.” – Sen. Barry Goldwater

“We have in this country one of the most corrupt institutions the world has ever known. I refer to the Federal Reserve Board and the Federal Reserve Banks. Some people think the Federal Reserve Banks are U.S. Government institutions. They are not government institutions. They are private credit monopolies; domestic swindlers, rich and predatory money lenders which prey upon the people of the United States for the benefit of themselves and their foreign customers. The Federal Reserve Banks are the agents of the foreign central banks. The truth is the Federal Reserve Board has usurped the Government of the United States by the arrogant credit monopoly which operates the Federal Reserve Board.” – Congressman Louis T. McFadden, Chairman of the House Banking & Currency Committee

“This Act establishes the most gigantic trust on earth…When the President signs this Act, the invisible government by the money power, proven to exist by the Money Trust Investigation, will be legalized…The new law will create inflation whenever the trust wants inflation…From now on, depressions will be scientifically created.” – Congressman Charles A. Lindbergh, on creation of Federal Reserve, 1913

“Equality of opportunity is dying in an era when central banks are gaming the global economy.” – Ray Dalio, Founder Of World’s Largest Hedge Fund

“The Bank of England was incorporated on July 27, 1694, as a private joint-stock association, with a capital of £1.2 million. In return for the loan of its entire capital to the government it received the right to issue notes and a monopoly on corporate banking in England. Of course they only lent the principal so the interest would keep accumulating by compound interest. Since the loans could NEVER be repayed the moneylenders had complete control of the government and people.” – Secrets of the Bank of Rome

The King of England financially backed both sides of the Revolutionary War. – Treaty of Versailles- July 16, 1782 Treaty of Peace 8 Stat 80

“The Colonies would gladly have borne the little tax on tea and other matters had it not been the poverty caused by the bad influence of the English bankers on the Parliament, which has caused in the Colonies hatred of England and the Revolutionary War.” – Benjamin Franklin

“If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their money, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them, will deprive the people of their property until their children will wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered… The issuing power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to whom it properly belongs.” – President Thomas Jefferson

The IRS is not a US government agency. It is an agency of the IMF, which is an agency of the United Nation. – Black Law’s Dictionary 6th Ed. pg 816. The US has not had a treasury since 1921 – 41 Stat. Ch. 214 pg 654. The US treasury is now the IMF – Presidential Documents Volume 29 – No. 4 page 113, 22 USC 285-288.

The FCC, CIA, FBI, NASA and all of the other alphabet gangs were never part of the US government. Even though the “US Government” held stock in the various agencies. – US v Strang, 245 US 491 + Lewis v. US, 680 F.2d, 1239

SSN’s are issued by the UN through the IMF. The IMF issues the SS5, not the Social Security Admin. – 20 CFR Chap. 111 Subpart B 422.103 (b)

Voluntary Servitude

“A nation or world of people, who will not use their intelligence, are no better than animals that do not have intelligence; such people are beasts of burden and steaks on the table by choice and consent.” – William Cooper

In 1302 Pope Boniface VIII issued the papal bull Unam sanctam which states “It is absolutely necessary for salvation that every human creature be subject to the Roman Pontiff.” They control the CIA, Homeland Security & The Council on Foreign Relations. The Pope can abolish any law in the United States. “The 1st Cestui Que Vie Trust, created when a child is born, deprives us of all beneficial entitlements and rights on the land. This Bull had the effect of conveying the right of use of the land as Real Property, from the Express Trust Unam Sanctam, to the control of the Pontiff and his successors in perpetuity. Hence, all land is claimed as “crown land.” – Stop The Pirates

“The word “common” was created from the combination of two ancient pre-Vatican Latin words com/comitto – “to entrust, commit” and munis – “burden, public duty, service or obligation”. In other words, the real meaning of common is the concept of “voluntary servitude” or simply “voluntary enslavement.” – Frank M. Webb

The word service originates the Latin servus for servant or slave.

“The attorney’s first duty is to the courts and the public, not to the client, and wherever the duties to his client conflict with those he owes as an officer of the court in the administration of justice, the former must yield to the latter. “Clients (You) are called “wards of the court” in regard to their relationship with their attorneys.” – Corupus Juris Secundum According to Black Law Dictionary “Wards of court.” are “Infants and persons of unsound mind.” You cannot be in wardship status in a court and execute authority. + picture. It is not the duty of the police to protect you. Their job is to protect THE CORPORATION and arrest code breakers. – Sapp vs. Tallahassee, 348 80. 2nd. 363, Reiff vs. City of Phila. 477 F.Supp. 1262, Lynch vs. NC Dept. of Justice 376 8.13. 2nd. 247

“There will be, in the next generation or so, a pharmacological method of making people love their servitude, and producing dictatorship without tears, so to speak, producing a kind of painless concentration camp for entire societies, so that people will in fact have their liberties taken away from them, but will rather enjoy it, because they will be distracted from any desire to rebel by propaganda or brainwashing, or brainwashing enhanced by pharmacological methods. And this seems to be the final revolution” – Aldous Huxley

“It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” – J. Krishnamurti

“The real hopeless victims of mental illness are to be found among those who appear to be most normal. “Many of them are normal because they are so well adjusted to our mode of existence, because their human voice has been silenced so early in their lives, that they do not even struggle or suffer or develop symptoms as the neurotic does.” They are normal not in what may be called the absolute sense of the word; they are normal only in relation to a profoundly abnormal society. Their perfect adjustment to that abnormal society is a measure of their mental sickness. These millions of abnormally normal people, living without fuss in a society to which, if they were fully human beings, they ought not to be adjusted.” – Aldous Huxley

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Maritime Law

Before the emergence of Common Law, we were all subject to Canon Law of the Roman Cult, also known as the Law of the Sea (counterpart to maritime law.) The Law of the Sea is banking law. It is international by nature.

“We can’t even begin to count the number of times Judges, Lawyers and statesmen have said: “There isn’t any common law anymore. It has been replaced by statutes.” They would be more truthful if they said: “It has been replaced by martial law.” – Supreme Court Judge A.H. Ellett. There are No Judicial courts in America and have not been since 1789. Judges do not enforce Statutes and Codes. Executive Administrators enforce Statutes and Codes. – PRC v. GE 281 US 464 Keller v. PE 261 US 428, 1 Stat. 138-178

“A place, district, or country occupied by an enemy stands, in consequence of the occupation, under the Martial Law of the invading or occupying army, whether any proclamation declaring Martial law, or any public warning to the inhabitants, has been issued or not. Martial Law is the immediate and direct effect and consequence of occupation or conquest. The presence of a hostile army proclaims its Martial Law. ” – Article 1, Lieber Code. Check out r/EndlessWar

“The United States Revenue Cutter Service, officially the Division of Revenue Cutter Service, was established in 1790 as the Revenue-Marine by then-Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton, to serve as an armed maritime law enforcement service.” Their logo is the same used on US currency.

The Law of the Flag is used to designate the rights under which a ship owner, who sends his vessel into a foreign port, intends to contract. If you enter an embassy, you will be subject to the laws of that country, just as if you board a ship flying a foreign flag, you will be subject to the laws of that flag, enforceable by the “master of the ship,” (Captain), by the law of the flag. The judge sitting under a gold or yellow fringe flag is the “captain” or “master” of that ship or enclave and he has absolute power to make the rules as he goes. The judges are appointed because the courts are military courts and civilians do not “elect” military officers. Flags displayed in the courtroom with gold braid and fringe means it’s an admiralty court that administers the law of commerce. – Ref.: Ruhstrat v. People, 57 N.E. 41

It’s all commerce. Witnesses in court testify in the dock and your case is placed in a docket. Witnesses are vessels. We use words like currency (current,) cash flow, liquid asset, banking, drowning in debt, bank accounts can can dry up, or be frozen. We all try to stay afloat. We may ask a Loan shark for help. When you place your home on the real estate market; you are putting it up for sale/sail. When a product leaves a warehouse, it is shipped. Citizen-ship, Partner-ship, Owner-ship, Relation-ship. The gate between you and a judge is a floodgate. On top of it is a bar (sandbar.) You haven’t been licensed to pass the bar (exam.) This is why they call going before the judge being in deep water. You’re passing the sand bar into deep water. You will need to be legally bailed out. To bail out means to “remove water from a ship.”

They are criminals engaged in press-ganging land assets into the international jurisdiction of the sea. What we are dealing with are governmental services corporations – not our lawful government. They are merely claiming to “represent” our government. Every living American has more civil authority on the land jurisdiction of the Continental United States than the entire Federal United States government. It’s time that we exercised that inherent power and put an end to this gross criminality, fraud, and usurpation by our “public servants.” – Anna von Reitz

“The 3rd Cestui Que Vie Trust, created when a child is baptized. It is the parents’ grant of the Baptismal certificate––title to the soul––to the church or Registrar. Thus, without legal title over one’s own soul, we will be denied legal standing and will be treated as things––cargo without souls––upon which the BAR is now legally able to enforce Maritime law.”

Birth certificates

Under Maritime law, when a ship pulls into a port, it is considered to be “in it’s berth. When a ship berths in a port or dock, the captain has to provide a berth certificate (passenger manifest.) This is why all ships are referred to as female. When you are born, you come through your Mother’s birth/berth canal through water. Now you too must provide a birth/berth certificate.

“Since the 1540 creation of the 1st Cestui Que Act, whenever a Baptismal Certificate is issued, the parents have gifted, granted and conveyed the soul of the baby to a “3rd” Cestui Que Vie Trust owner by Roman Cult … This live birth record as a promissory note is converted into a slave bond sold to the private reserve bank of the estate and then conveyed into a 2nd and separate Cestui Que (Vie.) Trust per child owned by the bank. Upon the promissory note reaching maturity and the bank being unable to “seize” the slave child, a maritime lien is lawfully issued to “salvage” the lost property and itself monetized as currency issued in series against the Cestui Que (Vie) Trust.” – Frank M. Webb “The 2nd cestui Que Vie Trust, created when a child is born and, by the sale of the birth certificate as a Bond to the private central bank of the nation, depriving us of ownership of our flesh and condemning us to perpetual servitude, as a Roman person, or slave. When a mother signs a registration of live birth she is actually abandoning the child under maritime Admiralty Law.”

“In 1933 the US went bankrupt. Central bankers said we have a way for you to conduct commerce, pledge citizens as collateral. Since the early 1960′s State governments, themselves legal fictions as indicated by full caps, have issued birth certificates to “persons” using all-caps names. This isn’t a record of your physical birth, but a legal fiction indicated by the use of all-caps. It may look as if it’s your proper name, but that’s impossible since no proper name is ever written in all-caps. Your “strawmans” life and property have been pledged as collateral for government debt. Each one of us are considered assets of the bankrupt US. We are designated by this government as human “resources” or human “capital.“ – Executive Order 13037. You may have noticed that all “personnel” offices have been converted to “human resource” offices.”

“The all-caps fictitious corporate entity is then placed into a “trust”, known as a “Cestui Que Trust”. Trust in the form of a Registry Number by registering the Name, thereby also creating the Corporate Person and denying the child any rights as an owner of Real Property. You are identifying as a corporation existing in the jurisdiction of corporate law. This makes you liable for any violations of corporate code. The system created the trust, and the system can dictate EXACTLY how that trust must perform, or it will suffer penalties.” – Frank M. Webb The Birth Certificate is the government’s created legal instrument for its legal title of ownership, or deed, to the personal legal fiction they have created. – Stop The Pirates. The 13 original colonies were called companies and the United States Is a Corporation. They are using a language you were not taught against you constantly. Mort (Mortgage) is derived from the word death. You are considered a legally dead, fictitious entity.

“Don’t let this information alarm you because without it you cannot be free. You have to Understand that all slavery and freedom originates in the mind. When you mind allows you to accept and understand that the United States, Great Britain and the Vatican are corporations which are nothing but fictional entities which have been placed in your mind, you will understand our slavery is because we believe in fictions.” – Stephen Ames, The Ultimate Delusion

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mcwscollective · 2 years ago

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The hand dropping on to his shoulder made him flinch, although he couldn't tell if it was from still being stunned or from it being such a new gesture to him. Sure, he'd seen it happen between other people, but he had never been the touchy type with his parents... and he preferred that Hanma didn't touch him either. To be completely honest, he wasn't sure if he even wanted Mikey touching him, but it hadn't been such a horrible sensation; just new and surprising.

On Mikey's bike? With him? The only bike he'd ever been on was Hanma's, but this was nothing like that time. It wasn't Mikey taking him somewhere he needed to go. It wasn't Tetta telling him to take him somewhere. It was so casual... so... There wasn't a word to describe what it was anywhere in Tetta's extensive vocabulary bank. Again, the only thing that could describe it was new. He wasn't sure how he should feel about any of it.

A soft sound of agreement was let out before he could make up his mind, and he felt himself following after Mikey as if on autopilot. It wasn't that he didn't want to go with him, he just didn't know what the hell had happened between the time he'd been kicked out and the exact moment that Mikey had invited him to go for a ride with him. It was as confusing a moment as when Hinata had fixed his collar and buttons for him that one time. Those little hints of kindness were damning.

He was helpless in the face of gentleness and genuine friendly treatment. No matter how much he tried to see through the non-existent 'act,' he couldn't pick apart Mikey's offer. It had been too real; too sincere and too warm. There were no falsities that surrounded the way the other had reacted to his confessions. It was unsettling to Tetta, who lived in a world shrouded in lies, manipulation, and forced concern for those that he couldn't care less about.

He had nothing to offer Mikey just then that Mikey couldn't have gotten elsewhere, and yet...

"Thank you," Tetta muttered under his breath as he mounted the bike, feeling his cheeks warming under the weight of those words on his tongue. He took to fussing with his glasses in an effort to hide any effects it may have had on his face, not wanting anyone (especially not Mikey) to notice any signs of distress or... whatever it was making his heart beat faster than usual. However, the realization of what it would look like for the two of them to share a ride set off alarm bells as it finally sank in.

"I'll tell you if we get too close to my street." Even Hanma had to use the back entrance to his home when he stopped by to crash for the night, and drop him off (or pick him up) at the end of the street when they were going somewhere together. Anything in the front and his father probably would have had something to say about it. "I need you to stay as far away from it as possible."

