#and she's. not terrible at it. she's used to being discrete and working well

[youraveragecatastrophe]

We’ve talked in the past about Julia’s red shirt (in her season 1/season 4 outfit) showing her sympathy towards Carmen. What about other parts of her outfits?

First, to contrast with the red shirt peeking through her dark pantsuit, we have Julia’s ACME suit.

[ID : two cropped screenshots from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. The first one shows Julia Argent on the train in India, in her dark suit with red shirt outfit. The second one shows Julia in Rio de Janeiro, in her ACME suit. End ID]

The ACME suits, being uniforms, are all the same (the biggest difference being skirts for the women vs pants for the men), the same way the agents are asked for uniformity, conformity and following orders.

The suits have no color apart from a navy so dark it’s close to black - in fact, depending on the lighting they look almost black and white. Quite like their way of thinking.

[ID : a screenshot from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. Agent Zari and Random White Agent stand on either side of a door. They are in the shadows and their uniforms look dark and desaturated. End ID]

As I noted on a previous post, at the same time Julia receives her suit and as such lets go of her red shirt, she is asked to renounce her feelings that Carmen is innocent. Season 2, where she almost exclusively wears the ACME uniform, is the one where Julia briefly doubts Carmen and struggles to reconcile following her superior’s orders with her convictions. Ultimately, when she does not manage it, she resigns (season 3) and as such goes back to her red shirt outfit. It is in that outfit that she teams up with Carmen in a substantial way in season 4.

Other agents (and, notably, agent Zari, the most featured ACME agent apart from Julia and Chase) tend to wear black gloves. In line with their behavior, this suggests keeping a distance with their environment, refusing to feel things too deeply. Julia doesn’t wear gloves, however, not even in Stockholm where the weather would definitely justify it. Despite Chief's insistance, Julia keeps paying attention to her feelings.

Then, Julia’s glasses. Her glasses in seasons 2-3 are ACME regulation eyewear : once again, they’re part of the uniform, so the same model as the other ACME agents. Big, bulky, they’re almost rectangle in shape, all sharp angles : this suggests rigidity and an absence of flexibility in ACME’s mentality. Also note the dark lenses : they symbolically obscure the vision.

[ID : a screenshot from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. In Indonesia, Zari and Random White Agent stand against the sky. Their glasses' lenses are noticeably very dark. End ID]

And what about Julia’s original glasses, the ones she wears before joining ACME and those she returns to as she leaves ? They are the exact opposite of the ACME glasses : round and clear, what you need to look at the world as it is.

[ID : a cropped screenshot from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. In San Francisco, Julia wears her red shirt outfit with her round glasses. End ID]

#carmen sandiego 2019 #julia argent #if you think i'm reading too much into this. yeah. i'm me. reading too far into tiny details is what i do #(though tbh i keep going from 'this is reaching right?' to 'this is so obvious i'm breaking down an open door' so...) #and let me tell you i'm having the time of my life #you wouldn't imagine the glee i felt thinking about this #mentally i'm lying oin my bed giggling and kicking my feet as i type this #that post wasn't lying. the most fun a girl can have is analyzing making connections seeing patterns etc #anyway with all that (see: post) in mind if i had been in charge of the show i would a. have put julia in a uniform with pants #oh my god that skirt is the ugliest thing i've seen in my life. #also i want julia to be butcher #b. maybe more importantly i would have made julia wear her uniform sliiiightly wrong #like sometimes her tie isn't well fastened. or her vest is partially unbuttoned #or like that moment in rio where she says she still believes in carmen's innocence and her glasses are low and she has to recenter them #(they sort of have that with the gloves but she's not the only agent not to wear them so it doesn't really go all the way) #idk. like she tries to fit it tries to just put her head down and work tries to get into that mold acme wants her to be in #and she's. not terrible at it. she's used to being discrete and working well #with only a quick look you think she's perfectly in line with the other agents. a closer look however tells you otherwise #and shows you how she's not quite at ease with what's asked of her and it makes her miserable #which leads to her leaving acme later #do you see my vision

[seospicybin]

DON'T THEY KNOW IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD?

PART I

Lee know x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II

Synopsis: Making a contact with an ancient object, you meet a demon who takes form of the man you desired and forces you to commit terrible acts to stop the world from ending. (14k words)

Author's note: I indulge myself with a spooky fic and demon Minho in it. Read with cautions and enjoy x

Based on an episode of Black Mirror. Content warnings: Violence, gore, mentions of abuse, assaults and graphic imagery. Reader's discretion is advised!

"Carving is easy. You just go down to the skin and stop." - Michelangelo

-

Oh, no! You're doing it again.

When you think you're talking in your head, you're actually talking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. It's even worse that your voice is echoing in the big chamber of the empty gallery.

They seem to not care about it or pretend to because Kim has just walked in to check everyone's work. She's your friend from art school turns an art dealer and she has a way to control everyone around her.

"I told you to let us do it for you," she says, clicking her tongue at you and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

The gallery is having some of your pieces of art displayed for the exhibition tonight and you want to make sure that they're presented the way you envisioned it.

You carefully step down the ladder and stand next to Kim, looking at the sculpture you made of a man holding an arrow with an apple stuck at the end of the arrow.

You hear Kim dreamily sigh then look at you, "You're going to sell..." She pauses to emphasize the word she's going to say next, "Big!"

Money isn't the reason why you create these sculptures but you need it in order to keep being able to do this. You have no idea how expensive a block of stone is!

The reason why you made these sculptures is because this is what you love doing: envision your imagination onto a block of stone and you carve it to bring it to life.

Why did you choose stone as the medium? Because they're durable, stubborn yet resilient. It takes time to create one sculpture but once you've seen the result, you forget about the hard work behind it.

Kim puts her hand on your shoulder and snaps you out of your reverie, "Stop worrying about your sculptures," she says.

She turns you around to force you to face her and puts her other hand on your shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Put some color on those cheeks. Have a pre-party with a glass of wine or two."

Dressing up sounds like a lot of work, you'd rather stay in your dungarees and striped top, "Can I just wear these?"

It's like she has just heard someone dies, Kim's hand flies to her temple and screws her eyes shut for a second, "Trust me when I say that the people coming tonight wouldn't expect the artist behind these magnificent sculptures to look like Chucky," she says with a sneering smile.

She squeezes your shoulder and tilts her head to the side, "And that's me putting it the nicest way possible because you're my friend."

It's still a mystery how you ended up friends with someone like Kim, she's the opposite of what you are, an extrovert, a tolerable narcissist, she likes attention and is forthright to the point it's borderline insolent. You're so used to her audacious way of treating you and the blunt words that come out of her red-lipped mouth.

She's been like this even before you met her and you are the friend who likes to suffer in silence, you think that's why you became friends. Nevertheless, Kim treats you better than she treats anyone else for that matter.

That explains why the gallery staff are so afraid of her. It's always best to get out of her way unless she wants you to be there. You pick up your bag from the floor along with your jacket.

"I'll go then," you meekly say.

She grabs your elbow before leaving, "Go home," she says with a glare.

"Home. Not your studio," she says again, making it clear to you.

She knows you well enough to know that you like spending your days in your studio instead of your apartment. You sling the strap of your bag on one shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Come to the exhibition late," you repeat the things she wanted you to do.

Kim smiles and gently cups your cheek, "Good girl. Now go!"

Once you get home though, you spend hours just sitting in the emptiness that lingers in your apartment that is too big for one person to live in it.

This is why you prefer to stay in your studio, you like to keep your head occupied rather than being alone with your thoughts like this.

And your thoughts, they're mostly of unkind things and...

Your phone rings from inside your bag and steers your mind back to your head. Without having to look at it, you can tell who it is. There are no other people who call you daily except, well, if it's an emergency call.

