#pants are tyranny

[sparxaf]

**I have never related to anything less than that list above. So I made my own. **

Ways to Feel Like a Depressed, Neuro-spicy, Sloth Woman

1. Wear your pajamas all day and don't bother showering. Only brush your teeth if you have to leave the house.

2. Read horny, terrible stories on apps that overcharge. Fantasize about a grumpy, alpha werewolf roughly claiming you as their moon mate. Try rubbing one out, but fall asleep in the middle because you were up all night on that dumb app.

3. Take care of your emotional needs by eating cookies by the fistful.

4. Stare blankly at the social media app of your choice, scrolling through endless videos you'll never watch & posts you'll never read. Repeat until you achieve enlightenment.

5. Cancel plans. Never answer the phone. Let your friends know that you're still alive by popping into your group chats to cryptically react to the last thing someone said. Like 🧛‍♀️. It's on them to figure out what you mean by that. You're not responding to questions this year.

6. Set small goals. Start one, realize you need to do something else to accomplish it. Then another thing. Keep ADHD-ing until you have 7 tangential projects going, and you're sobbing into a sweater you started knitting for reasons you can't remember. Feel freed by the knowledge that nothing is gonna get done and none of it matters anyway, so eat another cookie and maybe a cheese stick to celebrate your newfound apathy.

7. Hiss at discipline and accountability like an angry possum.

8. Treat your emotions like an overflowing trash container you're too depressed to empty. Stick a foot in and shove it down. Compact your unexamined feelings. How else can they properly explode when you and your loved ones least expect it if you don't overfill the bag until it breaks and everything ends up in a smelly heap on the floor?

9. Avoid math like the plague. Have panic attacks when you think about logging into your bank account. Buy something dumb on Temu. Money and math are both imaginary anyway.

10. View sports a bit like a confused puppy. Tilt your head to the side and wonder why anyone wants to be that sweaty. Once a year, act like you give a shit about your health and start using the elliptical machine and then immediately get bored and replace it with eating more cookies.

11. Fall down endless internet rabbit holes and learn about the most obscure topics you can stumble on. Make sure to babble incessantly about them to your bored coworkers, and then act morally superior when no one else knows who invented forks and why. God, why is everyone so ignorant these days?

12. Cut off people - especially men- when they aren’t worth your time. Do it with malice and a stream of profanities. Politeness is for people who aren't in their pajamas at 3pm on a Wednesday.

13. Don't say yes. Don't say no. Learn to avoid making choices altogether and ignore anyone who tries to push you to make them. Especially if the choice forces you to put on pants. No one who loves you would put you through that.

14. Dedicate one day a week to self-care. Use cheap facemasks that will inevitably break you out. Over-tweeze your already meager eyebrows and then avoid mirrors for a while. Use the Korean washcloth you got off Amazon and scrub the shit out of yourself so you can be grossed out by the dead skin you've let fester upon your person. Be very red afterward.

15. Become overly-attached to fictional characters. Join a fandom. Dissociate from reality. Write fanfic. Make it your whole personality.

16. Be unaware of the happenings in your city. Know nothing about new places unless they deliver. Be baffled by heavy traffic because you had no idea that there was a sports thingy happening. What sport? Who fucking cares? Did you know that forks were invented in China? But the first written record of tined utensils was in Greece where apparently, the use of two-tined forks were seen as vain and also, possibly demonic, as they looked like tiny pitchforks. Like whaaaaat?

17. Don't iron your clothes before or during wear (especially during). A rumpled appearance let's people know that you don't want to be where you are, and you will be leaving SOON. It's about setting expectations. Also, who irons their pajamas?

18. Never prioritize others or their needs. You're depressed and it's your right to be rumpled and solipsistic. Nothing needs to exist outside of your sadness and self-pity. Doing things for others would make you feel better and then what? You'd have to put on pants and leave the house? Gross.

19. Hydration is important. But do not--I repeat-- DO NOT make smoothies. It's a waste of time and you'll have to wash the damn smoothie blender and we both know you ain't gonna do that. Gargle water in the shower for hydration (if you can bring yourself to shower). Drink soda pop late at night so you won't sleep. Horrify the Brits and microwave some tea because it's cold in your house and you can't afford to turn the heat up (cuz 'Murica). Don't eat soup though. Soup is depressing and you're depressed enough.

20. Anxiety attacks and true crime.

Ways to Feel Like a Powerful Woman

1. Buy lingerie when you’re single.

2. Read about finance and news.

3. Take care of your physical body.

4. Meditate.

5. Stay in touch with your friends - host every now and then if you can.

6. Set small goals everyday and accomplish them.

7. Be disciplined in whatever you do.

8. Work on your emotions. It’s important to be aware of what you’re feeling, and not brush them away.

9. Be good at math. Bonus points if you can calculate discounts, sales and tips in your head.

10. Stick to one sport of any kind. It’ll create a sense of self.

11. Aim to always be educated, without your ego of knowing everything getting in the way.

12. Cut off people - especially men- when they aren’t worth your time. Do it politely, cordially and quickly.

13. Be able to say no.

14. Dedicate one day a week to beauty and care. Masks, hair removal (if you choose to), exfoliation, blackhead removal, body brushing, nails - take care of your body.

15. Enjoy things without developing an attachment to them.

16. Know the best happening places in your city/ the city you know you’re going to eventually live in/ your dream city. Events, people (even if you don’t know them personally), establishments - keep yourself up to date.

17. Iron your clothes before you wear them.

18. Never prioritise anyone over your well being.

19. Drink stuff that isn’t alcohol or soda. Water, soups, cold pressed juices, smoothies, teas.

20. Multivitamins and collagen.

[trevisos]

i’m holding xarrai in my hands like a baby bird. my weird angry little court jester. little fool who thirsts for blood and revenge. extremely normal little clown who desires only retribution.

[48787]

So, as it turns out, my capacity for tyranny is actually fuckin huge and I'm really fucking good at it

I have so many more things to put in my book now

Peace Through Tyranny will be real circa 2048 and it'll still be sued by fucking Hasbro

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 15: The Failed Plan

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering.Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta-read.

Word Count: 8415 words.

A/N: Sorry for posting late. This was a long boi to edit plus it was my b-day lol

Also, thanks to Luna, my new beta reader, for the help!

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

“Yorozu, wake up.” Without having opened her eyes, she recognized her mother's soft voice in the morning. “Come with me to the market, Yorozu.” She shook her foot to wake only her up, who slept peacefully on the edge of the bed next to her twin sisters.

The golden light of the sun blended with the green plush grass and the white wild flowers of the large open field. The few trees around created abstract works with their delicate shadows. The little birds, hungry and romantic, sang in the distance, announcing the arrival of a new day. Yorozu rubbed her eyes to get used to the little light that entered through the windows, decorated with soft cobwebs that she had forgotten to remove the day before. She saw her mother confused at the foot of the bed, ready with her broken basket to go to the market.

“Nice try, mom.” Yorozu crawled back into the blankets her grandmother had embroidered for them years before she died. “The market isn’t open yet at this time. Goodnight.”

“Yorozu!” Her mother scolded her, losing her patience, waking Mimiko and Nanako up in the process. “We have to go,” her mother insisted before giving Yorozu a smack.

“What’s going on?” Nanako asked in a sleepy mumble to her, as her twin sat on the edge of the bed. 

“She said we’re going to the market,” Mimiko replied, confused as to why they were leaving so early.

“No, you girls don’t have to go. I just need Yorozu,” her mother replied, trying to pull Yorozu away from her sisters.

Yorozu looked at the small calendar her sisters had drawn on the wall and quickly realized what day it was. The day she had patiently waited for had finally arrived. Today was harvest day. She sat on the bed to decide her next move if she didn't want to be taken to Sukuna's castle. 

Unlike you, who always tries to see the good side of people, Yorozu has always seen the bad side of people. You can't trust anyone when they live under the tyranny of an evil being who lets curses run free, eating humans without rhyme or reason. You can't trust anyone when other humans are always going to prioritize their own lives over others. Humans can become horrible creatures under the influence of panic once resources run out, like her own mother.

"Are you going to sell me to the king…?" Yorozu asked her mother directly, who was stunned that she realized so quickly. "… like Y/n?" Yorozu inquired.

"I've already told you thousands of times that Y/n left on her own. She left a farewell letter and everything." Her mother pretended to cry as if she missed her daughter.

Yorozu knew she was evil inside. She never faked it or denied it. That was why she always found it so easy to tell her own kind apart. At the end of the day, she was her mother's daughter. No one was surprised that a narcissistic and selfish woman would end up raising her lookalike. Yorozu envied her older sister because she had dad's personality, a strong, protective, and kind man above all things. Secretly, you were always his favorite, the only one who put her big girl pants on at the time of his passing, someone who always cared about others before herself unlike every other human she knew. You were like the ones who would die to protect her family.

“Put the crocodile tears aside and accept what you did.” Yorozu faced her, standing in front of her with her arms crossed over her chest.

Her mother smiled at the great offense. She couldn't believe that her own daughter blamed her for something so horrible that she had done, but she didn't have to know that. Nanako pulled Mimiko by the nightgown to leave the room to get away from the argument, but the brunette twin still wanted to see how the fight developed. Despite being the same age, the blonde was the one who made the decisions for both of them.

“Yorozu, I would never do...!” Her mother tried, but a blow to the face interrupted her sentence. Yorozu shook off the punch as if it was nothing. Her mother looked at her in shock as her nose bled.

“Fine, don't accept it, but I'm not going to let you take me to that prison for your stupid desires. I'm not as stupid as Y/n,” Yorozu said, getting on guard, ready to give her mother the beating she so deserved. “Is this really happening?” Nanako and Mimiko thought in unison as if they shared the same brain.

“I didn’t want it to be like this, but it will have to be.” Her mother put her hair up with a rag, making sure her hair didn’t get in the way of her vision. “Since you were of no use to me to move forward, I shall take you out so you don’t get in my way. This wouldn’t be happening if you had accepted King Gojo’s hand.”  

Yorozu let out a war cry before launching herself at her mother. It was supposed to be a fistfight, but like any fight between women, they ended up grabbing each other’s hair. Yorozu was at a disadvantage because of her long hair. Even though she threw hollow punches, her mother controlled her like a puppet. Nanako and Mimiko watched from the doorway as they cried at the sight of the two members that were left in their family fighting so wildly. The only adults in their lives, the ones who were supposed to protect them, were fighting to the death. They wanted to intervene to stop them, but they knew they could never do anything about it.

Yorozu pushed her mother to the ground, in an attempt to get her hands off of her. She positioned herself over her and continued hitting her anywhere visible. They were clumsy and desperate blows to free herself from her and her uncertain fate. Her mother ended up receiving them as she did not have the speed or strength to resist. The cries of her twin sisters only infuriated her more. “This wouldn't be happening if Y/n was here” Yorozu thought furiously before continuing to hit her mother.

“No matter how many times you hit me, I'm going to sell you. Whether you like it or not!” Her mother threatened her while her mother cried from the pain of being beaten. This brought back terrible memories of her childhood.

The woman didn't know her family. She was banished from her homeland when she turned 6 for not having “what it took” to be part of the family, so she always had to survive. Find somewhere to eat, where to sleep, and repeat. Get on her feet by her own means to show that she had what it takes and much more to offer. She didn't have a cursed technique, but she had courage. Her nose could lose blood in a waterfall, her dress could lose its cleanliness by rolling in the dust and her dignity could be questioned with each blow, but she would never lose hope on herself. She had to do it, she couldn't die without first proving to the family that abandoned her that she could become someone without their help. She was going to get to be part of a family bigger than them, no matter what.

“So you accept it, you stupid old woman?!” Yorozu yelled full of fury.

“I sold Y/n to give you a chance, and you blew it! Damn brat!” Your mother screamed with blood stained teeth.

Yorozu continued to beat her out of anger, while her mother barely defended herself. All of her daughters knew that she had sacrificed her eldest daughter to try to take care of her family before worrying about herself and her future. Yorozu was sick of seeing you reject marriage offers from neighbors for fear of leaving your family after her father's death. She was fed up that she gave away her daughter, who had done nothing wrong, to the devil. The tears of helplessness at being in that situation were too much for her. Being her mother's favorite, she thought that it would at least give her a little more time to get a husband.

The brunette was starting to get tired, but she had to finish the job one way or another. She didn't have many options. She didn't want to run away from her own home so that her mother could then take advantage of the minors in the house. Her mind was pure chaos, and it was going to very dangerous places out of desperation to escape the situation. She wasn't going to give her life so that her mother could get away with it. The only one who could ruin her life was herself.

The situation took a 180-degree turn when her mother pulled her by the hair and pushed her to the ground, taking advantage of her daughter's exhaustion. Yorozu pushed her by the bloody face to get her away from her, staining her nightgown with the blood dripping from her nose, but her mother sought to knock her out with her bony fists. She would take any path to take Yorozu to the castle of the tyrant who was going to give her 100 gold coins for her daughter, with that money they could eat and everything would go smoothly from there.

"Let me go now!" Yorozu said between heavy breaths.

"Make me, girl!" Her mother told her with a sinister smile.

Her bony hands took hold of her neck tightly. A drastic but necessary measure. Yorozu tried to do the same, but her mother did not allow it. She felt like her head was emptying with each useless breath in search of oxygen. She only heard the desperate cries of her younger sisters for their mother to let her go. Her hands searched for a way to get her to let go, but all they could do was claw at her arms.

Her neck was turning purple from the lack of blood circulation, her head was spinning, and she could feel her soul leaving her body. She internally begged her sisters to do something more productive than just cry inconsolably. “I wish I had a knife to kill this old woman” she thought as she looked at her mother's face, blurred by the tears that clouded her vision. 

As if by magic, a kitchen knife appeared in her hand. She clenched it in confusion when she realized what it was, but she wasn't going to waste it. Her mother saw the object her own daughter had created to hurt her in shock. “Yorozu has a technique?!” She thought furiously before her own daughter stabbed her in the neck several times.

Blood began to gush out of her mother's airway, drenching Yorozu in the crimson liquid as she caught her breath. The limp body of the woman who gave her life collapsed on top of her. Her daughter kicked her off of her, without any remorse for what she had just done. Nanako and Mimiko hugged each other as they watched their dead mother's body collapse to the ground. Yorozu rested against the floor as she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand.

Seeing her lifeless mother beside her felt unreal. She looked as if she was just asleep. She had ended her life like a magic trick gone wrong. The young woman felt no remorse or worry, just felt an indescribable peace at no longer having to deal with that woman who used them as if they were the golden lottery ticket to escape from her shitty life.

"Thank you for nothing," Yorozu scolded her sisters. They came over to help her up.

“Is she really dead?” Mimiko asked between hiccups from crying from seeing her sister kill her mother in cold blood.

“Of course she is. It won't be a problem anymore.” Yorozu checked her dress, she was covered in blood. “I'm not washing that,” she thought, annoyed.

She had to change. She took off her dress without thinking twice. Nanako and Mimiko were already used to seeing her naked around the house. It was an annoying habit that had started when you disappeared from their lives, since you weren't there to scold her to put on more clothes. They really hated it because they felt she only did it to gather attention from the neighbors, but that wasn't their problem anymore. If an insect bit her in an uncomfortable area, they weren't going to scratch it.

“Now what are we going to do?” Mimiko asked worriedly, wiping away her tears as best she could. Now that her mother had died in front of her eyes, the only responsible adult was Yorozu. She didn't know which thing was worse.

"Isn't it obvious?" Nanako asked sarcastically. "We have to bury mom."

"There's no time for that," Yorozu answered before putting on the first dress she pulled from the closet.

"What do you mean there's no time for that?" Nanako asked, confused.

"Didn't you listen to what mom said? Y/n is in Sukuna's castle, we have to rescue her," Yorozu said as she tied the laces of the dress behind her back.

"Rescue her? And how are we going to do that?" Mimiko asked, making sure that her crazy sister was serious.

"I have no idea, but today is the perfect opportunity to do it," Yorozu answered as she put on her shoes.

Everyone who lived under King Sukuna's dictatorship knew about the day of the harvest. The elders lived worried that their children would give them up so they wouldn't have another mouth to feed, while the children were taken to the castle by their own parents, so the king could do the hard part for them. It was a day when everyone was tense, but not for them. This was the only day they could sneak in without anyone suspecting anything.

Mimiko crossed her arms and looked at her sister from head to toe. Besides being the only sister with blonde hair, inherited from her father, she is the smartest sister in the family. She loved her family, but she knew something was up with Yorozu for as long as she can remember. She is very immature for her age, she plays with boy’s hearts and treats everyone badly, but everyone tolerates her because she is "family."

"Aren't you supposed to not want to go there? There are many curses and the king is horrible," Nanako asked worriedly.

Nanako was very different from her twin sister. Even though she knew something was up with Yorozu as well, she still cared for her. With their mother dead in front of them, they were now alone. It's true that she wanted Y/n back, but the chances of her coming back or even being alive were very low. If she could make Yorozu change her mind, she would.

"Don't worry. I have this now." Yorozu created another knife to fall into the palm of her hand. The twins freaked out at the sight of its power. "I'll get Y/n out of there no matter what and everything will go back to the way it was before," she promised them before stomping her feet to make sure her boots were on properly.

They set off on the long journey once they had laid out the plan. They walked through the long grasslands, gravel paths, and stone roads as they watched the creepy black castle grow closer and closer. As the hours passed, they reached the central citadel. The markets were beginning to open, displaying the finest quality human meat and vegetables at their respective stalls, while the curses walked freely through the streets. They watched the humans with pity and envy of how the humans willingly went into the beast's teeth. If it weren't for the dry law that the king had imposed for the day of the harvest, they would have already been eaten.

The trio of sisters marched with their heads down so as not to draw more attention than they already did. Mimiko hugged her sister by the arm as they followed Yorozu towards her certain death. They heard the malicious giggles of the curses, mocking them. Under other circumstances, Yorozu would be terrified, but now that she had a technique, she felt unstoppable. They approached the drawbridge that led into the castle. Due to the occasion, there was a small wooden hut with several curses lined up, ready to receive the harvest. They all wore shiny armor and the flag with the symbol of the king they faithfully served.

“Who are you here to deliver?” The curse asked her as soon as the eldest approached the stand.

“Myself.” The curse was surprised that she wouldn’t deliver one of the girls who accompanied them.

“Wow… How heroic…” It said sarcastically before handing her the contract to sign. “Sign the contract and the money is yours,” it explained.

Yorozu took the contract to read the small paragraph she had to sign. The contract consists of three rules: The first stipulates that once the compensation is received, the crop belongs to the king. The second is that the crop will not receive visitors of any kind, or the visitors will be executed immediately. And the third is that if the crop dies, no one outside the castle will be notified. A cruel contract made to leave someone with the least feeling of guilt possible. Yorozu was about to sign, but Mimiko stopped her by the arm.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked. Yorozu broke free from her weak grip and signed.

The curse threw the sack of 100 gold coins at her feet for her to pick up. Yorozu smiled cynically before picking up the bag from the ground, showing that she didn’t care in the slightest about its opinion of her. She already had permission to enter the castle, all that was left was to find her older sister and escape together. It would be complicated, but she knew she could do it. She walked up to her little sisters’ height to give them the sack of coins.

