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unprocione · 2 years ago

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LEON SCOTT KENNEDY — CHARACTER STATS.

✦ ��𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟷 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

NAME : leon scott kennedy. EYE COLOUR : a vivid shade of blue. HAIR STYLE / COLOUR : naturally an auburn brown, but often dyed a champagne blond. coarse texture, cut short with a curtain bang, precariously styled with exteme-hold hairspray. * HEIGHT : 5′11”. * CLOTHING STYLE : ranging between a leather-grunge wardrobe and business-casual. favors all shades of blue, grey & off-white, creme beige & caramel tan. favors midnight black leather or saddle brown leather. fond of leather jackets, some with woolen trim. wears sock-garters. traditional ties instead of bowties. pinstripe patterns or plain cloth instead of alternative or gaudy patterns. shoulder-holster harnesses. compression shirts. mock turtlenecks, long-sleeved or sleeveless. leather wristwatch instead of metallic, no pocketwatches. simple metal jewelry, silver, never gold. leather caps or baseball caps. fingerless gloves. no heavy makeup - minimal concealer & black eyeliner on occasion. nails blunt & clean or chipped black paint. italian suit styling, single-breasted two-button suit jackets with notch-lapels, often in cobalt or charcoal, creme or off-white interior lining, tapered trousers, undershirts range through off-white, pigeon-grey or cobalt. oxford shoes (no brogue) for suits, usually in midnight black, sable brown, or ombre leather for special occasions. most boots are fitted tight to calves, midnight black or sable brown with pointed toe and slight heel, also favours moto zipper boots. occasionally wears steel toe. lapel pins for formal events are usually a simple silver sword or the dso emblem, occasionally a silver american flag. unlikely to wear green, red, orange, or yellow. ears are both pierced. often either clean-shaven or with five-o-clock shadow. * BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE : his moles. one above his lip to the left side of his cupid's bow, one below the left corner of his mouth below his chin and lips, one on his right cheekbone, one on the right side of his jaw.

✦ 𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟸 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

FEARS : abandonment; of being without support and guidance, loss of solid ground. leon is terrified of losing control of himself, of his body and his mind, not only after his experience with las plagas, but certainly exacerbated afterwards. leon is also a habitual 'clean freak' after multiple experiences of being in filth to the worst degrees, and has a serious distrust towards medical institutions.

GUILTY PLEASURE : leon is an alcoholic with argumentative tendencies who frequently indulges in one-night stands.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE : leon can’t stand dress code or uniform violations, improper cleanliness, or those with flippant demeanors showing a distinct lack of care, understanding, or concern for others in disadvantageous or unfortunate situations.

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE : to scrub the threat of bioterrorism from the face of the earth, personal legal emancipation from his contract with the us government, to live in a world without constant fear of the next upcoming threat.

✦ 𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟹 : 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒.

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP : bathroom. vomit. check firearm. brush teeth. aspirin. unlock bedroom door. coffee. treadmill. shower. dress. breakfast. it’s another day, survive, do it all over again tomorrow.

THEY THINK ABOUT MOST : what his life could have been, what other lives could have been, when does it end, will he be there to even see the end? what will it look like, will it be enough, will it satisfy him for all of this hell he’s endured to meet it, or will he always be looking for another threat, will he always be looking over his shoulder?

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED : do the ends justify the means? to who? / where does it end, when do we draw the line? / will i always be this angry, what do i do with all this anger? / i’m not too gone to come back from this, am i? / dead man walking. / always ready to run, always pretending i am not ready to run, even though there is nowhere to run to, no point to the running. / if you’re so lucky, why are you on your own tonight? / you survived. you weren’t meant to. live with that. / you lived where so many people died, and what have you done with your life to deserve it? / are you hurting the ones you love? so many glasses on the tabletop.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS : leon considers himself decently attractive with a good sense of humour (not so much) but he would say his best quality is his adaptability to a variety of circumstances, (which isn't bragging about himself; he actually gets this opinion straight from his interrogation & subsequent blackmailing by adam benford) usually in regards to capability with firearms, but also in regards to an ironclad will and not instantly going into shock and shutting down. this is half-true, leon is extremely capable on the field, and that's what he considers valuable, but in civilian situations, he’s not as in his element.

✦ 𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟺 : 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES : single! he doesn't mind group dates, but rarely introduces his partners to his friends, usually because he doesn't stay in relationships for very long.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED : he would say respected if asked, but it would always be loved.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS : depends on his intentions. if he’s just going to bed with them, then beauty. something more? brains, although he wishes it could be just beauty, just so he wouldn’t have to explain why his life is such a downhill disaster and wouldn’t have to deal with the emotional turmoil from a partner capable of understanding his personal hell in detail and the effect of it on everyone around him.

DOGS OR CATS : cats. leon has a complicated view on dogs after being mauled in the raccoon city police department's parking garage, but he isn't as afraid of them as once was after freeing 'hewie' from the beartrap in valdelobos.

✦ 𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟻 : 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘…

LIE : absolutely, more than he realizes, especially by convenient omission and selectively telling details but not entire truth, but he isn’t oblivious. leon lies to protect the government’s interests in multiple cases, and he does this often knowingly, but leon is also extremely good at tricking himself into believing his own lies until he’s not sure exactly sure himself what’s true, even after living through it himself. leon justifies his actions to himself or others through lies, omission of the truth, or misrepresentation of the situation. leon can lie about everything from how many drinks he’s had that night to us official involvement in raccoon city, even while under oath, which is serious considering the important moral weight he puts on justice and retribution for acts of injustice.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES : conditioned and trained into reliance on his government handlers and into filling a demanding government role; he’s so uniquely specialized to thrive in his situation, that leon wouldn’t fit anywhere else in society now without reintegration therapy similar to what long-term prisoners and career military veterans go through. leon portrays himself very confidently, and believes that he is self-sufficient as an individual, but would crumble almost instantly in reality if thrown into the deep end without warning, and become quickly lost and overwhelmed without someone to give him orders or direction. the thought of striking out independently, while a goal of leon’s, is a terrifying consideration.

BELIEVE IN LOVE : it comes and goes by the hour.

WANT SOMEONE : to pull him out of the fight, to share with a glimpse of normalcy.

✦ 𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟼 : 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑…

BEEN ON STAGE : yes, as an ornament, as an orator, as a product, as a poster-boy.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN : he would not recognize himself.

✦ 𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟽 : 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.

FAVOURITE COLOUR : sapphire blue.

FAVOURITE ANIMAL : admires anything feline, favors lions & 'mountain lions'.

FAVOURITE BOOK : criminal mystery, likely with a noir setting. diagnosing him with sherlock holmes enjoyer.

FAVOURITE GAME : leon has a few favorites in recent times, but will not play anything with a zombie-apocalypse setting. metal gear, hitman, tom clancy's, and assassin's creed are a few of his favorite videogame series.

✦ 𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟾 : 𝐀𝐆𝐄.

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE : july 10th.

HOW OLD WILL THEY BE : 46 yrs.

✦ 𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟿 : 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄.

I LOVE : cheap brandy. the reliability of structure. playing part in the dispensation of justice, law, & order.

I FEEL : ensnared. exposed like a raw wound. restless & resolute.

I HIDE : behind the lies, for the sake of peace, for the sake of stability. the exhaustion.

I MISS : what could have been.

I WISH : for an end. for a world without fear.

tagged by : @sanctamater tagging: whoever would like to! :)

#» 🕊️ ﹕ the means only justify the ends. (study.) ❧

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 1 year ago

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🦇 Fatima Tate Takes the Cake Book Review 🦇

❝ Is it haram to follow your dreams? ❞

❓ #QOTD Did you turn your childhood dreams into a reality, and if not, what stopped you? ❓ 🦇 Growing up in a traditional Muslim household, seventeen-year-old Fatima Tate is used to living a life that adheres to her parents' wishes. They see her passion for baking as a hobby, even though Fatima hopes to win a state baking competition hosted by the Culinary Institute of America; the college she hopes to attend despite her mother's desire for her to major in nursing. Her parents would freak out if they knew she was flirting with college student Raheem, who also volunteers at the local soup kitchen with Fatima. Their secret flirting by text heats to a simmer until their parents are involved. Eager to give their daughter a happy, stable life, Fatima's parents encourage their engagement. It's not until the ring is on her finger that Fatima realizes the happily ever after Raheem is offering comes at a price.

💜 Growing up in a traditional Muslim household myself, I hoped Fatima's story would defy some of the stereotypes too often placed on the religion, traditions, and culture. Every coming-of-age / YA story positions readers at a pivotal turning point in a character's life. For Muslim characters, that turning point feels pre-defined by the expectations elders place on us. Fatima does, eventually, define her own path, but after trying to earn her parents' approval and understanding for the entire novel, it feels too instantaneous by the end (especially given her mother's consistent stance about Fatima's future from the start).

🍰 Many baking-focused books published in the last year—books like Rubi Ramos's Recipe for Success, Recipe for Persuasion, or Arsenic and Adobo with talented Cuban, Indian, and Filipino main characters—bring flare and flavor to their novels by focusing on culture through food. Reading these books, you can smell distinct spices fill the air, taste every kick of cinnamon, clove, or coriander against your tongue. Every food-focused page makes you salivate until you wish you had the very dishes and sweet treats mentioned before you. I was so eager to see familiar Middle Eastern flavors and dishes highlighted in this novel, to see Fatima complete the step-by-step process of making treats with orange blossom water, phyllo dough, cinnamon, or rose water, but none were mentioned. The beauty of the books I mentioned above was the chance to connect with someone else's culture through food, but I fear non-Middle Eastern readers missed that chance with this story. Instead, the cooking scenes sound clinical, like reading out the instructions of a recipe step-by-step. For a character who claims baking is her everything, she's not at all passionate about the art.

🎂 That's hardly the biggest problem. Growing up as a Muslim-American in a strict, traditional household, I understood everything that Fatima experienced; following rules and traditions, not wanting to "make trouble," not wanting to disappoint my parents, feeling the pressure to meet their standards. (Like Fatima's best friend, I'm also Muslim and queer, which comes with its own challenges.) Despite growing up in the same circumstances, I couldn't connect to Fatima beyond that surface level. The story starts with her crushing on a boy, but she's so instantly blinded by him—despite all the immediate red flags popping up—that we don't see a version of Fatima that's level-headed. Instead, we exist in her ongoing, anxious mindset—anxious about a boy, hiding her feelings for him, displeasing her parents, her family's financial situation, all of it. There's so much focus on those sources of anxiety and on Raheem's wrong-doings that we never get to see the beauty Islam has to offer. For the sake of non-Muslim readers, I also wish a few Arabic terms were explained at the story's start.

☪️ A book that could have proven the worst misconceptions about Islam wrong only made those misconceptions worse. Fatima views religious customs as "ancient" impositions that make it seem she's shackled to old ways, yet she made the choice to wear a hajib (a choice no one else can make for her). She prays alone in her room instead of with her family, doesn't seem to attend mosque, and notes how "patriarchal" the local masjid is. Readers are given two extremes of Islam: the overly traditional "haram police" or Fatima, who seems to wear her religion as an obligation or facade, rather than as a faith that unites her with a beloved community. There's no positive Muslim representation at all in this book—a book that aimed to give "a much-needed voice to young Black Muslim women." I agree; those voices need to be heard. Muslim voices need to be heard. But not like this. I'm not only disappointed. I'm hurt.

🦇 Recommended to anyone who loves a semi-food-focused YA coming-of-age story with an insta-love connection.

☪️ Muslim Representation / OWN Voices 🍰 Great British Bake Off Vibes 🎂 Contemporary/YA Fiction 🧁 Queer Minor Characters ☪️ A Junior Library Guild Gold Standard Selection

🦇 Major thanks to the author and publisher for providing an ARC of this book via Netgalley. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book.

#book review #book blog #booklr #books #book thoughts #book: fatima tate takes the cake #author: khadijah vanbrakle #batty about books #battyaboutbooks

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totaldrama-showdowns · 1 year ago

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Unused Propaganda for the Best Outfit Showdown! Apologies if your’s could not be used!

Noah

“He dresses like shit I just think it'll be funny if he made this poll”

“it'd be funny if he won both worst outfit and best outfit”

Alejandro

“Idk I just like his outfit. His shirt is a nice shade of red”

“He's the only one from gen 1 that actually knows how clothes work!”

“The reason I got a bull necklace”

Courtney

“I just think it looks nice. Good design”

“Genuinely one of the only good outfits from the original cast. Simple, but cohesive and works well for the character”

Scary Girl

“Her outfit fits her character so well! I like how she's goth and her color palette's great”

“Simple yet elegant. The hair? The dress? The stockings? Perfect. Looks like an evil candy cane.”

“lolita dress, nice colours, cool socks, matching hair.”

Damien

“damien”

Emma

“it’s so cute! looks like something i could absolutely see an actual teenager wearing. the colors are all so nice and vibrant without being overbearing. love her fit :)”

“I just like it. The orange looks nice :)”

“HER SHOES OMG HER ORANGE SWEATER THE PINK SCRUNCHY THE LESBIAN FLAG COLOURS SHE'S SO CUTE”

“Her outfit is so cute. one of my favs in a season with already great outfits. the colours are very nice to look at (leabien flag) and its also not a particularly common palette in td either which is also nice. the shoes are practical, and the skirt and top are cute. her ponytail as well with the pink scrunchy. it really looks like they designed her based on actual outfits that teenagers wear! its just a very cute outfit”

Anne Maria’s Maggot

“That fit ROCKED. It went SO HARD. the only reason why they had Zoey's maggot was bc they hated Anne Maria and all her swag”

“Zoey wishes”

“a vote for this maggot is a vote for FEMINISM”

“i <3 maggots :)”

Dark suit Ice Dancers

“Peak team rocket. Peak Ice skaters. Peak villains. Peak personalities. Peak outfit”

“Look at them”

“THEYRE SO AWESOME!! THE SUNGLASSES!!!”

Katie & Sadie

“It's cute that they're matching. Their outfits are suitable for summer unlike some people's... cough three shirts cough”

Axel

“her outfit is so axel”

Shawn

“tboy swag. also his colors go so well together”

“Unironically I would wear that”

Topher

“is he wearing a sweater over a button up or is it just one shirt.... either way topher sweep”

Admiral Lindsay

“linsay her hotness :)”

#best td outfit showdown

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pokemoncaretips · 2 years ago

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do you have any insights on the Inkay line??? a friend of mine really wants one and I'm at a loss, I feel like that's not so good of an idea but I don't know much about dark types and I know a lot of them are unfairly stigmatized so I might just be reinforcing thatl...

