#my majestic murderer

[magesforthedas]

Every so often Fenris pops up on my feed

And I'm like

I shall endeavor to exist with less offense.

[janedoeslament]

DRAWING THE MAJESTIC REP CAST UNTIL I SEE THEM LIVE, DAY 6/7!

NICK PEREIRA AS RICKY POTTS!

His pattern was gonna be the death of me tbh. I just traced over a professional pic I was able to find and copy pasted that all over and called it a day!! But unironically I had SO much fun working on this with the lighting and everything, and I find Ricky Potts quite delightful. DNI if you hate Ricky Potts I love him /p

[hoperays-song]

Analysis: Suki and Jerry’s Actual Jobs

What are Suki and Jerry’s actual jobs in Crystal Entertainment? This has been on my mind since I first watched Sing 2, mainly due to the jobs they appear to have don’t line up with what we’re told they actually are. These are my thoughts on their actual company roles with explanations, I hope you enjoy! 

Ps. I know there’s more evidence in this theory for Suki than Jerry but in my defense, we rarely actually see Jerry working and not just following Jimmy so...

- <3 Gooseless

Suki: The Chief Communications Officer (CCO)

Ok, so while we’re introduced to Suki as a talent scout, she actually doesn’t really act like one. In fact, a true talent scout would likely not have been as recognizable to avoid biased treatment. Nor would they have left before the full show is concluded as to be able to give an accurate review. She acts more like a company higher up, being recognizable and known in the industry, and seems to be in a position where she might go to shows after actual scouts have previewed them if they were going conflicting results, but she does not behave like an actual talent scout (again the leaving during the show).

Instead, she is constantly with both Jimmy and Jerry. She is constantly on her phone, on a tablet, talking to someone, she never stops working. She was in the room when Porsha’s firing was been discussed. And if she was a low level employee (like a talent scout), she definitely wouldn’t have been in that room. Jimmy considered that an embarrassment, he would limit the people who saw the direct response of said event. In fact, the only people in the room were Suki, Jerry (aka Jimmy’s right hand man), The Crystals, and the personal bodyguards who I can almost guarantee signed NDAs. 

She also was important enough for Jimmy and Jerry to get her before going to the theatre. Why would you get a random talent scout to go to handle the people currently putting on a show behind your back? You wouldn’t, because that wouldn’t be necessary. A talent scout would not be helpful in that situation at all. The only logical conclusion I could come up with was that she isn’t a talent scout.  

But do you know who would be privy to all the public and private workings of the company, who would be privy to all the information of the events going on? Especially since it’s their job? A chief communications officer. They run the publicity of the company, the contracts with other groups, and even the talent scout division (in rare cases). And Suki seems to handle this kinda stuff even within the movie. She is constantly typing what could be things like drafting news briefings or public statements about the show, which as it is high risk for the company, would likely be made by her. She is also there in every single big media moment of the company and seems to already know what’s going on (ie. didn’t react like Jimmy did in the news report scene, she already knew what was going on).

Also, just based on Jimmy’s personality, I don’t think he’d let a regular PR Officer/Talent Scout into any of those events either, so the only people in that room are heavily trusted by him. So, Suki being the CCO and technically on equal company footing as Jerry makes much more sense than her being a talent scout. Plus, her constantly acting as a line of communication between the company and the show is a job that occasionally falls on CCOs in high risk cases so, it makes sense she would be doing that as well.

Jerry: The Chief Operating Officer (COO)

Now Jerry… Jerry, Jerry, Jerry. He’s not a personal assistant. Unless this company has the world’s worst internal management structure in history, he cannot be a personal assistant. Because that would mean the one person, Jimmy, is running everything. Now as the CEO, he would be in charge in a broad sense and almost definitely has a few personal assistants, but that being Jerry doesn’t make sense in a corporate sense. 

In fact, we see him work doing the movie a few times and, while his desk is situated like a secretary’s, we don’t actually see him treated as one by other employees. Jimmy does, but Jimmy treats everyone that way so it doesn’t count.

Instead we see the hotel calling Jerry directly when something goes wrong. They didn’t call Jimmy, or Suki, or any other staff member, they called Jerry. Now, that’s a role that falls onto chief operating officer, aka the person who is in charge of the day to day of the company. He would be working closely with the chief communications officer and the CEO because his work directly overlaps with theirs. 

The CEO would be relying on him to handle the tiny details (like things happening with the hotel or media interactions on site) while the CCO would be relying on him to help with the presenting of the company and its work. And once again, I don’t think Jimmy would trust a secretary or personal assistant that much. But with a COO, if he goes down, so do they. It would be safer involving them in his plans. Also, the way other employees seem to differ to him wouldn’t being doing so if he was working exclusively with Jimmy (like a secretary or personal assistant), he has to have a larger company role.

[arx-aru]

look he has a house

happy little house for a happy little octopus! and happy little trees! i love him and his name is joel jeff jerold the third

his little hands! he's celebrating! just paid off the mortgage

[deputyash]

Dove Ash (FC5) | Phoebe Ash-Seed (FCND) | Vivian Wells (FCND) | Noah (FC5) | Matthew Ash (FC5)

Tagged by: @strafethesesinners @derelictheretic and @direwombat to do this picrew! Thank you!

Tagging: @harmonyowl @peachyaliien @teamhawkeye @purplehairsecretlair @glowwormsmith @shellibisshe @tommymillers (Probably some double tags but all well lol)

[kosmikowboj]

you know now knowing that as kids shawn played bassoon and gus played clarinet it’s truly criminal there was never an episode involving a local symphony orchestra. like, one of the principal musicians dies—call it the principal flutist—and foul play is suspected, so shawn convinces the chief to let them go undercover. gus is still using his old clarinet, but henry got rid of shawn’s bassoon like ten years ago so shawn makes the department rent him a really nice one. lassiter’s huge qualm this episode is that he thinks shawn and gus are making a mockery of the beauty that is classical music. shawn actually feels very strongly about the case because one of the pieces they’re performing has a majestic bassoon solo that he was supposed to play in the eighth grade until he got stiffed for first chair. gus and jules are the only ones being normal.

lassie and jules end up arresting the second chair flute player because it seems like a jealousy case, but shawn isn’t convinced. he goes down the rabbit hole and uncovers this crazy romance subplot about how the principal bassoonist and the principal flutist were sleeping together, but then the flutist slept with someone else in the orchestra—call it a percussionist (they’re always doing that)—and so he killed her. shawn claims he learned this through the instruments speaking to him. the high stakes moment of the episode is when the bassoonist tries to kill the percussionist, but our fave crew end up saving the day.

the episode ends with shawn and gus playing in the concert and shawn doing the bassoon solo since the principal was arrested for murder. biggest plot twist of all is that he actually sounds pretty good.

another random note is that lassie has it out for the second chair flute because he used to play oboe when he was younger and got relentlessly bullied by the flutes. shawn finds this out and forces bonding between the two of them by sharing his bassoon trauma. lassie does not seem to care. because the percussionist gets injured in the scuffle near the end of the episode, shawn convinces the orchestra director to let lassie play the triangle in the concert. later on in the series, there’s a throwaway line about how shawn can’t get ice cream with gus after a case because he’s busy. there’s a honk outside the psych office and shawn jogs out, gets in lassie’s car, and they go to community orchestra together.

oh also the henry subplot of the episode is that he and the director of the orchestra go way back for some reason and that’s the only reason that shawn and gus are allowed to go undercover. shawn is pissed at henry for getting rid of his bassoon and henry tries to turn it into a lesson about responsibility that is immediately undermined by the department renting one for him.

do you see my vision

[kindred-spirit-93]

ITS THE REIGNING KING OF ITHACAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

i feel dumb for just realising the parallel to scylla where he targets the torch holders lol. he really became the monster rawr rawr rawr huh.

also the parallel of dude putting his hand on bros shoulder only for ody to put his hand on dudes shoulder is driving me up the wall >:')

Haha made my first Epic animatic

[targaryenluvs]

OUR LITTLE DOVE

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal

word count: 3.0k

a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!

he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.

you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.

you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.

you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy

And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.

As rough as a briar

Like walking through fire

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary It's why

I need you

so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.

You're as pure as the driven snow

your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.

your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.

hope could only get you so far.

your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.

what on earth could you provide her with?

“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!

your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.

“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”

you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.

“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”

but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?

his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.

“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.

was this your chance?

you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.

but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.

your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.

even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?

“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”

“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.

you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.

crack.

you’d been found. you fucked up.

“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”

his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.

the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.

you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.

“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”

“she should eat something better.”

“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”

he was smiling, you could tell.

“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”

you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.

“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”

“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”

“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”

coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.

“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”

you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.

coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.

“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.

“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.

his, his, his.

with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.

lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.

your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.

don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.

not with her in the way.

you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.

here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.

obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.

“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”

and you did.

when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.

when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.

through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.

through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.

when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.

when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.

you had no idea why at this point.

for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.

for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.

you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.

and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.

maybe you’d grow up and find love.

maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.

maybe we’ll heal.

you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.

you’ll always be his little dove.

[gofishygo]

i know that everyone says this but the mw3 rm soap death was shit awful . looking back at it, logistically , it shouldn’t have happened .

so the first injury in this was soap being shot in the right shoulder (most likely in joint tendon region) . pretty painful , and if did hit in the area i believe it did , would hinder mobility in the upper right region of the body (neck, arm, some torso muscles .

HOWEVER !! soap has proven to be shot in similar or worse regions in other missions and has been able to carry through and complete objective alive .

what you are seeing is a move that should have killed makarov instantly . this is a stab performed to the external jugular vein (and due to soaps experience , possibly a carotid artery . i was taught this attack in weapons studies , my friends in the military were also taught that this region is one of the quickest ways to krill . (not giving murder advice just trying to prove a point please don’t ban me) not to mention this is immensely painful . realistically , mans should have dropped then and there . not to mention there were sas soldiers who should have opened fire the second they saw him anyways ??

now THIS is the part that pisses me off the most. see makarov’s lock ? that actively engages the trapezius and scalene muscles , which would be DIRECTLY affected from the stab would . combined with the fact that soap is (estimated) 80-90 kgs , he would not have been able to perform that lock let alone hold it .

and with soap being part of the fucking MILITARY , he should have been able to get out of that by a) breaking the locked arm and using the other hand to either disarm / kill makarov (which he should have been able to handle , especially judging by the fucking alone mission) or b) hitting the back of makarovs knee to send them both to the ground, slip under him to not break his arm and hit em w the buck+trap+flip to get a vantage, and then continue the fight from there, which should be very short anyways considering that makarov’s bleeding out faster than a fucking SNAKE STRIKE . and somehow with the majestic force of activision giving less than 2 fucks about all the characters and medical theory there , makarov manages to get a straight aim and shoot soap straight through the ear ??!! and then bolt past a fuck ton of bullets that should have BEEN FIRED ON HIM EARLIER and then hurl himself INTO A TRAIN . if you wanted to kill of one of the leads in the modern warfare series , do it in a way that is well written and thought out and accurate .

[sugudoe]

❛ 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 愛 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: never one to trust old men in high positions, you decide to follow your guts and track down your best friend to question him on the rumors. what you didn’t expected was to be forced to sit in a small chair and play tea party with two little girls.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: it took me two days to write this, i’m super sick, but i love geto. i also really need to make a masterlist, but i don’t know how to make the link with the name, pls help sos. also reader’s domain name is embarrassing pls ignore it, i’m not good with names. english is not my first language. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: reader’s cursed technique is basically ‘enhanced’, anything they do is 100x more, and it’s heavenly influenced by their emotions, mostly anger and another one very special.

✶ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: friends to lovers, mostly fluff but has a bit of angst, mentions of murder, blood, violence, reader has no gender specified except one part where they are called ‘Queen’ but you can read as you please. reader is a special grade sorcerer. suggestive theme at the end. happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8k

You know the Higher Ups can sense the aggressiveness in your aura. Even behind their so called protection nothing could stop you from slicing them with your bare hands, the thought of that ignites your energy. Behind you, someone gasp.