“I’ll be back soon,” Yorozu whispered to them before two curses forcibly pulled her into the castle.

And that’s how the rest of her Hasaba family completely disintegrated. Nanako squeezed the small sack in frustration as she watched Yorozu abandon them so easily to pursue a small chance. That simple act made them realize that Yorozu didn’t care in the slightest what happened to them. “Y/n wouldn’t have done that,” she thought, annoyed.

“She's not coming back, is she?” Mimiko asked her sister as they watched the curses throw Yorozu into the courtyard.

“The girl who doesn't know how to be kind or clean?” Her twin answered sarcastically. “She’s dead,” she finally said before taking her hand to go back where they came from.

“Now what are we going to do?” Mimiko asked worriedly.

“We'll bury mom and get out of here,” the blonde decided strongly.

“What if Yorozu really comes back?” Her sister inquired without any resistance.

“That's not our problem anymore,” she answered seriously.

The sisters began their journey back to their home to bury their mother and plan their escape from the land of curses. It would be complicated for a pair of 11-year-old girls, but not impossible.

Today was the day. The day you would have to defend yourself from your sister. You couldn't sleep the night before because of the anxiety of having to face a sorceress with a thirst for revenge. You lay there, staring at the ceiling as you thought of strategies to somehow avoid the inevitable. You paced around the room with your heart in your hand from worry. You checked your archery equipment several times to make sure it was ready in the morning, despite wishing you didn't have to use it.

You couldn't do it. It was too much pressure for you. You couldn't kill your sister. What would your father think of you? He would look down on you in disappointment from heaven for turning you against the family he created with so much effort. Small tears of frustration from not finding a solution to the matter ran down your cheeks as you prepared to eat breakfast. You looked at yourself in front of the mirror as you ironed the red dress with your hands, the lightest of them all. Your eyes looked swollen from spending the night crying and the obvious lack of sleep. You put on some makeup to cover the gray patches and pretend everything was okay. “Don’t worry. Whatever happens will happen,” you thought before heading to the dining room with the little desire you had to eat.

“Good morning, my king.” you greeted Sukuna upon arriving at the table, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

“The king told me to let you know, that’s why I came as quickly as possible.” You quoted Mrs. Inoue in your mind when she interrupted your study session to warn you about what your sister was up to the day before. You looked at your friend who was on the other side of the room and gave her a smile to let her know that you were okay so she wouldn’t worry, even if you felt like you were dying inside.

“Today, I feel like it’s going to be an exciting day, don’t you?” Sukuna asked you with a deranged smirk on his face.

You knew what he was doing, you had realized during the endless night. You clenched your fist under the table. He had promised your sister the same thing he promised you to turn her against you. He knew your time was running out, so he had to intervene somehow to speed up the process. You watched as he smiled at you, proud of his own actions. You were afraid to say anything that might anger him, so you stayed quiet. Your sister was quick to arrive, skipping happily to cut the weird tension between you two.

“Good morning everyone!” She greeted with a smile before sitting next to you.

“How are you feeling?” You asked worried about her well-being. You couldn’t abandon your role as older sister even though she had promised the king that she would kill you.

“Good as new! You were right, I needed a good rest,” Yorozu said. You smiled at her, relieved that she was feeling better after the fight. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for yesterday…”

“Really?” You asked surprised.

“Yes, what I did wasn’t right. I got frustrated, actually.” Yorozu pouted as she hugged you in an attempt to get your forgiveness.

You saw how Mrs. Inoue looked at her with displeasure. You could also see through her falseness, but you wanted to enjoy your sister for one more minute. Forget for a minute that you lived in a castle full of curses. Forget for a minute that you had to study and train until you were exhausted. Forget for a minute that she would kill you at any second. Just two sisters living in the countryside, running through the grassland towards the sunset for one last time.

“Let me reward you for being so patient with me,” Yorozu proposed as she rubbed her cheek against yours affectionately. Her touch was warm, unlike her intentions. “Let’s train together. I’ll do anything,” she promised.

“Okay,” you smiled at her.

Uraume and a few cooks made an appearance in the dining room as they held today’s breakfast. The servant placed a plate of red berry oats with several slices of strawberries surrounding the perimeter of the bowl, elaborately decorated with some blueberries and blackberries. In the center, like the star of the show, was a large strawberry lightly dipped in the whitish purée.

“I asked Uraume to add extra strawberries,” the servant commented, a 50-year-old man with unruly gray hair and a friendly smile. You noticed that he was the same one who had served you your birthday cake. He must be new, since you didn’t know his name.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” you thanked him, reciprocating the smile.

While you were distracted, Yorozu tried to steal the biggest strawberry from the plate with a mischievous smile. To your surprise, your hand caught her wrist before she could take it. You squeezed it tightly to make her pull her hand away in pain.

“Ow, ow, ow!” She squealed as pulling it away from the fire. “It hurts!”

“I’m sorry, but this is mine,” you declared before taking the strawberry to eat it in a big bite. Yorozu looked at you offended, she was so upset that a vein on her forehead was about to pop.

Mrs. Inoue laughed out loud. Her small eyes hid behind her chubby cheeks from happiness. She wiped away the small tears of laughter as she continued to laugh non-stop. You didn't want to take away the little joy she had in hell, so you let them have their fun, even though it was at your sister's expense. You put on your leather glove, making sure it was on properly as the lady held the bow and quiver. They waited patiently in the courtyard for the servants to bring the straw targets to start practicing. Originally, you were going to do it, but the servants offered to do it for you.

"It was so satisfying to see her annoyed face! I'm sure the others are laughing at her too." She laughed before passing you the quiver to put it across your body. You sighed as you adjusted it so it wouldn't obstruct your arms. Mrs. Inoue stopped laughing when she saw your downcast face. "What's wrong?"

"My little sister said she would kill me in front of the king today."

"Ah, that's right, I forgot about that." Mrs. Inoue facepalmed in disappointment. “Sorry, I must be getting old.”

You rubbed her back as you told her everything was fine. The servants left the weapons warehouse as they rolled the straw targets, leaving a thin trail of straw across the grass. The gardeners, who were in charge of trimming the bushes around the perimeter, put aside their work to help load the target bases. Together they placed the target on the wooden bases.

“Thank you!” You exclaimed from your spot, to which the servants only indicated to you from afar that everything was ready.

You were about to start shooting until you felt the king’s presence around you. You looked up at the bridges over the walls that connected to the watchtowers. The king, Uraume, and Kenjaku were all watching you intently, as if they were waiting for you to do something. You were used to having your training supervised, but this time it was different. Sukuna smiled expectantly at what was about to happen. Finally, after two months of waiting and holding back the urge to kill his sister-in-law, he would see your true potential in all its glory. You gulped as you felt their intense eyes on you. They were waiting patiently for you to surprise them, but you doubted you could do it. You felt like a joker in front of an audience that was about to bore him.

“King!” That shrill voice ran out of the castle to go with him. “Sorry for the delay,” she said, stopping in front of him.

“You seem very excited to kill your sister,” Sukuna told her, intrigued by the unexpected good mood.

“It's a great shame, really, but it's her karma for abandoning us,” Yorozu commented as she waved at you from afar, waving her hand from side to side like a flag. Sukuna had no idea what that meant.

“Yorozu!” You exclaimed on harvest day before launching yourself towards her to hug her tightly. Yorozu was so perplexed that it took her a while to reciprocate the hug.

She still remembered that bittersweet hug you gave her that day of their reunion. You were fine, better than fine. Yorozu thought she would find you in an ugly maid outfit, weak and with blood on your knuckles from hard work. Instead, you wore a beautiful dress, had gained a little weight from eating three times a day, smelled exquisite, and wore a delicate diamond tiara. Your sisters were so worried about you and here you were, living the best life in the castle while your sisters were starving in the countryside.

You were living the life your mother always dreamed for you without you having put in the least bit of effort. Yorozu was more than shocked at the reality of the matter. She wanted to live like that. Having a life where she only had to look pretty and quiet to have the world under her feet alongside a powerful king who does whatever he pleases.

“You're alive!” Yorozu exclaimed once, understanding the situation. Your strong morals had been corrupted by greed.

You couldn't hear her conversation with the king, but it couldn't be anything good. Yorozu smiled at you before creating a bow with its respective quiver with her cursed technique. You gripped the bow tightly out of stress. The battle was about to break out, and you only had one mission in mind: Incapacitate your sister. It was the best option so far. You could keep her alive without her being a constant threat against you.

“Hey, sister! Dodge this!” Yorozu exclaimed playfully, still pretending her role as a clumsy sister, as she pointed her bow and arrow at you.

“Is she going to be that direct?” You wondered about her bad plan, but you should have figured it out. You were dealing with Yorozu after all, she never had a plan. That's why she was such a troublemaker among the neighbors, always doing what she wanted without thinking clearly about the consequences. Ending up in a fist fight over her lousy ideas.

You stopped to wait for to shoot so you could get out of the way in time, but you noticed that she turned on her waist to the left. It reminded you of how Sukuna abruptly moved to kill a servant on their first day of practice together. Without a second thought, you pulled an arrow out of your quiver to aim it at Yorozu's arrow. Your eyes followed the target as you simultaneously released the string. The purple-feathered arrow streaked through the skies towards the head of one of the gardeners. Just a few inches from the fateful outcome, her arrow hit yours, completely deflecting it from its unfortunate target.

Your heart beat with joy at the fact that you had saved the poor man's life, but you were also furious that your sister wanted to hurt an innocent person. She was supposed to kill you, she didn't need to have done that. She had surely done it to get Sukuna's attention with her incredible abilities, but this was as far as she was going. It was time to fight back. Quickly, you took out another arrow to load the bow.

“Everyone! Get out of here! That's an order!” You bossed the servants in a commanding voice, just as you had heard Sukuna order his troops when practicing his strategies.

If Yorozu had tried to hurt one of the servants once, she wouldn't hesitate to try twice. Without hesitation, all the servants fled in terror to take shelter inside the weapons warehouse. The gardeners let the maids enter first, the only one missing was Mrs. Inoue, who faithfully stayed beside you. “She took care of the servants first so they wouldn’t get in her way. Good idea.” Sukuna was satisfied with your reaction.

“Good luck, miss,” Mrs. Inoue said before following the group while you loaded the bow.

“Go, now!” You ordered again.

“I must impress the king!” Yorozu proposed desperately before pulling the string again to hit Mrs. Inoue before she reached the warehouse. You took a deep breath as you looked at the shoulder Yorozu was holding the bow with. The time had come. Your fingers let go of the string while your shoulder was thrown back by inertia. Yorozu looked at the arrow in shock that was approaching her at high speed, she no longer had time to kill any servants. She put down her bow and raised a wall of the same concrete as the bridge to defend herself. Yorozu smiled, proud of her great defense, but it was soon erased when the arrow pierced the concrete and ended up piercing her shoulder completely.

“How the fuck did she do that?!” Yorozu thought, screaming in pain against the ground. The king, Uraume and Kenjaku looked at her surprised that a simple arrow could pierce the concrete.

“It's a good special grade bow.” Kenjaku whistled in amazement.

“It's not a cursed bow,” Uraume answered, somewhat scared as they watched the king's apprentice suffer on the ground.

Sukuna had a big smile from cheek to cheek. His little pawn was turning into a queen. He had never been so proud in his entire life. Her own sister would be the first victim of his future wife. He turned his face to look at you with all the pride in the world, but his smile was also erased when a white-feathered arrow brushed his cheek. Uraume and Kenjaku gasped in shock at the tremendous threat. A small trickle of blood rolled down the king's cheek until it stopped on his chin.

Sukuna analyzed you from head to toe. Your back was straight, your hands gripped the bow tightly, and your gaze was defiant. You were furious, not only with your sister, but also with him for involving her in their deal. You were directly challenging him to kill you because you didn't plan on killing your sister that easily. You could do many things for him, but attack your own flesh and blood, never. If he wanted you to get rid of her so badly, he should let you live after that threat.

Sukuna understood your anger. So much time of senseless orders, humiliation, and anxiety had brought you to the edge of madness, at some point you were going to explode. Sukuna licked his thumb to clean the blood in one go, healing the wound completely. He was going to let it go, but just this once.

"Yorozu," Sukuna called out to your sister as she screamed, she immediately shut up to listen to him. "Are you going to let your sister get away with this after this?" He asked her as he pointed to his hurt cheek.

"Of course not," Yorozu shrieked before stepping down the concrete wall to jump down onto the parade ground. You lowered your weapon as you watched your sister march upright towards you, even though the pain in her shoulder was consuming her. “Poor king, you hurt him because of your bad aim,” Yorozu said before pulling out the arrow, along with a muffled groan of pain as she moved her shoulder.

“It was on purpose,” you admitted angrily. “If I wanted to, I would have shot both your and the king’s heads through.” You raised your bow along with an arrow, aiming for her head.

“Trust me, you don’t want to do that,” Yorozu said, raising her hands.

“Why not?” you asked her.

“Who’s going to take care of Nanako and Mimiko?” Yorozu asked you with a “checkmate” smile. Your eyes widened at the sudden question.

“Where’s mom?” You asked her with a shaky voice as you lost your grip on the bow in helplessness.

“I killed her,” she replied with a smile. You lowered the bow in shock. “I killed her for what she did to you, for what she did to us,” she corrected herself as she approached you before moving her hand back to create a blade behind her back.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You hated your mother for what she had done to you, but never enough to kill her and leave your sisters motherless. You looked at Yorozu in shock as you realized what she was really capable of doing. You thought she didn’t hate you, that she just wanted what you had like any spoiled child, but you realized that she was more wicked than she looked. She was a bitch.

“Thank you,” you whispered to her, causing Yorozu to stop at the strange reaction.

“You’re welcome,” Yorozu replied with a smile.

“No, seriously…” You said before raising the bow again, aiming straight at her head. “Thanks for making this easier for me, bitch,” you replied as you let go of the string while staring at her head.

Yorozu gasped as she partially dodged the arrow as it tore her cheek. She lunged at you with the knife, but you stopped her by putting the bow between the two of you. She was too close to use an arrow. You pushed her away from you before grabbing another arrow from the quiver, but Yorozu was still so close that you couldn’t do anything but try to hit her with the bow. The brunette dodged it before taking the bow by force. They struggled with the weapon in a contemporary dance until Yorozu snatched it from your hands to use against you. She maneuvered it like a spear to knock you to the ground and hit you in the head. You turned to dodge it, but it only hit you in the back, knocking you completely to the ground. You stifled a scream as you felt the sting of the blow.

“You're not as strong anymore, are you?” She asked before wrapping her body in her green beetle armor.

It had improved quite a bit since you broke it with your fist, as not even Uraume's stalactites could pierce it in their brief confrontation the night before. With that on, she already had your death assured. She was about to prove to Sukuna that she wasn't a weakling after all. She was going to fight for that comfortable life you had and the love of the king.

Spending so much time with him, she felt his unconditional love growing more and more. The way he spoke only to her with that challenging tone, looked at her from head to toe, grabbed her tightly and got closer to her body every time they practiced a fight. He was a real man compared to the idiots she has met throughout her life. While he worked on his documents, she wrote him little love poems in her room that she would recite to him at their wedding. Every night, she rolled around in her bed as she imagined the king on top of her, fantasizing about him making her his until the sun came up in the morning. She woke up so wet that she only wished the next night would come soon.

Yorozu kicked you as she laughed out loud at the tremendous happiness that invaded her body, taking advantage of your weakness for having lost your weapon. You could feel Sukuna’s cold look of disappointment, while your only defensive move was to curl up into a ball like an armadillo. You had no chance of winning anymore, this was your end point. You were going to die here. You had a few good last months of life before your sister was about to take them from you. You cried quietly so as not to give your mortal opponent the benefit of hearing your last cry.

“I’m sorry. I have failed you, father, mother, Nanako, Mimiko, Mrs. Inoue, king…” you thought heartbroken as Yorozu exchanged the knife for a sword. “Once you learn, the song will sound more beautiful than you can imagine,” you thought of that day when Sukuna played the piano with you, when he slept with you, when you played chess. You wanted to have more moments like that with him, but that wouldn’t be possible. “I never learned,” you resigned yourself as you opened your eyes slightly while feeling the wrath of Yorozu’s heavy foot. You saw numerous servants in front of the window, watching the beating they were giving you, but you focused on Mrs. Inoue, who was crying while shouting words at you that you couldn’t understand.

“Thank you, Mrs. Inoue, for teaching me many things,” you thought of the year you spent together. In the good and bad times, in health and in illness, in the long days and the endless nights. You had also disappointed her, I wish you could thank her from the bottom of your heart for being her friend despite being so many years apart. “Don’t be silly, girl. You have everything it takes to be a true queen!” You remembered immediately, as if she had slapped you across the face to make you come to your senses.

Yorozu wielded the sword to cut off your head in a single movement, but you stopped it by grabbing it by the edge, cutting your hands deeply. Even though you had a leather glove on your dominant hand, the sword sliced ​​through your skin all the way to the bone. You bit your tongue to keep from screaming in pain as the sword bathed in your blood. Yorozu struggled with you so that the sword reached your neck, but you focused on her wrists. You kicked her wrists despite the muscle pain so that Yorozu would let go. As soon as Yorozu stepped back, you got up as fast as you could and grabbed the sword with all your willpower to hold it despite having injured hands. You wiped the tears from your eyes, but ended up staining your face with blood as you heard the cheers of the servants. That gave you the push you needed.

“Are you really that desperate to be the queen?” Yorozu scoffed.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” You asked her. “None of what I warned you about entered your hollow head? This is how things are in this castle. If I could go back to my quiet country life, I would in a heartbeat,” you announced to her in a voice rough with pain.

“You’re not serious, do you really want to go back to that dump?” Yorozu asked in disbelief.

“It’ll stop being a dump once I take you out,” you answered with a dry smile. Yorozu growled in response before creating another sword for herself.

The air was tense, charged with skin-tingling anticipation, as if the world itself held its breath. Long, sharp swords flashed in the dark afternoon sun, reflecting the steel that was being readied for the final battle. Both of them charged into combat. The first movement was sudden, an explosion of speed and clumsy clashes. The metallic sound of the swords clashing echoed in the air, like a powerful thunder before the storm. The sisters moved gracefully despite their clumsy feet, their bodies flowing from one attack to the next in a deadly ballet.

Your hands bled more and more each time you gripped the sword tightly. Your weak body could barely defend itself from the immense power your sister had, despite having a hole in her shoulder. You stared at her neck as you moved the sword clumsily. For some reason, you couldn't stop looking at that specific spot. It was as if your body was begging you to do it. You wanted to look away to focus on the fight, but your dense concentration didn't allow it. Yorozu, seeing in your gaze that you were lost in your mind, swung the sword backwards with a cry of pain to cut off your head in the middle of a movement. As soon as she raised her arms, you came back to yourself as if you had suddenly woken up. "Now!" you thought before swinging it at your sister's neck.

