#unless he was made more of a threat or something

[marrow-bone]

Every now and again I get a random re-emergence of BLoSC fixation (I blame my core childhood self: Robot hyperfixation)

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

2 & 3 from section 1 for peri and 7 from whichever section has a more interesting #7 for diodore -moss

oooh these are fun ones!

2. Describe their tent set-up (outside and inside) (Peri)

I think Peri's tent is constructed similarly to Gale and Astarion's (boxy, fabric walls, little covered area outside). Deep blue fabric w/ golden astronomical embroidery, mostly the sort of thing you see on star maps. Little golden tassles around the edges of the tarp (?) and the doorframe. He'd have a small, circular, dark wood side table short enough that you can use it sitting on the ground, and a dark blue pillow next to it; there would be some parchment and a bronze miniature astrolabe on the table. The inside would be just. full to the brim with the gaudiest night-sky-themed pillows you've ever seen. No bedroll, no palette, just a nest that would put those cube pits in trampoline parks to shame. There would be two bird perches for his familiar Medani: one taller one next to his tent and one shorter one under the overhang. The shorter one would have a crow-sized bow-tie hanging from it. Rugs on rugs on the outside area ofc. 3. What would their character quest be titled? Why? (Peri)

This is a hard one! His tav ending involves taking over the Waterdeep arm of the Harpers, so I think his arc would have something to do with that. He'd be pretty bitter about being dropped into another near-apocalyptic mess when dealing with the last one a few years prior was supposed to be a one-time thing. Something-something ptsd in a world that doesn't have the words for that yet, something-something 'once a hero always a hero', something-something the weight of responsibility...he's a planeswalker so I think part of it would be whether he decides to stay on Toril long-term and directly help rebuild the Waterdeep Harpers or if he continues to run travel around afterwards, so maybe The Far Traveller/The Far Walker?

Harpson/Fae-son are also potential options. "Fae-son" nods to him being a changeling without it being super obvious (like Astarion's "The Pale Elf"). It would also mimic his backstory reveals from RoT ("oh he's not 'from here' so, like, the Feywild" -> "OH he's not from here"). 7. Describe their arc. How would a player help resolve it? What choices can be made? Can your Tav be turned down a dark path, or pulled to a lighter one? (Diodore)

Buckle up because we're in for a long one here. I've thought about Dora's story arc a lot because she's the first of my tavs that I truly made for the game while having full control over her backstory, etc. (versus Corentin, who had their arc baked into the story as a durge). Dora's a paladin of Corellon (oath of ancients) and her story arc as a companion would have to do with whether or not she should accept capital-r-Redemption, the process by which a drow can be truly "freed" from Lolth and rejoin the ranks of the rest of elven society. It involves all of the Redeemed drow's memories being erased and them being reincarnated as a surface elf. The implication seems to be that without that, regardless of a drow's actions, they'd be thrown back to Lolth when they die? Or at least that their eternal fate is unknown (which is the way I prefer to think of it for. personal reasons). Under normal circumstances, Dora would be a long way from Redemption being presented to her at all (she's not even 200 yet and has only been on the surface for a couple decades), but like with the other gods' Chosen among the companions, near-apocalyptic circumstances tend to speed up those sorts of things.

Of course, you'd have the themes of faith & relationship with deity when they're all unequivocally real and are also mostly all assholes; maintaining or breaking generational cycles; facing the unknown; morality when none of your choices are "good" (and how that interacts with morality vs self preservation); power vs freedom; identity outside of the people who made you; etc. The choice would first be presented to her sometime in late Act I/early Act II, likely the first long rest after the group resurfaces from the Underdark and you've probably gotten some of her backstory already. I have no idea how Larian would have characterized Corellon, but he's considered one of the more benevolent/open-minded deities iirc, which could be interesting to see contrasted with Mystra, Vlaa'kith, and Shar. How much that open-mindedness would extend to a drow, even one who has been a faithful follower even before she escaped to the Surface (and who inherited that faith from her father), is unclear. At the beginning of the game she would be leaning towards accepting Redemption, despite her own misgivings about whether or not she would still be her in that case.

Her final decision (at the ending pier scene) would depend on the relationship she has with the PC and the other companions. Her best ending, imo, would be her not accepting Redemption but continuing to be a force for good. If she has a good relationship with the PC, she would have something to lose. I think seeing the House of Mourning would affect her too. After all, the thing Corellon is offering to her as a way to find peace is the same thing the Sharrans are using as a way to manipulate and control others.

She's viscerally aware of how she was socialized and very actively chooses "good", so pushing her towards a darker path would be incredibly difficult but not impossible. If you side with the goblins she'll leave immediately, and turn on you if she's in your party when you attack the grove. But if you decide to try and control the cult in Act II, depending on your over-all actions before then and how you've interacted with her, you could disillusion her to the point of convincing her to break her oath. That path would entail convincing her that controlling the cult is actually the best idea. I'm sure there would be other times that her oath could break that wouldn't necessarily lock her into an "evil" path, especially with how Oathbreakers are handled in the game. Knocking out Minthara instead of killing her outright and letting Auntie Ethel go in Act I instead of killing her are two things that come to mind.

If she doesn't choose Redemption she would be at the epilogue party, of course. I'm a bit undecided on what would happen if she does choose Redemption. She may not be there at all, w/ Jaheira, Halsin, Minthara, and/or Astarion mentioning running into her in her new, reincarnated state. Or she would be there, confused, and mention how the PC seems familiar in a way she can't quite place. In that case, she would ask them how they know each other and mention something about feeling a twinge of grief looking at everyone, but that she doesn't know why she feels that way. It would be up to the PC how much they tell her (if they tell her anything at all).

[aealzx]

_______________________

Prologue Next

_______________________

“We’ve secured the suspected meta.”

“Copy that. Red Hood, do you have eyes on the last of them?”

“Not yet, but I’m pretty sure she’s in this apartment.”

Several months ago a group of unpredictable rogues had popped up in Gotham. Nothing unusual for the city, other than they appeared to be a group of teenagers who were both criminals and heroes. Stolen goods of various types ranging from common camping supplies, food, and clothing, to an odd assortment of medical supplies and technology. Assaulted police, other heroes and vigilantes given the slip. And yet there were also many criminals dealt with that hero teams couldn’t account for who was responsible. The main lead they had gotten was the suspected meta human. A girl with white hair that could fly, phase through walls, and various other super human feats. She had been the first lead they could latch onto, and from there they had built profiles on the other three. The oldest girl appeared to be in her late teens, another girl just a few years younger, a boy the same age as the second girl, and then the metahuman, younger than all of them. They had been more of a curiosity than a serious threat. Until they had stolen something from the wrong people and painted a target on their heads. Now they were in a cross between a rescue and capture mission as the team only known as The Phantoms were being raided by pissed off crooks.

The three youngest had already been caught by the rest of the team sent by Batman, it was only the eldest girl that remained. And unless Tim could pull off a miracle Jason only had ten minutes to find her before the planted bomb destroyed the building they’d been hiding in.

With Barbara’s help he and a few of the others had searched the entire apartment building, checking each room for the remaining Phantom and placing eyes where they’d been to make sure she didn’t give them the slip and run to somewhere they’d already been. Jason had just slammed through the front door of one more apartment when he’d answered Barbara’s question, a scattering of food wrappers in a trash pile, a small cook top, sleeping areas, and other items for basic needs betraying recent habitation. It was a good hint that this was where the Phantoms had stationed, especially with the scrabbled together computer workstation setup off to one side.

There were only three other doors in the apartment, and Jason moved to the first one quickly. A closet near the front door. Empty. A bathroom across from the front room. Also empty. Which meant the last room, the bedroom, had to be where she was, if she was there.

Jason flung the door open and promptly caught the crowbar that was swung at his face, accompanied by a near frantic screech from the girl he’d been looking for

“Got her,” Jason announced to the comms, deftly yanking the crowbar out of the girl’s hands and tossing it to the side. “Begin evacuation, I’ll be out in - ….. Shit.”

As Jason spoke to Barbara and the rest of the team he decidedly ignored the girl’s demands for him to get out, having to block a fist thrown his way. He’d noticed she was obviously distressed, tears marking her dirty cheeks and a fierce glare directed his way. It wasn’t unexpected considering she was the last of her team they didn’t have in custody; she must have felt any myriad of emotions ranging from despair at failing to fear that they would hurt her. Yet Jason quickly noticed something that made him cuss mid report, and realize the girl's actions weren’t out of defiance, but protectiveness.

“There’s five of them,” Jason reported, finger pressing to his comm and eyes locked onto the new figure that hadn’t been part of any of their intel. And for a good reason. The lad was unconscious on a cot, one of the stolen items in the team’s list, and he didn’t look good. If it weren’t for the shallow, shuddering breaths from him Jason would have thought he were already dead, his skin ghastly pale other than fever flushed cheeks. “There’s another boy, heavily injured. I’m bringing them both out, have someone standing by.”

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

Of course the girl heard his report, and renewed her efforts to fight Jason, blocking him from reaching the fifth member. They didn’t have time to converse gently though, and so Jason grabbed her arm and yanked her forward. “Listen! I’m not going to hurt you, I’m trying to rescue you. There’s a bomb! We have to get out of the building, and get him to a hospital.”

The girl was smart. Or at least not dumb enough to ignore Jason’s words completely, for she froze the moment he mentioned the bomb. “...What?” she asked, wide eyes locking onto him, daring him to trick her.

“Look, you guys trying to steal Lazarus water pissed off the wrong people. They planted a bomb, and my team and I are here to rescue you. We can talk about your crime runs later, alright?” Jason explained a little more, really not wanting to have to knock the girl out too just to get the two to a safe area if he could help it.

The way the girl’s eyes opened, a horrified gasp escaping her, told Jason she wasn’t a bad person. Or at least reinforced what their actions aside from theft had suggested. That was the reaction of someone who realized they’d made a mistake, and felt the weight bearing down from the mess that had been caused because of it. She stopped trying to fight Jason now, pulling away and rushing to the 5th member’s side, grabbing his limp arm and hooking it around her own shoulders to try and lift him up.

“Is he safe to move?” Jason asked, stepping forward to help. Even though the lad looked fairly small, he was still too heavy for the girl judging by how she was struggling to even get him upright. “His spine isn’t hurt? No broken bones?” he asked to clarify when the girl looked at him with a question half voiced.

“No. Nothing broken, just the-” she confirmed, cutting off when Jason reached forward and effortlessly scooped the frail teen up.

“Hold onto my back. We’re going that way,” Jason directed, ignoring the way she tensed, holding herself back from demanding he not touch her friend, and nodding towards the window.

“WhAT?” the girl sputtered, hands jerking as she internally wrestled with being obedient to him or her own sense of self preservation.

“We’re out of time. Just grab on,” Jason half snapped, roughly kicking the window to shatter the glass, twisting his frame to shield the lad in his arms as well, just in case. “One minute,” he added, repeating what Barbara announced in his comms to reinforce his directions.

It was enough. Pursing her lips and giving a soft whimper the girl rushed forward to throw her arms around his shoulders from behind, clinging to him with a death grip. Jason wished he had a better way to carry both of them, but he hadn’t been expecting there to be two of them in the first place. So he could only hope the girl’s grip was strong enough to hang on as he shot a zip line towards where the others were gathered. After getting the other end secured to the building they were in, Jason latched the clip on the rope and swung over the fire escape, curling his legs up to make sure the lad he was carrying had plenty of support. He could hear a muffled, drawn out squeak from the girl on his back, but didn’t comment.

“Wh- Ja- DANNY! LET HIM GO YOU-” the mid teenage girl caught sight of them first, snarling and trashing against her restraints when she saw who Jason had. Cass refused to let her go though, pulling her back to kneeling and considering pushing her down further if necessary. She didn’t get to finish her protests though.