"Are you getting ready yet?" Kim goes straight to the point.

"Uh... yeah, I just showered, I—" you jolt awake from lying down on the sofa.

"I'm having problems picking what to wear," you add a laugh in the hope of sounding convincing.

There's a wave of laughter from her end of the phone call before Kim talks to the phone, "Stop joking. Do you like it?"

You get completely confused because she suddenly compliments herself out of the blue, "Huh? What?"

You can hear her dramatic, low sigh and you can imagine her subtle eye roll as she's doing it, "The dress. The one I hung in your closet," she tells you.

You quietly trudge your way to the closet and open it to find the said dress.

"Yes, it's beautiful!" You hurriedly say, not wanting to let her get suspicious as she waits for a response.

"Aren't you lucky to have me as your friend?" she exclaims, sounding so confident with her words.

"I am the luckiest," you tell her as you observe the dress and already regretting hastily approving the dress as you notice it has a plunging neckline.

"I know," she brags and her smirk flashes through your head.

In the background, you hear something is calling her and Kim answers with a shout, "I'm coming."

She dramatically sighs before talking to you, "Work is calling. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, see you tonight!" You're more than relieved to end the phone call with her.

It's too early to celebrate as she hasn't ended the call yet and she always ends the call first. You have an inkling that she'll call your name.

Indeed, she is.

"Hey, don't forget to take your meds, okay?" She says.

That's probably the only yet the most endearing thing she does to you and what makes her your friend.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," you tell her.

It's time to fully assess the dress and you're in awe of how much skin you'll show if you're wearing this. Of course, you have the option not to wear but it all comes down to wearing the dress or facing Kim's wrath.

The former seems to be the safer choice and also because you're not a confrontational person, you like to avoid conflict.

Not wearing the dress means you're going straight into conflict and you don't want that.

With a defeated spirit, you put the dress on even though you have no idea how to move in such a tight dress. You summon up your below-average make-up skill for tonight and put some colors on you.

Not forgetting Kim's words, you take your medicine and wash it down with a long gulp of water. You give yourself a few minutes as you wait for the medicine to work while you sit on the couch holding a glass of water in both hands, staring out at the view from your apartment.

Kim insisted you take this apartment when you're okay with living in the studio. Not only that it's too expensive of a place to live on your own but a big place only makes you inexplicably lonely.

However, after seeing the view from up here, you feel like you're not part of this world in the most humbling way. Seeing the city and the buildings look like pieces of block makes you realize that they don't matter that much. They're all just... material things.

You sigh as you get hit by a wave of melancholia and you take it that the medicine is working.

-

Uncomfortable walking out of your apartment in your dress, you put on a coat as you leave the apartment with the sounds of your heels clicking against the floor.

The owner of the building passed away yesterday, there are so many guests visiting the penthouse where he lived. The first elevator that arrives on your floor is crowded so you skip on getting on that one. You patiently wait for the next one to arrive while clutching your purse in front of you.

A minute later, the other elevator arrives and the doors slide open, you see there's someone else inside. You believe he's been from the penthouse from how he dressed in all black.

You look down to avoid eye contact and step inside, standing at the back of the limited space while trying not to look at the man's face on the reflection from the mirror that walled the elevator.

Arrived in the main lobby, the elevator dings open and the man doesn't waste time but walks out with hands shoved inside his coat pocket.

You fix your coat before stepping out and you feel your feet kicking on something, it's clattering across the floor. You bend down to pick it up, something that you guess is a pocket watch.

Your first thought is that it belongs to the man and you look around to see if he's still around to give it to him, but he's nowhere. It's as if he's gone with the wind.

"Miss, your driver has been waiting outside!" The concierge informs you from behind his desk the second he sees you.

"Yes. I'm coming!" You hurriedly shove the pocket watch inside your purse.

As Kim instructed, you come late to the exhibition and it's already filled with people dressed so impeccably for the occasion. You take a deep breath before entering the scene that is the least you wanted to be.

You take your coat off and hand it to the girl handling the coat check, along with your purse. You feel naked even though you're not, but it's not just the dress, being in the crowd is not your forte.

The first thing to do in a situation like this is to find Kim. You avoid making contact with everyone you're walking past as you look for her in the crowd. It's not hard to spot her when she's always the center of attention anywhere she is.

"There she is!" She gasps the moment she sees you're coming her way.

She puts away her champagne flute and walks up to you, embracing you like the trophy you are, "My rising star!"

Kim puts her hand on the small of your back and smiles brightly while discreetly judging your look.

"Isn't she amazing?" She brags you off to the group of people she's talking to.

You can only sheepishly smile next to her and avoid everyone's eyes.

"She is the artist behind those magnificent sculptures," she adds with that saccharine smile of hers.

They're starting to throw praises at you and you can hear all of them talking at once, making you more uncomfortable staying in there.

You take a step back but Kim's hand does not allow you to escape, she glances at you and takes the cue.

"Excuse us," Kim says to everyone, "Enjoy the exhibition!"

Kim steers you away and pulls you aside, before you can comment on her choice of dress, she snatches the chance from you.

"You could've picked nicker shoes," she whispers through her gritted teeth at you.

You automatically look down to see your heeled shoes which you think match the dress you're wearing.

"I–I think it's—"

She cuts through your words, not giving you a chance to explain. She grabs you by the elbow, "We have no time to change it," she says, then steers you somewhere.

As Kim continues to brag you around like you're the art piece instead of the artist, you start to get that feeling that she's using you.

As a matter of fact, she used you to propel her career as an art dealer. Ever since you agreed to let her sell your art for you, her career took off.

You're more than happy to be of help but she does everything extra and she's been taking you to meet a lot of people that their faces started to blur and it's getting overwhelming that you need to get out of it.

"I'll just—" You barely finish your sentence when you walk away and find somewhere to gain some composure.

You keep walking until you find the restroom and push yourself inside, lock yourself in one of the stalls just sit on the toilet, and just breathe.

You hear the ruckus outside the stall and someone probably needs to use the toilet, you reluctantly get up to start heading outside.

The plan to leave unnoticed comes to a failure when Kim is already there right outside the restroom, "Where have you been?"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and try to explain, "Kim, I don't think I can do this anymore. I—"

Then again, she never let you finish your sentence, "One more. I need you to meet your new potential buyer."

You grip the side of your dress and you feel like tearing it apart, "No, Kim. You know how I do with people, I don't— I just want to go home," you desperately tell her just to let you go when you're an adult and can do whatever you want.

Kim lets out an exaggerated huff and sends her fringe flying off her forehead, crossing her arms in front of her and you know what's coming for you.

"You think I'm doing this for me?" She asks.

Actually, yes. The initial plan is to sell your art but in the end, she makes it all about her.

"I'm doing it for you!" She says, turning it all on to you. She always finds a way to turn it all on to you, making you feel guilty and defeated.

Talking back to her means that you're saying yes to war and you don't want to fight a losing fight. You fist the fabric of your dress trying to suppress the anger brewing inside you.

"Just one more person," you meekly say.

Her face softens at the sign that you're once again giving her the power, "That's right. Just one more and I'll let you go."

You finally let go of your dress and you wipe your sweaty palm down the back of your dress as she guides you back to the gallery.

"All you have to do is stand next to me, smiling and explaining your art to people," Kim instructed like that wasn't what you've been doing all night.

Except that she forgot that you need to fake all of that.

Kim takes you to one of your sculpture displays and three people in suits have been waiting, talking with drinks in their hands.

"Hello, gentlemen," Kim says with an extra polite voice that makes you shudder at how fake she sounded.