The spectators gasped as they saw how in a single movement you cut off your sister's head and both arms. A cold chill ran down Uraume's back as they witnessed it. They quickly reviewed the fight they had had with Yorozu the day before, they were one hundred percent sure that the swords Yorozu could create weren't that strong. If they couldn't cut through a piece of dry ice, they couldn't cut a human being so easily. "She... She has something..." they thought worriedly.

Your sister's incomplete body collapsed against the grass next to a waterfall of blood that bathed you completely. You lowered the sword as you breathed heavily. You were starting to feel dizzy, as if you had been hit by heat stroke. You dropped the weapon as you looked at your masterpiece. Your own little sister torn apart by your own hands. You carefully removed your leather glove to see how your hands had ended up, as if you had no idea what you had done. The cutting sheets fell open, allowing you to see that you were only made of flesh and blood like everyone else. You backed away from the body, staggering from the dizziness. You turned around to fall to your knees against the grass to throw up the strawberries you had eaten for breakfast. Looks like those strawberries wouldn't be yours either.

You looked terrible, worse than in the morning. Your face was covered in blood, your hands were wrecked, your dress was covered in your blood, your sister's blood, and vomit from having your sister's blood on you. At least, the colors of those three viscous liquids matched the red dress. You had cried so much that you felt like your eyes had dried up, so you decided to scream until you felt your vocal cords burning. Your sister didn't deserve a minute of silence like your father, she deserved to hear all the pain she had caused you with her incompetence. Your screams broke the wind that filled your lungs, scaring the crows from the trees.

“Fuck you, Yorozu!” You screamed from the depths of your soul. “I just wanted to take care of you, you jealous bitch! Nothing was good enough for you! Not our life, not the neighbor, not King Gojo! You had it all and yet, you decided to go for the worst option! Stupid whore!”

Sukuna watched you suffer, but something wasn't right. Seeing people suffer has been the biggest reason for his happiness in the millennium he's been alive. He thought that seeing you suffer would be the most rewarding thing in his life, but it wasn't. That great heaviness returned to his chest, as if he was about to jump off a cliff. It physically hurt him to see you in such a vulnerable and heartbroken posture. He gulped to try to deal with his pain, but that wasn't enough. Even though he loved watching you, this time he had to refrain.

You broke the helmet of the armor with the sword to reveal your sister's face. Her black eyes looked at you without any trace of life behind them. Your trembling fingers closed them, feeling the softness of her eyes to your touch. You brought her closer to your body to hug her while you brushed her long hair between your fingers.

“I'm sorry... I really didn't want it to end like this, seriously,” you whispered to her. “Say hello to dad or mom for me and our little sisters…,” you said before realizing what was most important now. You growled, getting upset with your sister again. “Damn, I can't say anything nice to you because now I have to clean up your messes,” you told her before taking off your dirty dress to stay in a corset and white bottom to present yourself before the king as clean as possible.

“Are you okay, my king?” Kenjaku asked him, worried.

“Yes…” He answered quietly. At the strange tone of voice, he cleared his throat. “Yes, better than ever. Plan B worked perfectly,” he answered with his usual strong tone.

Sukuna's plan originally came about as soon as he accepted Yorozu into the castle. He had only accepted her as his servant, and then apprentice, to eventually use her as a hostage to push you to kill some of the servants to save her life. The plan fell apart when everyone started to get fed up with her, except you. That's when plan B came in, that you would kill your sister for the sake of others. You were no longer a pawn, but you weren't a queen either. You were a tower faithful to your sense of justice that couldn't be easily knocked down.

"Actually, plan A would have been more fun to enjoy. This plan ended up being a bit sad, don't you think?" Kenjaku asked him, examining his face, which was downcast from the spectacle.

"My king, the lady is approaching," Uraume warned him as he watched you approach the group on the bridge.

Sukuna turned around to face you, but his heart began to beat like crazy when he saw you up close. Your hair unruly against the wind, your eyes red from anger, blood caking your face, your white clothes bloodied, your hands holding the head of a terrible opponent. Your hips moved subtly as you marched fiercely towards him. His cheeks reddened at the thought of the idea that his future heirs would emerge from there. He wanted to fall to his knees in front of you as he looked like a terrible tyrant who would do whatever it took to expand his kingdom. You looked exactly like he wanted you to look at his side. God, he couldn't wait to propose to you.

He reached into his pants pocket to take a small box he was carrying for the moment when you offered him the head of your victim. He was about to kneel immediately, but you did it first. You placed your sister's head in front of you before hiding your face in your aching hands. Sukuna didn't understand what you were doing.

“My almighty king, I bow before you to beg you to let me leave the castle,” you announced between tears.

“What?” Sukuna, Uraume and Kenjaku answered in unison.

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[thedelicatearcher]

baths with finnick odair

this is a little nsfw!!

after a long day at the market, you decided you wanted to take a bath with finnick. your body ached to have him so close to you intimately and to be in his embrace.

“honey,” you said to him sheepishly, “can we take a bath together?” his answer was a warm smile as he grabbed your hand and took you to your shared bathroom. slowly, he started to undress himself, teasing you and flexing his muscles to try and get a reaction from you.

“finn, stop it,” you scolded him in a playful tone, “just let me do it for you,” were your words before sliding his undershirt off him. your next task was to unzip his pants and take them off for him, but you noticed he was making you do all the work, looking down at you with a mischievous grin as you tugged down his pants and boxers until they were stuck around his ankles. 

“your turn, sweetheart,” he said as he started undressing you, gently pulling your shirt off and your shorts too, giving sweet kisses to the exposed skin. his kisses trailed down your skin, going from your sternum, to your tummy, and ending right above your underwear. he stopped himself before pulling it down and stood up from being on his knees in front of your body. he finished off by cradling your face with his hands and giving you a soft kiss, pulling away to start the bath.

he ordered you to sit still while he started everything, making sure the water was warm enough like you always like, pulling out some cherry-scented candles you bought at the market, and bringing the book you’ve started reading together. after that, he grabbed your hand and led you to the bathtub, holding your hand steady as you lowered yourself  into the water, and he followed after, humming softly when he felt the warm water on his skin as he made himself comfortable behind you.

this is one of your favorite moments with finnick. him behind you, his chin on your shoulder, occasionally nuzzling his nose to your neck, tickling you, and his arms holding you tighter in his embrace to stop you from squirming. a long time was spent like this, enjoying the comfortable silence as you leaned back in his strong embrace, appreciating the feeling of your bodies against each other and relishing in it.

your usual routine when you take a bath together isn’t always the same, usually holding each other still for a good twenty minutes to relax from the day, and then washing each other, taking time to massage the other’s scalp with shampoo and gently rubbing their skin with soap.

sometimes, you can’t get enough of each other, your hands can’t seem to separate from him. you position yourself in his lap, not caring that the water is overflowing and leaking out of the bathtub. you run your hands across his hair as you desperately kiss him, his lips feeling like the much-needed water in a hard drought, tongues tangling while you unconsciously grind yourself on him. finnick is just as desperate, his hands spread on your back as he tries to bring you even closer than humanly possible, your skin on his relieving the aching on his hot, scalding body. 

other times, your body aches too much and you just want to feel your muscles relax as finnick reads you a book. his strong arms around you as his soft voice recites the words your imagination starts to picture. today is one of these days, and as he reads you the fantasy book you’ve been reading together for some weeks already, you can’t help but imagine the both of you as the protagonists, hoping to be in a different world where you can love each other so passionate and freely without the tyranny you live under right now.

when your skin starts to wrinkle after spending a long time in the water, finnick decides it’s time to get up. he stands up and gives you his hand to carefully help you out of the bathtub. he already has two towels ready to dry yourselves and put on some clothes to go and make dinner. but he won’t go to the kitchen to prepare dinner until you brush his hair, not wasting an opportunity to feel pampered by you. soft hums escape his lips when you comply and gently brush his hair, and that’s when you know that you don’t care what life throws at you as long as you can have these domestic moments with finnick.

[starsreminisce]

The panting young man was so … human-looking. Handsome, brown-haired, blue-eyed, but … human. Solidly built beneath his light armor, tall—perhaps a mortal ideal of a knight who would swoop a beautiful maiden onto his horse and ride off into the sunset.

If this was how Feyre described Graysen, then it seems like Elain does have a type. How amazing that Lucien was described as a knight in the same book before meeting Elain.

Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow. Like stalks of wheat in a wind, the others fell to their knees as well. For in all of her preening ceremonies and rituals, never had Ianthe revealed any sign of power or blessing. But Feyre Cursebreaker, who had led Prythian from tyranny and darkness … Blessed. Holy. Undimming before evil. I let my glow spread, until it, too, rippled from Lucien’s bowed form. A knight before his queen.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES *  assorted dialogue from the novel, adjust as necessary

don't feel bad for one moment about doing what brings you joy.

be glad of your human heart.

has anyone ever taken care of you?

i heard you scream.

i figured that would get you to stop crying.

stop? don't pretend you care, human.

what is that bruise?

before you start yelling...

do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?

i'm tired and lonely, and you're the only person i can talk to without putting myself at risk.

you can leave if you're just going to insult me.

i would have been gentle with you, though.

pity those who don't feel anything at all.

when i kill, i do it slow.

killing is easier in pants.

i didn't want to consider what the punishment might have been.

we're too powerful, too bored with immortality, to be checked by anything else.

i wanted you everywhere. i was drowning in that need.

i don't particularly enjoy losing, so i took it upon myself to become good at them.

what's it doing?

why are you telling me this?

i don't think it's absurd at all.

remember the last time you ignored my warning?

fear no evil.

would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here?

i might die of surprise. you made a joke, [name].

your hair is... clean.

when the legends get written, i don't want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines.

look how you're trying not to cry out in terror.

i didn't want you to fight alone. or die alone.

you don't hold on to power by being everyone's friend.

each of us has a beast roaming beneath our skin, roaring to get out.

against slavery, against tyranny, i would gladly go to my death, no matter whose freedom i was defending.

i love you. thorns and all.

for someone with a heart of stone, yours is certainly soft these days.

we need hope, or else we cannot endure.

i threw myself into that fire, threw myself into it, into him, and let myself burn.

you look... better than before.

it's a rare day indeed when someone thanks you for bringing them to their death.

if i offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss too?

you humans are truly grateful creatures, aren't you.

well... goodbye for now.

you didn't ask.

the answer to the riddle is love.

you don't look half as bad now.

everything i love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.

i wouldn't want to die alone.

you didn't need to bargain with me.

how am i to blame?

the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress.

what have you done to me?

do you ever stop being so serious and dull?

make it go away.

i'd prefer not to wear that dress.

do you ever stop being such a prick?

i would have taken a very, very long time.

i'd want someone to hold my hand until the end, and awhile after that.

you didn't tell me this would happen.

your human joy fascinates me - the way you experience things in your life span, so wildly and deeply and all at once is... entrancing.

i'm drawn to it, even though i shouldn't be, even when i try not to be.

there was nothing that could slow me down.

i don't know why i feel so tremendously ashamed of myself for leaving them.

all those years... what i did for them... and they didn't try to stop you from taking me.

you might have gotten away with it.

i came to claim the one i love.

i hadn't thought of it as a weakness until now.

[thefirstknife]

My grimoire arrived and I'm in shambles. Partners in Light, aka a grimoire focused on Ghosts and Ghost lore. Ghost Stories is in here, and Lucent Tales. Luna's Lost as well, chosen lore tabs about Targe, Ophiuchus, Drifter's Ghost and Glint. There's a whole section about Sagira, which includes the entirety of Immolant and has destroyed me. Some stunning art from the book:

Ghost rezing us for the first time (this one was also recently posted by the artist)! Also yes, Thin Line lore tab is here as well. Next, from Ghost Stories, Cyrell the Ghost Hunter and YES, GHOST COMMUNITY THEATRE ART:

Eris and Brya (I'm in shambles), Zavala and Targe, Ikora and Ophiuchus:

Drifter and his Ghost (specifically the scene where he's dying of starvation, as you'll notice the scorpion by his feet, from here. Thank you for this emotional destruction):

The first Vanguard squad (portions of The Pigeon and the Phoenix are included), as I do believe the Hunter is supposed to be Tallulah, based on the fact that you can see The Bombardiers, her exotic pants (also I believe the bow on her back is Tyranny of Heaven, with lore of how she died):

Crow and Glint from the lore when he visits Venus:

I already posted the other Crow and Glint art because it was posted officially by the artist, I really can't wait for the rest to also be posted digitally because they're absolutely incredible. There's also more art in there, I only posted a few.

[globalrebrand]

The Marriage of Music and Alchemy: Chapter Two

Warnings: None!

A/N: Posting from AO3.

~ After some distractions, Ace remembers his initial plan. | 5.7K Words

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III

That night, there was little time for Ace to discuss the plan as he intended, as he had “accidentally” pilfered a piece of tart from the Heartslabyul kitchen, which set off a chain of events that consumed him and his friends for the next week. Then an impromptu ghost invasion threw the campus into chaos for a weekend, and for whatever reason Ace had to do all the heavy lifting and could barely focus on his classwork as a result. So after a few weeks of catch up it was nearly the inter-dorm  spelldrive tournament.

In all honestly, Ace had quite forgotten about his plan to get his teachers together until Grim asked him what it was he wanted all those weeks ago once things finally cooled off for a bit. It was a random Tuesday afternoon but it reignighted Ace’s spark. After all if he could convince Riddle to chill out with the tyranny that means he could probably do the same for Crewel, and maybe like Riddle under all of that haughtiness and demanding nature, there was an injured little boy with mommy issues. 

So he pleads with the Ramshackle duo to come by that evening and hear him out regarding his brilliant scheme. 

After dinner, Grim and Prefect make their way to Heartslabyul to hear whatever scheme their friend is cooking up. Deuce opens the door with a wide smile and ushers them in happy to host the Prefect in his room. “Do you know Ace is planning?” Grim asks Deuce over the Prefect’s shoulder. 

“No, clue,” the teen replies. 

“Ace, what’s all of this about?” The Prefect asks, already dubious of his intentions, as they cross the threshold of the dorm, carelessly dropping their bag by his desk and crossing their arms over their chest as settle on the plush card-shaped rug by the foot of his bed. 

Deuce moves to sit next to them, freshly showered and no longer in uniform, but in a pair of navy sweat pants and plain gray t-shirt.  The day is nearly done, the room is cast in a warm glow of waning sunlight. Their other dorm mates, Quinn and Decker, are also in the room, a rare occurrence, but they keep to themselves, studying on Quinn’s bed, the dangling cord of headphones linking them as they flip through their assignments. They offer the Prefect a modest wave before returning to their work. 

Ace takes up his post on the side of his bed, leaning forward dramatically to gaze down at his friends. His brown pinched and expression stern. 

“Something must be done about Professor Crewel.” He begins, seemingly serious. 

“You want us to off the Professor or something?” Grim questions with a tilt of his head. Quinn’s wide brown eyes snap to Ace with deep concern. 

“Grim! No, and you two mind your business!” Ace comes to his knees on the rug, shuffling closer and lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. 

“Aren’t you sick of Crewel’s overbearing teaching style?”

“Yes! He’s a demon.” Grim whines.

“Grim, what are you talking about?” The Prefect cast a glare up to the pouty cat loafing atop their head. “Crewel is exceedingly kind to us,“ the Prefect begins, “…in his own way,” they amend shortly after. 

While he’s not the warmest nor cuddliest, Crewel is one of the Professor’s more sensitive to their outsider status. He not only knows that they’ve essentially been stranded in a foreign land with no loved ones, resources, or support system besides an egotistical cat (who, in a few short weeks, they have admittedly grown fond of) but tries to offer aid where he can. Whether is be passive listening after class or even a bit of financial support. The Prefect was, of course, highly suspicious when last week he asked Crewel had asked them and Grim to clean his car, only to find it was already nearly spotless, inside and out, but as payment, Crewel gave them 50,000 thaurmarks, almost three times the amount of the paltry monthly allowance the head mage offers and for far less work. 

Ace rolls his eyes at the Prefect, “sellout.” Thankfully, the middle finger was still a deeply offensive gesture in Twisted Wonderland, so threw one Ace’s way. 

“Deuce, come on, you’re sick of it. I know you are, after last Thursday when Crewel-”

“HEY! We don’t have to relive it.” Deuce sighs, embarrassment warming his cheeks.  

“Besides, it was my fault, and a lot of the teachers at school are…intense. Crewel’s no different.”

“We’re definitely the problem.” The Prefect admits as Deuce nods along sagely. 

“No, we are not the problem! Crewel’s behavior goes far beyond just an intense teacher,” Ace rebuts. 

“Don’t you both see what’s happening here?” He implores, focusing his attention solely on the Prefect, “Deuce and Grim not getting it makes perfect sense, but you?”

“Don’t lump me in with him!” Deuce and Grim shout in nigh-perfect synchrony.

“Ugh, out with it, Ace!” The Prefect implores. 

Settling back on his haunches, effectively catching the illumination of the lamp light from Decker’s desk. He pauses in preparation to make his big push for what admittedly is a ridiculous plan. 

“Guys, Professor Crewel is obviously a deeply lonely, bitter, aging bachelor who’ll become the carbon copy of his probably heartless, tyrannical father if he doesn’t find love.” Ace pleads before turning around and sending a terse scowl towards Decker and Quinn as they snicker amongst each other on the other side of the room, quickly quieting the two boys but doing little to convince them what he just said wasn’t utterly absurd. When he turns back to the frowned-up faces of his friends, it seems as though they aren’t buying what he’s selling either.

“Ace…what?” Deuce questions, his eyes narrowed with incredulity as if he’d just heard the dumbest thing on the planet.

“That’s incredibly specific.” Grim mumbles. The Prefect stands abruptly, sending Grim tumbling to the plush carpet with a hiss. 

“Ace…” They pause, dragging a hand across their eyes in exasperation. “Suck it up. Come on, Grim.” They gesture, and Grim deftly hops on the Prefect’s shoulder as they turn to walk to the door.  

“Wait!” Ace cries. Shit , he was losing his would-be co-conspirators. 

“I know it sounds wild, but what if we got the Crewel together with the new musicology professor?”

“What? Professor Bellamy?!” Deuce questions. The Prefect halts their steps, a hand hovering above the doorknob.

“They clearly have chemistry,” Ace adds as if that were perfect justification to go meddling in the affairs of adults. Especially scary adults like their homeroom Professor. 

“Are you insane?” Deuce replies. “Besides don’t even know if she’s single! Or Professor Crewel.” 

“He doesn’t wear a ring, and neither does she,” Ace reminds them, pretending to be the authority on his Professor's personal affairs. 

“Sam was complaining just the other day about how he spends his money on vintage cars.” Grim pipes up, having turned on the Prefect’s shoulder so that he faces the boys, his tail waving in his henchman’s face.

“No self-respecting wife would let her husband spend so recklessly,” he decides resolutely. The Prefect crinkled their brow at the little beastie’s words, confused about how he’d come to such a conclusion, but Grim isn’t wrong, they suppose.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Grim gets it.” Ace gestures excitedly. Grim leaps from the Prefect's shoulder and darts back to the rug, returning to Deuce’s side. 