“I’m going to be gentle and kindly suppose this energy you are emitting comes from your anger towards the criminal Geto Suguru.” A male old voice makes itself present.

“If you want to believe that, then be my guest.” You answer in a heartbeat. Principal Yaga is by your side, that was supposed to be his reunion, but when you heard the talk would be about your best friend, Geto Suguru, you barged in the room before Masamichi.

“You are not supposed to be here, insolent girl.” Another voice, still old and male, speaks to you. You roll your eyes and snicker at it.

“You are talking about an important Special Grade Sorcerer, and I know this talk will reach me eventually. If it is true what you say, is either me or Gojo Satoru you will be sending to try to kill him.” Yaga sighs at your answer, but does not stop you.

“What we say? Haven’t you know? Haven’t you seen the pictures?” The first person ask, voice shaking in anger. “Geto Suguru is a monster who needs to be exterminated, he annihilated a whole village and we have prove to believe his own parents as well.”

“We will not send you, L/n Y/n, for your insolence.” A third leader speaks, much calm and colder than the others. “There will be no such thing as try to kill him, Geto Suguru is certain to die. You and Gojo Satoru may be special graders as well, but your loyalty is stained with the blood of those innocents. Someone else will do the job.”

Principal Yaga’s hand reached your back, you turned to him hesitant, you see his head pointing to the doors outside telling you your time here was over.

You moved faster than anyone could see, leaving the school grounds in mere seconds, you reached the forest and let your anger dissipate in the form of a scream, so loud and so yourself, a barrier was created leaving your throat and splitting the trees in front of you.

“Your cursed technique never fails to amaze me, Y/n.” Gojo appeared behind you, his hands falling from his ears. “Unconditionally, huh? Everything you do, you do majestically. Run, scream, jump, punch…”

“Shut up, Satoru.” The tall boy laughed at that.

“I wonder if it works for all your emotions, don’t you?” Gojo circled you, much like a predator ready to strike. “Your anger is your strong point, am I right?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. “Whenever you are angry, you could break Tokyo with just one punch to the floor.”

“Where are you trying to get with that, Gojo?” It had been too long since the last time you addressed your friend as that, your squeezed your eyes at him, but the boy was unfazed.

“Don’t you think the oldest, most powerful emotion in humanity could change you? Transform you into something more dangerous?” He stops in front of you.

“What could possibly be more strong than anger?”

“It’s, obviously, love. I can feel it in your aura the amount of love you have for Suguru.” Gojo says nonchalant, making you question if you heard right.

“What…”

“He is my best friend as well, Y/n.” The white haired interrupts you. “And I love him enough to want to go after him, but for some reason I can’t. I’m afraid I’ll see something terrible, sense the reality, and try to kill him.” Gojo takes your hand in his. “I don’t think I can kill him, but the thought of trying scares me. I can’t lose him, and neither can you.”

“What do you mean by all that, Satoru?” Your whisper barely reached Gojo.

“If it comes to meeting him, you should do it. Your love for him could be either his salvation or we lose you to him, but I don’t think you would mind that, would you?”

“You think he did it?”

“I don’t want to think.”

A week after that weird conversation, Gojo, Shoko and you had been meeting more than normal in private spaces. For the unknown eye, the three of you are just friends catching up after the loss of the fourth party. But in the reality of your room, Shoko has been using her secret weapon to make Gojo’s plan work — her messages with Geto Suguru about you, cute and overly sweet.

“I don’t like this. I don’t get this!” You mumble on your cat plush, a gift Geto gave you. Your whole face is pink and your lips are numb for the amount of time you have bitten it.

“I don’t get it either. She already loves him too much, no need for this torture.” Shoko laughs at your embarrassed state, when she turns to Gojo, the girl scrunches her eyebrows. “What is it, weirdo?”

You turn to look at Gojo and he is intensely staring at you, which makes you feel uncomfortable, and a little scared.

“You can’t feel it?” He simply ask.

“Feel what?” Taking the pillow from under you, you hug it tight to your chest.

“Feel Geto.” Gojo whisper. “Can’t you sense where he is?”

“How on earth would she be able to do that, Satoru?” Shoko mumbles before grabbing her cigarette and moving towards the window. Unfortunately Ieiri is in Gojo’s presence, and the boy follows her quickly to complain about the smell.

You turn your face down to meet the fluffy cat under you, it’s quite ugly but lovely behind its weird black shaggy tissue. Geto had given it to you after one of your first missions together, he took you to a fair and got you the little fella you kindly named ‘Catoru’.

In your heart you could sense the connection to the ugly thing, linking a string that connected your core to its own, and if you turned down the sound of Shoko and Gojo’s bickering, you could feel a third presence in it. You wondered silently if Satoru was right and your so called love for Geto could create this bridge between the two of you, enough that you could sense him anywhere he was. Could Suguru feel you too?

You tried to focus on that silver string that laced both your heart and the plush, closing your eyes you scanned the deepest part of your soul, of your technique, that you had never been knowledgeable about. It was only in what seemed hours later, you opened your eyes with goosebumps all over you.

You turned back, seeing Gojo and Shoko still arguing — it had only been a few seconds. Maybe you were stronger when it came to fondness, love.

You took some days practicing this new technique and also to make sure Geto was still in the same place, not moving around like the criminal everyone thought of him. If he was still that meant he was innocent, right? It had to be.

Gojo barged into your room on the fourth day, his breath unhinged. You jump out of the bed in a second.

“They already send someone!” You stared at your friend with confusion all over your face. “This Grade One from Russia, they said he will become a Special Grade if he kills Geto. He is strong, I could feel him all across the campus.”

Gojo didn’t stop you when you moved to your bathroom and returned with your uniform. You turned to him, who was now sitting on your bed and hugged his shoulders.

“If this is the last time, you need to know you are my best friend as well. And we may fight a lot, but I would burn this world for you.” You let Gojo go and move towards your door, he stays petrified at the ideia of losing you and Geto. “Tell Shoko I love her as well.”

You leave so quickly, lifting dust from the floor and creating a warm breeze that kisses Satoru’s cheeks and tears.

It takes your half an hour to reach the other string — the location Suguru is. And you find him almost instantly, in the garden of the temple he has settled, he uses traditional clothes and his hair is half up and down. You are taken back by his new look, but mostly by the fact he is fighting the russian sorcerer, and he does seems to be nearly losing.

One of Suguru’s curses launches at the unknown male, and that’s the moment your friend notices you. By the look of his face, he was normal, but his hands instantly trembled in your presence. You start to walk towards him, but the foreigner appears again, his sword nearly slashing Geto’s arm off.

You can feel fear creeping your veins, and it’s not good — Fear makes you weak, but how to avoid it when the man you hold so dearly is fighting a life and death battle?

“I wouldn’t oppose to a little help, sweetheart.” Geto’s voice snapped not only you, but the russian, he punches Suguru, who falls, and turns to you.

“They warned me about you.” He says with a thick accent, pointing his sword in your direction. “They gave me the green light to kill you if you come here. So be patient, love. I’m right at you, gotta end this one first.”

You are disgusted by him, but the way he says “Love” reminds you of your mission, and so you look at Geto, who is already staring at you. He simply smiles, and that turns into fuel for your next movements.

It’s like sliding through water, in a quick second you are behind the foreigner. He turns to you startled, and Geto uses the opportunity to move inside the temple. Before the man can do anything, you punch him in his face, and during his dazed state you move your hands, making your signal.

“Domain expension, Unconditional Disaster.”

It’s not long before you come inside the temple, blood drips from your head to your toes, but you are unharmed. Geto knows this, but he can’t help himself and lunges at you, holding your wet face and searching for any bruises, as if him himself isn’t scattered with some.

“My savior.” Geto laughs quietly, and you can’t help but mimic him. He takes you by your shoulder, tainting his robes, he moves with you to somewhere you don’t care to know. You are in his arms and that’s the place you were meant to be. You wonder if Gojo was right, would you trade anything for Suguru?

Inside an ancient decorated room, Geto grabs a pair of clothes you could only guess belongs to him, he takes your hand and you follow him into the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything when he turns the water to cold, as you have always enjoyed.

During the shower, you can’t help but wonder what is going to happen now. Would another sorcerer be sent to kill you and Geto? Would it be Gojo? He wouldn’t do it, you knew that. A part of you was growing accepting your place besides Suguru, maybe Satoru and Shoko, even Nanami, could come as well, you all would be happy.

You left the bathroom already dressed with Geto’s black sweater and pants, while drying your hair you notice Suguru is not there, and also the eerie feeling the whole building has, with that you hold the towel with a bit of strength, before returning it back to the bathroom. You move towards the door, needing to find Suguru like your life depended on this, but before you reach the door pain shoots through your feet.

“Argh! What the hell…?!”

You turn to look down, and what you would expect to be a knife, turns into a mini lego castle, now dismembered. You scrunch your eyebrows, turning your attention from the toy to the room, you start to notice how Suguru’s room is splattered with a couple of children’s plaything. On the wall next to you there is a mini wooden kitchen, with an equally small dinning table. To your other side, near the bed, a fortress made with blankets, massive pillows and fairy lights, there is also an immense amount of animal plushies. Was Suguru trying to heal his inner child or something?

“Getou-sama!” A high pitched voice comes from behind the door, you jump frightened and for the second time, you land on the lego, now breaking it, a few swear words scape your mouth. “What was that? It’s that his girlfriend, Mimiko?” You don’t hear an answer to that. “Hey lady, can we go inside, pretty pretty prettyyyyyy please?”

“Nanako! Getou-sama told us to let her alone.” The second voice, much more calmer interrupts the first girl.

You bite your lips trying to contain a laugh, especially when you notice the doorknob being shaken. If you could guess, the little girl is trying to open but her height doesn’t help. You sigh, grabbing the broken toy near your feet, dropping in a box near the door and with a slow movement, you open it.

“Oh, you are prettier than Getou-sama described.” The blond girl says as soon as she sees you.

She doesn’t wait for your reaction, quickly grabbing the other’s hand and moving both of them inside the room. You turn to her, but keep still at the door, waiting for maybe Suguru to come in and address what is this.

“Come on, please. I want to have tea with you.” You can guess by her voice and direct personality that she is Nanako. She lefts her friend by the small kitchen and comes to you, closing the door behind and grabbing your hands, she moves both of you towards the dinning table, where she makes you sit. You don’t tell her you are uncomfortable sitting on the extremely small chair, but you can bet she wouldn’t care.

While you are fidgeting in your seat, both Mimiko and Nanako are playing pretend with the fake food in the kitchen. You take the opportunity to stare silently at them. Nanako is, obviously stated before by herself, the extroverted one. The girl keeps glancing at you from time to time, giving you either cute smiles or funny faces, to which you start to return back and she laughs sweetly. Mimiko, you could tell since the beginning, is more shy. The dark haired keeps her head down, she steals some glances at you, but when she notices you are looking, she goes back to her play with crimson cheeks.

“What pie do you want?” Mimiko asks with a slight tremble in her voice. The child comes to you with a plate decorated with wooden pies, you pretend to be inspecting each-one.

“What is your favorite?” Your question takes her by surprise. The plate starts to shake a bit but in her lips a small smile is forming.

“The blueberry one.” Mimiko whispers, pointing with her small finger the one of her choice.

“Then I want that one.”

The girl goes back to the kitchen, putting your ‘desert’ on a pink plate. Nanako turns to you with an also pink teacup.

“Then can you have my favorite tea?” Her pretty brown eyes stare at you like a sad puppy, you know she is trying to make you fall for her, and you do within a second, nodding your head.

When your tea and pie is in front of you, the girls fix their own plates and take a seat on the chairs by either side of you, Nanako specially moving hers closer to you.

“Gerou-sama talks about you a lot.” Nanako says while pretending to eat her raspberry pie, she ‘cleans’ the side of her mouth before looking at you. “Mimiko and I have been begging to meet you. He told us you needed to rest, but I think a tea party is the best way to rest.”

“I agree with you, honey.” The girl smiles at you. “And where is Geto?”

“We waited ‘till he was in the shower.” Mimiko answers you, less shy now. You can’t help but laugh with how sneaky both of them are.