“HEADS DOWN!” Dick shouted after Barbara announced a second to detonation, and those who had capes were throwing them over their targets and each other, hunching over to bodily protect them from the cascades of blasts ripping through the apartment building the Phantoms had been stationed in. They were far enough away that they shouldn’t get hurt from the collapsing rubble, but there was still the possibility of smaller debris getting thrown at them. So they remained huddled on the ground a safe distance away until the rubble settled, and only when it stopped shifting did they stand again.

“Oracle, status on the inbound units?” Dick was the first to speak, the others giving sighs of relief and partially relaxing.

The two middle teenage children had quieted significantly after the explosion, the boy looking at the rubble in shock as he realized they would have been caught in it if it weren't for the group of vigilantes that had captured them. And the girl held a similar period of stunned silence before she started kicking at Cass again. “Get off me! Get your filthy hands off Danny!”

“Sam, it’s okay.” The eldest girl spoke with a shaking voice, slipping off Jason’s back and leaning her head against him in a moment of despair. Cass’s hand froze where it had been about to knock out chop her feisty captive, blinking and looking up instead. So the middle teen’s name was Sam? And the unconscious lad was Danny?

“The meta is waking up. Should I dose her again?” That was Damian, keeping an eye on the youngest Phantom. She was starting to stir, but the eldest Phantom spoke up before the others could.

“Don’t. Please. They’ve been through enough. Just please bring her over here, I’ll manage her,” the eldest girl directed. Her voice was still shaking, but it had steadied somewhat after Jason had turned slightly while remaining crouched to allow her to sit next to their 5th member, her hand resting on his cheek as she was gathering the breaking pieces of her determination.

Stephanie and Cass only exchanged looks with each other, and also Dick and Tim, before Jason spoke up. “Just bring her over. She might be more docile when she’s near this one.”

They didn’t seem completely convinced, but Stephanie at least complied, moving to crouch on one knee with the youngest girl while Damian hovered nearby with another dose of sedatives.

“You’re doing the right thing kid. When the cops get here with the paramedics they’ll get Danny taken care of. You don’t have to worry,” Jason encouraged the eldest girl, grateful that she was getting her team to behave.

“They can’t take him,” she rejected, catching the rest off guard.

“What? Look if it’s about money don’t worry, it’ll be taken care of,” Jason insisted, hoping it wasn’t because of a different possibility he was quickly starting to consider. He’d thought it was just his imagination, but Danny was unusually cold to the touch. Almost like ice. There was another common reason he knew people avoided hospitals despite being this injured.

The eldest girl shook her head again. “It’s not that it’s….” she paused, seeming both reluctant to tell them but also not sure how to tell them what was going on. She wasn’t even sure what was wrong. But when the youngest teen groaned and started to shift the eldest looked at her and found her answer. “Danny is like Danielle. Doctors can’t help them. They’re too different.”

That’s what Jason thought, but it didn’t mean he wanted to hear it, and it earned an understanding but frustrated groan from him and some of the others. “Shit. Alright,“ Dick took charge of the situation, hissing slightly and reaching to his own comms. “Oracle, where’s the nearest safe house? The 5th member is another potential meta, unconscious, and heavy bandaging over the whole torso. Can you contact home and have Penny-one or The Doctor on standby?”

As Dick took care of directing the team, Jason took care of keeping their tentative ally willing to listen to them. “We might have some contacts that can help. We have friends that also need more attention that the regular doctor can give them. Do you kids have names we can use?”

It was more of a lead than they’d had since they’d gotten stranded there, so the eldest teen seemed hesitant but hopeful to grab onto it. After a moment of thinking, her other hand reaching out to Danielle as she started to blink her eyes open, she responded. “My name is Jazz. This is my little brother Danny, my little sister Dani with an I, and our friends Sam and Tucker.”

“... Your parents gave your little siblings the same name?” Jason couldn’t help asking after hearing the relationships. That also explained a lot about why Jazz had been so frantically protective of Danny, aside from her being the oldest of the group.

“It’s… a long story,” Jazz admitted, grimacing a little. “Danielle… was unexpected.”

Looked like Jazz didn’t quite trust them enough. That was fine, they didn’t need a whole backstory right off. Oracle could probably figure it out easily now that she had names and relations. “Fair enough,” Jason dismissed with a grunt, ending his conversation as Dick approached them.

“Hey. There’s a whole mess of stuff going on, I know, but right now we’re going to focus on making sure everyone is taken care of, and then we can figure out the rest of the mess later, okay?” Dick started, leaning low with his hands on his knees and speaking gently. “The police and paramedics can take care of the criminals that were hunting you, but since he’s a special case we’re going to move to a different location where we’ll give everyone a check up. Sound good?”

Jazz didn’t jump at the offer, but they could see she saw promise in it, and hesitantly nodded. “My friends and I stay together at all times. Got it?” she demanded.

“Sure,” Dick agreed, not seeing any issue with that. “But we’ll keep the restraints on if necessary, alright? You all still have charges of assault after all.”

It was easy to see Jazz’s expression fall significantly at the reminder, as though her soul had been slightly crushed. “Yeah… okay,” she agreed, swallowing some nausea that had churned her stomach at being reminded they were criminals. Then, before Danielle could fuss too much, Jazz turned to rest a hand on the small girl’s arm. “Dani, these guys have agreed to help us. So behave and don’t pick any fights unless I say otherwise, alright?”

The fist that Danielle had prepared to punch her holder didn’t move, and after a moment Danielle groaned in reluctant relent. “Guhhhh can I at least punch the guy who drugged me? I feel awful.”

The comment earned a weak chuckle from Jazz, and she patted Danielle’s arm. “I’ll think about it. Just rest for now. We’re moving to a safe place.” She hoped she wasn’t lying to Danielle, and that these people would actually, finally give them the help they needed.

________________

I guess I go here now =v=;;;

Partially inspired by this post. But not including everything because there's a lot of stuff I don't understand. |D This just got stuck in my head so hard I couldn't work on anything else.

[absolutely-esme]

I have seen too many posts where a time traveling member of the JL decides to kill Danny to prevent Dan from happening and not nearly enough where they decide to kill Vlad for the same reason.

Even if a hero was pushed to the point of preemptively killing one of the two people Dan was made from in order to prevent his creation, why would they pick the one who is currently both a hero and a kid instead of the one who's already a villain and a grown ass adult?

Also, it would be so much more fun to read about Vlad getting hunted down by Booster Gold or scrambling to try and stay one step ahead of the world's fastest man while desperately trying to figure out which of his evil schemes they found out and got this hero's attention and pissed them off this much.

Was it bugging his nemesis's house? He can see how that probably looks bad out of context, but he swears the video surveillance of a teenager's bedroom was regular supervillain creepiness, not other types of creepiness!

Edit: Two things.

First off, my wording about having seen too many of the other thing was intended playfully. I am not putting those fics down. You don't have to justify it to me, and I am genuinely sorry if I came across as antagonistic. I think everyone should be allowed to write whatever they want and I don't expect it all to adhere to my likes and dislikes.

That said, I wanted to address something else. I've gotten a few different people just talking about how they would have no reason to target Vlad because of what looks like an older version of Danny, and I wanted to clarify.

Here's the thing: Dan does not look like an older version of Danny, he looks like a fusion of Danny and Vlad.

Unless someone they have reason to believe tells them that Danny grows up to be Dan, there's no reason for them to assume that Danny and Dan are the same person (especially considering that Dan is a name the fans came up with and not something the character himself went by).

So this time traveler sees a teen hero fighting an adult villain both of whom share differing physical characteristics with the Future threat, and the most likely conclusion to draw is that it's a Conner scenario.

Alternately, maybe they did actual research on the origins of the threat before time traveling instead of just hoping that murdering the first person they saw with a familial-level resemblance to the threat would prevent him from going on a rampage.

Here are some pictures of them

See how much Dan gets from Vlad's side?

[shrenvents]

Spellbound

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, oral, cunnilingus, unprotected, fluff, some violence, biting

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Witch reader

Summary: You're a witch with a specific skill set, one that has intrigued a certain hybrid.

Word count: 2.7k

...

Voodoo. Magic. Impulse. Obsession.

She was his newest fascination.

He heard her laughter cracking through the walls of the barren bar before it cut short. Klaus observed how the sunlight blazed across her, poorly parked, car. His lips slanted in mild amusement. He told himself, that’s all it was, all she was. Mild amusement for an immortal. Though, something felt different.

He strutted into the place, head hung high as he scanned the bare vicinity. His eyes halted on a man behind the bar, rinsing glass cups. The bartender's eyes adverted from Klaus, the second he caught his stare. The man's nerves were duly noted as Klaus approached him.

“I’ll have a glass of your finest red,” Klaus spoke artfully, with a fake smile plastered on his face. The worker shuddered. “Ug- we’re not serving right now.”

“No worries mate,” his mellifluous voice paused. “The red I fancy isn’t something I’d find on your menu.” The man's gaze shot up to Klaus’s. His lips trembled as Klaus continued his jest. “Unless you intend to provide me with a bite, I suggest you tell me where she’s hidden.” Klaus’s threat echoed through the building, till silence took its place.

Suddenly, the sound of a back door, opening and slamming shut jolted Klaus away from the bartender. He instantly raced to the door, ripping it open. He watched as her frame scattered into her rusted car. He growled. There was no way he'd let her escape once again...

Your body was convulsing with anxiety. Who were you to know a little magic truce with the “other side,” would have a certain hybrid on your front doorstep. It didn’t help when you levitated everything in your apartment at him, including your freshly made spaghetti with bolognese. It was to be expected, that would piss him off...

Yanking the car door shut, you forced the key in and started the engine.

“Where are we headed this time darling?”

“Ahhh!” You screamed, snapping your head to the uninvited passenger. Klaus sat leisurely beside you, and you swear your life flashed before your eyes. “I must say, I enjoyed our time in Chicago. Perhaps San Fran may be the next best thing, love.” His smug face adorned your features, absorbing the way your face contorted in both fear and frustration.

“Jesus,” you huff, and Klaus’s smirk grows. “As much as I love the idea, somehow becoming your personal chauffeur isn’t that appealing.” Klaus chuckles lowly, leaning in, more and more.

“Well, if you hadn’t decided to run off, you crafty little thing," he drawls sweetly, "We wouldn’t have the pleasure.”

“If you weren’t trying to kill me, maybe I’d stick around.” Klaus’s brows twist like he's appalled by your words. “Who said I was interested in killing you?”

“You- I- then, what do you want?” You stammer. Klaus went quiet. You watched as his expression goes blank, before he acts as though he was in deep thought. Then, his mouth gaped in 'awe,' as if the answer suddenly came to him. “Your talents of course.”

“My talents.” You repeat, baffled.

“Yes, do keep up, my dear.”

“Why? You could have any witch at your disposal, at a moment's notice.”

The corner of his lips elevate once more. “I’m flattered.”

He’s become so close now, you feel his breath, and you try not to shiver as it grazes your neck. He, on the other hand, basks in your scent.

“But, unlike my other witches, you have a gift,” he muses. “Your connection with the dead is something to behold, and something I crave.”

After a prolonged silence, you speak. “If I help you with whatever," you move further into your seat, "When it comes to an end, you’ll let me walk away, unscathed?” Your brow quirks, and with every fibre of your being, you manage to maintain eye contact. “Yes, you have my word.” Klaus’s expression went stoic, holding an unflinching seriousness that made your heart rate stutter. And strangely, you knew you could trust him.

That's how you ended up as his lackey. For the past 5 weeks, you were at his beck and call as he tormented humans, werewolves, and vampires alike.

Like any other day, your conscious is eating away at you, as you call upon another ancestor of those he plagues. Today though, you finally broke. He had been cruelly punishing a guy for hours, as you questioned his late brother through the veil.

“That’s enough!” Klaus’s eyes dart to yours, and his angry appearance softens. Instinctively, he grips your forearm and drags you out of the motel room.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“What's wrong is that I’m tired, and his brother is telling me jack shit about those ‘hunters.’” You huff, closing your eyes.