“Of course I get it!” Grim declares proudly, puffing up his chest. “You forget who the brain of the operation really is.”

At that, the Prefect rolls their eyes, turning around simply to narrow their eyes at their obnoxious companion. 

“How do we even know he- you know, likes, um, ladies?” Deuce asks bashfully.

“You saw them that first day of class when she passed the paper.” Ace reminds the group. 

“Didn’t seem like anything special to me,” Deuce argues. 

“Of course it didn’t, buddy.” The Ace agrees with an insufferable patronizing grin on his face.

“HEY! Prefect back me up.” Deuce turns to implore them for support but finds the Prefect deep in thought by the door. 

“Hey…what are you thinking?” He quiets. 

“Yeah,” Ace adds, “Do you know something we don’t? You’ve been awfully quiet,” turning on the Prefect, he pulls them off their feet and pushes them to sit in his desk chair, dramatically shining the pivoting desk light in their face.

“Don’t shine that light in my eyes, asshole.” They grumble. 

Undeterred by the insult, Ace simply says, “ Spill .”

“It really nothing,” The Prefect tries to demure, throwing up their hands in placation, “…but just this morning, when I came into the music room, the Professor was all alone, playing a sad little song. When I asked what was wrong, she confessed she was feeling down because, and I quote, she’s “almost 30 with prospects.” 

Professor Bellamy also said…other things about how her last relationship was a dumpster fire because she dated her brother's business partner, and well, she didn’t say he cheated, but the Prefect could read between the lines. Regardless, Deuce and Ace didn’t need to know that part, but well, Crewel is nurturing and supportive, with good husband traits. 

However, another thing they wouldn’t tell Ace and Deuce was how Trein mumbled something about Crewel being “committed to dying alone for the sake of ego.” And while the Prefect admits such criticism doesn’t exactly make Crewel sound like spousal material, they would argue his actions say otherwise. 

“Ok, Crewel is stern, but he does seem to really care about our development and safety. I don’t think he’d make a bad husband, per se...”

“Woah, who said anything about marriage, I just need Crewel off my back for now.” 

“Ah, and the truth comes out!” Deuce accuses with a pointed finger, which Ace just brushes aside, uncaring carelessly. 

“Whatever, if Crewel gets a girlfriend and chills out, everyone stands to benefit if they get married, great! If not, as long as they stay together like three years, I don’t give a f-”

“How did you ever have a girlfriend?!” The Prefect interrupts. 

“Hey, I know more about love and relationships than you and Deuce for sure . Sometimes things don’t work out, and that’s just the risk we run.” He punctuates the statement with a nonchalant shrug. 

“That’s so selfish, Ace, not that I’m surprised.” Deuce resigns himself, leaning back against the side of the bed, his head hitting the mattress with a gentle puff. Deuce's eyes close momentarily, but he ultimately decides, “If we’re committing to meddling, we have to see it through! Besides, they better get married if they’re dating for three years.” 

“So you admit it! You agree with me, we should get them together,” Ace’s grin grows wider, becoming entirely too self-satisfied. 

“Kinda, but not for your selfish reasons.” The Prefect corrects, and Deuce nods in agreement. “I genuinely think they could make each other very happy.” They confess softly. 

They deserve to be happy, Deuce affirms.

“And Crewel’s just a few short years away from becoming a washed-up old bachelor. This may be his last chance.” Grim adds. The Prefect mumbles the feline’s name in exasperation. 

“He can’t be that old…can he?” Deuce rebuts, clearly trying to calculate Crewel’s possible age. 

“Whatever, so you’re in?” Ace tries to confirm. 

“You’re desperation is showing,” Grim mumbles, mid-climb, settling on Ace’s desk next to his henchman. 

“Grim! Ass off my papers.” In blatant defiance, Grim settles atop Ace’s open alchemy textbook. Ace is prepared to start a full-on war, but the Prefect cuts him off. 

“Ugh, I guess, but let’s be careful, okay?” They finally relent. “I know you don’t care, but these are real people with feelings, Ace. I just don’t want either of them to get hurt.”

“We’re doing a kindness. Professor Bellamy gets to be with a handsome, smart, and probably rich dude like Crewel, and she’s obviously smoking hot, smart, and talented or whatever, so Crewel wins, too. Honestly, we might be saints.”

“Now you sound like the head mage,” Deuce cuts at Ace with a bored look. 

“Whatever. Deuce, are you onboard?” After several long moments, Deuce agrees.

“Fine. I wouldn’t want them to be lonely, and if the Prefect thinks it's a good idea…”  

“Yes! I know just where to start, but first, we’ll need to enlist some help.” 

_______

Apparently, Ace felt that the best person to go to was Cater since he was a notorious gossip who always sticks his nose in everyone's business, and for whatever reason, Cater found this flattering. And was more than happy to help his beloved freshman with their little plot. “For funsies,” he said.

It took a few days, but by Friday night, using time that would have probably been better spent studying had been devoted to extensive research about their professors.  The venue had now changed to Cater’s room since Quinn and Decker couldn’t be trusted with sensitive information. A slide presentation was created, copious amounts of surprisingly abundant internet information compiled and titled, “Project B + C = A’s for All.” Ace thought himself quite clever for it, the others less so. Using an old ruler stolen from the math department, Ace points to the screen of the laptop propped up on Cater’s desk, the first slide with a photo of Professor Crewel on one side and a picture of you on the other pulled up on the wide screen of Deuce’s bulky but wide old computer. Beneath to photos were pictures of your class schedules and bullet points of info taken from the internet. 

“What we know.” Ace begins, pointing to the picture of Crewel.

“Crewel is one of 4 siblings, the middle child, all sisters.” Smaller photos of each of Crewel’s family members appear under Crewel’s portrait.  

“Which is good because he knows how to treat women,” The Prefect chimes in. 

“Or he resents them all deeply,” Cater adds, “Not that I do or anything, we just have to account for both sides.” The Prefect sends Cater a dubious sideways glance but otherwise returns their attention to the presentation. 

“Moving on….his great-grandmother founded one of the largest fashion houses in the Queendom of Roses.” A picture of the brand label appears across the screen, and next to it, a gif of a duck in a red hunting coat diving into a pool of gold coins. 

“He and his siblings stand to inherit 5 trillion thaumarks, the combined fortune from his mother, who is now the head director of the brand, and his father, who is an investment banker.”

“Crewel’s raw stats look pretty good. Good looking, rich, what else could a woman want?” Ace argues. 

“So so much more,” the Prefect rubs their temples. 

“More realistically, would they approve of Professor Bellamy?” Deuce asks, “People that rich tend to try only to marry other ultra-rich people. 

“I think so,” Cater reasons. “The internet says her father is a well-known opera singer, and her mother is a lawyer, so she comes from a good family, too.” 

“I don’t know, guys. If his mom married an investment banker when she was already a trillionaire, I don’t think they’d be very accepting of the Professor.” Deuce suggests.  

“You forget the Professor is like a famous classical musician, she makes a good amount of money, millions wouldn’t surprise me. Trust me that should be elitist enough for them.” Ace points out.  

“Ace is right,” Cater chimes in, “I guarantee if I came home with someone like the Professor, my parents would tell everyone at the Tennis Club, then if we ever broke up…well…”

“Well, what?” The Prefect prods.

“ My mom would probably go on like a smear campaign about how she’s like a serial cheater or something to save herself from the embarrassment of admitting I fumbled the bag with their perfect future daughter in law…

“Well, that’s concerning. Do all rich people think like this?”

“ We wouldn’t know.” Deuce replies dryly.

“Pointless details and hypotheticals. Now, let’s get to what we don’t know.” Ace flips the slide, which is broken into two categories: Daily Routines & Ex-Lovers, both of which are blank. 

“Ok, I think learning routines is the most important, the ex-lover's bit is just Cater being nosy.”

“Hey-” Cater objects.

“Yeah if we can find out their schedules, we can figure out how to get them to cross paths more often.” Deuce reasons.

“I will say that between Deuce and me, we should be able to get Professor Bellamy to tell us her daily goings-on.” 

“Wait,” Ace interrupts, “you, I get, but Deuce?” 

“Deuce is one of her favorites.” The Prefect replies nonchalantly. 

“She said that?!” Ace raises his voice in disbelief, and the Prefect promptly shushes him. 

“I’m a teacher’s favorite!” Deuce exclaims loudly, his chest puffing up with pride. 

“Well, no, but she mentions often enough that she appreciates his ‘determination’ and ‘dedication to self-improvement.’” 

“Wait over me? I take all of her classes!” Cater argues, clearly offended.

“I don’t think it’s in any order, but probably. Apparently, Deuce brought her a hazelnut croissant, and now she thinks he’s the best thing on the planet.” Ace mumbles something about that being ridiculous, but Deuce is all too content to know he has at least one teacher in his corner. 

“Anyway, Deuce and I can just ask the Professor about herself because she likes us most. But with Crewel…I can’t imagine it would be that easy 

“He’s notoriously tight-lipped with students.” Cater acknowledges, “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Sounds like you have to stalk him.” 

“Grim, I’m concerned all of your impulses are just committing crimes.”

“Well, how else? Crewel’s not gonna just share everything with us!”

“Cater can just use a clone and sneak out,” Grim offers.  

“Yeah, but how will he not get caught by Crewel? Subtly isn’t exactly his thing.” 

“I can be discreet…when I want.” 

“Wait, Ace, don’t you have a basketball game Wednesday evening?” The Prefect asks.

Didn’t know you pay attention to my schedule so closely.” Ace smirks leaning almost nose to nose with the Prefect, who promptly bats him away, but theres an apparent dark flush to their cheeks. 

“Fuck off, I just meant to say that you and Cater can break off after the game and go see where Crewel goes. 

“Ok, sure, but how will find him?” Ace asks. 

“Bribe the office clerk.” Grim proposes without a hint of hesitation. 

“Grim again, straight-up crime.” The prefect chastises. 

“We could always ask Azul…” Cater suggests. 

“Azul?” Deuce questions. 

“He’s the housewarden of Octaivanelle, normally I wouldn’t trust him, but this is a pretty benign ask, so he should ask for anything too crazy.” Cater speaks mostly to himself before popping up to say,  “I’ll ask him since I’m an upperclassman, spare you froshes the burden.” The first years thanked their senior in unison.   

With the sun well below the horizon, the group then decides to break for the night, their objectives clear, next week, they would hit the ground running on plan “Project B + C.”

______

You realize belatedly that complaining to a student about being single was rather embarrassing, but ever since you turned 27, it has really been top of mind, despite knowing that being married isn’t everything. By all accounts, you have had many accolades and experiences that others who sacrifice for marriage could only dream of. 

However, you couldn’t help how you felt. For so long, your career was the priority, and well your last relationship combusted spectacularly sometime ago, and the dates you’d had since had left you feeling demoralized. Your older brother, an alumnus of Night Raven College, had initially discouraged you from taking the position, but when you explained how much you’d missed being a musical prodigy, he seemed to quiet his protestations. He only advised that you be wary of the eccentricities of the students and faculty. 

You had just given the first years a musical theory exam, and while you didn’t think that grading would be quite so intensive, here you were an hour after classes got out, still marking up tests. 

Distantly, you hear a measured stride approaching the room. 

“Professor Crewel?” You call out. 

“I was worried you were still here. There’s a storm on the horizon you should head out, you walked today, didn’t you?” 

“Oh no.” You bemoan quietly. Glancing out the window you indeed see a cohort of sinister-looking storm clouds approaching the island. You should have checked the forecast. Or at least started keeping an umbrella in your desk drawer. 

“Do you need a ride? I was just heading home.” With a flourish, Crewel flashes a set of keys, his gray eyes crinkling with warmth. 

“My savior.” You cry. 

While you weren’t quite finished with your work, you would hate to pass up a chance to get to know your colleague better. “I mean, if it's no imposition,” you demure, feeling a little embarrassed by your enthusiasm at his offer.

“Of course, I only suggested it because I want to make sure you’re home safely.” Crewel asserts. Not wanting to keep him waiting,  you quickly tidy your belongings into your bag. You tell Crewel that you’ll need to stop by the teacher's lounge to grab your jacket and he agrees and gestures for you to lead the way. 

The building had a tendency to feel a bit menacing at night, but with Crewel by your side the dark, looming architecture and cavernous halls felt less intimidating. 

You must admit you’ve grown to admire your colleague quite a bit. He always speaks so frankly, and you quite admire him for it. So many people toy around with boring small talk but Crewel never wastes your time with drivel. Conversation flows easily between you and frequently veers off course to the intellectually rigorous subject matter. You’re certainly no expert on the sciences, but Crewel’s work intrigues you, and he seems to find your work in music equally compelling. 

“Professor, I have a question for you,” Crewel hums in acknowledgment, the rhythm of your steps against the stone creates a sweet little tune paired with the melody. You’d have to write it down later.

“Please don’t get the wrong idea, but are the boys educated about the dangers of love potions?” 

“My youngest sister is studying at a magical academy for girls and was telling me about a recent lecture they had to sit through.” You admit to him you weren’t aware of the dangers since you didn’t have a formal magic education. Magic always came second to music, and your abilities were almost exclusively supplementary to your musical talents. You could make a quintet of clones and change your clothes, but your special ability was your voice, you could manipulate anyone to do anything so long as you sang the instructions. While you didn’t pursue opera like your father he had gifted you with some pretty nice pipes. Combat, however, was completely beyond you. 

“The science department has a similarly mandatory lecture, but students aren’t required to take it until their second year. Regardless, we don’t teach students how to make love potions anymore, it's far too risky.”

“When you were a student, were they on the curriculum?”

You’ve just finished grabbing your coat from the lounge when you and Crewel run into Professor Trein. As the two of you make eye contact, you offer him a warm smile, then gently outstretch your hand to Lucius, who nuzzles your palm affectionately, as you whisper, ‘ Hi precious ,” completely unaware of the subtle scowl breaching your companion’s features.  

“Unfortunately, Professor Bellamy, love potions were indeed on the curriculum, despite my many protests when Professor Crewel was a student, but he caused enough trouble for the poor young ladies of Foothill Town without them.” 

“Oh, I bet he did.” You cast a teasing grin at Crewel only to see he’s not remotely amused by his colleague's commentary. 

“Were the two of you just leaving?” Trein questions. He, too, is clearly ready to depart for the day.

“Ah yes, Professor Crewel kindly offered me a ride.” You mention Crewel huffs, you look over to see a pout settling on his plush lips. It’s terribly cute. 

“How thoughtful of him.” Trein praises before asking to join you, but his smile has taken on a slightly pompous air. “I seem to have forgotten my spare umbrella.”

“You seem like the type to always plan for the weather.” You remark with a bit of surprise. Trein was always so impeccably polished.

“I appreciate your confidence, yet even I cannot predict the weather,” Trein replies, but his eyes are focused on Crewel, clearly pressuring his former student to provide him with a ride home.

“I walked as well.”

While you’re unsure of what the particular tension was between Crewel and Trein at this moment, you weren’t blind to their seemingly long lived feud. You would hate to upset Crewel by offering Trein a seat in a car that wasn’t yours, so you give space for him to respond, but after several long moments, he says nothing, only a scowl towards his former teacher, who matches his gaze with an equally hostile gaze. 

“Professor Crewel?” You prompt him for a response, feeling that far too many moments have passed by. In the darkened halls of the school building, both men look quite menacing, with intense shadows making their refined features look impossibly sharp.  

“Of course, Professor Trein,” Crewel replies, he’s out of your sight line, but you can here the glower in his tone. “Where are my manners?” He adds facetiously. You see Trein fight and nearly lose the battle, not to roll his eyes.

Trein gestures for Crewel to lead the way, sidles between the two of you, and begins to ask about your day, which turns into a broad conversation about your first couple of weeks, but Crewel’s mood has noticeably soured. 

A short and increasingly tense walk later, Crewel leads you both to a stunningly beautiful luxury car, a lustrous black gloss contrasts with a cognac-colored leather interior, and the hood ornament twinkles in the lamp light of nearby street posts. You don’t want to question how Crewel is able to afford such a nice vehicle, but the question is top of mind. For all of his very apparent faults, staff compensation wasn’t one of the issues at NRC. You felt that you were quite well compensated, and while your salary was now half of what it was when you worked at the Fairest Philharmonic as Concertmistress, it wouldn’t be difficult to make up the difference with the occasional solo performance. However, even if you could not dream of owning such a car, it was easily worth one year of your former salary. 

Between his immaculate wardrobe and this car, it was becoming plain to see that Crewel’s pockets ran quite deep. 

Out of respect for your elders, you offer Trein the front seat, much to Crewel’s chagrin, but you felt it would be inappropriate to force Trein to shuffle into the backseat. Besides, you were the first stop, it would only be ten or so minutes to your home.  

____

Crewel and Trein never saw eye-to-eye, and if they ever did, it would be a sign of the apocalypse, Crewel reasons. Crewel thought his professor was many insufferable things, fussy, pedantic, inflexible, overly traditional, the list goes on, but never did he think Trein would stoop so low as to be a cockblock. 

While Crewel was quite content to finish the car ride in silence, he even pondered just turning the corner and forcing Trein to walk that next few blocks home in a downpour, it appears his former instructor had other plans. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you're doing, Divus,” Trein accuses tersely.

“Old man, you mistake me for someone who cares about your disapproval.” Crewel sighs, already exhausted by the argument they haven’t even had yet. 

“But since you know everything, tell me exactly what it is I’m doing.” Crewel takes his eyes of the road for a moment to toss Trein a nasty scowl for good measure. 

“So you mean to tell me your intentions with our new colleague are completely innocent?” Trein questions.

“Whatever my intentions are, it's no business of yours.“

“Protecting Professor Bellamy from your unbridled lust is most certainly my concern!” Trein interjects, and Lucius chimes in with an emphatic meow as if to second his master’s point. 

Crewel nearly slams on the breaks. The tires make a horrid squeak on the wet roads, and Lucius nearly jumps to the ceiling of the car interior. 

“Unbridled?! Really, Trein, do you think that low of me?”

“Over a decade , I’ve intercepted far too many a sobbing conquest at the gates of this school do answer that with anything less than an emphatic yes. You’re a wanton, remorseless rake.” 

Ahh, yes, Crewel was well aware of his reputation. It seemed he would never escape it. He only prayed you didn’t take Trein too seriously when “If you're going to call me a slut, just say it, Trein, no need to sugarcoat.” 

“Divus, don’t be crass. Just be careful. The headmage spared no expense to convince Professor Bellamy to take up her post. I would hate for your fickle attentions to dissuade her from achieving a lengthy tenure.” Crewel didn’t dignify such a critique with a response, only pulling to the curb and unlocking the car doors. 

“Oh, look, your home. You can get out now.”

Trein exits the car but not before delivering a final disapproving glare. Crewel fights the urge to  

As Divus begins to route himself to his apartment, he sighs to himself. In truth, he is a bit embarrassed by his past ‘brazenness.’ He was rather careless with his lovers, but he didn’t know what other way to be. Love wasn’t the most abundant resource in his childhood home. Power and control were the preferred tools of his parents, not warmth and affection, and for a long time, he had believed it too. That love was about control. About what other people would do for you, how you could use their affections to enrich yourself. 

