#and if she happened to use this to her advantage

[kidvoodoo]

Jeest Mafia AU, snippet under the cut 💚💙

Joost tried not to make eye contact with anyone at the airport, though the stares he received at his battered face were inevitable. How many tall, blond, bandaged, bruised and bloody men were in a hurried rush to the terminal? Odds say: not many.

‘Not that I should be thinking about odds right now’ chided his conscience, ‘that’s how I got into this mess in the first place…’

His pace didn’t falter despite the looks from the other passengers lining up in their respective lines. All of them with bags and luggage alike underarm or trailing behind them, his own, suspiciously absent.

No time to pack, clothes on his back, phone, wallet and a little vial of two small white pills. Security checkpoint nearly put an end to those, but a desperate, puppy-eyed look and his disheveled state made the officer roll her eyes and wave him through, for all she knew, or anyone knew, it was aspirin.

‘Fix more than a headache’ his inner thoughts sneered, ‘steady on Joost, for emergencies only’.

He kept his eyes on the gate numbers, briefly glancing at the destinations. Cabo, Shanghai, Johannesburg, each a far flung place he could have potentially laid low in for months, relax on some resort beach or in a high class penthouse…

But that’s not where he’s headed.

He spies the glowing gate number, the destination? Helsinki, Finland. He got the ticket the same day he got the phone call telling him to leave as fast as possible, his usually calm and monotone source had an edge of panic to their voice, Joost trashed the burner after that and shredded the last of his books and burned them. He left his apartment as the ashes were still smoldering.

Finland eh? The only clue of what was happening next was the note in the ticket envelope, hurried scrawling in broken Dutch gave him simple instructions:

Taxi to the airport, pay in cash. Get on the plane. Make sure you are in the camera view the whole time, locate the Air Marshal and watch him. Once you are off the plane, head to the pick up zone in the parking lot and look for the black limo. Tap on the driver’s side window and give the password.

“Here for Tommy’s boy” he mutters under his breath. The magic words that’ll guarantee his safety and freedom, or will land him a bullet between the brows…

Better than the alternative.

He’s on time for the early boarding and hands the Steward his ticket, eyeing the Air Marshal at the doors to the plane’s walkway. He’s given a smile and some well wishes for his flight and finally, for the first time in several days, he feels a little sliver of calm wash over him.

‘Can’t cut me up on the plane you fuckers’

He finds his seat, window view and close to the front of the plane and plops down, the ache in his joints and back starting to flare up since the adrenaline begins to wear off.

Finland…he’s uncertain exactly what is waiting for him there, he regrets not grabbing a translation booklet at the terminal kiosk but there was simply no time. His new phone is IP hidden for the time being till he can get a VPN to bounce his signal, so no using Google’s underwhelming translation system…

He thinks back to a conversation he overheard at a conference last year. The big guys were all there, each of them with a meaty bodyguard in tow and a pistol or two brandished in plain sight.

He was there on happenstance, just finishing up the numbers to hand to his boss for the last fiscal year when his curiosity got the best of him.

“Baltic’s are at it again,” his boss sneers, tapping his cigar onto the floor, “think they’ll hide behind the Nordic cunts so they don’t have to play anymore”.

“Hm.” Another well dressed older man hums in response. He’s the police liaison, a former Captain who’s been working with the mob for 40 years. “Not much to be done about it Albert, the Fins have the advantage now, I hear they’ve even brought Estonia into the fold now.”

Albert snorts, getting to his feet and giving a couple other well-dressed people a farewell wave.

“Cuz of that little shit,” he grumbles, motioning his bodyguard to get a move on. “What’s his name? Kät-something? The Union fucker.”

“Käärijä,” the former Police Captain supplies, “his Union is very bold for an upstart, cutting off the trade in the Baltic’s disrupts everything. Heard he’s in talks of making a deal with the Norwegians as well. That’s the case? Say goodbye to the big money”.

Joost tried to linger as long as possible to catch the last bit of conversation, tucking himself against the wall and listening close.

“Damn idiot, Norway doesn’t play with the new players, even if the young lady is supposedly running things over there now. He’s a fucking lunatic to think the Baltic’s will stay loyal, he’ll be done by the end of the year, mark my words-“

A dinging noise jolts him awake from his daze, the Flight Attendants are doing their safety check. The doors to the plane are closed and for the first time in weeks, months even, Joost’s tense shoulders drop with exhaustion.

He is safe. For now.

<><><>

Roughly three hours later, he startles awake.

The voice over the intercom of the plane cabin announces in several languages that they have arrived at Helsinki Airport and will begin the landing process momentarily.

He spares a glance around the cabin out of paranoia, nothing out of the ordinary and no unwanted eyes in his direction.

Twenty minutes later and he’s heading out of the plane and into the airport terminal. The weather outside is gray and snowy, the sky a mass of colorless clouds and the sun choked somewhere behind. He shivers just looking at the weather, his cheap suit jacket will definitely not suffice.

He heads down the walkways and tried not to get too overwhelmed with the directions, mostly in Finnish but thankfully also in English.

He’s only a hundred feet from the parking lot when he feels eyes on his back. He tries subtly to peak behind and catch if he’s being followed.

Two men, both in dark blue suits and expensive leather shoes, each sporting a grim, intense expression. They have their hands in their pockets.

Joost picks up his pace, eyes focused on the automatic doors that swing open and shut.

He can hear them closing behind him, their shoes loud against the tiles. He starts to jog.

He doesn’t stop to apologize to the people he pushes past to get out of the door, ignoring the scowls and curses thrown his way. His heart is hammering in his chest, he has but a minute to locate the car before he’s dragged off and butchered in a dark corner…

A car horn blares loudly as he flinches and freezes, he had walked right out in front of a pair of high beams, his eyes don’t have time to adjust as he hurriedly runs around to look.

Black limousine, tinted windows with triple thick bulletproof glass and chrome trimming. The driver’s side window rolls down, a bald man with sunglasses and a mustache regards him blankly.

“P-please,” he stammers, eyes catching the two suited men finally breaching the threshold. “I-I’m being followed-“

“What is phrase?” The driver interrupts, not at all phased by the situation in the slightest.

“Th-the wha-oh yes yes, it’s uh…” he swallows takes a breath and speaks the words softly enough for the man to hear him.

“I’m here for Tommy’s boy.”

The door at the back of the limo clicks open, beckoning him inside.

He all but dives into the car and slams the door shut just as the two men make a dash towards the vehicle, only to stop dead in their tracks mere feet away.

Joost doesn’t have the time to take in his surroundings as he sees what has halted his stalkers. In the split second before the limo peels out with a loud screeching of tires, the window on the opposite side is down just enough to see the startled and blanched faces of the two men, who find themselves held in place by a man aiming a 45 caliber handgun at them.

Were it to fire at point blank range, one of the two men would have nearly had his torso blown open. More than a lethal shot, truly overkill at that point.

The car peels out of the lot and before he knows it, Joost is tossed back into he seat as the limo put some speedy distance between him and the danger.

A loud curse and sound of a window being rolled up. Joost finally levels his eyes behind his cracked glasses to see his savior.

Sitting across from him now with the gun held loosely in his grip is a dark haired man with pale skin. He sports a blunted bowl cut and his facial hair is trimmed and tidy. He wears a long black coat with a layered polo necked jumper and a couple silver chains around his neck. The jewelry matches his pierced ears and nose rings, the whole of his attire is expensive and modern looking.

Joost is drawn into the man’s piercing eyes, blue like his own but with an edge of silver steel, made more intimidating and entrancing by the heavy makeup that lines them.

The man is staring at him, Joost’s palms immediately start to sweat.

“I uh,”

“You are the Dutchman we take in?” The man interrupts, his voice has an hint of annoyance, Joost nods politely and holds out his hand to shake.

“Yes, I mean to say, thank you,” he tries to muster a charming smile but finds himself pinned under the man’s gaze like a deer being watched through a hunter’s scope.

“I’m sure this is a bit of trouble for you-“

“Trouble? I say it is bigger trouble for you and not me. You need a drink yes? I have gin and brandy here.” The man all but ignores whatever Joost was trying to say and busies himself with pouring a drink from a side bar containing glasses and some bottles. “Brandy since the gin is warm, I not have a lot of time to get it ready.”

Joost wants to say something, anything to this stranger but finds himself at an utter loss for words. The man looks at him expectantly, pushing the glass of amber liquor into his hands.

“There you drink that, feel better afterwards. You say you looking for Tommy’s boy? That is what he tell you to say? He think he is funny man, he gonna have to explain to me…” the man trails off, eyes now scanning and taking in Joost’s disheveled appearance. “You have injury? I have some bandage here and some other things uh,” the man stops and searches for a word. “you know, doctor supplies?”

“First aid kit?” Joost supplies.

“Ah yes yes! That is it,” the man grins and digs around a bit before huffing in annoyance and opening the little sliding window to the driver’s compartment. He asks for something in Finnish and the bald man replies. Information gathered, he opens a compartment and fishes out a nondescript black case.

“Okei here it is. Let me see your hand, you have blood on your palm.” He does? Joost was in such a mad dash to get away from the goons who had jumped him back in the Netherlands he didn’t have time to take stock of his injuries. He holds out his hand timidly and the man yanks it none too gently to inspect.

“No stitches I think,” he hums, grabbing supplies to clean and patch the gash on Joost’s palm.

The man’s grip is firm and steady, there is warm radiating from beneath the leather gloves he wears.

“You are Mr. Klein eh?” The man says absentmindedly as he cleans the wound. “I hear you screw your boss out two million euros, not bad.” The man smirks, eyes flickering up to Joost’s face. “I like someone who disrupts the status quo. When Tommy say you in trouble, I had to do something about it. Would be a waste for you ending up in concrete.”

Joost cringes a little at the mention of his dilemma, taking a long gulp of his drink and reveling in the burn.

“I don’t know about disruption, I just did what I thought was right is all. Didn’t think it would go this far…” he wishes he could be more proud, he did take a chunk of money from the hands of the worst men in Europe. Now, he’s a marked man, possibly forever.

The dark haired man seems to sense his discomfort and finishes dressing his hand, grabbing a gauze patch and passing it over.

“What is done is done, you think it is bad thing now, but you make a big move, and now you have a big advantage for the war that is coming.”

Joost finishes placing the gauze over the gash on his cheek, looking at the man puzzlingly.

“What war? And what advantage are you talking about?”

The man leans back against his seat and smiles, his sharp canines peak over his lips and his expression is one of amusement and vicious excitement.

“The war between the Union and the Old Men, tear down their ruined kingdom and make our own. The advantage? That’s easy,”

The man chuckles darkly.

“You have Käärijä in your corner now.”

#my art #kidvoodoo #my writing #jeest #jeest infection #käärijä #jere pöyhönen #joost klein #mafia au #so I guess I’m doing this now 🙃 #I can’t make any promises on this story I’m afraid #I don’t feel confident in my writing but I’m trying my best lol #also this is fiction it is not real and I don’t wanna hear anything from people like #if you don’t like it don’t read it #it’s a silly little story about some silly guys who will probably kiss and stuff #also Jere’s boyfriend Pokédex will make an appearance plus many more cameos hehe #it will primarily be jeest infection though

[dilatorywriting]

Truth Potion

Vil Schoenheit x OC x Rook Hunt Word Count: 9.7k

Summary: Truth Potions should be banned from the proximity of any and all far-too-attractive people for all time. Least of all when dating one of them who would be far to keen to use said lack-of-filter to his advantage.

[OC Archive]

🌶️🌶️🌶️ WARNING for Spicy Content! WARNING for References to a Character's Previous Death

READ WHAT YOU LIKE, BUT BE MINDFUL OF WHAT YOU READ

The potion exploding in her face was nothing unusual. Saya had been cursed with cat ears, and fluffy tails, and all sorts of strange ailments at this point. It was like there was a target on her back that the universe had put there saying ‘hey! You! Don’t let this poor idiot escape a single potions lesson unscathed!’

What wasn’t familiar was the strange, staticky lull all throughout her mouth. Making her tongue feel light as a feather.

“That didn’t taste very bad,” she mumbled to herself, and then wondered why she’d muttered anything at all. “But I guess a lot of things don’t taste as bad as I was expecting them to.”

“Oh?” Deuce coughed, good-natured despite his own singed eyebrows. “Like what?”

She shrugged. “Cum.”

And then immediately screamed into her hands like she was being murdered point blank. She gasped against her palms in horror. Because she did not just say that. Out loud. In public.

“I didn’t mean to say that!” she wailed. “I haven’t even told Vil that! And he’s the one who’d actually want to know!”

She clamped her fingers over her mouth again and screamed louder.

“Oh my god,” Ace chirped, like this was the greatest gift God could have ever gifted him and all of mankind. “You got truth dosed.”

Ro blinked in worry from his place at the desk nearby. “Is she going to be alright?”

“No!” Saya wailed.

“Quick!” Ace beamed, dashing forward like a hound after a hare. “Ask her everything you’ve always wanted to know! Before it wears off!”

“Or before she kills us,” Jack scowled under his breath.

“I would never kill you,” Saya said, serious. “I don’t think I could. You’re too beefy. But you’re too nice too. The best. Right behind Deuce.”

“Oh,” Jack rumbled, gold eyes going wide and then quickly shooting away.

“This seems a bit like we’re taking advantage…” Robyn mumbled, looking guilty.

“Thank you,” Saya huffed. “Because—”

“Do you like me, yes or no?” the redhead blurted as fast as he could, and then immediately looked terribly chagrinned about it.