Klaus firmly presses himself stock-still, resisting every urge that wishes to devour you, as you naively allow him to hold you so close, let your guard down, and close your eyes. Such an urge that has only worsened, and become insatiable since you started your venture together…

“Love, why don’t you grab a bite from the cafe across the street, while I fill up the car's tank?” He says heartfeltly, "That way we both can have a break."

Your eyes flutter open, and you nearly tremble at the gentle look that flickers in his gaze. However, his body language, which clutches you tightly, suggests he is anything but. “Okay.”

After five minutes alone in a booth, you gather up the last of the courage you were trying to dispel. Now, heading back to the rented room, to release the hostage. Stupid, very stupid, you think. But you can’t help it.

When you enter the room, the door slowly creaks shut, and shadows engulf you. It’s too quiet, and you can’t see the hostage. Unease fills your system, and you begin to regret this decision. That impending regret soon became alarms going off, when the captive grabs your torso, roughly caging your arms. His grip is inescapable, and when you try to scream, his free hand covers your mouth.

“You fucking bitch,” he murmurs with disgust, and you wince. “How about I leave you bleeding out here, all laid out for you bloodthirsty master.” The man crackles with humourless laughter. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”

While his venomous words made you cower, you relentlessly struggle against him, fighting with all that you could muster. Unfortunately, your captor was a werewolf, and far too strong for you to at least break free, to cast a spell.

He muffles Klaus’s name with his palm, and tears prick your eyes. Even after the numerous times you’d bicker and argue, he was still the first person who came to mind, who you hopelessly called out to.

The man began lifting your body towards the door, urgently turning the knob. Just as the outside light cuts into your vision, you're wrenched from him, pulled into a powerful embrace. With ease, Klaus’s arms carry you away, swiftly placing you in the backseat of your car, locked safely inside.

His figure then disappears just as quickly, and you hear your aggressor's voice wail in pain. Shaking, you curl over yourself, covering both ears pathetically.

After what feels like an eternity, two large hands cup your tear-stained cheeks, bringing you out of your shell. He quiets you, as he slides inside the vehicle, smoothly pulling you onto his lap. One of his arms supports your back, while the other strokes your hair. Calming you down, he mutters things like: 'Everything’s fine now love,' 'I’m here,' 'I’ll take care of you...'

“I’ve never felt so helpless,” you mumble.

He shakes his head. “There’s nothing you could've done to stop a werewolf, especially when a full moon draws near,” he soothes. You press your cheek further into his broad chest. “Though, I wish you would’ve just listened to me for once, and stayed put.”

You shoot your head up, adjusting to face him, close enough that your noses nearly meet. “If I listened to you, I’d probably be dead by now.”

“Oh really?” He grins, eyes creasing, “How so?”

“Well, for one, that time you ordered me to question that vampire chick's dead boyfriend about his affair, right in front of her.” Klaus guffaws. “You're laughing, but she would've bit my head off.”

“She wouldn’t have,” he denies, still chuckling.

“Yes, she would have Klaus.” You start to laugh too.

“You know, I wouldn’t have let her.” His face deadpans, “Like I didn’t let our were-friend hurt you," he voices, airily. "I gave you my word.”

“Yes, of course, your word.” You giggle nervously, glancing at the hand currently bracing your thigh, gliding its thumb back and forth. “It’s not all that I’ve given you.”

You look up and are met with a mysterious look this time. Your brows furrow in confusion. He smiles dreamily, “Your skills as a witch truly know no bounds.”

“The hell are you talking about now?” You retort, making Klaus laugh loudly.

“I’m talking about your spell," he whispers. "The one that has bewitched me.”

You freeze, heart dropping.

“You don’t mean that...” Your sentence trails off as Klaus stares through you.

He’s so unpredictable, that a part of you believes he's most likely playing some sick game. But, there was also a possibility that he meant it, and all the hidden desires, for your unconventional boss, were about to bubble to the surface.

“I've meant every word, from the moment I met you, when you got the better of me.” He smirks, breath fanning your face. “Witchcraft.”

Then his lips take yours, slow at first, but the entanglement shortly turns desperate. Slightly hesitant, you grind on him, eager to pull him closer. He groans, and his hands enthusiastically roam your waist and back, beckoning you nearer.

Moving in a frenzy, as your fingers tangle in his locks, you swing your leg to straddle him. He moans your name in between kisses, and palms your ass.

Continuously rolling your body into him, makes you feel his arousal, causing a whine to escape. When your lips break apart, his mouth runs down your jaw, to your neck. You gasp, but you don’t stop him. He audibly tells you how much he’s enjoying himself, and you squeeze your thighs over his.

“I can only imagine how sinful you taste here darling.” He remarks as his hand slides over your core, and you whimper. “How about you let me try?” He hums politely. “You know you want me to.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?” His voice rises questioningly, and a hand gropes your chest, while the other grips your chin, tilting your head down to peer into his eyes. “Not here,” you finish, and he smirks wildly.

“Then, I’ll just have to get us a private room?” He purrs seductively into you ear, making you shiver. “One that is, unoccupied,” he rolls his tongue, and you shiver again at the double meaning behind his words. You don’t even want to think about what he did to your assailant…

“Please,” you sigh into a kiss, pecking his lips, which seems to surprise Klaus momentarily. His surprise briskly turns into a beaming smile. “To be continued,” he utters before shifting you off him, and rushing out the car.

Not long after, Klaus reappears with that same childlike cheer gracing his features. Jerking the door open, he outstretches his hand like a gentleman. You accept it, and his palm completely envelops yours. He tugs you to his hip, and nibbles on your earlobe while you walk to a random room.

As soon as the door locks behind you, he presses himself against your backside. “Now, how about that taste?” He mutters while lifting your hair to kiss your nape, and rubbing himself against you. You press closer, before spinning around to enclose your mouth on his again. He groans into your mouth approvingly, backing your body toward the queen-size bed.

His lips free yours when your back legs hit the edge, and you fall backwards with a yelp. His hands soon make work of your lower half, removing your clothes as he kneels infront of your cunt. You inhale deeply, as cool air hits your bare body.

He goes silent, so you raise your head to peek at him. Klaus ogles you heatedly, like the predator he is. “Lovely,” he sing-songs.

He abruptly grips your thighs and heaves your core to his mouth, so close, his breath warms your skin. “K-Klaus.”

“Hmmm,” he hums shortly, before delving into you. You sob a cry of shock. His tongue expertly runs over your folds, sucking the nub with such a slow deliberation, like he can’t decide how he wishes to take you at first, as if he’s imagined every which way he could.

You whine, motioning him to make his choice, bucking up, feeling his stubble scratch you. Then he grows aggressive, hungrily lapping your clit, over and over, until he ushers out your orgasm.

When your lengthy climax finishes, he moves to sigh pleasantly into the crook of your neck. “You’re incredible,” he emits with a chant of your name, thoroughly relaxing your shaking form.

“Fuck, take off your clothes,” you beg. He immediately abides by your command, tearing off his shirt and pants. You grab his necklaces to haul his lips to yours. You savour every inch of yourself on his tongue, and he relishes in how dirty the act is.

“There’s only so much I can do before dawn, and it won't nearly be enough to satisfy my hunger for you.” His poetic words erupt something within. You exhale, “It seems you’re going to break your promise then.”

He stills at your words, befuddled. You elaborate, “There’s no way I’m coming out of this unscathed.” A timid smile spreads across your face, and he almost nods in understanding, feeling a strange quiver in his chest.

Wordlessly, he pulls himself from his slacks, and you take off the last of your clothes. Suddenly feeling a little out of body, you decide to take back some control of the situation. So, you flip your positions, once again, surprising Klaus, though he allows it.

You straddle him, and lower yourself onto his thick cock. You whimper the second the tip enters, and he growls, pressing his fingertips into your hips, definitely leaving bruises.

“You’re too big,” you gasp.

“You can handle it, sweetheart,” he states mindlessly. He wraps his arms around your waist and arms, pulling you down onto him. His hips press completely into you, pushing himself inside to the hilt. A wheeze leaves your lungs as he grounds into you. “Klaus, it’s too-“

“It’s perfect,” he finishes for you. You barely have any time to adapt to his size before he begins pounding. Pleasure wracks through you, and he takes whatever control you had away. His pace is unnerving, and you utter incoherent words, while his fangs graze your neck.

“Tell me,” he groans through his panting. “Tell me you want me.” He demands, though it almost sounds like he’s begging for it. “I-I want you.” The words stumble out as his thrusts reach your center.

“More,” he just about whines.

“I want you Klaus,” you shout. “You feel so good- fuck I’ve always wanted this, you.” You ramble, egged on by him. He loves it, and you feel it in his strength. He holds you tighter, and the air abandons your body.

Feeling his leg tremble, you know he’s close. “Bite me.” His clamped-shut eyelids pop open, and his dark pupils bore into yours. You kiss him, and take his bottom lip between your teeth. “Bite me while you cum,” you command.

He gulps before taking his last few pumps into you. He moans into your neck as his teeth puncture your flesh. You cry out at the mixture of pain and pleasure that shatters you both.

After almost 10 minutes, he releases you from his firm caress and kisses the holes in your neck.

Still inside, he turns you both on your sides. You catch your breath. “How are you still hard?” You sigh in exasperation, and he chuckles breezily. “I told you, you’ve bewitched my very soul darling.” He smirks.

“This is only the beginning.”

If you enjoyed this, i'm currently writing a klaus fanfic! it’ll be posted on my wattpad @ shrenvents <33

[yourmidnightlover]

forever?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.

warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!

a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling

pt 2 -> control

two months out of forever.

two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.

in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 

the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 

you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 

on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 

they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.

so far, he’s been the opposite. 

for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 

because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 

but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 

the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.

the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.

you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.

those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…

you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 

peace.

a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 

but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 

“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 

“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”

you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”

“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 

-

the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 

you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 

you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.

“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 

“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”

“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”

you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 

you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 

luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 

t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 

the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 

“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 

“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”

as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 

“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 

in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 

you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 

you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 

you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 

you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 

“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 

“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.

“i don’t-i’ve got it…”

“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.

“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 

“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”

then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 

“i think he might mind.”

you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 

his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.

“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.

your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 

you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 

your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.

and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 

you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 

“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 

“but the dish-”

“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 

“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.

he won’t hurt you.

he has to protect his image.

you’ve embarrassed him.

you’re his wife.

you’re his business deal.

you’ve humiliated him.

he’ll hurt you.

you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 

your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 

and then there was a knock at the door. 

your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 

he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 

“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.

automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.

“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 

you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 

“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 

“you don’t have to-”

“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.

you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 

how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 

“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.

“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.

“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 

sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 

but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 

[hedgehog-moss]

Here are 7 little facts about my donkey and how his summer is going :)

1. I received an anon the other day asking if Pirou was still a working donkey who carries my firewood for me, and the answer is yes. I've been cutting some branches from the big cherry tree that fell down the other day, and Pirlouit has been valiantly carrying them to the woodshed—fun fact, for this activity he likes to wear his ears like this:

Probably because this T position is reminiscent of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, which is how Pirlouit perceives himself as he carries heavy logs for me. He's willing, but his martyrdom should be acknowledged.

Here's Poldine acknowledging it with a nose kiss, because Poldine.

I stopped so they could have their little chat.

2. Pirou has been chatting with a lot of new friends lately—we met these horses on a walk and he was so happy to stop and touch noses with them while making equid noises. Llamas are good with the nose-touching but their llama noises are just less interesting to Pirlouit. He had such interested ears here! "Finally a serious grown-up conversation"

We also met this goose during the same walk and Pirlouit was a lot less eager to go say hi to her. The goose was yelling threats at us and we prudently stayed away, and Pirou was clearly thinking "this bird is doing a better job at protecting her home from intruders than Pandolf ever could" (it's true, Pan assumes intruders are friends until proven otherwise)

3. You'll notice that there are houses in this pic! Our walks got longer and longer until one day we went all the way to the village (it took 1 hour 20min at Pirlouit's leisurely pace). I was so proud of him. I've been trying to convince my friends to go to the village on donkeyback (this requires two people, because you can ride Pirlouit but you can't tell him where to go unless there's someone holding his rope and leading the way)—my friends were reluctant because they still sort of perceive Pirou as the feral animal terrified of everything that he was when I got him. They know he's made a lot of progress but going to town on donkeyback still seemed foolhardy.