"Heard you're looking for the amazing artist behind these beautiful sculptures?" She continues, presenting you like you're the one who's about to get sold, not the sculpture.

One of the three seems to be the one in charge with a stance that oozes confidence and power, a smirk that only someone who grew up with a silver spoon stuck to his mouth can master. He looks years older than you but his face shows no fine lines but that's just because he never had to frown in his life.

"I adore your art so much," he praises with a teeth-baring smile.

Kim turns at you and introduces him, "This is Nicholas de Ville from the de Ville family."

The way she enunciated his last name only means that this person holds importance and she expects you to impress him.

He holds his hand out next with an expensive, shining wristwatch decorated his wrist, "I'm Nicholas de Ville. You can call me Nick."

He may seem nice and polite because all privileged people learn manners but they only apply that lesson in real life occasionally.

You take his hand or else Kim will force you to do it. You shake his hand for a while and accidentally meet his gaze as you try to take your hand back.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. de Ville!" You say as politely as you can.

"Nick, please!" He insists with a smile.

"And the pleasure is all mine." He adds with a smile that says so many things and they send a chill down your spine.

Kim lets go of her hand and lightly touches you on your arm, "Mr. de Ville wants to know more about your sculptures so..." she quietly pushes you his way.

Nick courteously laughs and says, "Would you be kind enough to give me the tour?"

You consider it for a moment but seeing Kim's glare, you know you have no option.

"Yes, sure, I would love to," you answer with a strained smile.

"Great! Please, lead the way!" Nick says.

When you think the other two are coming with you, it's just you and Nick, walking through your sculptures and you explain each one without trying to bore him like Kim has taught you a few times.

"... it's inspired by the Greek mythology. The apple in the arrow means that when it comes to love, we know no rules, we follow our desires—"

Nick is too busy looking at you instead of looking at the sculpture you're tirelessly explaining to him. Guessing that he isn't interested, you stop talking altogether.

"I'm sorry if I'm rambling," you sheepishly say to him and keep looking at the sculpture.

"No, no, that's okay," Nick says with a smile and takes a stand close to you, also looking at the sculpture.

"Your art is as beautiful as you," he says.

You're getting uncomfortable at how close he is with his elbow brushing yours. You nervously swallow air and lowly mutter, "Thank you."

Nick takes it the wrong way. He takes it that you're replying to his flirtation when you thought he was earnestly complimenting you, he starts to place his hand on your shoulder.

You reflexively shrug his hand away but that only sends his hand down to your back where he can touch your exposed skin. As his fingers make contact with your skin, you take a step back until his hand drops.

"I'm sorry," you regret apologizing for something that you didn't do wrong.

He looks at you as if he didn't just do something wrong or touch you without your consent. You feel repulsed by yourself and take another step back, "I'm sorry, I just need to—"

You keep walking away, away and never looking back.

-

The musty smell and dust that hang in the air welcome you to the studio.

You take your dress off the first thing you do when you get there and put on any clothes you can find in the dresser, a black T-shirt and worn-out jeans.

You put your earrings inside your purse and the pocket watch you collected earlier spills out of it, falling onto the couch.

You're intrigued to see inside the locket to get a hint on who the owner is, you're trying so hard to open it with the strength you have but it won't budge.

Exhausted from trying to open the antique-looking object, you give up and walk over to the sculpture you're working on. You put the pocket watch down on the table next to your carving tools, then pick up a chisel and a hammer.

For every hit of the hammer, you feel like unleashing something that makes you feel lighter and lighter and makes you hit the chisel harder and harder.

You eventually get exhausted and take a step back, leaning against the table while looking at the unshapen block of stone in front of you.

You grope around for a bottle of water and take a sip, putting it down as you wipe your mouth after. Your fingers nudge something as you place your hand on the table, it's the pocket watch blinking under the fluorescent light.

It seems to be calling for you, inviting you to try and uncover the mystery inside.

Looking at the small chisel next to it, you decide to give it another try by prying it open with the chisel. You slip the sharp end in the crack and use your strength to push it open only for the chisel to slide to the slide, cutting the side of your finger.

You drop the pocket watch as blood drops from the wound onto the table. It's not the first time you injured yourself, you know what to do. You go to the bathroom, wash your finger under the running water then grab your first aid kit from the drawer.

After tending to your small injury, you decide to not continue working when you're angry. You take another sip of water and lie down on the couch.

With the quiet that hangs in the room, you slowly drift into sleep.

-

SEVEN DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD.

The darkness greets you even though you have opened your eyes.

Pretty sure you kept one of the lights on when you went to sleep but it's all dark now in the room, you can't see anything but lights that shine through the cracks of the blinds.

You slowly get up from the couch to turn the light on, carefully walking to where the switch is, and once you flip it, lights flood the room.

The first thing you see is the pocket watch that is now open, you walk over to the table and pick it up to see inside that it's just a normal watch but it doesn't have numbers on it like all watches have.

You close it and see that your blood tainted the lid, this time, you can easily open it without a hassle.

"Hello!" A voice says.

Surprised to hear a voice coming from it, you drop it back onto the table. A moment later, you laugh it off, thinking that you misheard it considering that you just woke up from sleep.

With hesitancy, you pick the pocket watch again and look at it. Your thumb wipes the glass cover of the watch.

"Hi, Hello, I'm Minho. I'm a demon. You anointed this talisman with your blood so now we're bound together and—"

It speaks again and in response, you hurl it across the room until it hits the wall and drops onto the floor. You stand there, frozen on your feet, and wonder...

"Look, I've got a whole introductory speech here," the voice says again, coming from the part of the room where the pocket watch is.

For protection, you stand behind the open bathroom door and look at the pocket watch talking like a lunatic you are.

"We got to work together," it says.

You whimper hearing the voice again and you know that it's real, you're not making this up.

"Can you pick me up? Just pick me up. Come on, pick me up! Please?" It demands.

You take cautious steps to get to where the pocket watch lies on the floor.

"That's it, come on. Come on. I won't bite, I promise. Come on," it says as if it could see that you're coming to pick it up.

You swallow air and slowly bend down to pick it up from the floor, holding the pocket watch in your hand.

"As I was saying, you anointed the talisman and the rules are you've got to carry out three human sacrifices over the next seven days or else the world is going to end," it speaks again.

That's a lot of information to take in, not to mention that you're already having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that the pocket watch is talking to you.

"W-what?" You breathlessly say.

"If you want me to help you, you need to permit me entry."

Entry? That sounds like a bad idea. You just stand there and look at the pocket watch.

"Do you permit me entry? Yes or no?" It asks.

You shake your head and convince yourself that maybe it is not real.

"You have to say yes. Just say the word yes."

This is not real, you tell yourself out loud.

"Or let's do this, if you say yes, I'll... I'll stop, okay? I'll go away. You'll never hear from me again like this didn't happen." It persuades.

This is not real, this is not real, you chant in your head.

"Just say yes. Say it! Say it. Say it. Say it," it chants louder and it starts to fill your head, endlessly echoing.

You want it to stop so you impulsively say, "Yes."

The chants stop and the light flickers off, filling the room with darkness again. You whimper in fear as the pocket watch starts ticking in your hand.

You hear something deeply breathing a few feet from behind you. Curious, you spin around on your feet to see what it is, but you can't see it as it's lurking in the dark

However, you feel good about not being able to see it as fear creeping up inside you. You walk backward until you hit the wall behind you.

"Hey, come on, what's the matter?" The thing says as he takes a step forward, revealing his form to you.

The first thing you can make out the shape of that thing is two long horns on his head and two red eyes.

"All right. I lied about going away," he says in a deep, growling voice.

"My regular appearance is a bit too much for this realm."