“If anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself. You’re my best friend in the whole world and I wish you were actually my brother so I could finally have something good in my stupid genetic pool.” The words tumbled out like the shrapnel from a bomb—wild, and uncontrolled, and loud. Saya squawked in indignation. “Robyn Starling!”

“Sorry! Sorry! I just—I needed to know!”

“Fuck you!”

“Out of everyone in this room, who would you wanna fuck the most?” Ace piped in, like a rabid little demon.

“Jamil!” Saya blurted, and immediately covered her mouth in horror. Said Vice-Warden’s head popped up from his place hovering over his own cauldron, and he immediately looked like he wanted to melt into the floor and disappear from their entire plane of existence. But then, like some kind of absolutely malicious trick of fate, the words just kept coming. “Or Professor Crewel.”

“Someone go get Schoenheit,” the man in question groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Quickly.”

.

.

“A truth potion?” Vil muttered, rubbing his thumbs along a dot of blue smeared high along her cheekbone. “That’s all?”

“That I can tell,” Professor Crewel sighed.

“This is the worst day of my life,” Saya grouched, and then seemed to reconsider. “Actually, that was probably when I killed myself the first time around. But this is pretty up there.” Another pause. “Worst day of my life so far.”

Vil fought the urge to dig his fingers into his temples. He could already feel the stress headache forming. The last thing he needed was the add new wrinkles on top of that.

“How long until it wears off?”

“Hopefully no more than a day,” Crewel hummed, considering. “Perhaps sooner, if you can get her cleaned up quickly enough.”

“He can never clean me quick enough,” Saya complained past the shield of her fingers. “He always ends up fucking me in the bath, which is entirely counterproductive. Especially when he’s the one complaining about tight schedules. Like, sir, it’s your own fault you’re late. You didn’t have to spend half an hour with your tongue up my—”

Vil clamped a hand over her mouth and Saya looked grateful beyond measure.

“Please just get her out of public,” Crewel sighed, looking like he’d aged ten years over the course of the afternoon. “Before I have an aneurism.”

Saya said something else against Vil’s palm, but thankfully it came out too garbled and flat to comprehend.

“Of course, sir.”

The House Warden dragged his miserable, red-faced girlfriend out the office doors and down a back hallway—determined to skulk away to Pomefiore as stealthily as he could possibly manage.  

“God, what I wouldn’t give to be in the center of a Schoenheit-Crewel sandwich,” she sighed once his palm was off her lips, and then immediately paled from head to toe, like a ghost. “I might actually kill myself again.”

“Do not even joke about that,” he snapped.

“Can it be a joke if I’m under a truth spell?”

“You know,” Vil smiled, poisonously poised and vicious, “Perhaps I should go back and let you make your offer in person, hmm? I’m on decent enough terms with the Professor. Perhaps we can make an arrangement, if you’re being so truthful in the moment.”

Saya tucked both hands over her mouth and allowed herself to be herded back towards the elaborate, Pomefiore dorms in silence.

.

.

The bath that followed was entirely unsexy, and Saya nearly bit through her bottom lip in an effort to keep her bubbling complaints under wraps. Vil practically dunked her like a rag against a washboard, and she couldn’t help but think that he always got a bit like this—a bit too upset, a bit too mean—whenever her untimely demise was brought up all over again. Which, on one hand, she couldn’t blame him. Whenever Robyn talked about his own death, it made her stomach fall and her hair stand on end. And if Vil had done what she had—Well. She’d be upset too. So she sat politely and quietly in her towel until the stupid potion got the better of her. 

“I just don’t get it,” she said into his glacial sneer. “It’s not like it matters.”

“The fact that we’re having this argument yet again when you can’t even physically lie about it tells me you need more therapy than there exists on this godforsaken planet.”

“I am a little broken,” she shrugged, and something in the model’s amethyst eyes went so terribly sad. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, I meant it. But I shouldn’t have said it. I don’t like upsetting you.”

Vil sighed and reached out to dry her hair, gentler now. Scrubbing the soft towel over her short, blonde, waves in little circles.

“I know,” he said. “And I’ll reward your valiant efforts by not pushing all of the things I would so love to use this opportunity to push.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she hummed, leaning into his kneading. “Not if it’s you. Not really, at least. Even if it is embarrassing.” She paused, and he watched her try to physically swallow down the words in her mouth before they came tumbling out anyways. “Your cum tastes good, by the way. Well, not good. Not like, I don’t know, candy or whatever. But like, not bad at all. I thought you should know. Because I said it earlier, but you weren’t around. And now you are. And now I also need to throw myself out the nearest window.”

The startled laugh that ripped out of his throat was entirely less dignified than he would have liked.

“Is that so?” he trilled, beyond amused. “I suppose I’m glad my healthy diet has been useful for… other unexpected benefits, as well.”

Her face screwed up like he’d forced her to drink rotten milk and he couldn’t help himself from feeling hopelessly fond at this miserable, sopping wet, little wreck of a person.  

“Anything else you’d like to confess?” he grinned. “While I have your full attention?”

More nose scrunching. “What do you want to know?”

It sounded like the question had to be pried out of her mouth with pliers. Vil’s smile went a little wicked. He dropped the towel to his bedroom floor so that he could dig his fingers into her damp hair.  

“What’s your favorite part? Of all the things I’ve done to you?”

“That you’ve loved me,” she said instantly, and that teasing mew melted off his face in a heartbeat. Saya looked positively stricken. “Oh my god, please. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,” he chirped, mocking, and she made a gagging noise. “But as touched as I am by your sentimentality, I had meant on the more physical side of things. It’s so hard to get your honest feedback.”

“I thought you liked that,” she said, a bit mulish. “The whole ‘stubborn’ thing. Having to pin me down.”

Saya watched the round, black circles of his pupils jump and dilate. The twist of his mouth went smug and warm—familiar. In all the best and worst possible ways. 

“Is that why you do it?” he cooed, a dangerous lilt to his voice that had goosebumps dancing down her spine.

“Not completely,” she mumbled, gaze slipping away and cheeks going pink. “I think some of it is just—just me, too,” she gulped as his nose trailed down her neck. “That’s really distracting.”

“Is it?” he drawled.

“I just said it was!”

“You’re so lovely to me, do you know? Working so hard to try and meet my tastes,” he said against her collarbone, and she shivered. “What else could I do for you, I wonder?”

“You do more than enough.”

Vil couldn’t help but feel flattered at the ringing truth in that proclamation, but he pushed forward nonetheless. This was a golden opportunity not to be diminished—not even by the charming warmth of their sentimentality.

“But I could always do more. Tell me—I’m always open with the things I’d like to do to you. What’s something that you’ve always wanted to try.”

“DP,” she burst out, and then immediately ducked her head to shriek against his shoulder. “Oh my god, please forget I just said that. Well, don’t forget it. Because it would be—really, really—I just. Oh my god!”

“You weren’t kidding then,” he tutted, warm and calm, dragging a soothing palm against her lower back, “when you mentioned the professor and I earlier.”

“I mean, only a little. I’d never be able to look Crewel in the eye again. It wouldn’t be worth it. Especially when I think he’s just starting to like me.”

Vil huffed. “He adores you.”

“Yeah, more like he’d like to hit me with a-door.”

“I can see this isn’t the time to address your self-worth issues,” he droned, and then worked to shift back into the direction he’d been so carefully coaxing. “But either way. You were saying? Something about being taken by—"

“I know it’s not practical!” she immediately squeaked. “Like, I am fully aware you only have one dick. And also, like, I love you. I don’t have any desire to like, go around fucking some other random person just to, I don’t know, satisfy some weird fantasy. Everyone has their like, Thing that they’re like ‘wow. That’d be super hot. Will never happen. But damn.’ And that’s just—I don’t know. Mine.” A pause, to take her breath. “Also, like, it takes two to tango. Or, well, three in this case. And I’m still reeling over the fact that I’ve managed to trick one person into sleeping with me, let alone two.” 

Vil couldn’t hold back his snort. “I’m certain you could find more than double that on this campus alone who would be more than willing to step in to fill the role at a moment’s notice.”

She crinkled her nose. “Even if that was true, I still love you most. I don’t want other people.”

“And if I found someone suitable to partake in this? Someone who has perhaps displayed a keen interest in the past and who I trust enough to involve? Someone who’s already proven more than enthusiastic about the topic?” Vil asked, and he watched her eyebrows jump up in startled confusion. “Would that be amenable then? If you had that on top of my fullhearted approval and support?”

Her brow furrowed, clearly taken aback. “Who the fuck are you talking to about screwing me?”

Vil snorted another laugh.

“My, you’re feeling crude today.”

“It’s this stupid potion and you know it!” He watched that tight little tick in her brow grow deeper as she dove into the depths of her thoughts, searching and searching for an answer he was sure she’d find. All of a sudden she choked. “Are you talking about Rook?”

“I knew you’d get there eventually, kitten.”

“But he—” she gaped. “He doesn’t—I haven’t—” she spluttered. “He doesn’t even like me. I bet he’d hang my head over his fireplace if he got the chance.”

Vil barked out a laugh. “That would certainly be the highest of compliments.”

At her continued fretting, he leaned closer to tug her in tight and go back to running his fingers up and down her spine. “Naturally it’s your choice, but I can assure you, I’ve heard more than my fair share of soliloquies about the wonders of your bountiful bosom to know he’d be more than thrilled to assist.”

“They’re not even that big,” she grouched under her breath. “But that’s… Even if he was okay with it, what about you?” she asked, nervous.

Vil grinned, sharp and seductive. “Darling, who hasn’t shared something so private with their closest friend, hmm?”

“Uhm, me?” she gaped. “If you ever catch me in a three-way with Ro, please just shoot me in the face—"

“You’re moving away from the point,” he accused, snagging her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Now. Tell me—would that be a situation you’d be amenable to?”

She chewed at her lower lip hesitantly and looked up at him through her lashes. “I trust you enough that if you think it would—it would be a good idea, then…”

“This isn’t about me,” he tutted.

“Everything in my life is about you,” she corrected sharply, and then immediately went beet red. “Fucking just—gag me or something. Please.”

Vil laughed. “That can be arranged. But first,” he grinned, moving to slip lithely to his feet. “I do believe I need to have a conversation with my Vice Warden.”

.

.

 “Shouldn’t we at least wait until the potion wears off?” Saya asked, hoping she didn’t sound nearly as panicked as she felt. “And, I mean,” she spluttered. “This all probably feels a bit sudden, right? Like, I know if someone knocked at my door one minute to—to—"

Rook’s answering grin had a shiver running down her spine and Vil reached out to tweak her cheek like an unruly child.

“Nonsense. How else will we know if you’re being honest about the experience, hmm?”

“That’s fair. I do lie about how I’m feeling a lot,” she said, and then instantly bit into her lip with a scowl. Fucking— “But that still doesn’t answer the,” she waved her hand around her head. “The other bit.”

“Ahh, but what predator could ever turn down such an opportunity to pounce when a feast is presented to him, hmm?” Rook cooed, hand over his heart as if he was about to start delivering a grand poem. “Particularly when it is a meal I’ve most looked forward to. And I can promise that I have thought on it long and often, mon chaton,” he smirked—a strange, dark, twisty thing that showed perhaps a few too many teeth. “It is so hard to look away when so much fluttering beauty twines itself so frequently beneath a shared roof.”

Dutifully ignoring the implications of that little statement, she frowned and said, “But you like pretty things.”

Vil frowned right back, but before he could launch into another one of his irritable spiels about self-value, and ‘in the eye of the beholder, blablabla,’ Rook ducked in and scooped her hands up between his.

“There is loveliness in delicacy,” the hunter agreed easily, smoothly. “But there is also beauty in a storm, in destruction. Qu'est-ce que la vie sans la mort? Qu'est-ce que l'amour sans l'horreur? And you, petite tentatrice,” he grinned, “are the loveliest storm of all.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. “I’m sorry, but did you just French your way into saying that me being an unruly bitch is hot?”

“Ahh,” he crooned, lifting a hand as if he was about to swoon, “you’ve found me out!” And then that grin was back, sending all kinds of nervous goosebumps racing down her arms. “An easy hunt may speak to one’s skill well enough, but sometimes I can’t help but hope for a chase.”

“You’re unsettling her,” Vil warned, reaching out to twine an arm around her waist and rub soothing circles into the divots of her hips. “I told you not to overdo it.”

“Ah, pardonne moi, pardonne moi!” he lamented. “But I could hardly help myself.”

Vil’s amethyst eyes narrowed, a silent reprimand and threat all in one. You will help yourself, that glare warned. And while the Vice Warden certainly didn’t outright cow to that sneer, he dipped his chin in easy submittance nonetheless.

“Of course, mon reine,” he chirped. “This is a gift! And I will do my best to cherish it so.”

He reached forward and brushed a wayward strand of honey-hued hair from Saya’s eyes—fingers landing neatly on her cheek after to rub at the spreading flush there.

“How could I not? Especially after you’ve trained her so wonderfully.”

Saya gasped in indignation, that nervous blush staining plum red with rage instead.

“I’m not a fucking dog!” She snapped. “And he hasn’t—I haven’t been—”

“We’re working on it,” Vil droned, and Saya started spluttering all over again.

“We are not!”

“Well, we aren’t,” the ethereal beauty sighed, as if terribly put upon. “That is my job, after all. And you don’t make it easy, darling.”

The snarky retort twisted off her tongue with the taste of popping bubbles and lingering herbs, and instead, what came out was a pouty, “I thought that was the point.”

She cursed colorfully under her breath and Rook burst into gleeful laughter.

