#ooooh i like the way your brain thinks op

[floatyhands]

I hope I can structure my thought process that I can articulate my scrambled head. First, I really enjoy and dig your interpretation of DC characters cause like if writers don't poke in the well of their characters. You can always rely on someone reading way more in-depth. Plus, it always nice to see art. Second, I thought why not ramble a bit since I was heavily intrigued with your yin and yang text. Maybe not as similar since it how I view two different characters, but both means very dear to one another. I am referring to Gilda and Harvey, since the name of Apollo is used yadda yadda. Randomly I would think how Gilda would be represented with the moon. Sounds pretty generic, though usually I work with many different meanings. (Ideas like longing, cycles, habits, different perspective of phrases, and other story that revolved around the sun and moon). As I said before scrambled head.

I won't yap as much, I thought to humor the phrase of giving you my brain juice. But keep cooking op.

Hi! I'm so sorry for the late response, I completely forgot Tumblr asks exist.

Thanks for liking my silly DC interpretations! I'm still very fresh to the comics, and there's often a fear I have that actually my interpretations go against the spirit of the canon or that actually the writers have fixed stuff for the better and I've missed this entirely and my takes ruin it somehow, so I'm glad that people do vibe with my ideas. :D

As for the "Gilda as Moon" thing, ooooh! On "Moon symbolising longing", I'm only familiar with the full moon symbolising (family) reunion in Chinese culture and also the whole Chang'e being isolated from humanity thing, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. About the phases, cycles, and habits, I'm guessing this is about her potential as a character who transcends binary thinking through multiple facets, and also her dealing with the cycles of separation and reunion that comes with Harvey's cycles of relapse and recovery? There's also maybe the meta level thing where Gilda as a supporting character of a supporting character usually only gets to shine from the sun (Harvey's) light haha.

The motif of contrasting but complementary halves of lovers, combined with the yin-yang thing, also reminds me of the similar sounding yuenyeung (鴛鴦), or mandarin duck, which in symbolises conjugal love and fidelity in East Asia because of how they're culturally considered to mate for life (which is sadly not true IRL, guess that's just nature for you), but in Cantonese specifically(?) has the additional connotation of "odd couple" due to how sexually dimorphic the birds air, hence the Hong Kong coffee-tea mixed drink also called yuenyeung, and yin yang fried rice/yuenyeung fried rice (鴛鴦炒飯, no relation to yin and yang, that's 陰陽), also sometimes called lovers' fried rice, a fried rice made with two contrasting sauces. (Oh look at me, forcefully pushing my Hong Kong food agenda again.)

Either way, thanks for the support, please send me more brain juice and sun-moon things!

[aemondsa]

Whats wrong with shipping Aemondsa tho? I feel like its the number #1 Sansa crackship rn (at least in my pov) like I want to ship Sansa with all the fictional characters I like. Heck, i'm honestly just here in the shadows patiently waiting for some big brain author to write a Gojo x Sansa or Geto x Sansa fic 😂

Same! Sansa is my favourite character in fiction and I just like the idea of putting her together with unexpected people and seeing where the vibes take us. ✌️💗

Ooooh, I would be down for a Sansa in JJK universe fic. It could be a fun concept! I know there is a Sansa/Sesshomaru fic and a Sansa reborn in Naruto ‘verse fic. (haven’t read either, but it’s marked for later)

Personally, I like crackship more than any canon ships—they can never let you down, unlike the ships that are fighting for the canon crown. However, as there is an unexpected influx of people who dislike the ship, I made that previous post. I’ll put more details under the cut, so it’s easier to read.

To preface, if someone doesn’t like the ship, that’s okay. I’m not saying everyone should like it. However, lately people have been acting in a way that makes me think ‘damn, y’all really will do anything to be a hater, huh?’

Here’s a break down of some of the things that happened:

There is a… cluster of twitter users who occasionally make posts like ‘if you ship sansa and aemond, I know you have mental problems’ and ‘sansa x aemond shippers are genuinely insane.’ That’s a very odd thing to say about strangers online over a non-problematic ship that exists because people decided to put their favourite characters together.

Same contingent of people insists that J@ce/Sansa is the better ship, and a) somewhat suspicious that you only bring up J@ce/Sansa as a contender when you are putting down Aemond/Sansa; and b) well, if you feel so strongly about J@ce being Sansa’s ‘gallant, perfect prince’ then why not write that yourself? Be your own hero, make the content you want to see in the world. Nothing is stopping you.

Not for the first time, people on tiktok make videos of the ‘why does this ship exist? ew’ variety, but recently, one reposted art and spoke about the context negatively, and had the gall to say ‘found on pinterest, credit to the artist’ and ???? google reverse image search is free and not that hard to use? Fine, you don’t like the ship, but don’t repost an art without credit. Someone with skill and talent spent time and energy to draw and fully render a complicated piece. Creditless reposting is a dick move. (OP eventually deleted their video.)

Another tiktok came out and it used Aemond/Sansa as a punchline of their joke. And fine, whatever, it’s a comedy sketch and not particularly deep, and sure the scandalised ‘Aemond and Sansa?! 😱��’ were annoying, but it’s the lying that got me. They said ‘I know people get frustrated because [Aemond/Sansa] are all over the main Daem0n/Rh@enyra tag.’ and that is just… not true. Something that can be disproven with basic math: Aemondsa has 78 fics total of which 23 fics are tagged with Daem0n/Rh@enyra ship. Daem0n/Rh@enyra tag on ao3 has 5,272 fics. 23 of 5,272 is *dun dun dun* 0.436%. Not even half a percent. Sooooooo, how exactly is that ‘all over the main tag’? It’s the lying that gets me, you know?

And of course, the casual ‘oh, why is this a ship?’ / ‘I can’t believe people ship this’ / ‘free my girl Sansa’ tags that people add to posts. Why do we ship them? Cause we can. We’re having fun.

(These are just some examples of recent events that irked me.)

TL;DR: People are strangely threatened by a crackship with less than 100 fics in their ao3 tag, like 10 authors to its name, and necessitates time travel to function. Is it really that serious? Why are people more pressed than a juice that a group of Sansa fans also like Aemond and are exploring the idea of them together? We’re practically a fringe movement, given our numbers—it’s not that serious that we exist. We are just having fun with our friends and gushing over our faves. Mind your business and stay out of ours.

[radioromantic-moved]

basic braining, lungfishopolis and milkman conspiracy for hollis?

yayyy i was hoping i would get to answer for hollis because you know. her games <3

Basic Braining: Describe your F/O the way you would to someone who’s not familiar with them or their source. hollis is a standard variety girlboss to me...she's got a lot to deal with managing a big fancy psychic spy company and she's very stressed sadly. she deserves some nice time off. she's not the kind of character i think most people would pay a lot of attention to (unless she was a white man ahem i mean what? huh?) but i think that actually makes me love her more <3

Lungfishopolis: If you and your F/O were animals, what animals would you be? ooooh hmm...i still haven't decided on my own fursona so my choices are tentative at best but hollis to me is...a kestrel perhaps. they have her kind of look about them. and my s/i is a bearded dragon for no reason in particular i just think they are delightful beasts.

Waterloo World: Do you and your F/O play games (of any kind–tabletop games, video games, card games or any other kind!) together? If you do, what’s your favorite? one of my favorite pieces of‏‏‎ ‎psychonauts‏‏‎ ‎art‏‏‎ ‎has all the senior agents (truman,‏‏‎ ‎sasha,‏‏‎ ‎milla,‏‏‎ ‎hollis,‏‏‎ ‎oleander) playing‏‏‎ ‎dnd‏‏‎ ‎together and i think that's really really cute. hollis is definitely a tabletop kinda girl to me and i think she also likes weird complex board games and is a stickler for the rules. my s/i is also really into this kind of stuff but they both get super competitive so they're better off doing co-op stuff like tabletop campaigns

[just-an-adventurer]

I am going absolutely WILD for this fic, op. I binge-read this all in once go and it was such a luxury to have all those parts in one. Because of its bulk, I jotted down little notes as I went along so I wouldn't forget to add them to my comment.

In lieu of any sort of cohesive review due to having no thoughts aside from my brain printing out a mental image of a shitty crayon drawing of König and reader covered in blood with little cartoon hearts everywhere, here are the reactions I jotted down:

The heady mix of it all! The tenderness!

The preparation beforehand! Unlocking the gate and checking for consent! He would be a perfect dom if not for the uh, murder and all that. But oh so absolutely PERFECT for a good fic!

The intimacy of him taking off his mask and putting it into her lap!!!

"You felt silly for thinking he knew where you lived" AAH.

Aw man op, from Vig to König you are always coming in clutch with murderous sexy men

His mannerisms are so good! The mix of his confidence with his anxiety (his careful preparation, the way he fiddles with the towel and secures it again as an excuse to break eye contact when the conversation breaks)

MATCHING SCARS ASSFHFJDJFB I AM CHEWING THROUGH DRYWALL

LIKE REALLY GRIM SOULMATE MARKS AAAAH

I love how their scars are in the exact same place, but unique to them

Hands laced together aaaaaah

Lube! Yes! The prep! The foresight! Especially given his size 😏

That sex scene was so fucking HOT. The way you write them is always so visceral, so natural.

The moment right after is so sweet! The way they're laughing after that cathartic climax is just aaaaah. So good.

Ah man, now that the lust has cooled, poor reader is trying to put all the pieces together and meanwhile könig is SO STOKED to snuggle and have everything go well.

And yet, "...No one?"

"No one."

That actually sounded kind of nice...

I am SCREAMING. THERE IT IS, THERE'S A HUGE PART OF THE APPEAL

Hnnnng feeding him a bit of the butchered carrot. The domesticity!

"Knowing him, though, he probably liked you threatening him with it." Pfffff

"If you were to kill him how would you do it?"

YESSSS a reader who has just enough screws loose to be into it. It was touched on in the very beginning but ooooh fuck yeah

Man, can König break the fingers of people I don't like one at a time? Pretty please? *twirls hair*

Their dynamic is everything to me aaaaah

Using italics for translated German is so perfect! It adds it in without breaking the flow of things and gives me the impression that the reader has picked up some of the language in their time together

His dialogue feels so in-character! Like I can imagine it with his voice super easily

Once again hitting it out of the park with the sex scenes! Now with sexy murderous undertones! There's something about kill-mode könig all hopped up and giddy on violence turning into a whimpering mess that has me fucking GRINNING

Yessssss double relationship dynamic of chaste sweet actions following lewd ones

The blowjob misunderstanding had me cackling - the fucking dialogue and back-and-forth was hilarious

Eye contact as part of their love language!!

These two freaks! Covered in each others' blood! Bonded together by brushes with death and hard-on for violence! I love them!!

Absolutely incredible work as always, my friend! This fic is fucking fantastic, the tags are fitting and spot-on (fluff included!). You do such a wonderful job making murderous characters really fun to read and I love that your reader characters are game for it (because of course! We're reading bc we're interested in playing with the idea so it's always fun when the reader character is down for it too!) And your dialogue and body language is always such a treat. I hope this comment makes some sense and it isn't too scattered! Thank you for writing and sharing this beautiful bloodstained behemoth of a fic!

Death's Angel

Pairing: König (stalker/serial killer)/Fem!Reader

Rated: Explicit. 18+

Summary: "Please just let me go! I promise I won't tell! I have a wife! I have a child!" He's heard all the pleas before, but König is finally struck with the oddest dying wish he's ever heard. "Can you kiss me?"

Word Count: 22,480

Warnings:  Rape/Non-Con: Sexual assault, I do NOT go into detail on that part, but uh, it's there. Dub-Con/Consensual non-consent: (+mentions of rape/cnc porn). CNC as a coping mechanism, which (in this case) is dubious as it is not discussed beforehand. + Blood play, knife play, degradation. (Non-consensual) voyeurism (König is a stalker). Violence (König is a serial killer). Fluff (lol it's actually pretty sweet)

A/N: Based on [an ask] I got a couple of months ago. 4 parts in 1. [Read on AO3] for chapter divisions.

[Multi-fandom Masterlist]

[Death’s Kiss]

He cursed himself for getting distracted. But, as much as the military would like to believe he isn't, he is only human. And a particularly buxom woman overtly flirting with him had drawn his eyes from his target. He rejected the woman's advances (maybe he will find her later, there was nothing quite like fucking after killing), and went about searching for his target. Unfortunately he had to be discreet, he couldn't just push people out of his way, as much as he would love to.

He caught sight of a back exit and followed his instincts, they hardly ever led him astray, and took the chance that his target had left this way. He’d only taken a few steps into the dark alley when he heard sounds of a struggle. ‘What’s this?’ He followed the sound of a frustrated groan quickly followed by a “fuckin’ bitch!” and a woman’s scream cut short. 

König stuck to the shadows, plenty around this late, and slipped his sniper hood on as he rounded a dumpster. There was his target, a man in his thirties, with one hand over a woman’s mouth and the other holding a knife he just shoved into the woman’s stomach. 

Interesting. König couldn’t exactly say what drew him to kill certain targets. He just saw someone and decided. Sometimes he’d do recon, other times, like tonight, he’d just see what the night had in store for him. This was the first time he had come across one of his targets committing well, if the woman’s torn dress and the man’s hand now stuffed under her skirt were anything to go by, sexual assault and likely murder. 

König could understand murder. He might even respect it. But he could not tolerate rape. There were always one or two men in his unit he had to keep an eye on. Who were likely to take advantage of the women of a war torn country. Not only were those the easiest of his victims to cover up, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the higher ups placed them on his team on purpose. Let him deal with the troublemakers before they get out of hand. 

Why he should have contempt for one heinous act over another was also something he didn’t bother to think about. Thus he didn’t bother to think when he pulled his target off of the woman. 

-

Red. He’d forever associate this moment with red. Your eyes, which caught his for a fraction of second as he grabbed the man’s shoulder, were red, either from tears or because the man had hit you, or both. There was a bright red ribbon that matched the color of freshly spilled blood hanging loosely from your hair, spiraling elegantly down your shoulder before getting stuck to your skin with blood. Blood, dark red and spilling freely in some places, already clotting in others, almost looked fake. Too…pretty. Most beguiling of all, were splashes of red across your lovely white dress, from the top, which was now ripped free of your body, to the flared skirt.  

Red had always been his favorite color. 

The man was quick enough on his feet to regain his balance and pull out of König’s grasp, if only for a moment, as he reeled and threw a wild punch at König.

König caught the first easily, smiling under his mask, as the man’s eyes went wide as he realized how much bigger König was. “F-fuck!” 

He tried to yank his fist back, which König let go of as he hooked one boot behind the man’s foot. He chuckled as the man flailed and fell on his ass with an undignified scream. Before the man could get back to his feet and run away, König planted his boot on his chest and leaned down. 

“What should I do with you, hm?” König hummed playfully while leaning down and pressing his weight onto the man’s chest even more. He had been planning on taking the man to a secondary location, an out of the way warehouse at the edge of town, so he could take his time. But even now he was aware of a second set of eyes on him.

“N-nothing! You can have her, let me go!” The man struggled against König’s boot, and struggled to breath as König pressed down again. 

“Her?” He looked over his shoulder at you, hunched against a wall with blood slowly forming a puddle around you. 

You should have been crying for help, or trying to get to your phone that he could see a few feet from you. You should have been trying to save your life. But instead you were watching him. Your eyes were glazed over as your life slowly drained away, but you were watching him. No. You were watching him kill your attacker, waiting to see what happened. And a shiver of excitement ran down his spine. He never had a witness before…

Then he looked down again, “what use is a dead woman?” 

That’s when the man screamed, using what little strength he had to try to punch König’s leg. 

“Ow.” König deadpanned, but removed his foot from the man’s chest anyways. 

He let the man scramble to his feet, but when he turned to run away, König grabbed him by the back of his head, his giant hand making a viscous grip in the man’s hair, and yanked him back. The man screamed, hands flying to the back of his head to try to pry König’s hand off of him. König lifted the man into the air before slamming him face first into the brick wall in front of them.

Not even the muffled and gurgled screams could drown out the sickening crunch of bone. While still holding the man’s face into the brick wall, he turned to look at you, looking for the familiar fear that should be in your eyes. There was none. Again, you weren’t even looking at him, not really. You were looking at the man, weakly struggling against König’s hold. 

Hm. There was no fear in your eyes. But you were alert to…something. Too close to Death, maybe? He wondered what it would take for you to react.

Without even looking back at the man, he pulled his fist back for a moment, the man gasping for air through broken teeth, and slammed him back into the wall. It was at that point that the man went limp in his hand. Your only reaction was to cough, blood spraying from your mouth and down your chin.  

‘Nothing?’

Returning his attention to the man, König pulled the back from the wall again and with his free hand grabbed the side of the man’s face. In one quick motion he pulled and snapped the man’s neck. That earned him…a cough for sure, but, was that a laugh turned to a cough? 

He dropped the man and kicked the body over, making sure that he was really dead, when he noticed you moving out of his peripheral. You had wrapped both hands over the handle of the knife protruding from your stomach.

“You’ll only bleed out faster.” He raised his voice and turned his head enough to look at you again.

You froze and looked up at him as he slowly turned from the man to you. From where he had planted himself, he took  in more of your appearance, of your wounds. Your hands, now resting weakly in your lap, were cut from a blade and scraped up from the brick wall you were pushed into and cement below you, proving that you had at least attempted to fight back before being overpowered. There was a large gash below your neck and over your collarbone that leaked blood onto your nude chest. A shame, a quick thought crossed his mind, that such a pretty pair of tits is going to die.

His eyes followed down the rivulet of blood from your chest to your waist. Oh. Cherries. What he initially mistook as blood splatter all over your pretty white dress was in fact part of the dress itself, a pattern of cute little cherries. What a vision you were, must have looked like a little angel before you met your fate. 

“Hey,” you croaked out in a heavy, wet, sigh. 

Since it seemed to take so much effort to get one word out, he did you the favor of moving closer to you. Once he was near enough to you, his eyes drifted down to the knife. He didn’t kill that man to save you. In fact, it was his intent to let you die. He could finish the job. Do it quickly too, as a mercy. 

“Can you-” You breathed out another heavy sigh, attempting to curb a cough. “-kiss me?”

König’s eyes snapped up to your face, blinking and his head tilting even more as he processed your question. Did he hear you right? “What?” 

“I want,” you paused and licked your lips that were both dry but slick in blood. “My last kiss to be my choice.” 

Ah! He blinked once more as he looked at your pathetically small body and the puddle of blood under you. You knew you were going to die. 

He never had a witness to one of his killings. He also never fulfilled someone’s dying wish. An odd night of firsts. He dropped down to one knee next to you and nodded. “Alright.” What was the harm in it?

With one gloved hand he gently tilted your chin towards him and lifted the bottom of his hood with the other. His eyes slid shut as he softly pressed his lips to yours. He meant for it to be chaste, just a small peck to honor your wish, but the metallic tang of your blood slipped into his mouth, and he liked it. The coppery blood was tinged with a hint of what he could only describe as sweet. He had never tasted blood like that. His own was acrid in comparison. He wanted more. 

He leaned down closer and pressed his lips just a bit harder against yours, agitating the cut on your lip. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, gently sucking on the cut in your lip to draw more blood into his mouth and he had to hold back a moan. As tempted as he was to shove his tongue further, a pained whimper from you stopped him. He pulled away, licking his lips as he dropped his hood back in place.

You coughed out a muttered “thank you,” and sighed, like you were ready to accept your death. 

Too bad he hadn’t met you earlier in the night, he thought as he looked at you again. Then, and he’s not sure why he even tried, he pulled a knife from his belt and began to cut away at the top of your dress that was already hanging off of your body. “Remain calm, Engel.” 

Once he had a sufficient amount of fabric he pressed it around the knife wound. “Keep pressure here.” 

Your hands, small and weak, took over and despite the pained cry, you did as he said.

He stood up quickly and picked up your phone, or what he simply assumed was your phone. The screen was cracked but still lit up as he pressed a side button. The emergency number was just one press away from being dialed. 

He hit dial and returned to you, helping you stem the bleeding once more, and held the phone up to your mouth. “Tell them where we are. You might live if they’re fast enough.” 

You coughed out an answer to the operator, barely managing a weak “help” with a street name and the name of the club you stepped out of. 

You were unconscious by the time he saw emergency lights, but at least you were still alive. He remained with you as long as he could, daring even a few seconds too long, and slipped away before police and paramedics found you. And the body of the man who attacked you.

Even as König sat in his truck, forcing himself to relax, he knew it would be better for him if you died. 

He hoped you lived. 

[Death’s Touch] 

A week ago he met a dying angel with sweet and pretty blood. He expected the police to show up within a day or two. Even if he hadn’t shown his face to you, or done something so stupid as to give you a name, how many behemoth men with Austrian accents were there in the city? That simple description of him was the reason why he was careful there were no witnesses to his killings. That simple description was why he had considered letting you die in that alley. 

But the police never showed up. 

König frowned as he fit the last piece of the gun he had been meticulously cleaning in place. Did the police not show up because you…died? He waited too long to help you and now he’d never even get to know your name.

Of course, he didn’t know for sure that you were dead, and that had him anxious. He had to know.

A few days later, and an I.O.U to Hutch, König was able to read the police report from that night. He learned three important things. The first was that you were still alive. The second was that there was no mention of him, or even a rescuer. No description of a large man. No APB out on him. And lastly, he learned your name and address.

You lived in a modest flat, the worst thing about it was its utter lack of security. There wasn’t even a gate. It was too easy to find various watch points that looked into your flat. Or would have. You apparently weren’t in the habit of opening your curtains. Only a good thing, as far as he was concerned, who knows what kind of creeps could be watching?

For a day, he wondered if he had the right flat. He’d been watching all day and didn’t see you once. Just before his patience wore out the next day, however, food was delivered to your flat and he finally caught a glimpse of you again. 

That was it. The confirmation he needed. You were alive and for whatever reason you didn’t tell the police about him. Both good things. 

He could leave. He could forget about you now. 

…

It was two days later when you finally left your flat. Yes, he was still watching your flat, a sense of relief flooding him every time you opened the door for food. 

He followed you until you parked at a clinic. He knew there would be cameras all over the place, so he continued driving and didn’t pull into the same parking lot as you. Instead he drove to the next light, made a u-turn and parked at the drug store across the street. 

An hour and a half later he saw you leave the clinic. You were fast, one might even say you were lightly jogging. As he started his truck to follow you, he realized that you walked at that same speed when you left the flat. 

“Oh, my little angel. Are you frightened?” 

Too scared to leave the safety of your home most days, and barely leaving to see a doctor. Well, he couldn’t blame you.

A part of him was content knowing that he would be able to easily find you now. 

Just his luck, though, his leave was up and he had to ship out to a new base. Hopefully, by time he got back you would still be holed up in your little flat, safely tucked away for him.

-

By the time he was granted leave again, it had been four months since you were attacked. It didn’t take him long to find you again. Of course you were at home, and that morning he followed you to an office, then back home. A routine. Having a solid routine helped with his own anxiety, of course it would ease yours. 

The only thing that did surprise him was that from his old vantage point, and with the help of a scope, he was able to see into your bedroom now. Not a full view, but the curtains were cracked just enough. The weather had been getting better, had you opened your window at one point and weren’t so diligent with the curtains when you closed it? 

Blue light softly illuminated your room as you settled into bed that night. He could sympathize with you. He knew plenty of men who could not sleep without the aid of some kind of white noise. But as he watched you through his scope he realized that the tossing and turning he thought was keeping you awake was more intentional than not. There was no mistaking the way you were rolling your hips.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he leaned forward in his truck, as if that could somehow get him a better view through your window. 

His dick twitched when you turned to lay flat on your stomach, your hips rocking faster against the pillow (or blanket?) that you had between your legs. He thought about you in that alley, looking all pretty so close to death, “-kiss me?” and tasting so sweet. 

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your head hanging down but still turned away from him. Not that he could really make out your figure fully, his mind was filling in what he could not see. One of his hands dropped to his crotch to adjust his pants, but didn’t touch his semi-hard dick. He liked to think he had more self control than that. Until he remembered that little whimper you let when he kissed you too hard and he needed to hear you again.

Before he could stop himself to weigh his decision, he was already out of the truck and halfway across the parking lot. He was called a human battering ram, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be stealthy, or pick a lock. In fact, he was already trying to think of a way to get you new, better, locks since it was so easy to break into your flat. 

The lights were all off and in dark clothes and his sniper hood, it was easy to blend into the shadows. The place was small, the door opened into an open concept living room to kitchen. He paid no mind to furnishing, focusing instead on the light that emanated from the bedroom. 

As he got closer to the door, left slightly ajar, the sound of heavy breathing got louder. It was a sound that sent an excited thrum through his veins as he leaned against the wall and peeked into the bedroom.

In the time it had taken for him to enter your flat, you had switched positions again. You were sitting up on your knees, back towards him (the door, rather), with a blanket pooled around you and a pillow between your thighs. You weren’t wearing anything provocative, just a large tee shirt from what he could see, but it was bunched up around your hips just reaching your bare thighs. 

He could feel his body getting hotter, his dick getting harder, but he was trained well enough to keep his breathing steady, quiet. Fuck though, what he would give to see you from the front, or below. To have you riding his cock like that, your soft hands planted firmly on his chest as you were now bracing yourself on the bed. 