General notes: The inkay line is a bit of a tricky one. On the one hand, it is true that many dark types are unfairly stigmatized, on the other hand, there is some precedent that this line needs close monitoring.

General care: The inkay can be quite a sensitive pokemon. It utilizes lights and colours from it's luminescent spots to communicate with others, and as such is easily overwhelmed and distressed by bright flashing lights in its environment. Strobe lights, certain kinds of lightbulbs and phone cameras can upset and disorientate it.

Despite it's sweet appearance and nervous disposition, this pokemon is strongly carnivorous. You will need to look into feeder pokemon, as it is known to refuse kibble.

Though it looks like an aquatic pokemon, it's actually a forest dweller, and doesn't really like to get wet.

Malamar are larger, and thus require larger prey. If you deeply trust it, taking it hunting in the woods is one way of keeping it both distracted and fed, though you will need to keep up with parasite treatments, as some wild pokemon aren't in the best of health. As well, keep them out of woods with endangered pokemon.

The edges of a malamars mantle can be sharp. Caution is advised.

Overall, in terms of feeding and housing, the inkay line is no different from many carnivorous pokemon, though it's aversion to bright lights is something to note.

Be careful when handling it or playing around, as there is some evidence that turning inkay upside down when it's older can trigger evolution. Care rating: Orange

Training: Inkay are sweet, nervous and often look for protection. Forming a close, trusting bond is the number one way of preventing the malamar from going down a dark route. Pay attention to it's behaviour and flashes, and work to maintain a balance between not spoiling or coddling it, and caring for and respecting it's needs. Learn signs of distress and leave areas that are too bright, but don't let it whine for treats, and so forth.

A well bonded malamar with solid trust in its trainer will generally follow orders both in battle and out of it, but this trust must be both mutual and maintained. Training rating: Orange

Safety: When it comes to malamar, though you can train it out of using it's hypnotic flashes, it may try and push its luck if it really wants something. One good way of protecting yourself is a companion pokemon with something like Own Tempo, or another strong psychic type. Keep them close and they can help intervene if the malamar is trying to force you to empty the treat jar or whatever it's after.

Very dark sunglasses may also work against the worst of the flashes.

As well, keep an eye on yourself. Are you often feeling dizzy or out of sorts? Are you losing time? Are people reporting you aren't acting like yourself? These are red flags that something might be going on. If you suspect your malamar is exploiting you, contact the pokemon rangers immediately.

There have been verified reports of wild malamar using their abilities for sinister purposes. But at the same time, equally reliable reports of other wild malamar rejecting and attacking the dangerous ones. It seems as if, much like humans, there are malamar who make bad choices.

I wouldn't recommend this line for children. Both for malamars sharp edges and the entire lines disorientating flashes.

If you have epilepsy or are prone to sensory overload, this pokemon is not for you. Safety rating: Orange

Overall ranking. While overall the line isn't evil, per say, it does require a lot of sustained work and monitoring. Trust is easily broken and very difficult to repair, and you have to be consistent and aware of both your actions and the pokemons.

This pokemon scores orange across the board as while it isn't lethally dangerous, it is definitely not for first time owners.

#pokemon #pokemon care #pokemon irl #inkay #malamar

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heich0e · 1 year ago

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if you've sent in an ask lately that i didn't respond to, it may be answered under the cut! i'll be dividing these posts up by general subject matter so no one has to scroll for too long to find any asks they may have sent. feel free to block the tag #liv got mail if you don't like seeing posts like this. i'm sorry to have kept you waiting, and p.s. i love you very much <3

part two: general inquiries ✉

✉ Anonymous asked: omg liv did you watch the barbie movie

I HAVENT SEEN IT YET!!! when i tell u that everything that can happen in a lifetime has happened to me in the past 14 calendar days i am NOT!! KIDDING!! but i have plans to go see it with two of my best friends (either this weekend or early next week) and we've all secretly planned pink outfits and we're going out for drinks too it's going to be SOOOOOOOOO FUN!! oh how i love being a woman!!

✉ Anonymous asked: Liv i got my underarms waxed and it hurt. Have you ever gotten your underarms waxed? If so did you bleed a bit? Cause I did and I wanna know if that’s normal lol

i've gotten waxes but not my underarms but a quick google told me pinpoint bleeding is probably ok?? that being said i am about the LEAST qualified person on this beautiful earth to whom u could direct this question. what's next? questions about cars?? taxes?? i am not smart enough 4 this!!

✉ Anonymous asked: Liv is it true that your work can access all your social media accounts thru your email? If so, I may need to make another acc

hi friend i am no cyber security whiz by any means but i always operate under the assumption that anything that comes into or goes out of or is in anyway linked to a company email BELONGS to the company. i treated my college email the same way. even using company wifi is dicey in terms of privacy, so just use your best judgement and i would advise that it's always better to err on the side of caution <3

✉ Anonymous asked: real talk liv how long after sending a text should i stop waiting for a reply back because i feel like a sad SIMP

u know what i am probably biased here bc i am TRULY the worst texter in the world. my phone has been on do not disturb since at least 2019. i do not wish to be contacted ever (unless i'm texting u first in which case i expect an immediate response tysm xo)

with that in mind, i think it's not fair to CONSTANTLY expect immediate communication bc a lot of factors play into that (work, social lives, sleep, time actively trying to be unplugged, current mental state, etc.) HOWEVER!! when it comes to romantic dalliances (which i am interpreting this as and i'm sorry if i'm misreading) i think there's kind of fair expectation of communication if interest if reciprocated. i know it's so cringe n cliche but the whole "if they wanted to they would" thing has at least a vein of truth in it, so if you feel like ur energy/effort isn't being met (especially if it was previously and this is a sudden change) i think that's always a bit of a red flag. maybe not red. yellow? or like a deep yellow veering on orange.

sending u love little guy and wishing u all the best!! u deserve to be the SIMPEE not the SIMPER <3

#liv got mail

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ecoamerica · 2 months ago

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brynn-lear · 6 months ago

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Pierro watches you all night, checking your pulse every so often.

Hello hi yes welcome back to my TEDTalks. This will NOT be organized cause HHAHAH since when has my thoughts been organized? Anyways the orange lines were stuff i screen shotted on like my 1st read thru weeks ago but I forgot most of the context as to why HAHAH anyways blue lines are for today. Ps: i can't find my savior drawing i am sad all over-

EVERYONE PLEASE WELCOME MY WIFEEEEEE!!! THIS IS SAVIOR!!! MY PRETTIEST KINDEST WONDERFUL-EST BEAUTIFUL-EST ("brynn, most is a word.") GUARDIAN EVERRRRR IN ALL UNIVERSE MWAHMWAH MY BELOVED MY DEAREST OH THERE'S MIST IN MY EYE

OKAY THIS PART I JUST SIMP FOR SAVIOR: idk why i absolutely love how she hits so much different- like, it's 100% a matter of tastes I'm not pitting your bad bitches (darlings) against each other, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I just??? Love her so much??? In her as well??? She's so sweet and so kind and not at all discriminatory AND SHE SACRIFICED HER POSITION TO SAVE PIERRO??? LIKE??? YOU CAN REMOVE THE YANDERE TAG I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THE FEELING ISN'T MUTUAL AND THAT THEY'RE NOT BOTH DEVOTED TO EACH OTHER IN SUCH A BEAUTIFUL WAY NU UH I'M NOT SEEING RED FLAGS WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT-

She's so... She's so!!!! Wonderful. She's like "this poor guy... I'm gonna accompany him!" What a pure soul... Literally. What a pure soul...

FIRST: i love this line for the dumbest reason cuz I imagined Pierro just raising an eyebrow and going "you REALLY think I need a guardian angel I'm not THAT geriatric—"

SECOND: lmfao ngl if I'm in pierro's position I'd cry and thank Savior for caring about me. Me and my affection denied ass. This will turn out differently if I'm her soulmate-

THIRD: another damn reason why savior is best girl like she doesn't care what other angels think she's just there to support...! So beautiful... So much grace... Oh I love her...

Yeah, add me in there and it would be the worst reunion of the century. Not as terrible as Fodlan's class reunion with my beloved but like— yes. If I was there I'd throw hands I'll side with Savior let's mess em up my queen. There's also an arle SS save on my phone but the photos are limited so let's pretend I sent that one with multiple heart scribbles. Yes. I know. There's none for dain. He doesn't deserve my lov- /silly. I also had SS of dottore with me writing down "AHEM." on the first mention of the angel killer but alas there's only 10 pic limit on tumblr and this ain't about u dottore /JJJJ

I'm kidding also dain ily, but in a "you're dimitri in the genshin art style" way- /shot

Like I said, orange lines are my first reading. I don't remember the damn context as to why i highlighted that. But I'm willing to bet I yelled "OH SHIT" LMAO

Today: okay reread- yeah it was definitely an OH SHIT moment HAHAHAH- also I'm gonna hiss loudly at this fallen guy. Nu uh. You're not separating my parents this is a happy family you're in the WRONG HOUSE, FOOL-

Another instance or "idk why I highlighted that but I bet girlie was absolutely shooked" HAHAHHA

Today: yep. I am definitely disorganized cuz this comes first before the one on top but anyways SAVIOR IS SUCH A QUEEN LIKE WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED TO CONVINCE ME SHE'S THE GREATEST OF ALL TIME??? SHE'S SO..AAAAAAAAAHHHHH- I WANT SOMEONE WHO WOULD DO THIS FOR ME, PLATONICALLY OR ROMANTICALLY I DON'T CARE I JUST WANT A SAVior in my life because I'm usually surrounded by "sorry, no can do. Ps if you tell ur family theyll scold u" so I've learned to do most things alone even on dangerous scenarios lmao savior why aren't you real and savior why not pick me. PICK ME. PICK ME I'LL BE A PICK ME GIRL FOR YOU WHY NOT ME SAVIOR-

I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS LINE- i do not know why but honestly couple goals HAHAH (note: i am not endorsing yandere behavior in real life-). I lowkey wanna be at his mercy too because all I'm seeing for the entire fic is a green flag man who will take care of you??? And you guys are established friends??? Honestly wouldn't take that long for me to give my consent??? Honestly savior you got one of the better yans??- /shot

Ngl i chuckled rereading this part because I tried reading it as a self insert and not me reading my parent's love story and damn 💀. Earlier today I was playing an otome game and sent videos of me sobving about how another husband of mine is fricking dying and Estella replied to me (copy pasted) with these messages:

"i love how hes a brunette just like oda and gallagher."

"he dies too."

"the brynn lear curse."

"itsa good thing u dont have a crush in real life cuz imagine the next day he gets diagnosed with cancer /jjj"

And you know what? I can now understand you savior 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Okay I've ran out of space to screen shot but you get the picture hHAHAHA ANYWAYS YEAH FIRST READING I REMEMBER GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET WHEN SAVIOR SAVED PIERRO AND I STILL GIGGLED THIS TIME AROUND SO YOU KNOW THIS IS A CERTIFIED SAVIOR X READER MWAH THANK YOU JESSAMINE FOR THE SAVIOR CONTENT THERE IS NO ONE ELSE IN THE WORLD WHO CAN DO SAVIOR LIKE YOU, BLESS YOUR SOUL-

⋆˚♱ଘ Annular Eclipse ଓ♱˚⋆

A long time ago, I binge-watched The Ancient Magus’ Bride and that decision came back to haunt me in my Church AU…… *evil laugh*

As always, thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this piece!! And to my dear mutuals, I hope you all suffer enjoy the sinful story of Cartaphilus! Pierro x Angel! Darling ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Tw:: yandere, blood, violence, death, suicidal ideation, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 5.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Among God’s creations, His favorite is granted a special fate. Though all lives end in death, only humanity is blessed with salvation and afterlife. Those who live righteously may thus ascend to Heaven, whereas sinners are condemned to eternal suffering in Hell. There is, however, one exception—a fragment of humanity whose sins may never be forgiven.

♡ Legends speak of Khaenri’ah, the nation of sinners. Once the pride of humankind, its citizens challenged God through their creations in alchemy and technology—and the entire nation was subsequently destroyed in a sea of flames. In the wake of the Cataclysm, pollen from the Tree of Life rained down upon the survivors, afflicting them with their final punishment, immortality.

♡ Since then, Khaenri’ahns have roamed the mortal plane in a perpetual state of living. Denied a place in Heaven and Hell, they are cursed to live forever no matter what harm befalls their body and psyche. Due to their wicked reputation, they must also live in fear of their once-fellow humans, lest they face persecution. For this reason, eternity differs among Khaenri’ahns, with a unique fate reserved for the one who goes by the name of Pierro.

♡ After the Cataclysm, Pierro led a group of survivors to Snezhnaya where they established a new home. For three centuries, it was a peaceful haven hidden from the divine gaze of God and the Church…until it was exposed by a traitor and destroyed with manmade flames. In the ensuing chaos, Pierro was the sole “survivor” in the sense that he managed to escape. The rest were critically wounded, buried alive, and left to suffer for all eternity.

♡ Having lost his second home, Pierro began a search for other Khaenri’ahns, only to be further disillusioned. Many communities had also fallen to ruin, if not from persecution but by their own madness. Others, blinded by dreams of death, had resorted to violence and witchcraft in their fruitless attempts to break the curse. And several individuals had embarked on quests for the Tree of Life, only to disappear far away from their homeland. In two more centuries, Khaenri’ah was reduced to a forgotten myth, and Pierro had lost all hope for his people.

♡ So when he gets into an accident, he sees no point in saving himself. If he were younger, he’d be horrified at the thought of falling off a cliff. At best, he’d end up with more scars albeit another permanent reminder of his tragic fate. As for the worst-case scenario, he’d become paralyzed, trapped below the cliff, doomed to eternity as a living corpse. But now, hanging off the edge by his fingertips, he considers the possibility that his head takes the brunt of the impact. A coma would be the closest thing to a reprieve from his waking hell.

♡ Just as his grip weakens, a hand reaches out and catches his wrist. The action is so sudden, so forceful, that Pierro has no time to think before he is pulled up and his back hits the grass. Above him, eclipsing his view of the sun, is the face of a stranger. A tearful expression. A kind gaze that seems to pierce through his soul.

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call for help?! You poor thing, I’m sorry for only seeing you now.”

“I am…” He averts your gaze and instead focuses on the sky. It is the color of twilight—a harmony of blues, oranges, and reds that pale in comparison to the crimson skies of his nightmares. “...fine. Thank you for your kindness.”