“Oh, she is just merveilleuse, mon reine. Je suis honoré que vous souhaitiez partager une telle merveille avec votre humble serviteur.”

Vil scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Perhaps if you were so humble as you’d like me to believe, you wouldn’t have been so bold in your spying these past months.”

Rook held up his hands with another snicker, as if to say ‘you caught me!’

“But it worked, did it not?” he beamed, and then leaned forward to nuzzle along the underside of Saya’s jaw. His teeth skimmed the delicate, pale skin there and she pressed back against Vil with a squeak.

Vil rolled his eyes yet again and shifted so that Saya could tuck herself up against him in one, long lean line. Like a cat arching away from the wandering hands of an overenthusiastic guest and towards the familiar warmth of its owner. But all that being said, proper socialization was all in the name of the game. And he would be terribly bereft to go lax in his diligent efforts now of all times. 

“Gently,” he reprimanded. “She startles easily.”

“I’m not a—” she squeaked again, and Rook ducked forward with another sharp nip. “It’s not weird to be jumpy. I’d never done anything like this before I met you.”

“Ah, comme c'est chéri,” Rook cooed, as he burrowed in closer and latched his mouth against the hollow beneath her throat, sucking an angry, purple bruise against the pale skin there. “Did you know,” he trilled, popping back with a preening little smirk to observe his handiwork, “that our dearest queen does have quite the love of, ah, how did you describe it?” Rook mused. “Un amour de la corruption?”

“Rook,” Vil sneered, lip curling in warning.

“Not like that’s anything I didn’t already know,” Saya scoffed under her breath, and then squawked when familiar, painted nails dug into her hips.

“What was that, kitten?”

“I—I just meant,” she gulped, cursing that stupid potion with every fiber of her being. “It was—you got excited. When I said I was—that I had never—and you—I—” she trailed off with a nervous incoherence.

Vil hummed against her neck and she shivered.

“This is quite the difference,” he mused, a note of interest curling over his words. “To ask for an answer and to receive one rather than some stuttering, biting attempt at maintaining your dignity. I can’t say I’m opposed.” His hands trailed lower. “Perhaps not forever, but as an anomaly—as a treat,” he smirked. “For all my hard work.” She could feel the blunt, rounded edges of his nails trailing back and forth at the inseam of her thighs. “I do enjoy the ensuing correction far too much to want this new sweetness of yours to become a permanent fixture in our lives, but for the time being…”  

Saya gulped, and she could see Rook’s eyes trace the movement like a fox watching a rabbit’s hole.

“Tell me, won’t you” Vil demanded, head going high once more and some of that haughty, put-upon superiority lighting his eyes. Saya knew that expression, and it meant literally nothing good for her hips or spine for the upcoming days. “What makes this so appealing to you?” He grinned against her hair, sharp. “Wanting to be taken so thoroughly.”

“I—” she spluttered, feeling those awful, terrible remnants of magic dancing around her mouth. “It just—I—” and then that arcana popped with a focus and she was babbling all over again. “It just seems—seems nice. To be wanted that badly to be shared like, like something special. And—being between—the, the warmth of it seems—I…” She was going to die. Melt into a puddle and stain his stupid carpet with her untimely end. “I like to be squished, and held. And being that full seems nice.”

“Tellement poétique!” Rook crooned, looking nearly sparkly-eyed with wonder.

‘I hate this,’ she tried to spit, but instead, “I don’t mind this.”

Vil snorted a laugh into her hair.

“Yes, darling. I could tell.”

His hand dipped past the edge of the towel and brushed pointedly between her legs. He pulled back when she squeaked and held his fingers up with the same air as a teacher offering a demonstration. The wetness on them caught the light overhead—shining and slippery—and Saya tried to bury her face in her hands.

“You’re not particularly subtle,” he hummed, amused. And Saya felt like her blood was about to boil straight out of her veins.

And then, because apparently the love of her stupid life was actively trying to send her into cardiac arrest, she watched through her fingers as Vil stretched forward and offered his hand for Rook’s inspection. The hunter’s gaze tracked the slow, sticky drip of her and his emerald eyes pointedly flickered down to the space between her thighs, still artfully hidden beneath the fringe of the bath towel. And then those too-bright eyes slipped back up to meet hers and he leaned forward to lick a long stripe up Vil’s palm.

“No need for embarrassment,” Rook promised, licking his lips pleasantly. “Neither of us can lay claim to the notion of subtly either, favori.”

“Oh my God,” she choked.

“Ah, ah,” Vil tutted, twisting his other hand forward to pinch at her thigh. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Vil,” she gasped, a bit too close to a petulant whine.

“Better,” he smirked, and then reached up to loose the folds of her little towel, sending it fluttering to the mattress beneath them. Saya shivered at the rush of cold air, and then again when she caught the strange, predatory gleam in their guest’s green eyes. His gaze was like a tangible thing, running over every bit of exposed skin like the edge of a blade dipping along her shaking limbs.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she snipped, embarrassed.

“Oh, not to worry!” he chirped. “I’ve taken several!”

“What—"

Vil twined his fingers through the shorter hair at the base of her skull and tugged. “Focus, kitten.”

“I’m always focused on you,” she snapped, potion bubbling off her tongue. And Vil rewarded her honesty with another sharp tug and a dip into a deep kiss. He pressed her down until she was dizzy, and when he finally pulled back with a contented hum and a flickering, wine-warm smirk, Saya felt like she was ready to melt into the bed.

“How do you always look so stupidly put together during sex?” she complained, unbidden. “And I always wind up looking like I’ve been railed halfway to Sunday.”

Vil snorted in amusement. “Perhaps that’s the point.”

His purple irises jumped past her shoulder and then the bed was dipping again. Saya blinked, not even having realized that Rook had stepped away. But then the hunter was back and she squeaked as a pair of deceptively well-muscled arms hauled her up against an unfamiliar and very naked chest. Vil nodded, as if in satisfaction with the state of things, and then eased himself back towards solid ground to also begin the process of divesting himself of his ridiculously intricate House Robes.

A pair of unfamiliar fingers snagged her chin and Saya found herself turned to face a smile that would not look out of place on a shark.

“There you are, chérie,” Rook purred, like a big cat hulking down over its kill, and then ducked forward to press his mouth against hers in a kiss that was like a whirlwind. While Vil kissed like an artform—a perfected, poised, creation that pushed as soft or as hard as he felt suited the moment, Rook kissed like he meant to eat her alive. He nipped at her lips until Saya was tasting copper, and the self-satisfied groan that rumbled from his throat had her nearly vibrating out of her skin.

The bed was dipping again and she felt another set of far more familiar hands work their way around her waist—pushing the leach away and dragging her back across the sheets to sprawl along a lean lap. Rook laughed, pleasantly amused, and pointedly reached up to wipe a speck of blood off his chin.

“Poor thing,” Vil sighed, brushing a thumb along the smear of crimson at the corner of Saya’s own abused mouth.

The poisonous beauty leaned forward to press his lips back against hers. He laved his tongue across the fresh cut there, easing the sting and sharpening it all at once.

“He’s just terrible to you, isn’t he?” he cooed, all mocking softness. “I suppose you’ll never be able to complain about my own methods again, once this is over. I’m not nearly that mean, am I, kitten?”  

“I like it when you’re a little mean to me,” she admitted, eyes darting away in mulish embarrassment.

Vil chuckled against her throat—a warm, satisfied thing. “You’re providing me with far too my ammunition this evening, darling.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped. “I’m literally never going to live this down.”

“Ah,” Rook trilled, slipping forward to tuck himself up against the skin of her back. And Jesus, she’d known the two of them were pretty substantially taller than her, but being wedged between them like this was a stark reminder of just how teeny she was. “But is it not better to be open and true with the one you love, hmm?”

“It’s not my fault I’m emotionally constipated,” she grumbled.

“Oh?” the hunter mused. “If you provide me with a list of the ones who are suitably responsible then, I would be more than happy to ensure that such a strain upon your person would never occur again.”

“Uhm,” Saya spluttered. “Appreciated, but… I mean, they’re all back in my old world anyways.”

“Ah,” he hummed, ducking over her shoulder to press another kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Quel malheur.”

There were too many hands at her waist, and the pull of it was a bit disorientating. Saya swayed into one kiss and then another, neck craning back and forth—left to right, left to right.

“How would you prefer us?” Vil asked, with all the casual nuance of someone inquiring after the weather. It was going to drive her insane. And holy fuck, holy shit, they were—

“—actually doing this,” she choked, feeling lightheaded and far, far too warm.

“Of course,” Vil smirked, amusement playing across his face. “Unless you want us to stop.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” she squawked, and then buried her face in his shoulder in humiliation. Rook laughed, chiming and musical against her collarbone.

Vil reached around to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of her rump and squeeze. “Well? You haven’t answered me.”

“…You in front?” she asked, tentative. “So I can…”

“So you can?” he pressed, dragging her back and forth between them in a horrible, torturous grind.

“So I can kiss you,” she mumbled, pink from the tip of her chin to the roots of her hair.

That upright, royal smugness melted from his face for a moment in a wave of golden fondness, and he ducked in to press a sweet, soft kiss to her lips—his hands coming up to cup her cheeks and run gently through her mused hair. She could hear Rook let out the most besotted little sigh, like he was watching a favorite scene from one of Neige’s romcoms.

“Ah, l'amour vrai,” he breathed, leaning forward to hook his chin over her shoulder. “I never will tire of the sight.” 

“Mmm,” Vil hummed, pulling away from her mouth with a lingering nip and a long, deep drag of his tongue along hers. “I suppose not, if I have any say in it.”

Saya blinked—dizzy, and warm, and jaw still hanging slack—and Rook laughed at the startled look on her face.

“Meaning he’d like to keep you forever, mon coeur,” he chirped. “So such a treat on the eyes will never have an expiry date.”

“Oh,” she whispered, still far too dazed and only falling further into that horrible, hot spiral when Vil’s fingers shifted back down to her waist to pull her back into that slow, smooth, grind between them. It was awful, and wet. And surely she was making a hideous mess of the sheets. And their thighs. And all of it. But neither of them seemed to mind, only groaned low against her skin as the blonde beauty rocked her and back and forth, and back and forth, and back and—

“Still alright, kitten?” he laughed, leaning forward to suck another dark mark against her throat.

“I want that,” she blurted, and it came out shivery and far too high. “Being—” Son of a—No! No! She had some dignity left! And stupid fucking truth potion or otherwise, she wasn’t going to let him tease her into saying— “Being yours forever.”

Another kiss, so deep and strong it had her collapsing back against Rook’s chest with the push of it. She whined against painted lips and she felt the hunter’s pleased rumble along her spine in return.

“Si réactif,” he sighed, dipping down to the other side of her throat to lave a matching mark to one Vil had only just bitten into her skin.

Vil hummed again, deep in his chest—lips trailing from her mouth, down her chin, and all the way to her collarbones. “Isn’t she?”

“Okay, okay,” Saya squawked, fighting a shiver when Rook’s hands curled around her front to cup at her chest. “Can we stop talking out how stupidly squeaky I am and just—just get on with—"

Two of Vil’s fingers curled up into her in one, sharp thrust and she gasped.

“What was that, kitten?” he cooed. “I couldn’t hear you—” another brutal thump thump thump, another strangled exhale, “over whatever—” gasping, and gasping, “you were trying,” Saya squealed, hands coming down to tug fruitlessly at Vil’s wrist as he drilled up into her over, and over, and over—“to say?”

She bucked against his grip and then Rook’s palm was slipping forward to press down hard just below her naval. And she could practically feel the tips of Vil’s fingers grinding up against the hand at her abdomen. Full, and tight, and so, so—

The hunter’s other hand dipped low between her legs to rub tight, focused circles against her clit and the winding, spring of heat in her gut just about snapped. Hard, and fast, and sudden. And then it was gone. Those crafty, wet fingers slipping away to stroke along her flank instead. Saya threw her head back against Rook’s shoulder with a whimpering gasp. She bit into her lip and pressed her fingers over her mouth in a bid to trap some of the horrible, embarrassing noises trying to sneak off her tongue. To trap the complaint, that she could feel bubbling up along with those awful, terrible mews. Because if she ever, in all her life, let a whiny, little ‘why did you stop?’ pass her lips, Rook Hunt would never let her live it down. Ever.

She breathed through her nose, counting slow and steady as she tried to drag her head back out of the clouds. And just when she thought she was settling that horrible, heat addled, fog into something manageable, the grinding started again and she squeaked.

“Wh-What are you—” she choked, twisting down against a third finger. A fourth.

“I know that normally you prefer a bit of a sting,” Vil said, and Saya was nodding along with the bubbles of that godawful potion before she could help herself. There was a twitch in Rook’s fingers along the dip of her spine, and she could feel his nails dig into the skin there like he couldn’t help himself. “But this is something new, darling. So it’s better safe than sorry, hmm?”

“I wouldn’t be sorry,” she blurted, and then cursed under her breath. “Probably.”

Vil chuckled, indulgent, against her cheek, and then curved his fingers in a way that had her seeing stars.

“Another time, perhaps,” he trilled, soft, and went back to scissoring back and forth. A steady, slippery grind to ease their way.

There was a curious hum at her shoulder and then Rook’s fingers were dancing back around to tap at Vil’s steadily rocking wrist.

“May I?”

Those heavily lined eyes narrowed for a moment, considering, and then he slowly shifted his hand to make room for Rook’s own, slipping two fingers aside to leave a soft, warm space between them.

“Carefully,” he warned, firm.