You let out a gasp, such a sweet sound that went straight to his dick, and arched your back, one hand flying behind you to steady yourself while the other pulled the pillow harder against you. He closed his eyes for a second, savoring your breaths, as he imagined gripping your hip, you’d probably cry out from how rough his hands were, but you’d like it anyway. He imagined watching his cock stretching out your little pussy while his other hand played with your clit.

When he opened his eyes again, he glanced over at the laptop (the source of light that he initially mistook for a television) but it wasn’t angled right for him to see what was on the screen. It was obvious, with the way you kept your eyes on the screen, though. There was no sound that he could hear, so he figured you were wearing earbuds. What kind of porn did his little angel like to watch? Huge cock, perhaps? Did you fantasize about taking a cock as big as his? 

Underneath his hood he had to bite down on his lips to keep from groaning, especially when you started to moan as you started to bounce and grind your pussy harder onto that stupid fucking pillow. He could give you something so much better to rub your pussy on. 

One of your hands snaked under your shirt to play with your tits, your whines getting a little louder and he squeezed his fists hard. If he touched himself now, he wouldn’t stop until he came, and that was a little too risky right now. 

Just as he was about to give in and stuff his hand down his pants, you let out a muffled moan, one hand covering your mouth, even though no one was (supposed) to be around to hear you. Your hips slowed down to gentle rolls as you leaned forward, slowly stretching out and riding out your orgasm. His hips jerked forward, seeking friction against nothing, and his eyes rolled back at your moan. 

Your little whimpers still filling the air only made his cock throb painfully hard in his pants. He remained still, watching as you slowly got up and moved to the other side of the room. Judging by the light suddenly flooding the room for a second only to fade when he heard a door close, he assumed it was the bathroom. He sighed, leaning against the wall, and took a deep breath, hoping to catch your scent. 

He quickly left while you were cleaning up, and took extra care to make sure your door was locked. 

As soon as he made it back to his truck, he tore off his gloves, shucked his pants down just enough to pull his dick out and spit in his hand. He leaned back, eyes closed as he recalled what he had just seen with vivid detail. 

"Mmm, fuck. Engel." He mumbled under his breath as his hand pumped fast strokes up and down his cock. 

He could still see you humping your pillow, still hear the symphony of your moans filling the air. He squeezed harder, rolled his hand over the tip of his cock and spread the ample precum down the shaft. He was so close already. His hips bucked up as he fucked his fist, picturing you bouncing on his cock. He groaned, your name slipping out of his mouth, even though you had yet to formally introduce yourself to him. 

His whole body tensed, his breath coming out in desperate ragged pants, as he stroked himself faster. A litany of curses, in both English and German, filled the cabin as he came. He continued to stroke himself slowly, with a loose grip, as he eased himself down, just as had. He even imagined himself burying his nose in the crook of your neck, or resting his forehead on your shoulder, making you whimper from lazy and sloppy kisses.

He finally opened his eyes, a spark of sadness in his heart as he saw nothing but the roof of his truck instead of the vision that was you. He sighed and reached the hand that wasn't covered in his own cum around the passenger seat to grab a few napkins he'd thrown there earlier. 

Once he cleaned up, as well as he could, he returned home. He just needed a few hours of sleep. He knew your schedule, he'd return later.

-

He arrived back at your flat after you should have left for work. He scanned the car lot to make sure your car was gone (it was) and made sure the coast was clear to break into your flat again (it was). This time he did take a moment to take in the space. Everything was meticulously clean, spotless, not even dust in high up places. He wondered if you were like this before the attack, or if this was a result of self isolation. 

Then he moved over to the bedroom. Just like the living room, everything was nicely in order and the bed was perfectly made. Excited warmth spread through him when he saw two pillows sitting on your bed. He slipped his hood off, hooking it in his waistband, and dropped onto the bed. He took a deep breath and nuzzled his face into one of the pillows. An incredibly intoxicating mix of perfume and detergent and you filled his senses and he hummed in delight. 

One hand reached up and gripped the other pillow, feeling the softness, about to bring it to his chest when he paused. He spotted your laptop on the nightstand and sat up. He picked it up, a tube of cherry chapstick rolling to the other side of the nightstand, and opened it up. He watched the screen as it loaded. 

No password? Well, he supposed that made sense considering you lived alone. 

Now, he tapped away, what had you so worked up last night? 

His eyebrows shot up, eyes a little wide, as he made his way through your browser history. “Oh, Engel.” He felt himself getting excited as saw various types of CNC and rape porn. “You still think about that night.” Honestly, he did too. 

Before he got too turned on, he made sure to clear the history and set the laptop back where he found it. Then he got up and straightened out the bed. 

If that was what you wanted, he would be happy to help fulfill your fantasies.

-

It had been four months since your attack. Everyone around you had been sympathetic at first. It was a bit overwhelming, having people you barely talked to go out of their way to make sure you weren’t feeling unsafe. It only took two months for them to move on. It was a blessing in that you felt like you finally had space to breathe, but now people were unpredictable, unwanted casual touches or getting too close to you, and it had you retreating back to your cubicle every time. 

When you declined invitations to go out, people would joke that you were being boring. Maybe it was time you moved on too?

The next time you were invited out, you agreed, on the condition that you didn’t have to go home to change. 

“Yay! That’s fine! Trust me, it’ll be fun!” Your friend and coworker said as she slapped hand on your shoulder.

You winced and moved out of her touch with the excuse of needing to get back to your desk. The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful and you soon found yourself at a new bar.

Thirty minutes in, once the appetizers were gone and the alcohol flowing freely, your work friends got to be a little much. You didn't want to drink, you were assured that no one would be getting drunk. That was wrong, of course, and you silently wondered if you were invited just to be designated driver and get everyone home safely. You were not going to do that.

It was easy to slip away unnoticed. You just needed some space and so headed towards the back where the bathrooms were. 

For a Friday night it felt oddly empty. Maybe because it was out of the way, maybe because it looked like an employee only area. Whatever the case, you’re thankful for-

You didn’t even have to catch your breath before you were suddenly pushed into a wall, a large hand clasp around your mouth preventing you from screaming. Fear and panic shot through your body as memories of the night you were attacked surfaced, fueling your struggle. Not again, not here, not with so many people around. 

Both of your hands pulled at the hand on your mouth and you finally looked up only to freeze. Even the panic in you seized up, unsure whether or not you were being threatened. Piercing blue eyes stared at you from underneath a black hood. The bleach stained tear streaks are a frightening illusion of humanity that you’re not certain is even there. 

“You!” Well, at least that what you tried to say, his hand still muffled your voice.

This man, the man who saved you that night, held you up against the wall, your toes barely scraping the floor, with one hand covering your mouth. It was almost the exact same position your attacker held you in right before he stabbed you. Part of you wanted to panic still, had your heart racing and breathing quickly. But another part of you was just…confused. He wasn’t doing anything else but holding you. If he had wanted to kill you, among other things, he could have done it back in that alley. Instead he saved you. He killed the man who attacked you. He helped you call an ambulance. He stopped you from bleeding out. You didn’t even say a word about him to the police. So why would he want to hurt you now?

You tried to calm your breathing as you stared up into his eyes. Cold blue locked you into place, but the danger in his eyes wasn't malice. It was something else entirely. 

Finally he lifted his hand from your mouth, you drawing in a gasp of air, and set you fully back on your feet. His free hand remained firmly planted on the wall beside your head, keeping you in place flush between him and the wall. Then he gently traced your bottom lip with his thumb, landing where a now healed cut once split your lip. Your heart raced, heat blooming across your face, as you remembered his kiss. That kind of intensity in a kiss, in any other situation, would have been erotic. Really, you had been on the verge of death and it was still probably the best kiss you'd had in years. 

You whimpered at his touch. He had been so rough even though he thought you were going to die and now the pressure of his thumb on your lip sent an arousing wave of fear through you. 

He leered down at you, eyes starting to dilate, "tell me to stop." 

With your heart hammering in your chest, it took a moment for you to register his words. What? 

You opened your mouth, no words forming, and his thumb slipped past your lips and grazed your teeth. You whined, which only seemed to spur him on, and he pushed against your jaw even more, forcing your mouth wider. “Speak up, Engel.” 

He was so close to you, his knee slid between your legs, rubbing against your core and pushing you higher against the wall again. You let out a shuddering gasp, your hands flying from him in an attempt to stabilize yourself against the wall, but you made no move, made no demand, to stop him. He rocked his knee up, grinding slowly and gently into your pussy, drawing a quiet moan from you. Your pussy clenched when he put pressure on your clit and you bit down on his thumb, hot tongue brushing against the invading digit. 

König grinned, though you could not see it, and chuckled. He leaned even closer to you, hood pooling over your shoulder and growled in your ear. “Fucking slut.” 

This time your gasp was cut short as he slapped a hand across your mouth again. He lifted you with ease, tucked you against his body and dragged you out of the bar through the back door, not one person seeing the quick departure. 

You struggled against him, hands flying to the one over your mouth and you clawed at him, you kicked your feet but he was so big and tall that he easily held you above the ground. He wanted to chuckle. You reminded him of a feral kitten caught by animal control. Just as cute, or cuter, even.

He didn’t drop you until he reached the side of the bar. There was a gate separating the dingy little alley and the parking lot, decorative trees planted near the gate. It was unlocked, he made sure it was before he approached you, but it still would still provide the illusion that you were trapped.  

You grunted when your feet hit the ground, stumbling forward into the brick wall. You tried to duck around the man, but he easily swung you back in front of him, pushing you against the wall, though he cushioned the back of your head with one large hand.

You looked up at him as you drew in panicked, quick breaths. Just like before, he leered down at you as if he was waiting for you to say something. You bit your lip, his eyes flicking down to watch as your teeth worried at your bottom lip. “Wh-what do you want?”

His eyes looked back up and slowly he lifted a knife you hadn't even seen him grab to your throat. You stilled and tipped your head back, attempting to get the blade away from your delicate skin. There was a scar on your neck that you usually kept covered up, but like this, it was exposed to him.

He traced the scar with the tip of his knife, “what do you want, Engel?”

You swallowed thickly, holding as still as possible so he didn't slice through your skin. And you didn't answer him.

He huffed, “do you want me to stop?” The knife dragged down the scar to the collar of your shirt. “That's all you have to say, my dear.”

As much as you tried to control your breathing, your chest was heaving, drawing his eyes down to it for a moment before he looked up again. That hood made it difficult to read him, but his eyes were so expressive. You knew what he wanted. The heat in his eyes matched the nearly overwhelming heat his large body gave off. The same heat you could feel swelling in your body. You swallowed again, your mouth refusing to answer his question.

“No?” The knife slipped underneath your collar and he tugged, slicing through the fabric. 

It was so similar yet different to the sound of fabric being torn apart and ripped off of your body. It was cleaner, sharper and the definite but soft scratch of the tip of the blade on your heated skin sent your pulse wild. He hummed as he cut open your shirt, revealing the plain bra underneath.  

You hadn't even realized just how hard you were breathing, how much your chest heaved with every breath, until his blade bounced on the swell of your breast and he sucked his teeth. “Stay still.” He growled out, eyes flicking up to your eyes and away from your exposed chest.

You bit back a high pitched gasp, holding your breath as he dragged the blade across your chest, until he reached the left bra strap.

You shivered as you heard the soft ping of the knife slicing through the strap. He once again looked up from your chest to your eyes, his own narrowing in disapproval. “Perhaps you want to be hurt, hm?”

You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to hold your breath again to remain as still as possible. He slowly moved the tip of the knife across your chest again, this time angling it so more of the edge touched your skin. Another ping and you flinched as the other strap of your bra was cut.

He was silent for only a moment, the flat of the blade resting near the middle of your chest, just by your left breast, every beat of your heart making it jump ever so slightly. You could hear his heavy breaths, almost feel them against your face, even through that terrifying hood. For a moment, in that silence, you thought you were safe. That he was done.

Until he quickly shoved his free hand up the back of your shirt and unhooked your bra clasp. You squealed, eyes flying open, and jumped as he ripped what remained of your bra off of you. You only caught a glimpse of his eyes, blown wild with lust, before he spun you around and pushed you face first into the brick wall.

Your hands, which had been covering your chest in an attempt to save your dignity, were now bracing you against the wall so you didn't smash your face into it. You shivered again, remembering how he killed your attacker months ago, by shoving him so hard against a brick wall that he lost consciousness.

The hand holding the knife came to rest to the right side of your face against the wall. The metal gave an unnerving scrape against the brick that caused another shiver to run down your spine. His left hand snaked around to grope your left breast. His large hand, hot and rough, cupped your soft flesh with ease.

“Such pretty tits,” he hummed as he pinched your nipple, drawing another distressed squeak from you as your nipples hardened under his touch.

Your eyes were screwed shut once again and you attempted to wriggle out of his hold. You pressed your body as close to the wall as you could, but that only made him close in on you more, his crotch now firmly resting on your ass. He moved his hand to grope your other breast and bucked his hips forward with a deep grunt, the hard bulge of his cock rubbing against your ass. You bit back a whimper as your pussy clenched around nothing, arousal starting to pool in your panties.

His hand traveled down, grabbing what was left of your shirt and tearing it, leaving it hanging open on your shoulders. Your body welcomed the sudden partial nudity. The air was hot and thick and it felt like a cool relief to be free of even the light cotton. He pressed his hand against your stomach, pulling you against him even more, and for a moment he froze.

All the roughness in his touch disappeared as his fingers gently traced the nasty scar on your stomach. You whined, not from desperate arousal but shame. After what happened to you, you should be trying harder to fight this. You shouldn't want this, no matter how deep down it was, or how hard you tried to deny it. You dropped your head against the wall, resting your forehead against one hand as you waited for him to finish his assault.

König growled at your reaction to the scar on your stomach. You had looked up at him with growing lust, as tentative as that was, when he traced the scar on your neck with his knife. But the scar on your stomach, evidence of how close your brush with death had been, had paralyzed you. You were too quiet for him to enjoy this. He wanted to hear you cry and whimper, wanted to feel you rocking your body against his as you had been only a moment ago. Most of all, he didn't didn't want you to fear him.

He steadied you with his left hand, his hand heavy on your bare shoulder, and used his right to rip the rest of the tattered shirt off of you. You gasped and cried, and not in the way he wanted to hear, as you stood facing the wall with both arms crossed over your chest and your eyes squeezed shut. Then he removed the simple field jacket he was wearing and draped it over your shoulders.

You froze again as you were suddenly enveloped in warmth and spun around to face your savior/attacker. He roughly pulled the jacket closed, deft fingers fastening the button that fell just over your belly button. You were still somewhat exposed to him, but the scar on your stomach was now once again hidden underneath a layer of clothing.

Your mind barely registered the glint of his knife before it was pressed to your neck once more. He dug the point of the blade into the scar, not enough to puncture, but enough to draw your attention back up to his face.

His eyes were narrowed, furrowed brows peeking beneath the crudely cut eye holes of his mask. If you could see the rest of his face, he would probably be scowling at you.

As much as you wanted to grip the jacket closed, you kept your arms stiff at your sides. One wrong move could open up the scar on your neck again. 

He leaned down, his face inching closer to yours, his blade biting just a little bit more. "Say it." His voice is half a whisper, half a frustrated growl. 

Your lips part, tongue darting out to lick them, but you remained quiet, afraid to give him the wrong answer to his riddle. 

He growled again and pushed you harder against the wall. "Say it!" He practically screamed, and his knife finally pierced your skin, drawing just the slightest bit of blood. 

You flinched, as fear and pain laced adrenaline rushed through your veins, to your core, your clit throbbing as the knife stung your skin. Unconsciously, you steadied yourself by bracing your hands on his sturdy chest. His eyes flickered down at the movement, at the way you were clutching to him and squeezing your thighs together and he grinned under his mask. Oh you were scared of him alright, and you wanted it.  “Filthy fucking whore.” 

Your gasp, perhaps a protest of his words, if you even understood them, is strangled as you find yourself facing the wall again, his thick jacket protecting your hands and arms from the rough brick. 

His right hand holds his knife against the left side of your neck, still pressed against the old scar as his left is shoved down your pants. You whine and gasp and squirm as he circles your clit with two fingers. He groans behind you and his hips jerk forward, the motion causing the blade to cut your skin some more, a thin trail of blood starting to stain your skin. 

You cry, biting your lip and dropping your head against the wall, at the mixed sensations, the stinging pain blending with the pure pleasure of his fingers slipping up and down, around, your clit.

He groaned as his fingers slipped further down and spread your slick around your pussy. You squeezed your thighs around his hand and he pants in your ear before shoving a knee between your thighs, preventing you from closing them. 

His knee between your legs pushes you up against the wall and your toes barely find purchase on the ground. “You want this, ja?” He says as he starts to rock your hips against his thigh as his hand continues to play with your pussy. 

His fingers, hot and thick, slip into you as his palm rubs your clit. “Ja.” He grunts as he sinks a second finger into you, slowly pumping them.  His fingers pick up their pace and you moan when he inserts another digit. He curls his fingers just right as he pumps them, drawing out whines that you try to quiet. You hide your face in your hands, finding odd comfort in the warm scent that lingers on his coat, and choke back a moan as your hips are rocked against his thigh faster.

He pulls his fingers out, soaked in your juices, and goes back to focusing on your clit. “Of course you want this,” he half chuckles and half pants as finally removes his hand from your pussy, strings of cum sticking to your exposed skin as he nudges your chin with the knife so your head leans back against his chest. 

He held his hand up, spreading his fingers to show you your own arousal. "You wouldn't be this fucking wet if you didn't want this." 

You tried to turn your head away, so you didn't have to look at those lust clouded eyes in soft darkness, but he tuts and shoves two cum covered fingers into your mouth. He hummed as he watched you gag on his fingers, at least he relented enough that you were no longer deepthroating his fingers. “Wouldn’t be fucking my thigh like a desperate whore if you didn’t want this.” 

You froze, as if just realizing that with one of his hands still holding a knife to your throat and the other stuffing your mouth with his fingers, the eager grinding of your hips on his thigh was entirely you. He laughed and rocked his knee up into your aching pussy, “don’t stop now.”

The drag of his knee puts perfect pressure on your clit and you whine around his fingers as your pussy clenches around nothing. “Keep. Moving.” He growled in your ear as he glides the knife down the old scar down your neck to just above your collarbone, a thin line of blood beading against your skin. It stings and your cries are smothered by his fingers and he rocks his knee up again and you slide against his thigh just right that the pain becomes pleasure. 

He moans with you as you start to grind down in his leg again, back and forth and you even do your best to bounce while your feet barely touch the ground. His hips start to move with you, his hard cock on your ass adding fuel to the fire that burns within you. 

He’s grunting now, everytime you bounce against his dick, and he drops his hand from your mouth and starts to grope your tits again, making your shudder as he squeezes, his grip is bruising but your clit still throbs, your pussy still flutters with every touch of his rough hands.

The knife finally drops from your neck and he holds it against your waist then leans down, the mask he is wearing falling over your shoulder and you feel his breath on your bare skin.

“You belong to me now, Engel.” 

You gasp and shiver as he mumbles darkly into your neck, head lolling back so you can look at him, but all you see is the black of his mask. His grip on you tightens, the handle of the knife pushing into your hip painfully, his hand fondling your breasts roughly, his thigh pushing up against your pussy pleasurably. 

His tongue, hot and big, laps at your shoulder in a smothered kiss before he bites down, his sharp teeth catching the edge of the cut on your neck and that’s enough to push you into orgasm. You pussy wildly, almost painfully, clenching as you cum against his leg. 

He hums, strangely gentle, and slowly rocks you back and forth on his leg, letting your orgasm fade until your wanton moans are no more than the occasional whimper. 

You stumble forward into the wall when he drops his knee. Your clit is still throbbing as you pull the jacket closer to you and hide your face in your hands. You’re mostly just trying to catch your breath and calm down, but somewhere in the back of your mind you still feel shame at the way your cum gushes down your thighs, soaking into your pants. 

You barely register the shuffling behind you until you feel his hands on you again. You flinch, expecting him to be rough, but his touch is gentle as he rubs your arms. “You did good.” He mumbles his compliment into your hair. “Let’s go.” 

You can’t exactly say no to him, as he easily swoops you up off of your feet and carries you through the rickety gate to the bar parking lot. You absently note how easy it was for him to push the gate open, but do not let your thoughts linger on it once he unlocks a truck and sets you down in the passenger seat. 

He’s kind enough to adjust the jacket to cover your chest entirely before he buckles you up. His hips brush against your leg and you break out of the dazed reverie when you feel how hard his cock still is. 

 “Where are you taking me?” 

The man, your…savior (you feel hesitant to label him as your attacker, even after what just happened), slips off the hood before he looks up at you. His hair is disheveled and matted down with sweat and even in the faint street lighting you can see a few scars scattered around his clean shaven face. His eyes, icy cold blue, the only part of him you could see before, shine with something…soft? Unexpected, certainly. 

“Home.” He answers and drops the hood in your lap before shutting the door and walking around to the driver side. 

You hold the mask up in your hands as he starts the engine. The bleached tear stains and empty eye holes stare up at you suggesting danger and pain and death, and safety.

-

When he said home, he apparently meant his home. You felt silly for thinking he knew where you lived. The place he pulls up to is nice. Much nicer than you expected for a man so dangerous, more importantly you supposed, it’s spacious. There was some good distance between his house and the last house you saw and that has your pulse speeding up as he opens the door for you.

He doesn’t even wait for you to move, for you to second guess everything, before unbuckles you and carries you inside. You want to insist that you can walk on your own, but you are sticky with cum and dried blood and honestly, he’s so warm.

When he mumbles something about cleaning up you just nod and let him place you in a shower. You only react when he strips down and steps into the shower with you. 

It could have been a sensual shower, it was certainly big enough and as you catch a glimpse of how big his dick is when it is soft, your clit twitches at the memory of it hard and rutting against your ass. But he is quick to wash himself, and though he spends more time washing your body (or maybe he was just taking his time to feel you up), it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. 

You want to tell him there isn’t really a point in applying that ointment he is gently spreading along the scar on your neck. It’s already healed to an ugly scar.  But he is so gentle as he bandages the fresh cut and rubs you dry with a soft towel as you sit on his very large bed. 

“What’s your name?” 

Would it have been better or worse to ask for his name before he fingered you in some dirty back alley?

“König.” He doesn’t give more than that.

“König.” You repeat and he looks up at you from where he is kneeling on the floor in front of you. “Thank you. For killing that man.” 

He hummed as he continued to pat your thighs dry with the oversized towel that was wrapped around you. “You didn’t tell the police about me.” 

It’s not a question. Somehow he knows that you didn’t tell the police, so you just shrug. “I told them I don’t remember what happened after I got stabbed.” 

His hands stop moving and rest on the outsides of your thighs, playing with the hem of the towel. “But you do remember?” 

You nod. “Everything.” 

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence between you, his fingers start tapping against your thighs and he shifts his weight. The towel that he has wrapped around his waist threatens to fall loose and he uses the excuse to secure it as an opportunity to break his gaze with you.

“What you said back there, that I belong to you now. What does that mean?” 

This time he meets your eyes, “what it sounds like.” 

“...Does that mean you’ll protect me?” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” And he drops a small kiss to your knee, letting his lips linger on your skin.

You reach out and gently cup his cheek to push him away from your legs. “Can you be gentle?” König moves his face just enough to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Yes.” 

Whether he takes your question as a suggestion, or he simply decided that it was time to move onto other activities, he leans down again and places another kiss to your knee, gently spreading your legs and moving his mouth to your inner thigh. As he moves his mouth to splay a kiss on your other thigh, one of his large hands comes up to remove the towel on you body, brushing against your covered breast for just a moment before he tugs on the towel. 

You don’t let the towel drop completely, holding it tight to your chest, and he pauses his sweet kisses.

“Look at me,” he demands, stretching up and leaning against the bed, one knee between yours as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. His grip is firm but not painful, not even close to how tightly he had grabbed you earlier in the night. 

Your eyes jump from one scar to another before settling on his steely eyes. “Good. Now,” he leans in closer, lips hovering over yours, “trust me.” 

His kiss starts off gentle before his tongue finds that spot on your bottom lip where it was once split, he nibbles and sighs as if he can still taste the blood that was once there. Your lips part when you feel his teeth and his tongue glides against yours. It’s slow and gentle and has you melting into his touch, dropping the towel that hides your scars from him. He wastes no time in tossing it off the bed, his lips never leaving yours even as he slides his hands over your waist to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

You let out a little squeak at the sudden movement and he grins as he pulls away from the kiss, breathing against your lips. “Remember. Trust me.” 

You can only nod as he moves his mouth down your neck, placing soft quick kisses over the fresh bandages before he moves to the other side of your neck. His kisses on the juncture of your neck become sloppy, his tongue lapping at your skin like it is covered in something sweet. He bites down hard, teeth sinking into your soft flesh, turning your quiet little pants into a gasping moan. 

“You belong to me now.” He repeats his claim between gentle soothing kisses on the fresh bite mark he just made. 

You nod, accepting your fate, as you grip onto his shoulders. He hums and trails his mouth down your body, gently kissing the bruises that started to bloom on your breasts from how hard he groped you before. Your soft whimper, born of pleasure and pain, makes his cock twitch underneath his towel and he shucks that off too. 

He lays you down on your back and swirls his tongue around a nipple, enjoying the way you arch into his mouth. “Look at me.” He reminds you when he sees that you have closed your eyes.