Crewel knew for a long time that his approach to romance wasn’t quite right, but he was far too prideful to open up, to allow someone else to teach him what his parents couldn’t. And he certainly would never tell that to that pinched old man. 

In realizing that his past romantic dealings were woefully unsatisfying, Crewel promised himself that he would seek a real relationship, one not predicated control but rather crafting a life with a partner. He realized what he wanted was an equal, but then again, who could possibly be his equal? He was convinced that there was no one in the world who would be sufficiently refined, witty, stylish, and charming enough to meet his tastes. Even with past partners, he never thought they were quite enough . 

But then you appeared to him. Just as he was begging the universe for a chance to find a match to meet his extensive criteria, you appeared. Truthfully, he didn’t know if you possessed all of the superficial qualities he thought he was looking for, all Crewel knew was that when he first met you and questioned if you knew what you, this seemingly warm, profound, benevolent and perceptive soul, were doing at this school for highly talented but notoriously twisted young mages. You merely scoffed and quickly let him know he’d made a mistake in his judgment. “who’s to say I’m not a little twisted myself?” You’d said, a mischievous grin curling across your pretty lips. 

It certainly wasn’t love, not yet, but Crewel knew then that it wouldn’t take much for him to fall for you.

Series Masterlist

[frostytherobot]

These men hate each other so much. I have a feeling Rich decided to leave red letter media due to Mike’s UNFORGIVABLE and HORRIBLE TREATMENT of his best friend for 30 years. There’s no way there’s another reason why Rich Evans hasn’t shown up in videos recently, for perhaps personal reasons that aren’t anybody’s business but his own. Nope. It’s just because Mike Stoklasa is an ABUSIVE CLOWN. He’s like The Joker. When he was 4 years old something Very Very Bad happened to him on the Bozo Show. He didn’t get picked to throw bean bags at buckets. And now? Because of that single incident, Mike Stoklasa has taken upon himself the personality of an evil clown who abuses his friends on camera for comedic effect. This is in conjunction with his other personalities, Drunk Uncle at the Super Bowl Party and Guy Who Won’t Shut the Fuck Up About Star Trek. All three personalities working in conjunction has made this man a Dictator and a Menace to society. He has taken his heel to perfect Angel Rich for far too long, taken him for granted and used his silly laugh for clicks one too many times! I bet Richard William Thomas Evans III doesn’t even like Star Trek or Ghostbusters. He has been held hostage by Michael Stoklichael for 30 years, and now he’s finally Free from the tyranny. However, I fear that now that Saintly Rich Evans has taken his leave, Mikeliacci is going to lash out at Jay Bauman next, perhaps by calling him Susan or making a silly comment about how short he is yet again. Perhaps he will call him a pervert for liking horror movies more often than normal now, or pants him on camera. I pray for Jay’s safety and hope he can banish this clown demon back to hell where he belongs. And then he can finally take that trip back to Walt Disney’s World and break another limb on the teacups ride.

— Krebs Gorlon

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Our love is god (modern!Heathers JD type!Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

synopsis: High school is hell. Truly. However, the one person you think will finally make it better, only makes it so much more worse.

warnings: angst, making out, death, murder, faked suicide, sexual abuse, physical violence, gun violence, afab reader

word count: 6.4k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall, @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

King´s Landing high school. Your own personal hell as you liked to call it in your journal. You really thought joining forces with the devils that ran it would help you get through it, but all it did was make things harder. You left your real friends and unpopularity behind for a seat at the same table as the Baratheon sisters, only to help them bully the rest of the school and focus on your looks and parties more than anything else. You dreaded seeing them every day. Floris wasn´t as bad you had to admit, she was nice. A cheerleader, but in the end she still participated in her sisters doings. Cassandra was a more devout follower. The year book committee and the boob job that mommy paid for made her think she was more than she actually was, but even she couldn´t reach the tyranny of their sister Maris. She truly was a mythic bitch. Drowning in your thoughts, one makes its reoccurring return. College will be paradise if you´re not dead by graduation.

From the side you could feel an elbow get rammed into your ribs painfully.

“Ow. What´s your damage, Maris?” You spit out the words while rubbing the sore spot on your side.

“Stop whining. You are going to go to the big frat party with me this weekend. You should be thankful.” Just hearing her tone made you want to punch her in the boob or something. Gods, you couldn´t even think straight.

“Yay, great.” You can barely hide the sarcasm in your faked excitement.

However Maris doesn´t get the chance to say anything about it as right in that moment a commotion breaks out in the back of the cafeteria. With your old friends you would have been able to just ignore it, but with the Baratheons? No chance. The four of you turn around to see Cregan Stark and Qyle Martell harassing a student you think you have never seen before, which is highly unlikely as literally everyone here had been to kindergarten, elementary school and middle school together. Despite not recognizing him, you feel an immediate yet inexplainable attraction towards him. The whole ethereal beauty that he had going on was really working for him. So much so, that when the bickering stops and a gasp rolls through the cafeteria as the stranger pulls out a gun, you aren´t even that deterred. In fact you think it´s kinda funny how the two jocks pee their pants at being shot with blanks. They deserve some push back to their constant bullying.

But even that little moment can´t lift your mood long enough to get you over the party. When Maris picks you up in her dad´s way too expensive car you already feel like sending her away again. On the other hand you might as well end your own social life then. No.

“And don´t forget the corn nuts!” Maris yells after you as you walk towards the convenience store on your way to that stupid frat party.

“Plain or bbq?” You yell back.

“Bbq!” You get your answer in the middle of the door.

Rolling your eyes so she doesn´t see it you make your way through the store grabbing the snacks and looking around until you almost run into someone.

“Oh, sorry I didn´t look where I was going.” You take a step back feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment as you recognize the stranger from school.

“It´s okay… You know, I´m not the biggest fan of your friend either.” He says as he grabs some snacks himself.

“What?” His statement catches you off guard quite a bit.

“I watched you… Today during lunch and how you rolled your eyes at her.” He explains as if it is nothing.

“You´ve been watching me?” You ask surprised, but with a smile on your face. “Should I be flattered or scared?”

"A little bit of both maybe?" He leans against one of the shelves. Putting on a half smile himself. A very handsome one at that. For the first time you really study him. The way his silver hair flows past his shoulders. The intense look of his right eye and the scar above his left one. The sharpness of his cheekbones, nose and chin. Until your eyes stick to his lips. Those perfect, pink lips with the sharp cupids bow.

"I can do that..." You whisper more to yourself than the lean person in front of you.

That's when the penetrating sound of a car horn and Maris screaming your name pulls the two of you back to reality.

"Better run quick. Your friend is waiting." He teases as you make your way to the Cash register. Your name rolling of his tongue in the most promising manner. Promising what? That is what you wanted to find out.

“I should.” You sigh. “But before I go… Since you know my name, it´s kind of only fair to tell me yours, don´t you think?”

“Aemond. Aemond Targaryen.” He finally introduces himself and upon hearing his last name you remember him distantly. You had talked to his sister Helaena once or twice a few years ago.

“Well, it was nice meeting you Aemond Targaryen, but I have to go appease the will of a high school tyrant now…” You shoot him a wink and get back to the car as quickly as possible.

The party, much like you thought, is a total bust. The music is complete shit, the alcohol is cheap and Maris leaves you alone to do god knows what with some frat bro almost immediately. Leaving you alone to be harassed by his friend. It all together gives you a major headache and so you leave at the first chance. Walking home still is a better option than having to bear this any longer.

You arrive there late, but the fresh air helps the headache. To your further luck, your parents are already asleep so you can go to your room directly. Writing out all your frustrations in your journal.

While you do so there is a tap on the window. Jolting out of your seat, you see Aemond standing there.

“Greetings and salutations.” He says as you open up for him to come inside. An invitation he takes instantly. “So how was the party?”

“About as good as one would think…” You scoff, closing your journal as you turn towards him.

“Ah… I bet your presence was missed greatly.” He says, the words dripping with sarcasm and making you laugh. I was nice to really laugh for the first time in a while. The two of you talk some more and somehow end the night cuddled up naked under the blankets. Remnants of both of your juices sticking to your thighs as you talk about gods know what. You honestly can´t pay much attention. Yet even post nut clarity couldn´t give you the realization that he just found out where you lived and came in through your gods damn window. Probably because his kisses kept your mind far away enough from reality.

“Maris Baratheon is one bitch that deserves to die.” He sighs.

“Killing her won´t solve anything. I say we just grow up be adults and then die.” You reply in a quiet tone. Your faces so close to each other that there is barely even an inch between you. Perfect to pull him in once more. Locking your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

The two of you fall asleep soon after. A tangle of limbs and your head tucked under his chin, on his chest. However when you open your eyes again you are alone. The only sign of Aemonds company the previous night being your own nakedness and a few marks he had left on you that would be easily covered up.

The real shock comes when you get back to school on monday. Meeting up with the Baratheon sisters as every morning, you are surprised to see only Cassandra and Floris. Who look tired. Well, Floris looks tired and quite sad. Cas looks as unbothered as ever, if not a bit happy.

“Where did you leave Maris?” You ask coming to a stop in front of them.

“Didn´t you hear? She killed herself two days ago…” Floris reveals with a quiet voice. Your heart sets out for a beat at the news.

“Yeah, where have you been all weekend?” Cas adds.

“I- I don´t know… I´m sorry for what happened with your sister. You put your sunglasses back on and leave them to find Aemond.

“Hey.” You great him with a small peck.

“What is going on? You look like someone just died.” He remarks, pulling you close to him and placing another peck to your cheek.

“My best friend just killed herself.” You murmur.

“Don´t you mean your worst enemy?” He replies with a small grin.

“Same difference.” Still bewildered by the happenings of this morning, you shake your head and then go to class with Aemond.

Only to learn then that you would all get a half day off. A half day seemed to be fairly less for a student just committing suicide in your opinion, especially one as influential as Maris, but then again she also enjoyed more fame than during her life. So at least she couldn´t complain. You felt a bit bad for entertaining that thought. Then again with how many lifes she had ruined...

Going to school after that was even worse for weeks. Everyone was romanticizing Maris´ reign of terror, Cassandra silently took over what her sister had started, or at least tried to and you? Well, you only ever got away from it all when you spent time away from it with Aemond, who seemed surprisingly chill, if not smug about the bully being out of the way. The two of you get closer quick during that time. He is the most understanding boyfriend you could have ever wished for. Even his few quirks are cute. Yet he keeps his darker sides safely tucked away from you. At least for now, he vows himself. Who would have known it could get even worse.

When you enter the school building the next day, everyone is staring at you, talking to their friends in hushed whispers. At first you assume it was the usual whispers, but when Cas comes up to you, you quickly get taught better.

“You little bitch. I never knew you were that kind of person.” She says with a wide complacent grin firm on her face.

“What are you even talking about, Cas? What the hell is going on here? What is everyone talking about?” You hiss. Gripping Aemond´s hand slightly, who seemed just as confused as you were. Though he was more successful in concealing his feelings.

“Shouldn´t you know what you did? “ your supposed friend feigns innocence. It really makes you want to slap the holier than thou look off her face.

“Just. Tell. Me.” You make sure to put emphasis on every single word.

“Qyle and Cregan are going around telling everyone you blew them.” She holds her hand in front of her mouth to hide her giggle.

Without another word, you stomp past her. Running around the next corner, where Aemond stops you.

“Hey. Hey! Angel, where are you going?” He questions. Holding you by the shoulders.

“To those stupid… fucking…” You let out an undefinable sound of frustration. “They may get away with harassing the all the girls of this entire school, but not me.”

 “You have to take a breath and calm down.” He says in a low voice as to not attract any more attention.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” You seethe, but at least you stop marching through the mass of other students.

“Calm down.” He reiterates. “I already have a plan.”

Right in that moment however the bell rings signaling the start of first period. And it is pure horror. The whispers all around you echo in your head even when it is entirely silent. Teachers drone on and on about topics that you couldn´t get less of a shit about. Cassandra and Floris arent´t any help with any of it either of course. With how nice Floris tended to be it was easy to forget who they were sometimes. Time stretches endlessly until you reach home. Sitting down on your bed, you wait for the telltale sign of Aemond coming over. By now the knocking on the window doesn´t even startle you anymore. The opposite is the case. Whenever you hear it, your heart instinctively skips a beat. Just like it does now.  You open the window and watch Aemond hop inside. Greeting him with one, two, three little pecks to the lips you pull him to the bed with you by the lapels of his leather jacket. Barely separating from him as you do so, you grin against his lips at the way his large hands grab your hips to pull your body close to his.

“I missed you so much.” He hums against your mouth between kisses.

“We haven´t seen each other for two hours.” You giggle. Running a gentle hand over his chest as the fingernails of the other massage his neck.

“I know and it felt like an eternity.” Aemond all but growls against your neck. Biting it lightly, before sucking a mark into the supple flesh.

You let out a trembling whine at the tingling feeling his lips chase down your spine. The needy sound followed by an amused chuckle from him.

“So, your still out for revenge?” He growls against your neck.

“Yes.” You answer just a bit more breathless than before.

“Good.” Aemond pulls away from you and throws two guns beside you on the bed. Startled by them, you jump back. Looking at the blond, who returns it with a smug expression.

“Aem, I want to pay them back not murder them!” You shriek, settling down a good bit away from the weapons. He on the other hand is eerily calm.

“Do you take german?” He asks as he sits down and takes your hands.

“French.” You answer still on edge.

“These are `Ich lüge´ bullets. My grandpa stole a shitload of them in WW2, they´re like tranquilizers. Only they break the surface of the skin enough to cause a little blood.” Aemond explains as he dumps a handful of bullets between the guns.

“So… It looks like the person has been shot, but really they are just unconscious and bleeding?” You ask just to be sure. The sight of the weapons made you feel all kinds of bad.

He nods. “We shoot Cregan and Kyle, it looks like they shot each other and by the time they regain consciousness, they´ll be the laughing stock of the whole school.”

“And what is that for?” You point to the folded paper that lies between the bullets.

“That is the cherry on top. A fake suicide note. Painting the whole thing as them killing themselves, because they knew they would never be accepted for being a gay couple.” Aemond snickers and you have to admit that the plan in all it´s simplicity sounds pretty good.

Taking your phone you send a text to Cregan. Luring him and Qyle into the woods behind the school under the guise of wanting to have a threesome with the two of them. Knowing full well it would get them where you wanted. Throwing your phone to the bed with a nervous giggle, you feel Aemond crawl on top of you. The weight of his taller frame pushing you into the mattress as his lips find yours again.

When you enter the woods and Aemond kisses you one last time, before you hide your gun and he goes to hide in the trees, your whole body trembles with uncertainty.

“Hey, Dollface.” Cregan greets you.

The two guys come to a stand about five feet away from you. “So, how are we gonna start this?” Qyle adds to his friend. Wasting no time as always.

“I thought you two could start by undressing for me.” You flutter your lashes at them, voice like honey in their ears.

“Okay.” The two of them say in unison. Nodding before they all but tearing the clothes of their body, stripping down to their boxers. The three of you count to three and right as they want to rip off the last piece of fabric down too your plan sets in action. Aemond jumps out from behind a nearby tree, the pair of you whip out the guns and aim for the half naked and afraid boys. Aemond hits Qyle right in the chest and he drops to the ground right where he stood. You are less lucky, missing Cregan by only an inch. He turns to see his friend lie on the ground, in a growing puddle of his own blood and makes a run for it. Your heart starts pounding in your chest even harder than before, if that even is possible. Threatening to break out of your ribcage as you watch Aemond´s face contorts into a grimace of anger.

“Shit! You stay here, I´m getting him.” He barks, chasing after a screaming Cregan.

It´s silent where you remain alone. Making you wonder what is going on. In the same breath your eyes fall down to Qyle´s body. The blood still pools underneath his body, prompting your thoughts run off the rails with crazy theories.

It isn´t until Aemond chases Cregan back to you, where he finally shoots him as well. The burly body flopping to the ground like a sack of potatoes. With horror you see your worst theory come true. They are both dead. Aemond killed them. And you helped him. A scream leaves your lips and you throw the weapon in your hand away on instinct. Clasping your hands over your mouth as the shock seeps in.

“No. No, no, no, no.” You mumble more to yourself than anyone else really. You are frozen to the spot you are standing in and if it were up to you, you would fall to your knees then and there. But Aemond takes your hand and pulls you away from the crime scene.

You don´t come to until you are in his car, in front of your house. You feel empty, detached from reality. Your body functions on autopilot. Putting a cigarette into your mouth to even somehow try to cope with the stress of what you had just become witness to. However when you lift up the lighter, the flame licks at the skin of your palm instead. You let out an agonizing scream and tears immediately shoot into your eyes at the white, hot pain.

The funeral a week later is a rough one. Even rougher than Maris´. The way the Septon plays up the gay martyr part is unbelievable. Aemond´s presence by your side doesn´t give you any comfort any more either. You can barely look at him anymore. Over the course of the past days your mind had started to come back from what lead you there, but it also distanced itself from him. Only able to see that side of him that he had hidden so well. All you want to do is hide under your blanket for the rest of your life, instead you have to sit in that gods forsaken sept, feeling sorry for Floris and Sarah, Cregan´s half-sister and your ex best friend, who seem to be taking this the hardest. You knew that Floris and Cregan, despite him being a total goon, had been kind of on and off for a while. The two of them didn´t deserve this. Fuck, the bad conscience was eating away at you, making you nauseaus. Of course, Aemond is entirely calm. Not letting a single soul see behind the carefully strung up curtain. Even though you imagine to see the same small smug smirk in his face again that he had expressed while explaining his plan to you all those days back.

Repressing the urge to run out of the sept, you pick at the skin around your fingernails until they bleed.

Once the service is over, you get onto Aemond´s motorcycle and let him drive you home. No matter how hard it is to keep holding on to him and not dissociate the whole ride. Your mind makes up then and there, that this has to end. You have to end this.

That night when he comes over, you sit him down.

“We um… We need to talk.” You mumble. Still not meeting his eye. He had already noticed your inability to do so since that day, but until now he thought you would catch yourself again after an initial shock. A mistake he noted mentally to never do again.

“What do you want to talk about?” He feigns ignorance, though he full well has a perfect idea of what you want to talk about.

“I… We… I can´t do this anymore, Aemond.” You stammer out, your leg trembling under his hand that rests on your thigh.

“Cannot do what anymore, Angel?” His one seeing eye rests on you as intensely as ever.

“This. Us. I thought I could cope with what we have done, but I can´t. I can´t look at you like before anymore. The sight of their… bodies… still haunts me in my dreams.” You try to find the right words to express your feelings and still it feels like the severity of them doesn´t come out right.

“You can´t be serious about that.” He faltered. Despite having a feeling about what you were gonna say, he still feels floored by it. His heart hurting at your words.

“I am. I never wanted this. “ Your voice hardens as you get more confident about your decision.

“You wanted this too. You said you wanted revenge.” Aemond insists.

“Yes, I wanted revenge. I did not ask for this. Two people are dead!” You try to get through to him. To no avail.