“Bien sûr, bien sûr!” Rook trilled, delving forward too fast, and too quick, and not in line with his sweet, little reassurance at all. Saya squeaked and clenched her thighs shut around his hand. Hips stuttering on the rapid thump, thump, thump of his knuckles meeting her folds. She arched away with a gasp, toes twisting in the sheets and head tossing back and forth in a tight, strangled little mewl.

“Slower,” Vil snapped, and Rook sighed like an unrepentant child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Yes, yes. As you say, mon reine.”

The brutal pace grew more tempered, more constrained, and Saya’s muscles slowly eased out of their rigid arch. Vil hummed, approving, and deftly began to twist his own fingers again in time with Rook’s enthusiastic exploration.

“Angle yourself a bit more towards the front. And a touch to the right,” he coached, and then there was familiar pressure against a tight, far too sensitive part of her that had Saya keening. “Ah. That’s it then.”

“Merci, merci, Roi de Poison,” Rook beamed, “for your marvelous guidance, as always.”

“Please, just—” she begged, twisting and bucking against the mess of hands between her legs. Because she couldn’t—it was all—there was so much—and— “It’s fine. I’m ready. Please. Can you just—”

There was a sharp pinch at her hip that had her whining and flinching away.

“Don’t rush me, kitten,” Vil chastised. “You know the rules.”

“Of course I do,” Saya snapped, more of those same, terrible truths popping along her tongue like fizz off a soft drink. “And breaking them is the only thing that gets you to actually fuck me nine out of ten times. So of course I—"

Another wicked sting at the inside of her thigh, and Saya yelped.

“My, you are an unruly, little thing aren’t you, favori?” Rook cooed, nails raking up and down her pale skin like he wanted to etch those stark, red lines into her flesh like a tattoo. “Your darling Queen adores you so much, and this is how you repay him?” There was a near-feral, hungry spark in those emerald eyes that had her trembling. And suddenly Saya felt very much like a rabbit trapped between the jaws of a cackling fox. A feisty, smirking predator who just wanted any excuse to chase, and pounce, and bite—

“Enough, Rook.”

 Another sigh, long and lamenting. And Saya shivered against a fresh wave of goosebumps.

Vil hooked a finger beneath her chin and pulled her forward into a slow, syrupy kiss. His tongue traced steadily along hers, lining her teeth, pricking her canines, twining round and round until she was easing back against him with a soft sigh.

“There you are, kitten” he hummed, pulling back with a thin, sticky trail of saliva—keeping close enough that it didn’t have quite enough stretch to snap and break between them. He cupped her cheeks between his palms and Saya did her best to ignore the stripe of thick, slippery wetness that rubbed along her skin. “I think we’ve teased you enough for one night, don’t you?”

She nodded, still a bit too shivery and teary-eyed. Trembling like a leaf in the wind. And Vil leaned forward with a sweet coo to offer her another kiss.

“Do you still want this, darling?”

Another nod. One that she probably would have offered even without a Truth Potion coursing through her veins. Because, yes. It was a lot. But—but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? And Rook was still a bit, well, himself. And Saya still felt like he was two steps away from sinking his teeth into her throat and never letting go. But she trusted Vil to stay the Hunter’s hand—to keep them both in line. So she twisted her fingers through his own, finely manicured ones and leaned forward to press a soft, tremulous kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“There’s my good girl,” Vil hummed, an indulgent, little smile curling his red lips. “Now, how to best go about this…”

Manicured fingers rose to clasp firmly along the line of her shoulders, and then Vil was easing her back flat against the mattress. Her head landed with a soft ‘thump’ against Rook’s thighs, and immediately the hunter’s hands were curling into the loose waves of her hair, raking his nails along her scalp until she was shivering all over again. Vil slid his palms down along her sides to cup under her rear and raise her hips off the pooling, silk sheets. One curved further along her lower back to keep her aloft, and the other ran down her legs one at a time, hooking one calf around his waist and then the other.

He shifted forward on his knees until he was looming over her and ducked down to press another deep, breath-stealing kiss into her lips. And then he was rocking forward and slipping in slow and smooth. Saya whined against his mouth and he nipped softly at lower her lip in reprimand.

“Relax, kitten.”

She whined again and tried to shift her hips to better accommodate the familiar stretch, but Vil dug his fingers into her side to keep her firmly in place, tapping one, painted nail against the dip in her waist like a reprimand. She stilled under that firm grip all at once and Rook trilled something enthusiastic and saccharine sweet in her ear.

“Si bien entraîné,” he cooed, peppering kisses all along the curve of her jaw, up her cheek, along the bridge of her nose. “Si adorable,” another wave of pecks along her forehead. “Tu le prends si bien, favori.”

Saya scrunched her nose beneath the endless press of fluttering lips, ticklish, and Rook laughed—bright and fond. He leaned in closer to run the broad flat of his tongue along her lips instead and Saya fought a complaint, because that would just open her mouth up to the rest of him. And going by the spark darkening that emerald leer of his, that was exactly what he was hoping for.

Vil shooed the hunter away with an exasperated wave of his hand and shifted his palms back along the dip in her spine.

“Up, darling.”

He rolled back onto his knees and Saya shifted obediently alongside him—letting herself be swooped up from the long, lean sprawl and into his lap. She wobbled a bit and dug her teeth into her lip to focus on keeping her balance. It was an odd sort of position. Normally when Vil settled her in his lap, she was flush with his thighs. Pressed core to core so that he could grind her down along his length and whisper terrible things into her ear that made her melt. Now, she was situated far further up—sticky clit bumping against the firm muscles of his stomach and thighs shivering into an arch. Like trying to hold a rising trot on a horse.  

Vil ran a soothing hand up and down her trembling sides.

“Good girl, doing so lovely for us” he hummed, pressing her closer and encouraging her to grind low, slow circles against his abdomen. Saya fought a shiver and bit her lip harder. “Stay just like this, hmm?”

She nodded, jittery but determined, and he smiled indulgently against her throat.

Amethyst eyes flashed towards their guest and Vil dipped his chin—an order. And then Rook was draping himself along her back once more, hands curling around to knead and pinch along her chest like he couldn’t help himself. Squeezing handfuls of soft, squishy flesh between his palms, rolling pink peaks between his fingers in sharp, overenthusiastic twists, and panting near-indiscernible obscenities into her neck all the while. Vil shuffled them around until they were situated to his liking, smacking at Rook’s limbs whenever the hunter tried to readjust himself or slip too close too soon. Two sets of hands dug themselves into her hips, and Saya could feel the hot, blunt press of Rook at her back like a brand. He sighed, whimsical, against her shoulders and rutted short, aborted thrusts against her rear—leaving smears of tacky, warm precum in his wake like a signature. Saya could feel it cooling in sticky trails all along her skin, but Rook seemed more than merry with the idea of letting it pool there, thick and messy, until they were stuck together at the hip from it.

She was still pressed up at that awkward angle, still rubbing those soft, wet, maddening circles right where Vil had told her to. And even though her thighs were really starting to ache, Saya realized oh. Like this, Rook could drive right up into her, couldn’t he? They both could. And then, after she was wrapped up between them like a lock and key, they would be able to pass her back and forth so easily, and—

Vil rocked up into her in one quick, sharp thrust and Saya’s attention was immediately snapping back to him on a high-pitched keen.   

“Focus, kitten,” he chastised. “Just for this part, at the very least. So that we can make sure everything’s going the way it should. And,” he pressed, flicking at her nose, “because you will be telling us if anything hurts. Understood?”

The potion popped in her mouth with a vengeance, and she found herself pouting, “But I like when it—"

Vil nipped at her lips to stop the words in their tracks, but Rook was already gasping delightedly in her ear.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he chuffed, amused.

The House Warden propped his chin against her shoulder to press a wet, lingering kiss beneath her ear. And with his teeth still scraping against her skin, he canted his head back to shoot Rook the coldest, sharpest look she’d ever seen him level at the hunter in their bed.

“She’s small,” Vil said, like a warning. But there was something else there too, underlying. Something curling, and dark, and possessive that Saya wasn’t really sure what to make of. “So you need to be careful.”

She couldn’t see Rook’s reaction from over her shoulder, but whatever stare down they were locked in felt like it dragged on for an age. And then, finally, Vil was relaxing against her with a nod and drawing the both of them back into the little cradle of limbs he’d so deftly constructed.  

“Go on then,” he ordered, in the same, haughty tone he might use for making demands of an unruly student. “She’s waiting.”

“A crime I shall never be able to repent for,” Rook crooned, and then dug his fingers along Saya’s hips until she was carefully arching away from Vil’s with a soft hiss.

It was a bit of an awkward balancing act at first—trying to keep herself from tipping too far forward or too far back. To keep Vil between her legs without slipping off entirely while also bowing her spine enough to give Rook the access he needed. He panted along her shoulder, biting and licking as he went in a way that made her think of rabbits and predators all over again. She could feel the steady, blunt pressure of him as he rocked forward bit by bit. Careful, just like Vil had demanded he be. Saya shifted against the strain in her legs and gave a tentative swivel of her hips, trying to coax him into seating himself deeper. And, naturally, Vil was there in an instant to nip admonishingly at her throat and tighten his grip until she kept herself still once more.

“Be patient, kitten.”

I am being patient, she wanted to whine back, but in that moment, Rook hit a point where the resistance seemed to give way all at once, and she was sliding all the way down against the both of them with a noise like the air had been knocked straight out of her lungs.

Vil groaned, low and punched out, against her neck, and Rook hissed from behind his teeth.

“Si serrée,” he gasped, hips rabbiting up fast—once, twice—like he couldn’t help himself, and Vil snapped something under his breath that Saya was too out of her wits to make sense of. Because it was so, so much. So tight, and hot, and the pressure was just, so, so—

She panted around them and dug her nails into Vil’s shoulders hard, hard, hard. He didn’t even flinch.

“Alright?” he asked after a moment, mouthing gently at the hollow below her collarbone as he glanced up at her from beneath heavy lashes.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, jerkily, dizzily.

“Nothing painful?” he coaxed, and Saya shook her head until her hair was flying around her cheeks. The pressure and the tight, tight, tight, tight of it was almost too much to bear. Teetering precariously along that ledge of ‘too much.’ But it was also so, so good—

“It feels—”

“Go on,” Rook teased, voice a bit tremulous and breathy, and she could feel the words slither along the shell of her ear. Vil shushed him sharply and then pressed another encouraging kiss to her throat.

“Don’t mind him, darling. When you’re ready.”

“It’s nice?” she managed to choke out, when Vil shifted a bit at her front and it sent a tidal wave of all sorts of unfamiliar pressure through the rest of her. Lovely, and full, and different, and—

“Ah, avez-vous entendu que, mon reine?” the hunter tutted. “We are but ‘nice.’ That doesn’t sound like much of a resounding success, no?”

“No,” Vil hummed on a wry sort of agreement that sounded like nothing but trouble. He shifted again, giving an experimental rut of his hips as he did so that had all three of them shivering on a moan. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement. How unfortunate.”

“Very nice?” Saya spluttered out frantically.

“Oh, come now!” Rook mewed, and she could feel his fingers reaching around to dig into her hips and gently begin to pull her down. “Surely we can do better than that, mon reine.”

“Surely,” he echoed, gaze flitting pointedly over her shoulder to whatever expression was curling over their guest’s face. Vil’s eyes narrowed again, but that swimming, dark something from before was absent. Now, it just looked like a challenge. Saya could feel Rook���s smile widen against her cheek. “Keep to my rhythm,” Vil demanded, giving another sharp, deep, push that had Saya dipping back on a gasp. Rook chirped in delight.

“I will, as always, endeavor to follow your lead in all things, mon reine,” he trilled, letting his own hips jump forward in response. It was too hard, too quick, and Saya yelped when the force of it nearly toppled her out of both of their laps.

“Rook.”

“Apologies, apologies,” the hunter cooed, giving another, gentler thrust. “I was too eager, I’m afraid.”

Vil huffed under his breath and then started up his own, measured grind. He twined his fingers along Saya’s hips and pulled her down at each upward press. Meeting his thrusts in time so that they struck long, and deep, and hard along all the familiar, sensitive places that he knew far too well. It took a moment for Rook to match it—to push in as Vil eased out. To rut just hard enough to have her whining and gasping but not squeaking in discomfort. And Saya was dying. The press of the two of them was so, so much. She felt out of her skin—like her pulse was a match to the pressures in her belly and those alone. She raked her nails down Vil’s back until he was hissing with it and Rook trilled in delight.

“Next time,” he sighed, dreamy, and stuttered on a thrust. “Ah, la merveille de sentir tes griffes dans ma peau,” he crooned. He bit at her throat, hard, and Saya choked on a squeak. “What I wouldn’t give—”

“Focus, Rook,” Vil snorted, reaching a hand down between them to rub tight circles against Saya’s clit until she was shivering.

“Ah, désolé, désolé,” the Vice Warden chirped, and then drove up hard enough to nearly send her sprawling all over again. But this time he kept his fingers firm around her waist, hauling her down against the pair of them just as sharply. And Saya keened.

Vil didn’t even bother to chastise him this time, his own head falling back on a startled grunt at the tight, tight heat—his hips catching on the slick drag of it and nearly tugging him under. He dug his fingers in alongside Rook’s and pulled her down harsher. Until Saya was hiccupping on every thrust and panting desperate, whiny sentiments against his shoulder. That curling, clawing warmth in her gut spiraled higher, and Vil’s eyes caught on hers like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“Almost there, kitten?” he breathed against her cheek, wet and fast. “We do have an audience this, time, don’t we?” he cooed, pupils pulsing so wide and blown that they nearly swallowed the amethyst there in its entirety. “So we’re going to have to make it count.”