So we've been riding Pirlouit in the woods, in familiar environments, and we also went to town with him but without riding him. He was amazingly calm and brave! There's a river that cuts the village in two and the first time we went, we stopped before the bridge, since it's pretty narrow and cars would have to drive very close to Pirlouit, we didn't want to risk it. We just went to say hi to the librarian who lives on the right side of the river, but since Pirlouit was very serene, we did cross the bridge the second time.

He did not care at all about cars driving very close to him (he had one familiar human on either side of him and the drivers were very considerate and went slowly), which emboldened us to stop for a drink on the terrace of the coffeeshop on main street (< also a narrow street with cars driving by quite close to Pirlouit). There was just no problem at all, Pirou let total strangers rub his forehead and was more interested in iced tea than main street traffic.

It was a hot day and we gave him all the ice cubes from our drinks and he chewed them enthusiastically.

4. We made a stop at the pharmacy on our way home because we had another 1 hour 20min walk ahead and I had a blister, and the pharmacist noticed my donkey parked outside his shop and in a determined tone he said, "I want to try something." He took one of the donkey milk soaps from the overpriced-Provence-soaps-for-tourists display and opened the door and offered it for Pirlouit to sniff.

... I'm not sure what he was expecting—for my donkey to go "ohhh this smells like Mother's milk and aloe vera 🥺"—but unfortunately nothing happened.

(4. bis—Sorry, this 4th fact was anticlimactic.)

5. Pirlouit is now the proud owner of a surcingle. Not for equestrian vaulting and not for his log-carrying job because I don't know if it would be solid enough for the weight of a bag full of logs, but I'd like to tie bags or baskets to it to take Pirlouit grocery shopping, now that I know he's okay with going to town :) He even seems to enjoy the adventure, and the attention he gets from children.

And actually I shouldn't write off equestrian vaulting because Pirou is also remarkably chill with weird things happening on his back. I used to be very careful to climb on his back in a quick & fluid way so he wouldn't spook (because he used to! a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil used to spook him!) but now that my friends are riding him I can confirm we've reached a point where you can climb on Pirlouit's back in any way you want and he'll just be like "...... sure"

6. I almost forgot to mention that Pirou turned 15 last month, according to his ID papers :) Donkeys have a longer life expectancy than horses, they can live 30-40 years on average so he's still a young lad really. Happy 15th birthday Pirlouit :)

7. I wanted to conclude with a nice aesthetic pic of Pirou's shadow on the road during all those walks, like I did with Poldine, but unfortunately donkey shadows do not have the chic je-ne-sais-quoi of llama shadows. Pirlouit looks like a hammerhead shark wearing a tiny fez and that's not his fault.

[lordprettyflackotara]

danger || masky & eyeless jack

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: threesome! congrats you take a trip to paris! exhibitionism, breeding, slight size kink, rough sex, degrading, face fucking

Masky did not consider himself a selfish man.

If anything he thought of himself to be reasonable.

So when it came to meeting you by mistake, a stereotypical robbery he was performing going wrong, he didn’t consider himself selfish for not killing you.

If anyone knew the proxies golden rule of never being able to be traced it was him. But maybe he was selfish when it came to you. You were a little small town receptionist in a town he frequented. Not necessarily for missions, but he passed through frequently. If anyone knew of your existence you’d be terminated on the spot. You knew Masky lived a fast and unpredictable life, but he made sure to keep you in the shadows as to why or how. He figured you just accepted that he was in a gang or the mafia or something. It would be the most logical assumption, especially with the mask glued to his face and off putting name. Still though, Masky found himself going to see you every chance he got. As time went on he began accepting and asking for more solo missions, using the extra tasks as an excuse to see you.

He thought he had done a damn good job of keeping you safe from his terrifying life, until you had followed him into the forest as he trudged home.

It was nothing but morbid curiosity that led you to nip at Masky’s heels as you followed him. You were surprised he hadn’t heard you, your lover stopping at the forest line. Your eyes widened at the sight of a large seemingly unoccupied mansion that sat in the middle of a well trimmed field. Many questions ran through your mind, the most important one being: why would Masky willingly live here? It wasn’t necessarily out of character but it wasn’t the most flattering choice. Your boyfriend was ominous and mysterious, purposefully keeping you in the dark about his life. At first it was intriguing, but the longer he kept the affair going, the more curious you became. Despite the relationship revolving around sex, you wanted to discuss taking things to the next level. Maybe instead of raw dogging in your car you could try a movie instead. You couldn’t think of a better way than showing him you were serious by showing your dedication.

Most people wouldn’t follow their possible mafia boyfriend into a patch of secluded woods, but nevertheless you did so. You thought maybe he realized you were there, inhaling his cigarette as he stood at the forest line. “Hey there,” You greeted excitedly. Masky jumped at the sound of your voice, realizing he was too lost in his own thoughts to hear you follow him. “Princess? What the fuck are you doing here?” He snapped, becoming increasingly panicked. There were many horrific scenarios that could occur with you being here. It was a miracle The Rake hadn’t heard your heart beating or smelled you. The next terrifying scenario was Smile Dog smelling you, but he remembered Jeff took him and Nina on a late night killing spree. They called themselves ‘the triple threat’, which until now Masky thought was incredibly stupid. He now was suddenly thankful for Jeff and his inflated ego.

Next was The Operator, who could most likely read your thoughts. If he suspected an unwelcome guest was on the property he would know to search. Otherwise unless he physically ran into you, Masky doubted that would be a problem. His eyes widened as he realized the last scenario, was undoubtedly the most realistic and the least preventable. “I followed you. I think it’s time to take things to the next level and-” You began, Masky roughly grabbing your arm and cutting you off. He yanked you into the clearing, bee lining straight for the house. “Ow! Masky what the hell?!” You hissed, The brunette angrily threw his cigarette on the lawn, stomping on it and trudging closer to the mansion. You began to try to pull away when he didn’t answer, this only angering him further. In a fit of rage he turned around, glaring down at you. “Do you have any idea what kind of danger you’re in by being here?” He seethed.

“Relax no one knows i’m here, it’s not like they can smell me,” You argued. Masky pulled you further, clenching his jaw. “Actually princess, they can,” He barked. He threw open the back kitchen door, looking around before dragging you inside. “You need to stay quiet, just stay behind me,” Masky whispered. He loosened his grip on your arm, slithering it down to your hand. You intertwined your fingers with his, allowing him to lead you further into the unsettling mansion. Masky peaked around the corner, Ben passed out on the living room couch with an open bag of doritos on his chest. “Who is that-” You began to whisper, Masky hissing at you to shush. You zipped your lips, trailing behind him as he led you up the stairs. Masky was acutely aware of how intense the situation was, his heart racing. Any creep could come home at any time, which would result in your untimely demise. You followed him down the seemingly endless hallway, looking around and noting the countless doors that lined each wall.

Masky yanked open his bedroom door, throwing you inside and shutting it quickly. He fiddled with the lock, dead bolting it before turning to you. “You need to listen to me very carefully, you are in grave danger being here,” Masky said as calmly as he could muster. You sarcastically chuckled, crossing your arms. “Oh cmon, what could your mafia friends possibly do to me?” You asked naively. Masky turned on his bedside lamp, illuminating the serious expression on his face as he took off his mask. “I am not in the goddamn mafia. I live amongst immortal serial killers that would tear your organs out if they knew you were here,” He rambled. He ran his fingers through his hair, his brain racking itself for a solution. “Masky if you don’t want us to be anything more than fuck buddies just say so don’t make up some elaborate lie,” You argued flatly. Masky turned to you, gripping your forearms. “Elaborate lie??? Are you fucking listening to me?” He hissed.

It was a loud knock on Masky’s door that interrupted your argument, the two of you looking over at the door in horror. “You weren’t lying were you?” You whispered. If Masky didn’t know who was at the door he would’ve rolled his eyes. “No I wasn’t now hide,” He whispered aggressively. You threw yourself around his bed, crawling underneath it. Dust buddies danced around your body as you tried to hold your breath, Masky opening the door. He wasn’t surprised to see Eyeless Jack standing outside. His mask hid his facial expression, making his presence ominous. “EJ!” Masky greeted, trying to not visibly sweat bullets. Jack didn’t move, standing completely still. “Masky,” He replied flatly. You itched your nose, the dust buddies violating your nostrils as you hid under the bed. You couldn’t see the horrific monster that was Eyeless Jack, hiding under the bed only allowing you to see his large boots. “What uh, what brings you here?” Masky asked as calmly as possible. Jack tilted his head to the side, his ears twitching. “I think we both know why i’m here Masky,” He said coldly.

Masky threw his hands up sarcastically, leaning on the bedroom door. “No not at all would you like to elaborate?” Masky asked. You cringed as you tried to itch your nose, the dust causing you to awkwardly try to put your sleeve over your face. It was then you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You sneezed, Masky trying his hardest not to turn around. “Did your bed just sneeze?” Jack asked. Masky grabbed Jack by his sleeve, dragging him inside of his bedroom. He shut the door. You awkwardly took it as you cue to crawl out from under the bed, meeting the assertive gazes of Jack and Masky. Jack extended his hand for you to take, helping you rise to your feet. You stared up at him in awe, visibly gawking at his overbearing height. “Do I want to ask?” Jack questioned. Masky awkwardly shuffled his weight on each leg. “Jack this is my girlfriend….” Masky said, his voice trailing off. With wide eyes you waved, Jack’s eye sockets narrowing under his mask.

“Bringing another human here with a loud ass heartbeat like that wasn’t the brightest idea,” Jack said. Masky ran his fingers through his hair anxiously, before digging in his pockets for a cigarette. “He can hear my heartbeat?” You whispered to Masky, who side eyed you before returning his attention to Jack. He sighed, finally finding a cigarette in his pocket. “Jack you do so much for me I need you to do me one final solid and help me transport her out of here alive,” Masky said. You looked back and forth between the two.

“Uh Mask that sounds just a little bit traffick-y if you know what I mean-”

The death glare he delivered demanded that you be quiet, but the two of you were awaiting Jack’s response. “What’s in it for me?” The demon asked, his large hands leaving his hoodie pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the dark ash color that seemed to be his skin tone, your heart pounding even faster. “Whatever you want Jack, seriously, i’m in your debt,” Masky rambled. Being in debt and/or owing a favor to anyone in the mansion was practically a death sentence, but he’d do anything for you. Jack looked over at you, causing you to stand more awkwardly. His gaze went up and down, scanning your body. Masky immediately picked up on what he was doing, clenching his jaw. “Nuh uh no way EJ, burn in hell,” He growled. He fumbled to find a lighter, finally locating one in his coat. “My seasonal heat is only a few days away. If I release appropriate steam beforehand perhaps I won’t accidentally terrorize Jane this year,” Jack fully proposed. Your mind swirled at the phrase ‘heat’, instantly trying to dissect the meaning. “So what? You want a threesome?” Masky questioned through gritted teeth. Jack sighed, watching the proxy scramble to light his cigarette. “Of course not, i’d expect you to watch. I don’t think you could keep up with my pacing,” Jack denied.

The realization of what was happening made your eyes widen, a chill running down your spine as you watched the two bicker. You loved Masky endlessly, but the sight of a giant demon requesting to have sex with you so formally was turning you on. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you found yourself terrified but also aroused as to what such an unpredictable monster could do to you. Masky was rambling at this point, before Jack stopped him.

“She wants me.”

“What? EJ you’ve lost your goddamn mind-”

“I can smell her.”