It was refreshing that he was so keenly being listened to. Not that he wasn’t used to it, but somehow he knew that garnering Kisaki’s attention was unique. Helping pull the boy to his feet Mikey watched the change in demeanor. The shock, the uncertainty. This wasn’t the first time Mikey had overwhelmed someone, it wouldn’t be the last, but it was meaningful all the same.

His nature wasn’t inherently manipulative. Mikey’s personality just was. He drew people to him, friend and foe alike found him special and deserving of awe. Yet it was never to deceive or take advantage of others. He was just naturally that way. To know him was to love him.

Still, the look on Kisaki’s face and his speechlessness was adorable. He’d never get tired of seeing people so strong react like that to him. It made him both proud and happy to know he could get through to others like this. To see Kisaki, someone so stubborn and often ill-willed, be taken aback.

Mikey snickered and gave a hard clap on Kisaki’s shoulder. “No. With me.” He giggled. “Don’t need a bike when I’ve got Bub.” Hiking a thumb towards his own ride waiting patiently in the parking lot. Like almost all the higher ups, his bike was capable of comfortably seating two. Though it was usually Mikey riding in tandem with others rather than him offering a ride on his own precious bike.

“Come on. If you say no, I’ll be pissed.” Though the smile on his face indicated otherwise. He let go of the other boy and started walking towards the lot. Mikey was used to being the younger in a group. For Kisaki to be almost two years under him was unusual. But it didn’t matter. Mikey had made up his mind and that was often final. Deciding that once someone was his, they were always his, even if he was the one to remove them.

Kisaki’s pain, his ambition, and his goals. They all belonged to Mikey now and always.

#kyukicho #(c;; kisaki)

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lemonluvgirl · 2 years ago

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Anything

Based on the prompt: could you write a oneshot role reversal where Katniss is kidnapped in the Capitol and this is the everlark reunion scene?

In my opinion its not a real reunion between lovers unless they are both gettting naked! But I can’t just make it a Porn without Plot fic, so...Ok so, here’s the deal. Peeta went on the mission to free the captured victors in the Capitol and took his helmet off when he found Katniss in her cell. She then proceeded to strangle the shit out of him, because she was hijaked, but Boggs stopped her from killing Peeta and they all made it back to District 13. This ‘real’ reunion happens after moths of therapy and everlark fighting their way back through the hijacking.

I find myself staring at him.

Peeta’s full, plush looking lips are tinted a dark pink. I'm perversely proud of how swollen they look from my furious onslaught of kisses. I smile at him, just barely for a second and he gives me a heated but tender look. I flick my gaze away. Those mesmerizing lips of his quirk up at the corners, then he lowers his head past my mouth, skimming down my jaw. His lips are soft and reverent when he uses them to trace the column of my neck.

Gently, feather soft kisses descend on my skin and ignite like live wires sparking and crackling with increasing intensity. Then, his hands, wonderfully callused from all that training, mirror the position of my own, tracing up and down my body. He feels strong and hard under my fingertips. I feel like I could touch him forever and forget about everything else in existence.

There are a million unsaid words he exhales against my skin with each ragged breath he draws across the pulse point in my neck. I wonder how he manages to say so much with just the slight pressure of his hands or his lips?

It's intoxicating and…different. I wonder why his lips feel so different from anyone else's.

More importantly, how can he still want to do this after everything I've done to him? After everything that’s been done to me?

I draw back just enough to look at his expression. I'm startled to find his blue eyes openly staring into me, unguarded and suffused with longing and adoration.

That look makes my breath hitch and my blood sing.

I'm so impatient to have him naked and panting over me, under me, in every way imaginable, that it's unbelievable.

But then of course, I'm certifiable now.

I wonder if he's slightly mad too, or maybe he's just too naive to know when to quit.

He stares back at me, letting me drink my fill of him with my eyes. And slowly, like peeling back layer after layer of false impressions and shiny memories I uncover the truth in his gaze.

He's not insane. Or stupid.

The distress of opening himself up like this again is evident in the crease of his brow, the uncertain tilt of his mouth, the tension in his hands as they shake just slightly while continuing to caress me.

There's an impossibly deep look in his eyes, like a promise or a vow known only to himself. I wonder if he thinks that by coming back again and again he will somehow make up for leaving me to rot in the Capitol for so long.

But the quiet pant of his breath and the wide sincerity in his eyes doesn't speak predominantly of guilt.

He's got that look that Finnick gets when he looks at Annie.

That wonderfully grateful look that silently screams of devotion.

It makes me uncomfortable.

But before I can shift away from him, his lips are back on my neck, and he's breathing soft words into my skin.

"I'm yours,"

"Body and soul."

"Whatever you want, only if you want."

"Anything for you, Katniss."

Even though his lips barely move and his voice is so light I have to strain to catch what he's saying, I hear him just the same. It's not quite an apology, (which is good because I don’t want one) it’s more an overture. Which I can handle infinitely better than a tear soaked 'sorry', and if for only that reason I find myself relaxing into him a little more.

I'm glad, infinitely glad, that he doesn't try to tell me I'm sexy or beautiful, or something like that. Those words would have made me gag after all the times I'd heard them repeated to me in the Capitol.

And he doesn't try to touch my breasts or my ass right away, either.

He just keeps kissing along my collarbone and murmuring how he'll follow my lead.

And it's the best offer I've gotten in a long time. My core throbs, achy and enticed with the idea of a partner eager to give instead of take from me.

Was he always this generous in bed? Or did he only become such an attentive lover in response to what he thought I needed after all I had been through?

I pushed the questions out of my mind and focused on the only thought that mattered.

This is what I wanted right now.

He is what I need.

I don’t need to psychoanalyze his motivations. I just need him to show me why this strange connection we share hasn’t been severed, by time, distance, or even the mad science of the Capitol.

It's with that knowledge that I pull his shirt free from the waistband of his pants, slipping my hands inside and ghosting my fingers over his skin.

He shudders above me. I watch as his thickly muscled arms tremble as they work to keep his body hovering over mine. I know it's not fatigue that's affecting him, but my touch. I pry his shirt off of him and toss it somewhere on the floor. He doesn't blink when I do, but his pupils dilate even further, the pretty blue of his eyes slowly being swallowed up by the black.

It's an effervescent feeling that rises up inside of me, when I realize how much I affect him. I want to revel in it at first and touch every inch of him slowly. But I don't know if it's wise to draw this out. Who knows how long this clarity of need will last?

What I do know is I want to feel the weight of his body over mine. I want it to settle into my bones and I want to taste the moans off his tongue when he slips inside me.

I want to watch his blue eyes grow dark with lust and then roll to the back of his head when he floods me with his warmth.

I want everything he is offering and then some. Because the hazy memories I have aren’t enough.

"Take off my clothes Peeta." I command, in a stern voice. It might sound laughable to someone else, the bossy tone in my voice even though I’m on bottom. But it’s not really a laughing matter for either of us. We will be equals in this no matter who’s physically taking the lead. I can see it in his eyes and I feel it in the way he holds me.

But I must still catch him a little off guard with my boldness.

Peeta’s eyes widen slightly in response and he searches my face for only a moment before he finds the certainty he's looking for.

Then, as if someone has thrown a switch, he's different.

His hands are steady and efficient as they unzip the front of my jumpsuit. He doesn't fumble when he reaches behind me and unclips my bra.

Neither does he hesitate when he unbuttons my pants and drags my underwear down at the same time.

And he doesn't break eye contact with me the entire time. Waiting for me to make the next move.

I love it. His confidence, his patience, the practiced way he undresses me. He’s quick and efficient but not possessive or disrespectful. It’s hot, and I can admit that to myself before I attack him with my mouth again.

I latch onto the spot below his ear, and swirl my tongue in light circles in between kisses before I begin to suck on his slightly salty skin. It's all I can do to not bite down hard, when I inhale the scent and taste that feels so familiar and delicious.

Peeta's breath hitches and he mumbles something incoherent against my hair that sounds like 'I've missed you so much.' Since he seems to be speaking more to himself than me I don't let it phase me. I can do without the emotional declarations. So I kiss him again on the mouth to stop anymore from leaking out.

If he's put off by my one track mind he doesn't show it. He kisses me back with a fervor and passion that makes heat spread through me like colored ink bleeding onto a page.

It's only when my teeth scrape against the large artery in his neck that he reacts adversely for the first time. He stiffens up, as a tremor of fear runs through him. Because of course, even though the bruises have faded, and even though he’s already hard as steel against my thigh, he no doubt remembers the last time I paid so much attention to his neck.

Right before I strangled him.

“Are you scared of me Peeta?” I ask him out of morbid curiosity, between breaths as I continue to lavish his neck with my mouth, albeit slightly more gently and without the scrape of my teeth.

He automatically starts to shake his head, but pauses mid shake.

“A little,” He admits in a breathless voice.

“Hummm,” I murmur vaguely in reply, giving him no assurances or warnings either way. He’s bigger than me, stronger too. But I’ve been training the same as him. Harder and more frequently too, since he spends more time filming propos than practicing his hand to hand combat.

“If you're going to try to kill me, I think I’ll be ready this time.” He adds, as he threads his fingers through the hair at the base of my neck and tugs just a little. I clench my thighs and bite my own tongue to stifle the moan that threatens to slip out and slowly cast my gaze upward until I meet his eyes.

He looks as serious as he sounds. It’s a promise that while he is more than happy to keep getting naked with me, he’s also on alert.

I grin lazily up at him, while deliberately brushing my leg back and forth over his erection, delighting in the tortured groan that springs from deep in his throat.

“Good. That makes two of us.” I tell him with a smirk.

He lowers his head to my shoulder and curses quietly and I continue to rub him through his pants.

“Katniss, I never tried to kill you. You have to know that by now.” He tells me, in a flustered, out of breath tone. I stop stimulating him with my leg and give him a breather.

I chuckle in reply before slipping my hands slowly down his chest and back respectively, feeling every peak and dip, every muscle rippling and tensing as I recommit them to memory. I close my eyes briefly, indulgently.

“There are a lot of things I should know, Peeta. But so many of them get mixed up when you’re near me. You’re like a drug, and I can never quite predict the side effects you’ll bring with you after the first hit. Sometimes it's an unbelievable almost unending high. Sometimes it's terrible, stress filled paranoia. Sometimes it’s painful lows that drag me into endless waking nightmares. But always, it's intense. And no matter how broken I feel afterwards, you still leave me craving more.” I admit.

I feel his strong arms tighten around me, and he emits a soft mournful sound.

I’m glad that at that moment I can’t see his face.

I don’t think I’d like what I would find.

So instead of searching his expression I reach between our bodies and unzip his pants. His fingers dig into my skin, and his tightened grip only serves to spur me on.

I don’t want to stop. In fact I don’t think I could at this point even if I wanted to.

I think it's the same for Peeta, because even though he doesn't help me remove the rest of his clothes at first, he does nothing to impede me.

After I push his pants and underwear down over his ankles, he kicks them the rest of the way off. We’re both naked now, but he still holds himself gingerly over me, not quite touching.

He sucks in a huge breath and finally looks at me. His eyes sweep up and down my body slowly and I allow him his time.

I stare back at him unapologetically as well. My gaze linger over his well toned stomach, his trim hips, and his thick cock that bobs in the empty gap between our bodies, pointed like an arrow at me. I lick my lips in anticipation but when I look back at Peeta he seems withdrawn from the immediacy of the moment.

“I wish it could be different. I wish there was a way I could wipe away all the fear between us.” He whispers as he tucks a loose tendril of hair behind my ear.

I stare up at him, unblinking.

I don’t think it needs to be said that I wish for the same thing. I’m sure that’s obvious.

But I know I have to say something.

“No one else's hands can make me forget the bad memories like yours can.” I tell him quietly.

He gives me an unreadable look. I think he’s trying not to show how sad or happy that makes him. I know I shouldn’t be irritated by this, but I am. I don’t want his pity, if that’s what this is.

He notices my mouth tipping down into a scowl almost immediately, and mumbles a shaky ‘sorry’, before his mouth descends to kiss the frown off my lips.

Everything else is forgotten, and it's just him invading everyone of my senses.

Taste first.

His lips are clean and sweet, washing away the memory of rough mouths that tasted stale and bitter like too much alcohol and something rotten underneath the lingering traces of decadent Capitol delicacies. With each swipe of his tongue against mine he paints a different picture, of something pure and pristine.

Smell next.

The sweet and spicy aroma of his skin intermingled with the light sheen of sweat condensing on both our bodies makes me feel dizzy with pleasure. It's such an eroticly familiar smell. I’m so wet, and getting wetter by the second that I can distinguish the light scent of my own arousal that is slowly perfuming the room with its headiness. There’s also a small amount of fluid that must be leaking from his tip, that I can smell him too and I revel in the knowledge that our scents will ultimately combine to create something unique that is all our own.

Hearing directly after that.

Peeta groans so long and low when my scent hits him, that I feel it rolling through my core like thunder. He inhales deeply, like I’m an aphrodisiac. He hardens even further, and seemingly can’t help rocking his hips into mine, his erection dragging hot and hard over my naked skin. A small whimper escapes my throat at the thought of him being so turned on. I claw at his skin, trying to get him closer, as close as I can.

Then touch.

He lowers himself over me until his strong chest touches mine, and the nearly invisible blond hairs on his chest brush against my beasts and tease my hardened nipples into harder peaks, making me gasp and urging me to rub up against him like a cat. The planes of his torso fit perfectly against my diminutive curves and I get the feeling we fit better together than most. I hook a leg behind his right thigh, the one made completely of flesh and close my eyes to enjoy the building tension and pleasure at every point where our bare skin meets. With my other hand I reach down and caress what remains of his left thigh, dragging my blunt nails lightly over his stump and enjoying the feeling of his coarse leg hair. He doesn’t flinch, just allows me to caress him thoroughly. I toy with the idea of taking him in my hand and pumping him for a while, anticipating the velvety texture of the soft skin of his cock over the beautiful hardness it conceals. But I refrain, worried that he might get too worked up. I certainly feel overstimulated and we’ve barely done anything yet.

Finally sight is the last.

We both open our eyes to look at each other and I know he can read my silent request for him to skip the rest of the foreplay. I want him now, and I don’t want to wait to feel him filling me up. He holds my gaze for what seems like an endless moment.

He’s amazingly focused as he looks down at me, hair golden and tousled from my wandering hands. I have a small flash of memory of him years younger, being backlit by a flaming cape and headdress while a crowd roars around us instead of the weak light from the overhead fluorescents and the silence that’s only broken by our ragged breathing now.