♡ Once the shock wears off, Pierro takes a careful look at his savior. You have the appearance of a typical human, roughly the same age as he was when his body stopped aging. Definitely not a Khaenri’ahn, given your lack of cursed marks and star-shaped pupils. Neither are there any religious symbols on your clothing, which is a relief. As for your tears shed on his behalf…he’ll chalk it up to pity.

♡ At your insistence, you treat him to a meal at the nearest inn. When Pierro introduces himself as an ordinary traveler, you make a similar claim and suggest journeying together. It is a tempting offer—the both of you are alone with no destination in mind, and you seem harmless. So against his better judgment, Pierro accepts your proposal.

♡ Over time, he warms up to his new companion. You are kind, competent, a bright presence in his life. Traveling with you is like seeing the world with new eyes—you lead him to bustling cities, picturesque forests, places teeming with life. The only downside is your visits to the Church for prayers and chats with the local priests, but you at least seem to be an open-minded believer. You always tell Pierro that he doesn’t need to follow along but he does so anyway, if only to evade suspicion and admire the religious art with you.

♡ Other than that, you don’t reveal much about yourself. But you aren’t one to pry into Pierro’s past so he gives you the same courtesy. At times, he finds himself looking at you fondly, feeling a spark of physical attraction, dreaming of a happy future with you. But those delusions are always dashed by the fact of your humanity, so he instead resolves to cherish what little time you have left before death claims your soul.

♡ That was his goal until he begins to notice certain…oddities. It’s common for the two of you to share a tent, a room, sometimes even a bed. Neither of you are fazed by it, especially when Pierro’s main concern is concealing his cursed marks with makeup. But a few months into your travels, he makes a quiet realization: In those nights of shared slumber, not once has he fallen asleep without feeling your gaze on him.

♡ At first, he assumes that you merely sleep later and wake up earlier than him. But every time Pierro wakes up in the middle of the night, you immediately sit up and tend to him, acting as energetic as usual. Neither do you appear lethargic after nights when it is difficult to sleep. So he puts it to the test by regularly chatting with you late into the night; you always follow along, not once sounding tired nor in want of sleep. Once, he talks to you all night long and in the morning, while Pierro is plagued with fatigue, you look perfectly awake. And only when he subtly points it out do you yawn and go back to bed.

♡ Other mysteries follow. There is the time the two of you trekked through a barren wasteland and ran out of food. It took you two days to reach civilization and while Pierro was starving, you never complained about hunger. If anything, you still managed to walk and fight off beasts at your usual energy levels. And on the rare chance that Pierro is injured, you are the one who treats his wounds…and they always heal at an unnaturally fast pace.

♡ A year into your travels, he decides to look for answers. One night, he shares a bed with you and feigns sleep. For the next few hours, he just lies there and takes note of your unnatural way of sleeping—no slowed breaths, no involuntary movements, yet the persistent feeling that he is still being watched. Shortly after midnight, he pulls out a dagger from under his pillow and aims it at you.

♡ It was only a test to see if you’d react quickly and reveal your ruse. Which is exactly what you do, eyes fluttering open and your hand catching the dagger before Pierro can stop short of stabbing your chest. The look on your face is calm, utterly devoid of fear, and you make no move to leave the bed. You just stare at him with the same piercing gaze.

“Good morning,” you tell him. “Are you going to explain the sudden wakeup call? I don’t believe this is rooted in any Khaenri’ahn practices.”

At the mention of his homeland, Pierro’s grip on the dagger tightens. “So it appears that my suspicions were not unfounded. Answer me, are you a spy of the Church?”

Your answer is a benevolent smile. A soft light shines from your body as a halo—silver, pierced with nails—appears behind your head, followed by a wispy veil. Luminous wings emerge from your back, caging Pierro in a feathery embrace.

Your hand, marked with a bloodstained scar, wraps around his wrist.

“I’m your guardian angel,” you whisper.

♡ Technically, your statement is untrue. In a calm voice, you explain that Khaenri’ahns can’t be assigned guardian angels due to their immortality. Moreover, most angels harbor contempt for his kind though you are a rare exception, having taken pity on Pierro and chosen to become his unofficial guardian. The last part triggers an offended response—are you mocking him?

♡ As for your true nature, you’re the leader of the Archangels. As an angel of the Third Sphere, you are one of the closest to humanity, a divine messenger with the additional tasks of providing blessings and guiding humans towards the path of righteousness. Only, you’re currently on a ten-year “break;” it just so happened that you noticed Pierro at the start of your sabbatical.

♡ Once he is confident that you won’t smite him in cold blood, he goes to sleep—it’s been a long night and fatigue will only dull his senses. When he wakes up, he can almost believe that last night’s events were a dream…until you loom over him in your true form, wishing him a good morning. After a long conversation, he decides to continue traveling with you. That way, he can keep a close eye on you and gain some useful knowledge.

♡ Thus resumes your journey. In addition to Pierro’s distrust, there are major changes to your dynamic. You still travel in your human guise but you switch to your true form when it’s just the two of you. Since angels don’t need food or sleep to sustain themselves, you stop eating with him unless you’re in public. At night, only one bed is needed and you simply watch over Pierro, wishing him a peaceful slumber. Your gentle gaze is always the last thing he sees each day, though it takes months before he can fall asleep comfortably.

♡ He also learns about your nightly pastimes. As it turns out, while Pierro is asleep, you like to fly around the city to help lost souls. Just small acts of kindness in your human form…and if needed, divine interventions in the Church. It explains why he often wakes up to news about corrupt priests who experienced “visions of an angel” and publicly confessed their sins.

♡ Along your journey, you also stop by the homes of the humans previously assigned to you. At the beginning of each visit, you go to the cemetery and speak to their grave. Afterwards, you bring Pierro to their favorite places and reminisce about their lives. When he asks why you can’t simply see them in Heaven, you give him a sad smile and explain that the deceased reside in a realm beyond the jurisdiction of angels. In a paradise where every soul is purged of sin, what use is there for an angel’s guidance?

♡ You mourn the lives of angels as well. It comes as a shock to Pierro, the idea that even an angel is susceptible to death. To which you explain that many of your divine siblings were killed by demons. And because afterlife does not exist for spiritual beings, both species simply cease to exist once their lives have ended. As for your former brethren, they cut all ties with you after their descent.

♡ Slowly, Pierro grows to trust you again. It helps that you were able to prove yourself a year later by saving him from your own kind. Granted, he could suspect that it was merely an act but the sight of a Principality cowering before you, their cassock staked to the floor by silver nails, is quite convincing. Not to mention your cold gaze overflowing with wrath.

“So tell me. Why exactly did you attack my dear human?”

The room is silent, save for the younger angel’s whimpers. To think that a few minutes ago, Pierro had been sleeping peacefully. Now he stands beside you, blood trickling from a cut under his scarred eye, still gripping his unused sword.

“I…” Despite being a rank above you, his attacker is clearly terrified. “But ______, that man…he is one of the accursed sinners! He—”

“Now, now.” You kneel to their level but all kindness is lost in your tone. More nails appear out of thin air, all pointing towards the angel’s body. “Look me in the eye when I am talking to you.”

♡ In the end, the angel kneels before Pierro and begs for forgiveness. He accepts their apology, but not without harsh words and a swipe of his sword against their face. After they leave, you worriedly turn to Pierro and heal his injuries. Thanks to your powers, all of his wounds close up without a trace. Still, when you take your hand off his face, what he sees in the mirror is not his healed cheek but the cursed marks exclusive to Khaenri’ahns.

*✧･ﾟ

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Despite the nature of the attack, you are the one acting emotional. A tear rolls down your cheek as you trace the cursed side of Pierro’s face.

“You need not apologize on behalf of your brethren,” he mutters. He glances at his right arm, sleeve pulled up to reveal a similar pattern of blue veins and black markings. “...or your Heavenly Father. And I believe I’ve told you countless times not to waste your tears on me.”

“Still.” Shaking your head, you look him in the eye. “How can I not cry every time I gaze into your soul? I wish I could save you, put an end to your pain…but it’s impossible.”

“So why do you still devote yourself to me, ______?”

______. It is the false name you go by in the human realm, spoken by every person who has known you as their guardian angel. As for your true name, it remains a mystery to Pierro.

Still, he’d like to believe that he is the human who knows you best. He knows that you are the First Archangel, one of the oldest beings in existence. He knows that you were opposed to the Cataclysm but powerless in stopping it. He knows that your decade of rest was caused by an accumulation of stress, an endless cycle of giving and saving and sacrificing which will only continue in a few years’ time.

And what then? At the end of your journey, will you still have time for him? Or is he truly cursed to drift aimlessly in eternal solitude?

His half-mask rests on a nearby drawer, a relic from his second home. He picks it up, thumb pressed against a painted gold tear.

“You astound me,” he continues. “You, of all people, know that salvation is forever beyond my grasp. And yet you continue to spare me absolute grace. Anyone else would have deemed me a lost cause.”

“That is because I love you.”

At that, Pierro nearly drops his mask. He turns to you, starry eyes wide with wonder. “Can you kindly repeat that?”

But the moment he sees your face, he realizes his folly.

“I love you,” you tell him, a soft look in your eyes, “as I love all humans.”

Has kindness ever sounded so cruel?

“...I understand.” He puts down his mask, pride shattered. “Such is to be expected from a being for whom the love for humanity is inherent.”

A love which he and his compatriots are no longer beholden to.

“But of course.” At that, your countenance turns reverent. Your wings fold inwards, and you place a bloodstained hand over your chest. “An angel’s purpose is to serve God and to save His creations. Beyond that, there is no other point to our existence.”

Silence. This time, Pierro doesn’t bother to hide his judgment.

“Well, that is our initial reason,” you add, noticing his expression. “After all, what’s not to love when your kind is capable of so many wonderful things? Really, you never fail to surprise us.”

“How so?”

“I’ll confess, many of us angels were once in awe of Khaenri’ah,” you admit. “Think of it: Your people found a way to create life, sorcery, powers that were once exclusive to God. Had I met you during your days as a royal mage, I surely would have been impressed.”

Hard to say. Despite his previous status, Pierro hasn’t practiced Khaenri’ahn sorcery in years. It’s likely that his powers have eroded alongside his spirit.

“Then only a century after the Cataclysm, there was the Angel-Killer who performed miracles using our flesh. As a matter of fact…I made the mistake of assigning his first victim to him.”

Your grief isn’t lost on him. The bed creaks as you take a seat next to Pierro, adjusting the chain of mourning lockets around your waist. It bears mementos of both humans and angels.

“Thirteen angels lost their lives to him, including two of my dearest siblings. Needless to say, we were all relieved when Il Dottore finally died, though I had to be given a century’s worth of rest to recover from grief. Sohreh, Pasithea, Oizys…I still think of them to this day.”

Il Dottore. He is an infamous figure in history, a priest whose sins rivaled those of Khaenri’ah. And yet even he was granted the mercy of death.

“And there are the humans I was blessed to watch over,” you tell him, eyes shining with tears. “I remember all of their names, their smiles, every achievement they made in their short lives. And I’m sure that there will be more in the future.”

That is the final nail in the coffin.

“You are right.” With that, Pierro leaves the bed. “As such, there is no need for you to dwell on how the world is now. I have no doubt that many souls owe their salvation to you, ______, and anyone would be a fool to dismiss your efforts.”

“...Thank you. It means a lot.”

You don’t let him leave, however. A hand around his wrist is all it takes for Pierro to stop, to yield to your embrace. In the dim room, you are the only source of light, an idol of unparalleled benevolence. Divine, beautiful, yet never within his reach.

“Eight more years,” you tell him. In your eyes, his reflection has never looked more hopeful. “That is the amount of time we have left. And until then, I will never leave your side.”

*✧･ﾟ

♡ The next eight years are content. More travels. Deep conversations. Peaceful nights. Another angelic encounter, in which a subordinate merely reported to you and avoided Pierro’s gaze. At one point, you reveal to him that the Tree of Life is no longer in the human realm, eliminating any hope of breaking the curse. His devastation is softened by your comfort, and he can only imagine the reactions of his compatriots if they knew this truth.

♡ Not that he has anyone to share it with. In the Church of Fontaine, Pierro is surprised to recognize the head priest as a Khaenri’ahn. She is only a descendant and thus spared from the curse—a blessing for Arlecchino, a tragedy for her ancestor who likely mourned the generations between them. After their chat, Pierro leaves without divulging her lineage. It’s enough to know that one of his kind is leading a fulfilling life, though he finds it ironic that a Church ended up in a Khaenri’ahn’s hands.

♡ Other than her, there is the familiar face he spotted in Inazuma. Blond hair, blue eyes with star-shaped pupils, a distinctive half-mask…but before Pierro can approach Dainsleif, you grip his wrist and enable him to see the eagle-winged demon clinging to his former comrade. In a fearful whisper, you explain that she is one of Hell’s strongest demons, the slayer of countless angels. And when she turns in your direction, Pierro feels the weight of her crimson-gold glare. In the end, the two of you walk past them, preventing what could have been a bloody reunion.

♡ As your sabbatical reaches its end, Pierro finds himself making the most of your remaining time together. He smiles at you, holds your hand first, asks you more personal questions. Your travels also end in a surprise destination—a forest near Snezhnaya, concealed with divine mist. Leading the way, you explain that it was a meeting place for you and your closest siblings until they all perished, including the Virtue who created it. And when you turn to Pierro, asking if the area suits him…he accepts the gift with full gratitude.

♡ The last year is spent constructing a humble house in the heart of the forest. On the day of your departure, the two of you enjoy a final meal together. It’s bittersweet with recollections of your travels, though the mood dampens when Pierro asks about your angelic duties. With a sad smile, you tell him that you have a lot of work to do. At some point in your journey, you even laid eyes on a young human and applied for a position as their guardian angel.

♡ At midnight, Pierro goes to bed and you wish him good night for the last time. He only closes his eyes when you disappear, when he no longer feels your gaze on him, when the residual warmth of your embrace has been chilled by the night air. When he wakes up in the morning, you are nowhere to be found.

♡ In the following months, Pierro develops a new routine in the forest. Hunting, foraging, visiting the neighboring cities, admiring the aurora-colored sky, even practicing his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. He doesn’t see you again but there are hints of your visits—a luminous white feather, seeds for fauna exclusive to Mondstadt, a wound that healed overnight. Eventually, he gets used to sleeping in solitude again.