“What does Geto talks about me?” You grab your teacup, raising your little finger like Nanako told you to, and pretend to sip on it.

“He talks about how strong you are, stronger than anyone he had ever met.” Is Nanako who answers you, and Mimiko nods. “Getou-sama also says you are his best friend in the whole world… Well, now he says we are his best friends as well. That’s why we wanted to meet you, the four of us can be good friends, right?”

“Yeah, we are going to be the bestest of friends.” Nanako smiles at that.

“He…” Mimiko starts but pause when you turn to her, you smile encouraging. “He also says he likes you a lot.” The little girl whisper, with her small hands on her mouth. “Do you also like Getou-sama?”

Before you can answer, there is a knock on the door and soon it’s opened by none other than Suguru. Long gone is his traditional clothing, now he wears something identical to you, a large pastel pink sweater with sweatpants. His hair is in his famous bun with his charming bang decorating his pretty face. Suguru’s eyes find you instantly, before catching two little girls who are running out of their seats to try to hide behind you, giggling loud.

“Hm.” Geto simple hums, before closing the door and moving toward you, and you bite your lips to avoid laughing. “You know, Y/n, I was going to introduce you to two little sisters I met a while ago, but I couldn’t find them. You haven’t seen them around, have you?”

“Oh, I haven’t, I’m just here by myself having an one person tea party.” You hear two small laughs after your answer.

“Then why is there two extra plates?” Geto sits in the chair in front of you, in his lips is a large smile you haven’t seen in a long time. You are wonderstruck for a moment, before blinking your eyes and staring at the girl’s plates.

“I was very hungry.” At that, Mimiko and Nanako can’t help but laugh louder, coming out of their hidden spot and tackling Suguru with hugs. He closes his eyes and hold the girls in both his arms. Staring at them, you feel your chest warming with a good feeling, he was still your charming Geto.

For some time, the four of you spend the tea play pretending to delight in the fake food, laughing at Suguru’s imitation of a monarch and addressing both Nanako and Mimiko as princess.

“If Getou-sama is the King, then that means Y/n-sama is his Queen?” Mimiko asks after some time, taking you by surprise.

“Hm, I don’t know. Why would that be?” Suguru turns to the little girl who shrugs her shoulders.

“Well, of course, Mimi!” Nanako answers her sister. “Can’t you see?”

“See what, Nanako?” You catch yourself asking.

“You guys are best friends who love each-other, it’s clear as crystal.” The girl get up from her chair and sits on your lap. You pat her little head and stares at her, avoiding Suguru’s eyes, but you can sense he is focusing on you.

“I think it’s time to go to sleep, girls.” Suguru gets up slowly, when you look at him he is picking Mimiko in his arms. “Don’t even try to give me your puppy eyes, Nanako. I’m avoiding them.”

“But…” Pouting, the girl shifts in your lap, hugging your body and staring at you. Damn, she does have puppy eyes that make you want to give her anything. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetie. I’ll be here in the morning.” You shouldn’t have said that, what if Suguru is only opening his house for you for today. You look at him worried, but sighs when see his beautiful contempt smile. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

Nanako smiles triumphantly, before getting off your lap with a quick kiss to your cheeks, you get up as well and move towards Geto, before you can do anything, Mimiko also kisses your cheek, hers again burning pink.

“Thank you for coming back to Getou-sama.” The girl quietly says, and you pat her head while she hides her shy face in Suguru’s chest. Nanako grabs the man hands and the three of them leave the room, with the girls waving you goodbye.

You turn to the toys around the room and start to clean the dinning table and fix the little mess, trying to occupy your mind from the persistent question: would Geto come back? You hoped so, you wanted to question him on the rumors, but could you possibly do it? You moved towards the bed and sat on it, looking at your hands and remembering the amount of blood you had in it just a couple hours ago — did the same happened to Suguru? Would you still be by his side if it was true?

The door opens a moment later and Geto moves your way so quick, like both of you are magnets. He sits by your side and takes one of your hand in his, his breathing is calm but a part of you can sense the turmoil of his heart.

“How did you knew where I was?” It’s the first thing he says you, his eyes are focused on your tangled hands. “That I needed you? The moment I started to lose that fight, can you believe I prayed for you? And you came.”

“I’ll always come to you, Suguru.” You whisper back, catching his face with your other hand and making he look at you, there is a yellow bruise on his cheek that has your heart breaking. “I knew where you were for some time. Gojo helped me with this… Honestly, I don’t know what it is, there is a connection between you and me, and I followed it to you.”

Geto uses his free hand to caress the one you have on his face, he closes his eyes as if he was finally in peace.

“You want to know the truth, right?” You nod, he doesn’t open his eyes but you know he can sense you do. “I did it.” It’s a quiet confession that has your core shaking. “I went to that village, killed the curse and had to swallow it, the same thing over and over. The monkeys… The non-sorceress took me with them to an abandoned house, leading me to a makeshift cell where there were two sisters, little girls, so beaten their eyes were closed and bruised, their whole body was covered in bruises.” You gasp when you realize Suguru is talking about Mimiko and Nanako. “They have cursed energy, but they didn’t do it, I killed what was tormenting that village and still they were blaming the girls. How could they be so cruel and terrible to defenseless creatures?”

Geto catch his breath before letting go of your hand on his cheeks, he sighs when you remove your hand and his eyes open, moving to the ceiling. You know he wants to cry, that he is frustrate and sad.

“They told me, demanded me, to kill the girls. I couldn’t do it, Y/n, it’s not in my nature, y’know that.” You nod, squeezing his hand. You wouldn’t have killed the girls if you were in his place, but would you have killed the humans? “So, I took the non-sorceress outside and told them everything was fine, the girls were innocent. I begged to take them with me, the assholes wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore. And guess what? They denied me of it, although the girls are orphans, they wanted them for themselves. I was going to open that prison with my bare hands and take Mimiko and Nanako whether they wanted or not. But when I turned back to the house, a man said he would kill the girls himself, and the others agreed.”

You closed your eyes, already knowing how the story ended. Catching your breath, you move your head towards Geto’s chest, and he hugs you instantly.

“What…” You voice is trembling. “What about your parents?”

“I explained to them what happened, but they are non-sorceress, they didn’t understood. Humans are selfish and only trust themselves, they believed the villagers, even when they saw the girls covered in bruised, limpering. I sometimes regret it, but I was so angry, I snapped.”

Suguru’s arms hold you tighter, you could sense the fear he was having right now. After all, he had dropped all his cards at the table, the truth of his murderer nature in front of you, bleeding honesty and terror. You raised your face from his chest and stared at him, the tears shinning his purple eyes fixated on you, only you.

“You can go, if you want.” He says after some time, pain evident in his voice. “Go back to the school, tell them what happened. You can even give them my head if you want.” It hurts your heart that he thinks that of you. But should you do it? Leave Geto, go back to the High Ups and a world of fighting battles against curses, to be killed and replaced by a younger version who will follow your steps, dying as well.

“I want to stay.” You say minutes later. “I want to stay with you, with Nanako and Mimiko. If you would have me.”

Geto’s hands move to your face, staring at your eyes in search for uncertain, for maybe a lie, you can’t tell. You stare at him back with love, after all Gojo was right, you love Suguru more than anything, and have always loved him. From the first day you met each-other, especially right now, where the reality of this cruel life shifted everything you knew. There was no questioning if this decision you made was right, you couldn’t go back to the school after this, your place was by Geto’s side, had always been.

Suguru caress your cheeks, a beaming smile forming on his perfect lips, he touches your forehead with his and the two of you close your eyes. In that moment, you feel his lips on yours, and you don’t take a second to answer his movements, letting his tongue slips in your mouth and his hands fall into your tights, bringing you to his lap. Geto Suguru kisses like a starving man, starving for your love and affection you grant to him so easily, he whimpers under you.

You let his kisses fall to your neck and chest, goosebumps sure to follow, you let Geto be devoted to you like the a deity he worships. He holds you so close, afraid you might disappear somehow, slipping through his fingers. But you don’t, you bring Suguru to your embrace with the same strength he shows you.

That night you know your life changed forever, and maybe the old men with unknown faces and strong powers might send a thousand soldiers to try and kill you, but with Suguru by your side no one could touch you. After all, the ancient and strongest feeling on earth, Love, was the fuel for your powers. And love was with you, in the bed and tangling sheets, love was also in the room next door, sleeping with teddy bears. It was at the other side of Tokyo, white hair and cigarettes, in the future exchanging secrets letters and secret hangouts, even playdates with two more little loves.

You were surrounded by it, emerged in the pure essence. No High Up could come near you or your family, you would make sure of that.

⠀© packsvlog, 2024, 01 june.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Okay hear me out!

(I haven't done this in a while or posted at all in a while but I missed it here and work is sucking my soul out so I'm gonna try to be here more regularly🤞🏻)

The animals in the aquariam event can all be somewhat connected to the characters they were partnered with right?

1.) Lucifer - Orca

Majestic af - Sadistic bastards

2.) Mammon - Shark

Dangerous but also not as much of an asshole as they're made out to be

3.) Levi - Jellyfish

Jellyfish - remind me of LED lights

LED lights - remind me of gamer rooms

Gamer rooms- remind me of Levi

4.) Satan - Catshark

I mean....it's in the name.....

5.) Asmo - Dolphin

Cute but not as sweet as they're made out to be

6.) Beel - Octopus

7.) Belphie - Squid

• Looks kinda mean but actually pretty friendly & adorable to the people they become close with

• I don't know.... as a kid though I always thought of squids as the evil twin of the octopus? even though their generally bigger/rounder eyes make them look cuter

8.) Diavolo - Whale

9.) Barbatos- Oarfish

• Gentle Giants (any actual harm caused is less because of genuine malicious intent and more because they're just that powerful)

• Weird & Mysterious. Gives the vibe of being ancient. Possibly witnessed the birth of the universe. Probably recites prophecies in tongues.

9.) Simeon - Manta Ray

10.) Luke - Penguin

• Do other fish look at manta rays and think they're angels?

• Cute & Cuddly (boys. cute & cuddly.)

11.) Solomon - Polar Bear

The only mammal on the list that can actually live on land = the only human. White colour scheme. Looks friendly & approachable, can brutally murder you.

And here's the "Hear Me Out!" part:

12.) MC - Spotted Seal

• Mammal that can live on land but is most suited for swimming in the water = can live in the human world but functions at their highest potential in the Devildom

• MC canonically has big, puppy dog eyes

• MC canonically is objectively cute

• Kinda dopey on land = passes as an overall average human being in the human world.

• Hunts great in the sea = actually fucking built to survive in the Devildom and thrive there

• Additionally = the myth of selkies - creatures that can shapeshift between a seal & a human. There's been lot of canon evidence that MC is not fully human

[lavandulawrites]

Still Waters

Yandere Nøkken/Nicker (water elf) x reader

Authors note: listening to Grieg while writing this was definitely an experience<3This is my first time writing an x reader with one of my ocs and I had a lot of fun:) If you have any requests or questions about Nøkken or Eilif as my original character’s name is, please let me know!<3

Nøkken/nicker is a Norwegian urban legend. He is a water creature that drags his victims under water. He is known to take many forms, a horse and a beautiful man some of them. (More info at the bottom)

Synopsis: you find yourself by a lake in search of water for your village after your well has run dry. By the door of the lake you met a mysterious man with long black hair playing the fiddle.

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of drowning, manipulation, mention of previous murders, original character, Norwegian folklore,

Word count: 2478

The water in the stream was unruly as you came out onto the lush clearing. The sun was getting low and you regretted going out so late. The well by your small village had run dry, so you were forced to go out and gather water yourself.

A crow cawed in one of the treetops before it took off. As you watched the majestic bird soar over the orange sky, the hair in the back of your neck rose. You knew all too well that venturing outside at dusk was dangerous. Your grandmother had told you tales about beings that resided deep in the forest that lusted for human blood. You had long refused to believe in such stories, but tonight you couldn’t stop your fantasy from running wild.