When you look at him again he grins and playfully bites your nipple, laughing at the little squeak you let out before. Your giggles turn into a soft sigh as he moves to your other breast. His touch has you sinking into a cloud of lust. You want to throw your head back, close your eyes, and surrender to him, but you remember his order and keep your eyes on him.

You go tense when he trails his kisses down to your stomach. His eyes shoot up at you, making sure you are still watching him, as he traces the horrid scar with his lips and tongue. Eventually, with the help of his big warm hands running soothing touches up and down your body, you stop squirming uncomfortably. You’re still squirming, but for entirely different reasons. König notices and with a grin he pushes himself up, pulling you up with him and placing one of your hands on his stomach.

Admittedly, your touch and mind is drawn to the hard muscle, padded with a healthy layer of fat, flexes under your hand. You want to touch the rest of him, explore the rest of him. It is only after a second that you realize what you are touching. A scar. Raised skin in a jagged pattern, like someone attempted to twist the knife that stabbed him. You gently trace the scar as if you are afraid to agitate it. 

He senses your hesitation and laughs as he presses your palm against it even harder. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Engel.” Then he reaches out to touch the scar on your stomach, smaller and cleaner, but fresher and still tender if pressed too hard. 

You look down at his hand on your scar and yours on his. They’re almost in the same place. He leans forward and presses a small kiss to your lips and rests his forehead against yours. “I should be dead. You should be dead.” This was simply proof that were meant for him, he was certain of that. 

Who needs matching tattoos when you have matching scars?

“König,” you breathe out, though you are not sure what you want to say to him. Instead, when his eyes meet yours, you kiss him. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and pull yourself as close to him as possible. 

He moans into the kiss and, tender moment over, pushes you fully against the bed again. He slides down your body again, stopping only momentarily to place a soft kiss on your stomach before he dives between your thighs. 

You don’t even have time to act shy before he’s spreading your legs and swiping his tongue through the folds of your pussy. He’s quick to circle his tongue around your clit, drawing out a soft moan between panting breaths, as your hips move up to meet his mouth. He groans, the subtle vibrations adding extra stimulation, and practically nuzzles your pussy, nose bumping against your clit as he sinks his tongue into your quivering hole. No matter what you do, hands pulling at his hair tightly or thighs clenching around his head, it only earns more moans from him. He laps at your pussy, your juices mixing with his spit and drags his tongue back up to your throbbing clit. 

He locks one hand onto your hip but the other travels up your body to your breasts. True to his word, he is gentle with them this time. No bruising grip sending you teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain. Instead he rolls your nipple, pinching just soft enough that it hardens under his touch. He moves his hand and repeats the action with your other breast, reveling in every little whine and gasp he pulls out of you. All the while he continues to eat your pussy like it’s his last meal.

He has you so needy and aching that it’s euphoric when he slips two fingers into you at once. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, reluctant to let him go but the slide of him pumping into you again makes you gush. One of your hands claws at his hair, gripping his locks to keep you grounded, but the other holds onto his hand that had been playing with your tits. Unable to properly play with your tits now, he laces his fingers with yours, holding your hand as he pulls and orgasm out of you,

Unlike the first time he made you cum, you don’t try to hold back your moans, you don’t hide your face from him, though at some point as he ate you out, you had thrown your head back and closed your eyes from how good it felt. He’d just have to forgive you for that.

König rests his check against one of your thighs as he watches you come down from your orgasm. 

It’s not until he gently squeezes his hand that is still holding yours that you look down at him. Somehow the sight of him between your thighs, face glistening with your cum, makes you blush even harder than you already were. 

“Ready for more, Engel?” 

You blink at him. “More?”

He chuckles and pushes himself up, first dropping a heated kiss onto your lips, his tongue sliding into your mouth and letting you taste yourself. As much as he could spend all night kissing you, right now he had another pressing need to take care of. He sat up on his knees, pushing your thighs further apart to accommodate him, and stroked his painfully hard cock.

Oh!

Your eyes are drawn to him and widen. You knew he was big. You’d seen him soft and felt it against your ass, but seeing it standing at full erection was another thing entirely. It’s easily the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, not even your favorite porn stars can hope to compete. 

You sit up and reach out to touch him, replacing his hand with your own and you swallow thickly. You wrap your fingers around the shaft, your pussy clenching when you see that your fingers don’t even meet. Still, you give gentle strokes, eyes glazing over at how much of his veiny cock you can still see around your fist. He’s already leaking copious amounts of precum, that you collect on your fingers to slick up your next stroke. You lean down and circle your tongue around the head, a shiver running down your spine when he moans wantonly as you wrap your lips around the head. 

You moan as you stretch your mouth around his cock and imagine what it would feel like stretching your pussy out. You let out a little gasp for air when you come back up, going from sucking to licking his cock, just so you can reach the base of it. König moans again and buries a hand in your hair. For a moment you think he’s going to force your mouth onto him again, but instead he pulls you up for another passionate kiss. 

“Another time. I need to fuck you.” He pants against your mouth when he pulls away.

You whimper and nod and throw yourself back onto the pillows, eager to accept the challenge of his massive cock. You drop one hand to your clit, rocking your fingers against the sensitive button. 

König produces a bottle of lube from the nightside and slicks himself up. In the future, he can take the time to make you cum enough times to take his dick naturally. But he is eager to feel you now. Besides, you look just as eager as he feels, as you watch him stroke himself. 

He nudges your hand away from your clit and replaces it with his own, rubbing lube along your pussy and drawing excited pants from you. He dips a finger in you, feeling your pussy clench around his finger and grins. “Engel?” 

You nod, “please, König!”

He slid the head of his cock through your folds, your pussy throbbing as the slick head rubbed against your clit. You whined at not being filled but the way his heavy cock bounced on your clit already had you desperately begging. 

He managed a strained chuckle, holding himself back from immediately fucking you was one of the hardest things he’s ever done, and pushed the tip of his dick against your entrance. He used his right hand to hold your hips, and used his left hand to rub languid circles around your clit. 

You choked back a garbled moan as you felt him begin to stretch you out.  Your chest heaved as you rocked your hips up, encouraging him to keep going. You were whimpering, writhing against the bed grasping at his shoulders as he sunk deeper into you. He was so fucking big and barely got the tip of his dick inside of you before you pussy began to frantically pulsate around him. He groaned and forced himself to stay still, for both of your sakes. You looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears and drool pooling at the corners of your mouth, and he almost lost it. He promised he’d be gentle though, at least this time.

He grabbed the bottle of lube again and squeezed some more out on his dick before thrusting forward again. Your pussy clenched around him, squeezing him desperately, as he slowly filled you. Though the size of his cock stretched you beyond anything you’d ever felt before, though it teetered to just the wrong side of pain, you couldn’t get enough of it. Especially with the way his thumb kept playing with your clit. You cried his name and tried to grind your hips up. 

He slowly dragged his cock out, moaning at the sight of your pussy clinging to him, and started another agonizingly slow push. 

“König,” you started with a breathy whine, “faster. Please.” 

He dropped down to one elbow and nuzzled his nose against the side of your face, missing your lips as he tried to kiss you and simply licking at your jaw. He muttered your name hotly in your ear, your pussy quivering at the sound of his strained voice. 

He snapped his hips forward, burying his cock deep in you and started frantic, rapid, strokes. You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, he was so big and heavy and hard that your world was reduced to the pleasure he brought with every stroke of his amazing cock. 

He promised to be gentle, he knew he shouldn’t do it, but he couldn’t help but clamp his teeth down on your uninjured shoulder, muffling his own obscene moans as your pussy spasmed around him. His eyes rolled back in his head and his thrust became erratic, chasing an orgasm, as blood filled his mouth. Your blood was still so sweet, divine, enough to send him over the edge. His hips stilled as he cock twitched inside of you, spilling inside of you. 

You moaned, or screamed, when he bit you, leaving a second mark on you, and the string of his bite brought with it white hot pleasure. Hot cum filled you, your pussy convulsing rapidly, milking him and refusing to let go. 

He pulled out with a long groan, the two of you overstimulated and your pussy was still clenching around him, and collapsed to the side of you. He draped an arm around you and held you close to him, muttering something about angels in German that you didn’t have the faculties to translate at that moment. 

He was the first to recover, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning over to lick and kiss the fresh bite mark on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You gave a breathless laugh and lazily pulled his face up to kiss you. “Don’t worry, I liked it.” As if the mind blowing orgasm that followed the bite wasn’t a big enough hint.

“Now, can you let go of me?” 

“No.” 

Your laugh was sharper this time, and it brought a grin to his face. “Let go, I have to pee!” 

He sighed dramatically and grabbed your hand, bringing to his lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Come back to me?”

Even as you pulled your hand out of his, you could feel the smile that graced his lips upon hearing you giggle. But at least he finally let you go. 

Your post orgasmic high wore off while you were cleaning up and your mind, having been clouded by lust since he grabbed you at the bar, was able to think straight.

You walked back to the room, feeling shy at your lack of clothing, and saw that he had changed the top blanket on the bed. The other soaked in cum, apparently. 

He looked up and smiled, bright and energetic despite how tired he was. “Engel, you came back!” He joked as he rushed over and pulled you into a hug. 

You kept still, but with his arms wrapped around you, you could do little else. He picked you up, much as he had done back at the bar, and set you down in the bed before he curled up next to you and pulled the covers over both of you.

“König?” 

He hummed as he nuzzled his face in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating combined scents.

“...I never told you my name.” 

[Death’s Promise]

“...I never told you my name.” 

König doesn’t answer you, only tightens his hold around you. It’s only when you try to shift, to put just enough distance between you that you can turn around and face him, that he speaks. His voice deceptively calm, if the way his arms tighten around you again is anything to go by. “I already told you, you belong to me now.”

You frown. That was no answer to how he knew your name. Or, now that you thought about it, how he knew that you didn’t tell the police about him. 

“It. It wasn’t a coincidence that you were at that bar tonight, was it?” You try not to stutter.

He doesn’t answer, instead starts to press his lips into the hickey on your shoulder. A reminder of his claim. 

“How long have you been following me?” 

His lips continue to move from your shoulder to your neck, stopping to nibble at your pulse point. You can feel the grin on his lips when your pulse speeds up.

Whatever he is making you feel, you repeat the question. “How long have you been following me?” 

“Go to sleep, Engel.” 

“At least tell me why.” 

“To make sure no one else touches you.” 

Well, it’s not like you wanted anyone to touch you anyway. And his touch isn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, really.

You should stop this. Get away from him. You knew he was dangerous, you saw it first hand, and who knows how long he’d been following you. Maybe since that very night you were attacked.

And yet, “...No one?” “No one.” 

That actually sounded kind of nice…

-

Work sucked. Mostly because of one person and the fact that you felt like you could do nothing about it. All you could do was race out at the end of the day and get home as quickly as possible. 

Home…It took all of a week for König to move you from your flat (he said it wasn’t safe at your old place and you weren’t going to question what he meant by that) into his house. Was it a rushed relationship? Sure. Was it a questionable, leaning towards dangerous, decision on your part? Absolutely. Did you regret it? Not at all. 

You let your frustrations out on a bunch of vegetables, your knife chopping through them and onto the cutting board with increasing force. You didn’t even realize how hard you were chopping until a large hand stopped your own before it hit the board again. You froze, König’s other arm wrapping around your waist as he leaned down to rest his chin on your head. 

“Careful, Engel. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” 

“Oh! König! I didn’t even hear you come in!” You crane your neck back so he could place a soft kiss to your lips. He does so with a pleased hum. 

His face is bare, a sight you quickly came to love. He leaves the simple mask he usually wears hanging in the entranceway. (His sniper hood he only dons when he’s deployed or when he’s “hunting”). 

“How could you with all that noise you were making? What did that poor carrot do to you?” 

You let out a sheepish chuckle, “sorry. Just thinking about work stuff.” 

You picked up one of the carrot rounds and held it up by your shoulder, where he leaned down and nibbled it out of your hand. 

“What about work?” 

You resumed your chopping, much less forceful. “Ugh. Nothing really. Just this guy keeps bothering me.” 

He tensed behind you, his grip on your waist getting tighter, not uncomfortably so, just more protective, as he growled out his question. “Has he touched you?” 

“No! Well, not like that…” The shoulder squeezes and lingering pats on the back were unwelcome, but, as your supervisor said, meant nothing more than that the guy was being friendly. “It’s really annoying to have to pick up his slack, especially after all of his little inappropriate comments.” 

König nodded as he listened to your rant, but all he heard was some man had dared to put his hands on you, even if you didn’t think it was sexual, and said something inappropriate to you. “Want me to kill him?” 

“Yes!” You giggle at the joke.

“Ok.” 

You freeze and turn around to face him. “Wait. I’m kidding.”

He smiles and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ok.” 

“No,” you press your lips in a straight line. “I’m serious. You can’t kill him.” 

The way he tilts his head is far too cute for someone as large as he is casually discussing murder. “Why not?”

It had been a while since he killed anyone. Why shouldn’t he kill someone you hated? Two birds, one stone.

“Because he works with me!”

“Not for long.” 

You laugh and gently push him out of the kitchen and into the living room. Once in the living room, you make him sit down on the couch, having to resort to pulling him down for a kiss to get him to settle. His hands naturally fall to your hips as you straddle him, clutching at the fabric of the simple cotton dress you had changed into after work. 

“Now, you listen to me,” you start with a firm poke to his chest, only to stop when you realize you were still holding the kitchen knife in your hand. Oops. Knowing him, though, he probably liked you threatening him with it. You twisted around in his lap just enough to drop the knife onto the coffee table in front of the couch and return your attention to him. “As much as I want you to kill the bastard, you can’t.” 

He furrows his brows, and is practically pouting as he asks his question again. “Why?”

“Because, everyone knows I have a problem with him.”

“And he still works there?” 

You had to bite back a laugh. He had a point. You were not the first to draw unwanted attention from the guy. Why complaints from more than one woman didn’t lead to any disciplinary action was questionable. Still, you ignore his question and continue.

“When the cops find him dead, or missing, I’ll be a suspect.” 

König chuckles as he moves his hands gently up and down your sides, moving your dress higher up your thighs with each pass of his hands. “You? Little one?” 

This time you do laugh a little. “Let me finish!”

Schooling his face, he nods. “Ok, tell me how you will be suspected of murder.”

“Not me!” You answer with a faux exasperated sigh. “They’ll look at me and realize I have a hard time even hurting a fly. But one look at you,” you start to drag your hands on either of his forearms, fingers dancing along his veiny muscles. “My giant, strong, military trained boyfriend and they’ll get suspicious.”

His smile has dropped, either from your prediction, or the way your hands continue to tantalize him and move up his arms to rest on his shoulders.

“Even if they don’t find proof, they’ll at least surveille you for a bit. Do you really want the police looking into you?” 

For a moment he is quiet, no joking, even his grip on your hips is still. He can’t pretend that what you said is entirely unsound. No matter how careful he was to leave no trace behind, the personal connection to you would always be suspect. 

“So,” you lean in close to him, your lips hovering close to his. “You’re not going to kill him, right?” 

He averts his eyes and doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to lie to you, and your reason, while sound, isn’t enough to deter him. 

“König,” your voice is stern and you grab his chin and force him to look at you. 

“This man has touched you.” 

You want to roll your eyes. You want to pretend like he’s playfully overreacting. Certainly a couple of lingering pats does not warrant murder, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about König, at least when it comes to you, is that he’s intense. He is one hundred percent planning on killing your coworker just because he touched your shoulder. 

Your hands slide down his shoulders to rest on his chest, just above his heart where you clench at his shirt. “Promise me you won’t kill him.” When he still doesn’t answer you frown and press your forehead onto his. “I need you, König. I need you to stay with me.” Your voice wavers a little as you lock your eyes with his. “I need you to protect me.” 

“Fine, my love.” He finally sighs and captures your lips in a gentle kiss; he can’t stand to see you looking so sad because of something he might do. “I will not kill him.” 

“Good.” You nod and smile at him, and your smile is so brilliant that it is enough to sate his bloodlust. 

You lean forward again to kiss him, with all intentions to pull away and go back to making dinner. But his grip on your hips tightens and he holds you close and deepens the kiss. 

He smiles against your lips as you giggle when he doesn’t let you pull away. 

“I am curious.” You start, voice dropping like it wasn’t just the two of you in the house.

He hums against your lips then starts to drag his kisses down your jaw to your neck, grinning as your next words come out a little breathless. 

“If you were going to kill him, how would you do it?”

He actually stops and looks up at you, wondering if this was some kind of test.

You smile and give him a small peck on the lips. “Just hypothetically speaking, of course.” 

König licks his lips nervously, only relaxing when you take his right hand in both of yours and start to idly play with his fingers. 

“He touched you,” he starts and pauses again. You nod and give a little hum to encourage him to keep going. 

“I’d start with his hands.” 

You shift your eyes up to meet his before looking back down at his hand. You nod and turn his hand over, palm down in one of your hands as your free hand gently traces the veins on his hand. His fingers twitch underneath your touch and you sweetly smile at him, “keep going.” 

“I’d crush one of his hands beneath my boot.” 

You place his hand on the top of your thigh as you nod once again. You let out a quiet excited breath as he squeezes your thigh, his large hands hot against your skin. 

“Just one hand?” You ask coquettishly as you drag his hand down to the inside of your thigh.

He hums again, eyes locked between your thighs, at his hand slipping underneath your skirt. 

“I’d take my time with his other hand.” His knuckles brush your clothed mound, putting the lightest pressure on your clit. “Break his fingers one at a time.” 

You bite your lip and lock your eyes with his as you roll your hips forward, turning his touch on your clit from feather light to firm. 

His eyes darken, blood thrumming with excitement, and he can hardly tell what has him excited more, watching you squirm against his hand or sharing the kind of thoughts he long ago learned to keep to himself. The fact that he was sharing these thoughts with you, feeling your arousal dampen your panties, makes his heart beat wildly. 

He shifts his hand, turning it so that his thumb can start to rub small circles around your clit while his fingers dip into the edge of your panties. The back of his fingers slide against pussy, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit. You jolt and let out a small gasp at his touch, grasping at his shoulders to keep you upright so you can keep your eyes on him. 

He continued to tease your pussy, reveling in every little reaction from you, until you were a wet whimpering mess on his lap. “Then I’d smash his face in, for thinking he was worthy of even looking at you,” you moaned as he slipped a finger into you, “of breathing the same air as you.” He slowly started to slide his finger out, a smirk on his face as you rocked your hips forward.

“Maybe knock his teeth out for daring to talk to you.” He slid in a second finger, breathing a little faster as you moaned and fell forward further into him. You kissed him, tongue lapping at his lips before finding his own, as he pumped his fingers faster.

His free hand moved roughly from your hip to your breast, squeezing hard enough to draw desperate whimpers from you. He groaned and shifted to sit more comfortably, mouth dropping from your lips to your jaw, and pulled the top of your dress down. His lips capture your breast, tongue circling around the nipple, while his hand continues to knead and squeeze your other breast.  

Your head falls back and you gasp when he inserts a third finger, using his palm to rub your clit. He takes the opportunity to leave a surprisingly gentle kiss on the edge of the scar that peaks above your neckline. You shiver, despite how hot your body feels, as he pulls you closer to the edge. Your hips rock against his hand, your breath coming out in a combination of desperate pants and whines, every stroke of his fingers winding you up.

“But I will kill him with my hands around his neck, so I can watch him regret ever looking at you, as the life fades from his eyes.” 

Your whole body shakes as you cry out and fall forward, holding onto him with all your strength, as your pussy convulses wildly around his fingers, coating his hand in cum. 

König stilled as he watched you come down from your orgasm, panting and making cute little whimpers as he withdrew his hand. You were...glowing. It could have been the single ray of light coming in from a crack in the curtains illuminating your half naked body. Or the light sheen of sweat coating your skin that he was tempted to lick off you. But, he knew it was something else.

You had just come on his fingers as he described how he wanted to kill someone. You were truly an angel. A fucked up little angel sent to him by the god of death. If the military wasn't going to reward his skills, at least the universe had.

You shivered again and giggled into his shoulder before looking up at him with a smile. You hummed, squeezing your thighs together momentarily before sitting up and fixing your dress. You grabbed the discarded kitchen knife from the coffee table and planted a sweet and chaste kiss on his lips, as if he hadn't just finger fucked you to orgasm. "I need to finish making dinner."

He knew the moment he laid eyes on you, covered in blood and all, that he wanted you. He had no idea that he didn’t just want you, he needed you. 

He needed you. And he was just sitting there with a painfully hard boner while you walked back to the kitchen, legs shaky and making you lean on the walls and counter. He let you have a moment to calm down before bending you over the counter, ripping your soaked panties off of you and wildly fucking you. 

-

Not deployed and not “busy”, König's world revolved around you (and if his last deployment was anything to go by, you were his center regardless). He insisted on driving you to and from work. It was all great until you mentioned you would be working late one night. 

He went stiff and barely managed to get through his question without shaking in anger. “Will Christopher be working late with you?” 

You sighed, already dreading the late night dealing with your annoying coworker. “Yea, he's on my team.” Then you grinned, “maybe he'll see you when you drop me off and think twice before approaching me!”

König chuckled and leaned down to kiss you before slipping his face mask on. Honestly, he hoped that wasn't the case. He wanted an excuse to kill the man. 

That morning, of course, Christopher was late and didn't witness your incredibly large boyfriend help you down from his truck (not that you needed it, but he was ever the gentleman) as he dropped you off. 

You did your best to avoid Chris, but as the night dragged on, he became more persistent. 

“Someone’s a pretty little liar.” 

You sighed. You were already packing up, getting ready to leave, and he had to come and bother you one more time. “What?”

“I talked to Deb, and she said you don’t have a boyfriend.” 

Deb, the office gossip. 

“She doesn’t know everything about me.” 

Your phone buzzed just as you picked it up, a part of you was worried it was your supervisor, but one glance at the screen and you smiled. “And that’s him. He’s here to pick me up.” 

“I was just heading out, I’ll walk with you.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder and squeezed as he smirked at you. 

You stepped out of his hold and hurried to the door, confused when you didn’t see König’s truck waiting out front. Oh no. 

Your phone buzzed again, König telling you that he was in the far parking lot. 

“Well, where is he?” 

“Parked back there.” You gestured with your hand, from that distance even the truck looked small.

“What he can’t come get you? Maybe I should walk with you, talk to the guy.” 

You rolled your eyes and sidestepped his hand again. Whatever happened next was Chris’ own damn fault for being so fucking predictable.

Disabling the security cameras in the parking lot was easy. König sat in his truck, the temporarily distressed engine running idle, knee bouncing and fingers tapping the steering wheel excitedly. 

You hadn’t told him much about this Christopher, but from what you did, it was pretty much a given that he’d follow you through the parking lot. And lo and behold, König saw you and a man walking towards the truck. Every so often you’d take a side step and whenever König saw the man make the same step, closing the distance between the two of you again, his pulse just beat faster. 

Finally when you’re close enough, he jumped out of the truck and rushed to the passenger side. The sight of him even had you tense for a moment. Sure he was big, and the black tee shirt he wore did nothing to hide how muscular he was. But it was the sniper hood covering his face that made you pause. 

“What the fuck?” The man next to you muttered under his breath as you walked up to König.

König was fast to reach out and pull you to his side. 

At least he leans down to let you peck his cheek, though you got his chin instead, as a greeting. 

“Get in the truck. And don’t look.” 

You frown and pinch the edge of his mask. You’d only ever seen him wear it once. “I told you-”

“I know.” 

To Christopher’s credit, he was smart enough to try to get away as quickly and quietly as possible. König wasn’t having it though, and all it took was one giant step from him and he clapped his hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“Not so fast, hm?”

A shiver ran up your spine as you stood next to the truck. That cadence in König’s voice…

Chris tried to wiggle out of König’s hold, but his struggle only made König grip down harder. 

“You touched her-”

“N-no! I didn’t! She lied!” 

König’s eyes narrowed and Chris tried to stutter out another denial but was thrown into the asphalt face first, with a pathetic cry.

As Chris was trying to push himself up, König grabbed him by the back of his shirt and turned him around, pinning him on the ground.

Chris, a man who was in considerably good shape, still thought he had a chance to get away. He struggled, attempting to punch König in the ribs to get him to let go, but König chuckled. He then punched Chris directly in the face, a delightful burst of happy adrenaline running through his veins as he felt and heard the other man’s nose break underneath his hand.

Chris screamed, blood filling his mouth,  and rolled away from König, well, as much as he was allowed to. König stood back up, though remained hovering over Chris, who was doubled over in pain. After a few minutes, in which he shakily turned around and looked up, he managed to gasp out another plea. “Ok! Ok! I’ll leave her alone!”

“Good!” König beamed, his head tilted just slightly as he looked down at the other man. “But that is not enough.”

“W-what!” 

König grabbed a fistful of Chris’ hair and easily hauled him up and dragged him to the front of the still running truck. 

“I promised her no one would ever touch her again. What kind of man would I be if I let you get away with touching her?” Through Chris’ screams, he shoved Chris’ face onto the hood of his truck, the engine still running hot and burning the man’s face. 

As satisfying as it was to watch Chris get his ass handed to him so easily, things had already escalated too far. “König! That’s enough!” You shouted over the engine, over Chris’ fading cries and over König’s jovial laughter.

König froze and looked up at you, standing some feet away from the two men, and let Chris slump to the ground. “I told you to get in the truck.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you walked over to him, being careful to step around your barely conscious coworker. You looked up at him, his eyes were still wild, and his chest was starting to heave with how excited he’d become. If he had excess energy, you knew just what he could do with it instead.