And then his fingers were working over her clit in earnest and Saya squealed.

“Vil—”

“Louder.”

She gulped, nearly choking on air, and that potion bubbled in her veins like a promise.

“Vil.”

“Can’t hear you, darling.” Which was absolutely rich, coming for the man currently pushing words past his throat like he trying not to gasp for breath. Like every other sound coming out of him wasn’t some airy, punched-out groan.

“Vil—"

“You can do better than that, kitten.”

Saya’s very rightful complaint broke into a squawk when Rook drove up harder. When the two of them met in the middle in perfect sync—in a perfect, terrible pressure that was far too much. And she wanted to scream, and scream, and—

“That’s it, darling.”

Saya wailed, tucking herself tight against Vil’s chest like she could crawl inside him if she pushed hard enough. That she could live there forever alongside the staccato thump thump thump of his heart at her front, and Rook’s at her back, and—

The spring snapped and Saya was tumbling over the edge all at once. Rook moaned, low and long, from over her shoulder and Vil cursed under his breath. Both sets of hips stuttered at the tight, tight clench and then, as she was still trembling, and panting, and seeing stars, Vil groaned and released deep inside her in a familiar, wet, wave of heat. Rook followed not a moment after, sighing, and gasping, and pushing forward as far as he could go.

It took a long, long time for her to come down. And even after that, Saya was still shaking, and shivery, and far too oversensitive. Rook shifted at her back—still tucked up as deep inside as he could manage. Still wet, and warm, and heavy—and she winced at the tender sting of it. Vil’s lips traced a soft, sweet pattern against her temple, murmuring reassurances that she still wasn’t quite in the right mind to make sense of, and then he was gently easing her off the both of them and back down towards the sheets. Carefully, carefully. Saya’s thighs throbbed, and then the rest of her gave an answering, sore flinch. All the way down to the core of her. She was sticky, and aching, and there was a pool of white, tacky, wetness cooling between her legs that she could feel trailing down, down, down. She shifted with another flinch, hoping to take some of the pressure off her hips, and Vil’s hands reached down to slot a pillow beneath her lower back.

“There you are, darling,” Vil hummed, tucking her gently between the pair of them so she could curl up into his side, mess be damned. Rook draped himself delicately along her back, rubbing circles into the bruises by her hips and cooing soft, low sentiments into her hair. “You did so well, sweetheart.”

Saya grumbled something drunkenly incoherent into his chest and Vil chuffed in amusement against her flushed cheeks.

“Une prestation magistrale,” Rook encouraged, still a bit warbly, a bit breathless, and licked a long, lazy line over the sweat beading along her skin. “Truly, I have never witnessed such perfection in human form, mon coeur.”

Saya’s head lolled forward on another, soft hiccup and she snuggled in tighter—embarrassed. Limbs loose and shivering.

Vil’s hand trailed up and down her arm in slow, measured strokes.

“Too much?” he coaxed, concerned, and Saya managed to shake her head until he was laughing at her under his breath. “Ah. Just enough then, I suppose.”

She took a moment to just breathe—to take in the familiar scents of Vil’s lingering cologne, the soft, floral breeze of his shampoo, the lavender musk that was just him. And overlaid amidst all that cozy comfort was the smell of cypress and pine. Of ozone, and leather, and sprawling forests. Saya scrunched her nose nervously against Vil’s collarbone for a moment, taking in another few, deep breaths to steady herself. And then she turned back onto her side, wincing all the while. The hands at her hips faltered, and with careful, cautious movements, she managed to flop all the way over without squeaking even once.

Saya peeked up at Rook from beneath her golden lashes, nervous. And then slowly, hesitantly, she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Uhm…” she spluttered, quickly averting her gaze and ears going pink in chagrin. Despite how innocent it was in comparison to all the things that they’d just done—what they’d done to her. “…Thank you.”

And then she was ducking back into the safety of Vil’s arms far too quickly, wheezing in discomfort when it tugged at muscles she didn’t even know could ache. She burrowed back into his chest with a sniffly little whine that was far too teary for her pride to admit, and Vil was immediately back to cooing and carding his fingers through her hair.

The House Warden smiled into her mused locks for a moment longer before letting his sharp gaze dart back to the hunter sprawled out beside them.

Rook had a hand delicately raised to his cheek, as if he could trace the imprint of Saya’s kiss with his fingertips alone. His green eyes had gone wide with surprise, and there was a strange, curling, spark blooming in them that Vil knew far too well.

“Oh,” Rook whispered, sounding choked. Like his heart had grown enough to swell past the cage of his chest, to press hard and welcoming against his airway like it couldn’t help itself. Ready to steal the last breath it could. Ready to take it willingly.  

Vil snorted into Saya’s hair and let her press herself in an exhausted puddle along his side, right where she was always meant to be. He closed his eyes, feeling the pleasant, sore twinges in his own muscles as he settled back against the pillows. A moment passed in silence, and then another. And then, predictably, Vil could hear the soft shft of Rook slipping closer along the mattress—feel the dip along Saya’s hips as the hunter draped himself over her back like a cloak.

Saya stiffened for a moment in surprise, but then was slipping back into sleep between one, soft breath and the next. Vil tucked himself against her nape and felt the brush of Rook’s hands as he reached forward to clutch at the teeny, shivering blonde between them like a lifeline. Vil sighed again and let himself be lulled into a dreamless doze alongside her.

They could discuss the future another time. 

.

.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x OC #Vil Schoenheit x OC #Vil x OC #Rook Hunt x OC #Vil x Rook x OC #vil schoenheit #Rook Hunt #My Writing

[litnerdwrites]

what if rysand just stayed dead? Like the high lords refused to help him.

What would happen to the inner circle, night court and feyre who literally attacked the spring court and stole from Tarquin I think.

This is something I've been thinking about for a while now. The short answer is that the NC would likely fall apart.

There's the obvious of, when Rhysand died, the land didn't shift the HL power to Feyre, so her title as HL is purely ceremonial and based off of Rhysand's authority. Admittedly, we don't know if the power shifted to someone else, then back to Rhys, or if it shifts right away all the time, or the land knew he'd come back so the power didn't leave him. However, had he stayed dead, and the power shifted to someone else, then it would likely result in conflict.

Let's assume for a moment that the power shifted back to Morrigan's bloodline. Had it chosen Mor, then it's likely that either Feyre would relinquish the title to her, Mor would relinquish it to Feyre. Though that wouldn't change that Feyre would still be a HL in title only as a result of somebody else's power and wouldn't be respected. Both of those scenarios would make maintaining relations with the CON and Illyria harder too.

Keir wouldn't respect either Feyre or Morrigan, and would likely plot a rebellion. If the power went to Mor, he would find a way to abuse his status as her father, if not outright kill her in an attempt to make the land chose him, as he would be the next the next of kin.

There'd likely also be rebellions brewing in both Illyria and the CON for similar reasons: The 'ost powerful High Lord' is dead, leaving his inexperienced wife, now powerless second in command, and cousin, to run the Court. Nobody respects Feyre. Nobody Respects Mor. Regardless of whom the power goes to, or who takes on the actual title of HL, they would rebel. Cassian and Azriel would have to either focus on Illyria or The HC, making it difficult difficult to contain all of the chaos. If Feyre chooses to handle it with politics, she'd have to be careful due to her lack of experience, however if she used extreme violence to quell the rebellion, she'd lose even more respect (not that she had much to begin with).

Now that Keir knows Velaris exists, along with what's left of Hybern and their allies, there'd be many attempts to take the city, and without Illyrians or Darkbringers, they'd lose it eventually. There'd likely be attempts on all of their lives, though mainly Feyre's, from that point onward too, and not just from territories in the NC.

Hybern had allies who were prepared to fight with them to regain the human lands, like Vallahan, for example. Out of revenge for stopping Hybern (mostly cause Hybern would've made conquering the mortal lands easy), other nations would attack. We learn in ACOMAF that some countries on the continent became discontent and envied Prythian for thriving after the first war for human freedom, so it's likely they'd take this opportunity to take their territory.

The NC is the largest land mass on Prythian, so if a country took it in the chaos, they could push downwards, through the day and dawn court, to the seasonal courts and the human lands. They'd have Velaris as their strong hold, with places like the Moonstone castle and HOW being on top of mountains, giving them an advantage against those who may try to take them back, or attack the NC. I think the Illyrians would merely want independence, but the CON may chose to ally with those nations too. All this takes place while the IC battle for control, and/or try to avoid being assassinated, if they aren't already.

Alternatively, if the power went to Keir, it's possible that other HLs may chose to take his side, and acknowledge him over Feyre, for tradition's sake. They may also insist that Feyre and her sisters be allowed to live comfortably in Velaris out of respect for her and Rhys, and because she saved them from Amarantha, but they're unlikely to support her bid for any actual power if the Land didn't chose her.

In this case, the rest of the IC would likely be forced to live as citizens or serve Keir. He'd likely take a page out of Rhysand's father's book, making Azriel his personal spy, while making Cassian a regular soldier (just to hurt them if nothing else). That's if they don't live as ordinary citizens, perhaps even give up their syphons too. Mor would likely be forced back under her father's thumb, while Amren is either put back in the prison or kicked out of the NC. He might even use his authority to bring Elain and Nesta under his thumb due to their powers, and because they have no political power in Prythian, unlike the curse breaker (though it is only a little).

The Illyrians, I feel, would either go for independence or just serve Keir without issue, and after an appropriate amount of time passed, Keir would either have the former IC killed/made vanish, or he could trick them into rebelling just to kill them earlier on.

Regardless of which version of this scenario plays out, it'll still goes on while Bryallin looks for the trove, and Koschei remains a threat. At the end of the day, no matter how powerful the IC supposedly are, when there are multiple armies, and rebellions happening, they can only do so much. They aren't indestructible. Meaning that if Rhysand died, given that it's his power that keeps everyone in check (regardless of how shitty his methods and results are), the NC is going to fall apart, or become something vastly different from what it was. The bottom line is that they're all fucked.

#anti inner circle #anti rhysand #anti acosf #anti ic #pro nesta #anti amren #anti mor #anti cassian #anti sjm #anti feyre #anti elain #anti morrigan #anti nessian #anti rhys

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

Midsommar vs SPOP: Cults and Religious Trauma

i watched Midsommar recently and was struck by how subtle and nuanced the Hårga were, in comparison to the Intergalactic Horde. of course, i don’t expect SPOP to show the kind of brutal gore that Midsommar did, but what i’m talking about is the way these cults indoctrinated members.

Horde Prime just mind controlled everyone to follow his orders and praise him, and it just felt so immature, especially compared to the way SPOP handled some of the other deeper topics. you’re telling me they wrote an actually good manipulator in the form of Shadow Weaver, but couldn’t do the same for Horde Prime? cult leaders are supposed to be manipulative. they don’t just force you to join their cults because it’s so much easier to break out of it. no, what they do is they convince you that this is for your own good. they promise you support, community, happiness, peace. they especially target emotionally vulnerable individuals, because they are a lot likely to accept help from a large community who is seemingly just looking out for them and trying to help them out.

and this is what happens in Midsommar. Dani recently lost her entire family to a murder-suicide, and her boyfriend had fallen out of love with her at this point and he often manipulates and guilt-trips her whenever she points out his mistakes. she was overall extremely lonely and depressed, trying hard to repress her emotions for everyone else’s sake. this is the kind of person the Hårga were looking for. a lot of the audience didn’t even realize that Dani was being indoctrinated into a cult or that joining said cult was going to be very unhealthy for her. that’s how convincing the Hårga were.

Pelle especially seems like the warm, comforting figure that Dani needed, letting her open up about her feelings and listening to her, in contrast to Christian, Dani’s boyfriend, who was often preoccupied with other things, and didn’t even bother to remember Dani’s birthday. you almost root for Pelle and Dani to end up together, until you realize that he is also part of the cult and all of his empathy and compassion is just a clever way to manipulate Dani into trusting the Hårga.

the scariest thing about the Hårga is that they weren’t large, imposing figures with a god complex. they didn’t have a leader who ruled them with an iron fist. they were just a seemingly normal community with seemingly normal people who had fun rituals and celebrations, and seemingly supported and cared for one another. even after seeing two people die brutally, Dani was still manipulated into joining the Hårga because they took advantage of her trauma and her loneliness. she desperately needed actual support and a shoulder to lean on, something her boyfriend didn’t provide. so when the Hårga offered her that support, it was easy for her to believe that this community was exactly what she needed.

and i think SPOP could have pulled something like this off, especially with Catra. if they really wanted us to believe that Catra felt guilty about her actions, they could have gone a more interesting route. i mentioned this in a previous post but instead of Horde Prime chipping Catra, they could have shown him manipulate her and promise her that she can be absolved of all her sins if she joined him. instead of being all like “teehee i know you have a crush on adora, you gay kitty”, they could have shown him feed on her insecurities and loneliness, and promise her a happier future of she joined him, playing on her need for validation and affection.

and in a moment of desperation, Catra believes him. she has lost everyone at this point, so she accepts what little comfort is offered to her. and then it’s the writers’ choice whether to redeem Catra by having her come to the realization that worshipping a genocidal tyrant with a god complex is actually not going to help her become a better person, and that she was just repressing her guilt and convincing herself that this is the best option; or to have her stay and face a tragic ending of sorts. either way, i think it would have been better than what we got.

i know that Nate apparently struggled with religious trauma and guilt (according to a few posts i saw, at least) and i’m not trying to say that i know his experience better than he does. i just think the execution with Horde Prime was really off, and he was almost like a funny caricature of a cult leader, rather than a representation of an actual cult leader.