The silence in the room was heavy as Masky’s gaze fell on you. “Really princess?” He asked. You watched him inhale his cigarette like he always did, something different crossing his eyes. Nodding, Masky then sighed. “Alright fine, whatever it takes to keep her alive. I’ll be in the corner watching though. Gotta make sure you won’t eat her,” Masky agreed. You watched him grab a wooden chair, pulling it and sitting on it in the corner of the room. His legs were spread as he slid his mask back on, hiding his facial expression as he watched you face Jack. “Uh hi,” You greeted awkwardly. Jack had a sinister grin curling up his lips under his mask as he looked down at you. “I’m not much of a talker, just let me know if things are too much for you, alright?” The demon asked. You nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. Jack crawled on top of you, guiding you to lay on your back. Anxiously you closed your eyes, feeling him lift his mask to kiss your neck. He could feel the blood pumping through your veins, with each kiss, his own heart beginning to race.

Jack couldn’t recall the last time he had a mate during his heats and he planned on taking full advantage of the situation. And with you being a small human girl, he knew his plans would go very smoothly. It was easy to please a woman, he thought. He sucked and nipped at your skin, his razor sharp teeth grazing your skin. “If I see blood i’ll have your head EJ,” Masky interrupted, his voice cold and dripping with venom. Jack brought his large hands to your breast, ignoring Masky’s comment. He could smell your arousal becoming more apparent, the demon almost sure your panties were soaked by now. He palmed at your nipples through your shirt, quite frankly finding himself becoming impatient. Unfortunately though due to the size difference you’d need prep work. It was taking Jack everything in him to not bend you over in front of the proxy and fuck you senseless. He kissed down your stomach, relishing in the sight of your hips bucking upwards eagerly. “You can be loud you know, won’t bother me at all,” Jack hummed. You were sure your face was red, the embarrassment of his words and Masky’s endless stare humiliating you. “R-Right of course,” You swallowed, the demon’s long fingers looping through the hoops of your jeans.

In a swift motion he pulled them down, exposing your lacey pink panties. “How cute is this, did you wear these just for Masky?” Jack asked, his mischievous smile allowing you to see his rows of razor sharp teeth. You babbled an agreement, your hips bucking upwards with desperation. Goosebumps trailed across your skin as he began to pull your panties downwards with his teeth, the pointy ends tearing at the fabric. By the time it reached your ankles it was a pile of scraps, one Jack threw at Masky before nuzzling back in between your thighs. He ran two fingers up and down your slick, collecting your arousal before shoving it back inside of you. Jack’s fingers were much longer than your lovers, your back arching off of the bed once he curled them. “There we go, why don’t you relax and loosen up for me?” Jack purred. The feeling of your walls clinging to his digits were only making his cock harder, your thighs attempting to close as Jack unexpectedly began to ruthlessly finger fuck you. He didn’t bother going slow, knowing you were beyond eager to have him ruin you as a show for your pretty human boyfriend. Masky had already finished his first cigarette, going for a second one as his cock grew harder in his jeans. His pride refused to let him admit seeing you melt for a demon aroused him.

His fingers abused your g spot, his other large hand prying your thighs open and forcing you to take what he was giving you. You were seeing stars, your sinful moans surely loud enough for the mansions other residents to hear. “Awe, doesn’t that feel good human? So impossibly good?” Jack chuckled darkly, watching your thighs begin to tremble. You grabbed onto his wrist in an attempt to slow him down, unable to control your body from chasing its first orgasm. “Wow would you look at that. About to cum already? That must be some sort of world record, don’t you agree Masky?” Jack asked sarcastically, grinning as he pinned one of your thighs down onto the bed. Masky clenched his jaw, inhaling his cigarette as reached your first climax. Jack’s motions were not only rough but ruthless, finger fucking you through your orgasm as your vision turned white. You were palming at the sheets, Jack quick to rearrange you once you had rode out your high. You could barely process it as Jack put you on all fours, grabbing your ass and guiding it against his cock. Masky narrowed his eyes as you eagerly tried to wiggle your ass against Jack, desperate for him to get on with it.

Jack gripped at the mounds of your ass, spreading them open and examining your holes. “You sure did pick a pretty one Masky,” He complimented, your face flushing as you heard him unzip his pants. The demon teased you with the tip of his cock, your body stiffening. You had never seen nevertheless felt such a large cock, your anxiety rising as he collected your slick. “Arch your back human, give Masky a proper show,” Jack encouraged, pushing himself inside of you. Surprisingly it didn’t take long for the impossible stretch to become feasible, your walls milking Jack’s cock as he sank deeper into you. Along with this satisfaction came your moans, the demons name finally falling off of your tongue. The sound of that pushed Masky to the limit, the proxy flicking his cigarette to the side and rising from his chair. Angrily he grabbed a fistful of your hair, unzipping his jeans. “This wasn’t apart of the agreement,” Jack hummed, his cock buried inside of your cunt. He hadn’t moved yet, curious to see what the proxy would do. “I don’t give a shit. No girl of mine is gonna be moaning your name,” Masky huffed, shoving down his jeans and boxers.

The sight of your aching boyfriend’s cock made you roll out your tongue, your mouth practically watering at the sight of it. Masky was quick to stuff your mouth with his shaft, causing you to choke as he pushed you down further onto him. Jack took this as his cue to begin fucking you, his slender fingers digging into your ass as he snapped his hips into yours. You braced yourself as best as you could, Masky groaning as he shoved himself down your throat. “Dirty fuckin whore, gettin’ off to me and a demon ruining you? Pathetic,” Masky snarled. It infuriated him to see you enjoying Jack’s cock as much as you were, your body shaking with ecstasy as you were squished between both men. But something about the humiliation of seeing you enjoy it so much did something for the proxy, whether or not he wanted to admit it. He shoved himself further down your throat, watching you gag on his cock. Saliva dripped down the sides of your mouth, tears flooding your waterline. “You picked a fine mate. Is very easy to breed it seems,” Jack added, noting your walls fluttering around him as he spoke the statement. “Fuckin slut,” Masky growled, yanking forcefully at your hair and making you gag on his cock. Your moans were nothing but extra vibrations for Masky to enjoy, your ability to breathe delightfully restricted in the best way.

Jack’s thrust were merciless, the urge to breed you forever clouding his mind as he focused on the task at hand. Masky wanted nothing more than to see you suffer for his own pleasure, face fucking you as roughly as he possibly could. “You’re such a fuckin slut you’re gonna let a demon cum in you? Really? Stupid bitch,” Masky rambled, feeling his own high coming on. Jack’s fingers were leaving indented bruises on your ass, his cock abusing your cervix with each thrust as he pushed you further and further towards your boyfriend’s cock. You were on a mind numbing high, your body convulsing as you unexpectedly came again. You were too dazed to think, allowing your body to go slack and expecting both men to keep you upright. It wasn’t long before both men filled both of your holes. “Dont swallow my cum slut, stick out your tongue,” Masky barked. You did as instructed, smudged mascara and lipstick down your face. You could feel Jack’s warm cum fill up your womb, so much so extra semen was dripping down your cunt. The demon rounded the bed, joining Masky’s side as they stared at you. You were humiliated as their cum dropped down your tongue and abused cunt.

“What a filthy fuckin cum dump.”

“You seem to be right on that.”

“What’d you say we fill her up some more? She still has another hole to fill after all.”

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Thinking about being a demigod as a metaphor for neurodivergency

Thinking about demigods fighting monsters no one else can see, thinking about the mist, how mortals just can’t see it. Thinking about Mrs Dodds, and how everyone told Percy he was crazy for remembering her. How ableism and insults are just so typical in places like a high school and yet if you’re neurodivergent and remember it years after school, you’re called crazy and obsessed because “it wasn’t that bad” and “you need to move on”. How Nancy Bobofit called Percy special. How Chiron (a centaur) was the only teacher to be actually nice and understanding of Percy, since he too wasn’t a mortal. How mortals can’t see the monsters and swords, how they can’t see the struggles we face and our defense mechanisms/ways to cope. How demigods just trying to defense themselves against monsters are seen as “evil” or a threat by mortals, because they can’t see than the reason they made that thing explode was to survive, than the bump on their car wasn’t actually made on purpose, but by a monster throwing them against it. How the world is dangerous to demigods, how they always have to stay alert, how there was always something off about them growing up. How they might have known they were demigods since a young age, or if not demigods, they knew something was different about them. Like Annabeth, who kept attracting monsters and decided to run away at just 8. She knew, her father knew, her family knew. There was no point in hiding it, no point in pretending it wasn’t there, everyone could see it. Thinking about Percy, how his mom knew, and how she made sure to help Percy no matter what, how she never cared. Thinking about Leo, who didn’t know until he was a teenager, who figured out on his own, who’s childhood was traumatized by his powers, how being a demigod completely ruined what would have been a lovely childhood. Thinking about Percy’s time in school, thinking about the demigods having adhd and dyslexia, thinking about how “their brains are trained for ancient greek/latin” and how they have trouble understanding what everyone else can easily read. Sure, it’s dyslexia, but it can also be something else. Their brains are not trained for neurotypical social cues, that’s not a language their fluent in, they have their own language, which neurotypicals can’t understand. How if they tell someone they’re a demigod, they won’t believe them, and think they’re weird. How it’s not something they can mention unless around the right people (other demigods, gods, mythological creatures, or parents of demigods kids, which in this scenario, is anyone with a connection to neurodiversity). How the parents sometimes are aware their kid is a demigod (like Sally), because they know the other parent was a god, in this scenario, they’re aware of the possibility of a neurodivergent kid because they slept with a neurodivergent person. Except sometimes they don’t know the other parent is a god, they don’t know their kid is a demigod. How someone can have neurodivergent kids, who’s neurodivergency is passed down from their other parent, except the other parent is not diagnosed. How, even still the neurodiversity community, there’s still stigma and stereotypes. How they treated Nico, even if he was just like them, simply because he didn’t fit. How the more visibly demigod you are, if you’re the child of one of the big three, the more monsters you attract, the more dangerous life becomes, how the moment a demigod realizes they're a demigod, they can't hide it, they attract more monsters, there’s no turning back.

Thinking about being a demigod as a metaphor for neurodivergency

[obsessedwithceleste]

Theodore Nott and the Fortress of Trust Issues: how to cast a patronus in 3 easy steps

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore Nott had never been able to cast a patronus. In third year, when dementors were swarming the castle, of course he tried, but was never able to manage more than a whisp of soft silver. Come seventh year, he was painfully unsurprised when his efforts were once again lack luster. Turns out, with the right tutor, casting the formidable charm might not be as impossible as he thought.

word count: 3.8k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theodore glowered menacingly at the students below him chattering happily amongst themselves in the courtyard. A puff of smoke slipping through his lips as he leaned on the railing of the astronomy tower. Theo knew his life wasn’t exactly one that most would be envious of. Sure his family had money, power, but add on a mother who had died far before her time, and a death eater father whose attention it was far better to avoid? Theo laughed dryly to himself.

Theo knew he didn’t have many happy memories. Truly happy memories. He was painfully, excruciatingly, self aware. Still, nothing made it quite so glaringly obvious that his life was rather pathetic than broadcasting to his entire charms class his bitter inability to force even a wisp of silvery bloody smoke out of his bloody wand. Yes. Flitwick had finally found his weakness. That damned Patronus spell. Being one of the top students of his year, it was humiliating. It wasn’t even expected that most of the class would be able to cast a corporeal patronus, yet even Draco and Matteo of all people managed to produce soft billowy clouds of silvery magic.

Theo shook his head at the thought, trying to clear his mind. His eyes once again began gazing about the courtyard before landing on a lone figure sitting beneath a willow tree, hidden from view unless one was looking close enough. Theo brought his smoke to his lips once more, inhaling deeply as he watched a burst of silver leave the tip of the girl’s wand. His eyes darkened with envy, remembering the words of his professor from earlier that day.

“Wonderful, y/n. Just wonderful! A fox! Withdrawn when necessary, but natural adaptors. Embodying intelligence, independence, mischief, and beauty. A unique patronus indeed.”