You slid a hand up his chest to grip his collar, the fabric of his mask pooling around your wrist. He let you pull him down to your level and with your free hand, you lifted the mask just enough to kiss him. 

He moaned into the kiss, turning it heated rather quickly, his big hands on your ass and hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

It was only a pained weak cough from Christopher that stopped you. You pulled away from the kiss, his hood falling back over his face, and grinned at him. 

“I think you should get in the truck now.” You say with a seductive smile and a gleam in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

He nodded and instead of setting you on the ground, walked around to the passenger side of the truck, kicking Chris one last time for good measure, before gently setting you inside the truck and rushing over to the other side.

You’re careful not to hit the gear shift when he slides into the driver side and you slide up to him, lifting his mask to the bridge of his nose so you can kiss him again. His hands grab at you, pulling you as close as he could in the cramped space. One of your hands clutches at his shirt, landing on his firm chest and the other rests on his thigh. 

He breaks the kiss just for a moment, his breath starting to come out in a pant, and reaches up to grasp at the edge of his mask, but your hand quickly grabs his wrist and stops him, “leave it on.”

“O-oh?” He stutters as you palm his growing erection through his pants. 

“I like it,” you say as you lean forward and drop a kiss to his shoulder, then another below that, following the hem of the mask until you reach just below his collarbone. Your hand that sits on his chest has moved to his pectoral, where you give his nipple a little pinch, sending a shiver down his spine right to his dick. 

“Hah,” he breathes out half a laugh as you start to unbuckle his belt, “you like it?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Your hand drops from his chest so you can unbutton his pants.

He swallows hard when you take his heavy cock out and with a firm grip you wrap a soft hand around it, as much as you could, anyway. “It’s. It’s supposed to be scary.” 

“Oh, it is.” You look up at him, hand lazily stroking upwards, “that’s what I like about it.” 

He lets out a quiet groan when your thumb swipes across the underside of the head of his fat cock. Whatever other protest about his sniper hood he had is forgotten when you slide down the bench so you can put your mouth on him.  

He’s hard in your hands before you even lean down and his thick veiny cock throbs as you slowly part your lips. His left hand has an intense grip on the door, but his right hand flies into your hair, though he shakes a little as he tries to keep it gentle, so he can have a clear view of you. 

You start with small, feather light, licks to his swollen cockhead, one, two, and he’s already let out a soft whine and starts to nudge his hips forward, his cock following your tongue as it retreats back in your mouth. You smile and hum, giving in and swirling your tongue around the tip before pinching your lips just over the head of his cock, adding light suction as you do so.

“Please,” he whines, fingers starting to tighten around your hair. “Please, don’t tease me.” The way he has slipped back into his native language, his voice pitched higher as he thrusts his hips upwards when you sink your mouth further down his cock, makes your clit twitch and you have to squeeze your thighs together to help alleviate your neediness.

You moan around his cock, tongue continuing to circle the head of his dick, flickering at sensitive spots, as you take him into your mouth as far as you can. You don’t deep throat him, not yet, so your hand makes up for it by adding firm strokes in conjunction with the bob of your mouth. The cabin is filled not only with moans but the sound of wet suction, especially when you pop his cock fully out of your mouth and give greedy sloppy licks down his entire shaft. 

König loses a bit of control and when your mouth envelops him again, sinking down as far as previously, his hand pushes the back of your head down even more. You had been expecting it, the tightness in his thighs, the way he whined even more and babbled incoherently, and even though you braced yourself, you ended up choking and sputtering around his cock. It only adds more spit, more slip to the already sloppy blow job.

You sit up a bit and take a breath, hand still stroking up and down, before you dive back down. This time you look up at him as you sink your mouth on his cock, your eyes locking with his, even with his eyes so dilated they’re so blue in contrast to the black material of his mask that nearly blends into the darkness of the night. His eyes are wide, watering even, and when he sees you look up at him, mouth stretched around his big cock, his own eyes roll back as his hips start to buck harder, faster. He cries out his impending orgasm, first in German though, for your sake, he remembers to repeat it in English as well. 

Not that it matters, you offer him an encouraging, “mm-hmm” around his cock, letting him know that you wanted him to cum in your mouth and it drives him over the edge with a loud obscene moan, shooting rope and rope and rope of cum into your mouth.

You swallow what you can, the rest sliding down the side of your face as you sit up for air. His eyes are still closed as he pants for breath himself. Since he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention, you get a mischievous idea and lean in close to him, and use the edge of his mask to wipe your face clean.

He chuckles but doesn’t stop you, only taking your hand in his when he feels that you are done. 

Most of him is limp against his seat, except for the grip he has on your hand, his knuckles resting on your thigh. 

“Hey,” you reach over and gently tug at his hood, to which he leans down just enough for it to slip off. “You ok?” 

He gives you a lazy grin, face flush and hair starting to mat down. He doesn’t quite answer you though, instead pulls your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss across your knuckles.  

You smile and, blushing strongly at the innocent gesture despite the fact that you’d just swallowed a load of his cum, take your hand back so you could buckle up. “Let’s go home.” 

The ride home is somewhat odd. He hasn’t said a word since you had his cock in your mouth and that silence is a little worrying. It’s not until you’re back home that you finally break the silence.

“König? What’s wrong?” You stop him before he can retreat into the bedroom.

“Nothing, Engel.” 

“Then why are you so quiet?”

It’s almost comical to watch a man so big try to shrink away from your gaze. He’s squeezing one fist over and over, trying very hard not to twitch under your gaze.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth, as you put two and two together. “Wait! Did you not like- Did I…Did I give you a bad blow job?”

König’s head snaps up. “What! No!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“My love-” “Do you hate all my blow jobs?!”

He shakes his head vehemently and shouts your name, but you still talk over him. 

“Is it because I choke? I can’t help it! Your cock is just so big!” 

“No! My Engel,” he finally stops you with his hands on your shoulders, “I love watching you choke on my cock!”

You take a breath, forcing yourself to calm down and pout up at him. “Then what is it?”

He sighed and rubbed your shoulders for a moment before taking your hands in his. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

There had been a look in your eyes that night that he wrote off as you being so close to dying. But he saw it again tonight…

“Oh.” Your pout morphs into something much more stoic. “When that man…” You trail off, you both know what happened that night.

“Yea.” 

“What about it?” 

He glances away from you and chews on his lip before changing the subject. “Tell me, my love. Did you enjoy watching me kill that man?” 

“Yea.” You tilt your head, “why wouldn’t I? He got what he deserved.” 

He nodded. “Did you enjoy watching me almost kill your coworker?” 

This time it’s you that blushes and looks away. “Yea. I. I suppose being annoying doesn’t quite deserve that much violence, but…” what can you say? It was hot watching him so easily break the other man (oh and defending your honor too!). 

“And,” he paused, licking his lips, “did it turn you on?” 

Your face burns even more, “well,” you chuckle sheepishly, “that is why I blew you.” 

He frowned and dropped your hands, though remained somewhat hunched so he could properly look you in the eyes. “I kill people.” 

You squint at him, “yea…?” This wasn’t news to you…Why was he saying this? 

“Not just the man who tried to rape you. Not just in my capacity as a soldier.” 

Maybe you could understand where he was coming from. He never explicitly told you of his activities. You simply knew based on your first meeting and the way he spoke so casually about killing. “...Yea, I know…”

“I need you to know that, Engel.” 

You nod, “ok. Got it.” 

“But I would never hurt you.”

“I know. I trust you.” Which was a peculiar thing to say considering how just very recently you didn’t even know his name. 

Upon hearing your answer, König glanced away from you, face dusted pink and chewing on his lip. He was right. You were an angel made just for him.

You frowned, “what’s wrong?”

He was quick to pounce on you, giant hands on either side of your face and threading into your hair as he pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. He swallowed your surprised little yelp, his tongue sliding against your lower lip and teeth nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot on your lip before slipping into your mouth. 

He pulled you close, one hand solidly wrapped around your waist and the other pressed into your back, as you melted into his embrace. He only let go slightly when he moved his kiss to your jaw, down your neck, nipping at the scar below your neck. 

You sighed, resting your hands on his shoulders as he continued to sink lower, pressing gentle kisses over your clothes and dropped to his knees. 

He finally pressed a lingering kiss to the scar on your stomach, hands on your hips, and looked up at you, your name falling lovingly past his lips.

“You are perfect. Marry me.” 

You really didn’t think he was a marriage kind of man. You assumed that when he told you that you belonged to him, that he would protect you from then on, that it equated to marriage in his mind. But with the way he was looking up at you now, looking both very serious and very vulnerable, to him, this was more than that.

“Oh, König,” you reply softly, your hand drifting from his shoulder to cup his face. He leans into your touch and never breaks eye contact with you.

You bend down and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Yes.” 

He laughs happily when he pulls you into another strong kiss. He’s still laughing when he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. 

[Death’s Haven]

Your husband was a killer. Not some vigilante with a twisted sense of justice. No, he simply needed to kill. For most of his life, this need was satiated through his career in the military. However, now that he was in the private sector, he had more time between jobs. Which led to the current reason you were home alone late at night.

He'd been between deployments for four months now. Yelling at recruits and paperwork was nearly driving him insane. When he started disappearing at night, when he spent his free time in secret, you knew what he was up to. You didn't ask him about it. You just made sure he had dinner and a clean home to come back to.

You were already asleep in bed when he came home tonight. When you felt him crawl into bed, hands sliding across your waist so he could hold you to his chest. He was very tactile like that, once he had you, he always had to be touching you in some way.

You let out a quiet sigh and shifted to get comfortable, vaguely aware that he was only wearing his boxers.

"I'm sorry, Engel. I did not mean to wake you."

"What time is it?"

"Three."

You grunted. Much too late (or perhaps, too early). Though you supposed coming home at three am was better than him coming home at five only to wake up at six to go to work.

You yawned and shifted, turning around so you could kiss his cheek. "Welcome home." You sighed, eyes already closing again as you cuddled up to him and started to fall back asleep.

König hummed, his hand gently moving up and down your hip, slipping underneath the tee shirt that you stole from him to use as a nightgown.

His soft touch chased away your sleep as his fingers dragged up and down your lower back. You wiggled your hips, attempting to get away from his touch by pressing your body further into him. "That tickles."

"Sorry," he muttered, lips brushing against your temple. "I missed you."

If your eyes weren't closed you'd roll them. Your big, strong, serial killer of a husband was sweet, cute even, acting like you hadn't seen each other for weeks.

But then you felt his hard on pressing against your thigh. Oh. He missed you like that. Yea. That made sense. Even though he slipped in late at night or early in the morning to see you before you left for work, you hadn't had sex since he started his recon a few days ago.

You nuzzle against his chest and smile, "did you?" You slide a hand down his stomach and fiddle with the waistband of his boxers. "I'd never be able to tell." 

He groaned and pushed you onto your back, knocking your legs apart enough for him to settle between. His kiss is rushed, tongue pushing past your lips eagerly, while he starts to grind his hips into yours. You let out an airy gasp when his kisses trail down your jaw to the scar on your neck. A scar you were once ashamed of, once associated with a moment of indignity. König insisted that your scars weren't ugly or shameful, they were proof that instead of taking you for himself, the god of death had given you to him as a gift. 

“What?” You rolled your eyes when he first told you such. “Is he a king and I'm one of his kids he can just give away?” 

He threaded his fingers into your hair and pulled, forcing you to expose your neck to him. “I am your only King. And you are my Angel.” 

Your leg hikes further up his waist, one of his hands splaying across the back of your thigh as he ruts into you again. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his face back towards you as you attempt to kiss him again, instead he opens his mouth to mumble words against your lips.

“There was a witness.”

And you froze. The only witness he’s ever left before was you. For a moment you’re worried. Was this another damsel in distress that he saved? Was there another broken girl in his truck right now, waiting patiently to become your sister-wife? 

You push a steady hand against his chest that he ignores and continues to suck hickey onto your neck. “What?” 

He hums against your skin, moving his kiss down, where he nips at one of your breasts through the fabric of your chosen nightgown. He mistakes the concern in your voice as concern for him. He returns to your mouth, an eager heavy kiss pressed to your lips until he pushes his tongue into your mouth that you respond to tentatively. 

“I killed him too.” 

His hips grinding into yours, with his hard cock teasing your pussy through layers of thin fabric, draws out a needy whine from you. "O-oh?"

He grunts, breathing quickening as he starts to push your shirt up. "That's why I'm so late, my love.” He was quite eager, it seemed, as one of his hands slipped underneath your back to lift you so he could quickly pull the shirt completely off of you. “There was a lot of blood.” He finished his explanation (not that you asked for one) as he nuzzled his face between your breasts. 

You wanted to giggle, both because his slight stubble on your bare chest tickled and how silly you felt that he basically just motorboated you, but with the way he was already licking and sucking at your tits, your giggle quickly morphed into a moan. And then you finally registered his words. 

A bloodsoaked König, with his sniper hood hiding his face, looked like a monster straight out of a horror movie. The thought of it turned you on so much. “Yea?” Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you lifted your hips to meet his, pressing against his hard dick. 

He chuckled as he sat up on his knees, still between your thighs, and tugged at your panties. You raise your hips enough for him to pull them down and toss to the side.

He leaned over you once again, propping himself up on his left arm, while his right hand found its way to your thigh again. You sighed as he all but had you pinned between his large frame and the bed. There was something frightening about his size, he was almost too big to be human, and yet he also possessed the uncanny ability to make you feel safe, no matter how vulnerable you were.

His fingers dipped between your thighs, his chuckles fading into a low groan when he finds how aroused you are. “You like that, Engel? Want to see me covered in blood, hm?” 

A gasped, “uh-huh!” is all you can offer when his fingers, coated in your slick, rock against your clit. 

König pulls his hand away all too soon, and the frustrated whine you puff out isn’t missed by him. You almost think he is going to tease you, that he is going to revel in the way you’re so desperate for him already, but there is a vulnerable sincerity in his eyes when you look up at him. 

“...Are you proud of me?”

Your lust is momentarily forgotten as you slide a hand to his face, gently cradling his face. His eyes closed as he leaned into your soft and touch. 

It was one thing to know that you accepted his proclivities, another entirely to know that you loved that part of him.

You gently run your thumb over his cheek bone so he could look at you again. You supposed you hadn't shown much enthusiasm for his activities since he nearly killed your coworker. You pull him down for a gentle kiss, whispering your answer against his lips. "Yes."

You even have a surprise for him, but the kiss that followed was much less delicate and much more needy on his part. It’s like he’s trying to mold himself to you, trying to fuse your soul to his. It’s as if he doesn’t want to let you go. And you give into him, forgetting about the little gift. You don’t want him to let go either. 

You’re so pliable under his touch, the way you so easily give your body over to him reminds him of the first night he met you. When you were too weak to stop him from ripping the shreds of your dress off of your body, too weak to stop him from moving your hands to stem the bleeding of a knife wound that should have killed you. The memory of your body, pinned underneath him now, covered in the sweetest blood has him biting down on your shoulder roughly. You gasp and whimper underneath him, only squirming not to get away from him, but to get closer to him. 

He drags his mouth down your body, trailing searing kisses along your skin. As always he pays special attention to the scar that dips below your collarbone, tracing the contours with his tongue as if he hasn't already committed every inch of it to memory. As always as well, he takes his time with your breasts, switching between rough nips into your flesh and gentle swirls of his tongue around the nipple. Every little hitch in your breath, every whine that pushes past your lips, alights his blood on fire.

His hips buck forward, seeking relief in the friction of his hard cock against the soft warm plush of your thighs. You whine, one hand resting on his shoulder and one tangled in his hair, as you feel the hot velvety skin of his cock rubbing the insides of your legs, pre cum smearing on your skin and you're not sure whether to pull him back up so he can stuff your pussy with that massive cock of his, or to push him down so he can lavish his attention elsewhere on your body.

König makes the decision for you as he continues to kiss and nip and lick his way down your body. He attempts to repeat the loving kiss with the scar on your stomach, attempts to trace it with his lips, but you become impatient and push his head, making him chuckle into your skin, which in turn has you also giggling.

He presses a lingering kiss to your pubic bone with a grin plastered on his lips, "so eager for me."

You huff, and make sure to exaggerate the little pout you throw at him. "Don't tease. It's been too long."

This draws another chuckle from him, though he spreads your thighs further apart so he can comfortably fit between them. "Less than a week, my angel."

You prop yourself up on one elbow and reach for his face, forcing him to look at you as you hit him with a trembling lip and the saddest eyes you could muster in the moment. "You promised to take care of me, König."

He stills at your words, muscles tense and eyes so wide that even in the dim light you could see the whites of his eyes. You were right, of course. How could he deny his sweet angel what you desperately wanted, needed? Especially when it was him that you needed. He gently places a hand over yours, never breaking eye contact with you, as he pulls your hand from his face and gently kisses the inside of your wrist, taking your little teasing to heart. “I will.” 

That is all the warning you get before he is diving between your thighs. His breath is hot on your skin as he kisses and licks his way towards your pussy. He doesn't ignore any part of you, his left hand both massaging your inner thigh, kneading at the sensitive flesh and keeping your legs parted wide enough for him.

By the time he draws his tongue through your folds, you're already a quivering mess. His long, deliberate, slow licks have you moaning and gripping his hair. His right arm anchors your hips to the bed, keeping you in place as his tongue circles your clit. You try to muffle the obscene moans that fall from your lips, but König knows you, knows what you like, and drags his tongue down your slit, curls his tongue inside of you to lap at you juices. His own moans fill the air with yours, the subtle vibrations only driving you crazier.

His name is a chant on your lips, your hands gripping his hair even more as you try to fuck his face. He groans and releases the iron grip he has on your hips, right hand snaking up to your chest where he roughly gropes at your tits.

He holds you down for your sake, so he can lick and suck and nip without losing his place between your legs. But as you near your edge, he lets go because there's nothing he loves more than when you shove your pussy into his face. His mouth parted, tongue dragging over every inch of you and pushing into your pussy. His nose bumps and rubs against your clit as he enthusiastically moves his head, his stubble scratching pleasantly against the inside of your thighs.

He could, and probably should, stretch you out a little with his fingers, prepare you for the girth that is his cock, but he’s selfish and wants you to come on his tongue. He switches his pace, frenzied flicks of his tongue on your clit, followed by long firm strokes through your folds until he pushes his tongue into your pussy. He moans again, savoring the ambrosia that he pulls from you with every swipe of his tongue. 

It’s when he starts to rock his hips into the bed, seeking to relieve his aching cock, that it feels like a final wave pushing you to your orgasm. Your thighs squeeze around his head as you pussy clenches wildly around his tongue, aching to be filled and stretched out even more. He continues to slurp at your pussy, his tongue covered in your cum as he gently offers small and gentle licks to your clit, following the movement of your hips without holding you down. 

König is liable to spend too much time between your legs. Liable to ease you down from your orgasm only to pull another one from you. And you’re liable to forget that you were supposed to give him his gift before fucking.

“S-stop! I! I!” You cry and whine and try to push his face away from your oversensitive clit. 

With a grunt, he finally relents and drops a few soft kisses to your thigh before propping himself up on his elbows and running the back of his arm across his face. “What is it, Engel?” 

After a moment to catch your breath, you finally look at him and smile softly at the way he's looking up at you so adoringly. "I have something for you."

A grin breaks out across his face as he kisses your thigh and moves as if he's about to start eating you out again.

"Not that!" You laugh and lightly push his face away from your still sensitive pussy. "Come here," you pat the bed next to you, inviting him to sit down for a moment.

"I got you something," you say as you give him a quick peck to the lips when he sits down beside you.

His hand slides to your waist and you know he's about to pull you on top of him, but you pull away quick enough to turn to the nightstand and flip on the lamp.

There’s some shuffling beside you as you open the drawer. The first thing your hand catches is a bottle of lube, that’s not what you were looking for, but you set it on the table anyways.

One of his hands lands on your thigh and squeezes as he leans with you, his mouth dropping small kisses to your shoulder. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Oh, I guess not.” You say as you put a rectangular box on top of the side table and turn to face him again.

He’s shucked his boxers off, instead of shoving his dick through the opening in front, and has his left hand holding the heft of his hard cock. Your eyes drop down to the wide pink mushroom head and immediately forget that you had been trying to gift him something. 

His right arm wraps around your waist as you kiss him and he pulls you atop one of his thighs. You whimper into his mouth as you grind down on his thigh, your already slick pussy making the glide easier and the friction electrifying. Even as you rock your hips back and forth, one of your hands wraps around his cock, next to his own hand. You both groan at the contact, Him at the way you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting pre cum and spreading it over down as you give him sensual little pumps. You groan as you and your pussy clenches achingly at the reminder of how big his cock is, the way there’s enough length for the both of you to stroke down, and the way your fingers don’t even meet around his girthy width. 

As you rest your forehead against his, lip tucked between your teeth as you continue to ride him, you notice his eyes flicker to the side table for just a second.

“You want to see it?” You ask with a breathless laugh, still chasing the pleasure grinding down on his thigh offers. 

He grabs the hand you have wrapped around his cock and makes you squeeze him harder, speaking with a groan as he thrusts his hips up. “Just tell me what it is.” 

“And ruin the surprise?” 

He grunts and grabs your hips, halting your gyrating, while simultaneously smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss is rough, aggressive even, as his tongue tangled with yours, preventing you from further teasing him. Still you moan and giggle into the kiss and blindly reach behind you until you find the box.

“Just open it real quick.” 

He sighed and reluctantly let go of your hips as he took the box from you. “What is the occasion?” 

The real reason? You wanted him to remember you. You were afraid you were nothing but a novelty to him. He wanted you for now, but soon he’d get bored of you and send you away. If you were lucky, he’d kill you, but you were never that lucky in life. He’d provide a safe home for you, make you feel safe standing next to him at the grocery store, or as he picked you up from work. Then he’d leave you, leave you fearing every shadow and bump in the night. To live in the hell that was his absence. 

“A hunting knife?” He unsheathed it, admiring the sheen and sharpness of the hooked blade.

It was deadly sharp, meant for skinning game. It wasn’t anything fancy. Perfectly utilitarian. 

You hummed and stretched out again, this time to grab the bottle of lube you set aside earlier. “You’re the one that asked me if I am proud of you.” You pour some lube into one of your hands, “I was thinking about what you do, and thought you might like this.” You wrap your hand around his cock, spreading the lube along his thick shaft, “at the very least it can make a cute paperweight for your desk.” 

König groans and shuts his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head against your shoulder, as you pump his now very slick cock. His hot breath fans over your skin as he mutters your name and nips at your shoulder. But he pauses when you lean to the side and expose the top of your scar to his mouth.

Suddenly he pulls away from you and looks back at the gifted blade. “You wanted to see me covered in blood, Engel.” 

It’s not a question, though you give him a quiet little “mm-hm" before you’re sitting stock still with a blade pressed against your throat. His cock throbs in your hands as your eyes flick up to meet his. His eyes, blown wide with lust, flicker between your own gaze and the knife he holds to your throat. 

“I have never seen blood as beautiful as yours.” 

Your heart thumps in your chest, and pussy, at his words. Did he think of your blood often? Did he still think of that night? 

You squeeze your hand, giving a tantalizing grip to his cock, and tilt your head to the side, whispering a loving taunt. “It belongs to you.” 

You see droplets of blood splatter across his face before you feel the sting of your flesh sliced open. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, as pain catches up to you. There’s a clatter of the knife being tossed onto the nightstand before you feel his large hands digging into your hips and moving you so that you are fully straddling him. 

The head of his cock slides through your folds before nudging your clit and sends a wave of pleasure through you that distracts from the pain. You whimper and shudder when you open your eyes to see the look on his face. You imagine that this is what he looked like the night he saved you, but now you see him unmasked, see how the sight of you bleeding before him is nearly driving him insane. 

König moaned when he felt the first drop of blood hit his face, his cock jumping out of your hand and pulsing wildly. Your pained little gasp that followed did not assuage his desire, if anything it fueled it even more. He quickly discarded the knife and pulled you over him, his lubed up cock running along your slick pussy drawing moans out from both of you. 

He looked up at you, lost in bliss as you rocked your hips into him, rubbing your clit onto his cock, and snaked a hand into your hair to pull you down. He breathed in the air around you, filled with the scent of your combined arousal and sweat and, as he pushed his face into your skin, the light coppery scent of your blood. 

You whined again when he disturbed the cut on your neck, the fresh wound following the exact path of the previous one, only to cry out when he drug his tongue through the blood. 

“You have the sweetest blood, my angel.” 

And with a quick, rough, grip to the back of your head, he pulled you into a searing kiss. His tongue immediately found yours as if he was intent to share the taste of you, of your blood and cum. 

His face is smeared in blood when you pull away from his hungry kiss and look at him again. You rest your forehead against his and pant for breath, eyes locking with his as he lifts your lips and properly lines his cock up. 

You whimper when you feel the head of his cock start to spread you, but even his lust filled haze he’s aware enough of himself to go slowly, letting you sink down onto his girthy length at your own pace. 

“König,” you cry when you take him fully, your entire body hot and desperate to be close to him. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, his face tucked into your neck as you start to move your hips up, sliding back down with a moan as he fills you. 