The sound of a twig snapping pulled you out from your thoughts. Your eyes scanned the stream. It was empty. You sighed in relief as you began your trek up the stream and towards the little lake.

In contrast to the stream the lake was completely still. The beautiful colours from the sky reflected onto the surface. A warm summer breeze gently ruffled your hair as you put your two buckets down on the soft grass.

The gentle melody of a fiddle filled the air. Your heart hammered in your chest as you slowly rose your head.

There on a moss grown stone sat a man. His eyes closed as he played. He had long, slightly wavy hair that reached a little below his elbows. He was truly beautiful.

His eyes slowly opened as his melody came to an end. He tilted his head slightly as he smiled.

“Hello” his voice deep. He shifted his position on the stone and leaned slightly back in a relaxed manner.

“Hello. Beautiful playing” you answered with a shaky voice. The air around him seemed otherworldly. Your intuition told you to run. To run as far away as humanly possible, but something made you determined to stay.

“Thank you” he smiled. “Enjoying the view?” he asked. His green-yellow eyes studied you intensely.

“Umm… I suppose so” you shifted on your feet.

He nodded towards your buckets. “Are you from the village nearby? I have seen you multiple times here. Your well has dried up, if I remember correctly?” he leaned forward slightly.

“Yeah…” your voice low. “It’s my turn to get water” you forced a smile that looked more like a grimace.

He hummed. “I see…” He rose from the stone and slowly walked towards you.

In a blink of an eye he was a few centimetres away from you. His tall stature towering over you. His thin hand gently raised and twisted a strand of your hair around thin fingers. “You are beautiful” he whispered.

You swallowed at his closeness. “Thank you” you smiled slightly back at him. His eyes shone through the dusk light.

“It’s rather rude how your village let you go out here all by yourself. It’s dangerous, plus those buckets are going to be extremely heavy and difficult to carry” his voice was laced with concern.

A shiver ran down your back at his words. He was of course right. It was dangerous, but you didn’t have any choice. You shook your head “Thank you for your concern, but I will be alright. Now if you would excuse me. I need to fill my buckets.”

He blinked slightly before he regained his composure. “Of course” he nodded. He turned and walked towards the stone to pick up his fiddle. His black hair gently rustled in the wind.

You turned your attention to your buckets. You cursed yourself for not bringing the iron buckets as those where much easier to carry than the wooden ones. The water rippled as you brought your first bucket down. A lily pad almost got caught in it. Its white flower petals broke off and got caught underwater. You watched in silence as the flower disappeared.

You sat your full bucket behind you before you started to fill the next one. Water slowly filled the bucket as you stared out into the horizon. The landscape around the lake was beautiful and reminded you of the beautiful paintings you had seen hung in the village church. The trees were lush with green leafs that reached high up towards the sky.

You were about to set your bucket down behind you when you saw a small ripple in the still lake. Your senses were on alert as you scanned the waters. All you could see was beautiful waterlilies. You were about to stand up when something pulled you underwater.

You screamed as something grabbed your right hand. You tried to resist with wriggling and kicking against its hold, but to no avail. It was way too strong. It dragged you further down the dark and chilly lake. You were grateful you automatically took a deep breath when it started pulling you down.

A few light rays shone through the surface and aided your eyes.

With the light you were able to fully open your eyes and see what had dragged you down. The first thing you noticed was a pale hand that tightly held your wrist. The next thing you noticed was long wavy black hair that danced as the creature dove. You suddenly regained the control over your body and you clawed at the hand.

The creature only tightened its hold as it swam faster.

It didn’t take long before you started to choke at the lack of air. You screamed through a closed mouth in fear. Drowning had always seemed extremely terrifying and now as it was happening you had never been more afraid.

The last thing you saw before darkness enveloped you was a cave that lead up to the surface.

Your eyes snapped open and you coughed up water. Whit each couch your lungs protested. Your lungs were on fire and it hurt.

Your eyes darted up towards the sky and you blinked hard as a way to clear your foggy vision. The sight that met your eyes was the sky that was almost completely dark and a face more beautiful than every prince you had ever seen the portraits of. Back started a pair of green-yellow eyes accompanied by long black lashes.

“You’re awake” his voice gentle and filled with relief. “I was getting worried” your eyes shifted to his mouth were you could see four sharp fangs.

You swallowed as your chest heaved up and down. Your nostrils flared as you tried to control your rapid breathing.

The man above you cup you face gently. He stroked his thumbs over your cheekbones and you could feel the ghost of claw-like nails. “Shushhhh….. It’s okay. You’re okay” he shushed you gently.

“Who are you? What happened? Where am I?” your voice was loud and panicked as you looked around. You were by a lake you had never seen surrounded by beautiful wild flowers and the greenest grass.

“Do you really not know? I am sure you must have an inkling feeling of who I am? Right?” he rose his brow as he leaned back. He was straddling you, but he didn’t put his full weight in you. His lips widened slightly up into a little smile.

“I don’t…” you shook your head.

“I see…” he nodded. “It doesn’t matter. Not when you are here. Oh, you have no idea how long I have waited” he grinned. He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. He sat up, causing his black blouse to slid slightly off his shoulder revealing pale skin and some of his lean body.

He stood up and offered you his hand. His hand was cold as you took it. His hand was dry despite him just recently being underwater. He dragged you up with ease and he supported your wobbly knees by holding onto your shoulders as to stabilise you.

“Let me show you my home. The one on the surface that is” he gestured towards a house at the foot of the lake. It was in medium size decorated with fishing nets and bones of various species. Some flowerpots were hanging underneath some of the windows creating a stark contrast between the different aesthetics.

“It not like the royal castle, but it isn’t so bad” he chuckled softly. “I’ll prepare some supper for you.”

You froze in your tracks as you let your eyes fully scan your surroundings. Now that you were standing, you were able to see that you really weren’t near the lake he had dragged you under.

“Aren’t you coming?” he tilted his head.

You nodded slightly. You decided it was better to do as he said rather than getting drowned in the deep lake.

His house was surprisingly cozy. It was decorated in various dark greens and dark blues. Rosemaling in green and blue littered the walls and cabinets.

“Take a seat” he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs.

You did as he said. The chair groaned slightly underneath your weight. And you almost felt guilty dripping water all over his chair. Your gaze trained on his back as he lit the stove and began preparing the fish. He was seemingly skilled in the kitchen as his movements were as fluid as waves.

In a blink of an eye were a plate of fish and steaming potatoes sat in front of you. It smelled heavenly and you sighed.

He chuckled at your reaction. “It will taste even better”. “Do you want some water?” he sat a glass of water in front of you.

You hesitated as you stared the glass of water down. Your heart rate quickened as cold sweat ran down your back. You could see your reflection on the surface.

He took a seat before you. The chair legs scraped against the floor. “Are you alright?”

When you failed to answer him, his eyes widened slightly. “Oh” he stifled a laughter. “You finally realised who I am then” he nodded.

You didn’t take your eyes away from the glass. “If I drink this I’m dead” your voice quiet.

“Why would you be dead? It’s just water.”

“Because I didn’t drown when you dragged me under. If I drink this, I will drown when I swallow” your eyes rose and met his. His expression was unreadable as he stared back at you.

“And why is that? Why would you drown?” his voice devoid of emotion.

“Because… because you are… Nøkken” your voice a mere whisper that was more fragile than a crisp autumn leaf.

He leaned back in his chair. “Nøkken… not many dare say that name” his lips curled up in a small smile.

You gulped. You adverted your gaze from his intense eyes. You were filled with hopelessness and you couldn’t help the crystal tears that fell from your eyes.

“I didn’t try to drown you. I just wanted to bring you here” his voice broke the silence.

You looked back up at him. Confusion clearly written on your face.

“Why would I kill you? You really have no idea about all the effort I went through. Drying that well was no easy task, I tell you that. Not when it was as deep as it was. But I did indeed enjoy luring those crudes you call neighbours, to my lake. Those pitiful screams surly made my day” he sighed in delight. “No, I would never in my wildest dreams kill you, [Name]” he reached for your hand. His long fingers gently wrapped around your hand. “Besides, you didn’t feel thirsty when you woke up did you?” he smiled.

You blinked as you shook your head. No, you had not been thirsty at all. The tales your grandmother had told you said that the victim that was saved from drowning would be thirsty afterwards. When they drank, they would drown on their drink. For such is the power of Nøkken.

“But why?” you asked.

“Because I love you” his smiled widely and his eyes were filled with emotion deeper than the lake he had dragged you under.

You suddenly stood up, causing the chair to fall. “I want to go home” you tried your best to not show fear. It suddenly hit you that he knew your name even though you had never told him. Were you really safe at home? Most likely not.

“No” his voice quiet. He slowly rose to his feet. He stalked towards you like the predator he was.

You backed away from him. Your back hit the wall as you cowered in on yourself. His steps was slow as his eyes looked into yours with determination. “You belong to me. You have belonged to me since the moment I saw you. When you listened to my playing and bared your soul for me by complimenting me, your fate was sealed” his voice was eerie quiet.

He slammed his hands on either side of your head and leaned down. “There is no fighting it. You humans are nothing compared to non-humans. But don’t be afraid. I will never hurt you. Never” he cupped your face. “Since I know your name, it is only fair that I give you mine. That should show you how deep my love for you runs” he looked you deep into your eyes. His eyes more vibrant than ever before. “My name is Eilif.”

“Eilif…” you tasted it on your tongue out loud. A beautiful name which meant alone or immortal. Your face lit up. You knew his name. You knew Nøkken’s name. “Eilif” you said with such determination like ever before.

The man in front of you froze before he lifted an eyebrow. “You thought by calling my name out, I would be forced to let you go. Which is true has it not been for two things”. He raised one finger “Firstly you already let me take a hold of your soul when you gave me your sincere compliments”. He lifted a second finger “Secondly, I didn’t try to drown you. Had I tried just that, then maybe saying my name would have worked.”

You looked at him like a gapping fish. He cooed as he closed your mouth with a thin finger. “Don’t be so surprised darling. Don’t you for one second doubt my devotion to you” he smiled wildly, showing his sharp fangs. He pulled you into a tight embrace. He rested his head on top of your head as he sighed in glee. “You and I will be by each other’s side for eternity. I cannot describe the joy I feel. All my work finally paid off. A man can’t ask for anything better” he kissed the top of your head with his soft lips.

As the Eilif hugged you, you knew that all hope was lost. For how could a mere human compared with the urban legend himself?

Dictionary

Nøkken (nicker in English) explanation: Nøkken is a Norwegian urban legend about a creature that lures people down the depths of waters and wells. He is described to take many forms, a beautiful man one of them. If you hear him playing the fiddle you can learn from him and become exceptionally good, but you would then have sold your soul to the devil. I have made my own version of Nøkken in this fic.

Rosemaling/rose painting: A traditional Norwegian painting technique which consists of rose like motives which is often painted on walled, shelves, cabinets, doors, bowls, spoons and etc.

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 17 "Equinox"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: Wow, we're really, really getting there now and I feel so conflicted about it 😭 I don't want it to end, but I'll also be so happy to wrap up their story ❤️ Thank you for every motivating comment along the way, you're the reason why I kept going ❤️

Reposted from my Ao3💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Day 140

Lurid clouds are chased across the roiling skies, stripped apart by the fierce winds of the high troposphere. Through the cracks in the clouds, the guests and bridal pair witness a macabre glory in the firmament.

God's inverted eye is glaring down on the altar and everyone in its frayed shadow becomes dancing motes at the center of the universe.

Today marks not only the spring equinox and the wedding of Feyd-Rautha and his alien bride, it is also a solar eclipse and Giedi Prime's white moon creeps in front of the black sun like a wandering pupil.

Past the smog-polluted urban canyons of Barony and even past the endless trenches of mines and factories of Gyed are the tasu aurinkosesti — the planes of the ever-sun, closer to the equatorial belt than any Harkonnen-built settlement. While not safe enough for permanent residents, the majestic landscape is just safe enough for festivities overlooked by the full glory of Giedi Prime's volcanos who crane their tapered maws proudly to the black sun.