But in my memory he’s looking at me the exact same way he is presently, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The memory fades, and I don’t try to catch it, preferring instead to live completely in the here and now.

I suck in a breath before I lift my hand to trace the seductive outline of his lips lazily with the tip of my finger. He mirrors my actions by brushing his thumbs in circles over the tips of my breasts. Twin bolts of pleasure shoot down my body and pool in my core, swirling and tightening all at once.

“Don’t make me wait any longer.” I tell him as I exhale and close my eyes for a second before opening them again. He blinks at me, those impossibly darkened blue eyes inviting me to drown inside their beautiful fathomless depths.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over his eyes. They entrance me. Especially after the hijacking. Looking headlong into them leaves me feeling like I’m staring over the edge of a great precipice. It's wonderful, frightening, and maddening all at once. For a moment I feel like a fly caught in amber, trapped within his hypnotic gaze.

And it's only when his lips simultaneously capture mine at the same moment he pushes inside me that I feel like I can breathe again.

“Fuck!” My shout is almost immediately stifled by his mouth, and my eyes tilt up to the ceiling of their own volition. He groans against my lips and twitches inside me and it makes my clench around him. He breaks our kiss and hisses my name, in a mixture of pleasure and strained warning. His eyes are screwed adorably shut in an expressoin that screams of tortured pleasure. All I can do is kiss it off his softly trembling lips.

“Oh Peeta…..” I whisper, reveling in the quiet satisfaction I feel. My voice trails off as he presses his forehead against mine and briefly opens and closes his eyes against the raptourus sensation of finally uniting himself with me. He’s bigger than I anticipated and I feel wonderfully, perfectly stretched. He holds off on moving though until he feels me relax completely. His teeth gritted and his eyelashes that go on forever fluttering while he waits.

It feels like the universe is holding its breath along with me.

He draws a shaky breath and retreats an inch or two.

Then he sinks into me again, and I’m as lost in him as he seems in me.

And we’re burning, meeting, yielding, and combining in between each breath.

My hands are everywhere, his shoulders, his back, his hips, and his ass as he moves in a deliberately slow and steady pattern where he alternates grinding his hips into me and thrusting deeply.

I can’t fight the noises that escape me, soft and high and desperate as I lift my hips to meet him.

And words tumble from his mouth. Confessions, adorations, and praise that’s so earnest and sincere that it rips away any pretense I have of guarding myself against his captivatingly open heart.

I rush headlong into the all encompassing feeling of him worshiping me with his own body. And I can’t help but respond in kind. I comb my fingers through his hair as I kiss along his neck tenderly, trailing my tongue along his skin and nibbling on his soft earlobe. The strained sounds of pleasure he makes when I do are almost as satisfying as the feeling of him filling me over and over again.

I moan his name while I arch against him, inviting him deeper, welcoming him to touch and fill me as deeply as I can stand.

This kicks him into overdrive and he shifts my legs forward until I’m tilted at a different angle, breaking my mouth’s contact with his neck, before he begins driving into me with abandon, my name punctuating every thrust. It's just what I need, and after only about a minute I come hard, sharp and bursting, unable to even scream his name. All I can do is squeeze him inside and out, my muscles clenching around his hard length and my hands grabbing his thighs for dear life.

Once the euphoria begins to subside, I stutter out his name and he licks his way into my mouth, drinking the blissful pleasure off my tongue, as if my orgasm was a shot of liquid adrenaline that energized him further.

From the way he pulls me up, quick as lightning, into a sitting position on his lap as he moves me bodily up and down his cock, it might as well have been. He knows exactly what he’s doing. I can see it in the serious and determined look in his eyes. I can feel it in the powerful flex of his legs and hips as he pumps into me expertly. My thighs tremble and I can feel my mouth quivering as I stare at him wide-eyed and caught off guard.

He knows me and what I like. He remembers everything apparently. He reads my expression and the signs my body gives off as easily as a child reading from their favorite book that they have lovingly memorized.

It takes just seconds for me to come again in this new position, and he rides out the waves with me with a joyfulness that makes me forget absolutely everything but his steadiness and his sweet tenderness underneath the power and strength he keeps humbly in check.

It’s such a contradiction to the venom tainted lies that the Capitol force fed me.

His hands affirm every secret pleasure that only an experienced lover could remember, and it doesn’t feel cheap or tawdry when he palms the cheeks of my ass, or when his mouth dips to suck one of my nipples in between his lips.

It feels exquisite.

I feel exquisite.

I cling to him like he’s the only anchor I have in this seemingly endless sea of pleasure as he rewrites so many ideas I had of what sex between us was supposed to feel like. He holds onto me just as tightly, as if he never wants to let go. We fuse together until there’s no way to distinguish us as separate entities. My hands gripped his closely shorn hair and my breath came hard and fast against his ear as he increased his tempo, giving it his all, while our sweat slicked bodies slid against each other in a frantic push and pull that hurdled both of us towards a brilliant end.

“I’m close.” He says between gritted teeth, as his hands struggle to find purchase on my slippery skin. I dig my knees into the threadbare mattress and wordlessly throw myself into his pounding rhythm wholeheartedly, rising and sinking with him.

“You feel so-” He tries to say, but shakes his head, drops of perspiration scattering as he does so. I merely nod. He doesn’t have to explain, I know what he means.

“Please,” He whispers entreatingly against my shoulder, and it’s all I need.

I feel myself splinter into a thousand little pieces filled with sharp, bursting pleasure. Distantly I hear myself screaming his name.

His hips snap against me, all instinct now as I pull him along with me, catching him up in the undertow of my climax.

He comes with a startled cry, burying himself impossibly deep inside me. I feel every throbbing inch of him emptying hotly into me and for a single blissful moment the entire world feels good and right and clear while we fell apart together.

We fall backwards until my back hits the bed and his considerable weight settles on me heavily. He’s uncomfortably heavy but I savor the solidness of him pressing me down into the mattress. It feels like he’s the only thing keeping me from floating away.

I gently comb my fingers through his short hair as I try to recover. My touch seems to revive him, or remind him, and he eases some of his weight off me, by supporting himself on his elbows.

We stayed like that for several seconds, just trying to regain our equilibrium.

“Was it always that good?” I ask him, more out of curiosity than a real need to know. I had a feeling I already knew what the answer was.

He’s quiet for a few beats, and when he speaks it is in a reverent tone.

“It was for me.” He whispers, and exhales a long breath, “I think, it was good for you too. At least it always seemed that way.” He concludes before looking up into my eyes.

I released a long held breath and nodded before returning to play with his hair.

“I think you’re right.” I finally say before closing my eyes and letting sleep begin to claim me. I miss his reply, if he even gave one, and only frowned slightly when I felt him slip out of me, having grown too soft to remain.

My last conscious thought was of how I missed the feeling of him already.

#everlark #thg #fanfiction #lemonluvwrites #smut #hijacked smut?#role reversal au #hijacked katniss #mockingjay reunion #sexy time

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 3 years ago

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Your belief system that leans so aggressively into the fact that there can be no deity is as much a religion as people who do believe in deities, and is equally, if not more, absurd and pretentious

LOL. Let's try something.

"Your belief system that leans so aggressively into the fact that there can be no unicorns is as much a religion as people who do believe in unicorns, and is equally, if not more, absurd and pretentious."

"Your belief system that leans so aggressively into the fact that there can be no dragons is as much a religion as people who do believe in dragons, and is equally, if not more, absurd and pretentious."

"Your belief system that leans so aggressively into the fact that there can be no banshees is as much a religion as people who do believe in banshees, and is equally, if not more, absurd and pretentious."

Do you see how completely idiotic your statement is? Unicorn belief is not on par with - let alone more absurd than - unicorn non-belief.

It'a up to you to prove the existence of your particular thing, whatever it is. It's not my fault when you won't - and can't - prove it. And it's not up to me to disprove what has never been proven.

Nor is my fault when believers describe gods in ways, and attribute qualities to them, that are inherently self-refuting and self-contradictory.

Such as both inscrutable ("mysterious ways") and "good." "Perfect" and needing worship. "Real" and undetectable, imperceptible and beyond human perception in this reality. Changeless with a "new covenant." All-knowing and endowing free will. Pretty much all the "omni" attributes, really.

For example, an “all-knowing” god must necessarily know what it’s like to be an animal in the wilderness who hasn’t eaten in a week. It must also necessarily know what it’s like to be the prey that it finally discovers and rips to shreds desperate to eat. It must necessarily know what it’s like to be a baby dying painfully of the cancer that it gave. And it must necessarily know what it’s like to be the parents who watch their child die. It must necessarily know what it’s like to be both rapist and raped, murderer and murdered. It must know what it feels like to lust after a child, to plan and action raping them in the rectory. It must know what it feels like to be the child raped by that priest, the panic, fear, pain distress, trauma and shame. It must know what it feels like to enjoy murdering, torturing and tormenting others. It must know what it feels like to be Hitler and crave the extermination of the Jews. It must know what it feels like to be so desperate for help, for a sign, and wondering why your prayers go unanswered. It must know what it feels like to be in such loneliness and despair as to want to end your own life. It must know what it feels like to be a non-believer and sincerely see no reason any of these gods are true. Because it knows everything. Otherwise, it can’t be “all-knowing.”

To describe an “all-knowing” god as “good” is therefore contradictory. If you’re going to describe its morality as beyond human conception, then you can’t claim that you, a human, can conceive it as good.

All of this is describing a "married bachelor." You’re welcome to try and call this a “strawman” if you like, but you and I both know that “good” and “all-knowing” are trivially consistent claims of god-believers, and “mysterious ways” or some formulation thereof, is a consistent apologetic for why it makes no sense.

It’s entirely the failure of the believer to understand what words mean and accurately convey the nature of the god that is supposedly a true, real and existent thing. It’s not my fault when believers can’t get any of this straight.

My reaction to the various gods is the result exclusively of your own failures, not mine.

Faith - "strong belief in God or in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof" - is not a sufficient basis to believe anything.

Especially when it's the only justification offered for things claimed to be real and true, but can't be found found, shown, demonstrated, detected, or even described coherently.

If you deem my standard of "not completely incoherent" before accepting something as "true" to be too high a standard - and lets notice that we haven't even gotten anywhere near any "proof" - then you need to consider why. And reflect on whether the problem isn't that my standards are too high, but why yours are so damn low. And need to resort to faith to sustain them at all.

If you find that “pretentious,” well, I will happily live with that.

If you want to convince me of any of the gods, then give it a shot. But you’ll need to start with what nobody else seems to be able to do: have it actually make sense.

#ask #self refuting #self contradictory #faith #faith is not a virtue #religion #religion is a mental illness

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kodzumie-archived · 4 years ago

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can i please get a nsfw yandere nagito with a fem or gn s/o that involves overstimulation/multiple orgasms? i love ur writing so far 💖💕💗💓 tysm

❝COVETOUSNESS❞

Synopsis; Humans are selfish to their very core; their fundamentals. Yet is he truly selfish if he merely wants to serve you?

Featuring; Nagito Komaeda x Fem! Reader

Warning(s); Yandere themes, nonconsensual, sacrilege, breaking and entering, somnophilia, fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, mentions of feeling like vomiting (distress), overstimulation, and hintings of forced pregnancy.

Kodzumie’s Note; Thank you for your support and kind words! Though I sincerely apologize if this isn’t what you had in mind when requesting. This piece turned out very dark and included a lot of triggering topics. If you don’t like how it turned out, please tell me! I’ll rewrite it just for you, love. Take care of yourself, okay? Muah <3

➤ NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ Humans—to their very core—are selfish. They yearn for what they can’t attain; for what they shouldn’t possess. Human instinct is derived from bitter selfishness, a desire to take, take, take until they’ve withdrawn everything.

⤷ No matter Nagito’s constant resistance of such instincts, even he succumbs. Selfishness—uncontrollable avarice—is merely the fundamentals of humanity’s existence.

⤷ Despite how pitifully minor Nagito views his worth to be; how little he views his purpose to be; he’s still human.

⤷ And with being human comes an animalistic drive. An uncontainable urge to tear into all that he yearns, to take what it is he lusts after.

⤷ Even as months pass, his livid attempts to suppress the temptations and submit himself under your guide; your hope; your will. He swears to himself that he merely wants to serve you.

⤷ His disillusionment riddled with fixation leads his mind astray, and perhaps that’s why he found himself perched outside your bedroom window, peering in through the crack of your curtain.

⤷ He’s aware that someone as worthless as him shouldn’t dare think of tainting your ethereal, divine figure with his touch. But his delusional ideals muddle his thoughts until he, himself, compromises to string along his yearning as well as his allegiance towards you.

⤷ It’s a complicated urge; a lustful temptation fueled by his innermost greed. Yet isn’t this another way to serve you? To bring forth your pleasure and watch you squirm in ecstasy? Isn’t this what it means to serve?

⤷ Too far gone within his ambitions of pleasing his beloved hope—his god—his fingers trail along the underside of your bedroom window, tracing over the sill with his fingertips.

⤷ Yes, yes. The desire to ensure your pleasure was nothing more than his strive to serve you. Even as he knew someone scum like him have no business laying their grimy touch upon you, his fundamental, humanistic avarice distorted his belief; it’s not about his pleasure, it’s about yours.

⤷ Thus he repeated these words within the feverish, compulsive capsule of his mind as he tugged at the window, gently as to not disturb your rest; he wouldn’t dare want to bother you.

⤷ A click resonated within the nighttime air and Nagito’s lips curled to an eerie smile; just his luck, the window was left unlocked.

⤷ With a singular, fluid motion, Nagito managed to open the window to its fullest; granting himself entrance within your abode.

⤷ He almost didn’t enter, too far flustered at the fact that he was about to enter within the encompass of your heavenly presence; your sacred home. Surely trash like him wasn’t welcome within the personal realms of his beloved hope. But the endeavor of humanistic covetousness is not to be underestimated.

⤷ As he pushes through, entering with a reluctant hop, a thump echoes against the walls of your bedroom. Yet it seems that his luck was abundant that night, you hadn’t even stirred within your rest.

⤷ It was within that moment that Nagito’s breathing grew erratic; unstable. Huffing jagged breaths as he admired your sleeping form with an all-too-prominent blush coating his cheeks.

⤷ You appeared so delicate from within this close—no, intimate—proximity. Having spent months watching you from meters distance, this length felt almost forbidden; sinful.