He’s not quiet when your pussy squeezes and pulses around his cock, it feels too good to hold in the moan that rips out of his throat when you start to bounce on his cock. Slick. Your blood and sweat against his skin, your wet pussy around his cock, it’s all heavenly slick and he wants more. He groans and roughly guides your hips down to meet his own thrusts. You cling to him and moan as he easily lifts you only to slam you back down.

“My angel,” he growls hotly into your ear, his eyes rolling back when your pussy flutters tightly around his cock. 

He’s quick to shift positions, cradling the back of your head as he throws you onto your back. You only get to mourn the loss of his cock inside you for a moment before he is throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and bullying his cock back into your pussy.

The new angle allows him impossibly deeper, your moans are so loud you’re nearly screaming at this point. He moans loudly along with you when he glances down between your bodies and sees as he feels how your pussy clings to his cock, doing its best to not let go of him every time he pulls out. 

Your pussy aches and gapes when he pulls all the way out, slipping and accidentally brushing the head of his cock over your clit. You cry out, from the sensation of his slicked cockhead on your clit and for him, even this second without him filling you up is too long without him. You hook the leg he doesn’t have over his shoulder over his waist as he thrusts his cock back into you. It feels like he hits every nerve in your pussy, his pelvis grinding against yours and rubbing your clit and you can’t even say his name as your entire body begins to shake. 

Your orgasm is overwhelming, you claw and grab at König, yet at the same time the consistent grinding of his pelvis on your clit and his huge cock pistoning in and out of you has part of you wanting to push him away. He doesn’t let you, instead he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, chasing his own release. 

König’s head drops to your shoulder, chin hitting the cut on your neck, and groans loudly as you come on his cock, your pussy clenching around him dizzyingly tight. He growls and groans when you begin to struggle against him, sending him over his own edge. He breathlessly stills as his cock throbs, filling you with his cum as your pussy continues to clench around his cock. 

Eventually his hips slow down to a slow, sensual, grind, meeting your hips in the lazy aftermath. He drops your leg from his shoulder and braces himself on his forearms while he continues to nuzzle his face into your neck, sloppy open mouth kisses licking up blood and sweat.

“König,” you sigh and nudge him. He may be holding most of his weight off of you, but he’s still crushing you into the mattress and at this point it’s so hot that it’s starting to become difficult to breathe.

He grunts, his cock giving a final pulse as he pulls out, and rolls to the side. His hand lands heavily on your thigh, “give me a moment, Engel, and I will clean you up.” 

You whine at the sudden empty feeling and, with considerable effort, turn on your side and cuddle up to him, moving his arm around you. He embraces you, eyes closed as he basks in his post orgasmic bliss. 

“You look like a vampire.” You say with a light chuckle and brush a thumb across his chin.

He grins and opens one eye to look at you, “if I could live off of your blood, Engel, I would.” 

Your laugh is cut short with a grimace as you feel his cum leak out of your pussy. “Ok, I need to get up.” 

He sits up with you and pulls you into his lap before standing. “Let me.”

“You don’t always need to carry me to the bathroom!” 

“Can you walk?” 

Actually, probably not. 

König leaves the shower first, letting you relax under the hot water a little longer while he changes the sheets on the bed. There was too much cum, sweat and blood to ignore for the night. 

He’s waiting patiently for you when you finally get out of the shower. He’s thoughtful enough to lay one of his shirts out on the clean sheets for you to wear when he’s finished bandaging you up. 

“It’s not even that bad,” you say as you let him apply an ointment and a gauze bandage on the cut that’s barely bleeding anymore. 

He doesn’t really respond, just grunts and makes sure to secure the bandage properly before he turns around to set everything down on the nightstand. 

“Ah! König!” You gasp and slap a hand over your mouth when you see long scratch marks on his back, small beads of blood surfacing on his skin.

“What!” He turns quickly, eyes wide, afraid that he hurt you.

“I’m so sorry!” You squeak out behind your hand.

“What?” 

You hang your head and hide your face in your hands. “Your back is bleeding!”

“What?” He cranes his neck to look at his own back. 

“How embarrassing,” you mumble to yourself as you take the towel that’s wrapped around you and dab the bit of blood off of him.

His chuckles turn into a laugh, a full loud sound deep from his belly, as you fuss over him. He barely lets you touch his back before he is reaching behind him and pulling you onto his lap.

He stops your protests with a kiss, a smile still pulling at his lips even as he runs his tongue over your lips. “I cut you with a hunting knife, Engel, and you’re worried about little scratches?”  

“Fine,” you hum and pull away from him enough to slip on the tee shirt he laid out for you. “But if it scars, it’ll be the least cool story you’ve got.”

He turns off the lamp as you climb under the blankets. “I disagree. It’ll be my favorite. Next time, I will make you scratch my back even more.” 

König grinned at your little laugh as you settled into his embrace for the night. No, you didn’t hurt him and no he didn’t mind a tiny bit of blood spilled. He’d drown in your blood if he could, how could he not offer you the same? 

[takerfoxx]

So long as I'm getting caught up on all my stuff, here's the next installment of the Walpurgis Nights girls watch The Rebellion Story, this time stretching from Homura shooting herself in the head to her talk with Sayaka the vague-poster!

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

=still screaming=

G: Turn it off, TURN IT OFF!

Ok, panicking: I got it, I got it! Off!

=TV winks out=

Ch: Sweet Christ!

=long pause, and then Gretchen gets up and runs off. Homulilly quickly follows=

Ch: This was a mistake.

Op: What. The fuck?

Ca: I should have known. I should have known it would go this way.

Ch: Candy, there’s no way you could have-

Ca: No! There was! I knew how bad it could get! I knew how far we could have fallen! I shouldn’t have let you guys see any of this.

Ok: It’s not your fault.

Ca: I still should have known. I should have at least screened this!

Ch: Yeah, one of us probably should have.

=another long pause=

Ok: So, uh, are we, like, done?

=suddenly Gretchen reenters the room, followed by Homulilly. They silently return to their seats=

G: Okay. Play it.

Op: Gretch, are you sure?

G: I need to know. I need to know what happens to her. I need to know if we turn out okay. Play it.

=everyone exchanges uncomfortable glances, and then look to Homulilly, who slowly nods=

Ok: Okay, if you say so…

Op: We’d better ease it with the commentary. I mean, this isn’t something we can-

G: No! Please, no. The talking…and the jokes…well, it makes it easier.

Op: Sure.

Ch: It’ll be kind of hard to find anything funny about this.

Ca: We can try to do what we can.

=they start the movie, and silently watch as Homura falls in slow motion, blood and brains spewing out. And then…=

Op: Wait, hold up! How is she still moving?

Ca: As I said, something like that won’t kill her. You would need to destroy her soul gem.

Op: So she can straight up just blow her own head off and walk it off?

Ca: So long as the act of healing didn’t use up too much magic, yes.

H: Okay, but why? Why would I do something like that?

Ca: Let’s find out.

…

Ok: Uh…Ooooh.

H: Oh. Really?

G: What’s going on?

H: I couldn’t get rid of the ribbon on my ankle. Every time I tried to shoot it off, Mami would just grow it back. So I tried shocking her so badly that she wouldn’t think to regenerate the ribbon long enough for her to be caught in the time-stop.

Op: By shooting yourself in the head?!

H: Clearly, I have a considerable amount of emotional issues.

Ch: You know, it’s really starting to concern me how you keep referring to her as yourself just now.

H: I apologize. I will try to differentiate between my alternate selves.

Ok: Oh great, now I’ve gone cross-eyed.

…

Ch: So…this is really uncomfortable. Again.

G: Is she going to shoot Cand-I mean, Mami?

Ca: I mean, there’s clearly a moral struggle.

H: Well. At least I didn’t turn out as a complete sociopath.

Ok: This is seriously gross. Can we just skip this part?

Ca: No.

Ok: But-

Ca: No.

Ok: Okay.

…

Op: In the leg. Well, I guess that’s not as-

Ok: HOLY!

G: What’s happening? What’s going on?

Op: Sweet flames, she’s…a ribbon monster? The fuck?

=pause, and then Charlotte starts laughing hard while Candeloro just sighs=

Ok: Charlotte! Explain! Now!

Ch: She did it! She actually did it!

Ok: Did what?!

Ch: You’ll see!

H: Wow, I am…I mean, she is just all tied up now.

G: Wait, Mami’s there? But I thought…then what was…

Ca: Oh, good grief.

Ok: Wait. Wait a second, you can clone yourself?!

Ca: It’s…not so much a clone as it is a puppet.

Ok: Since when could you do that?!

Ca: Um, well, I had figured it out a short time before our, um, deaths. I was training with Kyo…with Ophelia, and we were practicing with her illusion magic. You know, the duplicates?

Op: Uh-huh.

Ca: Well, she suggested that perhaps I could do something similar with my ribbons, since I could use my ribbons to form other objects. And, well…it worked.

Op: Ooooh. Okay, that’s actually kind of awesome.

H: I was fighting a copy the whole time?! How is that fair?

Ch: You can literally freeze time!

H: Hey, wait. How do you know that she could do that, Charlotte?

Ch: How do you think?

Ca: Like we said: our therapist suggested building positive associations around my change. We had to get creative.

Op: Oh, come on, that’s not fair!

Ok: Wait, you were the one betting on her!

Op: I’m not talking about that! When I do my duplicate trick all I can do with them is give Tavi a show! It’s not like she can touch any of them!

Ok: Babe. Relax. It’s honestly fine.

Op: All I’m saying I should be able to give you a lap dance while the striptease is going on.

G: TMI! TMI!

Ch: You, uh, do know that you can give her the lap dance and let your illusions handle the striptease, right?

Op: Do you know how hard it is to handle two kinds of dancing at the same time when you’re horny?

G: Please, I am begging you to stop!

…

Ch: So…I think someone owes me and Fee-Fee some talents.

Ok: Fight’s not over yet!

Ch: It clearly is…

G: You don’t know that! Maybe Homura will drop a hand-grenade to blow the ribbons up! Or maybe Kyoko will come to save her.

Op: Look, if other-me tags in, that’s an automatic forfeit. This is supposed to be one-on-one, and that clone trick is stretching things as it is.

H: Wait, wait, shut up. Wraiths? What are wraiths?

Ok: Dunno.

Ch: Did we miss something? I get that that nightmares replaced the witches, but what are wraiths?

G: Maybe…after I erased witches, wraiths are what replaced them!

Op: We should’ve just watched the damn show first.

Ch: Do you really think it’ll make things make more sense?

Op: Probably not, but at least we’d know about half of these names!

Ch: Jesus Christ, the fuck is that?

Ok: The sky wants to eat that giant walnut, apparently.

Ch: I can see that, but what does it mean?!

G: I think that’s an eye, actually.

Ok: An eye with teeth.

Ch: None of that answers any of my questions.

Op: Nope, this would still be just as weird even if we watched the show.

…

Ch: And here comes the rescue! Via…fire extinguisher for some reason. Sorry girls, Mami takes this.

Ok: Fine, fine. Thanks a lot, Homulilly.

H: Not my fault. None of us knew about the duplicate thing. I had her beat until then.

Ok: Wait, is that a sword?

Op: Guess it ain’t me with the steel chair, then!

G: Well, of course not. It’s a sword.

Op: That’s not…never mind.

Ok: It’s me! I’m coming in to save you!

H: I’m touched. But…why?

Ok: Because I had fifty talents riding on you, and you let me down.

H: Oh, don’t start.

Op: Wait. That ain’t your voice, Tavi.

Ok: Who else has a sword?!

G: Um, who is that?

Ch: Some kind of kid. Candy, do you recognize her back from before?

Ca: No, I really don’t…

Op: Wait, BEBE?!

Ch: Excuse me?!

H: Um…this is…a turn.

Ca: Don’t look at me, I’m as bewildered as you are.

Ch: Oh, so first I’m a creepy idiot doll, and now I’m a fucking child?!

Op: What is this, some kind of alternate universe bullshit?

Ok: I mean, basically. Uh, you okay over there, Charlotte.

Ch: Nope!

Ok: Wanna take a break?

Ch: Yes!

…

=everyone returns after half-an-hour=

Ch: I think I’ve figured it out.

H: Oh?

Ch: Butterfly effect. Like, okay, in this universe, Madoka somehow erased all witches, right? I mean, made it so magical girls don’t turn into witches anymore, right? And did it all through history, right?

H: Presumably.

Ch: So that means that there has to be major repercussions! Like, like, this girl doesn’t turn into a witch fifty years ago, so she doesn’t eat some random passerby, and that rando goes and marries someone that would have married someone else in the original timeline, so they have a completely different set of kids, so the kids they would have had originally don’t get born! So somewhere down the line, things got all screwy and I ended up being born a few years later!

G: Wow, that actually makes a lot of sense.

Op: I guess we’re all super-lucky that we got born at all. And that the rest of us ended up more-or-less the same. Um, no offense.

Ch: Right. That’s all it is. Different timeline, things happened differently, and I’m a little girl in this world. That’s it.

Ok: So…are you okay with this then?

Ch: Oh, absolutely not! But I can at least deal with it now!

Op: Bet’cha anything that good ol’ Bebe here still has a major crush on Mami.

Ch: Oh, God! Don’t even go there!

Op: I’m just sayin’…

Ca: Ophelia…

Op: Stopping, stopping.

H: Shall we continue?

Ch: Yeah, I guess. I’m gonna need major therapy after all this is over, though.

G: We all will.

…

Ok: Okay, I know this is probably a bad time to point this out, but Sayaka has style!

Op: I mean, you’re not wrong. Look at you, being all effortlessly cool! Not that you aren’t already.

Ok: Nice save there.

Ch: Haha, Sayaka’s got it right! Taking on Mami was a dumb idea. Speaking of which…

Ok: Oh, come on! That clone trick was dirty and you know it!

Ch: Oh, I’m sorry. Are you upset that she so happened to have something that counters Homura’s extremely unfair timestop power?

Op: She’s got a point. A bet’s a bet.

G: All right, I guess it’s official. Mami won.

=Candeloro smirks=

H; You don’t have to be all smug about it.

Ca: True. I don’t.

…

G: Wait…

Op: So, what, Sayaka knows what’s going on?

Ok: Of course I do! I mean, I’m the brains of the bunch!

=Homulilly coughs=

Ok: I heard that.

H: I didn’t say anything.

Ch: Well, finally some exposition!

G: I do sort of wish that she’d just tell Homura what is going on without being so vague about it.

Ok: Look, I’ve been pretty much on the wayside this whole movie. Let me have my monologue.

Ch: What’s she getting at though?

H: Oh.

Ch: Huh?

H: I think…Never mind.

G: What is it?

H: I just had sort of a realization, but I’d rather not say it now.

Op: Eh?

H: Hang on. Let’s just watch a bit more.

…

Op: Jesus, Tavi! No need to show Homura up like that!

Ok: Let! Me! Have! This!

Ch: That was pretty cool, though. Shwing! Stopped her cold!

G: Wait, so one of us is the…

=voice trails off=

G: Is it me?

H: Um…

Op: Oh.

Ok: Oh.

Ch: What? Oh, okay. I get it now.

Ca: I sort of put it together too.

G: What? What are…Oh.

=everyone looks at Homulilly=

H: Well, it only makes sense. I guess.

Ch: You don’t seem all that upset about it.

H: Well, at least I get to become my best self in this movie.

G: But…how though? I thought I erased witches or whatever!

Ok: Let’s find out.

Ch: If your other self can ever get to the point.

Ok: Shhh…

…

Ca: Wait, I’m the witch? Is that what she’s implying?

Ch: Pretty sure that’s just a red herring.

Ok: You know, it’s nice that Sayaka is actually being all sympathetic toward witches. I mean, it’s kind of fucked up, isn’t it? That even the magical girls that know the score still hunt down witches instead of trying to help them.

G: I mean, it can’t really be helped, can it?

Ok: I know, I just like that I’m saying it.

G: The Law of Cycles? What’s that?

Op: Probably whatever trippy business you replaced the witch stuff with.

H: Oh, now I’m finally just saying it out loud! Madoka erased witches. Took us long enough to get to that point.

Op: Wait, sacrificed herself? Only Homura remembers her? What?

Ch: Pretty sure this was all explained in the show.

Op: Well, that’s what we get for watching this first. Should we go back and-

Everyone: No.

Op: Cool.

…

Op: Oh, freaky!

Ok: Wait, so I’m the witch now?

Ch: Could mean that in this timeline you turned into a witch before Madoka did her un-witching…thing.

Ca: That is what you looked like. Right before you became one with Charlotte, I mean.

Ch: Er…

Ok: Phrasing…

Ca: Oh, for Heaven’s sake. It is literally what happened. You turned into a witch while we were fighting Charlotte, and then the two of you fused. Then I became a witch and fused with that witch. And then Ophelia became a witch and we all fused together.

Ok: Yeah, but the way you said it…

…

H: Where’d she go?

Ok: Clumsy? You have the gall to call me clumsy? Who just saved who’s ass, just now!

H: Cut me some slack, it’s been a long evening.

Ch: Y’know you still got blood and brains all over your cheek, right?

H: I am certain that Homura does not care.

Op: I am certain that Homura is about to blow the brains out of the first punk-ass that looks at her wrong right about now.

Ok: Headshots for everybody!

H: Except Madoka.

Ok: Except Madoka. She can be the token un-brain-slushee.

G: Gee. Thanks.

Ca: I’d like to just point out that Homura came very close to turning me into a brain-slushee, but changed her mind.

Op: I doubt she’ll let you off so easy a second time.

Ch: Easy. Hey, may I remind you who won that fight?

H: You’re not going to let that go, are you?

Op: Tell yah what. Losing party treats the winners to dinner at the Tradewinds. Fair?

H: Fair.

Ch: Seriously? With the prices they have down there it’ll be cheaper just to cough up the fifty talents.

G: Yeah, but onion volcanoes!

Ch: Hard to argue with that logic.

Ok: So…on a scale of one to ten, how badly is Homura going to flip out when she realized that she’s the witch.

H: I will accept nothing less than a massacre.

Ok: Cool. Just so long as it’s not of us.

Op: I don’t know. The way this movie is going I wouldn’t be surprised if this turned into a straight-up snuff film.

[coweggomelet]

volume 5

im so sad please do funny things

i know what’s coming though so

i’ll be crying while i laugh

- i love how qrow walks he looks like he has back problems

- oooo pretty waterfall

- ruby gushing over weapons is my favorite thing

- ahahaaaa frozen background gays that’s representation babey

- oh shit he just wanted to finish the job and go home 😢

- wait are all the academy headmasters characters from the wizard of oz? like ironwood is the tin man, lionheart is the cowardly lion, oz is...oz. who’s the headmaster of shade? the scarecrow? dorothy? i am 100% sure that people have already connected these dots but that just occurred to me

- oh ilia you poor little lesbian

- ahahahaaaa qrow “i did it!”

-uggghh the new intro i need my babies to be back together

- ew watts don’t smile with your teeth like that it’s creepy

- oh yeah cinder can talk now! gimme that fun ominous banter-y dialogue pleeeaase

- floating islands babeeeyyy

- ooooh i love this pilot! he’s so nice and funny and he works well with weiss. so sad he dies in a couple minutes

- adam you are such an asshole siena was SO COOL

- AAAHHHHH he’s got dad reading glasses!! i love ghira

- i would DIE i would lay down my little life for oscar and ruby the BABIES

- fuck yeah yang!! you stand up to her!!

- WE GOT TWO OUT OF FOUR GANG TWO OUT OF FOUR

- awww hugs

- of course you’re more scared than you've ever been, oscar, you are a CHILD who worked on a farm!! it’s okay to be scared!! it’s okay to have to adjust!!

- SHE SURE IS REMARKABLE OZPIN

- uh oh ilia doesn’t wanna kill blake i smell a gay

- hehehe awkward backpedal

- ooohhh man the kid... fuck, all those people are just... gone. and we can guess what happened to them, it’s pretty obvious but we’re never told exactly what happened and it’s so sad and scary

- awkward tea time with mom

- ugh raven shut up you SUUUCK

- THREE OUT OF FOUR BABEEEYYY IM GONNA CRY

- they all love each other SO MUCH this is ILLEGAL

- yesssss arm wrestleeee

- ooooo the ticking clock is so ominous

- she’s gonna come back, yang, don't worry

- weiss i love youuuu you’ve grown so much i’m so proud!!

- oh ilia you poor thing

- oh boyyyy here we gooooo!! the fake out of the century!!

- mercury. shut up. you’re a good fighter and people underestimate you. but. you’re a kid. and there’s some real big players now. no one’s afraid of you. you’re not that scary.

- god this plan is so goddamn smart. raven wears her helmet. vernal keeps her eyes closed the whole time. so fucking clever. jesus. also?? vernal’s subtle showmanship?? amazing. great detail

- aang??!!?

- i really wanna know how oz hid the vault at beacon. there’s gotta be something about it other than he’s just old and powerful, there’s gotta be some shenanigans there

- god i love this theme it’s so good. casey really just gives it her all every time and i’m so grateful to her

- oh boy the fuckin lobby here we go

- siblings amirite

- boys and girls? really cinder? let’s be more inclusive please

- surprise y’all they’re murder teens sorry you had to find out this way

- fuck i forgot how much jaune’s lil speech hurts. he’s still just so sad and he’s breaking down a little cause he’s so good and can’t understand why or how someone could be so bad. god i love my lil sweet boy he’s breaking my heart

- qrow i think the time has passed for everybody to be cool. cinder’s already talking smack. there’s no going back buddy

- “who are you again?” CINDER ILL STAB YOU. but also… good— good line. absolutely devastating

- emerald’s like “gotta protect my mommy girlfriend”

- shut UP mercury

- siblings amirite part 2

- THATS MY BOOYYY GO OSCAARR

- ooooohhhhh this muuuussiiiicccc

- ope there’s an aura break oh FUCK weiss gets stabbed in this episode doesn’t she and JAUNEY BOY DISCOVERS HIS SEMBLANCE i love him

- AHAHAHAAAA fuck her uuuuppp ruby

- ohhhhh shit here it comes oh god oh no

- god with pyrrha’s spear too. cinder’s really got a taste for dramatics doesn’t she

- oh god and the spear dissolving like pyrrha did i CANT

- when i say i LOST MY SHIT i said no fuckin way they kill weiss right now NO FUCKIN WAY and my friend had the AUDACITY to say “just watch”???? RUDE

- oooohh GET HIM oscar

- HES DOING IT MY SWEET BOY I LOVE YOUUU

- ohhh the tree of knowledge! i just got that

- there’s the grimm elastigirl arm

- SIKE CINDER THERES NO POWER TO TAKE FROM HER YOU JUST KILLED HER FOR NO REASON

- GOD WHAT A REVEAL

- again i lost my shit

- the amount of times i lost my shit and my friend had to tell me to be quiet was… a Lot

- NORRAAAA I LOVE YOUUUU

- oh hazel. can’t wait for your Growth

- THERE SHE IIISSS MY GIRL WHAT AN ENTRANCE BLAKE

- uh oh hazel is disheveled that means he’s unhinged

- oh FUCK yeah blake you’ve LEARNED i’m so proud of all my babieeesss

- WEISS what a power stance!

- THE LOOK they’re so GAY

- ooooo i love this fight it’s maiden vs maiden babey

- poor vernal. she spent the last moment of her life helping a woman who probably manipulated her and used her, and she helped her try to kill someone who didn’t even end up dying. vernal deserved better

- OH HERE WE GO RAVEN ITS YOUR DAUGHTER BITCH AND SHES HAD GROWTH

- oooo get him blake

- ooof the shoulder check. raven she fuckin nailed you on the head and did not hold back and knew EXACTLY what to say and you did EXACTLY what she said you were gonna do— run away. she is SO MUCH better than you and you will never recognize that and that is so heartbreaking

- uh oh the clicky orb thing. you’re gonna die lionheart

- oh emerald my baby. she relied on cinder so much, was so dependent on her, that she was powerful enough to make that in like 8 brains at once. that’s grief babey

- it took them. TWO WHOLE VOLUMES. to all get back together. this is illegal. and also i’m crying

- this is not ALLOWED they can’t look at each other like that my heart can’t take it

- awww qrow’s default really is just taking care of kids. good guy

- i’m always so exhausted at the end of a volume

[savagewildnerness]

OK, let's GO!

So - I MADE A SCORE and there is is!!

But in words... first of all, I’ll answer the question that was asked!

Here’s the bit the OP asked about:

As you see from this image, there’s no getting around it… this analysis is going to be musical.  To me, it is daft and basic and I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I can imagine if you don’t read music it’s a bit like I’m talking to you in a random language, so I’m going to try to explain what I can in non-notation ways too & if I lose you, I do apologise.  Before I get into notes and keys and chords and the like, let’s start with an unusual thing about Long Face that the OP might have noticed that isn’t to do with key…. It’s the tempo.  As you can see, I transcribed it in 12 8, but it could easily be transcribed in 4, and it’s easier to talk about as being in 4… (Without getting into the technicalities, 12 8 is also in 4..!  And 18 8 is in 6!  You can see by the number of notes in each bar in the bass guitar line.) 

So, if we consider it as being in 4, every time the vocals stop and you get a NER NER NER NER NER NER bit (the bit the OP is talking about), the song goes into 6 in a bar instead of 4… only ever for one bar.  But that’s going to throw you because it’s like 1 2 3 4 - 1 2 3 4 - 1 2 3 4 - 1 2 3 4 - 1 2 3 4 - 1 2 3 4 5 6 - 1 2 3 4 etc. so you’re expecting another 1 2 3 4 and instead you are thrown by the tempo alteration!  There’s the first reason these bits sound weird/unusual.  You can see it in the image by looking at the notes in the bass guitar part image here - 6 and then back to 4.