He takes a step back and disappears in the dark. After a while, he takes another step to the front and has already taken a different shape. He looks normal now, as in looking like a human and not just any human, he looks like...

"I peered into your soul and apparently, this is a physical look you find appealing so..." he says with his arms spread out and a proud grin on his face.

"I don't know. Let me have a look!" He walks over to the mirror hung on the wall next to you.

He looks just like the sculpture you made, he has a sharp nose, chiseled jaws, and a hair color as intense as red roses go. You feel a mix of fear, awe, and confusion inside and it's getting overwhelming.

He leans close to the mirror and fixes his hair, "Wow!"

He seems impressed by how he looks, "Okay, isn't it what you want?" He turns to you.

Not getting an answer from you, he smiles, then says, "Uh... I mean, I can work with this."

You can only whimper with your mouth parted open, having a hard time wrapping your head around this situation. If it's happening or not, is he real or not, did you take your meds or not?

"You have to calm down so we can talk. Just talk to me!" Minho says, noticing that you're in a state of panic.

For a split second, you see his eyes flash like those belonging to feline creatures, gleaming like two marbles in the dark. You can feel cold sweat on your back as you slump down against the wall until you're sitting down on the floor.

He squats down in front of you and reaches for your head but you're quick to dodge away from it.

"You know, we have got to work together," he assures you.

It's not fair that he has a face that came from your imagination, it gives you a sense of familiarity that lures you to give in. However, you're not sure if you should be giving in to him.

You bang the back of your head to the wall, close your eyes, and repeatedly chant like it's a mantra, "You're not real. You're not real. You're not real."

But that is not enough to expel him. You open your eyes and still find him there. hand and a grin.

"Like I said, we have got to work together," he tells you again.

To give you the space to gather your thoughts, he walks around the studio while talking, "You marked the talisman. I don't make the rules."

With the lights turning back on, your eyes can easily follow his figure going around the room and looking at the sculpture you're working on.

His fingers slowly graze the rough surface of the carved stone and then he turns his head at you.

"Basically, we need to deliver three human sacrifices by next Friday or else it's..." he informs you again as if you haven't heard him the first time, "burning skies time."

You can feel anxiety rising inside you and your throat is closing up, making it harder for you to breathe.

"I sense you need convincing. Uh..." Minho walks up to you again and offers his hands to you.

You look at his hands for a moment before letting him help you to get up from the floor. You imagine your hands reaching for fragments of your imagination but instead of that, you feel his warm skin and firm grip as he hoists you up until you're standing on your feet.

If he's not real then how can you hold him?

He looks at you for a second to make sure you're okay then nods, "Let me show you how this will play out, alright? What will happen if we don't succeed," he says.

He walks to stand behind you and puts a hand in front of your eyes, "You ready?" He asks, his hot breath fans your neck as he speaks.

You're not sure what he's asking you to get ready for. You're not even sure if you're living the reality right now.

"Ready?" He asks again and once again his breath tickles your ear.

"3, 2, 1!"

As if you're being transported to another time and place, you open your eyes to see fire. It's the studio but it is on fire.

"This is what we're dealing with!" Minho says but you can't see him anywhere.

Fire is everywhere and you can feel the heat of it burning your skin and thick smoke filling your lungs that you start coughing, retching for air.

"Scorching wall of flame. It's agonizing death for all and so on," he continues.

You're flailing around to get air, walking to the window to open it only to find it hot to touch and you see that the whole city burns with you. You hear people screaming and sirens blaring everywhere but anywhere you look, it's just blazing fire.

You get away from the window until your back hits the table behind you and snaps you back to reality. Your head turns to the side and see Minho there, leaning against the table next to you.

"See, burning people they smell like... a burnt slice of meat on a griddle. It's better if you dissociate from it," he coyly says.

The images are so vivid that you feel the need to escape it, run away from here and so you do. You make a run to the door and he's already standing there next to it.

"If we're being honest, I don't want the apocalypse to come about any more than you do," he says.

You turn the knob and open it, running through the hall that leads to the exit door. Yet Minho is already there too.

"So let's stop it happening, you and me, mmh?" He says to you.

"All we have to do is deliver three sacrifices in seven days," he pops at the end of the hall.

You yank the door open and find him standing outside the door.

"It's only three killings," he says with a malicious laugh.

You rush to climb down the steps trying to escape what you know is like trying to get out of your head, it's inescapable.

"Animals don't count. You have to do humans," Minho informs at the base of the stairs.

You hurriedly unlock the iron gate and pull it open, running into the street in the middle of the night but of course, he's already there too.

"We can do like one kill a day but I'm good with one kill in two days and—"

You decide to go the other way from where Minho is standing and just aimlessly walking to avoid him. You know the neighborhood but not as good as when it's at night.

You walk down the stairs that lead to the riverbank, feeling more afraid of Minho instead of being mugged at night.

"That is fewer people than die falling off ladders in the same time period," Minho magically appears on the stairs, leaning against the railing.

"You'd be less lethal than a ladder," he adds with a sly smirk.

Your eyes are watery either from the cold wind or the anxiety taking over you. You sniffle before talking to him, "If I talk to you, you're real so I'm not going—"

You walk away before you can finish your sentence and walk along the riverbank, hugging yourself.

"Well, we started conversing already so that ship has sailed."

You can't believe that he's still following you when he knows exactly why you are trying to get away.

"No, it hasn't," you persist when you know he's right.

"Oh, oh yes it has," he talks back with a mocking tone.

You stop on your track and grunt in frustration, bending down to pick whatever is close to you.

Minho stops walking as well and says, "Don't worry. We're a team. I'm on your side, you know?"

He takes a step forward and keeps talking, ignoring that he's the reason why you're so frustrated.

"Let's just get kill number one under your belt, mmh?" He says in a softer tone.

You turn at him, your finger pointing right at his sharp nose and sternly tell him, "You can stop it because I am not killing anyone!"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and try to face him again, "You're not real so I don't why you keep talking to me," you snarl.

Minho coyly smiles at you and calmly responds, "That's what I'm here for. Moral support!"

He takes even a closer step to you and lowers his voice, "So, just hold on to that rock and hit someone with it!"

You get confused by what he said, "What rock?"

He eyes your hand on your side, "The one in your hand, love!" He answers.

You don't even realize you've been holding it until he pointed it out. The moment you know, you can feel its weight in your hand.

You gasp in surprise and glare at Minho, "I'm not doing what you say."

You hear footsteps coming from under the bridge and turn around to see a middle-aged man, "Are you alright, Miss?"

But Minho sees it as an opportunity, he stands and looms behind you, whispering evil things into your head.

"Mmmh... yeah," he hums in victory.

"He's perfect. No witnesses. Talk about beginner's luck," he whispers to you so close that it feels like he's living inside your head.

You feel his hand resting on your shoulder as he further persuades you, "Just one quick pop to the head and you're done."

For a second, you wanted to do what he said just so he could stop bothering you. However, the conscience in you is talking you out of it.

You walk toward the man and try to seek help from him, "Please, make him stop!" You say, gesturing to Minho who's standing right next to you.

The man looks confused by what you said and asks, "Make who stop?"

Disoriented by what's real or not, you keep looking back at Minho, then at the man, getting pushed to where you hit your limit.

The man walks up to you, feeling more concerned for you that he asks again, "Is everything alright?"

The relentless demon he is, Minho stands close next to you and whispers, "Would it help if I told you I can see into this man's soul and he absolutely deserves to die?"

This time you know it's his way to get what he wants, to get you to do the deed. You look away and hastily shout, "Shut up!"

Yet Minho keeps talking about the man as he's giving you a stare, one that you're way too familiar with, and convinces you that he thinks you're crazy.