⤷ It’s evident as though being this close to you was sinful itself. He knew all too well that scum like him shouldn’t dare approach you; shouldn’t dare go near; he wasn’t worthy of your divine presence. He knows, he knows, he knows.

⤷ Yet that doesn’t stop his footsteps as he hovers over you, taking a closer peek at your visage in which was doused with the indications of slumber.

⤷ He was mere feet away from you, and that thought alone sent blood to his already flushed cheeks and straight down to where his pants began to strain; an erotic euphoria bubbling within his gut as he released a giddy giggle.

⤷ There you were, there you were. As he gently brushed the back of his hand against your cheek, his knuckles nuzzling against the plush skin, he stuttered out a breathless moan. You were there, he could feel you.

⤷ And that realization—alone—was what cut the ropes; detaching Nagito from what was left of his morality as he climbed over your dormant body, straddling your hips.

⤷ Picking at the fruit of his desires, fingers clasping over the hem of your blanket, ready to reveal your heavenly figure to his ravishing eyes.

⤷ Nagito lost his external awareness, unable to decipher if the beating of his heart and the rapid, heavy breathing escaping his lips was even his own. Instead, his attention remained glued to you; to your divinity; to your ethereal, unconscious countenance.

⤷ It almost felt unreal, as though that very moment was nothing more than a merciless dream to torture his unattainable wishes and prove to him just how pathetic he was; how greedy scum like him can be.

⤷ But as he rocked his hips—grinding his clothed erection against your blanketed form—all his fears of this moment being nothing more than a dream had dispersed.

⤷ This pleasure was real. And it felt so, so imprudent. He should feel ashamed, and he did. He felt such an unfathomable amount of ignominy; his existence culminated to a mere disgrace.

⤷ Somewhere within his mind—somewhere tucked far within the depths of his disillusioned, fixated mind—he knows what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he doesn’t deserve to touch you like this. He knows putting his grimy hands on you is criminal. But his thoughts are clouded, and he no longer fucking cares.

⤷ The rocking of his hips jolts to a hault as he shakes his head, dismissing his own undeserving pleasure. This wasn’t about him, this was about you; relinquishing in your pleasure, fulfilling his role to serve you.

⤷ And thus, he discards your blanket, soaking in the sight of your body covered in nothing more than your pajamas. His already rosy cheeks flush further, sweat accumulating above his brow at your delicacy; your vulnerability. How cute.

⤷ As though your waist was a magnet, his hands instantly found themselves situated atop the exposed skin that managed to peek out from beneath your top.

⤷ A shudder wracked down Nagito’s spin, a shaky moan falling from between his lips as he gently squeezed the skin; familiarizing himself with your divinity. So soft, so delectable.

⤷ He found himself wanting to savor you; to treasure each moment through the means of time as he spends each mystical second hailing every centimeter of skin you bless his senses with. But it’s that damned ravishing instinct; his disgusting, filthy greed that persuades him to hasten.

⤷ Soon enough, his fingers find themselves curled around the hem of your pants, mentally preparing himself for the glory of tugging them down and witnessing the sacred grail of your panties. Though he hungrily awaited the heavenly domain the aforementioned panties kept hidden.

⤷ It was a swift motion, but he tried to be as careful as he could muster. You—his precious deity, his glorious god—were still asleep, after all.

⤷ At the sight of your panties, Nagito chewed his bottom lip with fervor as he suppressed a groan. This is real, this is real, this is real.

⤷ Caught in a state of delusion and pure, unhindered ecstasy, Nagito attempted to ground himself to reality—this was real, he was truly feeling upon your divinity—brushing the tips of his index and middle finger over your clothed slit. He could feel you; he could feel your slick through the thin fabric of your panties.

⤷ The feeling of your juices coating your panties, faintly dampening his fingers, had unraveled waves of heat to his cock. Your juices; your arousal.

⤷ Nothing could ever compare to the euphoria, the unhinged joy, he felt within that moment.

⤷ He could feel the hope you radiated in multitudes of waves. The intensity of your hope flustering him, dizzying him with adoration as he pants. A borderline maniacal cackle erupting from the back of his throat.

⤷ This was it! This was what a worthless scum such as himself was meant to do; his purpose! He was meant to appease you, his sole meaning in his pitiful, miserable, despair-filled existence was nothing more than that; to appease the beacon of hope that radiates amongst mankind, his beloved savior, his god.

⤷ His mind fogged with the brimmings of dazed insanity, he pounces; jumping the gun. Your panties sheltered your cunt no longer, exposing your most intimate parts to his ghost-green orbs; the same eyes that ravished the sight so hungrily, starved.

⤷ His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, salivating at the sight. Of course, every part of you was faultless; perfection personified. He should’ve known your pussy—drooling with your slick—was no exception.

⤷ The temptations, the urge, the bitter greed that was pitted within his too-far-gone devotions overwhelmed him.

⤷ It was a constant battle between his self-degradation and self-absorption. He wanted to ravage you; milk you of your nectar.

⤷ Yet he was caught in a cobweb of confliction. Scum like him didn’t deserve to taste your delicacy. Trash like him didn’t deserve to touch you so intimately.

⤷ He knew this. He knows, he knows, he knows, and yet he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not as his tongue drags over your slit, lapping over your wet cunt and humming at your flavorful dew.

⤷ It was addictive; your taste. As though he wasn’t already high—face flushed, sweat-coated brows, and bleary mind—he now found himself encapsulated within his ever-growing fixation. His adoration—no, obsession; his addiction—for you transitioned from a chrysalis of desire to an abyss of yearning.

⤷ Unable to cease his infatuation, he plunges his tongue into your forbidden flower; the glory that trash like him should never delve into. But he doesn’t give a damn about that now.

⤷ He’s aware of his status in comparison to yours. He shouldn’t even be within a mile radius of your sacred space; he shouldn’t be anywhere near you.

⤷ But that’s what made you so addictive; so cherished. He couldn’t get enough of your superiority, and that’s because trash like him will never be enough. He could never amount to your greatness—your holiness—so he takes. And he takes, and he takes, and he takes from you until he’s able to fill his worthless existence with a mere fraction of your inalienable hope.

⤷ You’re his hope. You’re his promise of a better tomorrow. You’re the beacon of light that ensures him that life is worth one more day. You’re the embodiment of his desires. You possess all his wants, and yet he only wants you.

⤷ He only wants to indulge in you; serve you; appease you; fulfill all that it is to please you. As he continues to suckle on your clit, lapping his tongue over the sensitive bud, a moan echoed within the bounds of your bedroom; a moan that was not his own.

⤷ You turn, and a groan of slumber escapes your lips. Nagito’s breath hitched as he pauses his ministrations, heart hammering within his chest in anticipation; dread.

⤷ A dread that warped into sickening excitement as you gasp; the result of a lick to your slit.

⤷ In that climactic second, your entire body stilled as your limbs began to tremble with absolute terror. At that very moment, you are painfully aware of the cold air brushing against your thighs; the cold air of another person’s breath against your exposed cunt.

⤷ A wicked, devious smirk resided on Nagito’s lips as he allowed his repressed chuckle to escape and resound within the tense atmosphere. Just his luck, you were awake.

⤷ He’s disturbed his beloved hope; his god. How shameful, how utterly audacious of him. How dare he stir you from your rest? Much less have your divinity awaken to witness his atrocious self; his existence that you should’ve gone about your merry life without realizing he existed.

⤷ But that doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done, and Nagito can only attempt to mend the inevitable errors he’s committed.

⤷ He’ll try to make amends of his wrongdoings by bringing forth your pleasure. He’s disturbed you, so why not make it all right through serving you? Just like he intended to do in the first place.

⤷ His tongue—formerly masquerading in quick frolics—now fervently diving and plunging into your core. Slurping your juices with such intensity as regard for your already disturbed slumber is dismissed.

⤷ Your hands press against his disheveled hair, tugging and attempting to push him away. Yet the sting of your fingers within his strands merely elicits a groan from his lips; the same moan that vibrates against your body, releasing a moan from your pretty lips that he adores.

⤷ The harmonious sound you’d let out motivating Nagito further as he tightens his right hand over your thigh, throwing it over his shoulder. His left-hand massaging your slit—teasingly—before thrusting two fingers at once.

⤷ Your stuttered moans are pitifully muffled by the biting of your bottom lip. You’re afraid; so very afraid. Why was this happening? Why you?

⤷ With his face buried between your thighs, you couldn’t get a clear view of his face to identity him. You wondered which would be worse; someone you knew or a stranger?

⤷ Regretful whimpers tumble from your lips as Nagito added yet another finger, his lips curled around your clit as he drew a harsh suck; one that forced a particularly loud moan from you.

⤷ He smiled against your cunt, giddy that someone as trashy as him could bring out such melodic noises from you. Yet this blossomed a hunger for more; more of your sounds and more of your pleasure. He wanted to watch you unravel over, and over, and over.

⤷ And—while you laid beneath him, squirming and writhing in both pleasure and an instinct to get away due to your terror—he was going to do so. He was going to milk you of your orgasms relentlessly, basking in your cum as he strives to bring you as much pleasure as scum like him can give.

⤷ As he pumped three digits into your sopping cunt, juices squelching upon contact, his pace only grew more rapid; hasty with the desire to feel you clench around his fingers; soaking him in your cum as you reach your climax. Faster and faster, his eyes interlock with yours as your mouth hung open, your heavenly moans filling the room.

⤷ Yet as your eyes meet, a terrifying realization causes your heart to drop to your stomach along with the unwanted bubbling of your oncoming orgasm.

⤷ You knew him. A bitter realization as your breathing both halted and grew more unstable. You knew him, you knew him, you knew him—tears cascading at the fact—you knew him; Nagito Komaeda, the infamous lucky student in the class below you.

⤷ Through the horrific pleasure of his fingers thrusting into you, a stuttered cry escapes your lips as you sob.

⤷ “Stop! Stop, plea—ah! Komaeda, stop!” Your wails overcoming your unintentional yelps of wretched ecstacy. And paying heed to your pleas, he stops.

⤷ You feel relieved; hopeful. There’s a hope blossoming within your chest as you sought the possibility that he’d truly stop; leave you alone and never show his face to you for the remainder of your life, perhaps allowing you to forget this night ever occurred.

⤷ But once your eyes meet with Nagito’s ghostly green ones once again, you could hear the cracking of your spirit; the shattering of your hope. There’s something within his gaze. Something animalistic, something so terrifyingly carnal.

⤷ He didn’t stop. Not as you sobbed and pleaded for him to let go of you; to leave you alone. Not as you promised you wouldn’t tell a soul about this night if he’d just leave. But he didn’t leave. And he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

⤷ It hurt. Perhaps not physically—violating you pushing you into heaps of orgasmic pleasure—but emotionally; mentally.

⤷ Your sobs falling upon deaf ears as he removed his fingers from within you; unsheathing his digits in which were soaked in your juices. For once throughout the time you’ve laid conscious, he’s removed himself from you. Shifting his weight onto his knees, barely straddling you.

⤷ In that moment, you saw a chance; an opportunity. And as quickly as your hope had been shattered preciously, the fragments seemed to reassemble themselves; the broken aftermath of what was once whole.

⤷ Though as you prepared yourself to dash towards your bedroom door—half-naked and vulnerable—a sickening, gutwrenching sound haunts your ears; the clanking of a belt buckle followed by the daunting friction of leather.

⤷ You needed to run, and you needed to run now. Without a moment to waste, you used your utmost strength to shove the male back, and throwing yourself off of your bed.

⤷ Your body hit the wooden floorboards with a thump as you wheezed in exasperation; the wind knocking out of you. Yet you didn’t allow the minor setback to hold you down as you shoved yourself from the floor, sprinting towards the closed door.

⤷ It was close; so close you could almost wrap your fingers around the brass knob and release yourself from the confines of your bedroom; what you now considered the encompass of Hell itself.

⤷ As your fingers brushed against the doorknob, curling it to the left and successfully opening the door, a weight shoves itself against you; forcing your body to slam against the door—painfully—shutting it.

⤷ Your blood ran cold; turning to ice at the realization of what’s to come. You were too slow.

⤷ His calloused hands clasp over your body; one over your mouth whilst the other remains firmly atop your hip, squeezing at the plush skin. His breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he mutters something you’re unable to comprehend, much too focused on the painfully audible pulsating of your heart.

⤷ You had nowhere to run, and you surely couldn’t hide anywhere within your room. You were stuck. You were too slow and now he’s trapped you within what you had once assumed was the comforting, safe confinement of your bedroom.

⤷ You could feel it; you could feel him. The unmistakable bulge pressing against your thigh serving as a searing reminder of what it is that’ll be taken from you by the arising of dawn.

⤷ Ever-so hopeful, you continue to thrash; fighting against his bludgeoning grip as you sob an onset of pleas for the possibility of persuasion. But the endeavor of humanistic covetousness is not to be underestimated.

⤷ It’s as though he’s unable to hear your begging; selectively falling deaf as he ravishes for what he yearns for. Despite his internal promising of committing such ludicrously was for you—much like all other actions he takes in his pathetic life—Nagito is bound by the foundations of his humane instincts; selfishness.

⤷ Even as he pushes himself into you, choking out an exaggerated, sinful groan as he savors the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, soaking him in your cum from your previous climax as he thrusts you into another.

⤷ He’s relentless; pounding into you as the ropes of his self-restraint are cut. The remnants of humanity long-lost within him as all that’s left is the barren chrysalis of fatal infatuation; narcissistic desire; the epitome of all that he once vowed to never become.

⤷ Over and over, he circles your clit, stimulating your nerves to draw out the cries of bliss that he adores. Your moans a mantra of pleas to his disillusioned ears.

⤷ Even when the buildup of pleasure became too much, reaching your fourth orgasm of the night rapidly, much to your dismay. The bubbles of elation became too much; it became painful.

⤷ Your legs trembled with shocks of exhaustion, jolting through your limbs in the form of cramps as you sobbed from the mental strain and the physical drain his tainted violation took on you. It hurts, it hurts so bad.

⤷ You wanted him to stop, pushing against his hips which were practically strapped to the curves of your ass, you attempted to put space between your body and his; granting yourself just the tiniest bit of relief from his unwanted touch.

⤷ But he wouldn’t allow that. He yearned to be closer to his hope—his deity—for he knew that the moments shared were temporary; a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity graced by your divinity. And he wouldn’t waste a second of it.