Here is where nature breaks through the cracks of bleached Earth, dry, short grasses and creeping inkvines. The active volcanoes are gentler masters than the human settlers.

Today, delicate, black garlands flutter from the temporarily erected poles, seats and slender archways which mark two aisles down a semi-circle of hand-picked guests, one thousand of them — Harkonnens only for this special festivity. Stirred by the hot winds from the south, the garlands look not unlike human entrails strung up for a carnival. 

The aisles meet at a slightly elevated pedestal, on it a massive, roughly cuboid slab of obsidian. An ancient altar dented in the middle by the thousands of brides who had laid on it, or been forced to, and spilled their maiden blood onto the stone with the sun as their witness.

Feyd-Rautha's bride won't have to spread her legs on the ancient ceremonial site today. She is an off-worldler and her delicate flesh would be burnt to crisps and become a cornucopia of tumors if she spent but a minute unprotected in the open air. The radiation is strongest near the equator and only her wedding gown keeps her sheltered from it.

Panels of scintillating material shift heavily around her legs, hard but bendy, each layer painted with lead to isolate her flesh from the lurid sun's gamma rays. The gown tapers in at the waist and breasts and crawls over her shoulders, arms, and hands, covering her wholly. Her head is crowned by a veil of the same iridescent panels, protecting hair and face, only the face-panel is see-through. From afar, her shape is entirely otherworldly.

She will be an alien to the populace first, in her looks and in her ways, and then share her humanity. But first, she wants to enjoy the company of her husband and not think about anything for a while, no world-changing battles, no masses in arms.

Her gaze trails along the twisted, black archway that connects both sides of the elevated pedestal, Crowns of Thorns around it twining, Giedi Prime's only native flower. Skywards, God's inverted eye stands directly over the altar, filling her heart with horror and beauty, a feeling she can appreciate because it's not malicious, unlike the many human workings she has encountered in this universe.

Her eyes' appreciative journey ends at the man who will soon be her husband. On the other side of the pedestal, three meters away, stands Feyd-Rautha, the counter-image of her. His bare skin is as white as the chalky terrain and the glaring skies, only his loins are covered by a cloth that is wrapped in ceremonial manner, leaving the sides of his hips and strong thighs exposed. His hands are bare, ringless, and his hip weaponless.

On his exposed belly and chest, she will later be painting the markings of fertility and eternity, a winding symbol like a serpent devouring its own tail.

Feyd-Rautha bares his ink-black teeth, smiling when he sees his woman doing the same beneath her veil, white teeth between her painted lips. While she looks a hundredfold more pompous in her scintillating gown, to her, Feyd-Rautha is the most glorious sight in the world; the way he presents himself to the universe freely now and with no fear.

The drums begin to play and deep-throated chanting soars from the crowd who have risen from their seats, each of them clutching a hand over their hearts. They too have come in ceremonial robes, heavy fabric that reaches down to the knees and a strap of fabric that stretches diagonally across the chest and over one shoulder, leaving one side of the chest exposed — men and women alike.

Feyd and his bride turn to the crowd whose feet raise and stomp down in unison and whose hands mimic the drum beats over their hearts. The ceremonial chanting claps across the planes like thunder from a thousand throats. In the front row are Mikhail Kyelug and Lilia Bauer, the groomsman and bridesmaid by old Earth tradition.

On Mikhail's other side is a man who Feyd-Rautha would have stabbed on sight a week ago. Glossu Rabban looks up to his little brother by the altar, and the Count of Lankiveil is smiling.

Six days prior

"Can't believe you're tired already — hick! — na-Baron!"

It's Baron by now, but Feyd doesn't bother correcting Mikhail as they slouch through the array of corridors which will eventually lead them to the concubines' wing where Feyd has moved in with his wife-to-be, his old quarters burned down together with the Baron's. That is unless they get lost, liquor-blurred eyes blinking into predawn darkness.

"Not tired," Feyd-Rautha protests, shoving his comrade into the nearest wall. The guard bounces right back, sending Feyd staggering.

"So, lovesick?"

"I can go a night without my woman."

"Yeeaah, but you don't wanna." 

There is not a single club in Barony that doesn't have poles for strippers and slaves of every shape, size and age at their disposal, yet neither of the two men have indulged in anything other than alcohol and the occasional pill or pipe tonighr. The physiology of anything living on Giedi Prime is much harder to poison. Common alcohol is barely a challenge for Harkonnen livers, hence why booze from Giedi Prime's distilleries can kill an off-wordler after just a glass.

"It's Bull's Night, so 'course I want my prize at the end of the night."

"Point is you should take some other prize, ya know? Spread out your seed, eh?" Mikhail gesticulates with one hand, drawing complicated circles in the air.

"Did'you spread out your seed before you married Lilia?"

"Nah," Mikhail laughs and Feyd scoffs, grinning to himself. The night has been long and his cheeks are hurting.

The sudden echo of a shoe around the next corner snaps both men out of their drunken banter. These aren't guards' boots. Feyd-Rautha's blade hisses from its sheath and he barges forward, coming to an abrupt halt behind the corner. It is Mikhail who speaks first.

"Beast — hick! — Rabba-ban!"

The stocky frame of Feyd's older brother fills out the hallway. He wears dark brown, a cushioned pad on one shoulder and a sword belt around his hip. A comfortable uniform as it is worn on Lankiveil. He's gotten fatter, Feyd notices through the shock of finding his brother, whom he hasn't seen in over five years, in his palace, let alone while he is drunk and blabbering. 

The sight has burned him sober.

Under his arm, the intruder carries a gift box, beige with a crinkled but shiny, golden ribbon tied around it in sloppy loops.

"What are you doing here?" Rabban rumbles, mouth standing open in bewilderment. 

"It's early morning. What are you doing here?" Feyd snaps back sharply, muscled shoulder angled towards his brother who is still several feet away.

"I was on my way to your room."

"My room isn't that way anymore."

Rabban can't find it in him to close his mouth, but he does plod into Feyd-Rautha's personal space, uncaring of the way his younger brother twitches and how his long limbs tense themselves to lunge. Despite his drunkenness, Mikhail's fist is screwed tight around the handle of his half-unsheathed blade and the smaller man is poised like a guard dog behind his Baron and friend.

After a moment, Feyd exhales a slow lungful of air. "Go now," he orders and gives the tense guard a firm slap on the shoulder and a little squeeze. 

"Are ya sure, my Lord?" Mikhail hesitates until Feyd-Rautha squeezes his shoulder again.

"Go and mount your woman. She must have been waiting for you all night. And tell mine not to come here!"

Mikhail sheathes his blade with a noisy hiss and trails around Rabban in a curious half circle before wandering off into the hallway, a sway to his footsteps as he keeps muttering that he needs to tell Lilia about Beast - hick - Rabban.

Looking past Feyd's raised, wicked blade, Glossu's dark brown eyes find his brother's icy blue ones and Feyd is enraged when Rabban's cheeks fill up with laughter out of all things. 

"How did you get in here? You're not invited." Feyd rumbles, tilting the blade’s tip towards Rabban’s neck. “You should kiss your Baron's feet and beg him for forgiveness for trespassing.”

Still, the older brother disregards his sibling’s threat and merely tightens his grip on the curious box. He doesn’t even bother to draw his sword. Feyd is seething.

"I'm still a Harkonnen by blood. I don't need to be invited to attend my little brother's wedding."

Feyd-Rautha snarls at that. Being a few inches taller and considering himself considerably smarter than Glossu in every regard, he sees himself as anything but the little brother.

"You're not a Harkonnen, you're a Rabban and you're dressed like one too."

"You're a Rabban as much as I am! You would look good in a uniform like mine." 

Feyd's brows knit together in bewilderment. "I look nothing like a Rabban."

"You look just like our mother," Glossu barks and Feyd hisses through bared teeth, pupils shrunken to deadly pinpricks.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to attend my little brother's wedding."

"I'm not your little brother, you dumb boar."

"You'll always be my little brother!"

"And you've taken the title of big brother literally as of late? You look fat. Have you been drinking?"

"A little," his brother admits. Now being way past fifty, Glossu 'Beast' Rabban looks old and bloated and Feyd finds it hard to believe that he could have ever looked up to his older sibling.

"Say what you want in my palace or feel my blade in your neck."

"I've only been truthful to you," Rabban insists. "I came to celebrate and to… talk.  I'm happy for you."

"Are you now?" Feyd tilts his head in cold mockery.

"I hope I get to meet your woman one day. I've heard plenty of rumors, ranging from heartwarming to mind boggling."

Feyd would rather keep his brother a thousand miles away from his wife to be. The last time they had seen each other, they had clashed with blades and teeth. Rabban, spraying spittle, had yelled that he would shatter everything his spoiled prince of a brother calls his own to pieces, and Feyd had made a gashing cut along Rabban's ribs, snarling with honeyed voice that even a pig had higher chances at success.

There was no love lost between the brothers.

"What's in there?" Feyd's gaze darts to the beige box under Glossu's arm and flits back up with resharpened coldness. But no icy glare can hide the fact that he's taken the bait, like a boy who can't resist a candy bar dangled in front of his face.

"It's for you," Glossu beams and offers the box all too freely. Feyd can't remember a time when his brother had ever willingly shared, let alone given.

Opening a mystery present from Rabban might as well be his last foolish mistake, but Feyd too may be a bit drunk, a bit drugged, and his curiosity kindled a bit too much by this irritating encounter.

"Open it," Feyd demands, holding the blade unwavering at Rabban's neck. His brother complies, pulling on the bow so it flutters to the ground, then wrapping one thick hand around the lid to lift it.

Feyd had expected many things, but not that.

From inside, a soft thing meets his incredulous stare and Feyd-Rautha's free hand lifts slowly, sliding into the box to pick up the item with pointy fingers. He holds it at arm's length, as if its soft fur might bite, and rotates it by the flipper. A stitched face with a little snout regards him, black marbles for eyes, handmade. It's a seal, its plush made of brown whale fur. Some spots are lovingly worn and matted by young, playful hands.

"Why don't you just go over there and say that you want it?" A man's droning baritone. "Because I don't want it!" Icy wind whistles around the fur hood of Feyd's coat, along with the scent of pines, roasted almonds and smoked meat. "So you tugged on my sleeve because you don't want it? You're a big boy now, you can go over there. Are you scared?" "Let's go! You're stupid!" Feyd yowls and the faceless man laughs as the little boy fruitlessly pushes against his thick leg to get him to move away from the market stall. Blades clatter when he throws himself against the man's hip. "No, no, no! I hate you!" A pair of muscled arms sweep up his body like he's only a doll and throw him over a broad, fur-clad shoulder. Feyd finds himself thrashing against the coat that covers the man's back with his tiny fists.

“You remember it?” Rabban laughs and Feyd hates the way a web of crow’s feet spreads around his brother's eyes. It makes him look aged.

“No,” he snarls like a dog. 

“But I do." Rabban points at the stuffed seal. "I got it for you.” 

"You?!" The muscles of Feyd's hairless brows tic upwards in perplexity. The man from that wicked memory was not his father then? But he had looked so tall and big and grown-up. The idea that his bull-headed brother had been kind to him once and did something as mundane as take him to the market and buy him a toy is one that Feyd viciously rejects. It stands out jarringly against the brutal colors that paint his concept of family.

“You acted like you didn’t want to have it. Thought I wouldn't see the way you looked at it, big eyes and all. You thought it was embarrassing to have a— a plushy thing.” Rabban’s voice falters, like there is more hidden there. Old anguish that hurts so freshly when he sees his grown-up baby brother with an old toy in hand. Baron now. “You really don’t remember?”

“I remember that you threw me over your shoulder like a big brute. So, you’ve always been a boar, even then.” Feyd’s eyes glint like his blade as the pale dawn that creeps over the horizon, shedding light through the arched windows between bulging pillars.

“Yeah, I did that!” Rabban dares to fill the quiet morning air with guffawing laughter once more. "You were so small and light. You were on my knees a lot, brother. Used to sit there and watch me whet my blades. You still whet them like I showed you back then, do you know that?" 