♡ One day, he decides to visit his old home. He knows it is futile to seek out his people; after two centuries, their bodies must’ve fully decayed and mixed with the soil. Still, he might as well see what the Church did with the area…and if he can take revenge on the traitor. So he packs his bags, leaves the forest, and travels to the other side of Snezhnaya.

♡ …There’s nothing left. When he reaches his destination, he finds a glorious city built over the mass grave of his people. Only the cold of eternal winter welcomes him back, but the entire city—the devout Snezhnayas, the stories of the city’s origins, the magnificent church in place of his old house—is unfamiliar. Not even the traitor remains. Perhaps they, too, were given a coffin, forever trapped below layers of ice and concrete.

♡ He gets an answer on his way back to the forest. Near the border of Snezhnaya, Pierro is ambushed by a group of heretics…and when he demands an explanation, their leader holds up a preserved eye, the pupil shaped like a four-pointed star. As their fight continues, Pierro deduces their motives—to achieve immortality using the flesh of Khaenri’ahns. It’s pure mockery to hear those fools refer to his curse as a blessing, but his warnings fall on deaf ears as he is outnumbered.

♡ Just as he is about to lose hope, a bright light shines above him. It’s you, in all of your angelic glory, commanding the heretics to let him go. Most of his attackers fall to their knees, in awe of your divine presence, but their leader interprets it as a sign that Pierro is truly the person they’re after. They swing their sword at him…only for their entire group to be impaled by your nails.

♡ It’s a bloody sight. But once your wrath has subsided, you fly down to Pierro and check his condition. You’re incoherent, healing his wounds with trembling hands, apologizing for your late arrival. He assures you that he is fine, only to be interrupted by a sudden ray of light. But this one is blindingly bright, coming from the sky, the same holy light which shone upon Khaenri’ah during the Cataclysm.

♡ It hits him just then: In harming those humans for his sake, you’d violated one of God’s orders. Yet in the midst of His divine wrath, you muster a false smile and tell Pierro to go home. Then you fly up into the sky, disappearing above the clouds along with the holy light. He does as he is told, but not without killing all of the heretics to ensure that they won’t come after him or more Khaenri’ahns. As for the traitor…he doesn’t bother to ask for their location.

♡ The forest is the same when he returns. The next few hours pass by in a blur—unpacking, checking the animal traps, cooking dinner, and so on. The whole time, he can’t stop worrying about you. He doesn’t know if God would listen to his prayers but he tries, anyway; it’s not like he can help you in any other way.

♡ He goes to bed early, only to jolt awake when a flash of light illuminates the bedroom. When he rushes to the window, it’s just in time to see a falling star. It shoots through the sky, outshining the auroras, a beautiful sight if not for the fact that it seems to be drawing closer to him. It disappears from his range of vision, followed by a deafening sound and a severe earthquake. Then the world falls silent, returning to its tranquil state.

♡ After a few minutes, Pierro leaves his house to investigate. Seeing how the meteor bypassed the divine barrier of the forest, he doubts it was a natural phenomenon. You once told him that the Fourth Order of angels, the Dominions, are in charge of the celestial bodies—could they have been ordered to destroy his third home?

♡ Thankfully, the destruction is limited to a crater at the edge of the forest. But instead of a meteor, he finds you curled up in pain. Fragments of your halo pierce your body. Your right wing is gone; all that remains of it are clipped feathers and sawed bone. Most prominent are the curved horns jutting from your head, covered in a mix of blood and torn skin. You became a demon.

♡ Your half-conscious cries prompt him into action. Carefully, Pierro carries you to his house and treats your wounds. When he notices your hand on your stomach, he remembers what you said about demons needing food and sleep to survive. So he heats up some soup and feeds it to you; and once your hunger has subsided, he tucks you in bed. In your delirium, you can only muster a single sentence before falling asleep.

“Pierro? I’m sorry…it’s my fault, not yours.”

“Silence. We may talk tomorrow. But tonight, you must rest.”

♡ That night, you sleep for the first time. Pierro watches you all night, checking your pulse every so often. When you wake up, the sun is high above the sky and Pierro has already cooked lunch. You’re more coherent now, able to feed yourself, though you wince in pain every so often. And when Pierro asks about your descent, your expression darkens.

♡ In a shaky voice, you explain that the heretics’ ambush had been a test from God. It was fated to occur at the same time as an important event in Heaven, the decennial meeting between God and the leaders from all Nine Orders. As soon as Pierro’s name was brought up, you were quick to defend him. And when you were informed of the attack, you stormed out of the meeting to save him, fully aware that it would bring about your downfall.

♡ And despite it all, you’re the one apologizing to him—for your late arrival, for the danger he was put through, for the “burden” of taking care of you. At the last part, Pierro finally finds the words to chastise you, to say that you won’t achieve anything by wasting your tears on Heaven.

“I wish you would not think so lowly of me. After all these years, do you truly believe that I would harbor anything but gratitude towards you?”

♡ That shuts you up. For the next few weeks, you meekly accept Pierro’s care—he cooks for you, dresses your wounds, lets you sleep in his bed. There is only one problem: Your body refuses to heal. Blood continues to seep from your wounds, and you’re in a perpetual state of pain. Still, he faithfully tends to you day and night. It’s the least he can do for you.

♡ One day, he leaves the house to pick fruit and comes back to find a dark silhouette in his bedroom window. He rushes inside, armed with a weapon, to find a demon. Only, they’re kneeling by the bed, holding your hands, shedding tears of joy. That is when he notices the bloodstained scars on their hands, their tattered veil, your kind words for them…they, too, are a fallen Archangel.

♡ All peace, however, is dashed when your former subordinate tells Pierro that they are bringing you “home,” in other words Hell. As for the matter of your health, they claim that while your divine punishment is unheard of, they should be able to find a cure…from Il Dottore of all people. And despite your conflicted expression, it’s clear that you are seriously considering their invitation. Only for Pierro to take that choice away from you.

“And what makes you believe that I would allow ______ to leave our home?”

♡ Prior to you, Pierro never would’ve dared to challenge a spiritual being. But now, after all he’s been through, he takes a step forward and tells the demon to leave. It doesn’t take long for their argument to turn physical. But before the demon can smite him, Pierro defends himself with his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. They’re a formidable opponent, however, and the fight continues until he aims a galaxy-like aura at their heart. Quickly, you protect your former subordinate with a shield of rusty nails, only for the element to refract and hit you instead.

♡ Much to everyone’s relief, however, it has a different effect on you. Your feathers take on a black tint and a deep blue iridescence. The same thing happens to your horns. Most importantly, all of your wounds close up, leaving scars identical to Pierro’s cursed marks. And when he rushes to your side, asking if you are all right, you breathily tell him that you feel so much better.

♡ That is what convinces the demon to leave, but not without promising to return once they’ve informed the Devil. With peace restored in your home, the two of you go downstairs for lunch. You still need Pierro to support you, but it’s the first time you’ve managed to walk in your new form. And your appetite is bigger, healthier compared to your previous portions.

♡ After a few days however, the effect wears off. Your body loses its blue luster, your feathers fade to their original color, your pain returns. Once you’ve fully reverted to your original state, Pierro decides to try out his Khaenri’ahn sorcery again. This time, he holds your wrist and carefully channels his power into you…and it produces the same healing effect.

♡ For the sorcery which doomed his nation to save the life of his beloved…the irony leaves him at a loss of words, on the verge of laughing. But it does explain why you landed in Pierro’s home instead of Hell, and why God allowed the two of you to reunite. The knowledge brings a dark smile to his face. You’re at his mercy now, dependent on him for all eternity.

♡ When he faces you, he can tell that you’ve reached the same conclusion. Still, you entertain the thought of moving to Hell—surely, there must be a way for you to live without forcing Pierro to expend his energy on you. That is when he grips your hands, pulls you towards him, and tells you that you aren’t leaving him. If the two of you are truly fated to suffer, then it is only right that he returns all of the love you have given him.

♡ It’s easy to persuade you. After all you’ve experienced, you’re tired so you just nod and lean into his embrace. And in the following days, you slowly adjust to your new life. You help Pierro around the forest. A new bed is built, to fit two people. At night, the two of you engage in your usual bedtime conversations but you’re the one who falls asleep first.

♡ When your former subordinate returns, Pierro stands his ground. With you asleep, he is able to fight them outside and easily subdue them; he even had the wisdom to enhance his weapons with blood from your used bandages. And with his argument that any attempt on his life is equal to risking yours, they have no choice but to accept your situation.

♡ You’re still asleep when he returns to your shared bedroom. Careful not to wake you, he changes out of his bloody clothes and leaves his sword on the table, next to his old mask. Then he takes off his glove and traces your features with his cursed hand. And when you open your eyes, the look he gives you is one of pure hope.

“Pierro? What time is it?” you mumble.

“Far too early,” he replies. “Go back to sleep. I will join you shortly, ______.”

“...All right.” Yawning, you snuggle into the pillow and close your eyes. “Can you wake me up later? I don’t want to oversleep again.”

He smiles, caressing your cheek. “If you wish.”

It doesn’t take long for you to return to the world of dreams. Your sleeping face is truly a wonder to behold—an expression so tranquil, well-rested, vulnerable to his kiss.

“And when you awake, I want you to tell me your true name.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

..…Don’t ask me how Pierro ended up with the highest word count in this AU. All I can say is that it was very cathartic to make him suffer, which is a recurring theme in his fics. If y’all enjoyed his story, do let me know (๑･̑◡･̑๑)

Also, soft launch for the next couple + story!! I’m rlly excited to write for Dainsleif, and just know that he’s in for a lot of surprises <3

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @naraven @euniveve @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @oofasleep @mistymem0ryy @lazyroseart @teabutmakeitazure

#yandere genshin #$ traded papers #yandere genshin x reader #yandere #yanderecore #tw: yandere #yandere gi #genshin x reader #yandere male #yandere pierro x reader

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noteguk · 4 years ago

Text

any way you want it | kth | m

— summary; in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself.

— contents and warnings; smut, childhood best friends, Taehyung x reader, bigdick!tae, breast play, oral (f receiving), dry grinding, dirty talk, tae has a praise kink, unprotected sex (be responsible!!), rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Taehyung takes things personally but he has good intentions, this is what happens when mutual thirst gets suppressed for years of friendship

— words; 6.6k

— author’s note; i have no idea why but this fic was so fucking hard to put down into words??? I felt mentally constipated the entire time but it’s finally here

Taehyung wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when you called him at almost two in the morning, complaining about your newest nightmarish date and practically begging to come over. Like the good friend that he was, he made sure to tell you that you would be more than welcome to join him in his newest documentary marathon about aliens, and wondered if you could bring him some takeout on your way over there. Like the bad friend that you were, you said no.

To be fair, the nearest takeout place was across the city from his apartment (about thirty minutes away and in a bad neighborhood), and you were already having a horrible night as it was. Besides, you refused to take part in Taehyung’s search for a high blood pressure and cholesterol levels, arguing that it wasn’t the right time to stuff his face full of hypercaloric noodles.

But you did pity him enough to comply with his second request: a big pot of vanilla ice cream, which you were sure you’d end up consuming too. You were in a crisis.

As if to prove that the gods above were laughing at you, during the walk of shame to Taehyung’s apartment, it had started to rain (because of course it did), and your umbrella was only able to save you from the shoulders up before it crumbled and flew away from your gasp, rolling on the asphalt like a ball of dirt in a Wild West movie. By the time that you dragged yourself to his front door, you were completely soaked (and not in the way you had planned for that night to end), and about to break down crying.

Taehyung, like the angel that he was, helped you with your heavy coat and talked you into taking a warm shower before you got sick. He took the supermarket bag from you (where the ice cream had probably already melted) and walked you to this bathroom, excusing himself so he could grab you some dry clothes — and you only saw the ones he had picked when you got out of the shower.

With a silly smile dancing on your lips, you fumbled with the black booty shorts that Taehyung had jokingly gifted you that past Christmas — one that read “daddy’s juicy butt” in big, bold, neon pink letters over your ass — and then decided that your dignity was already dead by that point, so another kick wouldn’t hurt. Taehyung had also given you one of his favorite band shirts, which he only revealed during desperate times.

Your heart melted with the thought of your best friend trying to comfort you, and pulled the fabric close to your face so you could take a deep inhale, drowning in his scent. It smelled of that stupid cologne that Taehyung had used ever since he hit puberty, and a bit of fabric softener.

The two of you had an extremely close friendship, to the point that it got kind of strange at times. Ever since childhood, it was joked that you and Taehyung had been long lost soulmates — doing everything together, from going to school to laughing at the same exact jokes during movie marathons, often at the same moment and for the same amount of time. Before puberty hit (and the hormonal rage took over your first teenage years) you couldn’t remember disagreeing with him even once. You two had always been in sync.

But the uncomfortably close part only hit after you two went to college, and your anxiety for being a virgin in a sea of starving sharks got the best of you. After long conversations, you had managed to convince Taehyung to help you learn a thing or two about the art of naked wrestling.

Apparently it was weird to give your best friend a handjob and a blowjob for the sake of education. Go figure.

Regardless, your friendship wasn’t affected by any of that — even if you two had agreed to never mention any of it ever again — and you could always count on Taehyung to catch you when you fell.

Even if it was at two am on a Tuesday, after one of your nightmarish dates.

You threw yourself on the couch next to him, hugging your knees against your chest to form a barrier between you and the divine providence that had taken you to that point. You had half-assedly dried your hair, but pools of wetness had started to build on the back of Taehyung’s shirt.

Instead of accusing you of ruining his favorite piece of clothing, Taehyung reached for the remote and paused his documentary just as the narrator was starting to explain how hieroglyphs were actually part of an alien language. “Just tell me how bad it was,” he said, a mustache of ice cream melting over his top lip.

You took a peek at the bowl of melting vanilla on his center table, and decided that you would probably pass the desert for the night.

You glanced at him sideways, voice coming out monotone. “You sure you want to go down that path?”

Taehyung licked his sweet mustache off and nodded, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, hit me with it. You look like you need all the help that you can find.”

You sighed, turning around on the couch so you were facing him — legs still against your chest. “Okay so… I went to his place...”

“Yes…”

“And... we had dinner, talked for a bit.”

“How was the talk?” He asked.

You shook your head, trying to kill the memories inside. “He didn’t let me say a word. He just went on and on about this new website he’s working on, and how expensive his wine glasses were.” You scoffed, angry at yourself for ignoring the clear red flags of an arrogant douchebag. That was what the desperate need for immediate human connection could do to someone, you thought. “Apparently it’s supposed to be the next Facebook or something. Or twitter. I honestly wasn’t paying much attention.”