Next, the bass note is E and the E (a continuous note that carries on and on in music can be called a pedal, so we can call it a pedal E) continues through almost the entire song… BUT in the bars in 6, the note moves to D.  In the keys of E major and E harmonic minor (the keys you’d most expect to have E as the root note), you’d have a D sharp, not a D - so it’s a flattened seventh note, which again to our ears, used to Western scales, will sound potentially unusual (or, I would say - fantastic!  YUM!)  It’s so interesting that the OP heard it as discordant in terms of chords, because a lot of the song only has bass and there are only really chords (as far as I can hear!) In the “Fuuuuuun fuuuuuuuuuuun” bits in the chorus.  However, the OP is 100% correct, it will still sound discordant, because the D natural instead of a D sharp is an unexpected note to our brains so your mind might be trying to pull towards either the D sharp or towards the tonic, E which is why you’ll feel that “Ooooh, it’s crunchy and discordant and weird!” in your insides!

So I think that’s the answer to the OP’s question as to why those bits sound discordant!  I hope that makes kind of sense?

BUT, did I stop there?  OH NO I DID NOT!

Now, I just want to caveat that I do not consider myself a musician and neither do I have a useable piano at home!  So please take all this with a salt mine worth of salt. But once I have begun, I am all in!  Also, I do use music in my work (predominantly via means of singing “CRASH!” When folk bash cymbals and three-year-olds using my hand as an extension of their own to play glissandi on the piano until I begin to wonder if said 3-year-old might crack my bones, my fingers have glissandi-ed so much is the truth of it, hahaha…. You think I exaggerate… but I do not!  Sometimes a violin gets thrown to the other side of the room too.  It’s all fun and games! Hehe!) but I absolutely do not use music as a performer or in any way using or analysing or thinking about written music!!  Or in being personally creative in any way.  I didn’t do a music degree or anything.  So… that said… this is only what I can ascertain, as a non-musician who plays to a basic level and did music in school!

I *think* (and it is very much THINK!  I am not sure!) Long Face is pretty much in (or at least based around) an E Dorian mode scale: 

Notes:

E Dorian scale: E F# G A B C# D

You can compare this to 

E major: E F# G# A B C# D#

&

E harmonic minor: E F# G A B C D#

E blues: E F# G G# B C#

As you can see, E major and minor both have D# in and Long Face does not (well, it does occasionally - it’s a rock song and it has jazzy/rocky/bluesy notes, especially in the guitar part… but it doesn’t most of the time.)

You can read about the Dorian Mode and some other songs and pieces that use it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dorian_mode

Here’s a wee quote about the Dorian mode and rock music - “Because of its melancholic-yet-somehow-upbeat mood, the Dorian scale is most often spotted in its natural habitat: jazz and blues music. However, it’s certainly not limited to these genres, and is often featured in pop, rock, and metal music to add interest.” - Source - https://www.musical-u.com/learn/get-familiar-with-the-dorian-mode/ (I bet it isn’t even in the Dorian mode now… I cry!!  But I’m going to continue as if it is!)

So, it has the key equivalent to D major/B minor, but the tonic is clearly E because basically, as stated before, there is an E pedal bass note through nearly the entire song, apart from when it switches to that flattened 7th D and it ends in E… and the chorus resolves (when it resolves) to E major too.

Chords in E Dorian:

I    E   G B - E minor

II  F# A C# - F# minor

III G  B  D - G major

IV A  C# E - A major

V  B  D   F# - B minor

VI C  E    G - C major

VII D F# A - D major

I say pretty much in the Dorian Mode, because while it keeps its flattened 7th, it sometimes has a G sharp, not *always* its flattened third…. And sometimes it has C naturals (a flattened 6th, like E minor) and basically it’s a bit blues and a bit jazz and the fuuuunnnnnnn bit (the main bit with chords!) is a lot more E major, whereas the effect of the dorian scale mainly is a minor vibe because the root (I) and fifth chord (V) (and chord II too) are minor and I & V are the anchoring chords in a key, sooooooooo……. HOWEVER, in Long Face, when it resolves to an actual chord for the root during the chorus, it does resolve to the major chord instead of the minor, with a G sharp!  He’s having fun, folks!  It’s not gonna be a minor chord, is it!!?!

Anyway… let’s look at the bits with chords first:

Oh MY… I’m out of my depth…. Let’s have another picture! Here’s a bit of the second chorus: 

I think the chorus chord progression on “Fuuuuun, fuuuuuuun” is:

VI-III-V-IV-(I) - it resolves on the first funs and not on the second funs…

I found online… ““Sad” progression: vi-iii-V-IV”…. but that’s because in a major key, chord III and chord VI are minor chords.  However, in the dorian mode, they’re both major chords, and thus the progression is mainly happy.  It’s all major apart from chord V.

Chords of the "Fuuuuun, Fuuuuunnnnn" bit:

VI (C E G - C major)

III (G B D - G major - actually this is mainly just G & B so in that sense it could be chord III or chord I… one time it has a D in there too and it just doesn’t feel like chord I to me, probably because the chorus actually resolves to a major chord I, not a minor chord I….?)

V (B D F# - B minor)

IV (A C# E - A major)

I (E G# B - E major)

Each chorus has two “Now we’re having fun, fun” phrases in it and the first time it resolves to chord I at the end, but the second time it stays on chord IV and doesn’t resolve till the BASS enters on the root E.

Right!  Why else can I say?  So I have kind of transcribed the song as best I can… which isn’t very well - partly as, as I say I have no piano so if I can’t just hear what the note I am hearing is I have to literally try to sing it like a crazy person (like a crazy child, with my stupid childish voice)…. And I do not have the vocal range of either Sam Reid or a bass guitar, hahaha (actually the bass is easy as it’s just E’s!!!) And Sam does a lot of kind of sing-speaking too so it isn’t all obviously pitched.  Considering how classical the vocal style in Come to Me, I have to say I am so impressed with how Sam sings Long Face!  How do you learn to sing in that rock style when that’s not what you *do*?!  It’s amazing to me! So, to say the vocal line isn’t super-accurate…. Then, I have no idea what drum I’m listening to in a drum kit and I’ve basically just tried to give a general impression of the drum part…. And then what made me laugh most of all was trying to transcribe the guitar part - this dirty, delicious guitar and I’m trying to transcribe the thing on twinkly midi and it was hilarious.

Anyway, it isn’t entirely accurate as it’s actually way harder to transcribe than a classical piece, where notes are clearer as long as you can hear them.  But it’s something *along the lines*…. I also am not sure if I’ve even invented some wee phantom ghost-bass part near the end that isn’t even there?!

There are backing vocals just in the “Fuuuuun, fuuuuun” part.

What else can I say?  I can only really analyse it musically as obviously it doesn’t have any S3 to relate it to yet.  And other people have had a lot of fun already, thinking about the words!  But anyway, I’ll also share the wee score I did, which I have annotated!

I thank you!  I bet you didn’t think it was possible to be quite this geeky about Long Face… but BEWARE - all you have to do is ask one random little question to The Ether - not even to me and I will go all in with my daft, likely all wrong THESIS.  But the nice thing is… now I REALLY know Long Face….. Oh YEAH! (Oh!)

(No copyright infringement intended in my probably all incorrect transcription, with deepest apologies to Daniel Hart!!!)

And again... if this is impenetrable... sorry...! Maybe there's something interesting in it???

And obviously if there’s any musical or music-related thing you want to ask about Long Face now… I have the score (to some extent at least!) & I listened lots of times to make it, so ask away & if I can answer, I will! Or I’ll try my best at least!

Anyone know the chord progression of Long Face?

Or at least what chord is played repeatedly between stanzas. (such as between the lines "That doesn't phase me" and "I'm an actor").

I dunno the whole thing (but especially that chord) feels more discordant than you usually get in rock songs? Like, more consistently discordant. Like it doesn't resolve into a major chord as quickly as usual?

I don't know tho. I'm not a musician here so I'm not sure.

Anyone know?

[syntheticpoetry]

Constellations

Summary: When the text comes in from Tina, Kurt can hardly believe what he is reading. When Blaine doesn't respond to his messages he thinks his heart may actually stop beating. AO3 link || FFN Link

Author’s Note: I was watching Shooting Star and overcome with a million emotions, mostly having to do with the fact that we don't get ANY conversation or scene with the NYC gang during this insanely emotional episode. So this is my take on it. A little bit of canon, but a little divergence for the Klaine scene I desperately wanted to see as well as Kurt, Santana, and Rachel’s reactions. I promise there is a happy ending in this through the rollercoaster of emotions that is Blaine's mind during this absolutely horrifying ordeal. Big thanks to @roxymusicandlayers for beta reading this for me!

“And I am lost, so lost, but you’re the constellations that guide me.”

_________________________________________________________

“Alright guys, start texting and tweeting, whatever social media you use.  Let everyone know what’s going on here.  But don’t say where we are, shooters have smartphones too.” 

Blaine hears Mr. Schue’s urgent whisper as though he is underwater.  The words sound muffled and heavy with the depth of the room’s collective terror embedded into every upturned syllable.  Despite his best effort to keep the hysteria at bay, they know he is just as frightened as they are.  Blaine bites his lip and remains so still that every muscle starts to quiver, threatening to give way.  The burn feels familiar, like the ache he gets from lifting weights in the gym with Sam, and he pushes through the pain as though it is just one more rep away before they can finally rest.  

Any slight movement will betray his feigned composure and he knows the domino effect of his breakdown will begin.  Around him the gentle, frantic padding of fingers against glass echoes around the room like a discordant symphony of additional gunshots.  He knows they are not as loud as they actually sound in his head.  But the panic in his chest still swells.  He hugs his knees tighter.  The small movement is enough to send the first wave of tears down his cheeks.  He bites his lip harder and tries to focus on the pain of teeth against flesh instead. 

‘I should do what they’re doing.  Pick up your phone.  Keep it together.’

“Blaine, it’s okay.  It’s going to be okay,” Sam reaches a hand out and the touch of his fingers against Blaine’s forearm sends thunderbolts up his spine.  “Where’s your phone?” 

Blaine opens his mouth to speak and instead gasps loudly, the breath shuddering on the sharp intake of air.  He claps a hand over his mouth and squints his eyes shut as more tears come.  His mistake was moving at all.  Statues never cry.  He stretches out one leg and wrenches the phone from his pocket to see it at 1% battery.  With one hand pressed firmly against quivering lips, the muffled whisper comes convulsing out in staccato bursts.   “It’s— it’s almost— d-d—” 

He can’t bring himself to say the word dead.  As though breathing life into it will somehow fulfill some unspoken prophecy, and he is bound to doom them all by simply uttering it.  Sam squeezes his arm and whispers back, “Do you want to text anyone with my phone?” 

Blaine nods frantically when his phone screen finally turns to black.  He gingerly places it on the ground in what feels like slow motion, taking extreme care not to make a sound, and extends his hand out to Sam.  He thinks back to Mr. Schue’s garbled words and wonders if they really are underwater.  

“I can’t get in touch with my mom,” The subdued sound of Marley’s panicked sobbing ricochets off of the walls. “She won’t respond!  What if she— there’s no back way out of the kitchen!” 

While Kitty and Jacob whisper empty reassurances Blaine stares at Sam’s phone in his hand like it is a foreign object.  He knows what he is supposed to do with it, but the phone numbers in his mind are written in invisible ink.  

‘I can’t even remember my parents’ phone numbers.  Oh god, what if we die in here.  What if I never see them or Cooper or Kurt—”

A flash of hands clasped tight, buried deep into a mattress fills his vision.  The breathy whisper of his own name makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  His trembling thumbs begin to fly seamlessly over the keypad and he has never been so thankful for autocorrect before.  Just as he hits send the dull pounding sound of running footsteps in the hall crescendos until—

Rattle! Rattle! Rattle!

The jittering of the door handle makes them all collectively jump as though this is just another lesson in synchronisation for their next competition.  Blaine’s heart slithers its way into his throat, and he drops the phone.  It slides away from him and bumps into Sam’s ankle.  Sam’s leg jerks and sends it careening across the floor of the choir room where it settles underneath the piano.  The entire scene is something straight out of a shitty comedy movie that feels completely unbelievable, like the chances of something like this happening are one in a million.  The irony of the realm of impossibilies reaching its peak today is not lost on him.  The entire room stills.  Blaine wishes that stupid ticking of the metronome in the center of the room would. Just. Stop.  It feels like a countdown.  

Smash!

Blaine jumps again and presses his hand harder to his mouth to suppress the sound that begs for escape.  He hugs his knees closer to his chest in a one-armed embrace and tries to will the demon perched on his shoulder whispering unpleasantries to vanish.   The burn settles in again.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Artie struggling to sit himself up against the cabinets.  He wants to move, wants to help him; but when he tries to unhook his arm from his knees, nothing happens.  He continues spectating as Sam begins lifting Artie up by his shirt until he’s sitting comfortably upright.  Then he witnesses the moment of pure panic in his best friend’s eyes right before Sam hisses frantically to Mr. Schue, “Brittany doesn’t have her phone, she’s in the bathroom! She’s all alone!” 

___________________________________________________

“Oh honey, no goddamn way!” Kurt snatches the remote back from Rachel.  “Santana and I were here first, you don’t just get to come in and throw a hissy fit about having a bad day so you can put on whatever you want.  How do you know we didn’t have a bad day too?” 

Santana averts her attention from the television to watch them instead, positively beaming.  Their fights are honestly her favourite thing to watch.  Always far more entertaining than whatever trashy reality shows she and Kurt had been immersing themselves in lately.  Today it had been a marathon of the first season of Rock of Love. 

“Well, considering you’re both in the exact same spot I left you in this morning I seriously doubt it,” Rachel huffs loudly and sinks down into a creaky wicker chair, arms folded tightly across her chest.  Kurt rolls his eyes at her and changes the channel back before the gentle buzzing of his phone across the coffee table distracts him from Rachel’s moodiness. 

“Go make some popcorn and I’ll let you vent— oh,” Kurt stares down at his phone.  

“What?” Rachel lowers her arms, keeping them folded across her stomach still, and exchanges her scowl for curiosity. 

“Sam texted me, he usually never…” The rest of his sentence trails off once he opens the message, leaving them to stare.  He loosens his grip and drops his hands against his thighs, the phone resting precariously on his open palms.  After the fourth quick scan of the text the message still does not seem to sink in. 

Sam 12:36 p.m. I love you so much and I’m so sorry about everything that happened I’m so glad I got to see you at the wedding you’re amazing and deserve everything in the world I’m so proud of you don’t ever settle for anyone less than perfect because that’s exactly what you are 

‘This can’t be for me.’

“Kurt, what is it? What’s wrong?” Rachel leans over, her palms on her knees now, her brows furrowed in concern. 

“What’s Trouty mouth saying?” Santana snatches the phone from him.  He does not even protest her invasion of privacy, his brain is too busy slicing through the fog to decrypt the reasoning behind the message.  She frowns and looks between the screen and Kurt a few times.  “Did I miss the part when you and Sam got together? No way my gaydar is that far off.”

“There’s no way that’s for me.  He obviously meant to send it to someone else.  Do you think he meant it for Mercedes?” Kurt plucks the phone back from her hands to reread the message before typing out a reply. 

Kurt 12:44 p.m. I don’t think you meant this for me? 

“What did it say?” Rachel pipes up and cranes her neck to try to read over Kurt’s shoulder.  Kurt tilts the phone to show her.  “Ooooh, wait did something happen between them at the wedding? Wasn’t he there with Brittany then though?” Kurt shrugs and scrolls through his contacts until he lands on Mercedes’ name. 

Kurt 12:50 p.m. Okay maybe random question but is there something going on with you and Sam again? I got the weirdest message from him just now 

Mercedes 12:55 p.m. ???? What did he say? 

Kurt takes a screenshot of the message and forwards it to her. 

Mercedes 1:00 p.m. Omg nope nothing happened with us at the wedding.  Maybe he meant to send it to Brittany? Has he not replied? 

Kurt 1:02 p.m. Nope

Tina’s name flashes across the top of his screen in a drop down banner and he taps on it.  “Oh my god.”  The words come out small and frightened as he reads the message.  “Tina just said—”

“She just texted me too,” Santana replies in an eerily despondent voice that Kurt has never heard her speak in before.  It suddenly makes the situation feel ten times more real.  For once, she’s silent as she stares down at her own phone, frantically typing out a text.

“Me too,” Rachel whispers.  “Oh my god, do you think everyone is okay?” She stands and crosses the room, pacing by the window as she rereads the text over and over again.  “Kurt, have you heard from Blaine?”

‘Blaine.’

Kurt cannot find the words to respond to her as he taps on his favourites list.  Blaine’s name is still at the very top.  He had told himself he had never gotten the chance to adjust the list and remove him after their breakup.  Really, he never had the heart to erase his name.  The sight of it now makes his throat constrict.  He tries to speak but no sound comes out.  

“Brittany isn’t texting me back.  Neither is Sam,” Santana borders on hysterical as she grips her phone between her hands like it is her only lifeline.  Kurt mimics her action as he composes a text to Blaine. 

Kurt 1:10 p.m. Tina texted me are you ok

“Has anyone heard anything from anyone else?” Rachel asks.  Neither of them respond. 

Kurt cannot look away from Blaine’s name.  The feeling washes over him suddenly and intensely, dragging his logical mind into the riptide of superstitious terror as he recites the name silently like a mantra.  If he looks away, he might lose him forever.  It doesn’t make any sense to think that way.  He knows it.  But it provides some tiny semblance of comfort and control as he tethers himself to it and waits for a response.  Two long minutes pass by and still nothing comes. Tina’s name and phone number fills the screen, swallowing Blaine’s name, and he finally finds his voice, the words frantic and choppy as he taps multiple times to decline the call, “Someone call Tina, she’s calling me.  Someone call her so she stops calling me!” 

The sight of Blaine’s name again anchors him down once more and the rest becomes background noise. 

'Please be okay.  Please be okay.  I’m never saying goodbye to you, you idiot.  Just text me back.  Please.’

__________________________________________________________

“Mr. Schue, I have to get to her! I have to make sure she’s okay!” 

Blaine watches, horrorstuck, as Mr. Shue and coach Beiste struggle to restrain Sam.  He is thrashing wildly in their arms, his quivering voice crescendoing past the panicked whispers that everyone else has adapted.  It isn’t until coach Beiste whispers something in his ear that Blaine cannot hear, and Sam locks eyes with him that he finally settles down.  Blaine exhales sharply, lungs blazing and heart thudding at the base of his throat, and realizes he must have been holding his breath at some point.  Sam slinks back over to their corner and sits beside Artie, his head hanging down in defeat.  Blaine tries to parrot back the same empty promises Sam had whispered earlier, wants to tell him everything will be okay even though he is not quite sure if he believes it himself, but nothing comes out.  

“Maybe she’s with Tina,” Artie whispers hopefully to Sam.  “Maybe she isn’t alone.”

Blaine takes note of Artie’s lack of confidence and how he is careful not to speak in absolutes.  But maybe he is right.  He thinks about the word maybe in the context of his life.  Maybe Kurt did not want to admit how much their hookup at the wedding had meant.  Maybe he and Kurt really are back together.  Maybe Kurt still loves him.  Maybe he will see him again when this entire ordeal is finally over with.  ‘Maybe’ starts to feel like a pretty good word the more he thinks about it.  ‘Maybe’ feels like hope.  ‘Maybe’ feels like a second chance.  

The sound of a door opening breaks through Blaine’s inner dissection of the word, and he looks over just in time to see Mr. Schue skulking out of the door.  It reminds Blaine of one of Finn’s video games about spies and stealth.  Maybe they will get another chance to play it together after this.  He clings to that and tries to focus on the upcoming Friday night dinner with him, Burt and Carole as Marley’s sobbing continues to grow louder.  Her gasps for air further enforces his previous belief.  Maybe they really are underwater. 

It isn’t long before the choir room door opens again and a collection of cheerleaders rushes in followed by Mr. Schue.  Blaine watches Sam vault off of the cabinets like a spring loaded toy to pull Brittany into his arms.  She has never looked so terrified before.  But there is no sign of Tina amongst the red and white uniforms.  Blaine forgets about the maybe’s floating around his brain like buoys at sea and feels like he is drowning again.  He twists his head away and stares down pathetically at the blank screen of his cellphone, willing it to magically come alive.  

‘How could I have forgotten to charge it? I used to lecture Kurt about this all the time.’

Maybe it is a sign.  Maybe it is a metaphor of sorts.

He does not know when Artie began recording them with his phone, but the start of Marley’s hiccuped confession fills his lungs with water again.  “In the bottom of my desk drawer,” She breaks off to compose herself.  The volume of her crying sends off alarm bells in Blaine’s head and he tunes out the rest of her message.  He looks towards the hastily strewn barricade against the door.  Maybe it will prove to be sturdy, but it does not feel like enough.  The continued tapping of fingers against glass screens fills in the gaps of silence between the metronome and scattered crying when Artie pans the camera onto Blaine.  It feels like a slow dance towards a death sentence.  Maybe the rhythmic ticking really is a countdown. 

“Blaine, do you want to say anything to anyone?” 

He drops his face down into his knees.  Maybe he should take the opportunity to leave behind one tiny fragment of his life before he becomes another forgotten statistic.  But Artie has already redirected the phone towards Sam and Brittany when Blaine looks up again.  Maybe he has missed his chance.  ‘Maybe’ starts to feel like a cursed word now.  Like something sinister and evil and concrete.  Maybe he has inflated the word with too much hope causing some sort of rebound effect.  Maybe—

“All clear!” 

The words break through the hurricane in the choir room and suddenly everyone is getting to their feet except Blaine, who still feels sluggish and dazed.  Sam and Brittany approach him and hold out their hands.  He stares at their open palms, trembling and sweaty, and his body acts before his brain does to grasp them.  They lift him up like he is made of helium despite the lead shackles he envisions around his ankles.  He becomes aware of Sam’s arms around him and shakes away the anchors in his own arms to return the embrace.  The burn is still there, leaving his muscles fatigued and weak, but he cannot bring himself to let go now that he has latched on.  

“It’s okay, it’s okay.  See? We’re okay,” Sam whispers against his ear before Blaine realizes why he is taking such extra care to console him.  The sound of his own sobbing, punctuated by rattling intakes of air, reminds him why he tried to remain so still at the start of all of this.  He buries his face deep in Sam’s neck to muffle the sound and feels the addition of Brittany’s slender arms around both of them, leaving him sandwiched in between.  The shuffling sound of footsteps towards the door leads to the eventual end of the embrace and Sam jogs over to the piano, crouching down to retrieve his phone before they join hands and follow everyone else on the way to the parking lot.  

“Blaine, I have a charger in my car.” Sam says as he raises his phone to his ear.  Brittany slips her hand away from Blaine and he hears her whimpering Santana’s name before seeing she has also pulled out her phone.  Blaine laces his fingers with Sam and clings tightly as they weave their way through the crowd towards Sam’s car.  “Mom, hey I’m okay.  We’re okay.  We’re outside now— please don’t cry, I promise I’m okay.” 

When Sam finally pulls his hand free, Blaine thinks he might just float away.  It takes Sam only a few seconds to wrench open the car door and jam his key into the ignition.  “Blaine, here— Wait, Kurt’s calling my phone.  Mom, let me take this, and I’ll call you right back? Blaine’s phone died, he has no way to— yes, I’ll be right home as soon as I can.  I love you too.” 

Blaine’s fingers are numb by the time Sam has pressed the phone into his hand.  Kurt’s frantic, breathless voice breathes life into them, and he curls them tightly around the device just before it is about to fall.  “Sam! Brittany called Santana and said you guys made it out.  I can’t get in touch with Blaine, is he—”

“It’s me,” Blaine exhales and the volume of Kurt’s sob makes his knees shake.  He leans against the car door but slides down it as Kurt continues to cry loudly in his ear.  

“Why weren’t you answering me?” Kurt sputters out, his voice traversing the length of his entire vocal range like a warmup. 

“My phone died, that’s why I texted you with Sam’s—”

“You didn’t say it was you!” Kurt’s voice rises three octaves.  Blaine presses the phone closer to his ear like it will actually close any of the distance between them.  “I thought it was a mistake! I thought it was Sam! Why didn’t either of you get back to me on— Blaine, are you crying or laughing?” 

“Both, I think,” Blaine responds airily between watery laughter.  In the timespan of less than two hours he feels as though he has mastered every element associated with human emotion.  The fire in his lungs has been reduced to embers as Kurt’s voice continues to blanket him.  The laughter should feel inappropriate, but it feels like letting go.  It feels like a release.  He finally feels grounded.  “The stupid phone— it was insane— I dropped it and Sam kicked it under the piano— if you saw it— I’m sorry, I don’t know why I can’t stop laughing, but it just feels so good to hear your voice again.  I thought I was never going to hear it again or see you or—”

“Don’t you ever, ever, write a message to me like that again!” Kurt interrupts his rambling and suddenly the laughter becomes lodged in his throat.  Maybe he had been wrong to assume all of those ideas about them earlier.  Maybe Kurt’s next few words will feel like an actual gunshot wound.  