"I was never on your fat knees, brother, and if I was, it must have been by force." 

Feyd's left forearm ricochets into Rabban's chest, pinning him to the wall. The blade pokes into the side of the bulkier man's neck, sharp and glinting like a snake tooth and Feyd’s features are screwed into deadly violence. 

Rabban grunts in a way that Feyd finds downright pathetic when the back of his head hits the solid tiles, barely fighting against his baby brother's assault. His eyes are squeezed into crinkled lines. From up close, one can see the blotchiness of Rabban's puffy face. Feyd sneers.

"You'll die younger than our uncle if you go on like this," he comments on his brother's tumid appearance and scratches the blade tip against his cheek. “You embarrass your Baron.”

Rabban shrugs his shoulders and releases a puff of air from trembling lips. It bewilders him that even though he’s afraid, he wouldn’t mind if his little brother slit his neck right here. At the very least, he would die at the hand of the last person he had ever loved. “You’re no Baron to me, you’re just my baby brother.”

Glossu Rabban prepares himself for metal to sink into his neck in quick, searing pain, like he had seen Feyd do so often, a boy sharpened into violent psychosis by a violent man. But his brother's presence only grows deadly silent until Rabban opens his eyes. Feyd has never liked capable prey who doesn’t fight back. His younger brother’s expression is hard to read, shielded always by a wall of either fire or ice. Does that woman who he is to marry ever see him without? Glossu is almost jealous.

“Do you remember any of your childhood?” Rabban finds his own voice meek and brittle, thoughts drifting to a warm, cozy nursery, a round carpet on the floor, an arm chair and a toy chest on the floor, an ever-blue sky and icy hills covered in lush pines which seem to tickle the ivy firmament. The room is still unchanged in the Lankiveil fortress, a capsule of the past, waiting for the little boy who still lives somewhere in Feyd-Rautha.. "Our home?"

"I don't. Giedi Prime is my home," Feyd bites and his seething lips nearly brush against his brother’s. It is a home now that his uncle is gone.

"It is not!" Rabban suddenly bristles and shoves Feyd-Rautha’s blade aside, cutting his sleeve on it. "You know what's a good home?! Caladan. Or Kaitain. Or Lankiveil."

"You're not even a Harkonnen anymore, brother. You disgust me."

"And neither are you! We're half Harkonnen! I took after our father…" Rabban rubs over his ever-hairless skull and the many old battle scars there. "But you had blonde hair once, did you know that? And there would be snow on it when you came inside from playing."

"I wasn't playing!"

"Yes, you were!" Spit sprays over Feyd's chest, narrowly missing the stuffie which he has come to cradle unwittingly against his chest, and Feyd's eyes flash with offense. "You were a little boy, of course you were playing! You were three when I—" Rabban halts and anguish twists his aged features. He is fifty-five now and suddenly it shows. Suddenly, Feyd can only see his brother as what he is, an old veteran fallen from grace, drinking the rest of his brain away on Lankiveil. Rabban adds with a thick voice: “I always tried to be there.”

“Where?”

“With you! Everyone knew that our mother didn't want you. But I tried to be there.”

The vicious fire in Feyd's stomach dies to frozen ashes and his teeth are screwed into his bottom lip. The extended blade quivers and his fingers dig into soft fur. “What are you talking about?”

Rabban shrugs again and looks down at the stuffed seal like he hopes the magma channels will open up beneath the palace and swallow him whole. “Our parents had you under the premise that you would be given to our uncle as an heir. It was father’s and uncle's idea. A good deal. You don’t deny House Harkonnen when it offers wealth and reputation in exchange for something so…” So little.

So that’s what he had been all his life. A good deal and nothing more. Feyd wants to sink his blade into his own crunching bones.

Rabban’s face snaps back up with sudden vehemence. “Our mother could never look you in the eyes and it hurt me to see it! When you were born, I thought I would hate you. Who wants a sibling when they’re already past twenty?! But I couldn’t hate you. You were so little…”

Feyd can’t speak, his jaws clenched into a painful vise, so Rabban goes on. “You always tried to get her attention, but she never relented. She wouldn't even hold you to her own breasts for milk."

"Shut up."

"That woman you're going to marry, what is she like?" 

“I said shut up!"

Only Emmi Rabban knew the real reason why she couldn’t hold little Feyd-Rautha Rabban. It was not her husband's and her brother in law's idea, even though she let them think it was. It was the Bene Gesserit who needed her little Feyd for their breeding program, who needed him honed and sharpened the Harkonnen way because she, Emmi, had failed to raise Glossu as a respectable son. Too wild, too dumb they said. She hated herself so much for birthing Feyd-Rautha under this pretense, that she couldn't love her little boy, for she knew she couldn't bring herself to give him away if she ever started loving him.

“Sorry.” Glossu's voice quivers and it’s pathetic, so pathetic, Feyd thinks. His own breath does something quite similar.

"So, you're telling me you were the good guy all along? The good big brother?"

"Not all along, no," Rabban draws a hard breath. “You always wanted to be like me. That's why you became like this.” He spits it out like it’s a bad thing. “When I killed our father, I killed our mother and my baby brother too, I just didn't know it yet.” Fat tears roll down Glossu’s cheeks and he doesn’t even care to wipe them away.

Feyd suddenly remembers why he had felt such satisfaction when his mother looked at him with fright when he sunk the blade into her neck at night, when she was tucked into bed, helpless. He had always envied the way their mother looked fearfully at Glossu, because at least she looked at him. 

“I killed our father because he deserved it for the plan he made with our uncle. And mother… She suddenly said that you are her only son. It was worth it for me. But the deal hadn’t died with our father and then someday uncle showed up and I think you… You wanted to punish her. You wanted to be like me, so you killed her, and uncle was so impressed.” Glossu exhales shakily. “I would have killed him too, but… I visited you on Giedi Prime after your first months there, you know? I saw what he did to you. You were covered in bruises and I… did nothing. And you grew mean. And you had every right to. But with no one else left to hate, I started hating you, for many years. It’s all my fault.” 

Glossu Rabban cries into his fist’s and Feyd-Rautha traps his sobs within his throat, which hurts like a blade was stuck in it. But no matter how tightly he seals his throat, it doesn’t keep his eyes from going blurry and the hot, salty wetness from spilling down his cheeks.

Present Day

Rabban smiles encouragingly, fist beating down on his thick chest to the mighty echo of the drums. Feyd tilts his head, smiling too, shoulders squared and chin held high, even as his heart plummets into his stomach.

The rhythm changes, becomes uncharacteristically softer and gentler. Quick, almost like cats' paws chasing over the plains. The ring bearer is released into the aisle, holding one ring in each quivering face-hand. Big, pearlescent eyes seek out the man and woman at the end of the aisle who both hold out their hands encouragingly, but they are so far away and so many strangers sit and gawk all around.

Glugo shivers, cowering. 

Until the two other faces it has grown to love leap up from their seats in the front row and hurry all the way to the back, offering one hand each. Glugo is lucky to have more than enough hand-feet to hold each offered hand in two of its own and strut down the aisle with newfound confidence. The distance shrinks rapidly and it clambers up on top of the pedestal all on its own. Its half-human heart is terribly proud as it holds up the rings as high as it can reach, looking from Feyd to the bride and back. Glugo doesn't like her gown. One hand-foot fingers the splayed, lead-coated plastic panels which are anything but soft. She should have worn a blanket or a fur cloak, it thinks.

"Well done," she praises softly, stroking over the top of Glugo's head with one gloved hand.

"Thank you, my friend" Feyd rasps and the drums fade away entirely when the bride and groom pick up the rings, him holding hers and her holding his.

The wedding bands are blacker than the universe itself, held up against the lurid sky. Forged out of obsidian from Giedi Prime's volcanic mines, they have been chemically reinforced to withstand the eons.

Glugo climbs bravely back down and joins Lilia and Mikhail in a comfortable basket at their feet, loafing and watching attentively.

As Glugo leaves, the master of ceremonies steps onto the raised platform from behind the altar. The tattoos that cover his torso in thick, blocky stripes make him appear almost fully dressed, even though he is clad in only a toga, with black panels of fabric twining loosely around his arms. Nodding towards the Baron and his Lady, the man readies his throat to speak, but a timid servant who comes scurrying from the side beats him to it.

"Eruption imminent, my Lord," the scrawny man murmurs and points to Feyd-Rautha's side where a jagged vent has begun spewing black, billowing smoke into the firmament. A thousand heads turn to the mountain ridge, each towering giant an active volcano. The earth growls and moans beneath their feet.

"Should we evacuate?" The bride's worried voice comes muffled from beneath the layers of scintillating plastic.

"No, we will proceed," Feyd-Rautha decides, turning back to her, leaving the volcanoes at his back in plain sight for her. "Let my bride see the glory and beauty of our world."

She inhales shakily, squaring her shoulders when Feyd grins, blinking in cat-like manner.

"Very well!" The announcer speaks, his recognizable voice as loud as a war horn. When he raises his arms above his head, a fierce breeze picks up the panels fluttering from his pale arms. The wind carries notes of ash. "Let us commence the holy union of our beloved leader, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen and his chosen bride! The planet itself celebrates with us!"

Drums begin to boom like thunder, punching a rhythm that pumps red and black blood alike through their veins in a rapid chase. At every fifth beat, the crowd throws their hands up high, chanting. At every tenth beat, the next gust of smoke billows over the crater edge. The man who can make his voice heard across an entire arena has no trouble outdoing the drums.

"The rumors are true, dear people, dear Harkonnens. Our bride is a woman of lost, ancient kingdoms, a relic, the first astronaut! Imagine the ancient secrets she will share with our new Lord, with us!" The announcer punches his fists wildly in the air, black teeth bared in a gashing crescent. "This spring equinox marks the dawn of a new age for our glorious House!"

The planet's crust screams in agreement and gives birth to sparkling rivulets of black, hot lava with an earth-shattering roar. Like ghastly fireworks, they splash against the storm-battered, frosted sky.

The announcer laughs, clutching the bride and groom by the arms. "Foretold by dreams, their union is now written in the flesh!"

Feyd-Rautha curls his palm around her covered cheek and she does the same to him, gloved hand cool against his skin. She is gawking in awe at the terrible spectacle at his back, but a soft tilt of Feyd's head is enough to snare her attention back to him. His uncanny beauty outshines even the brutal convulsions of Giedi Prime.

"Speak after me," the announcer hollers. "I swear by the blood and the flesh that my heart belongs to my Manducor, in life and in death. The honor to devour it after my passing goes to my Manducor and my Manducor alone. The glorious, black sun is my witness."

Manducor means heart eater. Days prior, when Feyd came  home drunk and weepy after his Bull's Night, he had confessed to her that he had always been afraid of dying, because he knew his uncle would eat his heart in a final, cruel violation. But not anymore, he had whispered with such fondness that she now finds it easy to repeat the words and mean them.

Her voice is amplified by a device offered by the announcer and her words roll like a tidal wave across the semi circle of guests. Feyd-Rautha's features twitch in euphoria, eyes gleaming like the lava that rolls in hot rivers down the mountain flank. Like an animal ready to pounce, his voice quivers when he repeats the sacred words.

The drums' chasing rhythm crests and the screams that rise from a thousand mouths are guttural and primal. The volcano hisses above, the earth howls below and Feyd-Rautha claims his bride to the grandest cacophony of man and nature.

Lilia cries and presses Glugo's head to her knee. A beaming Glossu Rabban shakes Mikhail's hand.

The relic's palms meet Feyd's belly when he crosses the distance in one powerful stride, sliding over the twitching hills of his muscles when he parts her veil up to the nose, baring her painted lips to the scalding air.

"My woman, I love you," her husband snarls before his lips find hers in needy violence, taking her breath while her fingers curl around his back and dig into his flesh. 

With one radioactive kiss, their bond is sealed, hearts, flesh and souls bound for all beautiful, horrifying eternity.

The Garden releases its last radiance, not as something failed, but as its full reason for being: to give continually, to its last bit of energetic being. Its giving is its beauty. It is a smile, it is the heart of love. Even the smell of decay, drifting from the deer, dead by the side of the road, says: “This is what I am and no other. I do not pretend to be. Even in death I speak without deceit, even unto my flesh, my very bones.