He chuckled. “Starting off strong.”

“That wasn’t even the main issue,” you said, lowering your forehead so it was touching your knees. You just wanted the world to end at that moment, so you wouldn’t have to go through those experiences again. “After that, we sat on his couch and started watching a movie. And you know how that goes, we started kissing, he pushed me down and got on top of me…”

“And?” He instigated.

With a sigh, you raised your head, meeting your friend’s gaze. Taehyung thought he had never seen you look so dead inside. And he had seen a lot from you. “And he humped like… my lower abdomen for about three minutes and came in his pants.”

Taehyung cringed visibly, taking one hand to cover his mouth. “Oh, man. That’s bad.”

You nodded, strangely relieved at his reaction. Part of you was worried that you were the evil witch in that scenario, that maybe you had done something wrong. “The worst,” you agreed. “Wanna know what else?”

“What? There’s more?”

“He didn’t even ask me if I was satisfied with whatever the hell that was.” You told him, bitterness dripping from your tongue. In the grand scheme of things, that was something silly to get mad over, but the fact that your date didn’t even have the guts to ask if you had gotten something out of that was ridiculous. “Not that I could possibly be. But it’s like he didn’t care and I was just a pillow for him to hump like a… sexually repressed religious teen, I don’t know.”

Taehyung only nodded, realizing that there wasn’t much that he could say to fix the situation. “Was he a good kisser at least?”

You sneered. “I think he was trying to crush my face with his.” You glanced at your friend, only half of his face bathed by the yellow and orange shades coming from the television. Maybe a documentary about ancient history and alien expeditions wouldn’t be so bad. Worst case scenario, it would knock you out, and you wouldn’t have to think about that mess anytime soon. “Also, too much tongue, just… the amount of saliva…”

“Got it. You can stop there.” Taehyung raised one hand, his eyes closing for a second. His palm lowered and met one of your knees, standing there in a silent attempt at consolation. “I’m sorry about your terrible date experience, dude.”

“If you could even call it that.” You ran one hand through your hair, suddenly overtaken by a wave of anger. “God! I was just… so… ugh! Like… ughhhh!!”

Taehyung, bless his heart, sometimes couldn’t understand the random neanderthal sounds you threw his way. “So... what?”

At last, your makeshift protection came crumbling down, and you collapsed on the couch dramatically, legs dangling off the edge. Taehyung thought that you were being possessed for exactly two seconds before you started talking again. “I did a full body shave for this night, Taehyung. Do you realize what that means?” His lips fell open, but, before he had the chance to answer, you continued. “It means that I really wanted to get railed tonight. Actually, I wanted to find a guy who actually knew what he was doing for once in my life.”

Taehyung chuckled, trying to disperse the tension in the room. “Come on, the dating pool can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” you said.

He wasn’t giving up that fast. “How bad?”

You raised your head to look him dead in the eyes, a silent threat, before finally uttering, “Try no-man-has-ever-made-me-cum bad,” and crashing your head back against the sofa.

If you weren’t so hyper-focused on your own sexual melodrama, you would have noticed the thick silence that fell between the two of you, Taehyung’s face contorting into fifty different emotions within a few seconds. He thought that he had heard it all — from the secrets hidden in Machu Picchu to the obvious extraterrestrial influence on earthy religion — but no amount of bad documentaries could ever prepare him for that revelation. That didn’t make any sense.

“Wait. Seriously?” He finally found his voice and managed to push his doubt out of his throat. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

You chuckled, humorless. “Oh no, I’ve had plenty of those. Just not from another person.”

“How’s that possible?” he asked.

“I ask myself that every single day.” You sighed, forcing yourself to sit back up. Taehyung was staring at you like you had just grown two extra arms, and you wondered what an amazing sex life he must’ve had for that confession to get him so confused. “Guess I’m just really bad at picking partners, who knows.”

There was a soft grunt on your throat as you fixed your position on the couch, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your entire day piling up at once. Your gaze mindlessly traveled to the TV — a big plasma monstrosity that Taehyung had bought compulsively during a Black Friday sale — looking at a white-bearded man pointing maniacally towards a specific, round-shaped hieroglyph. You didn’t even need to hit play to know that he was making it seem like it was an UFO, but curiosity got the best of you.

“Can you pass me the remote?” You asked, pointing at the small device that laid beyond Taehyung’s body. “I kinda wanna see what—”

“I’ve made tons of girls have orgasms,” Taehyung interrupted, looking at you like he had just clicked out of a transe.

You laughed at his monotone voice. “I’m happy for you, Tae.” You leaned over his legs so you could finally reach the remote. “That wasn’t a jab at your masculinity, I’m sure you’re a very caring partner, and I’m sure there’s tons of guys out there that—”

“I can make you cum too, if you want.”

You had just grabbed the small piece of plastic when his sentence hit you like a smack in the face, making you drop the remote back on the couch, eyes widening. “You… what?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, taking one hand to massage the back of his neck. “Did that sound as creepy as I think it did?”

“A bit, yeah.” You forced out a light chuckle, trying to break the ice. There was no sign of mockery in his voice, and you didn’t know how to react. You could not say that the offer wasn’t tempting (you’d be lying if you claimed that you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive), but his proposal was so oddly-placed that it sounded like a joke. “What are you talking about?”

Taehyung sighed, turning his head to look at the television. “I just think it’s really unfair that no one has ever made you cum before.”

You smiled. “That’s very nice of you, but…”

“And I want to help you with that.” He looked back at you. Oh, he was being a hundred percent serious. There was no longer a single ounce of doubt in your mind. “We’re friends, it’s not gonna be weird. We’ve done similar stuff before.”

“We were a lot younger, though.” You didn’t know why your mouth suddenly felt so dry, your fight or flight response kicking at full strength. You could tell that Taehyung was also trying to convince himself about the strangeness of the situation. “It’s gonna be kind of weird, yeah.”

“Not if we don’t make it weird,” he threw back. Was it bad that you were actually considering it? Maybe it was the piled-up exhaustion combined with the years of sexual frustration, maybe you were finally out of your mind. But you were really considering it. “I don’t wanna pressure you, alright? Just making a friendly offer. If you don’t want it, that’s fine.”

You kind of wanted it, though. There was too much accumulated libido inside you from years and years of unsatisfying partners, and you trusted Taehyung with your entire heart. It sounded like a safe enough bet: if all went to shit and it got too awkward, you two could just stop, no hard feelings. Besides, you knew that Taehyung cared about you, which was more than you could say about all your dates in the past couple years.

And the more you stared at him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, the more you grew soft under his presence. At once, you were hit with desires that you had never considered before: you wanted to kiss those soft lips, wanted to know how his large hands would feel around you. You really, really wanted to know how it was to have a good sexual experience with someone, and you couldn’t think of a better candidate than your best friend. Even if you still thought it could be seen as a little bit weird.

But you also kind of didn’t care.

You licked your lips, finally finding your voice after a long moment of silence. “How… how would you do it?”

Taehyung turned his head and looked at you, noticing the expectation in your eyes. “How would you want me to do it?” He asked.

You tried to think, but your mind was completely blank. What did you want him to do? What did you like? Suddenly you weren’t sure about anything anymore. “I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down.

Taehyung smiled at your nervousness, one of his hands moving to your chin and tilting your head up. “How ‘bout I start by kissing you?” He questioned, gaze flickering to your parted lips. “Is that alright?”

There were no words in your throat, so you simply nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned in.

Taehyung’s mouth tasted of vanilla and you thought, even for a moment, that you were in paradise. The second that his tender lips met yours, your anxiety melted away, giving space to a newfound flame of desire. Taehyung kissed you softly, sensually, taking his time caressing your mouth and drowning in your heat. His hand moved to the back of your head, pressing you closer to him and leaning your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.

He sighed heavily into your mouth when your tongues met, his other hand moving to hold your waist. The position on the couch was kind of awkward for kissing, with the two of you sitting side by side, so it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when Taehyung tugged you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

The kiss was starting to get hungrier, messier, a small whimper dying in your mouth when his palms traveled down to cup your ass, pressing you down against his semi-hard cock. Taehyung sighed and groaned at the feeling of you on top of him, loving the way that your fingers played with his hair, your body so perfectly tight against his. If there was any hesitation before, it had completely vanished by that point.

It caught you off guard when he suddenly broke off the kiss to ask you, “Do you like any pet names?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Hm? What?”

He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You know, you want me to call you by something?”

You realized that Taehyung was really taking that personal service to a different level, and you couldn’t say that you were let down by it. If any of your past partners had the dignity to ask what you liked, you wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. “I… like being called ‘baby’,” you told him.

Taehyung smiled. “That’s cute. Baby it is.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Taehyung’s lips were back on yours, a dreamy sigh leaving his mouth as your tongues met once again. Only a few seconds passed before he shifted his weight to lay you down, never breaking the kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, hovering over you. Taehyung started trailing a path of kisses down your neck, his large hands slithering beneath your oversized shirt and caressing the skin of your stomach.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your shirt.

You agreed and, within a heartbeat, that piece of clothing was already on the floor, and Taehyung was diving in to kiss the valley of your naked breasts. You moaned timidly when one of your nipples was wrapped by his lips, his tongue coming out to play with it. Taehyung’s other hand was occupied fondling your other breast, tugging and pressing down on it, and the sensations were taking over your mind.

“You have great tits,” Taehyung mumbled against your skin, switching to mouth your other nipple.

“I’m glad you like them,” you teased, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. You were letting out these cute little whimpers that were making him lose his mind. “Feels really good.”

“Yeah?” He asked, moving back to kiss his way up your neck. His tongue was hot and heavy as it danced on your skin, and you knew that those sucks he was giving you were surely gonna leave a few marks on your flesh. But you didn’t really care. “Gonna make you feel even better, baby.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at the pet name — it sounded heavenly when Taehyung used it with his deep, honeyed voice; his warm breath hitting your neck as he continued with his ministrations.

He kissed his way to your cheek, placing a small pec on your lips before saying, “Can you do something for me?”

You nodded. “What is it?”

Instead of responding right away, Taehyung’s gaze fell to your lips, and he was once again attacking them. That time, you weren’t able to hold back the whimper that you let out, your panties already glued against your core with how much he was turning you on.

One of his hands had trailed down your exposed abdomen, teasingly playing with the hem of your shorts. You held your breath when he tugged them down, bringing your underwear with it and throwing them somewhere in the living room. Taehyung grunted loudly when his fingers slipped past your folds, digging into your heat. His brain almost short-circuited because of how wet you were.

He broke the kiss and looked you deep in the eyes. “I want you to sit on my face, baby,” he said, and his request shot straight to your core. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Are you sure?” You asked. You had never done that before.

But Taehyung wasn’t sharing your reluctance. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse and eyes darkened. “Wanna taste you so bad. Sit on my face, please.”

And you didn’t need any more convincing than that. Taehyung helped you get up from the couch so he could reposition himself on it, laying flat on his back and watching as you settled yourself above him, thighs on either side of his head. The couch was the exact size for that, a little smaller and you’d have one leg dangling off the edge.

Taehyung took his hands to your thighs, running them up to your hips. His eyes were focused on your pussy, and you never felt so exposed when he started pressing you down lightly, guiding you closer to his mouth.

You held the back of the couch for support and did as he requested, lowering yourself until Taehyung had you flat on his tongue. Your breath trembled and caught in your throat when he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, humming around the taste before doing it again. Taehyung was an expert at erasing your worries because, with a few more licks, he had you fully losing yourself in his sinful ministrations.

It wasn’t long until you were whining out his name, your folds lazily dragging against his tongue as you started to grind on his face. “God, Taehyung!” You called out, hand coming down to tug at his hair. Taehyung grunted in satisfaction, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through your pussy. “That’s… that’s really nice. You’re really good at this.”

He moaned in response, closing his eyes at your words. Taehyung was eating you out like his mouth was made for it, like he was starving for your taste and you were all that he could think about. He licked you from your entrance to your clit, playing with your sensitive spots and enjoying the tremors of pleasure that ran through your thighs, his hands locked tight around your hips. You sobbed and cried over him, making special effort to keep your legs steady as you rocked yourself on his tongue.

It was only when he decided to suck on your clit that you realized how absurdly close you were. You clenched your teeth and whined out, yanking his hair harder. “Do that again, please,” you asked and Taehyung, like the good friend that he was, was quick to comply. Taehyung wrapped his mouth around your clit in a way that had you trembling over him, licking and sucking on your sensitive nub like his life depended on it. “Fuck, that’s so good, Tae. Feels so good…”

He moaned again, more desperate this time, and some part of your mind understood the pattern that he was presenting you: Taehyung really, really liked your compliments. And you had no problem giving away any more of them.

“You’re licking me so well, Tae, you’re gonna make me cum like this,” you told him, meaning every word you said. Taehyung was a Greek god beneath you, staring up at you with those dark, focused eyes as if he dared you to cum on his tongue. “God! You’re so good for me.”

And then your praises ran thin, because your mind was gravitating somewhere else — seeking for the high that was dangerously close. It was only when Taehyung started toying with your entrance, brushing two of his fingers on it, that you came undone, crying out his name like it was a personal prayer.

There was a smirk on your mouth as you came down, a flooding relief that overtook you. You never thought that you could come so hard in your life, especially when it depended on another person, and you were so, so happy to be wrong that you could cry.

With shaky legs, you removed yourself from Taehyung’s face, straddling his lap and watching as his lips glistened with your arousal. His pink tongue came out to lick them, a hum on his throat as he took in your fucked-out expression.

“You did so well, baby,” he said, placing one of his hands on your waist. “Come here.”

Obedient, you leaned in and sighed as his mouth met yours. This time, Taehyung didn’t wait to eagerly insert his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste yourself on him.

He pulled away leisurely, his voice hoarse. “Can you taste how sweet you are?” He asked. “I loved making you cum on my tongue, baby. You looked so pretty.”

Taehyung breathed out, planting kisses on your neck, one hand trailing down to squeeze your ass. You whined at his tight grip and pressed yourself down on him, feeling his hard cock poking out against the fabric of his sweats.

Taehyung groaned at the stimulation, pressing down on your asscheek again. You rolled your hips on top of him, wincing in sensitivity as his member brushed your clit. “Loved your pussy so much, baby,” he continued, sounding like he was lost in a daydream, “I can’t wait to be inside you. Bet you’d be so tight for my cock, hm?”