"He has a wife and a daughter, you want to know what he does to them?" Minho's words hold intense hatred in them like you can feel the bitterness of it on your tongue.

You look at him to see if he's just tricking you to kill the man, "Don't trust me? Well, get a load of this!"

Minho covers your eyes with his hand again and this time, images of the man abusing his wife and daughter over and over again that you can't bear to watch anymore.

He snaps you back to reality again and says, "You'll save them both from years of pain, shame, and guilt."

Fueled by the rage from what you've seen through Minho's vision, you launch yourself at the man and hit him hard on the head, sending him tumbling to the side and into the river.

You stand there watching his body sinking into the water until the air stops bubbling to the surface of water and that's when you're certain that he's dead.

The man is dead.

Despite the shock, you manage to walk away while still carrying the rock in your hand, and once you realize you've been holding to it long enough. You throw it into the river then break into a run back to the studio.

You vomit everything into the toilet bowl once you're back in the studio, retching nothing but saliva and air.

Minho is standing at the doorway of the bathroom as he says, "It takes some used to but a couple more of that and I'll be out of your hair," he says.

You flush the toilet and sit on the bathroom floor, looking at him with teary eyes and the shock that hasn't left your body yet.

He pulls out the pocket watch and shows you that the Roman number written inside has gone one line, "See? One line has gone which means one sacrifice registered. Two to go."

You get up from the floor and drag yourself to the couch, feeling so drained by whatever has driven you to do unimaginable things, one that you thought you'd never done in your life.

-

Morning has passed but you can't find the energy to live for the day.

You're lying down on the couch watching the sky turn brighter with every hour passed. It hasn't sunk in yet what you did last night. It feels like a dream but at the same time, you can still feel the weight of the rock in your hand.

Minho has been quiet but you know he's lurking in the room and he decides to interfere by standing in front of you.

He tips his head to the side and asks, "How long are you going to stay like this?"

He then sits on the other end of the couch and says, "Well, you have to, at least, do whatever it is you do as a sculptor. You can't have people getting suspicious."

How come he takes it lightly? How did he get so calm after telling you to kill a man and watch you doing it?

"Fucking shut up!" You shout at him.

Talking to him makes everything unbearably real and it makes you recollect what happened last night. The guilt, the disgust you feel for yourself, the blood on your hands, you can see everything now under the daylight.

"I killed a man," you croak, saying it hurts that tears start to crawl out of you.

"I've killed someone," you meekly say with a tear rolling down from the corner of your eyes.

"Yeah, but that was hours ago," Minho nonchalantly says.

"I keep feeling the crack of his skull on the rock," you pause to sniffle and turn to look at Minho, "I did that."

But he wouldn't get what you feel because he's not a human in the first place. Minho is a demon.

"It's your fault. You're not even—" You stop talking because it's no use to talk to an entity that knows no compassion.

You brush your hair to the back and deeply sigh. Turning your head at Minho again to ask, "Why is this happening to me?"

You use the heel of your hand to press on your eye to stop crying, "I'm not a bad person."

"No, no, no," Minho quickly denies.

He moves to stand behind the couch and leans close to you, "It wouldn't work if you were. It has to be someone corruptible," he explains.

Your forehead wrinkles and forms a questioning look on your face, trying to make sense of what he said.

"If you think about it, what's happening here, it reflects really well on your character," he says with a smile.

What he said only assures you that you are a bad person. What you did is the reflection of what you truly are, a bad person.

You nod and wipe your wet cheek with the back of your hand. You get up to sit on the couch and grab your purse, rummaging inside to pull out your phone.

"What are you doing?" Minho asks with a panicked voice.

You dial the police line on your phone and show it to him, "Calling the police."

He jolts on his feet and sits next to you on the couch as you hit the call button.

"But why?" He asks.

You can hear the dialing tone ringing so close to your ear, "So they'll arrest me," you simply answer.

Minho nervously chuckles, "Then you won't be able to do the other sacrifices," he reminds you to rethink your choices.

"Good!" You shortly respond, trying to stay in your right mind this time.

"Then the Apocalypse will happen and billions will die. I know, I know, I get it. You don't want blood on your hand but if it saves billions..." He's babbling, desperately trying to stop you from turning yourself in.

The way he puts it that way, he makes you choose the lesser between the two evils. 

"Hello, police department, may I help you?" The operator speaks on the phone.

Kill three people who deserve it or save billions of innocent people?

You find yourself hanging up the call and putting your phone away, once again failing to do the right thing.

"See? You're a good person!" Minho says as he exhales in relief.

To be honest, you don't know what's good or bad, right or wrong anymore. It's one big blur to you.

You feel frustrated once again, you feel like a failure but on the bigger picture, you're trying to stop the world from ending.

But can you really save everyone?

-

You can't wait to dwell on everything in the comfort of your apartment. Before you can do all that, you need to set boundaries with him. You face him and look him right in the eyes, "I have six days to kill two more so please, give me a break for now."

Minho gets quiet for a moment before nodding in agreement, "That's fair."

Feeling the need to wash yourself from whatever it is clinging to your body, you get a shower and take your meds to help you decompress while sitting on the end of your bed in your bathrobe.

"I don't know why you take those pills," Minho says as he enters your room.

You quietly sigh at him and say, "Can you at least give me a few minutes until it's working?"

"Want to wash it down with wine?" He offers, showing the bottle of red in his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't drink alcohol after taking antidepressants," you answer, not sure why bother answering him.

"That sucks!" He says and puts the wine bottle down on top of your dresser, "I was thinking we could celebrate our first kill."

You feel a little faint at the mention of the word kill and celebrate being put in one sentence. You climb onto the bed and pull your duvet, "I need to rest."

Minho appears at the end of your bed, looking down at you with his dark, wide eyes, "That's right. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

"Can you turn the lights out for me?"

"Certainly."

The room turns dark but you get a newfound comfort in it.

"Goodnight," Minho's voice caresses your ears like a spring breeze.

You don't want to get used to this but you feel inexplicably at ease that there's someone else with you in this vast emptiness.

"Goodnight, Minho."

-

SIX DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

You jolt awake to the sounds of your phone ringing on your bedside table and you know who it is without having to look at the contact name. Your fingers are tapping the phone screen as you squint your eyes to make sure you hit the accept call button.

"Yeah?" You ask as you put the phone on the side of your face while you're lying on your side with your eyes closed.

"You're still sleeping?" Kim asks, noticing the sleep in your voice.

"Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.

"You know what time it is?"

"I don't know. Nine or ten?" You wildly guess by how badly you want to go back to sleep.

You hear her sighing from the other line of the call, "It's almost 2 in the afternoon," she says.

You force your eyes to open to check the time yourself and see that it is indeed two in the afternoon.

"Oh?" You innocently gasp.

Realizing that may piss her off, you hurried to shift the conversation elsewhere, "Yeah, uh... why are you calling again?"

You fear that she's going to be mad about you abruptly leaving the exhibition or worse if she knew about Nick. You hold your breath, anticipating her answer.

"Oh, yes, I have good news," she says with a smile that you can feel from your end of the line.

"You sold four sculptures, darling!" She squeals.

That's exciting news but you don't have it in you to participate in that excitement, yet you feel relieved you can properly breathe at ease.

"That's... That's great!" You meekly say while raking your hair to the back with your fingers.

"I've been calling you since yesterday, you know that?"

"Oh? I, uhm..." You take a moment to think of an answer.

Summoned a demon? Found out that you have seven days to the end of the world? Killed someone to stop it?

"I needed—"

"Never mind!" She rudely cuts you off, "Guessing from how tired you sounded, you must be going straight back to work, huh?"

The sculpture is still a chunk of unshapen stone but yeah, you worked on it just a bit. Well, a work is a work.