- Equinox by Richard Wehrman

A/N: See you in the, starts sobbing , last chapter 🥺🥺🥺

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Every internet fight is a speech fight

THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

My latest Locus Magazine column is "Hard (Sovereignty) Cases Make Bad (Internet) Law," an attempt to cut through the knots we tie ourselves in when speech and national sovereignty collide online:

https://locusmag.com/2024/11/cory-doctorow-hard-sovereignty-cases-make-bad-internet-law/

This happens all the time. Indeed, the precipitating incident for my writing this column was someone commenting on the short-lived Brazilian court order blocking Twitter, opining that this was purely a matter of national sovereignty, with no speech dimension.

This is just profoundly wrong. Of course any rules about blocking a communications medium will have a free-speech dimension – how could it not? And of course any dispute relating to globe-spanning medium will have a national sovereignty dimension.

How could it not?

So if every internet fight is a speech fight and a sovereignty fight, which side should we root for? Here's my proposal: we should root for human rights.

In 2013, Edward Snowden revealed that the US government was illegally wiretapping the whole world. They were able to do this because the world is dominated by US-based tech giants and they shipped all their data stateside for processing. These tech giants secretly colluded with the NSA to help them effect this illegal surveillance (the "Prism" program) – and then the NSA stabbed them in the back by running another program ("Upstream") where they spied on the tech giants without their knowledge.

After the Snowden revelations, countries around the world enacted "data localization" rules that required any company doing business within their borders to keep their residents' data on domestic servers. Obviously, this has a human rights dimension: keeping your people's data out of the hands of US spy agencies is an important way to defend their privacy rights. which are crucial to their speech rights (you can't speak freely if you're being spied on).

So when the EU, a largely democratic bloc, enacted data localization rules, they were harnessing national soveriegnty in service to human rights.

But the EU isn't the only place that enacted data-localization rules. Russia did the same thing. Once again, there's a strong national sovereignty case for doing this. Even in the 2010s, the US and Russia were hostile toward one another, and that hostility has only ramped up since. Russia didn't want its data stored on NSA-accessible servers for the same reason the USA wouldn't want all its' people's data stored in GRU-accessible servers.

But Russia has a significantly poorer human rights record than either the EU or the USA (note that none of these are paragons of respect for human rights). Russia's data-localization policy was motivated by a combination of legitimate national sovereignty concerns and the illegitimate desire to conduct domestic surveillance in order to identify and harass, jail, torture and murder dissidents.

When you put it this way, it's obvious that national sovereignty is important, but not as important as human rights, and when they come into conflict, we should side with human rights over sovereignty.

Some more examples: Thailand's lesse majeste rules prohibit criticism of their corrupt monarchy. Foreigners who help Thai people circumvent blocks on reportage of royal corruption are violating Thailand's national sovereignty, but they're upholding human rights:

https://www.vox.com/2020/1/24/21075149/king-thailand-maha-vajiralongkorn-facebook-video-tattoos

Saudi law prohibits criticism of the royal family; when foreigners help Saudi women's rights activists evade these prohibitions, we violate Saudi sovereignty, but uphold human rights:

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-55467414

In other words, "sovereignty, yes; but human rights even moreso."

Which brings me back to the precipitating incidents for the Locus column: the arrest of billionaire Telegram owner Pavel Durov in France, and the blocking of billionaire Elon Musk's Twitter in Brazil.

How do we make sense of these? Let's start with Durov. We still don't know exactly why the French government arrested him (legal systems descended from the Napoleonic Code are weird). But the arrest was at least partially motivated by a demand that Telegram conform with a French law requiring businesses to have a domestic agent to receive and act on takedown demands.

Not every takedown demand is good. When a lawyer for the Sackler family demanded that I take down criticism of his mass-murdering clients, that was illegitimate. But there is such a thing as a legitimate takedown: leaked financial information, child sex abuse material, nonconsensual pornography, true threats, etc, are all legitimate targets for takedown orders. Of course, it's not that simple. Even if we broadly agree that this stuff shouldn't be online, we don't necessarily agree whether something fits into one of these categories.

This is true even in categories with the brightest lines, like child sex abuse material:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2016/sep/09/facebook-reinstates-napalm-girl-photo

And the other categories are far blurrier, like doxing:

https://www.kenklippenstein.com/p/trump-camp-worked-with-musks-x-to

But just because not every takedown is a just one, it doesn't follow that every takedown is unjust. The idea that companies should have domestic agents in the countries where they operate isn't necessarily oppressive. If people who sell hamburgers from a street-corner have to register a designated contact with a regulator, why not someone who operates a telecoms network with 900m global users?

Of course, requirements to have a domestic contact can also be used as a prelude to human rights abuses. Countries that insist on a domestic rep are also implicitly demanding that the company place one of its employees or agents within reach of its police-force.

Just as data localization can be a way to improve human rights (by keeping data out of the hands of another country's lawless spy agencies) or to erode them (by keeping data within reach of your own country's lawless spy agencies), so can a requirement for a local agent be a way to preserve the rule of law (by establishing a conduit for legitimate takedowns) or a way to subvert it (by giving the government hostages they can use as leverage against companies who stick up for their users' rights).

In the case of Durov and Telegram, these issues are especially muddy. Telegram bills itself as an encrypted messaging app, but that's only sort of true. Telegram does not encrypt its group-chats, and even the encryption in its person-to-person messaging facility is hard to use and of dubious quality.

This is relevant because France – among many other governments – has waged a decades-long war against encrypted messaging, which is a wholly illegitimate goal. There is no way to make an encrypted messaging tool that works against bad guys (identity thieves, stalkers, corporate and foreign spies) but not against good guys (cops with legitimate warrants). Any effort to weaken end-to-end encrypted messaging creates broad, significant danger for every user of the affected service, all over the world. What's more, bans on end-to-end encrypted messaging tools can't stand on their own – they also have to include blocks of much of the useful internet, mandatory spyware on computers and mobile devices, and even more app-store-like control over which software you can install:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

So when the French state seizes Durov's person and demands that he establish the (pretty reasonable) minimum national presence needed to coordinate takedown requests, it can seem like this is a case where national sovereignty and human rights are broadly in accord.

But when you consider that Durov operates a (nominally) encrypted messaging tool that bears some resemblance to the kinds of messaging tools the French state has been trying to sabotage for decades, and continues to rail against, the human rights picture gets rather dim.

That is only slightly mitigated by the fact that Telegram's encryption is suspect, difficult to use, and not applied to the vast majority of the communications it serves. So where do we net out on this? In the Locus column, I sum things up this way:

Telegram should have a mechanism to comply with lawful takedown orders; and

those orders should respect human rights and the rule of law; and

Telegram should not backdoor its encryption, even if

the sovereign French state orders it to do so.

Sovereignty, sure, but human rights even moreso.

What about Musk? As with Durov in France, the Brazilian government demanded that Musk appoint a Brazilian representative to handle official takedown requests. Despite a recent bout of democratic backsliding under the previous regime, Brazil's current government is broadly favorable to human rights. There's no indication that Brazil would use an in-country representative as a hostage, and there's nothing intrinsically wrong with requiring foreign firms doing business in your country to have domestic representatives.

Musk's response was typical: a lawless, arrogant attack on the judge who issued the blocking order, including thinly veiled incitements to violence.

The Brazilian state's response was multi-pronged. There was a national blocking order, and a threat to penalize Brazilians who used VPNs to circumvent the block. Both measures have obvious human rights implications. For one thing, the vast majority of Brazilians who use Twitter are engaged in the legitimate exercise of speech, and they were collateral damage in the dispute between Musk and Brazil.

More serious is the prohibition on VPNs, which represents a broad attack on privacy-enhancing technology with implications far beyond the Twitter matter. Worse still, a VPN ban can only be enforced with extremely invasive network surveillance and blocking orders to app stores and ISPs to restrict access to VPN tools. This is wholly disproportionate and illegitimate.

But that wasn't the only tactic the Brazilian state used. Brazilian corporate law is markedly different from US law, with fewer protections for limited liability for business owners. The Brazilian state claimed the right to fine Musk's other companies for Twitter's failure to comply with orders to nominate a domestic representative. Faced with fines against Spacex and Tesla, Musk caved.

In other words, Brazil had a legitimate national sovereignty interest in ordering Twitter to nominate a domestic agent, and they used a mix of somewhat illegitimate tactics (blocking orders), extremely illegitimate tactics (threats against VPN users) and totally legitimate tactics (fining Musk's other companies) to achieve these goals.

As I put it in the column:

Twitter should have a mechanism to comply with lawful takedown orders; and

those orders should respect human rights and the rule of law; and

banning Twitter is bad for the free speech rights of Twitter users in Brazil; and

banning VPNs is bad for all Brazilian internet users; and

it’s hard to see how a Twitter ban will be effective without bans on VPNs.

There's no such thing as an internet policy fight that isn't about national sovereignty and speech, and when the two collide, we should side with human rights over sovereignty. Sovereignty isn't a good unto itself – it's only a good to the extent that is used to promote human rights.

In other words: "Sovereignty, sure, but human rights even moreso."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/06/brazilian-blowout/#sovereignty-sure-but-human-rights-even-moreso

Image: © Tomas Castelazo, www.tomascastelazo.com (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Border_Wall_at_Tijuana_and_San_Diego_Border.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

[animeyanderelover]

Chrollo and avatar!fem!reader, please 😭😭

Fun fact: I have never watched Avatar The Last Airbender before. I only watched some episodes during my childhood when the show aired on TV so do forgive me if I got something wrong.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, stalking, blackmailing, isolation, abduction, murder, fem! s/o

Taglist: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59

Avatar reader

📖​The Avatar, the embodiment of peace and light. And you, chosen as the next reincarnation who will master all four elements to eventually surpass all other bender and bring with you balance and harmony. Yet when the world needed the Avatar the most, she disappeared. This is the tale passed down through generations, a tale reminiscent of the contents you would find inside a children's book. The world offers much that is still left to be discovered and every tale always has a grain of truth in it. It's through the words of a dying monk who used to be your teacher that Chrollo receives a taste of the fascination that will one day bring with it an obsession. Fickle candlelight symbolising the life about to extinct, half of his face dipped into darkness as apathetic eyes watch with a strange sense of curiosity the skinny man. Bedridden and blind yet with a soul far wiser than many people Chrollo has ever met, milky eyes unable to see yet still able to perceive the harbinger of chaos and death sitting right next to him in the last minutes of his life. Chrollo only slightly bemoans that he is not able to steal the Nen of the wise monk yet he leaves with a treasure much more precious in the end.

📖​Fools have been chasing after legends and its promised treasures for millenia and perhaps from the outside it may appear as if Chrollo is faring no better yet he doesn't wish for the truth to be handed out to him on a silver plate. There is enjoyance he finds within the hunt, each little hint he discovers only adding to the anticipation. Other treasure, whilst satisfying him for brief moments, do not fulfill him. It is you who he desires most to find and to claim for you hold secrets and powers that he wishes to have for himself. Dedication and patience are virtues Chrollo practices each and every day as time passes in leaps, days turning into weeks and weeks into months. Until one day he finally finds what he has been seeking for such a long time. A short hint of melancholy is on his face as she strides over to the wall of ice you are frozen into, tiny needles of coldness stabbing into his skin as he lays his palm against the frozen material separating him from you. It's strange. Both of you have never met before yet finally seeing you feels almost like meeting an old friend he hasn't seen in years. If only you would know how long he has searched and waited for you.

📖​Asleep for an entire century only to be thrown into a world who is in many aspects still the same yet simultanously so different. You are unprepared when you are woken up from the slumber you accidentally put yourself into, the only companion from old times still left being your flying bison. There are many unfamiliar faces that surround you as soon as you open your eyes and with no living peers left and awake in a world you fail to understand you find yourself attempting to befriend those new people with an underlying sense of desperation and loneliness. It's those emotions that Chrollo intends to use against you, luring you innocent butterfly in his spider's net to trap you and devour you. You're alone, you're scared and you're vulnerable even if you may hide it under your reckless and humorous facade. There is none of the wise intuition in you that your deceased teacher possessed which would have made everything more difficult for Chrollo. Animals have always had a keen intuition though so it is your flying bison that greatly distrusts him, sensing the demon's hands trying to touch it. Truly a shame for it is such a majestic creature. He wonders just what price he'd get for this species.