“Yeah,” you managed to speak. Even if you had just reached your orgasm, you were still aching to feel something inside you. You wanted Taehyung more than you could understand. “I want you to fuck me, Tae, please.”

He breathed out, his hands tightening around your flesh as you rolled your pussy against his cock once again. Taehyung looked like he was one heartbeat away from completely losing his self control, and hearing you beg for him to fuck you wasn’t doing him any favors. “Gonna need to lie down for me, baby,” he asked.

With a few more shifts on the couch, Taehyung had you beneath him once again, your legs open for him as he removed his shirt and pants. It wasn’t long before his cock sprung free from its confinement, standing erect. You licked your lips at the lustful sight, pussy clenching in anticipation as you took him in — Taehyung was big. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, that’s for sure; long and thick and already leaking for you.

You would’ve cried out in need if he didn’t interrupt you. “What are you looking at?” Taehyung asked, the ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips.

Your stare oscillated toward his own. “That’s why you have such a good track record, your cock is huge.” You bit your lip, thinking about how good he would feel inside you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you were pretty sure the last time you’ve seen his cock — back in the dark ages of your freshman year of college — it wasn’t as big as that. Or maybe you just didn’t have anything to compare it to.

“Hey, I just used my tongue on you, don’t ignore my efforts,” Taehyung teased, wrapping one of his hands around his member so he could pump himself a few times. The playful atmosphere swiftly shifted back, and, when he spoke up again, his voice was deeper. “You think you can take it?”

“Yeah, I can,” you said. You couldn’t be sure, but you were sure going to try.

Taehyung hummed, moving a bit closer so he could brush his tip against your pussy, coating it with your wetness. You closed your eyes in expectation, knowing that you’d love the stretch he would give you.

“You want it?” He asked, a touch of desperation covering his words. Taehyung was nearing his breaking point, and the fluttering of your pussy on his cock was making him go insane. “Want my cock inside your tight little cunt, baby?”

You nodded, frantic. The brushing of his thick tip on your hole was becoming too much, your walls clenching around nothing, seeking for something to fill you up. “Yes, fuck, I want it so bad.”

“Are you tight for me, baby?” He was trying to prolong that moment for as much as he could, keep the pretty face you made when you pleaded for him to fuck you burned in the back of his head. Making you cum once was a victory he would take forever, but making you cum around his cock might as well be his life’s biggest achievement. “Ready for me to fuck you?”

You cried out when he started pressing himself inside you, guiding his crown inside your pussy, then stopping. “Yes, Tae, just put it all in, please,” you whined, hands fumbling for support on his broad shoulders. Taehyung already had you clenching around nothing, you didn’t know what else he wanted from you. “Please, please, fuck me.”

Taehyung chuckled, looking down at where you two met. He was only human, and his self control was short lived. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Your back arched off the sofa as you felt the delicious drag of his large cock inside you, opening you up gradually, taking its time before filling you up to the brim. You gasped and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling, nails digging on the skin of his back as Taehyung groaned besides your ear.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He let out a shaky breath, and you swore you never heard his voice get so husky before. “I just slipped right in. You’re so fucking wet.”

Your mind was an apocalypse of confused thoughts and forgotten exclamations, eyes fluttering shut as you dove into the sensation of Taehyung inside you — his hips angling backwards, tilting up just enough so he could move himself away from you core, only to come slamming back inside. The stretch of his cock was amazing, it was making you drunk, and all that you could think about was how much pleasure it was giving you.

“So-So big—“ you muttered, half aware that the words actually left your lips.

“How do you like it, uh?” Taehyung asked, his voice dripping sin and hunger. You could tell that he, too, was getting carried away by the feeling, his hips rutting themselves against you at a lazy pace. “Gonna give it to you any way you want it, baby.”

You bit your lip, a small moan leaving your mouth when Taehyung leaned closer to you, distributing hot kisses on your neck. You swore you’d be happy if you died then. “I like it rough,” you answered.

He groaned, apparently satisfied with your response. “Whatever you want.”

Taehyung got to his knees on the couch, deciding to put one foot on the ground for support, his hands raising your hips to help him reach even deeper inside you. Faster than your brain could compute, the shallow, lazy pace he had sat was being replaced with a harsh, fast pumping that made you cry out his name, eyes closing in sheer bliss.

“Tae! Yes, yes, just like that,” you sobbed, running one hand through your hair. You felt like your body was floating, every cell of your body overheating with the amazing pleasure that Taehyung was giving you. You never had someone fucking you so hard, his cock pistoning inside you, your body bobbing up and down on the couch.

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the bouncing of your breasts as he continued to fuck you, a deep groan leaving his chest. “That’s it, take it,” he moaned out, quickening his pace even more. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth opening in a silent scream. “Gonna make you cum so hard around my cock, baby. Gonna fuck you until you cry. Want that?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you moaned. “Feels so good, Tae.”

“You like my cock, baby? Like it filling you up?” He asked and you could only nod pathetically, your entire body too fucked out to even respond. “F-fuck, your pussy is so good. Tell me that you love my cock.”

“I love your cock,” you whined, feeling like a complete hot mess under his thrusts. “I — fuck! — I love your cock so much, Tae, it’s so big.”

Your words motivated him to fuck you even harder, his member hitting even deeper inside you. Taehyung was getting lost in the stretch of your pussy around him, the glorious sounds you were making, the lust that coated your face every time you called out his name.

“Shit, I don’t know how anyone could look at you like this and not want to see that pretty face cum.” He was breathing out hard, grunting every time your cunt tightened around him. Taehyung wanted to see you like that forever, taking his cock like a good girl, creaming all over him and begging to do it again. You were wrapping around him so perfectly, taking all of him so well, that he didn’t think he’d manage to move on from that anytime soon. “So fucking hot.”

Taehyung chased after your high like a starving man looking for food, experimentally changing the angle and force of his thrusts to see what would get the best reaction out of you. At last, after a pathetically loud cry from your part after he raised your legs up, it seemed as if he had found it. “I bet you’d be so tight cumming around my cock, baby,” he was thinking out loud at that point, trying to make sense of the pretty sounds and expressions you were giving him so eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to see you cum — it was personal at that point. “I wanna feel you cum around me, baby. Wanna feel it so bad.”

“I’m c-close.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, eyes closing tightly. There was a light heat in your cheeks and sweat on your forehead that was making Taehyung wonder if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “You’re so good, T-Tae, you’re fucking me so well…”

Taehyung thought that he could cum right then and there, pushed over the edge with those sweet words alone. He loved being good to you, loved making you feel things that no one else managed to before. He was intoxicated by that sense of superiority, drowning in your praise. He wished that he could fuck you forever.

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he pushed you on, his words hanging somewhere between an order and a breathless plea. You were getting so tight around him that it was making him crazy, your wetness coating his cock and dripping down between your legs like his own personal brand of aphrodisiac. “You can do it, come on. I wanna see you cum so bad.”

You smiled at him, a cute, fucked-out smirk that made Taehyung go to heaven and back. “So good for me, Tae, you’re so big,” you said, your voice so needy and high-pitched. Your orgasm was looming over you, pressing down on your lower body and making you see stars. It was only a matter of time before Taehyung got you crying out his name, back arching off the couch and mouth falling open in delirium. “Tae! Fuck! Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—“

But your warning came a second too late, because you were already spasming around his length, body shaking as Taehyung thrusted hard inside you. Just as expected, you were absolutely fucking gorgeous when you came — all quivering lips and rolling eyes —, and Taehyung was beyond satisfied to know that he was the only one who saw that pretty face of yours.

“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Taehyung was starting to feel his own high approaching, called by the delicious tightening and releasing of your pussy around him. His thrusts were messy and harsh; his sweaty hair falling over his eyes like a cascade. “Can I cum inside you, baby? Can I fuck you full of my cum?”

You noticed the desperation in his tone and, with the throbbing of his member inside you, you knew that he wasn’t far. “Yes, please,” you said. “You were so good for me, Tae, you can cum wherever you want.”

And it was that final taste of praise that pushed Taehyung over his limit; waves upon waves of cum filling you up as he rode out his high. “God— fuck!” He cried out, drunk on the feeling of your walls milking the last drops of cum out of his cock. A few lazy pumps later, and he was collapsing on top of you with a mumbled, “F-Fuck.”

There was an instant of silence after his orgasm, the quietude only filled by Taehyung’s heavy breathing. You took one hand to his head, caressing the strands as a smile blossomed on your lips. “Well, I believe you now,” you said playfully. “I’m sure you made a bunch of girls orgasm.”

Taehyung chuckled, breathless. “Thank you, I try,” he said, looking up at you. The darkness in his gaze was gone, and it was just your best friend staring back at you. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you admitted. You never felt so good in your life. “You?”

“Fantastic, thanks for asking.” He leaned back so he could sit up, running one hand through his disheveled hair before saying, “I’m gonna grab you a towel, hang on.”

Taehyung left you for a couple minutes before coming back to clean you up, tenderly wiping away the mess you two had created. After he was done, he discarded the towel on the floor and crawled back to rest on your chest once again.

There was a comforting quietude that floated in the atmosphere, only filled by the muffled buzzing of his freezer and the vague sound of raindrops drumming on the window. You didn’t really know how to deal with that entire situation, didn’t know how things would stay between the two of you. But, at that point, you made the decision to keep those worries for the following morning and, instead, just enjoy his warmth radiating all around you.

The glorious silence, at last, was broken when Taehyung started mumbling against your breasts. “Hey, ___?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“How many dates have you been on?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Ever?”

Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I don’t know, like, this past year.”

“Uh… like… five or six? I think?” You answered, looking down to meet his gaze. You knew that wicked expression very well. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because we have a lot of shitty dates to make up for.”

#bts fic #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung fic #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #bts x you #bts x reader #reader insert #smut #au #taehyung au #bts au

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larrythefloridaman · 5 months ago

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Okay so just to start out, the thing about color symbolism is that its highly contextual- different media codes different things in different ways, so any blanket statement of 'this color means this, always' is very silly at best, actively detrimental to critical thinking via thought-terminating cliche at worst. This is part of the comedy of the original post this bit references, someone suggesting its actually very nice to have red decor in a childrens hospital because it symbolizes and inspires vitality and courage while either oblivious to or willfully ignorant to the fact the way it was incorporated makes it look like a trail of blood on the floor, a DECIDEDLY OMINOUS design choice for a children's hospital. Similarly but inversely, the cpuk orange rendition of this bit sees crimson making reference to a visit to a children's hospital, twitch chat immediately jumping to fearful confused alarm as to why, only for crimson to both explain a completely innocuous reason for his presence there and do so in a way that makes the reference clearer but obscures whether he actually visited a childrens hospital or simply made the reference for a bit's sake. classic crimson behavior he loves to be so unbearably vague that it scares people even if hes literally not doing anything and is mostly just trying to be funny

But, to continue my explanation, there ARE trends in what colors TEND toward meaning because of the connotations of those colors, usually arising from observing those colors' presence in nature and society and forming associations- like green commonly being associated with hope and healing and life because of the vibrant green of sprouting plants springing up in even the harshest of places, or blue with things like distance, infinity, calm and the cold due to the blues of open skies and open seas, or purple being associated with status and power and especially royalty and spiritual figures because historically purple dye was expensive and hard to produce and thus had a sense of special rarity.

The thing about red is its most common and immediate natural gut-feeling association for many people is blood. And you don't usually see blood when anything painlessly and straightforwardly good is happening. Thats, y'know, supposed to be hidden inside you when a person is healthy and safe. Seeing blood signifies injury which signifies violence which signifies urgent danger, its the color of warning signs and the color of violation. It is the color of both culprit and victim. Red marks that something was done wrong- from the splatter of a crime scene to the corrections on a child's failed homework. Its negative associations hang heavily.

"Red alert," "Red flag," "Red card," "Caught Red-handed," "Seeing red," "Red-faced with tears," "Scarlet sin," it is a color that often symbolizes many things that make people weak and imperfect. It symbolizes human flaw, human cruelty, human fallibility, raw and irrational emotion. To describe someone who has faltered, shown that they are not perfect and invulnerable, you say 'they can bleed.'

But the thing about that is that that's also something that binds us, something that attracts us, because its fundamentally relatable. We all bleed. The rawness of unfettered emotion is charismatic, it compells and draws attention, it's cathartic and freeing, even addicting, even if shame or fear drives us back to the safety of calm and reason, or the relief brings us back to our senses. For all the same reasons red symbolizes danger it also symbolizes courage in the act of facing that danger head on despite the risk and the act of suffering for the sake of what you believe in. What is a sin, a crime, weighed against an unjust authority?

Red is blood, and blood signifies injury, but it also signifies everything that makes the skin flush with it, the strength of human passion, life itself in all its intensities and emotional intimacies. The red in a blushing lover's skin, The reddish pink of scars from conflict long past, red poppies of remembrance and grief and even sleep.

Hell, it's not even REALLY blood usually, just... the illusion of it. The symbolic invocation of it to draw the eye, to create spectacle for an audience. If I spill red paint in the shape of a blood trail, I haven't killed anybody even if it looks that way. A treacherous image (in the rene magritte sense) to someone who doesnt know what theyre really looking at, and an unfortunate artistic mistake to someone who does.

Its all about context. Despite every association we have with it, despite everything painful it can be, there is nothing about red that is fundamentally and inherently bad no matter what when why how or who. In fact, it's often also the color of things that can be and are beautiful and good. Its about how you use it, how you incorporate it into what you use it for, what you encode it to mean, what you allow it to mean to you.