#tw cult #tw religious guilt #tw religious trauma #tw manipulation #spop critical #spop salt #spop #spop discourse #spop criticism #she ra #anti spop #horde prime #catra #spop analysis #midsommar

[theology101]

I wonder who initiated the Rat Grinder-Starbreaker team up?

First bet is probably either Jace or Porter (by way of Jace) restoring one or more Rat Grinders to life while in the Mountains of Chaos. The issue with that is that Lucy didn’t get the Rune until well after Springbreak AND as far as we are aware Porter has been present each time the runes were confirmed used (Lucy, Yolanda and Buddy). If Lucy hadn’t died, then she could’ve rezzed them herself

Second one, kinda out of left field, is that it was Oisin’s Grandma. Blue dragons, especially one powerful enough to have a massive brood of Wyrmlings under her control, is incredibly powerful, cautious and self-interested. For her to commit so many resources because 1 of her presumably HUNDREDS of descendants is a little odd in and of itself. However, given that Hakinvar Sr had been friends with Kalvaxus, it isn’t out of the question that she made a deal with Jace and Porter for revenge - and also some presumably powerful rewards to make it worthwhile. Then all it took was her telling Oisin to nudge his party that way (So he changed the name to Rat Grinders, knowing it would piss of Kipperlily and make her easy for Porter to control). Which would make sense, seeming as how he is VERY involved with several steps of the plan, more so then even Jace

Last one is an oddball - what if it was Kipperlily making contact with Porter, after being manipulated by Jace? Jawbone “What can you do to be more successful as an adventurer?” is what Jawbone asked her when she was angry at the Bad Kids. Well, after their springbreak, what did they do? Restore a God to life. And where did the Rat Grinders go (under Jace’s supervision)? Ankarna’s Lost Temple. I think that Kipperlily then did the detective work to realize who Porter is, connect him to the Barkrock attack, and then ask to be in on it.

Lucy wasn’t going for it, of course, but Porter is familiar with Devil’s Honey from Bobby Dawn so he has Kipperlily order some. She convinces the party to go along with her plan to bring back Ankarna and work with Porter and Jace (“After all, the bad kids already have such an advantage, its only fair we get this) and has varying levels of success. Oisin, Ivy and Mary Ann go right along with it, cause why not? Reuben feels uneasy about it, something happens to him (maybe attacked the same way Yolanda was by Porter, brought back and was then down? Or maybe he’s just Rage Crystalled without dying) that makes him change his vibe and then he’s down.

And Lucy? Well, it works on Lucy for a little bit, enough that she changes her God. But it isn’t enough, Ruvina gets through yo her and Lucy changes back. Demanding a show of loyalty (and a promise that Lucy WILL come back on their Side), the Rat Grinder’s kill her, Porter places the Rune and she rejects it.

We’ll find out in an hour 40 but still, worth a theory

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #d20 #fhjy spoilers #kipperlilly copperkettle #porter #porter cliffbreaker #rat grinders #i just wonder you know? #She IS a mastermind rogue

[yolowritter]

In Defense of Chloe Bourgeois Part 1: Who is Chloe?

Well...shit, here we go again! Hello there everyone, welcome back to the source of my endless exasperation! Before any of you pick a side to the argument, I want to make it perfectly clear that this isn't a post about whether or not Chloe should have had a redemption arc. This is not my point, and any argument for either side have been repeated so many times by now that I can recite most by memory. So, let's begin by establishing why exactly I'm even writing this post!

Chloe Bourgeois is one of my favorite characters in Miraculous Ladybug. The...the fanon version, obviously. Canon can go keel over in an alleyway, it already has more holes in it than the average swiss cheese. I've been a part of this fandom for a good few years now, and at the time of watching Miracle Queen was understandably upset at the...direction, that her character was taken. It left a sour taste in my mouth because I honestly didn't see it coming, but I'll get more into that later. Point is, I was once a defender of Chloe's redemption arc. I am not stating if I am or not still one of those at present, because that's not what the point is. Regardless of what side of the fence you're on, we can all agree that her character was horribly mismanaged in the latter half of this show. Erratic, extreme and oftentimes illogical choices that sound stupider than Lila's average gaslighting scheme, and a character who previously had an arc going for her now being defined only by the sheer inconsistency that writhes every moment she's on-screen. I'll be honest, I no longer particularly care if Chloe "should" have been redeemed or not, because either avenue could have allowed for some brilliant (or at the very least pretty decent) storytelling.

This defense strives not to strip anyone of their arguments, nor to challenge anyone's headcanons, or make a point about what the "correct" way to handle Chloe's character should have been. Again, I lost interest in the debate a long time ago. I'm simply here to examine who Chloe is as a person, what drives her, what her life experiences have been like, and where all this could logically lead from both a writing and human perspective. I care about Chloe as a person, and about a character who if nothing else, at least acts consistently, in a way where the audience can watch them and understand why they're acting like this. I'll be trying to give context to some of her actions and fill in as many plot holes as I can, as well as giving a glimpse as to how a possible Redemption or Corruption Arc could have gone. So without any further ado, let's dive right in!

Firstly, let's start by laying out some common ground. After the Gabriel Agreste post, I think it's necessary to establish some clear lines as to what exactly we're talking about here. So before anything else, let's look at what we learn about Chloe in Season 1, yeah? Without going episode-by-episode, we generally don't get a good impression of her. Chloe is clearly spoiled by her father, used to always getting her way, and has no problem pressuring others into making that happen. She treats her classmates more like annoyances if not outright minions (Sabrina and on occasion Kim), has little consideration for other people's feelings, and likes appearing superior to everyone else. A pretty bad start, all things considered. She bosses Sabrina around, and we're explicitly told that Chloe often bribes her with her second-hand stuff, or whatever she wants to get rid of. Sabrina clearly doesn't know how to stand up for herself, and Chloe seems perfectly willing to take advantage of her doormat status. She also has the roots for a sweet sweet superiority complex firmly planted, considering how she rejects and humiliates Kim when he tries to confess his love to her. I'll be damned if I ever understand such bad taste, considering how Chloe is generally disliked by the rest of the class, but the point stands. She could have just told him no, even rudely if need be, and left it at that. Instead, she actively chose to humiliate the poor guy. Something similar happened with Nathaniel, whose feelings about Marinette she made public to everyone else for what seems to be entertainment value.

All in all, Season 1 Chloe has all the stereotypical makings of a popular girl from a 2010s American high school movie, including the narcissism, bullying, strong-arming school staff into not punishing these behaviors, inflated ego, and the complimentary minion! Except...Chloe isn't popular. With anyone, actually. Most of the class dislikes and barely puts up with her on a good day. They don't laugh along or jeer at whomever she's giving trouble to. Instead we have several instances where people actively try to either push the teachers into doing something or remove her from a situation where Chloe is causing problems. Think about the filming scenes in Horrificator for example. Chloe is acting like her usual self again, and refuses to allow Marinette to be the lead actress because she'll get to kiss Adrien. A tragedy, I know! Therefore, there's a whole plot to get her out of the room long enough for the scene to happen. People actively consider her at the very least a pain in the rear, and probably someone they just don't even want to talk to.

Obviously this isn't an excuse for anything she does. My point here is that from the perspective of the narrative, even while acting the part of a "Queen B", Chloe reaps none of the benefits, and in fact only serves to make people dislike her more with every episode that passes by. Even Adrien, who I'll circle back to in a second, her childhood friend who has a good opinion of her when he first comes to school, eventually stops trying to defend Chloe's behavior. There are, I think, a lot of reasons as to why she acts this way. Precisely none of them are an excuse or a "get out of jail" free card. Chloe still chooses to behave the way she does, regardless of the motivations.

About Adrien, we know that he and Chloe have known each other for a long while now. She was quite possibly his singular friend during his otherwise relatively isolating childhood, and she's very clearly attached to him. Chloe constantly clings to Adrien and drapes herself over him, and while he seems to find it annoying, there's still never a sense of disgust like with Lila in later Seasons. She's being suffocating, but there is never a connotation of romance here. Still, Chloe does everything she can to keep Adrien close to her, and (in Origins) "teach him how things are" in school. She's the one who got him signed up as a student in the first place, mind you, so she very clearly wants him to be around her. And while Chloe does brag about him being a famous model, she could just...do that without ever actually bringing Adrien out of the house? Clearly that's not the reason why she went through all the trouble to actually get him in the class, because bragging about it would probably go worse if she did it in front of him, or in an environment where Adrien could easily hear about and react to it. Chloe is very possessive of her "best friend" (and only friend, discounting Sabrina), and constantly belittles Marinette for trying to get close to him. Mind you, she doesn't find out about her feelings for Adrien until Season 3 I think. We never see Nino get bullied for befriending him, so what gives?

I'll talk about reasoning later down the line. For now, let's move onto Season 2. Amidst the beginnings of Ladybug handing out Miraculous jewels like candy to her best pals, seriously Season 4 overdid it, Chloe also exists. And during Despair Bear, Adrien finally puts his foot down about her behavior. He tells her that he can't be friends with someone who acts like a bully, and Chloe is genuinely hurt by this, to the point where she does her best to put on a good show and convince Adrien that is capable of not being an ass. Which is actually the case, believe it or not. She holds back the snides, does her best to make casual conversation with the people she considers to be inferior to her (I'll get to that, don't worry), and makes a real effort to keep at it for the sake of their friendship. The reason why she blows up here is made very obvious by the episode itself. Chloe is in unfamiliar territory and clearly reining herself in a lot, which Despair Bear pokes fun of in several back-to-back scenes. She doesn't want to do this, clearly has mutual dislike for the people she's forced to put up with every day and has made up her mind about a long time ago, for the sake of the one person she considers a genuine friend. And mind you, Chloe never uses Adrien for something. She brags about his job in Origins, and preens about their friendship often, but she never takes advantage of him like she does Sabrina. I will get to their toxic friendship in a minute, don't worry, but Chloe chooses not to try doing this with him. Adrien is...oblivious, to put it nicely, and she could easily try and play around that to serve her own goals, but she doesn't. Keep this in mind.

Anyway, she blows up because Armand (also c'mon, if you wanted to make the joke that Chloe doesn't know her butler's name, Jean "insert today's last name" was more than enough, Thomas) keeps lugging her teddy bear and playing pretend with her in a room full of people. I'm sorry, but that may be the most relatable Chloe moment in the whole show. Are you kidding me??? Of course she'd be embarrassed by this! I mean sure, her reaction to the situation is wrong, she shouldn't have screamed at him or threatened the man's job, but Chloe has serious anger management issues. That is obvious, because she acts like this every single day! Why would Armand do this??? She's already way out of her comfort zone by even hosting the party in the first place, surely there's easier ways of reminding Chloe not to be a bitch? Just tap her on the shoulder and say "miss, remember Adrien?" because that's the whole reason this is happening! The teddy bear is completely unecessary! Especially the voice acting! It made me laugh so hard when I first watched that episode but can you blame Chloe for being pissed? Again, she reacted poorly because her self control is comparable to Plagg's when there's camambert in his field of vision! So yeah, it's wrong to scream people's ears off like that, but she was also upset. And she's fourteen mind you!

Anyway, my actual point about Season 2 is that we get to see Chloe's character development. Thank Nooroo, finally a proper arc in this damn show! And we also get to see her family life. Side note, Andre Bourgeois is a spineless coward who I'll be bashing momentarily. But Chloe's mother is horrible! Audrey Bourgeois is blatantly neglectful, if not abusive to her daughter! She treats Chloe the same way Chloe treats everyone else! As disposable, expendable things that don't "deserve" her attention because they're not good enough. Like, if this doesn't give a six year old some hefty trauma along with an inferiority complex, what will??? And the situation becomes even worse as Chloe becomes incresingly desperate during Style Queen, trying again and again to please Audrey by copying her behavior (which she's been doing this whole time) even more intensly, and acting like the entitled, self-absorbed narcissist that her mother is! And this is where we see exactly why Chloe does what she does! Again, none of this excuses her actions, but it does help us understand the behavior. Audrey constantly puts Chloe down and belittles her the same way she does to Marinette...only to later pick the kid that Chloe is jealous of (I will explain this in a second!) to come with her to New York, where Audrey had presumably yeeted herself off to years ago and never bothered to come visit! We already know that she pressured her husband into giving up his love for film to stay with her, maybe even during her pregnancy or after Chloe's birth. Only to promptly vanish and leave him (a person who never grew a spine or managed to stand up to what is undoubtebly a toxic relationship) with her miniature copy. It's obvious that Chloe's barely ever seen Audrey, but she idolizes the woman because that's her mother! Heck, Adrien idolizes Emilie even if she was arguably not a great person (see here) and Chloe is always kicked to the curb for just doing the same!

Audrey is a horrible person and an even worse role model, but when you're five years old and she disappears from your life, is it any wonder that there's a steaming hot pile of mommy issues here? If Chloe has been told by Audrey from the moment she was old enough to understand words that she isn't "exceptional" enough to "deserve" her time, then isn't it obvious why Andre tries and fails to make up for this by always coddling his daughter and giving in to her every whim? He's trying to please her and give Chloe a sense of self-importance that Audrey made near-impossible to develop, and also makes up for his own absence by basically bribing his own child! Not that Andre is innocent in this! If anything, he's even more at fault than Audrey! Because while she flew off into the sunset to fire her twenty-seventh unpaid intern of the week, he was still in Paris with Chloe! Who grew up with him, mind you! And sure, he got elected into office and had a busy job as a single parent! You know what else he did? Crime! Almost everything he does in this damn show is completely illegal! Bribery, blackmail, undue termination of Roger's position as a police officer, who Andre doesn't even have juristiction over mind you (because Paris had the National Police until like 2021-ish if I recall correctly), he's just a corrupt, scummy politian whose ideas (see Megaleech) are harmful to the people he's supposed to be serving and outright motivated by greed! And also, we are explicitly told that he taught Chloe to do these same things! Andre Bourgeois is a total idiot who's probably been committing tax evasion for all we know, and Audrey is a self-absorbed diva who bullies her own child constantly, when she even bothers to go see her! Which is never, unless she needs to be in Paris for some other event related to her job!