His eyes narrowed as he watched the silver creature trot happily through the air before turning and dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it harshly. With one last glance at the girl sitting awestruck with her silvery companion, he descended down the stairs, determined to spend the rest of his night, moping in peace.

Step 1: Find a Pretty Tutor (read: have a tutor forced upon you under the threat of a failing grade.)

“What do you mean a tutor? You of all people?” Matteo laughs mercilessly as Theo scowls at him. “Can’t believe I’m doing better than you in a class, you must be bloody miffed.”

Theo tuned out his friend’s laughter as he continued to glower at the floor in front of him. The two boys currently sat in the Slytherin common room as Theo hastily tried to finish up his ancient runes homework before dragging his arse to the library to meet his supposed tutor. Matteo was making this quite difficult however as he continued to poke fun at the boy, rattling on about how, for once, Theo had had the nerve to not be good at something. The horror.

Snapping his textbook closed and sliding it into his book bag, Theo began gathering his things, choosing to forego the blasted assignment.

“Aww, have fun with you little tutor Teddy. Maybe it’ll be that foxy Ravenclaw you’re always staring at. Bit ironic that her patronus is a fox innit?” Matteo teases as he watches his friend’s jaw clench at the mention of the pretty girl.

While perhaps Matteo wasn’t the most entirely perceptive of the bunch, it would take a blind man to not notice Theodore’s eyes flicker over to the group of Ravenclaws throughout their shared charms class.

“Shut up Matt. Shouldn’t you be shagging Astoria in a broom closet somewhere?” He grunts out.

Matteo smirks, knowing he’d found a tick, but deciding to leave it for another time.

“Not a bad idea mate, see you later. You’ll have to tell Enzo and I all about your tutoring session tonight,” he says with a wink before sauntering off towards the girl’s dormitories.

With a heavy sigh, Theo began making his way slowly towards the library, silently cursing Professor Flitwick as he recalled their conversation from earlier that day.

Class was finally wrapping up for the day and Theo was about ready to bolt out of that blasted classroom, but Flitwick had other ideas.

“Mr. Nott? A word?” He’s called from his grand podium in the center of the room.

The summons had garnered a few raised eyebrows and surprised looks from his fellow classmates, and Theo had trudged solemnly up to the professor.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you appeared to have had some difficulty today,” the professor and stated rather bluntly after all the other students had shuffled out.

Theo blinked back up at his professor.

“You do understand of course, that I cannot grant marks for a spell you did not perform?” He asks finally.

Theo once again stares blankly back at the professor.

Appearing to grow uncomfortable under the boy’s steady, unwavering gaze, Flitwick lets out a deep sigh.

“Mr. Nott. I’m aware that you are quite the talented young wizard, and I simply do not want to have to give you low marks on an assignment I’m confident you could perform well on.”

Still nothing from the brown haired Slytherin.

“I’ve arranged for you to begin working with a tutor until you’re able to cast the spell.” He says finally.

Theo frowns. He’s never had a tutor before. Never needed one.

“Professor-“ he begins to protest.

“The two of you can begin later this evening. 8 o’clock in the library,” Flitwick interrupts before shooing him off to his next class.

Finally arriving outside the library doors, Theo made another look of distaste before pushing through the large double doors. His eyes gazed over the tables not entirely sure who he was looking for as the twat had never actually told him who would be tutoring him. He felt his body freeze momentarily when his eyes locked with another pair of bright eyes and he began silently cursing Matteo. The bloody fucking bastard had jinxed him.

You sat quietly at your table in the library, waiting for the clock to slowly hit 8 as you mindlessly worked away at your essay for ancient runes. During charms today, Flitwick had noticed one of your classmates have a particularly difficult time with the lesson and asked for you to guide them in the right direction. Not one to argue with your head of house, you’d easily agreed.

As the clock struck 8, you began casting quick glances every so often at the library doors, until suddenly you were locked in the gaze of none other than Theodore Nott. Surely he wasn’t the one you would be tutoring? You didn’t know the boy particularly well, but you did know that he was a fierce competitor for top of the class in most of your other lessons. You watched silently as he made his way over to your table, offering him a small smile.

“Charms?” He asks, tossing his bag onto the table with a gentle thud.

You give him a slight nod, eyeing his tall figure as he sat lazily across from you.

“Well I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’ll be wasting your time. Never been able to cast the damn spell. Probably never will,” he says, leaning back on the chair, eyes not wavering.

You purse your lips. Looking at the handsome boy in front of you.

“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me then, won’t you?” You reply, a challenging tone apparent in your voice.

The boy smirks at this, cocking his head as if really getting a good look at you for the first time before finally replying, “I’ve never been particularly trusting.”

“Well then I guess you’ll be learning all sorts of things.”

You take your charms book out of your bag, opening it to the reading you had been assigned earlier in the week. You glance up to see Theodore mirroring your actions silently.

“A patronus, is a concentration of pure happiness and hope, derived from the recollection of a single talisman memory which is essential in its creation,” you read, the underlined section of the textbook was one you had pre-selected as it was the concept most people struggled to grasp.

Watching Theo stiffen and clench his jaw slightly, you knew you were right.

“When someone is unable to cast a patronus, I’ve found it’s usually because they haven’t figured out yet how to focus in on their talisman memory,” you continue.

“And if someone doesn’t have a talisman memory?” Theo’s voice interrupts.

You glance up at him in surprise.

“Everyone has a talisman memory. We just need to find it.”

“I don’t have one.” He insists.

“Then we’ll make one.”

The boy sighs in frustration. Fists clenching as he glares at the textbook in front of him.

“It might not be as complicated as you’re making it. I know when Flitwick was in class, he made it seem like your talisman memory had to be a big, grande gesture, or a clear moment of inexplicable joy. But I think the little moments count too. Everyone has been happy at least once,” you say, watching as Theo slowly relaxes.

“What do you think about?” He asks, before quickly back tracking “You don’t have to answer that.”

“All sorts of things really,” you reply, offering another small smile. “When I got my first wand at Ollivander’s. Honeydukes with the rest of the Ravenclaws. Playing quidditch. Specially that time we beat Gryffindor.”

Theo snorts at that, a small grin reaching his lips.

“Point is, it doesn’t matter how small the moment is, long as it made you happy.”

You’re met with silence, as Theo continues to stare down at his textbook, a look a deep contemplation on his face.

“Think that’s enough for today. Flitwick said to keep up the sessions until you’re at least able to cast an incorporeal patronus, so, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Theo nods his head, still not meeting your gaze.

“Does 6 o’clock on the lawn work?” You ask, only to be met with another nod.

Sensing the boy needed a bit of space, you quickly gathered your things before leaving the boy to his thoughts.

Step 2: Accidentally Fall In Love with Your Tutor (if you weren’t half way there already.)

You sit staring out at the vast lake in front of you, watching as the breeze pushed against the water, forming rolling waves across the surface and taking a deep breath in. You had been meeting Theodore here every day at 6 o’clock sharp for almost two whole weeks now, but you honestly weren’t sure if he’d show up today. Not that you’d blame him.

You felt as if you’d really failed him as a tutor after so many consecutive days of work, with nothing to show for it. On top of that, the two of you had gotten into a rather intense shouting match yesterday, the stress of the whole thing really getting to the both of you.

You lean back, laying down on the soft blanket below you, knees still propped up, and close your eyes, thinking back to the first time the two of you had met out in this very spot. You’d originally picked the spot, because it helped you clear your mind and you thought it might help clear Theo’s too.

That first day had been awkward. Almost painfully so. You had simply wanted to talk. Get to know the boy, pick his brain for any source of happiness or joy he might get out of life. You didn’t get much, so instead you talked about your own life. What it was like living in Ravenclaw tower, the time you and Cho had tried out together for the quidditch team. You told him how you had gone to the Yule ball with a big group of friends, and how you thought it was much better than going with some stuffy date, and how your favorite candies were the purple taffies from Honeydukes, and your favorite flowers were deadly poisonous despite their pretty and innocent appearance.

The second day, you borrowed Cho’s cat and brought her along to the meeting, thinking it might help further relax your brown haired companion. It did, so you brought her along the next day, and the day after that. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Theo broke. Sure he had told you a bit about his time at Hogwarts. Playing on Slytherin’s quidditch team. Sharing a dorm with Matteo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire. But on the fourth day, he told you about his mother. You weren’t expecting it, and it honestly had caught you wildly off guard. Theodore’s mother had been the light of his world, and after she was gone, you could understand why he thought he would never cast a patronus.

It went on like this, the two of you gradually becoming closer, as you carefully began building a sort of trust between the two of you. You thought you might even be becoming friends; which excited you as you’d never been quite able to stop your eyes from wandering over to the group of Slytherins in the back of the class, and stopping on the tall, brunette boy with pretty eyes. You tried every couple of days to cast the spell, guiding him through different memories, trying to focus in on different experiences. But still nothing. You had even tried inviting Matteo and Enzo to a session, hoping they’d help lighten his mood, but it only ended in the four of you skiving wildly off course and getting nothing done. You and Theo had laughed about it the next day, but still not even a whisp of silvery magic.

It had all come to a head yesterday. You could feel the two of you beginning to lose hope, but you were nothing if not determined. The two of you were sitting quietly, skimming the textbook for what seemed like the thousandth time, when Theo suddenly stopped and looked up at you.

“I read something the other day. Bout patronuses. And being able to cast em.”

You looked up from your reading, intrigued.

“Said that there’s a widespread, and justified, belief that witches and wizards who aren’t pure of heart can’t cast a patronus.”

Your mouth slowly formed an O shape, and the book you were holding dropped to the ground, completely forgotten.

“Theodore. You don’t honestly think. That’s ridiculous.”

“It makes sense doesn’t it? Why I can’t even cast an incorporeal charm. Why nothing we’ve tried works. There’s no point,” Theo had said, growing frustrated.

“Theodore stop. That theory is all nonsense. There isn’t even any evidence really to back it up,” you reply.

“Why else would nothing be working?” Theo asks, slamming his book on the ground.

“Theo!”

“No, y/n, honestly. What other explanation could there be. We’ve been doing this for weeks.” Theo’s voice began to rise.

“And we’ll continue until you’re able to get this.”

“What’s the bloody point? We’ve tried everything!”

“And we just need to try a bit harder!” You respond.

“You think I haven’t been trying?”

“Of course I know you’ve been trying! And I’ve been trying to do everything I can to help you succeed!”

“And everything I’ve been doing is for you! I don’t care about the bloody charm, I don’t want to disappoint you!”

Theo’s outburst had shocked you, and your breath hitched as the two of you stared at each other, Theo’s words sinking in.

Then he was kissing you. Hot lips working against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. Your fingers worked their way up to his hair, relishing in how soft his brown waves were as you tugged at them gently.

You let out a soft moan as you felt his tongue glide gently across your bottom lip before diving in at the opportunity you had provided him.

You seemed to get lost in the feeling of his soft lips and large hands around your waist holding you firmly in place. You had no idea how much time had passed by the time you were both panting for breath, foreheads resting against one another.

Seeming to really realize what he’d done, Theo looked down at you, eyes beginning to widen slightly.

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he’d said before promptly rising and hastily making his way back to the castle.

Now, your finger tips softly brushed the soft leather of Theo’s book bag that he’d abandoned yesterday in his hurry to leave. You thought that maybe, if for no other reason, he’d perhaps come to retrieve it. Not that he needed to you thought dryly, knowing that with his Gringotts account, he could’ve easily already replaced it and its contents.

Sitting up, you glance at your time piece showing a quarter after 6. With a deep sigh, you fish your transfiguration textbook out of your bag, flipping it open to begin your assigned reading. You’re only a few pages in when a twig snaps somewhere behind you. Whipping around, you see him standing there, handsome as ever, looking down at you.

“Sorry I’m late. And, sorry for yesterday,” he mumbles, dropping down to sit next to you.

You eye him warily as he refuses to make eye contact with you, eyes appearing to be glazed over as he gazes out at the lake like you had been earlier.