📖​It is like watching a child discover the world around it, only that he is dealing with a grown adult. You have an adventurous and free spirit much like the wind, frequently taking detours much to the annoyance for some of the other members of the troupe. Chrollo asks them all for patience though for you are much too precious and interesting to be thrown away right away. Years he has searched for you so he does not intent to steal your abilities right away. No, he intends to get to know the real you and not the you in all the old books and stories that he has sought out over time. He's fascinated with your soul, so young and yet so old and the connection with your previous lives that slumber somewhere within you. So he allows your shenanigans for he needs to gain your full trust, listens intently whenever you're willing to share your stories from your childhood and your time spent with the monks who raised you and trained you. Hide it as much as you may, he spots that hint of guilt and sadness as the knowledge that all the people that you treasured have been dead for years is a weight heavy to carry. Your pain is the path he needs to get closer to you though so he wishes for you to dwell in your sorrow.

📖​Your mindset is one that he is not able to understand and it only draws him closer to his nearing obsession. Raised by monks you were taught that all life is precious, a lesson he has never heard before. After all he grew up in Meteor City where humans were equal to trash. To be abandoned, neglected and forever forgotten about. Yet here you are, telling him that all life is equally worth? It is amusing yet Chrollo knows that reality is rarely as pretty as the ideals you believe in. A part of him wishes to drag you down that corrupted path, to destroy your beliefs and see your conviction shatter under the weight of reality. Another part of him almost wishes to shelter such purity so you may always remain naive and believe in your lessons passed down by your teachers. Such power as you possess is truly not fit for one unwilling to yield it. There is no conflict won through words and hopes as corruption and violence will always follow. Chrollo has observed humans long enough to realise that only few are as foolish as you are. The foolish ones are usually always the first ones to die as they are the ones who are trampled on, nothing more as a stepping stones for others.

📖​He's been the hand holding you and guiding you ever since you awoke from your sleep and now this very hand is unwilling to let go, clutching tightly to you as it drags you with it. You will not leave his side. Years he has invested and dedicated to find you and now that Chrollo finally has you he finds himself unable to get rid of you. You are the missing piece of his puzzle, the air he needs to breathe, the fire that warms him, the water that sustains his life, the earth that stabilises him. It is no longer a want but a need that is now driving him. He needs you with him. Now. Tomorrow. Forever. Whilst he is no fervent believer in God or the holy faith even Chrollo can't deny how truly ironic it is that the person who is the answer to so many of his questions was frozen in time only for him to find her. Actions need to be made fast for you progress much too fast with your bending abilities. Whilst you lack experience still and haven't yet mastered your entire powers Chrollo does not wish to risk a confrontation with you though he knows that you could never harm him or any of the other members. After all the Phantom Troupe are the first friends you made after being freed from the ice you were kept in.

📖​Haven't you always been secretly burdened by the fate chosen for you without you ever having been able to decide for yourself? Haven't you always secretly wished to be normal like everyone else? You've shared your insecurities and wishes with Chrollo, revealed bits of your heart to him which he greedily clutches to his own empty chest as every secret of yours fulfills him a bit more. You've shared your pain and your guilt with him and now he offers you to free you from all those chains tying you up. His Nen ability should be able to remove the Avatar spirit from you. He can give you the freedom you have always wished for secretly. To your own lament you recognise his true colours much too late, your heart weeping as you see the Phantom Troupe in their full capabilities. The kindness they have shown you and the love that Chrollo has fed you with have all been real yet were only parts of their true selves you find yourself now confronted with. You see them as no monsters though as most people would deem them, your eyes instead only seeing lost souls who have wandered on the wrong path. You wish to save them somehow yet deep down you know that they have all already chosen their paths.

📖​Only then does Chrollo reveal his true self to you, a merciless and apathetic man who sees humans no different to puppets. You will not escape him. Not now after he has finally found the heart he has been missing all along in you. He blackmails you, tugs at your heartstrings as he knows how deeply you care for him and his troupe yet he also frightens you as he threatens to involve innocent people and even dares to threaten Appa, your treasured friend. He truly doesn't wish to fight you and he already knows that you are no fighter yourself, prefering a pacifistic solution. Even if you should narrowly escape the net of the spider though as you flee with Appa know that you will never be truly free. Chrollo will hunt you down, follow every trace of you and burn down entire cities until he has you once more. You can run but you can't hide forever. Not from him. Even if he shouldn't find you in this life he is willing to step into truly forbidden territory. If the soul of the first Avatar has been able to be reincarnated then there is a chance that he might be able to reincarnate his soul with yours as well. Little spider, he will chase after you even after death, his soul always chasing after yours.

[hwallazia]

WE KNOW – 박성화

synopsis . in which your boyfriend’s murder hurt for so long. so one cold night, you’d revenge him by meeting the head of the responsible for your boyfriend’s death. you thought it’d be a piece of cake but turns out he was so much smarter than you. | PART TWO

pairing . park seonghwa & fem! reader

genre . angst? (if you squint), mafia!au, strangers to ???

word count . 1,3k

DISCLAIMER! mob boss! seonghwa, undercover agent! reader, mentions of death (reader’s boyfriend), seonghwa threatens reader at the end (not this being necessarily a death threat).

NIC’S NOTES of course this is having a part 2 (i’ll post it eventually, i swear) which will contain smut. this is literally word vomit of my thoughts of mob boss! seonghwa so i’m so sorry for the shortness of this!

You knew it, you knew that what you were doing was wrong, but your body tends to react faster than your own brain.

With your legs shaking and a lump forming in your throat, you stood in front of the majestic door of the 19-story building, knowing everything you were risking by even stepping on the ceramic floor of the hotel’s luxurious floor; your life and on the other hand your work, your boss had been more than clear that case 3498: “Park Seonghwa” would be handled by special forces and more trained and experienced strategists.

You still couldn’t fully understand why you were in front of the gates of hell of your own free will, but you simply couldn’t miss the opportunity to kill the heir of the ‘Wonderland’ cartel, his men being responsible for the death of your boyfriend, which happened a long time ago. More less two years.

When your squad leader announced that there was a possibility of finally destroying this cartel because of its leader’s murder, your eyes shone; you found hope along the way, after having gone through one full of desolation and tragedy.

That’s why you couldn’t just sit back and pretend that the case had never been mentioned. You decided to take matters into your own hands even when your boss explicitly told you to step aside.

And with a deep sigh, you walked into the hotel, the smell of wood and leather sofas filling your nostrils.

You analyzed the environment, noticing certain people casting their gaze on you. Without giving them much importance, you tried to locate your target.

You walked around the place, meeting many familiar faces and wondering where you knew them from; soon the answer came to your mind, they were people you saw, locked in your office —more like a pretty, decorated prison— in criminal records files. Some of them with quite compromising and illicit antecedents. But this wasn’t the time to think about those people.

Of all the people who were in the building, you had to locate one, which, by the way, you weren’t finding anywhere.

You headed to the elevator and pressed the button that had a downward arrow drawn on it. You waited patiently for the ‘ding’ to announce the arrival of the mechanism, and got on the elevator. Once on the floor you wanted to be, you walked down that hallway full of 2-4 person dining tables, until you finally found your target.

The only way you could attract him into your net was by seducing him, so you could make time to call the special forces. No matter how many lectures your boss gave you later, you could finally avenge the death of your beloved boyfriend.

You approached the mysterious man, your maroon dress shedding some of its fabric due to the slit in your right thigh, falling delicately to the floor. It hugged your anatomy, highlighting your exotic curves. Due to the non-accidental rip in your dress, your shiny white heels were on display. You felt beautiful, and you hoped that Mr. Park Seonghwa would fall for your charms as well.

Taking your dress by the sides, being careful not to step on it, you sat down without saying a word at the same table as the enemy. He somehow sensed a foreign presence, so he spoke.

“I wasn’t expecting a companion tonight.” His voice made a delicious shiver run down your spine, straightening your back.

“No handsome man should spend the night alone.” Your feminine and captivating voice made him finally look up and fix his dark, solemn eyes on yours.

“Is that so? Since when?” He raised an eyebrow mischievously.

“Since today, darling.”

A small laugh escaped his lips as he lowered his head to hide the curve that had formed on his lips.

“Okay, doll. I’ll let us share this dinner together,” He straightened up, focusing all his attention on you, “Why, of all the people gathered here, did you decide to sit at my table?”

“Didn’t I say it already? I think you’re cute, so I decided to keep you company.”

“With what purpose?” He leaned over the table, resting his elbows on his sides.

Very good question, with what purpose had you taken the decision, and the courage, to sit at the same table as the devil? You couldn’t remember anything, it seemed like your mind went blank every time the man fixed his dark irises on you, and the fact that he was doing it right now wasn’t helping matters.

“Don’t tell me you’re here to arrest me…” Your blood suddenly ran cold. Your mind began to spin in search of a sensible answer. Your neurons were so busy thinking meticulously about the words you were going to say that you forgot how ridiculous and desperate you’d look in the process.

“No! Not at all… Nonono,” You let out the longest existing “ehhh” in the middle of your explanation. “My goal with you tonight is different and… personal.”

“Mhm... personal,” The word slid off his tongue dangerously. “Well, I’m dying to know what you’re planning on doing with me tonight.” A curved smile decorated his lips, weakening your legs.

You urgently wanted to change the direction of the conversation, and as if you had manifested it, the food arrived at your table. The waiter placed two plates of medium-rare steak in front of you as an appetizer and a bottle of champagne that he masterfully opened. The clear liquid from the bottle slid smoothly down your glass, bubbles adorning the top of it.

Food flooded your table as you kept a conversation with Seonghwa. It was strange but intriguing. Neither of you gave more information than necessary, both always staying on the edge. You didn’t know when, why, or how but you were both laughing. When you stopped, the gangster let out a sigh and then spoke to you.

“You’re very beautiful. Y’know?” Your cheeks turned a tender pink as you felt them burn. However, you decided to test him, looking at him lustfully, clearly with other intentions. Unfortunately, Seonghwa read you like an open book and rapidly recognized the game you were playing.

“Thanks, handsome. You’re very good-looking as we-”

“Too bad you’re an agent.”

What?

How was it possible? You didn’t give too much information, and you were cautious when speaking. So how the hell does he know you’re an agent? You stayed still in your seat, unable to formulate any excuses.

“Oh, darling. I’m the heir of the greatest mafia in Asia. Didn’t that tell you and your pretty little head something?”

Words simply chose not to slip out of your mouth. So you remained silent, looking down as if you were a just scolded six-year-old girl.

At that point, you didn’t know if you were scared or what, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. It was as if a deafening voice was ringing inside your head repeating ‘don’t. you. dare.’

“I’d love to have you around, I really mean it. You’re lovely. Maybe your head hanging on my coat rack can keep me company.” Seonghwa got up from his seat, going around the table to be face-to-face with you.

“Please, let’s talk rationally.” You naively tried to keep your voice from shaking, but it was impossible. You were terrified of what this man could do to you.

“Follow me, y/n.”

Fuck.

Now there was no way to deny the undeniable. He knew your name, probably your last name, your address, your blood type, and the name of your dog, why not?

Now you were really against a rock and a hard place.

He took your hand carelessly and practically dragged you to one of the countless hotel rooms, away from the crowd. He closed the door behind him and threw you on the bed brusquely.

“W-what are you gonna do to me?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill you, I’m not as ruthless as my father.” You let out a sigh when you heard his words.

“But I am gon’ make you regret trying to arrest me, darling,” He walked towards you and leaned down so he could be face-to-face with you. His lips brushing dangerously against yours. You could see how a flame decorated his dark irises, “So much that you’re gonna wish you never had met me.”

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