“You didn´t seem to mind much when Maris died.” He blurts out. It´s entirely in the heat of the moment. And he regrets revealing it to you like that, but it is out nonetheless.

“What?” You shriek in response. “I thought Maris killed herse…”

The thought of the fakes suicide note for Cregan and Qyle enters your mind and you hide your face in your hands, fighting back the tears that sting in your eyes.

“Please just leave…” Your voice comes muffled from behind your hands. Opting to leave your face buried in them as you speak the defeated words.

“Angel, I am not just going to leave you. We can talk about this.” He takes your wrists in his hands and pulls them down to your lap.

“What is there to talk about? You killed three people!” You pulled your arms away from him, but his grip was too strong.

“Yes, but I did it for you.” He argues.

“How was any of that for me?” Your voice drips with disbelieve.

Aemond comes closer to you until he whispers against your lips. “They hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you.”

Then he presses his lips to yours roughly. His tongue pushes into your mouth forcefully, stunning you into an overpowering inability to act, as he pushes you against the headboard. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, making you cry out in search for help or to get him to stop. Just something, anything to make him stop. It takes several more moments for your brain to return to the situation, but once it does you start struggling with all your might. Biting his lip and kicking him away from you, finally sets you free from his assault.

“I want you to go. Now.” You say quietly but with as much certainty as you can put into your voice. He turns around and leaves. Surprisingly without another word. Yet your body stays on edge until long after he is gone.

Your arms wrapped tightly around your middle, you shiver from your nerves processing everything that had been revealed and happened. Unable to really cope with it yet. Despite not having really liked them your friends where dead and only the gods knew what Aemond would do next.

That night you get haunted by him in your dreams.

You find yourself in the Baratheon´s dark kitchen. Aemond in front of you, looking for a knife. For some reason you know Cassandra is going to be his next victim. Yet, no matter how hard you try to speak and keep him from going through with his fucked up plan, you can´t. Not a single sound comes from your lungs. With panic you watch as he grabs a dirty knife from the dishwasher and goes into Cas´ room. In the complete dark you can´t see exactly what he does, you can only see the world go dark around you seconds later, feeling like you are falling into a bottomless pit, you wake up with a gasp. Sweat soaking your pillow and your chest heaving with short heavy bursts of breath while your heart threatens to break out if it. You know you have to stop him, before what the dream is foreboding becomes reality. He is incalculable, dangerous and whatever he does end up doing next, can´t happen under any circumstances. You spend the whole day trying to make out a plan, not paying attention to any of your teachers or Floris and Cassandra. Not a single idea your brain comes up with is good enough to work. Luckily it also makes you ignore the weird looks your friends are giving you over your unresponsiveness.

Saying goodbye to them when they drop you of in the afternoon, you plan to head to your room immediately. A plan that is thwarted by your parents, who await you in the living room, worried expressions on both of their faces.

“Darling! We need to talk to you for a moment.” Your mother speaks up first. Seemingly relieved to see you alive and well.

“Sure, what´s going on?” Your mind is still half busy with Aemond when you put down your bag in front of you.

“Aemond just dropped by. Saying all these things about how we should look out for you, that he was worried for you…” Your mom´s voice is shaky as she recalls on the memories of what had happened so shortly before you arrived.

“Did he say something else?” You say passively. Inside you are boiling already. Who does he think he is?

“He said you confessed some rather alarming urges to him. That you shouldn´t be left alone with sharp objects or… or that kind of stuff.” Your father holds your mother a little tighter to calm her down again. You truly feel sorry for them. How could they know that what they have been told was as wrong as it possibly could have been.

“I´m sorry… But I´m not… That´s not true. You know I´d talk to you if there was anything going on.” You assure them.

You try to spend more time with them, but once your parents start to believe you, you make your way back to your room. Your mind is finally made up on what to do. If talking to him wouldn´t help to get him to stop killing, maybe you could shock him into it. Hopefully. He did used say, that the extreme always makes an impression. Taking your bedsheets you tie them around your body in a way that allows you to make it look like you had hung yourself. For once it would come in handy that he had never stopped texting you. Hurrying to get done before you hear that accursed knock. Tipping over the chair you use in your preparations mere seconds before he lets himself in. No matter how much you want to move or even at least open your eyes, you force yourself to stay calm. No matter how unfamiliar the air under your forcefully relaxed feet feels and your lungs hurt from the flat breaths you can allow yourself at most to take. Blissfully unaware to the gun hidden in the back of his pants, with which he planned gods know what. While he doesn´t move or breath or speak for a short moment. Frozen in a shock not deep enough to hold him for long.

It seems you have underestimated his crazy. Mentally you curse yourself out aggressively so that you almost miss him beginning to speak to you.

I can´t believe you did it.” He says in a breathy tone and you can hear his hands slap against his thighs as if he had raised them in defeat beforehand. “I loved you. Sure I was coming in here ready to kill you, but… I at least would´ve wanted to tell you about this petition the whole school signed first. Of course they don´t know what they really signed up for, but that won´t be any of their concern anymore soon. Oh Angel, it´s a shame you don´t get to see this play out anymore. I have the perfect plan. During pep rally on Friday the whole school is gonna come down and everyone in there with it. Listen to this. We, the students of King´s Landing high, will die. Our bodies will be the ultimate protest against you. A society that churns out slaves and blanks. Fuck you all.”

He was even further gone than you would´ve thought or hoped. “It´s not very subtle, but a school blowing up, that´s big. The kind of big that infects a generation. The only place Baratheons and Snows can get along is in heaven. We could´ve united them together, you and I… you left me no choice. So I will do it alone if I must.”

By now he is breathless from the passion that is no doubt not only in his voice but also his heart. The clicking of a lighter registers over the ringing of sheer panic in your ears, followed by the faint footsteps and mumbling of your mother. Aemond is quick to sneak back out the window and you are just about to open your eyes back up and take a deep breath, when the door opens behind you and your poor mothers scream can be heard throughout the entire house.

Hurrying, you untie the bedsheets with shaky hands, hurting your knees in the process of falling to the ground, but you don´t care. All you care about is getting to your mom. Hugging her weak, sobbing form to your body as tightly as you can. Soothing her as best as possible, but the damage has been done you guess and you really can´t blame her. If you would have been in her place you wouldn´t have reacted or felt any other way.

“It´s okay, mom. I´m okay, I´m still here. It wasn´t real.” It´s safe to say, that after all of that you don´t sleep well. Or at all really. How could you after Aemond has told you what would happen next. You want to stop him, feel like you have to stop him, even more so now that your plan has failed so miserably. If anything you´re under the impression of having worsened the state his soul is in.

For two whole days you have to watch school go by without anything out of the ordinary happening. Which just makes the bad feelings in your gut swirl even more intensely. Yet, at the same time, there is a strange calm inside your mind. There certainly, realistically, is very little you can do to keep Aemond from doing what he wants to do. But at least if, or rather when, you go down on Friday, you don´t go down by being by Aemond´s side, watching the smoke pour out the doors. Making s´mores over the burning remains of your dead school mates. This was sick. A whole parade of red flags. A perverted power fantasy, that you can´t believe you didn´t notice before. In those days you have more people than you are willing to count come after you, questioning how you are still alive. How did the stupid rumors always spread the fastest and furthest?

The poor guidance counselor is who almost suffers from you losing your nerves over it, on the day of. You are quick to apologize as well though.

“I am so sorry, I´d be glad to talk about this another day, now I really have something more important to do.” You let the man behind, that still opens and closes his mouth like a fish on land.

Marching through the masses of students on their way to the gym. Scared shitless, but still determined to put an end to this if you can. It was high time you pulled your shit together anyway. Finding Aemond in the boiler room, he is already busy setting up multiple explosives.

“Hey!” You pull his attention away from the dynamite.

“Greetings and salutations. Come to change your mind?” He inquired.

“No. Never! Gods, how delusional are you to think that anyone would join you in this madness! You are no better than your mother.” You take another step closer to him. The venom in your tone gets him to stay silent for once. However he still doesn´t stop fiddling with the bombs.

“Put that down, slowly and then put your hands behind your head.” You put your hand in the pocket of your cardigan to grab your fathers hunting knife in case you´d need it. Pulling it out you earn a genuinely amused chuckle, then everything goes too fast for you to react properly. Aemond kicks the weapon out of your hand, letting it slide out of your reach, and knocks you out with a few , for him very simple, movements. Sinking to the ground you barely stay conscious long enough to see him walk further into the basement of the building. Fuck. The already quiet sounds of the pep rally become even more quiet over the dull thudding in your head and then darkness claims you.

You don´t know how long you have been out once your eyes open again. Thankful for the low light of the rooms you are in, you tumble towards the direction you saw Aemond leave in. Holding on tightly to the wall or anything you can find to keep the dizziness from knocking you off your feet again. Too busy to hear your scuffling steps, you can grab the gun he had brought and laid down beside himself.

“I said put it down… and hands behind your head…” The sentence is broken up by your heavy breathing.

One of his hands shoots to the side to check for the missing gun. Raising them over his head almost immediately and turning around to you slowly.

“Angel, come on. You know you can´t shoot me so why don´t you just put down the gun and join me? I´m giving you one last chance.” His tone is still smug, but you can hear a hint of fear shine through the overconfidence.

Scoffing, you shake your head at his inability to even now be real with his feelings. “Just turn off the bombs.”

Behind his eye you can see his brain mulling over every possible outcome to this situation. Surprising you, by complying to with you have just said. Putting his hands behind his head, the feeling of the imminent danger of the situation subsides from your system and you finally hear the voices from upstairs again. Having had enough of talking you wave for him to go outside with the gun, which you hold safely in both hands. Due to everyone being still in the gym and none the wiser as to what was going on not too far away from them. In front of you Aemond pushes the big front doors open for both of you to step outside.

Standing still, he turns to you again. Eye half closed and so close to you that if either of you were to move, your lips would most definitely touch.

“You know what you need to do now.” He murmurs. The way his breath fans over your face so warm and for a moment you feel set back to the beginning of your relationship. When everything was still okay or at least as okay as it could be.

“I don´t want to have to do it.” You whisper back.

“There is no other way to end this anymore now. I am far too damaged, but you are not beyond repair. Please… Stand back now. You know it had to end this way. No matter how much you wished it didn´t.” Aemond takes a step back himself and stretches his arms out to the side.

You take a deep breath and as you take a step away from him remind yourself of everything he had done and wanted to do. Looking up at him you ask him in a voice void of emotion.

“Any last words?”

“I worship you. So much. I´ll trade my life for yours.”

With a heart heavier than it should be, you point the gun back at the man who you had thought was the only one to ever truly understand you. Then, before your brain can have the chance to think twice about it your actions, you pull the trigger.

The shot rings in your ears long after it is over. The sight of Aemond falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes, filling you with a great void of nothingness. Still you stay there for a few more minutes. Lighting yourself a cigarette and waiting for that atrocious ringing to stop. A part of you still hopes to wake up and have all of this be a nightmare, but you never wake up and the cigarette is entirely done. So you throw the damned thing away, drop the gun on Aemond´s lifeless body and get back inside where everyone is flooding the hallways.

Ignoring Cassandra´s comments and protest, you march past her, taking Floris by the hand and walk over to Sarah who is sitting alone on the stairs.

“Ladies, there is a new sheriff in town. And the way I see it, all three of us are still free tonight. So, I propose we buy snacks and watch movies at my place all night.” You say with a conciliatory smile.

The two girls look happy about the suggestion. About as happy as they can look under the given circumstances and together the three of you decide to cut the school day a bit shorter and go now.

[darkk-academic]

Ides of March

[The Umbrella Academy x Reader]

Summary : The assassination of tyrant Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

Warning : Stabbing. Lots of it.

Beware the ides of March.

Fortunately for all Hargreeves siblings and you, Sir Reginald Hargreeves had ignored the warning.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, who is currently standing in the middle of the living room, whistle in hand, ready to start training.

Diego, next to you, nudges your shoulder, silently urging you to tell Five to start the plan.

Gaze locking with Five, standing in front, 'Now' you mouth.

"I want to time travel," Five says, loud and clear.

Attention successfully diverted, Viktor—positioned behind Sir Reginald—subtly pulls out a dagger from his pant pocket.

The daggers, seven of them, are custom made for this occasion, specifically.

"Number Five, this is not the time for your asinine dramatics." He fixes him with a stern stare.

"But I want to, I'm ready," Five argues.

Sir Reginald's body turns in his direction at his defiance.

It's all the distraction you guys need.

Viktor in a flash launches forward, thrusting the dagger to the hilt into his back, blood spurting, splashes his face, but he doesn't flinch.

"This," he hisses, twisting the knife, "is for every single time you belittled me, for every moment I spent in that cage, for everything you've ever done to me." He steps back, breathing hard.

Before Sir Hargreeves could say anything apart from the slight gurgle at the back of his throat.

Allison with a dagger and Diego with a knife, are stepping forward.

In unison, they stab him on the chest, not directly to the heart no, of course not, just above, near his collarbone.

"This is for everything you've done to me, to us, for pitting us against each other," Allison murmurs, a cold glint in her eyes.

Jaw clenched, Diego curls his fingers around his Father dearest's throat. "For putting me down every chance you got, making me hate my brother, for all this rage you gave me, how does it feel to have a taste of it?"

Sir Reginald sways on his feet, "Pogo," he chokes out.

Pogo isn't gonna come, you think, he's out buying bleach to get the stains of your blood off this carpeted floor, Reggie.

Klaus and Ben step forward as Allison and Diego come back.

"Hey pops," Klaus chirps. A vicious smile curling at his lips. "I'd rather tell you why, y'know, before you go all dizzy with pain. So this is happening cause you're a shit father and an even shittier man." Glancing at Ben, he raises a brow. "Ben? Wanna do the honor?"

Ben nods. Not hesitating once, he jabs the dagger into Sir Reginald's gut.

"It's funny," he remarks, sounding almost detached. "How the merciless monster you tried to make me failed and yet, I don't feel an ounce of mercy right now. This," he stares him in the eye, "is for everything you've done to me, to us, for everything and more."

As soon as Ben steps back, in a blink, Klaus is stabbing him by the waist.

"For locking me with the ghosties you're soon going to join." Laughing, he pushes himself away, leaving the dagger in like the rest. "Oh and Pops? Don't haunt me."

You step forward next, twirling the dagger.

"I honestly don't have a personal grudge against you," you tell him, head tilting. "But you hurt them, and now I must hurt you."

Unfaltering, you push the dagger into his stomach.

"Man's greatest flaw," you quotes his own words, smiling, "the illusion of control."

Then, finally, Sir Reginald Hargreeves is falling to his knees with a groan.

Luther comes to stand in front of him.

"Nu-number…One…" Sir Reginald heaves out with great effort, "you too?"

"I love you, Dad," Luther professes. Piercing the dagger in the middle of his abdomen. "But not more than I love my family."

Sir Reginald starts to fall down—

Five jumps near him, hand gripping his nape, he stops him from falling.

"For my family," he says. With a cruel smirk on his face, in a swift move, the dagger tears through Sir Reginald's neck, directly piercing his carotid artery.

"Sic semper tyrannis," Five states, as you all watch Sir Reginald Hargreeves fall motionless on the floor.

A beat.

"A shower is in order?" Allison prompts.

Eyeing the blood you're all adoring, everyone murmurs in agreement.

………………………………………………………………………

A/N :

Lmfao saw the opportunity and took it.

"Sic semper tyrannis." Is latin phrase meaning "Thus always to tyrants." As in, "Tyrannical leaders will inevitably be overthrown."

A reader insert cause lets be honest, we all would want to take part in this.

It might not be too well written, but this one is yk a treat so anyways—

TO THE FALL OF TYRANTS!

Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤️

[invinciblerodent]

have you ever tried to draw a five-point Venn diagram

it is. how you say. difficult.

....anyway, this is better than my 5-minute thrown-together graph from last night, but even this isn't entirely perfect (I ended up needing multiple references lol and I didn't even put in ALL the named ones, but this is just where I'm gonna leave it, because I've been at this all last night and this morning.)

could this all be fully contradicted by Veilguard, or even just info that's already out and I've just been avoiding it to not get spoiled? possibly. If not very, very likely. (no spoilers, please.) But I've been thinking far too much about Dragon Age demons these past few days, and this is the kind of thought that needs to get out before it'd rot in my mind.

I've never seen anything like this before so I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, but I think it has already been said that Spirits (which are complex, often unique entities) fall some ways outside of this kind of classification- but I'd argue that individual Spirits can be closer, or farther away from being able to be assigned to a domain.

Demons are a fair bit simpler, more base creatures, and as of right now, the ones that we have seen can more or less be sorted kinda neatly into these categories.

I propose that, upon being corrupted by some outside force, the domain a Spirit was closest to originally, and the force that corrupted them, both could influence the kind of demon they become.

Like in my head, Love and Compassion lie a bit closer to the realm of Desire, and Command and Faith lie closer to Pride than, say, Hope or Wisdom are to any domain. But, they can all be corrupted in different, distinct ways: Love could turn to Jealousy, Hatred, and Betrayal, Compassion to Anguish, Disgust, and Resentment, Faith to things like Zealotry, Treachery, and Dismay, Command to Arrogance, Greed, and Tyranny, and all of them a bunch of other, potentially very different things, depending on their circumstances. Justice is sort of in the thereabouts of Pride, and upon being exposed to Rage and Despair for a prolonged time and in a very intimate way (though personal experiences outside of the Fade), it turned to Vengeance, while something like Hunger might have once been Joy or Curiosity.

Or something.

Idk.

This sort of helps me personally visualize things, like the demon that I have tormenting my Inquisitor at one point in my headcanon, Burden, is a pure despair demon who was attracted by the Nightmare (a pure Fear demon) and my Inquisitor's vulnerability to that due to his own anxieties (between Fear and Despair), but Purpose (the spirit I'm associating with my Rook Tristan) is a Spirit who would fall very close to the intersection between Pride and Desire. If it were to become corrupted (which it might!!), I think it would drift towards Rage, and become Obsession, as Purpose can be single-minded, all-consuming, and corruption for it would partly consist of shedding its aspect of Pride.

...... Also I don't much like how this thought could potentially imply space for the existence of a kind of super-demon embodying all aspects of all demons (shame the name Nightmare is already taken, I'm calling it YIKES for now), but I'll save that thought for another day.

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for March 5, 2018; #156.