Slowly, and ever so carefully, you shift next to him so that your arms and legs brush softly, and you gently lean your head against his shoulder as you join him in looking out at the water. You feel him tense initially before slowly relaxing, leaning in as the two of you sat in silence.

“I won’t give up, if you don’t,” you say finally as Theo’s hand finds yours.

Step 3: Trust

It had been a week now since that day at the lake, and you weren’t quite sure where you stood anymore with Theo. You still met each other everyday by the lake, slipping easily into your usual banter. But now it was eyes meeting from across the classroom and slips of paper making their way back and forth. Your fingertips would brush softly in the hallways, and sometimes, you’d feel a hand reach out, pulling you into a hidden nook, and warm lips would meet your own. But you’d never actually, talked, about it.

You shake the thoughts out of your mind, a shiver running down your spine, as you focus in on the present. That all wasn’t the reason you once again found yourself lying out on the lawn, Theo’s head resting comfortably in your lap.

“Can you cast it?” Theo asks, looking up at you.

“Hmm?”

“Your patronus? Can you cast it? I know yours is a full, corporeal form.”

Looking down at the boy, your fingers weave slowly through his hair as you reach for your wand.

Closing your eyes and taking a breath, you focus in, memories flashing through your mind, a sense of warmth overtaking you.

“Expecto patronum.” The spell falls from your lips and you open your eyes to see a silver fox tumble out of the tip of your wand before trotting through the air around you.

You really did love the spell and it amazed and intrigued you every time. A reflection of someone’s soul, your textbook had said. It could change throughout one’s life, should they experience a shocking event, grow more mature, fall in love. The last one had always been the most curious, the idea of someone loving so much, that a piece of their soul reflected that of their loved one.

You watch as Theo’s eyes follow the the creature in awe.

“You know this is hopeless right?” Theo asks softly, your hand in his hair freezing.

“Theodore. We agreed that-“

“But really what’s the point? So I get one poor mark. When am I ever going to need to use the spell really? No point in wasting time on something that’s hopeless.”

You carefully mull over Theo’s words in your head. You supposed that realistically, he wasn’t necessarily wrong practicality wise. But if you both simply gave up, would he ever want to see you again? You knew in your core that it was selfish, but the last three weeks really had been some of the best during your time at Hogwarts. Which was saying a bit considering you’d been there for almost seven years. You supposed you’d just hoped- hoped. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. Hope. A concentration of pure happiness and hope.

“Theodore?”

“Amore?”

“When you’re thinking of your happy memory, why did you choose it?”

Theo gives you a strange look.

“Because it made me happy at the time, and the talisman memory is supposed to be a happy.”

“Good. But can you tell me why it’s so important to focus on a happy memory?”

Theo blinks.

“Because the spell says so.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Because the whole point of the charm is to create protection from the dark. Something that will keep you safe so that you can continue to feel that happiness. To give you hope.”

Theo furrows his eyebrows and frowns.

“This feels emotional.” He says, his face distorting in disgust.

“Sometimes magic is.”

Theo’s frown deepens. “It shouldn’t be. I’m perfectly content being apathetic and emotionally detached thanks.”

You let out a small snort. “Come on Theo. Try it again. But this time, think about your memory and why you want to feel that again.”

Theo’s face scrunches up in distaste before he sits up lazily, picking up his wand. You watch as he closes his eyes, pausing. His chest slowly rises then falls, once, twice.

“Expecto patronum.”

Nothing. Theo let’s put an annoyed sigh.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can try again. Think about something that you love, make sure you can picture it clearly. Something that made you so happy that you would relive it over and over.”

Theo’s eyes flick over to you, a brow raised before he closes his eyes once again. You watch him closely, perhaps too closely, as a minute passes. Then two. You’re almost worried he’s fallen asleep sitting up when the words fall from his lips.

“Expecto patronum.”

A burst of silver flashes out of his wand, and your jaw drops as your eyes follow the silver creature that had emerged, gracefully moving across the lawn.

Your eyes dart over to Theo, and you reach out to grab his arm seeing that he’d not yet opened his eyes again. When his eyes finally open once more, his gaze immediately falls on the whimsical creature, eyes widening slightly as he stares at his patronus in disbelief before looking at you with bewildered confusion.

“That’s not mine.” You tell him with a small smile, giving his arm a squeeze as you both look up at the silver fox dancing through the air.

[bluewolfangel01]

How the brothers make sure you're safe in the Devildom: Older Bros edition

Lucifer

Papa Luci mode activated

He has to know where you are or where you're going if you want to go out

It doesn't matter to him that you have 7 of the most powerful demons under your command or that you're training under humanity's most power sorcerer

You are required to have someone with you when traveling anywhere in the Devildom

If he doesn't know where you are, for some reason, he while be doing everything he can just to figure out your location

Of course he isn't going to panic just yet mind you, he'll first ask his brothers if they know where you are

Ex. he makes Levi track your phone or asks Mammon to locate you via crow familiar

If none of them know, then he's going to ask the dateables and side characters

And if they don't know?

He (and the everybody else of course) are going to tear the Devildom apart to make sure that you're okay

And if you are not? May Father have mercy on whoever dared to lay a finger on you cause Lucifer won't

If he starts getting on your nerves about always having to know a general area of where you are, don't hold it against him to much

He just doesn't want you to get hurt, cause if you were you'd have a very said and pissed off Luci on your hands

Mammon

Two words: Crow familiar

Around when you made a pact with him, he gave you a crow familiar

He claimed that it was to make sure he didn't have to deal with Lucifer's punishment if you ever died or even got hurt

Don't let him fool you, that man just wants to make sure you're safe cause he cares about you so much

He has so many crows he sadly can't keep track of ALL their names, so he let's you name yours

The crow will of course love you to bits and do things for you because of his connection to Mammon and cause you treat them so nice

Pls have some seeds on you, the crow will adore you even more if you do

Whenever your out the crow will follow and watch you from a distance or maybe even close by depending on how big the crowds are

If you're ever in trouble and can't handle it (or even if you can) the crow network is put into use to alert Mammon

The second he is told he drops whatever it is that he's doing and he's rushing to get to you no matter what

He'd take out the threat so fast, you blink and it's gone and in its place is Mammon

He's smiling at you and saying how he just so happened to be in the neighborhood

Whatever the threat was seems to have disappeared and Mammon leads you away saying how he wants to show you something he wants to buy nearby

But if you listen closely, you can hear a series of loud caws coming around the area you were just at

Simp

Levithan

Although he doesn't go out of his room much, that doesn't mean that he can't protect you from the outside

Like previously mentioned, there's a tracker on your phone (all the brothers have the same on theirs, don't feel bad)

The only reason he checks it is either because Lucifer asked him or it's been a bit since he's seen or talked to you and wants to know that you're okay

The other way he protects you is checking online and keeping a lookout for any potential threats or nefarious plans against you

He won't intervene unless said people seem to be very serious or actually putting their plan into motion

If such a plan is in motion, he warns the rest of his brothers

No matter what arises if he either ends up stopping or warning the others about there's always the same result

Anything they want online, somehow they can't find it anywhere

They want to simply look about the internet? They best be prepared for all the pop up adds and bugs imaginable

Levi is making sure they never even think about hurting you ever again

This turned out longer then I originally thought it would be.... I promise to write about the other brothers!

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Ẁ̴̧̼̟͕̱̜̞͈̩̱̤̺̖̗̌̌̓͒̓͂̇ͅò̸̟̯͂̍̀̈́̂̚ͅǘ̷̢̧͈̦͙̖̼̟̮̯̝͎̒̈́͜ͅļ̴̮̲͈̤̲̣̊̈́̎̃͆̈͆̔͆̑̇̅̋d̷̢̛͈̲̳͕̮̟͍̬͍̪͖̈̄̓̇n̵̳̫̹̥̼̄̊̽͜'̶̢̛̳̘̗͔̯̖̥̝̙̥̲͍̩̝̍̒̎̃̑̅͊̂͊͝t̷̨̧͉̫̠̻͚̣͉͖͐̊̊̀̈́ ̵̦̬̫͐͐͊͑̆̓͆̏̄͆̇́̚͘͠Y̷̨̢̡̱͚̼͚̰̠̱̤̖͍̑͊̉̽́ͅơ̶̡̦̫̬̪̯͎̹̈̍̊̇͛̅̚̚ü̷̜̞͇̳̯̯̺͎̦̠͈͕͕͎̑͒̍̌̅͛́͌̅̃̽̕͝ ̶̡̝͙̟͖̠̯̹̤͖̣̎̋̄͐̂̚͠L̸̠̞͕̳͖̥̩͙̬̰͈̱̩̳̍i̸̫͙̍́̏̎̓͊̌͑ͅk̶̩̞͈̖͔̓̏͘ẻ̶͈̱͇̪̺̬̑̈̂̑̾̐͐̿̌͜?̷̧̭̖̺̻͖̣̖̺̻͂͝

Original Post Storm

The water was slow to rise.

That didn't mean that it wasn't a threat, but it was a slow one. The rain was much worse. Burning upon contact with skin, the rain poured down on Gotham, and left Damian and Grayson isolated from the rest of the family. Civilians scattered like rats under the burning rain, hiding under awnings that were already starting to dissolve and in buildings if they were lucky.

Grayson had taken the initiative to steal a few umbrellas that they used to jump from roof overhang to overhang, the flimsy fabric barely protecting them in the moments under open sky.

Damian tried both his coms again, then his phone. Only static remained. "There's still no signal. Richard, we need to hurry back to the Manor; if Father is in danger--"

"We wouldn't be able to make it," Grayson said, eyeing the streets. Lazarus water bubbled from the storm drains, flooding the roads. They hurried on. "Our tires would melt before we could get halfway to Bristole. There's a safehouse nearby where we can regroup--"

"Richard!" It was hard to see through the glowing rain, but just beyond the building they were hiding under was- "There's a break in the rain in Robinson Park." While the flood was lapping at the grass, not a speck of water fell over the park.

Richard frowned. "That's suspicious."

Damian and Richard, speckled with burns, made their way through the eerie silence that had settled over Robinson Park. Not a sound could be heard inside the park, like the world had gone silent. No other people had made it here yet, and there were no animals around, Damian noticed with a pang of guilt.

Then... a laugh.

His hands quickly found the knives tucked away on his body. "Who's there!?" Damian demanded despite Richard's protests that it could be a civilian. It laughed again with that same distorted quality that Danyal's voice gained in the Pit. "Show yourself."

"I must say! I didn't think you'd make it this far." Behind them floated... a woman. A girl, younger than Damian, yet she looked just like the monster pretending to be Danyal. She smirked. "You're very stubborn."

"Who are you?" Why does she look like-

"Just a friend!" She quickly reassured. "You could say I'm... invested in the continued survival of Gotham."

"So, you know what's happening?"

"I know what's happening, why it's happening, and what you can do to stop it." She floated onto her back, the picture of faked relaxation. "Though, at the moment, I'm not particularly inclined to spill. Sorry."

Damian's grip tightened on his knives. "If you know how to stop this, then tell us," he demanded, his voice laced with frustration and urgency.

The girl—this eerie mimic of Danyal—rolled her eyes playfully, kicking her feet as she floated in the air. "Impatient, aren't we? But where’s the fun in just handing over all the answers? You’re on the right track, though. Keep going, and maybe you’ll figure it out."

"Enough games!" Richard snapped, stepping forward, his fists clenched. "This city is drowning—people are going to die! If you can help, then help us!"

The girl’s smile didn’t waver, but something in her eyes hardened. "Oh, I am helping. You just don’t realize it yet." She flipped upright, hovering just above the ground now, her gaze locking onto Damian's. "You see, big brother, this isn’t just about you or me. This is about Danyal—he’s lost, confused. And unless you do something, he’ll destroy everything."

Damian stiffened at the word "brother," his mind racing. "You’re lying. Danyal is—"

"More than the Danyal you knew," she finished for him, her voice softening with something like sympathy. "He’s changed. Did your mummy ever tell you that she put him in the Lazarus Pit your grandfather has?" Damian could feel Richard's questioning gaze. "No, she probably didn't. Not after he never resurfaced."