⤷ “Please,” Your voice hoarse from the endless amounts of crying and screaming for release from his captivity. “No more. I can’t—“ But your continuous begging was interrupted by a voice you prayed to whoever would listen that you don’t hear his wretched voice for the rest of your days; the rest of your days in which you’ll attempt to fix the pieces of yourself he’d scattered.

⤷ “But you can, my beloved hope. I believe in your ability to keep going. You’re surging with the throbs of hope! I can feel it!” He rasped. His voice is cheery and upbeat as he panted breathlessly, pushing himself towards an orgasm of his own whilst you’re forced to endure your fifth.

⤷ “No! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” You yelped as the crown of his cock kissed against your cervix; a painful jolt shooting up your spine as you cry out. It hurts, everything hurts. Your abused pussy leaked heaps of your cum as the fluids drizzled onto the floorboards and your inner thighs.

⤷ “Don’t lose sight of hope, my darling deity. You are capable! Conquer the putrid tendrils of despair and provide me with another dose of your glory! I beg of you, please. Allow me this moment to—“ His tangent was cut off; his insanity and dazed glorification of obsession are not allowed another second of exposure as you scream.

⤷ “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” It’s loud; your voice ringing in your ears as you clench your fists.

⤷ This man—no, this-this monster—was anything other than humane. He held not an ounce of sanity as his shaft twitched from within you at your outburst, groans escaping his lips at the sensation of you clenching as you shouted your proclamations.

⤷ This sick fuck found pleasure in the outing of his disturbing infatuation. So much so that he pressed his chest against your back as thick ropes of translucent cum fill within you; his cum.

⤷ The horrifying sensation of his heated seed gushing around his cock which still continued to pump into you—though at a much slower pace—pushed you to tears once more. You want to vomit, you want to empty all that’s inside your limp body; a body that no longer felt like your own.

⤷ He reached his climax through the use of your body as though you were a mere fleshlight; a toy simply for his volatile lust. He came inside you.

⤷ Suddenly the room was spinning, the door blending with the wall as the frame warped into unrecognizable shapes. Your body swayed—mind hazy as you swallowed back the traces of bile—before falling into the arms of the sole being you wished nothing more than despair upon.

⤷ He held you; cradled you within his arms as he whispered about how good you were. His cheeks flushed rosy with an unnatural, insane sense of longing.

⤷ “My darling deity, I can’t believe that scum like me managed to ensure you five peaks of ecstacy. What an honor for someone as trashy as me, to be nuzzled within your sacred blossom of hope. Ah, I truly am so lucky...” He rambled. It’s insane; his words, his gaze, his touch. Everything about Nagito Komaeda was—to its very core—insane.

⤷ “To think that someone as worthless as me, as purposeless as me, could be given the gift of serving you like this.” He releases an airy chuckle as he guides you to your bed, laying you to rest once more. Your exhausted figure falling limp as you hit the mattress.

⤷ He leans over you, his breath fanning over your lips as he pauses, gazing into your eyes with a moment of what you believed to be the eyes of true depravity.

⤷ “I’ll follow you to the depths of Hell if I have to. Not a moment in my life will be spent without serving you; worshipping you.“ He continues to monologue, each sentence that leaves his lips muddled with riddled devotion; a promise you pray that he won’t keep.

⤷ His lips brush against yours as the lids of your eyes weigh more by the second. You can sense the warmth of his breath as his lips press against yours; not close enough for a proper kiss yet able to rub against yours. It’s an intimate proximity, but one you’d rather run through fire than share with him.

⤷ “My goddess, I’ll hail you until my dying breath, if your sincerest hopes will allow me.” Finally, he captures your lips with his own, pulling you in for a fleeting kiss that he hesitates in breaking.

⤷ As he pulls back, eyeing your now sleeping form, he couldn’t help but smile. A smile that surely would’ve stirred fear deep within your gut as swirls of delusion masqueraded within his ghostly green hues; a visage of addiction in its rawest form. “My darling deity, I love you.”

#This is the darkest piece I’ve ever written #So please do pay heed to the warnings!#yandere #tw yandere #sdr2 x reader #dr2 x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #yandere nagito x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito hcs #nagito imagines #danganronpa hcs #danganronpa scenarios

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lunarianillusion · 4 years ago

Text

A change in fate

authors note: Sorry this chapter took a while, writers block is a pain and school takes a lot of time. Still I hope you enjoy this chapter and this story is now also on archive of our own under the same name. Now on with the story.

a maribat fanfic

Chapter 07

Marinette had been greatly relieved when Mist had returned so quickly and seemingly having succeeded in their mission. The miracle box safely tucked in their tail, a ball of memories between the leopard’s jaws and Wayzz sitting upon their silvery head. A small smile graced her lips at the sight.

But the small moment of joy had been shattered when a. unknown presence made themselves known. How had she not noticed them, she was the true holder of the miraculous of emotions, she could feel everyone’s emotions within a six-mile radius clearly. Even if she could not on a person’s scent, she should have been able to sense his emotions long before they made themselves known. So, how had she not been able to sense them following her guardian.

In a quick and flowing motion Royal shifted into her battle stance. Her fan at the ready in one hand miracle box in the other, Mist had her claws out and growled from deep in their throat and Wayzz nuzzled into the female’s neck hiding away from the possible danger. All their eyes focussed on the figure that now slipped out of the shadows.

To a certain degree the wielder of the peafowl was relieved that the intruder was neither Chat Noir nor her replacement. That however did not rule out the possibility that this was another akuma, albeit a better dressed one. The male wore upon a quick glance a near skin-tight suit made out of a reinforced material she could not quite place. His main colors consisted of red and black with a golden yellow coloring for his utility belts, that sat on his waist and crossed over his chest. Overall a decent ensemble, definitely better than what some akumas wore. The only things that really did not sit well with her was the length of the cape and that bloody cowl!

The male raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and moved his head to bear his throat. “I am not here to fight you, Blue Royal,” the stranger stated calmly. “Or should I refer to you by your old identity, Ladybug.”

The blue clad hero went absolutely rigid at this comment as did her companions. How? How did he find out?

Seeming able to read her body language he went on to give her a simple explanation on how he got to this revelation. He told her about how he had been there when the last akuma attacked and had made the connection due to her mannerisms around the so-called heroes and her overall combat experience. For not even someone trained in any form of martial arts, no matter how long they may have trained, would be able to pull of what she did in that little of time without real life experience. And from her reaction he could tell that his theory was correct. Great so she ratted herself out, well done Marinette.

“Who are you?” she more demanded then asked.

“I go by Red Robin and I was formerly known as Robin and protégé of the Batman of Gotham. I have come to Paris to offer you my help in taking Hawkmoth down,” Red Robin told her, while looking straight at the female before him. Though his eyes were covert by the cowl’s white lenses, Mari swore their eyes were locked.

“And how am I to be certain that you are not one of His akumas or accomplices?” The blue clad girl asked skeptically with a cold tone her eyes narrowed into a glare. The tension in the air could almost be touchable as the two continued their stare of.

Red Robin nodded at her reasoning, seeming to understand her suspicions and following cautios manner. “Understandable concerns. Though I doubt I shall be able to put your worries to rest, with just my words. But quite a few people have made my existence public to the world. I hope that when you have seen that you can be assured that I am here to help,” He spoke calmly as he lowered his hands.

“Not very secretive of you to become known to the public, protégé of the Bat,” Royal could not help to comment. It gained a small chuckle from the male before her. “Well the existence of the League is not really a secret either, hence why I were the cowl,” He bantered back. Marinette could not help her lip twitching upward even as she kept her look skeptical. For her nerves were not put to rest.

Since she could not sense his emotions, he must have a strong control over them, she focused her connection to miraculous to look into his soul. It was in correlation with a trick that Duusu had been telling her about during training. How when transformed a true soul can look through the eyes of their kwami and gain the ability to see someone’s soul. It was however a very exhausting technique and she would most likely have a massive headache in the morning, but it was a small price to pay to see if he was a threat.

The only thing giving away her use of this skill was the thin glowing ring of silver surrounding her pupil.

His souls held several shades of blue implying to someone who was loyal and strong of mind. But the colors were dull and several cracks could be seen in the core of his soul and were festering in a malicious black veins. While black could been seen as a color of mystery, which would fit with his secret ID, the way the veins seemed to be invading re-laid to him being hurt greatly. From Blue Marinette could tell though was that the vigilantly infront of her was being sincere to her at the moment. Though it took a second as she got distracted by the sight of his soul.

Still best to play save and do a background check on this ‘protégé of the Batman’ when she got back to her room. “If I were to believe you and you truly are here to help end the reign pf Hawkmoth. How would you be able to help me?” The female asked firmly as she called off the leopard beside her.

“Do not assume me to being rude, but even though you are capable the akuma’s in battle. Far better then your stand in or the mangy cat. I have come to surmise that detective work is not your forte,” Red Robin answered as he took to leaning on the railing. “I was trained in the fields of being a detective, combat and stealth by one of the best that I know of. I believe if we combine both our skills, we will be able to finally to put the plague that Paris is under to rest,” he finished.

He was not wrong she did need help in that department. She could deal with the combat part more easily now than in years past, having learned from experience. Though she had also collected some leads on the possible identity of Hawkbitch, she was unsure on how to follow up on said leads. If he truly was trained by the Bat of Gotham, someone who was considered the number one detective, he would definitely be a useful asset to the mission.

She only had one question left.

“Why now?” The question seemed to startle the vigilante before. The raw emotion in her voice a reflection of her young thirteen-year-old self, sounding so tired and confused. “I sent a message to the league years ago. Why is their only now a response?”

The male’s expression turned soft at her tone of voice and seeming to understand why she would ask this. “I have no excuse to the sheer incompetence of the one who thought your call of distress was nothing more than a prank. The suffering and deaths of the people of Paris is not something to be brushed off as a prank,” he seethed in anger a small flicker of emotion slipping from his control. Telling the blue clad hero of his sincerity.

A beeping sound of the peafowl wielders miraculous rang through the air. Six minutes.

“I get the feeling that our time is limited so I shall get to the point. Will you give us working together a chance?” And that was the question wasn’t it. Could she trust him to help her?

No, she could not, but she needed someone who could dig deep. And if the Bat had trained him his skills in what he mentioned prior would definitely of use to the cause. Still, he was an unknown with strong control of his emotions and even by looking at his soul, she was able to get more information on the male, she did not feel that she had a good read on him. So, this would be a gamble on her part. She needed a second opinion.

Turning her head, she looked at the little turtle god on her shoulder. For while she and Fu had not always had been able to see eye to eye, Wayzz has always been there to come to some sort of compromise. The little kwami always staying level-headed when there was a whirlwind around him and for that she was grateful. So, she knew she could trust him with being her second voice. The kwami and omega duo locked eyes into a silent conversation as Mist kept watch over the anomaly.

The omega’s eyes soon locked back on the vigilante’s masked once, her decision made. Marinette only hoped she would not come to regret this in the future.

“We will meet to compare notes and come to a full partnership arrangement on Wednesday at eleven p.m. at the arc de triomphe. Should there be an akuma attack before that time I want you to focus on evacuating the civilians away from danger. Try not to get spotted by Chat or LB for I belief we both agree they are not to be trusted,” the peafowl wielder informed the male of her decision. She barely made out the smallest amount of tension leaving his shoulders as Red nodded his head in agreement.

“To that we can most certainly agree,” Red Robin voiced. “Then we shall leave further questions to each other for Wednesday.”

The silence that followed his statement gave the vigilante the impression that it was time to leave. However, as he was about to take of the hero Paris called for his attention once more. Turning back to the blue clad female he motioned for her to continue. “Can you make certain no other heroes come to Paris,” her command gained her a curios tilt of the other humans head, question implied but not voiced.

“When I started being a hero, I thought the JL would be able to help, but after some research of the battle tactics they would only bring more problems than actually solve. For most league heroes seem to rely on an emotion power boost,” Red nodded along with her statement gears starting to turn. “And with Hawkmoth feeding on those emotions would make them a liability.”

“Agreed, I for one do not want to fight a mind controlled and upgraded superman,” The cowled male answered giving her some assurance that he would make sure the league would not interfere with Paris.

Being assured things would be stable until they could talk things out in two days, the two bid each other goodnight.

As Red Robin took off into the night Blue Royal took one more look at his soul, but instead of looking at his core she observed the spectral dragon that was coiling around his soul. It was the mark of a true soul. Which led to the question: Was that Timothy?

The nudge of the leopard beside her snapped Marinette out of her head and back to reality. Swiftly she and her companions took off to her nest. She had a lot to think about, to plan for and to do and the night was not getting any younger.

taglist: @moonlightstar64 @iloontjeboontje @mickylikesstuff@myazael @scribblinggraveyard @incredulous-reader@mewwitch@woe-is-me0 @fan-written @coolspidermanmusicflower@heretopasstimebi @jjmjjktth @ichigorose@cmouse @nyx-in-line@chocolatecatstheron @bookgirl14 @toodaloo-kangaroo@iglowinggemma28 @itsmeevie01

#maribat #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #red robin #kwami swap #miraculous ladybug

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vegalocity · 4 years ago

Note

#80 with Syntax and Min Yi. GIVE ME THE FATHER DAUGHTER CONTENT! - Pixel Anon

Sensory prompts

80. someone pulling away from a hug you wish would last longer (oh god you people are gonna kill me)

This kinda got away from me for obvious reasons, those being i love writing feels and the next thing i knew i was three pages deep

so enjoy your requested feels Pixel anon!

It was Minyi's first day going back to school after their family had been reunited. No matter how loathe Syntax was to let her leave his side—as just having his daughter nearby was doing such good things on his twisted up mind, he might even recover his real name before the month was out—he had to acknowledge that his sister couldn't call her in sick forever just for his sake. Minyi was too brilliant to keep her from school. No matter if she was just as reluctant to return as he was in letting her go.

She'd been holding his hand the entire walk—instead of just while crossing the street like it used to be—and had messed with her hair and glasses until he couldn't really see her face, other than the hint of teeth as she bit on the sleeve of her jacket nervously. Much to his embarrassment every so often he'd found himself forgetting which way to go and relying on his six-year-old's currently superior memory to keep them on the right path.

And soon enough there they were. Minyi made a noise of distress and let go of his hand to bury her face into the back of his jacket, her little arms wrapping around his legs and squeezing for all she could squeeze.