Prurient & The Rita “Side A”

Russell Haswell “Coventry”

Ames Sanglantes “Clinical Chaos”

Aaron Dilloway “Inhuman Form Reflected”

Ex-Models “Buy American”

Muslimgauze “Azzazin (Untitled 6)”

Kazumoto Endo “Shinjuku Kahki Pants”, “14:18:45″

Maurizio Bianchi “Maidanek”

Bill Orcutt “Collective Action”

Total “The Very Witch Of Fuck”

V/Vm “All Night Long (Butcher All Night)”

Sightings “Black Peter”

Latrine Psychology Guild “Track 02″

Ryke “VII”

Trepaneringsritualen “A Black Egg”

Genocide Organ “I Don’t Wanna Die”

John Wiese “Decelerator”, “New Wave Dust”

Boredoms “Super You”

Killer Bug “Masked Porno Star”

Ramleh “Weird Tyranny”

Military Position “Poor Fools”

Sun City Girls “Fresh Kill Of A Cape Hunting Dog”

Pan Daijing “Sex”, “Come To Sit, Come To Refuse, Come To Surround”

G. Jupitter-Larsen & The Haters “War Of The Worms”

Brume “Untitled”

Con-Dom “How Welcome I Death to Who I Have Nothing More To Do Than Die”

Monte Cazazza “To Mom On Mother’s Day”

Lasse Marhaug “Feed Feel Pt. 2″

Death Squad “Kontrol”

Bonus noise broadcast.

[nametakensff]

Steve and Eddie- 💦🤬⛈

Thank you for the prompt, anon! ❤️ Here's just over 6k of these dumb guys being in love

E/ddie is in a grumpy mood and hoping that his date with S/teve will cheer him up - but a sudden rainstorm and bout of insecurity might get in the way of that

(I kind of based this after this fic and before all my others where they've been together for a while - I still need to write a fic about them getting together in this sort of AU I've gradually created - but you don't need to read anything else though, it's ultimately just snz porn 😅)

~~~~~~

Content: M/M, Established (but relatively new) relationship, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, pollen allergies, a LOT of mess (not too graphic but just in case!), blow jobs, cumming in pants, little bit of humiliation, just guys being dudes

CW: Just in case, characters feeling insecure about the fetish momentarily

NSFW, minors dni etc etc etc

“Heh-ENGXtchh!! NGXtchhh!! IGXT’chieww!! Ehdt’TCHIEWW!! FUCK, man…”

Eddie swiped under his nose for what felt like the fiftieth time since the start of this latest Corroded Coffin jam session. Gareth had closed the garage door for him in an attempt to fend off the offending pollen, but the damage had already been done – long before he’d even arrived, if he was being honest. These fucking allergies.

He pointedly ignored the somewhat wary round of blessings his bandmates offered. He was embarrassed as hell, normally able to stifle his hay fever into submission quite successfully if need be. He didn’t care so much about Gareth seeing him this way, not when he’d seen much, much worse over the years – but he didn’t feel like having a full-on allergy attack in front of anyone who wasn’t Steve right now, and even that was debatable. He cleared his throat and stood tall.

“Okay, second chorus, from the top!”

His voice broke slightly mid-sentence and he almost ground his teeth in frustration. This was a bad fucking allergy day. Normally he would have called band practice off with some half-assed excuse to avoid the aggravation. He should have learned about trying to suppress his sneezing for too long, especially after the recent humiliating debacle where he had what could only be described as a semi-nuclear allergic reaction at Steve’s house, in front of all his new friends. That everyone had been super cool about it, and that the discovery of his and Steve’s mutual fetish from that night had urged him to pursue the younger man, was irrelevant. He liked attention, craved it, but only if it was the kind that he cultivated willingly for himself.

Luckily, the sheer grumpiness he was experiencing today was somewhat working to curtail the inconvenient physiological response he was prone to after a consistent bout of sneezing. His cock was cowering away from him, not unlike the rest of Corroded Coffin, for which he was entirely grateful. Being in a bad mood still sucked - he took no pleasure in this moodiness. Tyranny was only fun if he was in complete control of his own emotions.

Gareth counted them in and they started up again. For about twenty minutes Eddie was able to forget his allergies and play for all he was worth. He’d been working on his vocals, trying his best to project from his diaphragm rather than screaming his throat sore, and he was thrilled to find that it was actually making a difference. He didn’t have that long to appreciate it, however, spinning away from his friends mid-song with a sudden wrenching gasp, falling into a fit of violent sneezes.

“IGT’TCHiewww!! Ehh’NGXTT’Chieww!! DZZ’Shieww!! HAGT’TCHieww!!”

They tickled so much his eyes swam with tears. They were also, to his chagrin, particularly high-pitched and desperate sounding. His cock twitched minutely for a moment in his pants and he blushed, hiding in his hair as much as he was able whilst his body spasmed under the assault. This was no good, no good at all. He reared back for the definitive sneeze of the fit, massive inhale stretching his chest to capacity.

“HEHH-ENGXTCHH’tsiewww!!!”

Holy fuck, that had been big. Not only that, it had been messy. He clapped a hand to his face to conceal the productive results, blush burning his cheeks. Still angled away from his bandmates, he fumbled for his bandana, cursing when he came up empty. Just his fucking luck. He sniffled reflexively, cringing at the thick crackling sound of it.

“Gross, dude…”

He span round immediately, anger and humiliation pulsing through him in waves.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Tim!” He spat, trying his best to look intimidating behind the hand clamped to his face.

“Oookay, guys, let’s take five, yeah?” Jeff sighed, placing his guitar neatly up against an amp before making his way into Gareth’s house. He slapped Tim on the shoulder, urging him to follow. Tim gave Eddie one last pointed glare before taking the hint and skulking off through the garage door. Eddie watched him leave, snuffling into his hand.

Gareth, who had silently watched the whole thing unfold from behind his drum kit, made his way over to a stack of shelves in the corner, retrieving a half empty box of tissues. He would never tell Eddie that he’d left it there specifically for him and that nobody had used it before or since the last time he’d been suffering with nasal difficulties at his house. He walked back over to his friend, punching him gently on the arm and pushing the box of tissues into his free hand.

“If I say ‘god bless you’, will you bite my head off?”

Eddie grumbled something that Gareth didn’t quite catch before turning around, balancing the box on his guitar and yanking a bundle of tissues out as best he could with one hand. The drummer gave him some privacy, mindlessly tinkering with the cymbals of his kit and trying his best not to wince at the incredibly thick nose blows that pierced the otherwise companionable silence.

The older man finished clearing out his sinuses as best he could and groaned. He hated losing his temper like that. Tim was right, of course – this was objectively gross, even if he would subjectively love to see Steve in the same state he was currently in. He leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, willing himself to lighten up.

“Bad allergy day?”

Eddie cracked open an eye and peered at Gareth, who was smiling with faux innocence back at him.

“Whadt tipped you off, Nandcy Drew?” He sniped, cringing only slightly at the additional Ds his swollen sinuses sprinkled into the sentence.

Gareth put his hands up in wordless surrender, smiling softly and deciding to leave it. Eddie was aware he was being handled like a recalcitrant beast with a thorn in its paw, and if it had been anyone other than the drummer he would have lashed out in response to the overcautious mollycoddling. But it was Gareth, so he merely closed his eyes again and listened as the drummer fucked around with various drum fills. He muffled another fit of itchy sneezes into a tissue, acknowledging the blessing from his friend with a nod.

“You seeing Steve today?” He heard Gareth ask after a beat.

“…Yeah. Unfortunately. I mean – because I’m – y’know.” Eddie gestured at his face.

“It’s no big deal, dude. He doesn’t seem like the type to care.”

Eddie knew that was an understatement. Steve fucking loved seeing him like this, and normally the metalhead would welcome the undivided attention and subsequent orgasms. But they were still so new, the pair of them – neither had been with a guy before (not that Eddie had really had much more experience with girls than a few drunken hand jobs at the senior parties he used to crash), and they were trying to take things slow. They hadn’t even formally named their relationship out loud, though it was obvious to the both of them this was far more than a mutual crush.

It wasn’t so much that Eddie wished they didn’t have this – shared interest, in sneezing. It was that he was painfully aware of how distracting he was being when he hung out with Steve. Sometimes he wanted to carry out a full conversation without sneezing himself breathless and leaving the younger man with a raging boner, driving himself wild in the process. Not that he could blame him – he’d just about lost his mind the first time Steve had sneezed against his neck, coming into the younger man’s hand in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

This allergy season had been so much worse than any other he could remember, and wondered if it had something to do with his stint in the upside down. It would be just his luck if all those nasty spores and particles had exacerbated his already impressive reactions to pollen. Even if it had been the catalyst to hooking up with Steve, even if he combusted with pleasure every time it earned him a blessing from the object of his desire, it was getting old, fast.

“Yeah, I know. But Tim is right, man – I’m gross. Sick of it.”

“Kid’s, like, not all there. I love the guy but he’s more than a little direct. You can’t take it to heart, man.”

Eddie nodded. He knew he was right. Tim was a socially awkward weirdo, the reason why they had all basically become friends in the first place. He was blunt, that was just the fact of the matter.

“Thanks, Gare. I just don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You won’t. I’ve seen the way Harrington looks at you – now that’s fucking gross. You googly eyed bastards eye-fucking each other, constantly. Yeah, don’t worry, he’s going nowhere.”

Eddie hurled a balled-up wad of tissues at him, laughing as he managed to hit the younger man square in the forehead and earning himself a disgusted shriek in response. He loved this stupid kid – he always seemed to know just what to say to cheer him up. He resolved to keep his temper for the rest of their jam sesh, nervously counting down the time to his date with Steve.

~~~~

He had to admit his low mood had at least been temporarily assuaged by the sight of Steve opening his door, a radiant smile on his face and visibly excited to see Eddie standing there. He drove the two of them out into a particularly scenic clearing he’d found in the woods – nobody else went out there anymore – and nervously laid out a ratty old picnic blanket and the food he brought with him. He felt pretty unoriginal, maybe kind of predictable, but Steve seemed thrilled all the same. Eddie’s cheeks hurt from smiling more in the past couple of months getting to know the younger man than he could remember ever before in his life. Maybe Gareth was right – they were googly eyed bastards. But no one else was around to see, so Eddie happily let Steve lay him down on the blanketed ground and suck a pattern of hickeys onto the column of his neck.

So far, his allergies were giving him minimal trouble. In the couple of hours after he’d woken up at noon (band practice was only at 1pm, so sue him), he’d been at his worst and taken a second round of allergy medication – probably just under the amount it would take him to get loopy off of the stuff. It had worked though, to a certain extent. He was still having little semi-regular fits of four or five, much to Steve’s appreciation, but it was just enough that he didn’t feel like a total mess.

He moaned as Steve sucked particularly hard at the junction of his neck and shoulder, vaguely aware of a creeping tickle lurking just beneath the surface. He sniffled and gripped harder at the fabric stretched over Steve’s muscular back, pressing his hips up against the thigh the younger man had lodged firmly between his legs. He continued to lean into the pleasure until the tickle proved too much –  it felt even stronger than before, buzzing insistently and with malicious intent. Fuck, yeah, he was definitely going to –

“S-Steve, mm’gonna-!! HDDZ’tschh!! Higxtt!! Heh’ENGXTCH’ieww! ‘Tssieww!!”

He rocked upwards with the force of them, attempting to suppress them as much as he was able. He aimed them over Steve’s shoulder, delicate clouds of spray misting the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His cock throbbed against the younger man’s thigh as his own legs reflexively squeezed around it, forcing a gasp out of him. Steve tensed before moaning against him, redoubling his efforts and sucking even harder.

“Bless you, Eds. You’re so allergic.”

Eddie felt his face pinken. It was everything he’d been fantasising about months – being with Steve, Steve getting off on him, getting off to his sneezes – but somehow, in this moment, he felt more insecure than he had since his gnarly allergic meltdown months prior. It was so stupid – that whole thing had more than proven to him that Steve didn’t find him disgusting, that he could actually be perceived as attractive even at his absolute worst. He should be fine. Why wasn’t he fine?

The confusion and discomfort brought back his sour mood in an instant, and he gently pushed at Steve. To his credit, the younger man immediately backed off, helping Eddie sit up, a broad hand supporting his back.

“What’s wrong, dude? I didn’t – I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no, you’re good. It’s just-“

“Allergies bothering you?”

Eddie looked at Steve, saw the genuine concern on his face, but also the way his eyes lit up over the mention of his allergies. His stomach flipped. God, what was wrong with him?

“It’s – it’s not that. I mean, yes, but it’s – it’s-“

He groaned in frustration, gripping his head in hands and leaning forward so that his long tresses fell over his face. Steve sat back, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts. Eddie could practically feel the anxious energy radiating off of him in waves. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let Steve think he was the problem. But god, was he? He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing quite what would come out but willing to give it a try.

“I feel like – and this is gonna sound so strange – but like – maybe you like my – my sneezing, more than you like me? And don’t get me wrong, I get it, man, I’m into the same shit – fuck, you know that. I just – can’t be sure, when I’m having these – reactions, that you’re, you know, with me because you actually like – well, me. Umm…”

He trailed off, letting the meaning of his well-intentioned rambling sink in. It sounded ridiculous, and he cringed waiting for Steve’s reprobation. Instead, he felt Steve gently tilting his head towards his own, forcing him to look into his eyes. He looked painfully sad. Eddie opened and closed his mouth, his vocal tenacity leaving him as quickly as it had come.

“Do I really make you feel that way?” Steve asked in a small voice.

He looked so crestfallen that Eddie had the distinct realisation that this must be what it felt like to kick a puppy.

“Steve, I’m sorry – just ignore what I said, man, it’s cool.”

He watched as the younger man shook his head.

“No. I can’t ignore it. Oh, man,”

Eddie watched him run a hand through his perfect hair, a distinctly anxious gesture.

“I’m not good at this, dude. I’m not good at making people happy. I’m always fucking up but I’m never sure why, and then it blindsides me.”

Eddie shook his head. He opened his mouth, wanting to reassure Steve that he made him happier than anyone he’d ever met before, but paused when the younger man raised a hand softly, signalling to let him finish.

“I try my best to do what I think I should be doing, but no matter what, I’m always waaay off the mark. I know how to hook up with people, but actually getting them to stay is something I just seem to be incapable of.”

He looked at Eddie and smiled. It looked so weary that his heart skipped a beat.

“If I came across, like, overly enthusiastic about the f-fetish stuff,” He faltered slightly, starting to blush. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never been in this position before, and I thought since you liked it too, I didn’t need to hold back. What I mean to say is – I’m good with sex, that’s what I know best. But clearly I’ve done a terrible job of making you realise how much I like you. Because I do like you, man – haven’t felt this way since anyone but Nance, and even then – this is just – it’s a lot.”

Eddie nodded, watching him intently. Steve ran his hand through his hair again.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry. For making you feel like I was using you just for sex or to scratch some perverted itch. I’m not very smart. I mean, everyone knows that.”

“Steve.”

“And I’m not sure how to make you see that I’m pretty much crazy about you. I thought maybe if I just – showed you in the way I know best-“

“Steve.”

Eddie reached out for him and pulled him into a fierce hug. Steve practically melted in his arms, the emotional spiral Eddie had sensed building up blessedly abating under his touch.

“I like you too. A stupid amount. And I don’t think I did a very good job of letting you know, either.”

He pulled back to look Steve in the eyes.

“I mean, what gives, man? It sounded like you thought I wanted to stop seeing you, or something.”

When Steve gave an awkward shrug, Eddie’s jaw dropped open.

“Harrington, you cannot be serious. Tell me you didn’t genuinely think I wanted to end things with you over that pathetic little monologue of mine?”

“Like I said, man. I’m dumb.”

“Ughh, Steve, you need to stop with this low self-esteem shit, honey,” The pet name slipped out before he could help it, but it didn’t seem to bother the younger man, who snuggled even closer to him.

“How about this? I stop ragging on myself when you actually let yourself believe that I want to be with you for more than a gratuitous lay, alright?” Steve said, jabbing him in the chest with an outstretched finger.

“Ooh, big word.”

“Fuck off!”

Steve wrestled him to the ground, pinning Eddie onto his back whilst the metalhead laughed with raucous abandon. Steve silenced him with a kiss.

“I’m serious, Munson. Wanna be with you. And I’ll back off with the – the sneezing stuff, if you want.”

Eddie smirked up at him.

“Jesus, you’re cute when you’re flustered. And god no, please don’t stop! You’ve convinced me. You like me, I like you, grass is green. We’re both not very good at this. I think we should kiss over it.”

Steve smiled down at him and leaned in to resume their making out when Eddie felt the familiar plip of a droplet of moisture bursting against his cheek. He thought Steve might have actually drooled on him for a split second, when there was another small splash against his forehead. And another. And another.

He craned his neck back to peer up at the sky. Clear and serenely blue only minutes earlier, it was now brimming with chubby, grey rainclouds.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!”