Thomas, what the heck do you mean Chloe is evil? Lila is an accomplice to a domestic terrorist, and a psychopath against whom the only protection is the show's PG rating! If Lila could, she'd burn Marinette's house down for shits and giggles my good man! Audrey is everything I just mentioned, Andrey is a corrupt, spineless politician, Tomoe physically abuses her daughter with fucking katanas on the daily, Gabriel Agreste is that domestic terrorist who almost fired every nuclear warhear in the USA by the way! Because that was stupid of the NYC special to do! But he still did it! Plus the genocide in Shanghai! Accident or not, Hawkmoth is still responsible! And later on he also put his son in a room! A rubber room! Thankfully there weren't any rats, as if he needs another OSHA violation! Are you people insane when you say "I don't know why Chloe acts like this"? Have you lost your marbles??? Do you want me to have an aneurysm? Of course a child is going to act the way Chloe does if this is the shit she's been dealing with since Day 0 of her life! Does that make it okay? Absolutely not! But does it mean that she deserved what happened to her canonically? Also no! I'll talk about how the corruption arc could have worked at the end, because they tried and failed to do that, so let's circle back to the "jealous of Marinette" thing from a minute ago, kay?

Note: We're doing this in part 2 because this is closing in on 3k words already. The whole rant is done, no you don't want to know how long it is, I'm just splitting it because nobody will ever read 7.5k words worth of anything on Tumblr dot com.

< next post >

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #character analysis #in depth #extremely in depth #god help me please #i may have a problem #analysis #that's the problem #chloe bourgeois has reasons for being chloe bourgeois #this took me two weeks #seriously though #writer problems #skill issue #it's solely my issue #anyway yeah #i have to go post the other 2 parts #so... #i'll see myself out

[yanderes-galore]

Diavolo with a La Squadra darling? Like, she wants nothing to do with him since he was responsible for the murder of two of her teammates and only wants revenge, and he can't help himself but be obsessed with her. I feel like he would stalk her as Doppio first, then shortly after(because you KNOW this man is not risking it) kidnapping her himself with the help of King Crimson.

I actually think this is interesting as Diavolo knows you can be an issue with your team.... Sorry for the long wait, made pairing Gender-Neutral as I never used any pronouns.

Yandere! Diavolo with La Squadra! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Murder, Violence, Blood, Kidnapping, Sadism, Emotional manipulation, Threats, Dark themes, Biting, Neck kissing, Forced relationship.

To be fair, I think your team is already monitored by Diavolo.

Ever since he realized your team was trying to reveal his identity... He just knew he couldn't risk things.

Originally before the deaths of Sorbet and Gelato, you worked just as hard as the rest of the hitman team.

Being a Stand User yourself, you were often praised for your skills.

A little blood wasn't new for you and even Diavolo knew you could get a job done once given an order.

However, like the rest you felt burned when The Boss didn't allow the team more territory.

The unfortunate downside of being expert killers is The Boss distrusted La Squadra.

Which meant no new territory... and not a lot of income.

Sorbet and Gelato had gotten close to exposing The Boss, only to be killed as a message not to fly too close to the sun.

La Squadra felt like family to you, a close group of assassins all trying to just get paid.

Unfortunately, killing Sorbet and Gelato had the opposite effect Diavolo wanted.

Now you all just wanted to find a way to get back at him, which just so happens to be kidnapping Trish.

I can definitely see Diavolo using Doppio to stalk you.

Originally, like usual, it's to find a way to keep you at bay.

Not necessarily to kill you, but to throw you off his scent.

He's having Doppio keep an eye on the rest of your team too.

Although you're the one that manages to catch his eye.

Part of him does admire your killing instinct and loyalty.

You listen to your leader, Risotto Nero, no matter the command.

Diavolo just wishes such potential wasn't wasted on a reckless mission to find him out.

The fact you have no idea Doppio is him is something he uses to his advantage.

Truthfully, Diavolo could care less about the rest of your team?

He isn't even sure why he's so fixated on you of all things.

Most of his obsession is keeping track of you.

He wants to keep an eye on you and the team so he knows when to get rid of them.

Later on he may even do just that.

Except not only would it be due to the danger they pose, but because he wants to get a message across to you.

Diavolo is aware of how attached you are to your team.

I can see him using that attachment to isolate you.

Through Doppio he'd probably drag you or your teammates into certain situations.

Diavolo is a big planner.

If he ever did try to get you alone, he has his reasons.

That being to kill you, or in your case, abduct you.

He'd lure you with a fake order, only for you to be ambushed by Diavolo.

By the time he's interested, he's already used Doppio to gain info on every one of your habits.

Diavolo is the type to use your weaknesses against you.

First he'll reveal himself, using King Crimson to render any attack useless.

He's researched your ability right up to every little weakness you have.

By the time he's ready to take you out of the equation, he counters your ideas with a grin.

"You did say you wanted to know my identity didn't you, dear?"

Diavolo purrs, voice dripping with sadistic delight once he knows he can corner you.

"Perhaps destiny decided to be kind to the both of us, Hm?"

You don't understand his words, how could you?

You're a hitman trying to avenge your fallen comrades, meanwhile he's an obsessed madman that's been following you for a long time now.

Fate plays a cruel joke on you, allowing you to meet your target but unable to kill him.

Destiny still seemed to aid him as he's been wanting to get his hands on you for a long time now.

Once Diavolo has you, he has ways of keeping you compliant.

How? Well, remember when I said you were attached to La Squadra like family?

He threatens them with similar fates to Sorbet and Gelato.

That is, unless, you decide to play along.

He wants you to play into his desires, in return your team shall be spared for now.

Really, their fate is sealed either way.

Your team will still die even if you accept the deal.

Threats and careful planning is a big part of Diavolo's obsession with you.

He uses fear to make you controlled, even if he is a coward.

He doesn't need to put a hand on you, he doesn't want to.

No, instead he'll target one of your old squad members to be taken out.

Then he'll bring back proof.

What, aren't you used to blood?

So why do you look so ill when he brings you the corpse of a fellow La Squadra member?

Death was part of your job.

Don't spare them any tears.

Diavolo seems like the type of yandere to force you into his embrace as you stare at the corpse of a former friend, nibbling on your neck as he tells you that he "told you so".

He's possessive, viewing the deaths of your comrades as a way to get rid of a nuisance.

If the experience breaks you, good, it l benefits him.

He wants to make sure you understand who you belong to.

The moment Diavolo breaks you and gets rid of your team, he's won.

He looks forward to such a victory with a grin on his face, looking like a true demon in your eyes.

"Why don't we make a deal, dear?

#yandere jojo #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jjba #yandere diavolo

[blueberrypancakesworld]

A butterfly and a hug

Kinger x fem!circus member

warning : a little emotional, hug/cuddle, imagining things

Summary : Kinger the longest here and the craziest so it was said at least among the members but even if. His devotion to his insects is admirable…but real? A fact that nobody really liked but from the latest adventure she had brought a butterfly to give to Kinger, maybe you will finally get to see his insect collection

Info : Ahhh finally, finally, finally I'm writing for Kinger or the circus is still to come, stay tuned and have fun reading ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shouts of the puppet inhabitants of the Candy Canyon Kingdom could still be heard but everyone could hear the cheers slowly turning into horrible screams. All because of Jax who couldn't resist causing chaos and havoc but that's how he was or at least that's how she knew the purple bunny.

At the thought of what the liquid monster was doing to the inhabitants, the winding key in her back involuntarily spun faster. It's just an adventure…a simulation, she reminded herself as she arrived back on the other side of the circus tent.

She saw that the others seemed relatively okay with it though and were happy to be back and she gave Gangle a smile which the white mask returned at least a little. She had talked to Gangle a bit on the way back after talking to her about anime drawings she had seen.

The mask with the ribbon body was a good drawer and was embarrassed yet proud that someone was interested. But the others also gave each other relieved and somehow reassuring looks.

Pomni gave her a slight wave, they were both among the newest and even though Pomni was only a week behind her, it hardly seemed to make a difference. How was it even a week? They had no sense of time but they had to tell themselves.

Before her eyes fell on Kinger, the chess king, who seemed to be somewhere else again and whose mind was God knows where, she didn't want to shame him for it.

You probably had to create your own little world in this thing to keep from going crazy when he…well, he was somehow and somehow he wasn't. More like a conqueror of his own little kingdom, she thought with a grin and paid attention to the scene that was unfolding with Pomni and the crocodile from the kingdom.

But this crocodile an NPC with a background? But her skepticism and hope for a new member faded as quickly as it had come when all that was left was confetti and Pomni standing beside her. A fact that hung on all of us: Cain did not have power over us, but he could destroy and create our world here. He was like a god, a god with limitations, and perhaps the scarier thing was his nature.

But no matter what happened, after the mourning party was held not only for Kaufmo but also for Guumigoo, she heard the stories of the others and knew that it was a good idea to get closer to the others and maybe take the butterfly with her that was in her room in a little candy cage.

The images, the emotions and even the laughter of what was happening was heartwarming and even Kinger, who was having a clear moment again, seemed to be aware of the situation.

A fact she took advantage of after the party, after placing a plastic flower on the crate and walking with the others towards the slack hall, she waited for some time. Still feeling the inner turmoil about this whole thing her "room" which was a mix of a bed made of building blocks and winding keys on the wall.

It was a strange feeling to somehow be here and still keep her wits about her, but in the end she and the others had a choice? Was there an end? Did it make sense? Questions that made her anxious, questions that led to something worse as she gripped the monkey tighter in her hands…maybe it wasn't all bad.

She got along pretty well with almost everyone, even the asshole Jax, with whom she occasionally joked around before he tripped her up or threw something at her, even if it was just her winding keys. But most of all she had a thing for Kinger the giant chess piece, the crazy one, the cute one, the king or someone she felt a little bit drawn to. She questioned whether these feelings were real, but it was at least a feeling that was better than hopefulness, so why not give it a try?

A gift that he would surely like. Rising from her bed with renewed courage and walking out of the halls, she found herself back in the main hall after a few moments of wandering around, and after some tired wandering around of giant blocks, shapes and other objects, she found the impenetrable fortress as Kinger called it.

A small castle made of pillows where he stayed to either be alone or to protect himself from the outside world, according to him. ,,Kinger? Are you in there?" she asked , tapping the pillows as she felt a little light-headed, but why not join in. It took a moment for Kinger to carefully move a pillow aside when she saw that he either had no idea who she was or didn't know what to do.

,,Hi me-" she began, raising a hand only to be interrupted by him pushing his pillow back into place, ,,Password," he demanded, which only made her more confused. A password so clear and yet unclear. Of course he wants one she thought and shook her head, either she was lucky and he forgot it himself or he was insisting on something that didn't exist.

For a moment, she thought about all the combinations of all the chess moves and was about to take the pillow away again when she paused and looked at the scatter in the cage. ,,Butterfly," she said, staring at the pillow, hoping it was right, when the king suddenly poked his head out of the fortress, ,,What are you doing here?" she asked, pulling her into his little pillow castle where he was kneeling.

Smirking and rolling her eyes at his quick change, she made herself as comfortable as she could and saw that Kinger was apparently busy with something or rather talking to something in one hand. ..Is this one of your insects?" she asked, pointing her doll-like hand at his, could feel the soft fabric of his glove under her wooden fingers and saw that he was turning towards her.

,,One of my favorites, a ladybug, small and cute," he said and she saw in his blue eyes, next to the bloodshot veins, joy that he could talk to her about it.

Before he moved closer, she leaned forward slightly to look into his hand and saw a small beetle made of wood. ,,Well… it's really cute, the dots are pretty," she said quickly and even though she could almost imagine that he saw things his way, she had to admit that the idea that he had a whole display of cute little insects made of wood was cute.

He nodded as best he could and suddenly clasped her hand, ,,Here, watch Lisa, I'll show you the others," he said and turned away, looking under pillows and other stuff for other animals from his collection.

Holding the little beetle in her hand, she listened to the other names and phrases of the big one, who could barely get in and despite everything, she had never seen him so happy.

The way his eyes lit up, the joyful way he moved back and forth to reach for the insects and his surprised expression of curiosity when she handed him the cage, ,,I knew you liked the butterfly rings, I thought it was for the collection," she confessed and looked away a little ashamed not only to have interrupted him but also to have been so directly surprised.

He dropped his "insect" and concentrated solely on the cage in his hands before he opened it and took the pink sugar butterfly, which began to fly around in the bow. ,,That's beautiful…thank you dear," the older man said and before she knew what was happening she felt his hands on her shoulders and a soft cloak as he wrapped her in a hug.

A heartfelt hug, a hug full of thanks and a hug that made her so happy that it made him feel good. He slowly disengaged and his attention turned to his latest possession, which flew back and forth between them.