If youre wondering when im gonna talk about crimson, i literally already have been the whole post 👍

Thinking about the children's hospital color theory joke in cpuk orange. god. jokes that are so accidentally thematically relevant to crimson's character

#couldnt figure out how to fit this into the metaphor but 'red tape' also has some funny connotations.#crimson's notable skills: System Management and Task Delegation #'navigating red tape' = working your way through and around rules and bureaucracy #tl;dr red is blood and warning signs (negative)#but its also blood and warning signs (tragic) but its also blood and warning signs (catharsis)#but its also blood and warning signs (positive)#god i hope this makes sense gdhdshfgds

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elizabethvaughns · 3 years ago

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HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!

love when this world lets you, love while you can

[id: six gifs from if/then, all tinted with the colors of the pride flag. the first gif is from "ain't no man manhattan", where lucas is jumping up from his seat saying something while kate, anne, josh, and liz all stare at him. the gif is tinted red. the second gif is from "surprise", where david kisses lucas, who is holding a champagne flute in his hand. this gif is tinted orange. the third gif is from "love while you can", where kate and anne are holding each other's hands and singing to each other. this gif is tinted yellow. the fourth gif is from "ain't no man manhattan", where kate, anne, lucas, david, josh, and liz are all in the scene. lucas and david (who is in a white doctor's coat) walk together toward the right side of the stage (house right). anne, while turning around, holds out her hands to kate, who takes them. this gif is tinted a dark green. the fifth gif is from "no more wasted time". kate and anne are behind a railing. anne is saying something to kate. then both of them look down, and kate waves. this gif is tinted a dark blue. the final gif is from "best worst mistake". david is seated on a bench with one of his legs folded on the bench and the other resting on the ground. lucas, while saying something, also moves to rest one of his legs on the bench while staying standing. this gif is tinted purple. /end id]

#if/then #gif/then #i started making this in march and finished in may. not bc it was particularly difficult or anything. i just procrastinate a lot.#ifthen #if then #scheduled #queue don't need to love me #broadway musicals #musical theatre

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sides-of-demigods · 3 years ago

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Updated Character Profiles

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DOWNLOADING....

FILE DOWNLOAD COMPLETE...

ENTER PASSWORD: _________

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OPENING CAMPER FILES.....

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ROMAN AUGUSTUS PRINCE

Status: Alive

Role: Camper (Summers)

Godly Parent: Apollo

Age: 16

Appearance:

Hair: Short and curly; brown

Eyes: Green

Race: Mixed (Venezualan and Caucasian)

Height: 5’10

Other: A lot of freckles on his face and body. A large, jagged scar on his chest from a serket

Abilities:

Skill with ranged weapons

Tied with Virgil Cannon for best sword fighter at Camp; they can only train with each other

Can charm people with his singing voice

Can cast spells with songs, though it requires energy

Extensive mythological knowledge

Fluent in Ancient Greek, Latin, and Spanish and near fluent in French

Weapon(s):

Enchanted Imperial Gold sword with red hilt and red detailing on the blade(s)

Primarily double bladed, though can also transform into two separate swords, one single sword, or a spear

Origin: Unknown

Bow

Family:

Mortal Parent: Anne Prince

Sibling(s):

Remus Vadekar (Step-brother; raised as twins; estranged)

Chidi Huynh (Older godly half-brother; Lead healer)

Rest of Apollo Cabin

Backstory:

Born July 25, 2003

Knew he was a demigod even as a child, though was unaware of his parentage until being claimed

Mother married Simon Dux April 7, 2004

Arrived at Camp in 2009 (Age 6)

Was claimed by Apollo upon arrival

Rejected Remus when he was claimed by Eris and the two have had a strained, near hostile relationship since

Previously was prejudiced by people’s godly parents. Has since improved after a penultimate event in the woods with Virgil Cannon (See: The Forest Incident)

Other:

Currently dating Virgil Cannon

VIRGIL JASON CANNON

Status: Alive

Role: Camper (Summers, though is known to occasionally come to camp for a few weeks throughout the year)

Godly Parent: Phobos

Age: 16

Appearance:

Hair: Short and curly though he frequently straightens it; brown with dyed purple bangs

Eyes: Brown

Race: Mixed (Korean and Caucasian)

Height: 6’3

Other:

Small scars on face from various training incidents and fights

Abilities:

Can cause fear

Can force people to see their worst fear

Can sense fear

Can sense what people are afraid of

Tied with Roman Prince for best sword fighter at Camp; they can only train with each other

Fluent in Ancient Greek

Weapon(s):

Enchanted Stygian Iron Sword: θύελλα (Thýella) aka Tempest

Always exactly as sharp as he needs it to be in any situation

Origin: Gift from Phobos

Enchanted Stygian Iron Sword

Indestructible

Origin: Gift from Phobos

Family:

Mortal Parent: Josie Cannon

Sibling(s):

Heather Marie Lambert (Older godly half-sister)

Skyler Lee Worthington (Younger godly half-sibling)

Backstory:

Born June 28, 2003

Discovered he was a demigod when retrieved by a Satyr (Joan) on his 13th birthday (2016)

Arrived at Camp a week later

Was claimed one month after his arrival by Phobos arriving in person

Was involved in exterminating a colony of serkets from the woods (See: The Forest Incident)

Other:

Currently dating Roman Prince

Somehow manages to always be wearing a black Camp Half-Blood shirt rather than an orange one

LOGAN TODD BRADFORD-HAYES

Status: Alive

Role: Camp Counselor (Year-round)

Godly Parent: Athena

Age: 17

Appearance:

Hair: Afro textured, normally in locs, box braids, or cornrows; black

Eyes: Brown

Race: African-American

Height: 6’0

Other:

Small scar on cheek after an encounter with an Orthus during Capture the Flag

Abilities:

Even smarter than most of the Athena cabin

Encyclopedic mythological knowledge

Best strategist at Camp

Fighting with daggers and knives

Fluent in Ancient Greek and Latin

Weapon(s):

Twin Celestial bronze daggers with long, thin blades

Family:

Mortal Parent: Spencer Bradford

Sibling(s):

Athena Cabin (Godly half-siblings)

Backstory:

Born December 27, 2002

Is part of a long line of Athena’s legacies

Arrived at Camp Half-Blood in 2014 (Age 12)

Was claimed by Athena upon arrival

Once during a game of Capture the Flag Logan was attacked by an Orthus and saved by Patton Hailey

After the extermination of the serkets in the woods was unanimously elected the new counselor of Cabin 7

Other:

Currently dating Patton Hailey

Southern accent he suppresses

PATTON NOAH HAILEY

Status: Alive

Role: Camper (Year-round) Healer

Godly Parent: Hebe

Age: 16

Appearance:

Hair: Medium and wavy; strawberry blonde

Eyes: Gray

Race: Caucasian

Height: 5’8

Abilities:

Can manipulate age and suck the youth from anything living with one touch

Wears gloves to prevent doing so accidentally

Gifted Healer

Fluent in Ancient Greek

Weapon(s):

Slingshot with celestial bronze spheres

Has a magic pouch for the spheres that can hold more than it appears

Origin: Hephaestus Cabin

Family:

Mortal Parent: Gene Hailey

Sibling(s):

Dennis Hailey (Younger mortal half-sibling; estranged)

Hebe Cabin (Godly half-siblings)

Backstory:

Born February 14 2003

In 2013 Patton and Janus escaped their neglectful and abusive father

They were found by satyrs and escorted to camp, arriving three weeks later

Was claimed two months after his arrival and neglected his brother by accident in his enthusiasm to meet his other siblings

When Janus was claimed he cut off his relationship with Patton completely

Other:

Currently dating Logan Bradford

JANUS DENNIS HAILEY

Status: Alive

Role: Camp Counselor (Year-round)

Godly Parent: Apate

Age: 14

Appearance:

Hair: Short; black

Eyes: Gray

Race: Caucasian

Height: 5’5

Other:

Has a large scar across his face from a fight with the nemean lion before being found by satyr

Abilities:

Can lie flawlessly

Can blend into crowds

Can sense weakness, motivation, and lies

Mimicry:

Can transform his appearance into someone else’s, though can get small details wrong

Can mimic speech patterns, voice, quirks, and mannerisms

Cannot replicate memories

Gifted fighter with knives and throwing knives

Weapon(s):

Celestial bronze rapier with a black and gold handle

Throwing knives

Family:

Mortal Parent: Gene Hailey

Sibling(s):

Patton Hailey (Older mortal half-brother; estranged)

Lillian Reyes (Younger godly half-sibling)

Backstory:

Born November 3, 2005

In 2013 Patton and Janus escaped their neglectful and abusive father

They were found by satyrs and escorted to camp, arriving three weeks later

Was claimed four months later

Afterward he cut off his relationship with Patton completely and began going by his middle name, Dennis

Other:

Previously dated Remus Vadekar

REMUS ANANYA VADEKAR

Status: Alive

Role: Camp Counselor (Summers)

Godly Parent: Eris

Age: 16

Appearance:

Hair: Straight and long; Brown (dyed dark red with lime green streaks)

Eyes: Gray

Race: Mixed (Half-Hindi Half-Caucasian)

Height: 5’10

Other:

Various small scars from pranks gone wrongs, usually involving monsters

Array of freckles on face

Abilities:

Stronger in times of chaos

Can manifest an enchanted golden apple people fight over

Can cause fights between weak-willed people

Strife Storm

Causes random objects within its radius to go flying, break, change, and/or warp

Weapon(s):

Celestial bronze mace

Painted black and green by Remus

Family:

Mortal Parent: Daas Vadekar

Sibling(s):

Roman Prince (Step-brother; raised as twins; estranged)

Backstory:

Born July 25, 2003

Knew he was a demigod even as a child, though was unaware of his parentage until being claimed

Father Anne Prince married April 7, 2004

Arrived at Camp in 2009 (Age 6)

Claimed by Eris a few weeks after arrival

Upon arrival began to change, becoming chaotic, cruel, and mean

Was rejected by Roman when he was claimed

Unleashed Serkets into the woods

Released an Orthux that attacked Logan Bradford

Upon research from Remy Dormir it was revealed there was a curse on the children of Eris that would drive them slowly to insanity, most of them

Received a prophecy that seemingly cause him to finally snap

Brainwashed boyfriend Janus Hailey and attempted to murder Patton Hailey before fleeing into the woods and creating the rift

Other:

Previously dated Janus Hailey

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etherealluminescence · 4 years ago

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I asked my friend for ALL first obey me impressions, and was not disappointed. some screenshots below cause they’re funny to me.

Filler image

Lucifer

“Edgy supervillain vibes, lads”

“Where does he get those wings?”

“Like, what wing store?”

Safe to say they think Lucifer looks like a super villain sadist with weird a ass style. Can’t say they’re off the mark.

Certainly is a sadistic bastard with those vibes, but not completely on point.

Mammon

“Looks like a rockstar”

“I like his glasses” I too, like them my nonbinary pal.

“He looks like an electric type if he were a Pokemon.”

I mean yeah, they kinda have a point.

“It’s hard to decide because these boys are just lads” wow okay nice first impressions huh.

Leviathan

“Ok I redact my statement on hard to hate” yeah I redact my statement of being your best friend of 5+ years.

“First image looks like a war general, so that’s a red flag” in reference to the RAD uniform.

“Seems like the type to regularly visit the incel vibes of Reddit.” I showed them one of all of the characters casual, uniform, ur art, and demon form.

“I just get these vibes.” Yeah okay I get the vibe you are NOT a snek fan frfr bro.

Satan

“Catboy.”

“Next.”

I literally just showed them the uniform, casual, demon form, and card of Satan kitty and they were like no.

Not even insulting fashion just the fact he’s a catboy.

Asmodeus

“No thoughts head empty.” Yeah be amazed by his sexiness.

“His hair is cool.” 🥺🥺😎 ofc he’s Asmo.

“What are those wings I don’t think you can fly with those, stupid.” Oh...

“I just noticed the pants... too many belts.” Well okay then. 😭

Note to self they think Asmo is not beautiful except his hair.

Beelzebub

“Needs to lean in more with insect theme.” Proceeds to show me an orange glob from hollow knight?

“I like bugs.”

“He’s the 6’4 friend who would accept you being gay. He’s always hungry. I love him so much 🥺” - me cause I said they’re based off sins.

“It is no sin to savour a good meal my friend.” - them / probably beel’s senior quote

Belphegor

“Again with belts but I should expect this” WHAT DO THEY HAVE AGAINST FUNKY BELTS HUH.

“Tail is fluffy and cool but I hate his outfit the most.” Wow Satan got beat in worst outfit department.

“My eyes keep focusing on the cyan but the mustard yellow though 😔” fair enough.

“I know there’s a cow theme but those piebald doesn’t exactly help. The other outfits are fine.” When did you become a fashion genius bro.

I JUST LOVE THE SCREENSHOT SO MUCH WHAHA BEST RESPONSE THANKS

Diavolo

“Wear a shirt”

“It’s cold”

“Wait”

“Never mind it’s hell.” I didn’t actually say it was hot lmfaoo I’m mean.

“This man can create a fucking sun.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“He doesn’t like pickles.”

“Me too. Pinckle.”

Barbatos

Literally just this screenshot. Thanks for this, lad. The above screenshot not the bottom one the bottom one is Solomon.

Solomon

“Punk.”

“Just tell him his cooking is inedible.”

“Perfect candidate for fingers in his ass Sunday.”

Simeon

Sends me a fucking image of a LONG fishing hat. Cause fishing Simeon.

“I like his getup funky man.”

“Has the customer service smile and I’m not sure it’s genuine or not.”

“No thoughts, head empty the person.”

Luke

“Looks like this child can cook!” Yes my baby can.

“Vaguely reminds me of a small Victorian child.” Okay my son could be one...

“Just wants lunchables.” 😭😭

“I want lunchables too.” Yeah I’d give him my lunachables if he asked.

“I would eat lunchables with him.” :)) us and the baby.

“Sheeple”

“I do not know what to think of this.”

“What.”

“Ok.”

“I- ok.”

In reaponse to me just memeing small sheep MC defeating the boys who are so strong.

I kept my promise thanks for your internet points 😎😎

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me hc #obey me headcanon #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me Satan #obey me Asmo #obey me Beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me Barbatos #obey me Solomon #obey me Simeon #obey me Luke #obey me MC

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fr33ze-y0ur-br4in · 2 years ago

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In elementary through intermediate school (and some of middle) I would get in trouble if I didn’t stand, stare at the flag, put my right hand over my heart, and basically shout the pledge. I would have to move my clip* down one or two spaces out of three. Sometimes my parents would get a note home. Keep in mind, this was no more than ten years ago and no less than six years. Even still, as an almost junior in high school with a week left of my sophomore year, I’ve had subs that would yell at the class to stand for the pledge and proceed to spend twenty minutes lecturing us on it after the announcements.

*we had a behavioral punishment/reward system in my schools where there were seven colors on a giant laminated strip of paper. From top (best) to bottom (worst), my class’s colors were pink, purple, blue, green, yellow, orange, red. If you managed to get to the rare pink and purple, you’d get a not sent home telling your parents about the good things you did and a treat. If you got to yellow, you missed recess. Orange, you missed recess and had silent lunch and a note home to parents telling about the bad things you did. Red, you got written up to the principal and the previously mentioned punishments. If you were just a meh kid, you stayed on green, which is what you restart at at the beginning of every day. Looking back on it, the kids who misbehaved the most were kids who had adhd or parental issues at home or some other unnoticed issues that the parents and teachers didn’t care enough to address. The whole thing was stupid.