“Come on sweetie, you need to go back to school.” though he wouldn't deny his own heart ached. It hadn't been long at all that they'd been reunited, and if he were being completely honest (and utterly selfish) he also wanted nothing more than to lift his little girl up and walk away, go somewhere else for the morning and afternoon and simply lie to his sister—what is her name what is her name what kind of brother forgets his own sisters name—when they got home. But he couldn't do that, he was done being a villain.

“Don't wanna.” She mumbled into his jacket. Syntax sighed and took either of her hands in his own, even without the spider venom still lingering in his system he would be able to pry her off easily, but he just needed to be able to turn and crouch until he was eye level with her.

His baby's eyes were big and full of tears—and Minyi was never a crocodile crier, even if something was silly in the long run when she cried it was always sincere—she sniffled pathetically into her sleeve when he let her arms go and his heart cracked.

“Minyi, tell me what's wrong.” He put his hands on her shoulders and for a moment thought she wouldn't answer, but Minyi pushed her glasses back up into her hair—she only wore her glasses when she needed them or when she didn't want people to see her face, how did he remember that but forgot what she was allergic to? what kind of father forgets—and began to chew on her sleeve again.

“'m scared.” she finally mumbled around the fabric.

“What are you scared of?” Some part of him he didn't remember existing before—perhaps his natural protective instinct had fused with the aggressive spider instinct without his knowledge—was raving at the possibility that at some point in his absence his daughter had been bullied, by either other children or heavens forbid one of her teachers, and it had been bad enough to make her afraid to return to school, and was wondering how to best step in on such an event when-

“That you're gonna get stolen again.” When his baby decided to just break his heart in one fell swoop.

For a moment he was too stunned to really respond, other parents and other children were passing them by, shooting furtive glances as they likely didn't recognize him as Minyi's father anymore. They wouldn't recognize him, why would they? Who would look at what he was now, this purple and green monstrosity with metal rods that would jut out of his back and teeth sharp enough to rend flesh and think to themselves that this was the same human technician that once walked his daughter to school almost every day? They wouldn't. Because now he was a monster, something not human anymore but not quite demon enough something in between and uncanny and—

He pressed Minyi to his chest in as tight a hug as he could without hurting her. Her little arms wrapped around his neck and pulled with as much might as she could give, and for a moment it felt like iron against him. A force he couldn't even hope to break through.

“That's not gonna happen.” the conviction in his tone surprised even him. “I will never let anything, anything like that happen again. Ever. You hear me?”

Minyi's voice was so quiet if her face wasn't buried in his collarbone he likely wouldn't have been able to make out her response.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She gave another pathetic sniff and—far too soon in his personal opinion—pulled away. He bunched a bit of his sleeve into his hand to wipe at her cheeks until the tears began to dry, and it wasn't until she bunched up her (non-chewed upon) sleeve in her hand to wipe his own face did he realize that a few tears had slipped through without him realizing as well.

“Okay.” She finally ceded, voice still weak and wobbly. “Will you pick me up when school's over?”

At least that had an easy answer. “I'll be right here the second you get out.” Absolutely nothing would be able to keep him away at this point.

Minyi nodded to herself, gaze down to the ground for a moment before she pulled her glasses back over her face and smiled widely.

“Okay then! I love you! Buh-bye!” She took advantage of him still being crouched and pressed a big kiss to his cheek before turning on her heel and running off.

“Love you too!” But she was already inside the school building.

Oh, how he didn't want to let her out of his sight right now. But far too soon her little head of messy hair vanished in a sea of children and he had no reason to be here until the afternoon when it came time for her to come home. Oh, how wrong it felt to be apart after so short a time back together. He had to be mature about this, Minyi was only six, but she wasn't a baby anymore—He remembered her as a baby, when she'd first come into the world all wrinkly and screaming her displeasure for the entire hospital to hear and he was completely deaf to the wailing because he'd never instantly loved something before but she'd stolen his entire heart the very moment he'd seen her—he couldn't smother her, even if it had been so long that they'd been apart and such a short time they'd been reunited. She needed to return to life as a normal child.

And he needed to be okay with that.

And he was.

He was.

Send me Stuff

#lmk Syntax #letters to Vega #Vega writes stories too #I mean after all the shit they both went through? Separation Anxiety is probably expected #Aunt Sis was totally waiting at home with some beers and an action movie they both loved as kids #All in all? bit of a rough day for everyone but definitely needed #OC: Minyi

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generallypo · 4 years ago

Photo

[ Constellation ’Director of the False Last Act’ is looking at you. ]

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dark academia!hsy, yeeee! the white coat is fantastic, but unlike kdj and yjh, she doesn’t really switch up the color scheme. no, her bum-aesthetic purple hoodie does not count. i think she’s super hot. i yell about how much i love her under the cut.

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yo han sooyoung is actually amazing, incredible, powerful, witty, drop-dead sexy... what makes her so irresistible? let me explain

1) yeah, kdj takes the kdj company to end of the scenarios, but please. how many times does he have to kill himself to get there? not to mention his intentional (and unintentional) kill count?

sure, he does the job, but damn is he kind of inefficient about it. say what you like about hsy’s methods or personality, but the 1863rd round far surpasses the 1864th in terms of the lives preserved while still managing to take the team to the end.

without the benefit of cheat-like knowledge, skills, and resurrections, hsy almost single-handedly orchestrates the events of the 1863rd round to a satisfying finale. kmw, problematic as he is, survives and becomes an admittedly better person, yjh finds a timeline where he can rest in peace, and the rest of the cast have their eyes set on the hopeful end of all scenarios. all this, while only being HALF of a person (hsy originally split off into two after misusing her avatar ability). do her actions lead to the happiest ending? no. but it’s the one that sacrifices the least and saves the most. for the greater good, in other words.

hsy may be an intrinsically selfish person, but unlike kdj, she has the ability to grasp the entire picture and avoid tunnel-visioning into a crappier, more convoluted and self-sacrificial solution. ironically, it ends up saving more lives. perks of being a talented writer, i guess.

and the 1864th hsy emerges as a leader in her own right as well. the epilogue arc shows her assuming roughly the same role as her 1863rd self in kdj’s absence: yjh breaks off from the main group (AND BECOMES A TERRORIST AKFDJDSLKSL HAHAHA) to assume a similarly antagonistic role to the remaining members of kdj company. as a result, she’s the most powerful lawful incarnation remaining, and once more the incarnations circle around her for direction.

2) independent, confident, competent (hot and kinda shameless about it). this woman has the most delightfully unrepentant attitude towards life -- how to defeat the man with the strongest defensive ability without dealing a single blow? summon a horde of your naked dancing clones to terrify his innocent sensibilities, and then cackle at his helplessness. the fact that her sponsor is literally the chuuni-est cringefest in the entire galaxy and she gives no fucks about him is just additional comedic gold. her undisguised disgust for what should otherwise be a highly respected/feared entity is a clear indicator of her supremely dominant position over everyone else, and i admire her consistent irreverence of everyone and everything.

hsy is the only character who can consistently bully kdj, brush off his deflections, and bully him again. 1863rd round hsy gives kdj about 50 migraines in the span of 5 minutes of conversation before confirming her superior wit. jhw comes close, but unfortunately, she actually respects the rat bastard. i wish i could mention yjh, but let’s be real: he -- and just about every existing version of him -- has been whipped for the guy for at least 250+ chapters now.

hsy, on the other hand, has no regard for anything except herself... man, i respect that so much. what a queen.

and i won’t lie! i didn’t like her in the first fifty or so chapters. plagiarism? homicide? kind-of-in-general-just-being-an-obstacle-to-kdj’s-plans? yeah, i almost fell into the trap of disliking her purely because she didn’t cave immediately in the grand scheme of kdj’s plotting -- thereby denying me the power rush that came with seeing kdj bulldoze his way through the puny attempts of small fry characters. she’s neither a friend nor a despicable foe, but rather someone who acts independently and in her own self-interest, WITH the ability to thwart major players if need be. aka, the one who frustrated kdj’s plans -- and me -- the most.

going by my previous isekai/power-fantasy trope experience, i figured she’d get pegged into the sexy-but-sassy harem candidate, or get killed off if that didn’t work out. in hindsight, i’m just pretty fucking dumb, but honestly, i can accept that with gratitude --

-- because in fact. the whole ‘she-gets-in-my-way-so-she-either-goes-into-the-harem-or-dies’ trope in light novels/webnovels and the like, is, frankly, misogynistic and boring as hell. i had some admittedly low expectations for ORV, which consequently blasted my ass to the moon and left me there sobbing for 42 years as i mourned my stupidity and paid my respects to its incredible ending and character development. hsy is a particular delight, especially in her meta awareness of these tropes -- blatantly stating she isn’t obligated to kdj for saving her life and declaring the damsel-in-distress cliche as ridiculous, for example.

and it really is, because suspension bridge effect aside, you’re not gonna want to bang a total shady stranger in the middle of the apocalypse. it’s the little statements of self-awareness, self-worth, and frankness that build up hsy’s charm. as ORV progresses, these little windows of her personality bloom as her presence takes stage center -- and then BAM! you really get to know how strong she is, how hugely capable of love she is, how subtly but wonderfully she expresses it, how she leads and protects those close to her, and how damn good she is at it. hsy is amazing. we stan an iconic queen -- no, black flameS EMPRESS. *kneeling*.

3) writes an entire EPIC, just to keep one lonely, broken fifteen-year-old alive. like. at that point in ORV, i knew. i knew. hsy is the fucking GOAT. seeing her spend the rest of her life on WOS, making sure it reaches completion because it’s the only thing that will sustain kdj until the advent of the scenarios... that hits too hard. inadvertently, it also damns the rest of the world to the terror and tragedy that the star stream brings.. but that’s the call she makes in order to save kdj’s life.

obviously, there’s no precise beginning to the timelines -- ORV is so neatly crafted in its cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader -- but i’d have to argue that hsy holds the greatest power in the trinity. creating the existence known as ‘yoo joonghyuk’ and granting life-changing hope to an otherwise forgotten boy.. is pretty powerful. yjh, for the most part, is a slave to the scenarios (until he breaks free in the 1863rd and 1864th rounds, in particular), while kdj (unwittingly) admits it himself: he’s truly the most powerless god in existence. i forget exactly where he mentions it, but it’s in response to lgy’s reverent commentary that, with all his knowledge and presumed confidence, kdj seems like the protagonist of story or a god to him. kdj’s inner monologue, of course, is appropriately self-deprecating and scarily accurate.

in a lot of ways, WOS -- and ORV itself, really -- is a love letter to readers. it’s a two-way connection, writer and reader, between someone who creates with all their passions and someone who consumes and responds with equally sincere feelings. Ways Of Survival -- the story of a man who defied death and grief and great powers far beyond his being -- is a fictional guide to surviving in a ruined world. but to a battered, bullied, and ostracized boy, it’s not just escapism, or wish fulfilment anymore. WOS is the map to navigating the hell of his reality. there’s a certain power in the right words being spoken -- or in this case, written -- at the right time, even if it’s only for the temporary burst of endorphins upon reading an especially delightful chapter. even if it’s forgotten the next day, you’ve managed to connect. you’ve touched another person’s heart. you made them think about questions they’ve never considered before; maybe, you made them smile.

what can i say but the honest truth? ORV, without a shadow of doubt, has most certainly reached me. i’m a goner for this story and its excellent characters -- long, long gone. something has changed, something that wasn’t there the previous day.

the mark has been made on the reader -- small as it is, it’s irrevocable. behold, in all of its little magnificence: the power of a writer, and their story.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #orv #han sooyoung #dark acadamia aesthetic #fanart #long ass emotional screeching #wow these are the nights i wish i had someone to yell about orv with #otherwise i stay up at ass-o-clock uncontrollably writing and groaning and writing #anyways hsy is best girl and sexy as fuck

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

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hiya !! i love you lots and lots !!💖 all your writing is absolute gold 🥺💕💕💕 your answers are so detailed and sweet, makes my heart go doki doki — if you’re still taking requests & it’s not too much trouble could i ask for C U Y for mozart perhaps ? many a thank 💖💕💖💕💖💕

Hello!! Omg of course you can sweetheart, thank you for such sweet praise! I do my best, I hope you enjoy these answers for our dearest Mozart~ 💖💖💖 Ily3!! it’s always a pleasure to see you!!! :D 💕💕💕

I placed a cut before the last one because it was long, but all you need to do is click to see the rest! All wholesome, no content warnings ;)

(These are so long you can hear the Mozart stan in me OTL the limit of my Wolfie love does not exist)

Fluffy ABC Headcanons listed here for requests!

C = Cuddling (how does he like to cuddle?)

(Awwwww shit, I’m softe ;-;)

Mozart tends to be a very private man about his love, so I don’t see him cuddling too much in any kind of public space. The only exception to this rule, however, is that blasted carriage! Though he’s a little mortified he needs comforting, he will melt into MC’s arms when they have a particularly bumpy/bad carriage ride. Usually he’ll try to content himself with holding her hand, or just chatting with her--leaning his head close to her shoulder. But she seems to sense how overwhelmed he is this time; how his hands are locked together to conceal their shaking, his jaw visibly tightening. She’ll draw him into her, settling his head against her shoulder/chest--right where he can hear her heartbeat. He’ll freeze at first before he sinks into her embrace, arms wrapping around her waist. His ears are burning with color, his fair skin easily revealing a blush, but she knows now isn’t the time to tease him about it. His breathing will calm bit by bit, and he’ll settle quickly as his grip around her tightens a little. He’s pouting but it’s clear just how much he needed this, murmuring “Danke, Meine Liebe.” She just drops a kiss to the side of his head, signalling there’s no need for any shyness or thanks, she’s happy to do it after all c;

Another way I see them cuddling is at night in their bed no sexy times, get your head out of the gutter kids. Usually he’ll be doing revisions and composing well into the night, mulling over possible adjustments and melodies single-mindedly. He’ll be sitting up against the headboard, sheet music in his lap as he reviews each page. He loves it when she just climbs into bed and settles against him; whether that means fully climbing into his arms and resting against his chest, or just laying her head against his stomach/lap. He’ll smile fondly and stroke her hair, letting the smooth texture calm him into clarity as she dozes off. These are the moments when inspiration finds him most powerfully, the lovely sight of his muse working wonders.

U = Upset (how does he act when she’s upset?)