She smiled at Kinger glad that he was so happy and yet the hand still detached itself from her shoulder on the contrary the longer he counted, the more time passed and the more exhausted she became she eventually closed her eyes for just a moment he sat down next to her to serve as a backrest while a soft warm cloak wrapped itself a little around her, ,,Good night little butterfly" he said blue-eyed before his mind focused back on the sugar insect fluttering around him. A sign of her devotion and a sign that he was far from losing his mind completely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc kinger #tadc kinger x reader #the amazing digital circus kinger #kinger #kinger x reader

[aaandbackstabbed]

Goldie needs to be able to one up Scrooge (it’s practically an addiction). So when the twins arrived and she hated them she needed a new approach. And she already had stocks in Scrooges business and maybe she’s been neglecting them sooo perhaps she should pay some special attention.

#wink wink #that’s right #Goldie decided to be a business woman in the 90s #((not that she wasn’t already she had a successful hotel empire by this time but still)) #there was no way she’d gone the entire 60s 70s and 80s regularly interacting with Scrooge #((that’s right I said it they spoke regularly for 30 years fight me)) #only for her to allow them to go back to no contact #just because some stupid kids live there now #nah ah #she will get her fix one way or another #and if means sporting business suits instead of her usual adventure gear then so be it #and if she happened to use this to her advantage #to say show off her assets #((or maybe just feel clean rather than dirty and sweaty when she was him)) #like Goldie is fashion icon #we all know this #so when I say she turned up looking her absolute BEST #I need you to know how badly I mean this #ugh I wish I could draw #I would show you guys all the outfits that are in my mind rn #goldie o'gilt #scrooge mcduck #ducktales #scroldie #the duck twins #Goldie is addicted to inconveniencing Scrooge #nothing will stop her

[loserifer]

i survived another week under capitalism's thumb. w me. anyway, here's some Tension >:)

Page 5/?

First | Previous | Next

reblogs are appreciated!!! 🕺🕺🕺

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel sara #hazbin hotel fanart #fanart #hazbin hotel comic #comic #rays art #i noticed that sera doesnt really call charlie by her name... shes 'lucifer's misguided daughter' or "daughter of the morningstar' #her identity only seems to tie back to lucifer in sera's eyes #its very demeaning and although i dont think sera even realizes she's coming across that way... i do find it very interesting #i like to think she does the same thing to lilith #lilith isnt 'the queen' or 'the first woman'... shes 'lucifer's wife' #and thus lucifer's importance is exaggerated and those related to him are underrepresented #especially since both charlie and lilith care about demonkind and have radical ideas #and while lucifer USED to be the same way... his sense of self has been crushed (at this point in time) #thus making him easier to manipulate #again i dont think sera even realizes this is something she's doing or taking advantage of as her intentions are not 'evil' #but its still happening #thats the consequence of a 'the end justifies the means' mindset

[little-pondhead]

For your villain au, what if Daniel is still a bit unstable an likes to take naps as just a sentient pile of goo. Danny finds this out and keeps a giant breaker in his lab in the DC universe specifically so his daughter could sleep without getting everywhere.

Now imagine some of the heroes break in to his lab while Danny is running errands or something and see this giant breaker of green goop labeled “Daniel” and just assume the worst. Danny comes back to a lab full of hero’s looking ready to murder him with tears in their eyes and calling him a sick bastard and such. Danny is so confused by the angry screaming until they all hear a tired yawn from behind the heroes. They all turn to look at a sleepy, very much alive and semi human Daniel, looking at them from inside the glass and asking her dad what’s wrong. He tells her that everything is fine and that she can go back to sleep. She just shrugs and turns back into goo before the horrified heroes

This, of course, only solidifies the theory that Danielle is a test tube baby created because the Trio wanted a child. I mean, why hire a surrogate when Fenton is a mad scientist in every sense of the word?

#pondhead replies #supervillain danny au #villain! everlasting trio #dani figures out later what the freak out was about #and uses this to her full advantage #whenever the heroes 'rescue' her #*coughplaydatescough* #she'll just go ahead and turn into goo whenever she wants some alone time #or just a regular nap #or if she just wants to go home #no one has figured out how to STOP her from turning to goo #so they give her back to Fenton pretty quickly when that happens #hey just because Dani is getting the childhood she never had #doesn't mean she still isn't a menace #she's just outright sneaky about it here #dpxdc

[cerise-on-top]

Hi love bug! It’s me for the 4766463 time😝 can I request a farah with reader who it vary vary forgiving like no matter what someone does to them they are quick to forgive which often gets them hurt 🫶🏻🫶🏻

(Sorry if this doesn’t make sense btw😭😭)

Welcome back! Sure you can, I hope what I wrote is alright! She definitely won't be gentle with you forever on this one, though, since you do need to learn to take care of yourself as well!

Farah with a Forgiving!Reader

Depending on how someone has wronged you, Farah might get very pissed about you being very forgiving. You’re a goddamn treasure, act like it. If it’s just something small, such as someone simply bumping into you, then she won’t get mad, it can happen to anyone. If someone had to postpone your meeting because something came in between, then she won’t get mad either. But if someone seriously hurts you, then she’ll be pissed about it to no end. She’s not afraid to snap at the person hurting you, she’ll give them a piece of her mind in a very vulgar and honest way. You deserve far better than that. You’re lovely, you really shouldn’t be treated like trash. But Farah definitely won’t stand by idly as you’re being walked all over for no other reason than you being too forgiving. She’ll pull you aside and give you a piece of her mind as well. Although it may seem harsh since she won’t be sugarcoating her words this time, she means well. Realize your worth, she already has a long time ago. If she has to intervene between you and someone taking advantage of your forgiving nature, then she will, but she won’t let it slide forever. She will make you be vengeful eventually, even if it goes against your nature. Farah will convince you that you don’t have to be nice to everyone around you all the time, you really won’t get too far in life like that. That’s something she had to learn the hard way, and she’ll teach you such in a slightly more gentle way than how she had to learn it. People will compensate you for causing you trouble. While she may seem relentless about it, which she is, she just wants you to not be a doormat for everyone. Because even if you lie down on the ground for people to walk all over you, they’ll still complain that you’re not flat enough. You will hold grudges, you won’t forgive as quickly at some point, she’ll make sure of that, because not forgiving some people is a form of self care in and of itself. You’ll come to realize that eventually. But until you get there, Farah will be there for you and speak up for you if you need it.

#cod #cod x reader #farah karim #farah karim x reader #I'm also a very forgiving person but I'm really working on that one since I hate people taking advantage of me #it's been working out well for me and I've become more confident since #it's still a long ways ahead but I'll get there eventually #being forgiving is nice sometimes but it won't get you everywhere I learned that the hard way unfortunately #while Farah would be supportive of you still she won't let you be this way forever #it would annoy her to no end that you keep getting hurt and she will prevent that from happening to the best of her ability #however you do need to work on yourself as well. she can't do all the work on this one #but she will do what she can to have you be less forgiving. one day you will only forgive the people who deserve it and no one else #one day you will realize that you deserve better. that's her goal #she knows getting there is rough but she'll help you along the way. you will get there #either on your own or with her. but you mean too much to her to just be used to like that

[tweedstoat]

I understand why you don't want to be fighting for your life in the comments but your Robb/Rhaenys fic with Rhaenys going to look at the Helen of Troy of Westeros and seeing a normal 16 year old sounds like it whips

Thanks anon you get me. Arrange a secret PO box and I'll write it and mail it to you

#she steps out of that carriage expecting to be greeted by wall to wall supermodels and instead the best looking person there is #*checks notes* a Tully from Rivverrun #record scratching noises happening in her brain at that second #she expects handsome squidward when she sees ned and she gets a shy greying 35 yr old man #benjen: none of us are wildly good looking u know. ur father ran off because its easy to take advantage of a desperate 16 yr old #rhaenys: youre hiding the hotties. i know u are. wheres the secret cache of baddie starks? do you have a second crypt?

[ladymacbeths]

yeah um No actually i think that any1 who reads macbeth as “good guy who’s manipulated into murder by his ambitious wife who Uses him” should 1. die 2. be forbidden from speaking about this play Ever bc ur doing Both of those characters a disservice

#j.txt #macbeth #been looking stuff up for a Post and well- i Saw Things #+just been thinking about this lately #and how so many like. discussions about ladymac lack this nuance #and don't try to get to the ROOT of her character beyond oooo she's evil and cold and etc #and the not-so-subtle misogyny of it #this one-dimensional interpretation that puts all the blame on her makes macbeth a hero #his flaw here is simple cowardice which makes us pity him and hate ladymac who took advantage of it #if we dare to see past this lady macbeth evil take-- perhaps even dare to say it isn't even true-- we see her as a full nuanced character #and when that happens macbeth regains blame for what he does #his downfall is entirely his. and we have no Evil Woman to blame for it. #this is not rly @ anything i saw on tumblr particularly but like. on youtube and such

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Another Good transition shot. Not the best but still pretty good.

Love how he's like "pft I'm bored let's go home" as if it's not a big deal to be letting Robin Hood go.

SHE'S HUGGING HIM!!!!

LOOK AT THE SHOCKED EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE!

AND HIS CUTE LIL SMILE WHEN SHE WALKS AWAY!!!

😭😭😭😭

😭😭😭

God.poor rumple here. His sadness leaking through is killing me.

She's literally like "you're too nice for me."

Babes.

Cmon.

THERE'S STILL A POINT!

SHUT UP!!!

BUT THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE SCENES IN THE CARTOON!!!!!!

And not to judge rumple, but just this lil shot... lot of empty shelves.

Looks like I have more books than you here.

HER SMILE AS SHE GRABS HIS LIL POINTY FINGER!!!!

HE DID SOMETHING NICE FOR HEEEEER😭😭🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

Here comes Mr. Gold beating ass with his cane of doom.

And here comes Belle Lacey being glad he's beating ass.

Lacey has some real openness about her liking bad boys.

🎶Cuz i may be bad but im perfectly good at it sex in the air i dont care i love the smell of it sticks and stones may break my bones

BUT CHAINS AND WHIPS EXCITE MEEE🎶

BUT NEAL CARRYING HENRY 😭😭😭

OH SHIT THEY HAVE HOOK NOW WHAT ARE THEY GONNA DOOOO???!?!!!

#okay we all knoe belle is a kinky lady #but lacey is bringing all the kinks out to the open #and when belle comes back rumple can use them to his advantage #i just love the fucking rumbelle development here #he's a beast then doesnt kill robin hood then GIVES HER A LIBRARY #MEN TAKE NOTE #WE WANT LIBRARIES #something my husband hasnt realized though we have 4 bookcases of books and 2 mores worth of books in storage #i love his little just shocked expression when she hugs him #like WTF IS HAPPENING?? I LOVE IT BUT IM CONFUUUUSED #and her FACE WHEN SHE'S GRABBING HID FINGER IN THE LIBRARY #SHE IS NOT HAVING PURE THOUGHTS #rumbelle #sassy bitch rumple #flirting disaster rumple #belle x rumple #ouat rumple #rumplestiltskin #lacey ouat #ouat belle #belle french #flirty belle #oh yeah other stuff happens in this episode too but i focused more on rumbelle #naturally #ouat #once upon a time #lem watches ouat

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya and Rethel both have a favorite method to ward off any potential suitors, and it’s dueling.

#hc; kaeya #hc; rethel #//Wanted or unwanted; it’s the same for the most part. They won’t tend to accept any suitor who can’t best them in a duel #//Rethel in particular favored this after many started approaching her father for her hand; & he suggested she consider them for self-gain #//Still; she stubbornly demanded only those worthy enough to best her can have her; no gifts or sweet poems could sway her otherwise #//Other family members begged her to reconsider; but Anfortas agreed w her bc she claimed it was to ensure their line continued Strong #//Only the BEST for the Alberichs. @ the rate she was going tho; she was likely to end up a spinster. Not that she or Anfortas saw any issu #//Kae does this; bc he got spooked to hell and back bc a slew of marriage offers after Crepus’ death #//Bc folks claimed he ‘needed’ support after everything that happened; esp considering Crepus was slandered. That it would ‘BENEFIT’ him to #//Bc Luc wasn’t there to help get them off his back nor to actively secure of Luc’s hold as the Ragnvindr head for himself #//Some people assumed Kae would be it and made their move to take advantage. which Kae DETESTED for many reasons #//The biggest ones being ‘how DARE they assume HE is the new head of the family now that Diluc’s gone’ #//And ‘Oh stars; oh fucking he’ll; he does NOT need this; HE of all people does NOT need nor deserve to be married; oh fucking SHIT-‘ #//But yeah #//Both trained quite rigorously to ensure their independence; not ONE person has bested them since #//Esp since they both will pull out all the stops to ensure it; even playing dirty when need be #//Kae is more lax abt this tho—there’s a higher chance of him making an exception if he likes the other enough. & they are ‘safe’ enough #//Of the other muses; Xianyun; Beidou; and Dehya DEFINITELY do this to be done with unwanted suitors; Period. Xian; mostly to test ppl #//Idarias used to as well; but that was before the karmic debt made her more inclined to just try & kill anyone she comes across #//Xian & Ei would follow Kae & Rethel; in terms of dealing with suitors/testing if worthy. In Ei’s case; she’s too focused crushing on Miko #//Sb who CAN beat her can change her mind; or at least if they put up a good enough fight; they can shift her attention onto them #//Taru; honestly the fight is a prerequisite just to get his favor/attention at ALL #//Will NOT be willing to get genuinely close with much less accepting/choosing to court ANYONE unless they can manage to hold their own #hc; cloud retainer #hc; beidou #hc; dehya #hc; indarias #hc; ei #hc; tartaglia