And with that, the heavens opened up.

~~~~

Eddie was pissed. No, that was an understatement – he was livid. He hadn’t had the foresight to expect rain – a summer storm, a typical occurrence in Hawkins, and yet. He’d been so set on taking Steve on a traditional, normal date that he had effectively mentally eliminated any alternative outcomes to their outing other than a romantic little picnic in the afternoon sun, followed by cuddling and sex. Maybe escalating beyond the hand jobs they’d been trading, if they were feeling a little braver.

“God DAMMIT-!” He cursed as the rain seemed to pound down even harder. Luckily, they’d been able to locate a sheltered area on the edge of the clearing and duck into it before it really started to pour, escaping with minimal dampness. And it was warm, so at least they wouldn’t freeze. However, they’d abandoned the blanket and food in their single-minded urgency, realising only after they’d scurried well out of sight from them. His irritation at this mindless fuck up was only further stoked by the physical discomfort he was currently enduring. The way his wet bangs clung to his forehead felt disgusting; his sneakers were damp and his jeans clung to ankles. Alone, these sensations and gripes were inconsequential – but combined, they were a lethal mood killer.

He felt Steve reach out and squeeze his shoulder in consolation. When Eddie didn’t respond, staring moodily down at his own knees as he sat hugging them to his chest, Steve reached out and pulled him into a clumsy side-hug. The older man grunted, not thrilled about feeling even more wet fabric pressed up against his own sopping clothes, but enjoying the physical closeness nonetheless.

“You’re such a grump. A cute little grump.”

Steve murmured in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Eddie knew he could feel the responsive trembling, lips curling into a smile against the shell of his ear.

“Come on, Eds. Compared to what we’ve both been through? This is nothing.”

Eddie sighed, finding that although his bitterness persisted, Steve’s presence was a welcoming distraction.

“Somehow, Stevie, that doesn’t really make me feel any better.”

“Want me to sing you a song? I do a really good Phil Collins.”

The metalhead snorted and butted Steve’s cheek gently with his own.

“You do not. I was present for that Karaoke fiasco, Harrington. Leave it to the professionals.” He jabbed at his own chest with a thumb.

“Whatever, man. You liiiked it.” Steve sing-songed against his jawline.

Eddie meant to respond, but was stopped dead in his tracks by the familiar but daunting sensation of an intensely allergic tickle beginning to culminate. He moaned, reaching up with a fist and roughly mashing his nose around, hoping to bully the urge into submission, but no cigar. He could hear the damp squishing noise his sinuses made, worrying his nostrils pink with the effort. He had forgotten temporarily that if anything seemed to aggravate his allergies even more, it was rain.

He glanced at Steve, already feeling his eyelids fluttering in preparation for the release.

“Hh-Hh!! Steve, really gonnnnaa-hah..!! Hh, Start sneezing in a minute, fuck….”

He took in the hungry expression on Steve’s face, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He managed a little smirk at the way Steve’s eyes flitted about his face, taking in his flaring nostrils one moment, his furrowed brow the next. He sniffled, more to watch how Steve would react, but then realising he was a lot stuffier than he had originally thought.

“Ugh, I’m probably gonna….make a hh-HH!! Hahh mess….”

He heard the soft sound the younger man made in the back of his throat, felt the way the arm slung around his shoulders pulled him incrementally closer.

“That’s ok, Eds. I don’t mind.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you don’t, big boy…Hh!!”

Steve blushed and shot him a bashful little smile. It was probably one of the cutest things Eddie had ever seen, and he suddenly felt just as shy as Steve looked.

“Can I…keep holding you? While you sneeze? Is that ok?”

Eddie pressed a pair of fingers under his flaring nostrils, temporarily abating the building tickle just enough to respond.

“M-more than okaayyy-HH!! Wanted that f-for-! Months, now!! Ohhh, Steve, Mm’gonna-!! Need’ta-!!”

“I’ve got you, baby.”

Eddie’s head swam at the sudden pet name, feeling as if he’d hurtled over the peak of the world’s tallest roller coaster. For a moment, the butterflies and giddiness threatened to overwhelm the need to sneeze, but as always, the tickle in his nose reigned supreme. He sucked in one final choppy breath before he was sent sprawling forward, helpless as the pollen teased him breathless.

“Hh-HHDT!! DZZSSHH’IEWW!! H’ENGXT’TCHIEEWW!! IGSSCH!! GXXT’Shieww!!”

He felt Steve pulling him closer, turning him effortlessly towards him so that he was halfway into his lap and sneezing towards his chest. Each sneeze felt as if they only exacerbated the tickle, leaving him gasping, tears starting to spill down his cheeks.

“HIGG’Shiewww!! EhhHDT’Tchieww!! IGXXT’tsieww!! HHhohh my godddDXXSH’Ieww!! Hahh!”

Everywhere Steve touched him, he burned in exquisite agony. His nostrils flared in and out as the tickle toyed with him, breath hitching dramatically. He knew he was making a scene; knowing that Steve was hanging on to his every gasp and sigh made the experience all the more pleasurable. His cock throbbed in his jeans.

“EHH’GXXTT’SHIieww!! HGSHHH!! GSHHH’ieww!! EHH’NGXTTtchhh!!”

His nose was running down to his top lip now, dangerously close to overflowing. He reached up with a shaky hand, intending to cover, but felt Steve grasp him by the wrist and gently lower it again. By this point, the younger man had shifted him to sit completely in his lap, and as Eddie hitched towards another round of impossibly tickly sneezes, Steve gently pressed his head down to lean against his shoulder. Eddie gripped frantically at the cotton of Steve’s shirt, grounding himself, before sneezing violently down and across the younger man’s chest. He could hear Steve mumbling reassuringly to him throughout.

“Holy shit, Munson, Bless you – Bless you! So tickly…It’s okay, I’ve got you. You sound so good, Eds. So hot. Fuckkk….Bless you, bless you!”

Eddie’s face was burning, both with the effort of the overwhelming reaction to the pollen and the intoxicating pleasure his own sneezes sent pulsing through his body. He would rather someone else sneeze, but damn if his own didn’t get him going when they rendered him a helpless mess like this. His cock twitched with every expulsion, the releases that burst out of him sending pleasant shivers rippling from the base of his skull to the tips of his fingers and toes. Steve’s breathless encouragement only intensified the experience for him.

“hh-HH-HDDT-!! HIGGG’TSHHIEWW!! TSSHIEWW!! EHHSHHH’IEWww!! ENGGXTCHHH!!!”

He felt mess burst from his flared nostrils with that last body-crunching sneeze, sending twin tendrils hanging over his lips. He felt Steve wipe most of it away with his bare fingers, and the kinkiness of the gesture made his hips buck. And still he sneezed.

“GGGSSHH’IIEWW!! Hh, HEH!! Heh’EGXTT’SHieww!! HNGXTCHH!! GXXXTT’Shiewww!!”

Finally, it felt like the tickle was cresting into a definitive, final explosion. He moaned, not sure if he could handle something of the magnitude the building sensation promised, but all the same he was gasping, head jogging against Steve’s shoulder, back expanding within Steve’s embrace. He hitched once, twice, three times before the sneeze held him on the edge in a silent grimace – and then he was lurching forward, almost sending the pair of them sprawling backwards onto the forest floor with the force of it.

“HEEEIHHHH’DZZZTSHHIEWWW!!! Hahhh-!”

He panted, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s shoulder and wrapping his arms round his waist. Dizzy and exhausted, he slumped against the solid weight of the younger man, luxuriating in the aftermath of that all-encompassing fit. He was painfully hard now. He felt Steve stroking his hair and rubbing his back with broad, open-palmed strokes. He opened his bleary eyes for the first time since his fit had begun, previously unable to do so under the persistent assault.

“Jesus Christ…”

He muttered under his breath, taking in the extent of the damage he’d caused. Steve’s baby blue shirt was almost transparent where it clung to his chest, saturated with the result of Eddie’s impressive allergies as it was. There was further mess dripping slowly downwards, gluing the shirt to his abdomen as it sunk into the fabric. He tentatively looked up at Steve, not quite knowing if he had crossed over the delicate line of sexy to disgusting. One quick glance at the former jock’s ruined expression was all it took to reassure him that he was still very much securely in the sexy camp. He smiled coyly.

“Told you I’d make a mess.” He sniffled for emphasis and rubbed his runny nose against Steve’s shoulder until it sported twin damp patches.

Steve kissed into his hair, and Eddie noticed that he was panting too.

“That was – amazing. Holy shit. I mean – wow!!”

Eddie laughed fondly at how winded the other man sounded, more than a little pleased with himself. It felt so good to sneeze as hard as his body desired, and to know that he was turning King Steve on by being a sloppy, allergic mess was more than a little erotic. He felt like he’d come with just a few brisk jerks of his cock.

“Mm’glad you liked it.” He giggled shyly, a little loopy in the aftermath of it all.

Steve lifted his head up gently by the chin, scanning his face with eyes full of emotion.

“Are you okay?? Fuck, that was so intense. Your allergies, man….”

Eddie nodded.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, you heard me – before, at your place. It can get a little – ridiculous, if I’m not on top of medication. Or when I’m outside in the elements. Or when it rains – god, especially when it rains!”

Steve laughed.               

“Yeah, man, I see that now.” He reached down to touch the slick fabric of his shirt. Eddie didn’t miss the way his breath caught as his fingers slipped over it.

Emboldened, he wiped his nose roughly along the back of his hand and a little further up his arm, grateful to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, before gripping Steve by the collar and pulling his head close.

“Want me to get you off, Harrington? Want me to make you come all over the forest floor?” He murmured against Steve’s lips.

Eddie was expecting a moan of some kind, but not the half-strangled groan that Steve emitted, reaching up to cover his burning face with a broad, tan hand. Confused, the metalhead reached down to grip Steve’s erection – finding a distinctly soft cock and a huge wet patch spread across the mouth-wateringly tight Levi’s that the younger man favoured. He gaped, eyes round in surprise, and stared at Steve in a look of silent amazement. Steve peered at him through the protective cage of his fingers and moaned again.

“I – it’s because – you were so-! And I-!”

As Steve flailed and spluttered, a grin spread wider and wider across Eddie’s face. Holy shit. He had made Steve motherfucking Harrington come in has pants, untouched. He had done that. Holy shit.

“Stevie, did you jizz in your pants for little old me?” He drawled, delighting in the deepening blush that spread all the way to the tips of the younger man’s ears. He leaned forward and gently bit one, feeling the heat of the blood radiating from the delicate skin.

“…Yes. I did. I swear, I’m not-! This hasn’t happened before. You’re just…so hot,” Steve admitted, leaning into the tiny kisses that Eddie pressed along the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks.

“So sensitive, Stevie. I like that.”

He kissed Steve firmly on the mouth, both of them moaning at the sensation of Eddie’s slick nostrils and cupid’s bow pressing up against Steve’s own nose. The older man gasped at the sudden grip of Steve’s palm cupping him through his jeans, thrusting into it instinctively. He was about several pumps away from coming into his pants himself when Steve released his hold. Eddie whined, his hips chasing the receding hand in vain. He looked up at the younger man impatiently.

“Can I suck you off?”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t been expecting that. But the answer was an absolute, resounding yes.

“Please,” he whined against Steve’s mouth, feeling the younger man smile before starting to push him back onto the soft grass and up against the roots of a tree. It wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, but the desire he felt for Steve eclipsed the minor discomfort. He watched as Steve eagerly unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, pumping it softly but firmly enough that Eddie’s head knocked back against the tree trunk with a gentle thunk. Steve paused for a moment.

“I should, uh, say – neither of us have been with guys before, so – this is my first time giving head. Sucking cock, I mean. I’m sorry if I’m not all that good after talking such a big game about sex before.”

Eddie let him finish, nodding his head.

“Well, Steve, rest assured that no matter what you do to me, you and your mouth have the unprecedented honour of taking my oral virginity. So go wild, honey.”

Steve blinked at him.

“Really?! You’ve never gotten a blow job before, not even once?”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Now I know it may come as a total shocker to the likes of you, pretty boy, but being the leader of the Hellfire Club and resident freak didn’t exactly leave me swimming in pussy. You’re my first almost everything, basically – or the only person that ever mattered.”

Steve started to jerk him off again.

“Aww, Eds…”

“Don’t patronise me, Harrington, I swear to god.”

“Sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

And with that, Steve took his cock into his mouth and sucked hard. Eddie groaned, reaching forward to grip gently at Steve’s hair but stopping just short, hands hovering in question. Steve peered up at him before guiding his hands to rest on his scalp.

“Just don’t pull hard, okay?”

“ohhh-kayy-ee!!” Eddie whimpered as Steve began to suck and lick him in a punishing rhythm, using one hand to jerk the rest of his cock he couldn’t fit in his mouth. The older man’s eyes rolled back into his head, once again thunking gently against the tree. Steve was a god damn natural. It felt just as good to have a mouth round his cock as he had imagined, moreso, even.

He panted, expression twisted in ecstasy, and looked down the length of his body to watch Steve work. They locked eyes, Eddie unable to look away as Steve’s head bobbed rhythmically, looking prettier than anyone had any right to as their cheek bulged with cock. He wouldn’t last – it was so good, too good, and he was already so on edge.

“God, Stevie, think you're gonna make me come already…! Oh god, oh fuck-!!”

Steve moaned, the vibrations travelling down Eddie’s cock and wrenching a keening wail from him. His eyes scrunched shut, mind replaying the intense sensations of his sneezing fit, the way Steve had held him, the way Steve had actually come in his pants over Eddie spraying him with snot – these pleasurable thoughts combined with a particularly strong suck against the head of his cock pushed him over the edge, coming with a wordless groan. The pleasure was intense, his strongest orgasm in a while, leaving his toes curling in his sneakers. When it finally subsided, he could only moan stupidly, fingers flexing in Steve’s hair.

He felt Steve pulling off of him, and watched as he spat a mouthful of cum onto the ground beside them. Eddie grinned goofily at him, endorphins overloading his system and making this sight far funnier than it should otherwise be.

“You’ll let me snot all over your chest, but you won’t swallow my cum?”

Steve shot him an overly dramatic look of disgust.

“You need to work on your diet.”

Eddie kicked at him feebly. Steve gently tucked him back into his pants and zipped them up.

“So…was I any good?” He grinned in a way that showed he knew just how well he’d done.

“You know you were, asshole. Are you sure that’s the first cock you sucked?”

“Well….I managed to reach the tip of my own with my tongue, one time.” Steve said nonchalantly, pulling Eddie upwards into a sitting position.

“Ha! Better than I managed. Almost threw my back out, and for what?” They both laughed at that.

“Hey, rain’s stopped!” Steve blurted out so suddenly Eddie nearly jumped.

“Shit, finally!”

Eddie made his way to his feet, shaking slightly as his legs were still a little wobbly in the aftermath of his first blow job ever. Steve stood up beside him and slapped him on the back in that distinctive fashion that all jocks and former jocks would continue to do for the rest of their lives.

“Let’s go find the stuff and then we can head to m-my place…Hh!!”

Eddie’s ears perked up immediately. He spun round and watched in delight as Steve barrelled forward with a sudden harsh triple, aimed haphazardly into an upraised elbow.

“HARRESSSHHIEWW!! AESSSHHHUU!! HHRRRSHHH’UU!! Ugh, god…’scuse me.” He sniffled and gently swiped under his nose with a crooked finger.

Even though he was still practically reeling in the aftermath of the orgasm he’d had not minutes earlier, Eddie’s spent cock gave an appreciative little twitch at the spraying sound of those powerful sneezes.

“Bless you, Stevie. Your timing is a little off, but I’ll take it.”

Steve laughed and nudged him gently with his shoulder, looking even more pleased with himself.

“The damp’s getting to me a little. Come home with me? It’s warm and we can…clean up.” He gestured towards his ruined t-shirt.

“Yeah. I’d like that. And Steve?” Eddie said as they made their way towards the clearing.

“Mmhm?”

“I think I want you to come in my mouth next.”

Steve yanked him forward by the wrist, breaking out into a half-run and slipping haphazardly on the wet grass, and Eddie laughed until tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

~~~~~~

(Idk why I always write Steve cumming in his pants lmao.....he just looks like he would to me😤)

[r0ug3pri5m]

The Apocalypse au

🔲 General background:

The story takes place in a chain store built by Freddy Fazbear's Pizza in a city in country A. The usual activities are daytime and nighttime stage performances. In fact, each play only has three characters, because in this AU, like the original work, the sun and moon share the same body, which can be converted according to natural light. Bloodmoon is an individual, and Eclipse have his own entities.At first, the daycare center did not have Bloodmoon, Eclipse played the villain before Blood Moon arrived. He was originally quite versatile, proficient in physical exercises and using swords and spears, but after Blood Moon arrived, playing a new script reduced his fighting role, so his abilities became increasingly rusty. As the commuting time on weekdays decreased during solar eclipses, he used his free time to self-study divination (he loved all mysterious and supernatural factors). In order to cater to the children's preferences (which may be a more reasonable excuse from someone), Blood Moon was invited to replace the villain position of Eclipse. In the script, he played the cruel and unruly king, with Sun and Moon being soldiers and archers who were ordered to assassinate the tyrant. They were very popular among children and even nicknamed (Smiley Knight/Frost Moon Archer). Of course, there are also some children who like Bloodmoon, which is why after Blood Moon began his tyranny in the later stage, he would prefer the term 'Sir Bloodmoon' instead of 'king'. This is the honorific title given to him by his children who like him. He wants to make his subjects feel close to the people while exercising his tyranny, in order to further utilize it. He does not have much hostility towards the children, Perhaps he thinks this group poses little threat to his plan, and he likes to scare them for fun.On the evening of Bloodmoon's seventh performance, Moon first realized something was wrong with Blood Moon (or perhaps he had been pretending to be too perfect). Out of long-term interests and a bit of his own quirk, Blood Moon left a mark on Moon's face (which is also the origin of the scars on Sun/Moon's face)

🔲 Timeline:

prophase

↓ (Blood Moon Arrives)

mid-term

↓ (Rebellion and Change)

later stage

↓ (Destruction and Conquest)

Genesis

↓ (Prosperity)

The Apocalypse

🔲 Main Role:

🗡 Sun/ 🏹 Moon/ 🍷 Bloodmoon is a new batch of electronic toys designed with paint color changes based on the original Sun/Moon model. In this AU, 🔮 Eclipse has entities.

🗡 Sun:

Body color (including performance clothing): Mainly red, orange, yellow, and blue (there are too many colors on his pants, giving a rainbow like feeling).

•He has good swordsmanship. Whenever he performs, you will see him carrying his Western sword and shield with him. The sword is a performance tool, so it cannot cause substantial damage.

•He always squints and smiles, even when facing enemies. He wants to leave an impression of a brave and confident sunny boy.

•The scar Bloodmoon left on his left eye made him feel more like a tough guy. He secretly liked it, but it couldn't stop him from disgusting Bloodmoon.

•Character: lively, optimistic, brave, humorous, competitive, outgoing, and talkative.

• Hobbies: Interacting with children, practicing swordsmanship, covering Moon like a brother (but in fact Moon has a more mature mind), sharing daily updates with Moon, beer (not good but fond of drinking), keep himself clean and handsome.

🏹 Moon:

Body color (including performance clothing): Mainly in blue, purple, and beige.

•He is skilled in archery, with a shooting rate of not 100%, but close to it. Although he knows he is an actor and has low expectations, his perfectionism drives him to do his best, and he also has a vague premonition that he will come in handy one day.

•He has good accuracy and using a good gun is not a problem for him, although he has not had any contact before in the later stage.

•He is not suitable for close combat, and if he is discovered by the enemy and is very close, he has little ability to fight back.

•Character: Brave, cautious, astute, introverted, and steady.

• Hobbies: keep a diary , watch the children play and fight at a high place, watch the outside world through the glass, snow, Gingerbread man, Eggnog, and tell the children about the legend of Christmas.

🍷 Bloodmoon:

•Body color (including performance clothing): Mainly red, white, black, and gray, seemingly symbolizing something.

• He is skilled in using all kinds of firearms and has a good sabre technique.

•He likes to look at others with a smile on his face, full of malice. Sometimes his ferocious smile combined with his blood red eyes can make people feel creepy.

•His performance prop is a royal scepter, although it is simulated, he does not dislike it, just look good. Before the later stage, the small bag around his waist had always been a place to hold knives. Before the later stage, he often carried two knives, one was a simulated dagger used for perfunctory performances, and the other was a Malay sword.

•In an inconspicuous corner of his room, the wall was filled with traces he had carved to calculate the date. He calculated everything so meticulously that he had already properly reserved the rest place the first time.

•When he first arrived, the solar eclipse had a partnership with him,He is calm and skilled in disguise, always carefully observing everything around him. He is very concerned about Sun and Moon, and also closely monitoring their every move.

•Character: arrogant, ruthless, hypocritical, stubborn, suspicious, trustworthy, cunning, and rebellious.

• Preferences: Tequila, billiards, gambling, pranks, tasting the expression of the enemy's pain and despair, torturing/playing/challenging the enemy, wandering around for fun.

🔮 Eclipse:

• Body color (including performance clothing): Mainly red, yellow, and black

•He played the only villain role before the arrival of Blood Moon, and even if he had some malice towards Sun/Moon off stage, he would not take the initiative to trouble them unless they met on a narrow path. Compared to this, he is more focused on his own affairs.

•He doesn't like the vast majority of children, feeling that they are too noisy and difficult to discipline. Most children run away when they see him, and there is no opportunity for communication. He won't do anything to children, and he is very gentle towards those quiet and obedient children.

•The tobacco he smokes has a refreshing fragrance that is harmless to the human body but can create some illusions.

•Character: pragmatic, independent, shrewd, withdrawn, and gentle.

• Hobbies: Alone, quiet and enclosed small space, smoking a special type of tobacco, studying theology and metaphysics, meeting his guardian every day and chatting, playing chess, decorating his own room.