"Yeah, I-I did," you sputter your answer yet thankful that all of her guesses are off the mark.

"I'll come with the paperwork tomorrow. For now, you can rest now or work some more, knock yourself out," she says, couldn't care less about what you're doing now that you've made money and she got to feed on a few percent of it.

"Thanks, Kim!" You say, because it's better to always be on her good side.

"Oh, come on! We both working hard," she kindly refuses but you know she feels entitled to this.

"Let's have a dinner to celebrate," she suggests.

"Yeah, yeah," you half-heartedly answer.

"Talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Bye!"

You don't even bother to say it back knowing that she'll hang up right after she said her bye. Since you've woken up already, you sit up on the bed and pull your knees up, hugging your feet as you gather your thoughts.

In your peripheral vision, you see a flash of red from the doorway of your room. You turn to look and see Minho standing with the side of his body leaning against the doorframe.

The all-black outfit he's wearing makes his honey skin glow and his hair look like a blazing fire under the sunlight. He smiles once he notices your eyes are on him.

"Morning, sunshine!" He sweetly greets you with a smile that is a little unsettling but a whole lot attractive.

He crosses his arms in front of him, exposing the veins coiling his forearms, "Oh, wait, it's way past noon," he says with a grin.

Looking at him only reminds you of the responsibility you're carrying on your shoulders: saving billions of people from being incinerated.

"Are you always like this or...?" Minho asks, breaking the silence that hung in the room as you think of the dire situation you're in.

Minho approaches you and stands at the end of the bed, "You can't stay in all day. We only have five and a half days left," he reminds you of the time-sensitive quest you're in.

The only way to save those billions is by killing three people. That's the only thing on the pro list, there are just too many cons, mainly on the killing part. The only good thing that comes out of it so far is that you only need to do two more killings.

God! What have you become?

"What should I do?" You hopelessly ask him even though it's a bad idea to ask a demon such a question.

"Just carry on as usual so the people around you don't get spooked," he answers.

It's you and him, him and you, there's no one else you can seek help from.

Minho is right. You can't just sit here and watch the day goes by or else the thing you've done would come to a waste.

You slowly scoot over to sit on the edge of the bed and rub the sleep of your eyes, not ready to face the day when you know you only have six days left to stop the end of the world.

"And while we're going on about the day we can decide who to kill next," Minho adds.

The devilish grin looks beautiful on his sculpted face but everything he says sending a chill down your spine.

-

"Oh, an old lady!" Minho exclaims as an elderly lady enters the elevator.

You silently watch as he scoots closer to her and smells her head, "She smells like... oh! She's sweet."

You silently groan in the corner watching what he's doing.

He places his hand on the lady's shoulder and says, "She can't stop thinking about the end though. She can't wait for it to come."

He looks at you with that wild grin plastered on his face, "You'd be doing her a favor."

You lightly shake your head at him to make him stop playing around the poor lady but he doesn't get the clues.

"She dreams of death. Even now—"

"Shut up!" You say through your gritted teeth.

The old lady turns to look at you, "What is it, my dear?"

You quickly put on a smile for her, "Oh, nothing," you politely say.

Minho walks up to stand next to you again and whispers in your ear, "Just do it. No one will miss her."

"Shut up!" You whisper back while throwing daggers with your eyes at him.

"She's nearly dead already!"

Thankfully, the elevator dings open and shoots his idea down as you step out of the elevator.

"We need to start to pick someone!" He persists as he follows you walking in the lobby.

Minho is such a nuisance.

It's hard to ignore him when he keeps talking, making remarks about everyone he sees, and constantly around you the whole time.

It's when you're working on your sculpture that you get to immerse yourself in your work and disassociate from reality.

All you hear is the slamming sound of your hammer on the chisel and pieces of stone falling onto the floor. Looking down at the mess you made, you spot one particular piece of stone lying close to your feet. You stare at it for too long you get the recollection of that night.

The weight of the rock in your hand, how you bashed someone's head with it, and the splashing sound of the man falling into the water, all of that vividly playing in the back of your head.

You stagger backward and drop your chisel onto the floor, the clattering sound echoing in the spacious studio.

"I've been meaning to tell you this," Minho appears from behind the sculpture, startling you.

"We should order food," he suggests.

You put away your hammer and take off your mask, walking to the mini fridge to get a bottle of water.

"You're a demon. You feed on..." You think for a moment to finish your sentence as you unscrew the cap of the bottle.

He snatches the flyer stuck to the fridge door and asks, "Pizza?"

You close the fridge and walk over to the couch, plopping yourself down before chugging some water into your system.

"You need to eat so you can—"

"Kill?" You finish his sentence.

Minho scrunches his nose and sits on the armrest of the couch next to you, "I was about to say think but yeah, that too," he says.

You untie your pinafore and throw it aside, he isn't wrong to say that you need to eat. What's the point of saving the world if you're going to die of starvation?

You let out a sigh and grab the flyer from his hand, typing the numbers on your phone screen.

"Cheese pizza, please? With a lot of pepperoni!"

How can you believe that he's a demon when his choice of pizza topping is like a toddler's?

-

"Good evening, Miss!" The concierge greets you as he sees you enter the door.

"Hi," you greet back, impatiently wanting to get back to your apartment to dwell on your fate again.

"Miss Kim came by and dropped something for you," he informs, taking out a big envelope from your mailing box.

There's a faint sound coming from the small TV tuned to a news broadcast when you come to the desk to collect it.

"Here it is, Miss," he slides the big brown envelope across the shiny surface of the desk. There's a note on top of it which you immediately recognize as Kim's.

You open to do a quick check on what's inside when you hear a glimpse of the news from the TV.

"...man found dead in the river has been identified as Ben Watson, a financial officer of a bank company, leaving a wife and a seven-year-old daughter who has been notified about his tragic death..."

You glance at the small screen and see the photograph of the man you killed that night. You can't possibly be wrong about this when you remember the horror on his face as you lifted the rock before swinging it hard to his head.

"Is there anything wrong, Miss?" The concierge asks.

You snap yourself out of your daze and put the envelope close to your chest as if someone about to steal it from you.

"No, no," your voice is quivering in panic at the sight of the man you killed.

"Thank you," you abruptly the conversation with gratitude and walking fast to the elevator.

The warm water doesn't work to calm you down when you're tainted inside. You feel filthy, inside and out. You feel sick seeing your reflection in the mirror.

You've been holding your medicine in your hand but you need something stronger, you ditch the pill and run to the kitchen.

You pull out the wine you have in the kitchen cabinet and drink it straight from the bottle, chugging it like it's water. You gasp when you stop drinking, taking the bottle with you as you sit on the sofa while you're still in your bathrobe.

"This is how you're going to end the day?" Minho asks, taking the bottle of wine from you to take a sip.

"Can you stop talking about killing for just—" You choke on air as anger bubbles up inside you.

Minho holds his hands up in defeat and leans back on the sofa next to you, "I'm just saying..." he meekly says.

The silence only resides for a minute until he speaks again, "Look, the earlier you get it done—" he stops talking when you shoot him a glare.

You take the bottle of wine from him and take a long gulp, a drop of wine escapes the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

You aggressively wipe it with the sleeve of your bathrobe and recline on the sofa, looking out at the city lights that look like pinpricks in the dark of the night.

"I'm crazy..." you sadly remark.

Those words remind you of a sobering fact that what people think of you: crazy.

Ever since you were still an art student, people often found you talking to yourself in class, always in your little world with your imaginary friend. That leads you to this solitary life because normal people avoid crazy.

"People are right about me. I'm crazy," you state again, and saying it out loud makes your heart aches.

Minho turns his head and looks at you with his dark eyes that weirdly provide you warmth, "You're not crazy."