Growing up in the States, pledging allegiance to the flag and country every morning in school was *weird* looking back.

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gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

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Finding A Light

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ron was left broken in the aftermath of the wizarding war. In an attempt to build a better life, he feels he may have unknowingly met someone who could put those pieces back together.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, fluff

A/N: Remus is very much alive in this series! This will be more than one part, I hope you enjoy!

Ron Weasley was a man of few words when presented the daunting task of expressing his emotions, preferring to stuff them down and deal with the consequences later. He never outright says what he’s feeling unless it’s pried from him, and in those times it’s usually expressed through anger. He isn’t great with his words either, so it didn’t come as a surprise to Harry and Hermione to see him so closed off after the war had concluded its disastrous rampage.

It was a battle that anyone and everyone involved was more than likely to never forget, the losses and hardships engraved in their minds as a permanent reminder should their memory allow it as they age. Some had come out on the other side more fortunate than others. Some had handled it far better than others. Ron was not one of those people.

His long awaited ambitions on becoming an Auror were rapidly diminished and pushed to the very back of his mind for a good while. He had wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic beyond that very day, thought that maybe if he hadn’t used it, it wouldn’t remind him of his tragedies. That maybe that part of his life would be forgotten in time if he tried hard enough. So, his wand, his robes, his Hogwarts letters and what was left of his sentimental wizarding memorabilia were hastily shoved into a cardboard box, taped shut and stuffed away to collect dust. Out of sight out of mind was his reasoning, though it didn’t quite work out that way.

The loss of his childhood home paired with the devastating loss of one of his older brothers had been a weight too heavy to bear, pressing down on his chest with each day that passed. He nearly lost two of his closest friends amidst the chaos the Dark Lord left in his wake. Such a lifetime of pain and loss was something he never anticipated to experience all by the young age of eighteen, and it left him feeling like a mere shell of the person he once used to be. As if the years of extraordinary magical endeavors prior to that day were completely erased and replaced with utter heartache.

It took him four years to bring himself out of the pit he found himself stuck in and find some semblance of strength, if only for his mother, and he wanted to build a better life for himself. One without so much sorrow written into his story. He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing so, knowing a return to a normal life simply wouldn’t be feasible. Not that his life had ever been considered normal per say.

The emotional scars were something that would never go away, he understood that, but he didn’t think he could go another day having the same mundane routine night and day. He felt ready for more.

Now, at the age of twenty-two coming up on twenty-three, he found himself returning to Hogwarts with hopes to become a professor. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when he arrived, sick to his stomach with nerves as he stopped and stood in the middle of the newly constructed stone bridge. His letter crinkled under the pressure of his tightly clenched hand, luggage in the other, eager students curving their stride to avoid running into him. The castle was more grand than he’d remembered it to be, perhaps they’d made it bigger to house more young witches and wizards, perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, against his instincts, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue forward before he convinced himself to turn around and apparate home.

He quickly found that things had been kept fairly the same as he roamed the grand halls in curiosity, as similar to the school he’d grown up in as it could be. The wondrous ceiling of enchanted candles in the Great Hall was a detail that briefly gave him watery eyes; the varying hues of reds, oranges and yellows coloring the Gryffindor common room, down to the house flags pridefully ornamenting the new quidditch pitch. He found himself turning to express his awe to Harry or Hermione on more than one occasion, but was only met with the unfamiliar faces of new students. His shoulders would slump as he exhaled a deep sigh.

It had taken him nearly two months to fully adjust to his newfound routine, to come to terms with the memories that flashed in his mind of their own volition. Whether they be good or bad, they had a habit of making themselves known at the worst of times. Over the course of that time period crumpled pieces of parchment had accumulated around the desk in his room, unsent letters to his mother of his wishes to return home. All of which were written hastily in either frustration or tears, or a mixture of the two. And of the ones he had sent, they were promptly returned with enchanted letters vocally telling him with the utmost of love and sternness that he will be staying, he needs this. Those letters kept him going on those days.

Amongst those days and nights it was strange not having his two best friends there, loneliness still having its hold on him.

Remus Lupin had made his return all the more welcome though, himself and McGonagall being two of the only familiar faces that he’d truly connected with. He felt it was an honor to be taken under his wing and trained, he always had been Ron’s favorite instructor of Defense Against The Dark Arts. He’d even go so far as to say he’s the best if he was being honest.

Regardless, despite his own personal conflicts, he was beginning to feel more comfortable residing there than he had ever thought he would. It was as if the nagging rain cloud dumping over his head was starting to dissipate for the time being.

“You did very good today, Ron,” Lupin says once his final class of the day has left, “the teaching of boggarts is never easy I’ll say, and if I recall correctly it wasn’t your favorite lesson.”

Ron chuckles at the thought, pushing his chair in when he stood. “Not particularly. I still have a nightmare or two about that bloody spider.”

Lupin laughs, nodding at the pleasant memory. Things fall quiet for a few moments as Ron moves to sling his bag over his shoulder. “Off you go, Mr. Weasley, enjoy your weekend,” he urges, grabbing Ron’s attention again before he gets too far. “Here’s your weekly report. You’re becoming a fine up and coming professor I’d say. I have no doubt that I will be leaving my classroom in the best possible care.”

Ron nods with a soft laugh, cheeks flushing a pale crimson at the reassurance as he takes the parchment from him, tucking it into his bag to be read later. “Thank you, Professor Lupin, really. It means a lot to hear.”

He smiles appreciatively before making his way across the long classroom, stopping in his tracks. He takes a breath to gather his thoughts before spinning on his heel to face him again, returning to the desk he sat at. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

He offers Ron a smile upon seeing the clear hesitancy written all over his face. Ron gulps, fumbling with the strap of his bag that rested on his shoulder. He could practically see the gears turning in the ginger boy’s head if such a thing existed. “Was it…was it hard coming back here? After the war, I mean.”

Lupin huffs out a soft laugh at the sudden ask of such a deep question, though he can’t say he was surprised. “I was waiting for this question to arise,” he says, lifting a hand to stop Ron from apologizing. “To give a short answer, yes. It took great thought. To give a long answer, one you may not like but I’m sure you already know, there will always be bad days after experiencing such trauma. It is not easy being born into a life where magic is real and not just a trick of the eye. While it can be wonderful it also brings with it a great deal of damage.”

Ron nods as he listens to his words, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Despite all of it, Hogwarts is a place that can be good just as much as it can be bad. You just have to take it in your stride. You’re stronger than you think, Ron. If you really want to be here, I believe it is worth it to try.”

Ron exhales deeply, taking a moment to process his insightful words, a certain wisdom he appreciated. It left him feeling considerably lighter than he had before, like he was a bit more hopeful of a better experience here. “Thank you.”

That’s all he can manage to say.

The blue eyed man in front of him nods. “Go on now, you’ve had a long day, Weasley.”

—

Ron found himself to be rather excited for this weekend. It would be his first time making a trip to Hogsmeade in nearly five years, though he’d been putting it off because the experience wasn’t quite the same when doing it alone. Third years buzzed around him with the excitement of their newfound privileges and independence, bouncing from shop to shop to fully take in all that it had to offer.

He, however, walked at a leisurely pace amongst the students bustling around him, taking a moment to fully appreciate everything he hadn’t seen for so long. Catching details that otherwise went unnoticed like the chipping pink paint on the curved windowsills of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and the happy young couples residing inside. The vibrant green moss that formed inbetween the crumbling cracks of the old cobblestone walkways. However, the sight of Zonko’s Joke Shop made his heart lurch in his chest the moment he saw it.

He averted his gaze immediately, swallowing thickly as he tugged at his shirt collar that suddenly felt a little too constricting. It had been Fred and George’s favorite shop to frequent, always buying new things to add to their inventory of pranks. But now that one half of the pair was missing it wasn’t such a fond memory anymore, moreso a taunting one.

The sound of a couple students joyously greeting with a chorus of ‘Hi Mr. Weasley!’ pulled him from his thoughts and he was quick to smile, giving them a half wave as they had already begun to walk away. He let his hand fall back to his side, huffing out a sigh as he continued to walk along the path towards the one place he looked forward to the most, Honeydukes.

The little bell overhead alerted his entrance as he opened the door, the air noticeably sweeter than outside. He found himself smiling as his gaze bounced around the near unchanged shop, any candy you could possibly think of lining almost every brightly painted wall. Though not every single one is a desireable find, he learned that one the hard way. He almost didn’t know where to begin, much like how he felt the first time he ever entered the place, and every time after that for that matter. So he perused the shop, something he’s never done by himself.

His eyes landed on familiar chocolates, and he was quick to grab a box for Hermione because he knows they’re her favorite. Despite such knowledge she still adamantly denies having a sweet tooth to this day. To go along with that, he snags one of the last chocolate frogs for Harry.

It was a fond memory when he thought of it, a tradition they’d had as young students. He’s still got the cards he’d collected from each frog, they were tucked away in that box filled with other things. Maybe when he returned home he’d have the courage to reopen it.

He continues to look around for a bit more, finding himself wishing he had the same sense of enjoyment and innocence as some of the younger students held. For they were fortunate enough to narrowly miss being involved with such negative events. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t looming over his head anymore, to let himself enjoy this very moment. So, he tried his best to clear his mind and bring himself back to his current situation in the middle of an aisle filled with hard candies.

When he had turned the corner of said aisle he collided with something, someone to be more specific, the box clutched in his hands opening on impact and sending the assortment of sweets clattering to the ground with the addition of others. The chocolate frog had fell from its decorative box and hopped out of sight before he could process it.

“I’m so sorry!” A soft voice sounds in front of him, a warm hand enveloping his wrist.

“It’s okay…” Ron trails off when he matches the voice to its owner, blinking slowly as his mouth hangs slightly agape. He found himself staring at the girl, he was quite sure he’d never seen someone so alluring, so captivating. He didn’t know if he could manage to stop gawking. “I-it’s okay.”

His cheeks redden when he realized he’s repeated himself, the fiery heat of embarrassment burning from the very tips of his ears down to his neck, leaving his pale skin flushed. You too came to the realization that you were still gripping his arm, quickly dropping it as you laughed softly to stave off any awkward silence. He averts his eyes momentarily, needing a moment to regain his composure and not make a complete fool of himself in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though he’s quite sure he already has.

“I told Mr. Flume it shouldn’t be quite so cramped in here, but he never seems to listen,” you laugh, looking at the smattering of sweets scattered around the two of them. Ron was focused less on the mishap and more on the way you smiled brightly at him, knowing his cheeks were undoubtedly the same shade as his hair. “Give me just one moment, please!”

He nods just a little too late as you rush off around another corner and out of sight, leaving him to stand there awkwardly as students in the vicinity stared at the mess sprawled at his feet. Shortly, you indeed did come back, a new box of chocolates and what was now the last chocolate frog in your hands. You thrusted them in his direction with a warm smile, one that made his heart flip in his chest. “Take these, it’s on the house.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that,” Ron rushes.

“Please, it was my mistake. I insist.”

He laughs softly, nodding after a moment. “At least let me help you clean up?”

You nod up at him with a laugh of your own, “deal.”

He tries not to think about the way your fingers brush over his as they pick up chocolates from the checkered floor, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. And he tried not to think about the way you’d had his stomach twisting in knots as if he was a thirteen year old again experiencing his first crush.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He scrambled to think of a response, seemingly forgetting his own name momentarily. It hadn’t gotten any better when you looked up at him politely as if waiting for a response. “I’m Ron…Ron Weasley.”

He could’ve kicked himself for being so awkward, knowing him stumbling over his words couldn’t possibly give off any sort of appeal. He brushed his hands off with a sigh as he stood to his feet. Though you didn’t seem to mind his nerves as you brushed your hands off on your jeans.

“Nice to meet you, Ron. I only wished it were on better circumstances.” The pale blush on your face deepened a shade.

“That’s quite alright,” he says with an airy laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It was nice meeting you too.”

That same silence took up the absence in conversation again as Ron tried desperately to think of something to say, not quite ready for the interaction to be over. You beat him to it.

“I hope to see you around here again, maybe without the mess,” you say with a soft smile, “and don’t forget your chocolates.”

He was confused for a moment, too caught up in the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him, or the way your hair fell around your face before following where you’d been pointing. “Oh! Y-yeah…thank you,” He grabbed his sweets in his shaky hands, feeling rather bold suddenly, “I’ll see you around then, Y/n.”

He was sure your words were only friendly, something you probably said often as a kind gesture. Probably not because you actually wanted to see him again. But he let himself think otherwise if only for a moment.

You simply nod, your grin widening a fraction, “bye Ron.”

—

Ron’s lifted spirits did not go unnoticed, not by Mrs. McGonagall who made it a point to bring it up at dinner later that evening. He could tell she picked up on it, could tell by the very way she’d glanced at him frequently. Though he wasn’t sure he was hiding it very well. He pretended not to notice, focusing his gaze on the rows of tables occupied by dozens upon dozens of students seated at them, the hardwood adorned with some of the best food he’s ever eaten. Second only to his mother.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so cheery, Mr. Weasley?” She finally asks, and he sighs at the question.

“Not particularly,” he responds using her wording, glancing at her as a smile pulls at the left corner of his mouth. He watches as she raises a skeptical brow; he knows what’s coming.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a number of years, Ronald. I know when you’re lying,” she says with a soft laugh, though she doesn’t pry.

Ron chuckles down at his plate as he shakes his head, pushing his food around as he thought about her. The way she smiled at him, so brightly the corners of her eyes crinkled. It still felt as though those butterflies were still fluttering around in his stomach. He quickly found himself wanting to hear your voice again, or hear your laughter—

“I’ve met a wonderful person today, that’s all,” he blurts, looking to his side.

She gave him a fond yet knowing smile, nodding her head. “I know the look of young love when I see it.”

“I’m not in love, Mrs. McGonagall,” he urges almost immediately, cheeks reddening once more at her preposterous conclusion, “I’ve only just met her today.”

“If you insist, my dear.”

“I do insist.” He tries to be sure of himself despite his inability to get you off his mind, but he hides his smile behind his goblet as he takes a sip.

Later that night he went to bed with something other than sorrow clouding his thoughts, instead feeling rather optimistic about the week ahead. Or maybe it was the plans he’d had at the end of it that had him so eager, time feeling agonizingly slow. It was definitely that. He couldn’t wait to see you next Saturday.

—

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