Oh my god send help, send help he needs some milk!!!

All jokes aside, I truly think Mozart is at a loss at the sight of her upset ;-;. If he’s not the source of the distress, he immediately goes into comfort and resolution mode. He will try to calm her with all the sensitivity she deserves, offering a hanky and holding her close if she’s crying. He hates to see her cry, but he also understands that in this moment she needs to let it all out, to just feel it through before they can do the work of fixing things. He'll murmur sweet nothings--not that he wants her to stop crying--but that he’s here for her, that it’s all going to be okay and that’s a promise. When she’s ready to talk or feeling up to sharing he will listen intently, silent as a grave, until she’s communicated her feelings.

When she feels heard and comforted, only then will he ask her to wait a moment. He’ll return with freshly made hot cocoa--only the best for Meine Liebe--and hopes the warmth will be able to help soothe her further, focusing her senses elsewhere. If she wants it, he will play music for as long as it takes to relieve any stress/crying headaches. When she manages to fall asleep from the exhaustion, he’ll tuck her into bed and hold her close. He will turn off the lights, but by no means is he going to sleep. He will spend another few hours seething with rage at whoever/whatever it was that hurt her so that she doesn’t have to see him like that (he doesn’t want to distress her further). Or, if it’s something more abstract, he will spend that time trying to puzzle out a solution.

If she’s only mildly upset, he’ll call Schelm to the balcony and hope the fluffy friend will be able to take her mind off of things. He’ll hug her close and rock her gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, waiting until she just relaxes against him. As mentioned before, he’ll make hot cocoa, play music, ask her about the flowers she’s tending; just about anything he knows will make her perk up in an instant. He’s pretty simple and straightforward, but it’s because he pays attention to what works and he’s sincere--he’s very consistent in his affection. From afar it’s obvious he’s concerned because he will smile very gently at her, and whenever she turns around his face drops to his neutral/thoughtful expression; you can hear the cogs in his brain moving. It would be funny if the poor guy wasn’t so worried HAHA

Now then, here comes the real doozy. While it happens less and less the deeper they get into their relationship (their understanding of how the other works solidifies into trust), now and again Mozart pulls a stupid. He will know immediately when he’s fucked up because her expression tightens and shuts down, concealing every feeling from him. (She's hyperaware that she can sometimes be more irrational than him, so she locks down her thoughts and emotions.)

She’ll walk away because she doesn’t want to explode and needs a moment to just calm down, reassess. He knows she needs time--and so does he to figure out a proper way to apologize--but fuck if those few days don’t make him wither in self-loathing. He hates it when he says things he doesn’t mean, things that were remnants of a bygone era because they were sentiments that deserved to die. He hates that when he gets stressed out he is prone to verbally lashing out; and he needs to learn how to work at a reasonable pace instead of doing too much and hating every second of his life. He needs to find balance, both for his own sake and because he can’t stand that look. The look that says “not you, too. Please, don’t.” You want the quickest way to gut Mozart? There you have it. Part of it was that she had given him that same look when he first yelled at/intimidated her in that first week at the mansion, and it’s still something he deeply regrets doing. He shouldn’t have frightened her when she was already scared out of her wits and threatened by Arthur. The mere prospect of stooping to that level makes him nauseous and angry he would ever act with such indiscretion; he expects better of himself and he intends to be better than that. He may be a vampire now, but that doesn’t give him grounds to be a monster.

He doesn’t know squat about how to love someone, and maybe he doesn’t even deserve to be with her--but he’ll be damned if he hurts her without trying to amend what he’s done. When she’s calmed down she’ll return to him and try to apologize for the distance, but he won’t let her. He’ll tell her if anyone needs to apologize it’s him, and that he really does feel horrible about what he said. He’s going to promise to be more careful about his workload from now on, since that tends to be what makes him snap. But more importantly, he’s going to try to amend the behavior regardless of that. Anything that hurts her isn’t worth doing; he firmly believes that.

MC doesn’t worry too much after the few times it happens because he crushes the behavior in its tracks very, very quickly in the aftermath.

Y = Yes (how would he propose to her?)

Honestly? Mozart is the type to be a classic romantic when it comes to proposing to his beloved. While one can argue he really only takes music seriously, the same can be said for the person he has chosen to hold dear to his heart. He will spare no expense--no extravagance--in the process of wooing her. He believes that he needs to offer a proposal worthy of her and nothing less if he should seek to secure her hand in marriage.

He pulls out all the stops. He plans it all out to the minute. Buys her the perfect dress, rouge and assorted accessories, and tells her to prepare to enjoy herself all night--no other plans. She agrees easily, though she’s a little flustered by how much he’s spoiling her. When the time comes for them to head out he enters her room with an enormous bouquet of roses, and she’s just speechless as she seeks to soak them in a vase before they go. Dressed to the nines, he escorts her to a lovely restaurant where they dine together. She’s sparkling in her attire, nothing short of dazzling; it’s not just the champagne that’s bringing a light blush to his face. He spends most of that night psyching himself up, working to seem normal, and losing himself in her beauty. Not that he doubted his course of action before this moment--it just strikes him even more deeply how precious she is to him. He would never be here, smiling and laughing and enjoying himself, if it wasn’t for her.

And more than anything, he doesn’t want to give her up to anyone else. He wants to be the one to spoil her like this, wants to be the person she goes to first when she needs something. He wants to be the only one to know her most intimate thoughts and desires. He wants to be the one to make her smile like this, to make delight shimmer in those eyes--to be on the receiving end of such excited chatter. Every part of her is so very dear to him; the mere thought of giving her up makes him feel like he’s been hollowed out.

After dinner, he takes her to a concert hall he had rented out for the occasion. He plays a moving collection of pieces that she inspired (only the best) since coming to the mansion, since she filled his life with so much color. She’s already in tears at this point, and his heart aches at the sight of her eyes glistening--as moved as he is by music, one of their greatest commonalities.

He dries her tears gently with a hanky when it’s over, rising from the bench and coaxing her up with him. When she gazes at him in question, he drops to one knee and reveals the ring that has been heavy in his coat pocket all night. He considered a more extensive appeal, but something about rehearsing a proposal felt wrong, felt too wooden. Instead, he went with the words that were resounding from deep within his heart, the feeling that had brought him to this moment.

“Meine Liebe, you are the only reason my music can continue to thrive. But more importantly,” he presses a light kiss to her hand, squeezing it gently, “You are the only reason I can thrive as surely as my music does. I spent so long lost to myself; I had forgotten why I loved what I did in the first place.” His eyes are lowered, remnants of a surpassed shame lingering in his features. “If not for you, I suspect I’d still be ripping up half-filled scores, half-mad with frustration.”

“Wolf…” her voice is soft, but full of sympathy. It was that tender heart that saved him, that made him really able to live again.

“The prospect of life without you...I can’t imagine it anymore. I want to be the one to make you smile for the rest of your life, to ensure that these tears can only ever be happy ones. Will you make me the happiest man alive in return? Will you marry me?”

Needless to say MC goes straight back to crying after managing a breathless yes, and Mozart sags with relief before pulling her tight into his arms. He slips the ring onto her finger with no shortage of pride, as perfect on her hand as he’d imagined it would be.

Following his proposal, Mozart is even more smitten than ever. Whenever he wakes up before she does, he’ll gently take her left hand and marvel at the sight of the ring throwing rainbows in the morning light, sighing blissfully. When MC stops by to bring him Rouge/Blanc or coffee and a snack during the day, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the sight of it. “It’s nothing, MC!!! Composing is just...going well today...” Somebody help him his uwus are spilling everywhere

Mozart be like: look at me. serotonin is stored within the MC.

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp fluff #fluffy headcanons #can you hear me in love with our local softecore hardcore tsun AUGH #he is such a lowkey sweetie it absolutely kills me #i need to do more for him every second of writing these gave me life in the best possible way #tysm for the request lovely!!!#you have all my uwus always <333333 #i really hope you enjoy these :D #rambles #not incorrect quotes

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ji-yaaan · 4 years ago

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Ooh~ Do I see secret order up in the menu? Well don’t mind if I do! I‘ll order a Malleus Draconia x Reader where Malleus finds out that he isn’t the only fae that is from royal blood. If the tea satisfies my thirst maybe I’ll become a regular to your shop. I hope you don’t disappoint me~! (Wow this was fun to write lol)

°•°•°•𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚 𝑾𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒛•°•°•°

Malleus Draconia x Reader Scenario

Note: I'm sorry this took long (╥﹏╥) I had to rewrite it 2 times because my writing block was phenomenal lmao- ok but it's very hard trying to make something short... Tbh I prefer making very long time consuming fiction which is- ಠ_｣ಠ but I'm trying to improve ok?! Anyways I hope you enjoy this brainrot fic lol..

[ 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎! ]

A sunny afternoon at the lush gardens of night raven collage, the clear blue skies with a sunlit gardens beneath as the cicadas chirped in summer. An afternoon tea with the company of Malleus, nothing special in the least. But not for you...

Weariness and anxiety felt like it could get the best of you in any moment. Colors that drained your face with an evident look of unease plastered across your face. Malleus would be blind not to notice you of all people, to have a look of distress visibly seen from your face.

"Y/n is there something wrong?" With a gentle touch of his hands, doubt and hesitation felt like it melted the worried away, calming the unease you felt in your heart. But a question still lingered in your mind whether it was good to keep your secret for this long. But... Maybe telling him now will be fine? Well... a try is better than nothing right?

"Malleus I've got something to confess... Would that be fine?" Looking down on your cup, nervousness filling your system, but somehow you felt your heart grew a little lighter with the thought malleus of finally knowing a side of you that you've hidden for so long. Let's just hope he won't be disappointed.

"Malleus... Actually... I'm also fae Prince/Princess from Y/Kingdom..." Unwavering eyes stared at the fae before them.

A fae kingdom? You were a fae? How come he didn't know? He was shocked, Baffled perhaps...

Perplexed from the series of words that was said, eyes narrowed and lips agape from shock. It wasn't really the bad type of surprise, it was the good type of bewilderment that never failed to amaze him.

A part of malleus somehow knew something was different about you... The small whispers of voices screaming how special you were for him. Maybe it was because of the dazzling glint in your eyes when you meet gazes... Maybe it was your golden stardust that leaves remnants of light in his dull world he used to live in... Maybe it was because of the mystifying aura you radiate that left him wanting for more of your touch.

You will never know the impact you left in the eyes of Malleus... A light he'll hold closely to his heart in the midst of this mundane world.

But who would've thought that you were a fae with royal blood all along? How baffling it was to fool him for all this time. Surely Malleus just grows curious and curiouser with your very existence... An existence he'll never get enough of... An existence he's willing to cherish forever...

An existence he can cherish forever.

"Wait... Are you disappointed? I know... I'm sorry for hiding it for this long, but I just thought-" Trying to reason out yourself in hopes of forgiveness, who would've expect to see Malleus burst out into laughter with the biggest grin on his face... an ear to ear smile like a little child given sweets.

In a hitch of a second, a hand grabs you by your waist and waltz you away from your seat. Like a swift haze of daydreams, Malleus held unto you like the most precious thing in the world.

A hum of a familiar melody as the both of you waltz in the lush gardens... It was surreal experiencing a scene from a fairy tale, but the mystical feeling was something that you'll never forget. You can't help but smile from the joy that was left in the moment.

Malleus hummed a melodic tune you both knew well... Such feelings and sheer delight washing the both of you waltzing in the gardens. Putting a head on your shoulder, his heartbeat resonating with yours. "Of course I'm not disappointed... In fact I'm glad... I'm glad you can stay by my side forever... I love you my Prince/Princess..."

Who would've thought this moment could've gotten better? These pink feelings blooming felt like a magical eternal spring only the two of you share... The feeling of anxiety being washed down with love was the best feeling you could've asked for... How you both wish time would stop and relive this moments forever.

With the last step of the waltz and the humming of melodies closing to it's end, leaves flew in the wind on the sunlit scenery at daytime. Time felt like it stopped swaying by the arms of the one you love. Within a hitch of a second, those very arms lift you up the air. The brightest smile radiating joy right in front of you... a smile that melted you in the moment...

Heartfelt feelings finally sinking in, warmth fills up your heart with love and contentedness. You truly felt thankful and relieved that Malleus accepted you with open arms. Brushing his raven locks aside, tucking the dark strands behind his ears, "Malleus, I love you!" sincerity and wholeheartedness fills up your words... I hope my feelings reaches you...

With a chuckle leaving his lips a blissful reply was said. “Well then... Y/n, Say, If I were to marry you one day, I hope you accept my feelings too... I love you too my Prince/Princess...”

With a kiss on the forehead, A magical memory was made never to be forgotten...

End

Take a wild guess on what Malleus was humming... I won't even tell cuz it's too obvious lol. Sigh.... I'm such a slow writer, shame on me.... But I'm busy with real life ok??? So pls stone me gently(´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ)

(oh yes, this was fun to write... Trying my hardest best not to self insert- but on my defense, I can't help be biased when I write about the character I stan hard(ب_ب)

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #malleus draconia #twst imagines #twst fanfic #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader

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redqueen-hypothesis · 4 years ago

Text

memory traveler ➳ gavin (mlqc)

➳ PAIRING: reader x gavin bai (mlqc)

➳ WORD COUNT: 3383

➳ GENRE: winter world! gavin, slight divergence from canon (at this point do the elex writers even know what’s going on), angst

➳ SYNOPSIS: contains spoilers for chapter 24+, direct references from gavin’s SP karma date dream traveler.

i. parting

In the light of the sun setting over Loveland City, he sees you again.

Sitting at a park bench along the road, you’re wrapped in a soft woollen coat and a light scarf draped around your shoulders, hands tucked into your pockets and seemingly lost in thought as you watch the traffic and pedestrians move before you like a vignette film. Yet, you’re the only thing in that frame that doesn’t move, still and painfully out of place, a strange expression on your face that he can’t quite put his finger on - as if you’re searching for your place amongst the crowd.

Gavin knows he’s on a mission, but he can’t help but slow his footsteps as he walks towards you, as if drawn to you by an invisible force tugging at him. As he steps closer, a shining gleam on your wrist catches his eye - a small ginkgo charm hanging from your hand reflecting golden evening light.

Slight regret pulls at the seams. The person you had so desperately been looking for... you still haven’t found him, have you? If you had, you would definitely be with him now, smiling and laughing with those bright eyes he had borne witness to during the Eternal Winter incident. If he had found the person you were looking for, perhaps... you wouldn’t be wearing that expression of crippling loneliness on your face.