"Then... that's the real Danyal?" Damian asked quietly.

She shrugged. "As real as he can be. But he's not the one you knew. Older. Younger. The Pit did something to him, something that made him… different. More powerful, more dangerous."

Richard exchanged a wary glance with Damian. "If that’s true, then why are you here? What do you want from us?"

The girl chuckled, floating closer. "I’m here to make sure you survive this. After all, if you die too soon, the story ends, and we can’t have that, can we?" She circled around them, her movements languid, almost lazy. "The city will return to normal once Danyal gets what he wants. And what he wants, dear friend, is you." She reached out to poke his nose, but Damian slapped her hand away.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. "Why are you helping us? What do you gain?"

She paused, considering the question, before shrugging lightly. "Let’s just say I have a vested interest in keeping the balance. I’m not your enemy, Damian. I’m just… an observer. A guide, if you will."

The rain continued to pour just beyond the borders of the park, the glowing drops hissing as they hit the ground. Damian could feel the heat from the Lazarus Waters creeping closer, the edge of the park growing dim and distorted.

"You said you know how to stop this," Damian pressed. "What do we need to do?"

The girl smiled, a wicked gleam in her eye. "First, you’ll need to survive. The Lazarus Waters will burn you alive if you don’t take precautions. Deeper in the park, you’ll find Blood Blossoms. They are an extinct plant that has power over the undead... and will prevent the water from hurting you. Eat them—they’ll protect you from the worst of it."

Richard frowned. "Why should we trust you."

She shrugged again. "Trust me, mistrust me. It's up to you. But the longer you stand here arguing, the closer those waters get, and the sooner you’ll be dead." She pointed toward the heart of the park. "The Blood Blossoms grow there. Hurry, before it’s too late."

Damian hesitated; all of his training screamed at him not to trust her. But she was right. They really didn't have a choice. With a curt nod to Richard, they turned and sprinted deeper into the park, the eerie silence swallowing their footsteps.

As they disappeared into the shadows, the girl—Dani—hovered in place, watching them go. Her playful demeanor faded, replaced by something darker, more serious.

"Danny," she whispered to herself, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I hope you know what you're doing, Damian Al Ghul. I hope you know what you need to do to save him."

With a final glance at the retreating figures, she dissolved into the night, her form flickering out of existence as the rain continued to pour down on the drowning city.

[infimace-blog]

Thinking about rap as a technical artform and rap as a cultural artform, with respect to Tumblr's incompetence at dealing with either. Tumblr can just barely grasp the former because, like all forms of Black music, it's been repackaged in various ways that are more palatable to to white audiences. I talked last month about how what Tumblr was calling rap while trying to defend its taste in music is more akin to filk songs, but I should admit, sometimes Tumblr cites people who actually rap. It doesn't fix the problem or absolve them of their bullshit, but it is true.

The failure then becomes an inability to recognize or care about how rap functions culturally.

People on Tumblr will take Dungeon Meshi and intricately pick apart how a single chapter connects back to real-world neurodivergence issues and the cultural differences between the West and the East when it comes to handling them, and then look at any given rap song and assume it's skin-deep. Unless it's Hamilton back in the late 2010s, before we all decided it was cringe, in which case they'll gladly dig into the history of the early USA and, like the play itself, sidestep the racism whenever possible.

Take Weird Al, one of the many names that's been thrown around in Kendrick and Drake's wake. Weird Al is technically a rapper. He has done rap. We cannot ignore that as a factual statement. He's not even that bad as a rapper. But he has no engagement with rap as a cultural object; he engages with the artform as a parodist. "Amish Paradise", probably Weird Al's most popular rap parody, doesn't say anything; it's here to riff on a religious minority. But you dig into it just a little and you can see the kind of complexity that Tumblr usually loves to talk about. The song is, after all, a parody of Coolio's Grammy-winning "Gangster's Paradise", which is literally about being a black man in an environment dominated by organized crime and fearing the constant threat of death in that life, but was also created specifically for the movie Dangerous Minds, a middling white savior movie about Michelle Pfeiffer teaching a bunch of bad stereotypes of what people think inner city non-white students are. A movie that was, in turn, based on a white woman's memoirs about teaching in a bad school near San Francisco. You've got this interplay between a white woman's real-life efforts to teach her black and Latino students (I can't speak to how effective she was, mind you), a fictionalized version of that same woman being shown as the sole guiding light for her underdeveloped gangbanging students - and a white actress's crappy Kipling-ass 5/10 film getting Coolio his Grammy. It was tailor-made to be Coolio's big hit with white audiences, getting the push of Michelle Pfeiffer, having slow and deliberate rapping, and lacking the swearing in most of Coolio's oeuvre (Stevie Wonder mandated no swearing in return for letting Coolio sample his music). And, though I suspect this was unintentional, the song plays into the same narrative that the movie does, how this rapper is doomed to his life because "nobody's there to teach [him]", with dramatic choir and strings underscoring the dire fate that awaits this rapper if some charitable white person doesn't help him - the same dramatic choir and strings that Weird Al uses for comedic effect by comparing it to Amish farmwork.

I put that last paragraph together with two or three hours of Wikipedia, and you can do the same kind of analysis with a lot of hit rap songs (and Genius is right there if you need a helping hand - I wouldn't have understood much of Kendrick's Euphoria without it), and I think this drives a lot of my frustration? Tumblr loves to see something cool and then take a few days to write an in-depth post about how cool it is under the surface. So the lack of this when it comes to rap does show a deep disinterest in thinking about it when it isn't fun. And there's so much cool shit to learn about rap. Did you know that Baby Got Back was inspired by the anti-black fatphobia Sir Mixalot's model girlfriend was dealing with in her industry, and was pushing back against the media's general preference for skinny white women? Did you know that there's a Turkish hip-hop scene specifically in Germany because, as a minority that was brought to the country for cheap labor and then forced to exist as second-class citizens, they ended up relating a lot to the music? Just. Dig a bit. There's so much.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Final Girl.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.

The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.

‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—

And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”

His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.

He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”

“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”

He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”

“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”

He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”

As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.

You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”

“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”

“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”

The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—

Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.

There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”

There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.

“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”

[chowadoe]

so more on that role reversal au...

Shadow (created as a Weapon Against Humanity) who was eventually raised, and exploited, by G.U.N to become Humanity's Ultimate weapon and Sonic, found by Robotnik

some more expanded thoughts below ^_^

SHADOW - G.U.N AGENT

Shadow was initially created with the intention of being a Weapon Against Humanity. after a life-altering incident, G.U.N. takes Shadow into their custody, raising him to become one of their top agents, exploiting him.

he's constantly under government surveillance... inhibitor rings (developed by G.U.N.) are clamped onto him like a shock collar so he is unable to tap into his full power. (Shadow has neither tested nor does he know the extent of his strength.. he has never tried removing them. G.U.N. is the only one who can remove them.)

the hypocritical method in wanting their weapon (cough trained dog) to exercise and develop restraint on his own terms, and yet forcefully acclimating him.

Shadow’s aware of his past. Definitely struggles with Existential dread about why he’s on Earth and what he was made for. he wants to (and feels like he should) do good, but if he was initially made with destructive intent… is he compensating this way? is this what he really wants? no.. he shouldn't think like that.. Maria would want him to be good..

If not to make the world the better a place, if they still treat his kind as inferior and sometimes, even a threat to the whole human race, does humanity and this planet still deserve its rite for redemption? What is humanity? Is that something he’s capable of, as a weapon of mass destruction?

what is he trying to prove here? His docility? His ability to be obedient and be, by human standards, good? what does that mean in a world that may never accept them, and much less him- a synthetic and all-unnatural organism forged from humanity’s worst and an alien race only capable of Evil and wrongdoing. a being so perfectly suited for any and all forms of persecution. Humankind’s scapegoat. He thinks about Maria.

Maria remains a guiding light. Back then, she would sneak Shadow out to gaze upon the Earth, her former home. She misses it, the lush greenery, the sun, the people. she hopes that Shadow will get to experience what it’s like.

au shadow is emo edgy in a sad wet adult 40yo cat leon kennedy kind of way. au sonic is emo edgy like a 14yo that found out you could buy a tattoo gun on amazon without a license. I know nothing about resident evil

when he's not on a mission, he's usually in his "room" (extremely generous word for containment chamber/training facility.) he's like a hamster in a cage with toys to play with . (treadmills. race tracks. dummy robots. Ak-47s.) He's allowed to freely roam HQ from hours 6am-10pm, and if not, he is usually escorted by a guard, unless its Rouge sneaking him out. But beyond that, it's not like the ultimate lifeform needs that much sleep, and it'd be bad to have their ultimate weapon roaming the halls without supervision. but let's say there's the occasional nocturnal scavenger providing him a bit of nightly mischief that even the most complicated most difficult to navigate ventilation system cannot keep a natural-born burrower out..... (haha)

SONIC - ACCOMPLICE

Robotnik’s “accomplice” (adoptive son?)

Sonic goes along with Robotnik’s schemes but has his own ulterior motives .. after all, working under someone is still infringing on his sense of freedom, independence, and pride.

He only rlly helps out Robotnik out if it helps him… robotnik makes some new tech that tickles his , esp if smth that happens to enhance his existing abilities. sure he’s more than capable of doing things on his own but what’s better than to play with his new toys with his already existing toys (GUN. shadow.)

and if he manages to break them in a day then he’s found an issue that robotnik needs to troubleshoot immediately. eggman should really be Thanking him!

his only known goal atm is to find things that stave off his boredom. from what Shadow's gathered at least. but maybe there's more...

has a very bad No Good Fixation on shadow's inhibitor rings for whatever reason. wonder that could mean.

Still fucking around with roles and nothing's rlly set in stone. Im just kind of giggling kicking rocks and throwing pebbles in the water to see what lands ^q^

Rouge is still there! A contractor for G.U.N. A Recovering/reformed Jewel thief who joins the task force (maybe?) 

the gang is also there! still brainstorming roles though. emrmmm

[meanbossart]

ooh here’s a question. so companions can leave your party forever if their approval drops too low; you get two warnings and then they leave. the leaving dialogue is also different based on if you romanced them or not. (it’s pretty hard to get this in normal gameplay unless you attack and kill them over and over again lol)

so my question is what would DU drow’s low approval leaving dialogue be? and if you haven’t said this before, are there any other conditions under which he’d leave the party forever?

[Companion] first warning: "I'd like to heed you a quick word of warning - Not a threat, just a warning. You are starting to get on my nerves. Shape up. And do it quickly. Or I might just do something about it." [Lover] first warning: "You've had a penchant for pushing my boundaries lately, haven't you? I admire the gall, but I don't appreciate it. Shape up. Quickly. Or I might just do something about it."

[Companion & Lover] second warning: "Do you forget our little talk from last time, or do you just wish to see what happens? Well, I'll have you know that you are well on your way to finding out. Please, don't make me do something I might regret."

[Companion] attack dialogue: "You've made yourself clear in your intentions - You don't plan on seeing this through with me, do you? I'll be taking that prism now, as well as your life. It didn't have to come to this, you know?" [Lover] attack dialogue: "I am so sick of this. It's not worth it. Not worth it at all - and that's fine! I've never cared much for you, anyway, and it will make what comes next much easier to carry out. I'll be taking that prism now, as well as your life. It didn't have to come to this, you know?"

Listen, it's The Dark Urge. He ain't leaving just to die as soon as he's outside the mile radius of the artifact LOL

Likewise, I can't think of a single event that would prompt him to leave. I think it's more than appropriate that the only way you can get rid of this guy is by killing him.

However, if you kill Orin without him (leaving him at camp), basically dooming him to succumb to his urges without ever knowing if he could have been rid of them (or, alternatively, robbing him from the opportunity of proving himself as Bhaal's chosen) he will betray you at the end of the game and take over the brain (he just appears even if you leave him at camp too so there's no getting away from it).