But why would a normal person kill a person because a demon told him to? You don't even know if he's real and not a product of your imagination.

"I'm a murderer..." you say with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart.

He scoots closer until he sits close next to you, his shoulder bumps with yours on the big sofa that could fit five people. He looks at you and gently says, "Yeah, but not a crazy one."

Minho has a way of looking at bad things positively. You chuckle at the irony of his words. You can't tell if you should be happy that you're not crazy or sad that you're indeed a murderer.

He slumps down on the sofa to be on the same level as you, also turning his head to look at the view, "Want to know something?"

Instead of answering, you take a sip of the wine. You know he'll keep talking even if you refuse him.

"This is actually my first assignment," he shares.

He drops his hand on the space on the sofa, merely inches away from yours, "It's more of an initiation, sort of earning my wings."

You look at him and get a little taken aback by the proximity you can see yourself in his eyes. You almost forget what you were trying to say to him, "What are you trying to say?"

You look away because he looks exactly like the one you envisioned on your sculpture, divinely beautiful that it's hard to comprehend.

"I'm saying that I'm new to this too," he answers.

Again, you can't tell if you should be happy or sad to know that. Strangely though, you find comfort in his words.

You look at his hand splayed so close to yours and it evokes the curiosity in you that needs to be fed. You gently flip over his hand and gently slip your fingers on the spaces between his fingers, you can feel the warmth and the roughness of his finger pads on each finger.

Minho is real, he's real, you perpetually assure yourself.

You glance at him and he's looking at you, your eyes meet in a tender gaze.

"Are you real, Minho?"

You're aware of how much that question weighs. If the answer is no, you know the insurmountable pain you brought onto yourself.

He slowly blinks and you can see his dark lashes fanning out so beautifully. His crimson-red lips open and says, "I'm as real as you want me to be."

Words aren't enough to convince you. With the despair filling your heart, you lean in and innocently put your lips on his. It's a kiss that feels more than just a physical act, one that you didn't know you needed.

After getting the reassurance that you need, you pull away. However, the hand lingering on your jaw tells otherwise. He touches your face with just his fingertips yet it's enough to send a tingle inside.

Slowly, he leans in to kiss your closed eyelids ever so softly and before you know it, he brings your face closer to place a tender kiss on your lips. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel the warmth no one has ever given you.

-

FIVE DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

"You wake up early!" Minho says as you dress up to get ready for the day.

You ignore his words, continue collecting your things around the room, and put them into your bag.

"Are you trying to match your clothes with me?" He says, looking at your all-black outfit while sitting on the headrest of the sofa.

This morning, you woke up on the sofa still in your bathrobe and a blanket covered your body. The first thing you remember is you kissed him last night and somehow, it convinces you to keep going with the quest.

However, you still feel conflicted with what you do. You need to make sure of one thing.

"How about this handsome fucker?" Minho asks, pointing to the other person riding the elevator with you.

The man looks indeed handsome, he dressed so impeccably when it's only ten in the morning. He catches you looking and smiles at you.

You politely smile back and look away only to face Minho who's standing on the other corner of the elevator.

"He'll be losing his hair at the age of 32 and spends the next 29 years taking it out on his wife," he whispers even though no one can hear him but you.

The taxi ride to the hospital only takes fifteen minutes and you know where to go right away from the array of flower arrangements outside the separate building from the main hospital.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I'm thinking?" Minho asks in a concerned voice.

You wish to be able to shut him up for a few minutes until you can find what you're looking for. The hall is packed with people in black attire to what you can safely assume are the guests of the mourning family on the two funeral services being held by two different families.

You read the sign that leads to the Watson family yet pretend to be the one visiting the other family. Before you can sneak into their funeral service, you see someone taking the daughter outside.

"This is a bad idea!" Minho panickly says.

It's kind of alarming to hear because it's the first time he sounded genuinely concerned. You follow where the little girl is being taken and turns out, she's being taken to the park outside, probably to avoid her feeling overwhelmed.

"You're not a relative. People will get suspicious of you!" Minho nervously whispers.

You come over to the two men chatting and kindly ask for a cigarette even though you don't smoke. You stand at the other side of the door and take a drag of the smoke to be seen convincing.

"I know you're worried..." Minho sighs.

He stands next to you with his head hovering close to your ear. He takes a breath before talking, "She's not in mourning. She's not not mourning," he says as you both quietly watch the girl sitting on the bench and drinking a juice box.

"Happy that it's finished but sad that he's dead. But it has finished!" He emphasizes the last word.

You take another drag and accidentally do it excessively, sending you into a coughing fit.

"You spared her another five years of it. A lifetime of therapy," Minho explains, "a lifetime!"

You look at him to see if he meant what he said. He's a demon after all, the vision he forced you to see could be misleading, a trick to make you do what he says.

He looks back at you and smiles, "She's a mom at 29. A nan at 57," he shares.

See? He knows how to comfort you even though you don't ask for it. You give up on pretending to smoke and stab the cigarette butts onto the big ashtray. You shove your hands into the pocket of your jacket and start walking away to the parking lot.

"Why are you telling me this?" You curiously ask.

He nonchalantly shrugs as he walks next to you, "I just thought you'd like to know."

-

"Did you see that?" Minho shouts as he leisurely watches TV with his feet up on the couch.

You pretend not to hear him and continue sculpting, hitting the hammer harder, louder to drown out his voice. As if he read your mind, he appears behind you and places both of his hands on your shoulders.

"You should see this!" He insists, steering your body and making you watch the TV.

It's a broadcast of night news about climate change and he magically changes the channel to show news about nuclear testing.

"It's manifesting. Do you understand?"

Minho keeps switching the channel to show you every bad there is happening in the world, everything that shows the sign that the world is close to ending.

You lightly shrug him off and say, "We got this kind of news a few years ago but—"

Minho holds you by the shoulders and shakes you awake, "This is real. We don't have much time and you're the only one who can stop it!" He reminds you of the harsh truth.

Somehow that only makes you question why you have to be the one to bear such responsibility. Billions of people on earth and they chose you?

"I'm not ready yet. I'm—"

"Don't you want to see that little girl live her peaceful future?" Minho asks.

This is where you know he's being the demon he is, using your weakness to his advantage and making you give in to the temptation.

It's not so much a temptation when you have no other options, it's killing or being engulfed in flames on Friday. You muster up your courage and think of something to do.

The first killing was what Minho said it was: a beginner's luck, the man happened to be there and an abusive bastard, even in his grave, he shall not rest in peace.

This time, you plan to do it meticulously and without mistakes. You walk to the kitchen and pull open the drawer, taking out a knife you occasionally use to cut your sandwiches.

Minho shakes his head in disapproval of your choice of weapon, "You're not a knife person," he concludes.

You look at him, demanding an explanation behind that haste conclusion.

"It's messy. You could hurt yourself," he explains.

That sounds right. You put the knife back into the drawer and look around the studio to find potential killing weapons.

Minho leans into your side and whispers, "Let's choose something that is more you!"

You look at him and see that he's eyeing the table full of your sculpting tools.

You pick up the medium chisel and show it to him to seek his approval. You meet another disapproval as he strongly shakes his head.

"It's too specific. They'll know it's you. You're the only sculptor living in the area," he gives you an insight into how the devil's mind works.

You must admit that he just saved you from making a mistake. You pick another weapon that you're familiar with but also gives you the upper hand to do the killing. You pick up the hammer and turn around to show him.

A smile rises on his face as he nods in approval, "That's you! You're a basher!"

You bring the hammer close and observe it, it feels good around your hand since it's a tool that you work with most of your life.

"You've had the practice now. It'll be easier this time," Minho says with a sinister smile.