Before he can call out your name, however, you’ve already lifted your head to meet his eyes, slight surprise flitting over your features before a smile settles on your face at last. It’s not a bright smile, but a quiet, resigned one, filled with a trace of nostalgia and a hint of pain.

“Gavin.” You say softly, and he barely hears you over the rush of traffic coming from the street, his name barely over a whisper in the wind.

“Hey.” He greets back, taking a step closer. The wind tugs loose a few leaves from a nearby tree and sends them spiralling between the two of you, and your eyes break away from his for a second to watch them as they fall to the ground. “Long time no see.”

At his brief words, your smile falters slightly, disappointment written all over your face, and Gavin presses his lips together, mildly concerned. Did he say something that he wasn’t meant to?

“What’s wrong?” He asks. You hesitate for a moment, eyes wavering, and Gavin knows in an instant that you’re hiding something from him. A small bit of disappointment tugs at the corner of his heart. Sure, he’s known that you were hiding things from your very first meeting, from your involvement with the Eternal Winter incident and your identity as Queen, but now that the problem was resolved, Gavin had thought that you would be ecstatic.

He was wrong.

But then you’re taking a deep breath and smiling up at him, voice slightly shaky. “Where have you been all this time? I’ve been... looking for you.” Your words grow softer and softer, trailing off. You sound like you’re trying to choose your words carefully, and he wishes you wouldn’t. “I was... worried about you.”

Gavin pauses a moment to take in this information. The two of you have only known each other for a limited amount of time, yet you’re worried for him, seem to have been for a while. “Pretty good.” He says, to reassure you. “After the sattelite launch tower mission, it was arranged for me to hibernate and recover, so my contact with the outside world was cut off.”

He wants to say he’s sorry for leaving you alone, but hesitates. The last time the two of you had been together, he had lost control of his Evol. He remembers you trying to protect him from the rest of the NW team that had come in to sedate him, a weak powerless thing with your fragile body flung in front of his to protect him. “Speaking of, I never got a chance to thank you.”

You blink at him, surprise flickering in your eyes. “Thank me?” You sound genuinely stunned, as if trying to protect him was second nature instead of something to be thanked for. From the way that you’re reacting, he can guess that the incident isn’t even on your mind. “Why?”

Gavin decides to change his words. “For resolving the ‘Eternal Winter’ incident.” He says briskly, watching your expression closely. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but you did it. Your persistence paid off.”

You smile weakly at him. For the key factor in resolving the incident, you don’t look particularly joyful at the results you’ve achieved. In fact, now that he thinks about it, you barely mention the incident at all - he hasn’t heard any news of anyone claiming to have stopped the Eternal Winter. Everyone simply thinks that it happened to be a miracle, but the miracle is sitting in front of him right now on a park bench in the flesh.

“It was nothing. How about you? Did you get hurt during the mission?”

Back to him again. Your concern over a man you’ve barely met confuses him, but he can sense that it’s genuine. Gavin nods slowly. “It’s nothing serious.”

A smile - a real one this time, no matter how small - blossoms on your face like a blooming flower, gentle and sweet to look at. “As long as you’re safe.” Your smile is real, but it’s a flower decorated with thorns that stab you the tighter you hold on to it, you look like you’re hurting on the inside. “I’m really, really happy that you’re safe.”

“You don’t look happy.” The words fall from his mouth before he can stop them, but a slight scowl flits across your face and you puff up your cheeks slightly at him.

“That’s what my ‘happy’ face looks like, alright?”

That’s what is missing, Gavin realises as he watches you pout indignantly at him. Your indomitable fighting spirit in the face of all odds, how you had been so determined to carry on even when confronted with overwhelming obstacles and danger. After the Eternal Winter incident, you look weary and tired on the outside, but when he seeks a little more closely, that tiny spark in your eyes seem to have been lost.

“Well, Loveland is back to normal again.” Gavin says quietly, trying to reassure you. He doesn’t like the idea of you continuing on with that pained expression on your face, especially when he’s not going to be able to see you much from now on. “Everything will be okay, I’m sure of it.”

The second he says those words, your expression almost crumbles behind that thin facade of calm, fingers gripping the bracelet around your wrist tightly. That man again... just how precious is he to you?

“That person you wanted to find...” Gavin hesitates for a moment. “Did something happen?”

Anguish still lingers in your gaze, and you seem to almost curl up on yourself at his words. “No...” Your voice cracks slightly. Gavin frowns, takes a step forward. Something must have happened, for you to react that way. But whether to reassure, to comfort, he doesn’t know.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find the person you’re looking for.” He apologises sincerely. “But if you want to, we will continue to search-”

“No need.” Your words take him by surprise, and the rest of his sentence dies on his lips. You’re cradling the tiny bracelet with your hand, running your fingertips over the silver links with a pained smile, as if you’re trying to connect with that man’s touch through metal and steel. “I already found him.”

Gavin’s eyes widen, slightly surprised. You’ve already found him? “Then, why aren’t you with him-”

You look at him with a painfully tender smile, eyes sparkling with the barest hint of tears. “He’s...” You pause, struggling to find the words. “He’s not coming back anymore.”

Your words grow more and more choked, and Gavin can’t help but move forward to squeeze your shoulder with one hand. “I’m sorry.” He speaks softly, unsure of what else to say. But it seems to have been the right choice, because you look up at him and manage a smile, cracked and brittle at the edges.

“It’s not your fault.” Your breath leaves you in a shaky exhale. With a final forced laugh, you turn to face him. “I should probably... throw this away, shouldn’t I?”

Gavin blinks down at what’s clutched tightly in your hand. Delicate silver chain and golden gingko charm twisted between your fingers, chaining you to an unknown man whose presence has left your life.

Leave it and move on, Gavin wants to say, but for no reason the words are stuck in his throat, unwilling to leave. Don’t! A voice at the back of his mind suddenly screams, urgent and desperate. Don’t throw it, please, don’t... Distress almost tormenting sweeps through him without explanation, and he has to employ all his will to stop himself from shouting his refusal.

When Gavin had the bracelet on him, with the intention to return it to you, he had looked it over once or twice in moments of idleness. The unprofessional but careful lines that shaped the little charm had told him that it was clearly crafted by the hand of someone who wasn’t an artisan. The person who made it clearly must have put volumes of effort and care into this gift, but then why would he leave you all alone like this?

Gavin had run a search on the GPS tracker he had found embedded inside the bracelet. No results had matched it, as if the person had never existed.

A dead end. A hopeless case. And yet Gavin still can’t find the strength to tell you to throw it away.

Your fingers still on the bracelet, before a slight, resigned smile crosses your face. “He waited for me six years, though.” You say softly, more to yourself than to him as you look down at the little charm cradled in your palm before slipping it back onto your wrist. “I guess I can be a little patient.”

Relief floods him when he hears the ‘click’ of the clasp, and he tries to contain his expression. “You can do it.” He says, possibly the most gently he’s spoken in his entire life. You pause for a moment before you smile up at him, and the ache in his chest that he didn’t even know was there settles. “I know.”

With that, you rise to your feet, dusting off your pants lightly.

“Well then, Gavin. I’m sure I’ve already wasted quite a bit of your time.” You tell him, and he pauses, the words ‘don’t go’ lingering at the tip of his tongue, barely clinging on. He had almost spoken them out loud. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, and it confuses him. “I should get going. Take care of yourself... and... well, I guess it’s good bye.”

“Wait.” He speaks before he knows what he’s saying, one hand reaching out to catch you by the elbow when you move to walk past him, away from him. “I’ll... see you again, won’t I?”

He doesn’t understand the fear that lurks deep in his belly at the thought of never seeing you again. It’s a foolish one, of course, he could easily track your movements with his connections in NW, and finding you would be a simple task. But still his fingers won’t seem to obey rationality, and his grip on you doesn’t loosen.

You look back at him, surprise crossing your features for a moment before you smile at him, warm and soothing as the first spring breeze that signals the end of winter.

“Of course.” Your voice is impossibly soft, and so, so tender. “We’ll definitely see each other again.”

ii. reunited

When you had said that the two of you would see each other again, neither of you had expected that it would be so soon.

From meeting in the VR game center, to participating in the game together, Gavin has to admit that it must have been a sheer stroke of coincidence, perhaps what others would call fate, that the two of you were brought together again. As he stands at the side of the piano room, watching you play the piano and guiding the younger image of himself along, he closes his eyes and basks in the powerful melody as if rises and falls.

“If only I had met someone like you back then, I wouldn’t be how I am now.”

The younger version of him says these words softly, and Gavin pauses, eyes blinking open to stare at the boy sitting next to you on the piano bench.Alarm rises in him when he catches the image of his younger self flicker slightly like a mirage, and he steps forward to pull you away from him.

“It’s dangerous, get away from him-” Gavin begins to say, but pauses when the boy utters the next few words, confusion lacing his voice.

“But... why can’t I read your memory?”

At his words, Gavin’s feet still where they are. Thoughts, unbidden and unchecked, run through his mind at the realisation - all the memories that had been constructed so far in the virtual world, they all had been his. By all means, the Evol should have affected you both, so why...

He turns to you, intending to pull you away from the unknown character before solving this question, but then you smile at the young Gavin sitting on the piano bench, seemingly undisturbed as you take his hand in yours gently.

“I’m afraid my memory is somewhere you won’t be able to follow.” Your voice is soft, secrets reflected in your eyes, hidden meanings in the words that fall from your lips. “But could you lend me your Evol just once... please? I want to take a walk down memory lane for one last time.”

That’s dangerous, Gavin wants to say, but the younger image of him stares at you for a moment before nodding. By instinct, Gavin believes that the man that wears the skin of his younger self will not hurt you. There’s no reason to it, but before he can rationalise it, the person he now knows to be an Evolver begins to speak again.

“People who live in constant denial will come to accept them as truths.” He says solemnly. “They need a voice to lead them out of the darkness... so thank you, mysterious lady.”

When the Evolver flickers and vanishes from sight, it’s just you left alone with him in a dark music room, the full moon shining outside the windows. Slightly confused at why he’s still there with you, Gavin takes a step forward towards you, a question forming on his lips.

Right before they can fall from his mouth, however, you turn back to the piano, put your fingers to keys, and begin to play.

A rich melody fills the air, ringing powerfully in his ears as your fingers strike every chord and note with ease, the music rising and falling like breathing, as if it’s alive. It swirls around him, lifting the senses, and with each new note that joins the harmony, the world begins to change and warp around you.

In a bright flash of colour, shapes and lines overlapping over each other, Gavin blinks once - and then you’re no longer in the piano room.

He has to blink a few more times to adjust to the light, by the brightness of the sun in the sky, it’s barely early afternoon. The two of you are standing on the sidewalk outside of a normal company building, blending in easily with the couples that are walking down along the street, hands held tightly. From the roses that some of them are clutching, Gavin surmises that it must be Valentine’s Day in Loveland City.

“Where are we?” Gavin turns to ask you. The afternoon light dances across your face, eyes soft and lips slightly parted, seemingly not hearing his question. He follows your gaze to a man standing beneath the shade of a tree, strangely out of place amongst all the couples wandering about and knows instantly from the sheer warmth in your eyes - this is the man you’ve been searching for the entire time.

His back is the only thing Gavin can see, dressed in a simple black jacket and jeans, but his build is athletic and strong, even from the distance. He appears to be waiting for someone, unhurried and patient, glancing once at the company building before turning back to check his phone. The immediate impression that Gavin gets of him is a firm, steadfast man.

One that would never have let you look like that on that park bench earlier.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Gavin speaks quietly into air, as if afraid to disturb your serene memory. You nod slowly, a smile so tender spreading over your face that he feels like he’s intruding on something private.

“You’re right.” You say softly, eyes never leaving the man’s back once. “That’s him.”

The intensity in your eyes burn, a gentle, homely glow that he has only seen in the most lovestruck of people. Whoever this man is, you must love him very, very much.

“What’s his name?” Gavin asks, curiosity lingering in his throat. The question is meaningless, you’ve already found him so there’s no need for him to know, but he can’t help but want to know the name of the man who has you so enraptured, so captivated.

The corners of your lips lift ever so slightly into a sad smile, and you open your mouth to speak.

Just at that moment, the sliding doors of the company building open and a young office woman dressed in a blue and white dress stumbles out, clearly in a hurry. Pausing for a moment to adjust her heels, she raises her head to look at the solitary man under the tree, and Gavin watches as a bright, loving smile spreads across a familiar face.

Your face.

The ‘you’ before him doesn’t wear the weary, tired smile that he sees far too often on yours. Instead, it’s filled with innocent joy, pure and unadulterated, almost infectious. Your other self covers her mouth with one hand to stifle her giggles at the sight of the man’s, before she quietly tiptoes across the sidewalk to her prey. What she clearly doesn’t notice, however, is the way the man’s head tilts slightly at the sound of her shoes on the pavement. He already knows that she’s approaching, recognises her just from the rhythm of her footsteps.

The man before him is attuned to her, to you, every fibre and every sense of him.

Yet, he doesn’t turn his head back and chooses to remain still instead, scrolling through his phone leisurely. His other hand taps a slow rhythm on his thigh, amused.

The girl sneaks up behind him, moving forward to cover his eyes playfully with her hands. Before she can do so, however, the man spins around and grabs both her wrists before she can react. She stumbles, a little yelp that turns into happy laughter when he catches her by the waist instead, pulling her close effortlessly.

“His name...” you begin to say softly, startling him out of his daze. His eyes can’t help but be drawn to them, as if magnetic. The man lets out a softer laugh, shaking his head at the woman’s antics, but the sound is impossibly fond even to him.

And bizarrely familiar.

As if in a trance, he takes a step forward, an urge to see just what this man looks like clinging to his mind. The man in the black jacket sets the woman back down, voice firm and steady as he utters the words ‘I got you’ with all the sincerity the world can offer.

A promise. A vow. An oath to never leave your side.

The man turns around, face illuminated by golden sunlight to reveal a gentle smile and amber eyes that sparkle with happiness. Amber eyes that look just like his.

“His name,” you whisper, and every word that leaves your lips echoes in his ears like the sound of a gunshot, “is Gavin.”

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc gavin #gavin bai #mr love gavin #gavin x reader #mr love queen's choice

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