“Kurt, I’m sorry, I thought—”

“I told you I’m never saying goodbye to you,” Kurt parades through his apology, trying to sound bold and certain.  Blaine can see the hairline cracks in the foundation as Kurt wavers through the next command.  “Don’t you ever try to say goodbye to me like that again, do you understand me?” 

“Understood,” He replies with the remnants of his previous laughter, the solitary sound coming out strangled and relieved all at once.  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You’re sorry you—” The way he says it sends shivers down Blaine’s spine.  It is the same breathy exhale that had been reserved for their night in the hotel as their hands sank deeper and deeper into the mattress.  “Blaine, you must have been fucking terrified, how can you focus on me?” 

“Because I love you,” Blaine says simply.  For once there is no anxiety or fear to cage the confession.  It flies freely over the soundwaves and he does not worry about the reply because he already knows the response without Kurt having to say it.  But Kurt says it anyways. 

“I love you too.” 

‘Maybe’ starts to feel like a second chance again.  ‘Maybe’ feels like a promise. 

[lordxgrinnyxboy]

watching london tgm! pt 2!

they actually carry clarence in in his coffin????

Kupsak sounds Different

OOOOOOOOOOH THAT WAS OSRIC’S VOICE THAT DID THE “Will our land at last be free” LIKE THE LINGERING ECHOES OF THE TRELAW SPIRIT. NICE.

the voice he used leaves me with no doubt he could’ve been another amazing Gwynplaine.

“Get out” WAS OSRIC LITERALLY THERE DID OSRIC STRAIGHT UP GO BUST A FUNERAL

 OOOOH IT’S THE TRELAW REBELLION NOW. SPECIFICALLY THE TRELAW REBELLION. THE REBELLION BELONGING TO TRELAW.

for just a second i was living in a world without Barkilphedro but there he is, man, there he is. i was surprised to see him.

ooooh. oooooh “Angelica has not emerged from her chambers for almost exactly 20 years, during which time, she has not uttered a single word” WHAT?

DON’T SEND SPIKE TO GO GET HER WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU

off topic but getting back to the previous post if the “father she’ll never see” was part of the inscription and Ursus gave it to her then he’d know about it so it can’t be that did the MOM get her a necklace that said she’d never see her father??? was the mom like “ope we gotta pack up and sail away without your dad but lemme get you a cool trinket first” or was there no inscription and Ursus is just assuming that it was the dad who gave her the necklace but it was actually the mom and the mom got a necklace for Dea without telling Ursus but hold up aren’t they poor? wouldn’t somebody have known? do they have separate bank accounts? did the mom say “well I got our unborn child a present but it’s a surprise you’ll find out later” why a necklace that says “dea”? did the mom name her without consulting Ursus? how’d she know wh-? was she going to name the baby ‘Goddess’ regardless of gender? (valid?) was she asking a goddess to protect the baby??? did she have the baby, immediately go get her a little trinket, and then freeze to death? was ‘Dea’ a deliberate move or was it just the last name trinket in the shop? Were all the  “Makynzeiye” necklaces taken? I Have Questions About This Necklace

anyway

the other version always makes me feel almost like Barkilphedro murdered the king himself. i don’t get that so much in this one but i do get the impression he Knows What He’s Doing with this speech and is Doing It On Purpose. Having A Good Time, as it were.

angelica????

oh my

“SWWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE” uhm

b-bird noises?

ooh she’s actually. calling out the corruption of her father. good girl angelica.

“I will make this country great again” did they. have. to say that. did they have to. was it necessary. why make me think about that man. why do that to me. london has no rights u-u

wHAT we’re back in the cart? No JoJo?

london gets rights for the fact that Gwyn’s crouching. that is a very good crouch sir, perfect.

“with mojo and father...GAH” oh gwyn :(

that hit him so hard so sudden like :(

FIDDLIN WITH THE BANDAGES IS CANOOOOON IT’S CANOOOOOOOON I AM VALID! I’M VALID! I KNEW IT! I THOUGHT SO! YES. YES. WOOHOO

gwyn your arm

the drama of that dismount. the delicate self-yeet. incredible.

WHY IN HEAVEN’S NAME IS YOUR SHIRT TUCKED IN YOU STOP THAT THIS INSTANT

“please help me find” gwyn what is she supposed to do, google it?

CROUCH

oh here we go

that was terrifying jojo

jojo that was terrifying

the dance is. worse.

pleeeease no please no please no pl

where did she get that

i am scared for my life rn

JOJO STOP

ohhh i’m dreading Brand New World. can’t believe i’m gonna have to watch Gwynplaine Trelaw literally be killed for sport. she’s gonna snap him like a twig 😭 

JOJO I AM BEGGING YOU TO PUT THAT DOWN

i am so scared of this jojo i am so

oh JOJO’S gonna offer to make the scuttling dream a reality???

book canon right there

😱😬😭

in this one she literally warns david personally to his face he’s got no excuse let’s go david wygd

but sure let’s go to the fair

i don’t hate this david but he’s like the mellow, zero-energy edition.

he bouncin

he’s turned into a starfish???

i hate Bristol!Jojo’s costume so bad but dang if i haven’t gotten used to it and now this one’s a little weird

i’m not strong enough tbh

dirry-moir just crouched and i’m gonna have to sue for copywrighte on gwynplaine’s behalf. i’ve apparently lost my ability to spell

idk man these people are just incredibly scary

oh thank goodness that part’s over

london!gwyn looks like a hobbit that’s been stretched out. like a screenshot of Mr. Elijah Wood in Unexpected Journey, but it’s been pasted into MS Paint and then stretched out a bit and then squished down and stretched out again and somehow pasted back into the movie.

i am genuinely so grateful we get another cart scene. i need time to recover from never seen a face.

the dynamic feels different in this version

awww the shoulder pat :3

this Gwyn is a whole other person. he’s both Calmer and More Wound Up. at the same time.

😭 he just 😭 literally choked 😭 i can’t 😭 he just fell right over 😭 wilted like a flower 😭 howm i supposed to cope with this 😭 

Don’t pat him so hard Ursus for pity’s sake DX

aw we’re not doing Born Broken in front of an audience this time? rights are evaporating.

is Gwyn even alive rn i think he straight up died

did he take the medicine yet?

Ursus are u touching his face?

HE’S HAVING A WHOLE SEIZURE

What Was That Move

i have lost my ability to exhale

i think Gwyn’s doing a physical impersonation of a fish being mercilessly dragged from a lake by a grappling hook thrown from a moving speedboat

i do like how Ursus crouches down to their level while they’re on the ground

love how Mojo looks over like “are y’all seeing this”

LOOK AT THE SMILE OF YOUR MOTHERL

THAT’S WHY URSUS FREAKIN SNAPS

Ursus is holding Gwyn by the wrist and just shaking his arm as punctuation like “I CANT tell you ANYthing you DON’t already KNOW” URSUS STOP

GWYN TRIED TO PULL AWAY AND URSUS YANKED GWYN’S ARM

URSUS YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS

i mean i always thought the near hysteria was valid and acceptable but you know what Gwyn is MORE than allowed the “NOOO NOT TODAY” line. he can HAVE IT. understandable. he did nothing wrong.

someone’s drinking a beer

i’m sorry but the way he just climbed through that curtain was hilarious

it’s too calm. mr. maskell you’ve got three seconds to lose your damn mind and go absolutely OFF

BOING BOING BOING BOING BOING

CLAP

twinge

this one doesn’t have enough hysteria but it gets points for being even more boneless

lost an elbow again

here we go his brain’s going AGSHAFUIABNAVSBKJAG AGFYAIAFIguAI here we go it’s happening i can see the sparks

MR MASKELL PLEASE

GWYN YOUR ARMS

YOUR SPIN GWYN

that right there was what medical professionals commonly diagnose as a Religious Experience.

his pantlegs are even shorter in this version

OH HE JUST YANKS THE BANDAID RIGHT OFF.

jojo please

hangon i gotta go back and see him in Zero Bones mode one more time that was actually so personal

i must say that rewind was Flawless. without even looking i took it back exactly to him coming through the curtain. at myself goodjob man

i would like to formally apologize to myself for just having the “talent show au” thought. stop that.

WIGGLY FINGERS ON “WALKS IN THE NIGHT”

can’t believe i’m in love with an overcooked linguini noodle

he is So Floppy it genuinely hurts to even look at and honestly i love that for me. I’m living. i’m about to watch this scene a third time in a row see if i don’t

it really is a little low on the sheer manic vibe but at the same time it kinda has the energy of if you climbed into the washing machine or maybe dryer while the appliance is on? or if you got in the washing machine but you brought a toaster with you. and threw your phone in separate.

another perfect rewind let’s go I’M THE STUUUUUUUFF OF YOUR NIGHTMARES WAS I

his voice sounds like it’s coming from a vintage record player and it’s definitely in black and white with a smattering of static and just a slight flavor of tin and honestly i love that for me

Gwyn’s literally one of those old door stoppers you know like the little stick on the bottom of the door and sometimes you pull it all the way to one side and then let go and it’s like FWOBBLEFWOBBLEFWOBBLE and you’re like “OOOOOOH”

JEAN VALJEAN

ARMS UPPPPPPPP GO BACK AND BOIIIIIIIIIIING

LOVE that dude. Amazing.

did he just spit actually? he physically can’t? at least traditionally?

steppy leggies!

one more time and then i’ll move on. just one more.

rewound too far i’m now back at “Ursus If You Don’t Let Go Of That Boy’s Wrist”

come on through that curtain Gwynlit i am Ready for You.

I’M THE STUUUUUUFFFFF OF YOUR NIGHTM

i want this played at my funeral and i want mr. maskell to be there to dance to it

so i guess in this version his limbs just short-circuit at different times huh because i mean genuinely for real his elbows just seem to nope out every now and then

this right here is what mr. hugo meant when he said, if not in as many words, that you were a ten.

ARRRMMMS UP! ANNNND BAAAAAAACK AND

B O U N C E

he has the x factor

love how he just shuffles back through the curtain like that one gif of the yellow dude being absorbed into the bushes

JOJO I LOVE YOUR DRESS WHAT

Dirry-Moir’s voice is nice even if it’s Very Different

fr jojo that’s actually kinda cute

Osric my dear i Love You

and now they’re all dirilious

dilirius

dilirious

dileros

d e l i r i o u s ?

that

Dea and Gwyn just dropped out of the sky

awww mojo came to check on him

Mojo’s nudging at Gwyn’s arm and Gwyn’s Not Having It

Ursus you’re banned from touching him i am Mad At You

Gwyn’s having another attack in this version it is constantly happening. has this boy sipped any sauce yet?

he just stood up and now he’s like

HE’S DOING HAND FLAPS HE’S GOT FLAPPY HANDS HE’S ACTUALLY. WHAT. FLAP FLAP FLAP I LIKE IT I AGreE WITH THIS

ooh he reacts a little bit to “all the other fairground freaks”

FIDDLING WITH THE BANDAGES

Ursus sounds Angery

 oh. gwynlit :( he’s cryin :( on “I don’t believe you” :(

😭💀😭💀

these two have PROBLEMS in this version and i am Hurt

he’s doing hand things again

VOCAL THINGS

this is canon now

DEA JUST HELPED HIM WITH THE CRIMSON LETHE

it looked like he was too jittery or something so she puts his hand over his and helps him bring the bottle of crimson lethe up to his mouth

im really just filling up a shopping cart over here

did quake just clock ursus over the head or did someone get shot boy golly that was loud

wait though with the little noise that Gwyn did a second ago, we hear it after the crowd starts doing it but in-universe did they hear him do that at some point and now they’re imitating it 👀 

THAT CRISMSON LETHE JUST KNOCKED HIM OUT HE JUST FLOPPED FORWARD AND DEA HAD TO CATCH HIM 📝👀

oh. “The Grinning Man Is Not To Be Disturbed” is because he’s straight up out of it after having the medicine. oh no

Mojo just growled as Gwyn stood up and i heard it wrong and thought there was like a cartoon sound effect like “LOOK HOW FAST HE JUST STOOD UP. WOOSH.” but no it was a growly bark

he held onto Dea’s hand and kind of hopped over to the door that was neat

i’m gonna start holding everything i read Like That

shjshgsj he just held it Like that and Stared before switching to holding it normally and actually opening it

random Itch

her outfit really is cute though i like this costume

“who I aaaaaaaaaam” stop the voice is too good sir

okay but that maneuver really is illegal y’all ought not to have done that

wait wait lemme go back and

i don’t know how i feel about that

one more time lemme check lemme just ch

*phil collins voice* oh lord

there is no reason

gwyn sweetheart you are not strong enough. she will kill you.

i now know what song this reminds me of now and i’m so upset

why do they have the outside of the cart looking like a happy meal box

GWYN WHAT WAS THAT

he just did the squawkiest laugh oml

HOLD UP

“you must see or you’ll never know” “YOU’RE RIGHT! Something is changing! She wants to meet me!” WHAT IS THIS CONVERSATION

HE SOUNDS HAPPY

SHE KNOWS HE’S GOING TO MEET SOMEBODY AND SHE ACTUALLY KISSES HIM LIKE “You must go!” WHAT

boy i know you did not just finger-gun goodbye at the blind girl

he’s walking in place now and i’m crying

she told him he must go now and he took it so literally he left while she was still talking

THE WALKING IN PLACE THOUGH. IT’S IN SLOW MOTION. I AM DISTRAUGHT

did you just wave at someone Gwyn

he’s so doped up

i think he thinks he’s about to get beat

okay in this version he doesn’t Let Osric grab his hand Osric just kind of grabs him and then Gwyn snatches his hand away and Osric’s like “i’ve got a funny feeling in my hand” meanwhile Gwyn puts his hand up and looks at it for a second and shakes down his sleeve and then he’s all hands-on-hips and looking at Osric like >:?

i think he just did the sound with them

and he’s having another attack.

he just fell back and they caught him and one person grabbed his hand and yanked him forward and now they’re picking him up

idk think he knows he’s alive in this version

AJSHFAJGAH THEY’RE DOING HIM LIKE THE PUPPETS IN THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST DANCE SEQUENCE THEY JUST TOSSED THAT BOY LIKE A FRESHLY-LAUNDERED BEDSHEET

he ain’t well sir

that’s all for now!

[iznightwing]

TUA Season 2 Spoilers

So, this is my immediate reactions to the new season of The Umbrella Academy. Please enjoy

Episode 1

They all got stuck in different parts of early 60s Dalas, TX

Threat of nucular war

"The Swedes" are our main(?) protagonists for this season it seems

Diego(1963) is in a mental asylum because he's trying to stop JFK's assassination.

Vanya(1963) has some minor amnesia

Luthor(1962) is a mobster???(idk)

Allison(1961) is married, helping with the civil rights movement

Klaus(1961) stole a guys truck and fighting with Ben

Ben(with Klaus) is still a ghosty boi(😭)

Five(1963) as to figure out how to stop the fuck apocalypse ****again**** that they ended up bringing back with them

Episode 2

Handler is alive, but she got demoted

Luthor works for Jack Ruby apparently

Luthor still hates Vanya -_-

"Dad should have left him on the moon" jsjegdidu Five's fuckin savage

Diago and Lila(new character) escape the mental hospital

Allison's husband just got arrested for "assault and battery"

Diago is still trying to get Lee Harvey Oswald

Klaus is literally treated like a Hippie Jesus but he doesn't like it

They have fottage from JFK's assassination, which isn't for another 6 days, based on the show's timeline

FUCKING REGINALD IS IN THE FOOTAGE?!?!

Luthor found where Vanya has be- OH SHIT HE HAS A GUN

Luthor doesn't realize Vanya has amnesia

He wants to apologize to her???

LUTHOR DON'T DO IT

SISSY(new character) PULLED THROUGH

2 of the 3 guys sent to kill the Hargreaves are just throwing a knife at each other while the other one cooks??

Five and Diego are going to search for Reginald

Allison's husband is getting suspicious because she almost used her power in front of him

Lesbian vibes coming from Sissy and Vanya

Five being vulnerable makes me soft

Reginald has (a) mannequin family(ies)??

Pogo!!

Reginald just fucking stabbed Diego I-

Episode 3

Klaus seriously is just Hippie Jesus

Lila saved Diego's life

Vanya run girl!

Yaasss queen! You use thos powers!

Well, Five found Vanya

Luthor is trying to find Allison

Klaus and Allison reunited!!

Handler changed her appearance??

Allison is a strong independent woman, and ain't none can tell her otherwise

Daaamn klaus and Ben just used his ghosty self to get Allison's husband out of jail

Five tries to help Vanya get her memories back

I'm fairly certain Lila has a thing for Diego

THEY MADE OUT! I WAS RIGHT

Okay, they're doing more than making out

Luthor found Allison's address and met her husband. Can you say **awkward** !

Allison ain't taking no shit my dudes

DAVE!! AAAHHH

Klaus is being the awkward gay

OH FUCK OUR IS BOY HAVING SOME PTSD

KLAUS IS TRYING TO SAVE DAVE FROM GOING TO VIETNAM!

I think Ray(Allison's husband) is mad at Allison...

Vanya and Five went find Luthor

Shit going wrong at the sit-in

Oh shit Allison just made Ray scared of her by using her power

Klaus managed to get Allison out of all the chaos

Luthor just purposely lost a fight??

Lila what the fuck are you doing??

Lila, what are those keys for??

LILA YOU FUCKING WORK FOR HANDLER?!?!

MOM?!?!?!

Episode 4

FIVE WAS THAT YOU?! I SWEAR TO GOD IF IT WAS-

I don't know how I feel about this my dudes

Vanya and Luthor bonding??

Jack Ruby just fired Luthor??

Vanya and Five just had a fight

Klaus is not the best person for moral support

"He stabbed me" "I'm surprised he waited this long, Diego. We've all had the urge" jdjdgdj savage Five back at it again

So Reginald is part of a "shadow government"??

OH FUCK DAVE NOOOO

Allison, honey, you can do better babe

Oh nooo Klaus is going back to the dunk side

Welp, Klaus' followers found him

Diego, Lila and Diego doing a sneaky

Allison and Luthor have reunited!!

More sneaky

GRACE! BUT NOT A ROBOT!

Oh nooo! Harlan come back!

HARLAN NOOO

VANYA TO THE RESCUE!!

Well, Luthor just got evicted

LETS GO LESBIANS

Well, Luthor's high on laughing gas, thanks to Eliot

Ooo fight scene to KISS niiccceee

Welp I think Diego feels betrayed

Five knows ancient Greek apparently

Episode 5

BABY POGO

Pogo was apparently sent to space

That moment you realize Reginald treated Pogo more like a son than he did his own children

Diego and Five are onto Lila

Allison and Klaus are have a heart to heart

As I stated previously, LETS GO LESBIANS

Oh nooo

Luthor, you're just going to get your feelings hurt

Told you soooooo

"Dude, that's rough" I- they literally missed the opportunity to use "that's rough buddy"

Handler, what are you planning?

Now Diego doesn't trust Vanya -_-

ALL THE SIBLINGS ARE TOGETHER YAY

The Swedes are just living their best life in this random women's home

Damit Klaus

God damit Luthor

Don't follow her damit

AAAAHHHH BENNNN

Klaus calling out all the in*est shippers

"The only thing the Umbrella Academy knows about love... is how to screw it up" I didnt need called out like this Klaus

I love some quality sibling bonding

Well that guy just went boom

I lowkey like this cover of Billie Eilish's "Bad Guy"

Five figured out Lila and Handler are working together

Vanya trying to confess her love to Sissy I- baby nooo

Vany, baby, it's all gonna be okay

The swedes are down to two. Poor guys

Idk how I feel about this version of Adele's "Hello"

Klaus is confronting his followers

Allison decided to tell Ray everything

Episode 6

Allison, run baby!

Ooo how sweet!

Seriously Handler. What are you planning?

So luthor, Diego and Vanya are going to talk to Reginald

Klaus' followers won't listen to him

Allison got Ray to believe her. Yay!

Ooooh booooyyy, pooh shhhiiittt

BINGOO!

oh shit, what the hell??

Oh my god, Dave come baaaaccckkk!!!

"Unharm my wiener" oh my god

I think Luthor let rip in the elevator, lol

Reggie wants proof

And with that proof comes a mess of fruit

So, Ben can possess Klaus

Diego doooonnn't

Vulnerable Five gets me every time

Nooooo not Eliot

Sissy, it's gonna be okay baby

Oh noooo

Oh fuuucckkk

Episode 7

I have a bad feeling about this

Well that was... interesting

Klaus is being Ben's wingman and letting him possess him to talk to a girl

I don't like Carl's attitude

I knew Handler was gonna pull something

Diego just threatened an old lady because of a misunderstanding I-

Istg, I want to shoot Handler in the head again

God damnit Diego

Ben, enjoy yourself baby, but don't abuse your brother's trust

Fuck off Carl

Allison, honey, please go with Luthor

Ben, you're doing great sweetie

Diego knows that Ben is able to possess Klaus

Vanya, please don't fight with your brother

Diego, please lis- GOD DAMIT LILA

Allison, baby, its going to be okay

Sissy, what are you doing?

Backstreet boys to a fight scene. Nice

So vaccuum extensions can be a weapon

Klaus, Ben, stop fighting!

Okay, so that happened

Shiiitt

Vanya, don- SHIIIIT

Episode 8

So Vanya is the russian baby from the opening of the first season

"You've had your possession privileges revoked!" "I regret nothing!"

Oh shit, he's gonna- ope, he knows it was Handler

Diego, don't let them treat you like that man

Grace, please be careful

Grace, don't believe him

So, five is going to look for himself. Literally, not figuratively

Sissy, don't listen to him

DON'T HURT HER YOU ASSHOLES

The FBI be assholes(for legal reasons this is about the show only)

This won't end well

Lila, please. Control yourself

Five apparently doesn't trust himself(the old body version of himself)

Diego, don't fuck up

Fancy shmancy machine

Sooo, Vanya causes this apocalypse too??

Past five wants to "kill" present Five??

Brain food. Ha

Ray, just listen to your wife

Uuuuhhhh Harlan??

Episode 9

Allison, please be careful baby

"You look like Antonio Banderas with the long hair, I just thought you should know"

Common Klaus, I know you can do it baby

BEN!!

"Because I'm him, and that is exactly what I'd do if I wanted to kill me!"

"I'M THE DADDY HERE!!" Gejkzudh I'm-

743??

Carl stop it!

Sissy, POP OFF

God damnit Lila

Five. For god sakes

Oof, I felt that through the screen

"Dancing with myself" is a completely appropriate song to go with this fight scene

Ben, be careful baby. I know your dead, but still

Vanya, baby, it's gonna be okay

Ben noooooo

Shut the fuck up Carl

OH SHIT

Lila knows the- GOD DAMNIT IT WAS FIVE

Don't listen to her Lila!

Okay, so that just happened

Diego is still trying to stop the assassination

Five sent old Five through his rift to 2019

Well, Diego got duped

Reginald didn't know about the plan of the assassination??

WHAT THE FUCK?!

UUUHHH

Episode 10

Okay, so we open up with Ben's funeral

Wow Reginald

Klaus apparently convinced Ben not to go to the light?

So now they're all wanted by the FBI

Guys, please listen to Vanya

Okay, so he was scared of the light, it wasn't Klaus that got him to stay

"Anyone makes a fat joke and I'm outta here"

Oh- oh no

Harlan, baby, please listen to Vanya

Uuuuhhhhhhhh

So Diego can control the direction of more than just knives. Okay then

Hell yea baby, Vanya saves the day

WHAT THE FUCK

OH SHIT, FIVE

Nooooo

Phew that was close. Why is it always Allison that almost dies?

Don't listen to her Harlan!

Listen to them Lila!

NOOOOO

WHAT THE FUCK

YASSS BITCH

Harlan, it's okay baby!

Yassss

Way to go Herb!

No Sissy, go with herrrrr

I have mixed feelings about all this

And theyre back home

Apparently Reginald is alive??

THE FUCK

[ilosttrackofthings]

Ooooh happy fic!! Biospecialist + spoon. Please (:

So ... when I conceived of this fic I thought it was happy. And then I wrote it and it came out all angsty. Whoops? Hey, Jemma’s happy, so that’s something.

Grant’s gotexperience waking up without letting on he’s conscious, butplugging into the Framework is a whole new experience. Every sensation from the light on the other side of this eyelids to the beat of his own heart is different. And even though he is still lying down, he’s not onhis back in a darkened room with the hum of the Zephyr around him,he’s on his side in a sun-warmed room with an even warmer bodypressed against his back. So he really can’t help the gasp ofsurprise.

“No,” comes thefamiliar voice at his ear. The arm draped over his chest tightens andJemma pulls herself more fully against him, hitching her chin overhis shoulder so she can mumble in his ear. “It’s too early to beup.”

He stares down ather hand, caught in his, and the familiar ring on her finger. Hestole that ring on an op—from a very bad woman, he was sure to tellher, and she laughed and let him put it on her and swore she’d be his forever. He hasn’t seen itin years. He’s pretty sure she threw it in the ocean or, if she wasfeeling more practical when she got around to abandoning it, that shepawned it and gave the cash to the first homeless person she saw. That sounds like his Jemma.

She shifts again, this time moving aside just enough that she can forcehim down onto his back. She looks different. This Jemma never went to Maveth andspent months living off seeds and dirt, she doesn’t have thatunhealthy thinness still clinging to her. Her hair’s longer too.Not by much, but it’s the length he prefers, perfect for digginghis fingers in or just casually playing with while they’re inpublic so everyone with eyes can see she’s his.

“Grant,” shesays seriously. “Did you have a bad dream?”

She looks soworried. Like she cares.

Helooks down at her hand again. He’s been running his thumb over thering, the way he used to do.It’s perfect. A 100% accurate representation. If Jemma weren’t sobrainwashed by this whole fake world Radcliffe’s created, she’dbe impressed.

It’sa better world, the robot Coulsonsaid when he was trying to plug Grant in here along with her, abetter life. One whereyour regrets are gone, never even happened.

Hewould’ve thought, if he’d let himself think about it at all, thatfor Jemma that would mean anything but this. She hates him, claimsshe was never his wife at all and the man she married is dead. Sheeven, on her more dramatic days, likes to call Grant his murderer.

Yethere she is. A world without regrets and she’s in his bed,wearing his ring. 

“Grant,”she says again, worry darkening her tone.

Hedoesn’t want that. He wants that smile he hasn’t seen in threeyears, so he says, “Yeah. Yeah, it was a nasty one.” He can’timagine anything worse. “But it’s over now.” He brushes herwild hair away from her face and wraps his fingers around the back ofher skull. She tips her head into his palm with a smile that nearlycracks his heart in two.

“Good,”she says, shimmying up so she can rest more comfortably against hischest. God, he’s even missed the weight of her. “If you want togo back to sleep, I’m right here.” Even though the sun’s wellrisen, she must be really tired because she’s already half asleep.

Heruns his fingers through her hair and down her spine. “I know. Ithink I’ll stay up for a while though.” Daisy’ll be pissed hedidn’t get straight to work on rendezvousing with her, butshe’ll find a reason to be pissed at him no matter what hedoes—such is the lot of aformer Hydra agent—he mightas well enjoy himself and earn the chewing out that’s coming tohim.

“Suityourself,” she says around a yawn.

Maybe it’s the way he woke up causing an avalanche effect where his training abandons him completely or maybe it’s the Framework affecting his brain or maybe it’s Jemma herself. Whatever the reason, he loses grip on his self-control and lets himself say a soft, “Ilove you.” Aside from one terrible night when Jemmawas too drunk to remember, he hasn’t allowed himself to say thosewords since CyberTek. She doesn’t want them and she doesn’tbelieve them and hearing her biting responses hurt worse than hisbroken larynx ever did.

Butthis version of Jemma either doesn’t know or doesn’t care about any of thatbecause she only nestles closer to him and says, “I love you too,”before drifting off.

Heknows he shouldn’t because they come from this lie of a world, but he cherishes those words, holding them just as close as he does her while she sleeps.

[cryptidofthekeys]

All the writer asks!!!!!!

I’ve already answered the pen n paper one so I’ll leave that one out and answer the rest haha

ink: what do you do to “set the mood” when writing?

hmmm… well to usually set the mood would depend on the type of story I’m writing, if its horror/really angsty shit then I’m definitely going for dark themed music, if its something fluffy n cute- then im gonna go for some really happy upbeat music, so to set the mood- it’d usually depend on the genre

diary: how many pieces have you written that are just for you or will never see the light of day?

……Shhh… Let’s keep those my dirty little secret… (their not nsfw, thats not what I mean by that just to clarify)

journal: do you ever write just so you can enjoy something to read?

Hmm I guess I’ve done it once or twice before, but I dont do it too often-

novella: do you prefer to write short stories, one-shots, or entire novels?

I don’t think I’ve even came CLOSE to an entire novel but, I do a lot of short-stories and ESPECIALLY one-shots, im not very good at chapter based stories or anything

pulitzer: tell about/link a piece where you felt your writing was the best.

Ooooh fuck this is a tough one, Im too lazy to link it but- in my Yan!Henrik story there were some parts I ABSOLUTELY loved and felt were p damn good and in the werewolf story I wrote as well, some good parts in there too, but I definitely feel more fond over some of the scenes in the Yan!Hen story than any other one

genre: what genre do you prefer to write in?

Honestly, I’m pretty open to genres, like- fantasy, science-fiction, etc- the whole shabang- im not too picky bout any of them-

narrator: what pov do you like writing in best?

hmmm I guess like- wouldnt it technically be in third person with the way I write, for the reader its always You and or they, I always keep a story gender-neutral so that way all readers can be who they want to be in the stories, it can give them a better chance to imagine themselves in said position, now if i got a specific thing to do, male, female, non-binary, etc- then yeah I’d do that

backstory: how did you come to love writing?

That’s a- actually kinda simple tbh- its not an interesting story- At first I was actually unsure about it, but then- the more I wrote, the more I got super into it-  It was just… super fun to me after I did it for awhile

time-lapse: how long have you been writing (as a hobby or for work)?

It’s a hobby for now, but I do wish I could open commissions- but hmm its been like, maybe 5-6 years by now, maybe even a bit longer

characterization: describe your favorite character(s) you’ve written.

You should know this for sure haha, my favorite characters to write with tho- I’ll just say who they are, all the septic egos p much except… im still not too confident with writing Angus yet, some of the Iplier egos, like the Jims, Harold, and Eric, and I’m trying to branch out to other fandoms, I like writing with David n Daniel, from the cc fandom, and I’m trying to work on Dream Daddy characters too, Joseph, Robert, Mary, etc- and then my own characters too- I dont write wiht them often but I try

carnegie: what authors and/or books/stories have inspired you to write or influenced your work?

hmmm… I get inspired fairly easily so it’d be hard for me to name anything like that off the top of my head tbh

faulkner: what tropes do you LOVE writing? which ones are your guilty pleasure?

…. Why not ALL the tropes? …okay maybe not ALL of them

o’connor: what tropes/genres do you dislike writing?

Eh, im a p open person to tropes/genres- I mean unless like a trope could count as in, like- “it was all a dream” or “you were the killer all along” or some shit like that, then that type of shit isnt REALLY my cup of tea

dickinson: what insecurities do you have about your own writing? what do you think you should improve on?

There’s a lotta things I think I could improve on, honestly… I think, its not a matter of insecurity really, more so like- no matter who you are, there’s always room for improvements, I think we all improve on things every day, writing, drawing, roleplaying, even simple things- after all, there’s nowhere to really go except forward in life, so I just tend to go with my own flow, and if I improve than I’m happy with that, if I dont? Welp, that just means I still have a bit to go-

playlist: what kind of music/songs help you write? do you have a writing playlist?

oh god I w i s h I was organized enough to fucking- have a writing playlist ashdjshfdsj, it just depends on my mood- sometimes I get distracted by songs tho-

record: have you written things based off of songs? do you like to?

…I wrote one, its a really old one and im not too proud of it, but, people like it apparently so I keep it up since it seems to make em happy and thats what matters in that regard, but nah im not BIG on writing things based off songs

nobel: have you published anything you’ve written? online or irl?

Hmmm not yet, I don’t think I’m ready to physically publish my stories or anything, although my dad does encourage it, he tells me I should find a publisher or whatever and publish some stories (it wouldnt be ones with like- characters from things like camp camp, dream daddy, etc of course- it’d be ones with my own characters)

notepad: can you write anywhere or do you have to be in a specific place and mood to write?

D e f i n i t e l y a specific place and mood, my mood’s totally off and wrong right now and its frustrating bc im trying to write but the body and brain is like no motherfucker, be in pain and hate me more than you already do

parchment: how often do you or your personal life influence your writing?

I dont… know if ANY of my personal life has… influenced my writing? not that I know of anyways

dedication: if you were to publish a book or multiple, who would you dedicate the book(s) to?

I think… I dont know who I’d dedicate the books too or anything-

trope: what’s a pet peeve you have about writing?

…honestly? The one pet peeve I, myself, have with writing is the I/Me POV- now of course its fine if others use it, it could be easier to them, or they simply like it a lot, but I myself, just- cant fucking s t a n d that type of pov

input: what’s something you hate that people say to you about writing/your writing?

Okay- I need to be honest here, bc I get a lot of them, when I constantly state that I only do one shots and not chapter stories but the whole “pls continue” “another part to this please” “Do more of this” that doesnt really make me wanna do more, it makes me wanna move on actually from any of that, like im not about that plz continue, do more!!! type of comments

critic: what’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received about writing?

Oh god I’ve received TONS of good advice from people, especially when it comes to some of the German I use for Henrik, I will admit… I’ve been severely slacking with learning my German, and I…. I deeply regret it tbh, but- I never mind and am actually grateful when someone corrects me when using a word incorrectly in a sentence or whatever

mifflin: what do you feel is your strong suit in writing?

A n g s t

houghton: what’s something you love that people compliment your pieces on?

I love all compliments tbh, I especially love comments on my angst like NO HOW DARE YOU OP, or OP wha t the f uck- my  he a r t, or anything like that- …im a sadistic lil gremlin arent I? I love breakin hearts with angst, but like any compliments I receive on my stories are all greatly appreciated, I just most of the time I dont have the time to respond to them, BUT- I do read em, every last one of em-

[d007ization]

Ooooh sweet, a topic I can speak about from experience.  Another factor that contributed to what OP is talking about is that Internet atheism was a reaction to (Internet) creationism.  And we had a lot of fun debunking Kent Hovind’s and Ken Ham’s (&goons) arguments (watching them get debunked anyway). And for me and I’m sure for most of us, learning about science that way and seeing how robust it was to their lazy reasoning, was very invigorating. But creationists wouldn’t take that lying down (and apparently, they won, creationism is an alternative in some American classrooms, sadly the least of the problems their school system faces, amazing what good PR will get you though) and one of their angles of counterattack was asking “What’s the point?”  If we’re all just apes, what’s the point? If there’s no God, why bother? 

And I think for some people, certainly for me, the answer was, much like our relationship, confrontational: “Yeah! There is no point! Yeah, the world is bleak and unforgiving, you wanna run away from that? lol!”

And since in public discourse, nothing is more important than your opponent being wrong and refusing to back down, I think quite a few of us started to believe that more strongly than we originally did. Which, as OP so nicely put it, leads to the deliberate rejection of any kind of sentimentality.

There’s also the matter that constantly arguing with people (online) is draining as hell, so that can’t have helped with developing a healthy mindset. Especially when the usually ignored subject of our own mortality constantly comes up.

Interesting to note though is that pretty much all our spokesmen made a case for why atheism isn’t as negative as creationists constantly tried to make it out to be. That or they went the “uhm, atheism isn’t a belief system, actually” route. The only time I’ve ever seen someone “argue” that it’s all meaningless anyway was this joke video and Brain Firenzi has never tried arguing for or against atheism ever.

I don't think it's a coincidence that the nu-atheist movement slowly turned in to the incel-blackpill-4chan fascism we're dealing with now. A lack of religious belief doesn't in any way make someone a bad person and we should be criticizing organized religion and all the harm it's done. But the cynical dudebro atheist culture had a distinct ideology - it wasn't about science so much as using the concept of science as validation for a bitter, joyless view of the world.

I remember when people in that scene loved to talk about how no one's pets actually loved them, and people who deluded themselves into thinking their dog wasn't just using them for food were idiots. That's just science, are you triggered snowflake? But in reality, actual science has shown that your dog does have a positive emotional connection to you, one that goes beyond seeing you as a provider of necesities. So why would these self-proclaimed logical, rational men ignore the actual science in this case? Because they have been raised in a culture that rewards cruelty and dominance. Genuine scientific thinking involves abandoning your preconceived notions and coming at a subject with an open mind, but they never did that. They just looked for validation for what they already believed - everyone is inherently cruel and selfish, nothing has any meaning, we come into a heartless world for no reason, fuck kill and die and nothing matters.

This deliberate rejection and mockery of any kind of sentimentality, spirituality or connection with the land and other living beings is unhealthy. It's settler-colonial manhood taken to it's logical end point, an angry refusal to genuinely feel anything, trust anyone or make yourself vulnerable in any way. It's the mentality that human beings are all enemies who gain from each other's suffering. It isn't actually based in logic or reason, just a long oppressive ideological history, and it really isn't surprising that it became violent as fast as it did.

[torosiken]

Question do you like WCI arc? What are your thoughts on it? What do you like or do you not like about it?

hi anon thanks for asking me this question XD *cracks fingers* hoo man this is gonna be long. To anyone, please don’t get offended on what I am going to write- just in case you get the wrong idea.

well, before I start I have to admit that I am a BIG *COUGH* Sanji *COUGH COUGH HACK* fan. And the idea of Sanji Year excited me nonetheless when it first came out, along with the Vinsmokes and marriage theme. I expected a lot of things happening during this arc. And in one side, I do am pleased with the revelation of Vinsmokes and all the new characters. I liked them, however I have to really say I am really displeased with Oda’s writing during this entire arc.

The entire arc was a disaster for me. Not because I expected big things or so. Ever since Sanji’s second backstory was mentioned briefly by the wedding invitation, I already expected this arc will full of cliches and oh-my-god I hate cliches so much. Yet I put my faith in Oda- because maybe he will pull shit out nicely like he always did. But no, we got a horrible rushed-off writing instead.

My guess it’s because Oda announced Year of Sanji back in 2016, and in result, he was rushing himself to write this arc and it ended up having a horrible writing. The idea of this arc was nice- but it was lacking execution. If you have been reading what my friend Malky wrote @sleepdepravity​ about this arc, I agree most of it with her- this arc has no point of character development. Sanji is kind, but the flaunting of that fact in this arc is only shoving that idea in the reader’s face- to make people go “Ooooh Sanji is so kind he is a salvation angel” instead of actually making this a redemption or some short.

The Straw Hats are adults, at this point- character development might not really presented and it was obvious especially ever since the timeskip. They are solid and are collected. And then suddenly this arc happens. If this arc is only going to show how harsh the New World is, it’s not. Because during the entire arc I don’t even get scared at all that Sanji or anyone is going to be killed for that matter. We had that heart attack that Law might get killed back in Dressrosa, but no. Also, apparently Law’s hand can be sewn back just nicely in the end of the arc. It makes me losing the feel that Sanji might actually lose his hands in this arc. Because, for hell if I knew- they could be sewn back just like ho Law’s hands were.

Most of people are disappointed that the SH are separating again, but for me- it’s to be expected. Especially that back in Dressrosa we got mossywara as a group with Luffy. So it’s to be expected that guruwara will be the only team presented in this arc. With addition of Pedro and Carrot in the gang, that was acceptable. I liked the minks when they were first introduced. But then, Pedro and Carrot joining SH on their trip out of nowhere is way too random. Kinemon, Bartolomeo, and Cavendish joining the war as a gang is actually more established than Pedro simply joining by -assigned-. Carrot joining the gang was written out nicely, however I am displeased on how she is portrayed after that.

Don’t get me wrong, I liked Carrot as a character. But don’t you think she is too overpowered? Hey, it’s great to get a strong, badass female character. And she is cute too. HOWEVER- CONTEXT IS she is YOUNG, and she was joining the trip RANDOMLY. She never been outside before. Yet she could stand up against BM’s troops? Dude. Remember the SH back in the early days? Remember how crazy strong Zoro depicted as? He was still struggling and BADLY too at some of low-rank enemies. This is Carrot’s first adventure out of Zou. And she could handle things NICELY without getting much injuries. Even if she is depicted as a strong character, this kind of writing is just too rushed for her character.

Next is Pudding. Oh God. PUDDING. I LOVE LOVE LOVE PUDDING SO MUCH. When she was first appeared, I already liked her cute attitude- and hell, I wouldn’t mind IF she stayed cute like that at all. And then there was EVIL PUDDING revealed with the memory powers. Dude, that really makes me into her. HOWEVER then Oda decided to fuck things up. Because one second, she was shown with a flashback with Lola and then the next second, she was evil. And then, suddenly she was crying just because a MAN calling her THIRD EYE BEAUTIFUL. The backstory was cool. But… are you SERIOUS??? Then she decided to fall in love with SANJI JUST BECAUSE THAT ONE LINE??? I wouldn’t mind if there was MORE BUILD UP between the two. Maybe like— make their exchanges longer during the pre-wedding scenes??? So Pudding can be more touched by Sanji’s gentleman-y and kindness aftermath??? But come on… the build up was so lacking it makes Pudding like an inconsistent little kid. Come on. Also, give us more screentime of that memory power won’t you Oda? What’s the use of mentioning it if you aren’t going to make Pudding USE IT???

And then there’s Big Mom herself. As many have pointed out about Big Mom, it makes ZERO SENSE that she wanted everything to live in peace BUT THEN SHE CLAIMED PUDDING’S THIRD EYE AS UGLY… WHAT??? It bugs me out especially that she is a Yonko. Strong and powerful. One second she agreed to marry her child with Capone for power, but next second she tried to murder the Vinsmokes to gain their power- I mean- dude??? that was so random????? She could’ve go along with the marriage like all the other times but she decided to go against a fucking nationality filled with assassins out of all deals??? What makes her to think of that??? Why didn’t she murder the other marriage dealers instead??? Didn’t she knew the Vinsmokes were rumored to be so strong even if they actually was clueless in this fucking arc? There was no caution to the Vinsmokes at all?????

And now here comes the Vinsmokes. BRO. You were rumored to be a strong ass kingdom and then they are… this STUPID??? I love the power rangers-esque outta them. But like… dude. You are a fucking nation with science basis. And they are apparently so stupid. Falling on BM’s trap just LIKE THAT? You are trying to make a deal with a PIRATE. Are you expecting things to go simply as that? You have troops. What kind of royalties are you? There wasn’t any soldiers at the wedding party. COME ON. YOU ARE TOO DUMB. Also if I were Judge I might as well kept Sanji for his brain and use him as the tactical commander. Or maybe at least KEEP HIM FOR A FUCKING BLOOD AND ORGAN SUPPLY IN CASE ANY OF THE FRONT ROW TRIPLETS ARE INJURED IN A FIGHT. ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TRYING TO BE AN EVIL GROUP OF PEOPLE? THEN YOU FAILED WAYS TO BE EVIL GENIUSES. YOU ARE TOO DUMB TO BE EVIL GENIUSES.

And now I am talking about the Straw Hats. Jinbei joining the SH statement was EPIC but like… then I felt nothing. There was no impact to that or whatever. The only MVP in this whole arc is Brook. And I love Luffy. At least bless the Gods that he never changed. Nami in this arc was… horrible. She is suddenly just being a whiny moody kid. She kicked ass nicely in the last chapter action but like- during the entire thing she was just…. there. We are not seeing much action from her NEW WEAPON that was actually there to be a new fighting spotlight. I mean… come on???

And now we got Sanji. Oh god oh god oh god. Why.

I am not going to comment on how he is crying and shit or beating up Luffy. I actually understand why he does all of that. My only concern here is in the WRITING ON ALL OF THOSE SCENES AND NOT HOW SANJI iS ACTING DURING THE WHOLE THING. Sanji is still Sanji, and how he acts is actually still very in-character and it was nice. Including how stupid he is to think to leave the SH. And then we suddenly got Sanji saving the Vinsmokes on the fucking table scene- like a salvation angel coming from the depths of hell. I knew it was supposed to be symbolic, but it was FAR TOO CLICHE and this fucking arc is shoving down “LOOK AT HOW KIND SANJI IIIISSSSS” in reader’s face too much and I’m hella sick of it. You could’ve done that WITHOUT THAT. YEAH SURE. EVERY OP FANS WHO FOLLOW THE ENTIRE OP SHOULD’VE KNOWN THAT SANJI IS NICE ALREADY TBH YOU DOn’T NEED TO FLAUNT IT OVER AND OVER TOO MUCH SLKGSJKGjsKGS

Also Sanji’s second backstory is suddenly changing EVERYTHING about him. It makes as if the first backstory about starvation never happened. No, of course the readers know it’s still there. But suddenly in this one arc it’s treating like it was all that was about- making him sounded like an entire new and different character instead of the Sanji we are all know all these whole time. Character revealations are good, guys. But last time it happened- it was Luffy with his second backstory(ASL). It didn’t change our view on Luffy at all. However, on Sanji- everything did change. All of sudden people are talking about “look at how weak he was! He is not weak anymore! Look at how he never had a proper family and now he does!” when in fact that past was already long gone and Vinsmoke Sanji was dead- he was already reborn as simply Sanji and he was not weak or not having a family. This arc is talking as if he was never having anyone when he actually does.

There’s also Reiju- talking that she couldn’t disobey her father. Yet she occasionally does. This mechanism was confusing in any matter. Also there was the Vinsmoke brothers showing emotions at each other… everything is too inconsistant. Sanji’s resolve to be a chef is not even as strong as I thought it would be. and especially for fucks sake he is a prince, and he is aware that he is one. The fucking kingdom’s system is too fucked up even though I have to admit I liked the kingdom’s concept…

And suddenly I fogotten what else I wanted to write and everything ended up going into a loop without clear points of what I wanted to actually point out /shot

WCI has too many characters to introduce and to be offered. The thing with BM’s head chef is also written as too sudden. I have no surprises if Sanji and that cook is going to have a battle in the future chapters. The classic countdown thing is a thing in OP battles, like in Dressrosa- the time limit existed before the birdcage closes. During this arc, there was the one day to marriage- and the runaway- and to calm down BM’s rage. Time limit wise, it was great to portray all of the characters hurrying and all however- WRITING wise, it was not good to rush things just to make everything fits in into the deadline.

Events in CP9, Marineford, Dressrosa and many many others were having time limits on them, however they were not as rushed as how WCI’s writing was. Oda could’ve managed to sort out more build ups to make this arc flows better thus fitting all of the characters backstories without making things too cliche or rushed.

New World is a harsh place. And I have to admit- I would’ve prefered Sanji to lose his hands or at least a leg. Or maybe even die to make the whole thing flow better. If Oda is trying to portray New World’s harshness with WCI war- the least he could make is to make the characters severely injured- or at least leave some mark off permanently to show how harsh this adventure is.

I am too tired with this arc’s horrible writing that my mind focuses on things to enjoy like “oh look at how uke sanji is in this arc” /shot

Thanks for reading my stupid rant and I hope none of you gets this to the wrong side… hopefully X”D

I am pretty sure i wanted to rant more about this arc but I forgotten what I am displeased with halfway to this answer wwww :”D

[ellie-bee242]

1, 5, 15, 20 (I just picked random numbers hope they weren’t weird questions :)

1) if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to? Ooooh, god. Um… You’d probably have to read PJO, and like Twilight because I’m that mix of sarcasm and cringe in real life? lmfao. You’d probably have to watch a lot of cartoons like Kim Possible, spongebob, and then Disney movies like zootopia and tangled cause I’m a goofball and a kid to my fuckin core, and then you’d probs have to listen to dubstep, R&B, Hip Hop, basically nearly every genre of music (aside from country, never country) to realize that my brain is just chaos at all fuckin times lol.

5) do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? do you identify yourself by the things you do? Human being? I don’t entirely understand what OP was getting at beyond the “do you define yourself by the things you do” which, only sometimes? Cause I fuck up a lot and I’m like “whelp that happened”

15) five most influential books over your lifetime. Okay, this is going to probably make you go “ELLIE WHAT?” BUT LET ME EXPLAIN.

1) Guess How Much I Love You. My mother read me this book as a kid and it holds all the childhood feels. She actually bought me a copy of it when I turned twenty one and I fucking cry when I see it on my bookshelf.

2) Twilight. LIKE ALL 12YO girls and middle aged Housewives, I was obsessed with the series when it came out, I have since learned the error of my ways but it was something that helped progress my writing because twilight was the first fandom i ever wrote fanfic for before they were labelled fandoms.

3) Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I got around to reading the series in junior year of high school and I fell in love. I still love it. It’s amazing, and when I was 12 in middle school I had the best English teacher who loved Greek mythology and subsequently made me fall in love with Greek mythology and so PJO just made that love burn brighter. Plus the range of people, emotions, the realistic portrayal of mental disorders like ADHD helped me identify with the characters. It was written in such a way that I felt the terror that Percy and friends felt with struggles and so on. Love this series.

4) Fifty Shades of Grey. YES. THEY WERE INFLUENTIAL. LEAVE ME ALONE. I PIRATED THEM OFF THE INTERNET AND READ THEN WHEN I WAS LIKE FIFTEEN. And they made me realize, at the age of fifteen, that if someone could make so much money and get on like the best seller list when their writing was that awful, I had a real shot at becoming a famous author which has always been my biggest dream. So. Moving on.

5) The Raven Cycle. This series was a recent read…. And boy… I recommend to anyone who will listen to read it. I was gifted these four books for my birthday by @cathobs and I read them in a week. Four books. In a WEEK. DO YOU KNOW HOW DEDICATED AND SUCKED INTO A BOOK I HAVE TO BE TO READ FOR A WEEK STRAIGHT WITHOUT LOSING INTEREST OR HAVING MY ADHD FLARE UP BECAUSE I HAVEN’T MOVED AN INCH FROM MY SPOT SINCE I OPENED THE COVER? the plot was amazing, the romance wasn’t completely in your face but it occurred so naturally and smoothly through the course of the series that by the time they finally kissed (both pairs) I was in tears. Literal tears. The characters are so fucking fleshed out, god I love it. The ideas, the plot, the twists, the relationships (platonic or otherwise), the struggles, the simple issues, the feels. God. I could go on and on.

Yes I have read harry potter, not i didn’t mention it. It was an amazing series and the fact that JK made an entire world was cool, but it didn’t really shape me or influence me in anyway.

20) would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else? I would love to live at camp half blood or camp Jupiter, I would also love to be a fly on the wall, following around the gangsey in Henrietta West Virginia.

Thank you for the ask honey!!!! ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