You want to believe his words so much but the nerves get to you. Your breathing becomes erratic once you realize what you're going to do with the hammer.

Minho puts his hand on the small of your back and holds you steady, "Liquor courage! That's what you need! Booze!" He suggests.

"I don't keep any alcohol in the studio," you meekly say.

Considering that sculpting involves a lot of sharp objects, it's wise to not keep anything that would dull your focus.

"Also, I just took an antidepressant an hour ago," you inform him.

"Oh, shit!" He curses and leans his body to the back, against the table.

Minho crosses his arms in front of him, then rubs his chin as he thinks of something. He then leers at you with a smirk dancing on his face, "Well, do you want a drink?"

-

There's a bar a few blocks away from your studio.

You got here in need of liquid courage and there's plenty of them here. You plan to only consume enough alcohol just to calm the nerves but not too much to lose your focus.

It gets you anxious to step into a new environment. You decide to go straight to order drinks.

"Whiskey, please?" You say to the bartender with a handlebar mustache.

Bartenders tend to remember the faces they have seen and yours must not have registered into his memory bank. He puts away the cloth he's holding.

"You want ice with it?" He asks.

"I'll have it dry," you answer since you came here for the alcohol, not for refreshment.

"Easy, love. We have work to do," Minho reminds as he props a hand against the countertop.

Knowing that one drink wouldn't be enough and you don't want to bother the bartender again for a drink, you decide to double.

"Make that two, please!" You hurriedly say before the bartender starts making your order.

"You don't have to get one for me," Minho grins at you.

The bartender takes another glass with him to finally fill them with your choice of potion.

"I didn't," you whisper back at him.

You immediately pay for it and bring your drinks with you to the empty spot in the corner of the bar, hidden behind the pool table.

You slowly sip your drink and feel it running through your system, stripping a layer of senses off of you, making you less aware of your surroundings.

"Okay, you see anyone tasty?" Minho asks as he sits next to you.

He cranes his neck looking for the next human sacrifice among the people who are enjoying their concoctions. His finger points to the guy with a beanie and drinking a pint of beer.

"Oh, that one perfect!" He exclaims.

He stacks his hands on top of the table and leans forward as he further speaks, "Burglaries. Mostly target the elderly. What do you reckon?" He turns to you for opinions.

The alcohol is not quite there yet so you take a longer sip. You feel the alcohol burns your throat and you wince from the bitter aftertaste.

"No?" He asks as he looks at you.

You know he's asking about the human sacrifice, not the alcohol but the answer is the same, "No."

Minho moves on. His eyes are pacing around the room to study people and check their backgrounds with his evil power.

He taps your shoulder as he finds his next candidate, "See that girl with the pints?"

You can easily spot the girl with curly hair, carrying two pints of beer in her hands.

Minho leans in close to your ear to give his intel, "She went on holiday when she was 12 years old and saw her sister drown in a swimming pool."

He suddenly lowers his voice as he tells you the rest of the story, "She could have pulled her out but she just stood there and watched."

Maybe it's true that people are the scariest.

They may look ordinary and good and all yet inside, lies this darkness that they buried deep inside them. If Minho hadn't told you, you would have taken her as a pretty girl with a nice smile and nothing more.

Minho pulls at the sleeve of your shirt and points to another guy, talking to his friend by the pool table. You're about to wave him off again until the guy turns his head and you know who it is.

"How about him? He likes to secretly film girls by drug them and once he—"

"Sent a girl into overdose," you finish his sentence.

Everyone knows who Tim Shaw other than a student in our faculty and more importantly, people know what he likes to do to innocent girls yet no one dares to make him take responsibility for what he did.

Until one night, he drugged a girl and left her on the cold floor of a club, unconscious. There's no evidence that he drugged her or it was he drugged, ended up with him getting dropped off of all charges.

You have one more drink to finish and you gulp it in one go, wanting to use this opportunity to get back for what he did to that poor, innocent girl.

Minho triumphantly smiles, knowing that you have set a target on Tim's head.

"I think we have a contender," he concludes.

-

Tim is exiting the bar and you take it as an advantage.

You don't need to lure him out, you wait a minute before you follow him outside to not seem conspicuous. Once you're outside, you look side to side to see where Tim is going.

"Perfect location. No witnesses," Minho answers as you both find him turning to the back of the bar.

Tim seems to hear your rushed footsteps and turns around to see you. He seems to be taken aback and you doubt that he'll recognize you. Being crazy has its advantages, you're off the asshole's radar.

You nervously laugh as he looks at you. You quickly think of something to say, "Oh, my God! It's really you, Tim!" You say with fake enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry but who..." he gets all defensive.

"I'm—" You don't know how to explain yourself other than 'the insane one from art school'.

"Oh, wait, you're that girl, the sculptor, the... uh," he brakes before he can say the infamous title of yours.

"The freaky one?" You playfully say.

He bursts into laughter and nods, "Hey, don't get me wrong. I like freaky," he says.

Minho points to the carts of empty bottles and gestures for you to use them instead of the hammer inside your bag that weighs your shoulder the longer you're carrying it.

"I was just getting a drink but it doesn't feel good drinking alone," you lie even though that's how you prefer to enjoy your poison.

"Yeah, I bet," he says with a grin that showcases his whitened teeth and malicious intent.

"How about drinking at my place?" He offers.

"Home turf. Even better," Minho comments, appearing behind you.

You don't want to seem desperate to be with Tim because honestly, you're just stalling to find the perfect opportunity to kill him. It's time to put what you learned from Kim into practice.

"I, uhm..." you rub the back of your neck and shyly smile at him, "I don't think that's..."

As you pretend to consider his offer, he's secretly checking you out. His eyes travel up and down your body, you bet he thinks of lewd things even though you're dressed like a bible salesman with the same outfit you wore to the funeral service.

He takes a step forward and smiles at you, "I live not far from here. You can easily crawl back here if you think I'm a bad drinking partner," he seduces.

Tim must have thought you were as gullible as the other. Oh, he has no idea the surprise you have for him!

"If you don't mind, yeah," you say with a low giggle.

"Okay," he says with a triumphant smile.

His house is indeed only two blocks away from the bar and he keeps boasting about how he owns a house from his inheritance and the rising price of property these days.

"Please, come in!" He lets you into his house.

You step on a crumpled beer can as you enter the living room and are horrified at the amount of trash littering the place.

"A few friends and I watched a football match last night," he concisely explains.

He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack, "How about we drink in my room?"

You uneasily glance at Minho and he nods. You look back at Tim then put on a fake smile for him, "Yes."

He leads the way up the stairs and you follow him, climbing the steps with the hammer getting heavier and heavier inside your bag.

Tim turns around and sees you being hesitant, "There's no need to be shy now," he says with a lopsided grin.

You respond with a smile, keeping your head tilted up, and continue climbing up the stairs.

"Now!" Minho orders.

"Hit him with the hammer now!" He says again so close to your ear.

Your head snaps in his direction and hisses through your gritted teeth, "Shut the fuck up!"

Tim catches you talking and looks over his shoulder, "What's that?"

"Can't wait to see the bedroom!" You lie and add a giggle to sound convincing.

He smirks at you before pushing the door to his bedroom, "Come on in!"

His room is less messy than his living room in which he helplessly tries to make it seem tidy by flattening the pile of his duvet.

"You can sit down here," he says, patting the space next to him on the bed.

"You're not really going to have sex with him, are you?" Minho asks as he quietly watches you from across the bed.

A deadly glare is enough to answer him and he immediately refrains from pressuring you.

"I was just checking," he adds.

It's when you're in his bedroom that you start to fear Tim, not when you know what he is capable of. But at the same time, it fuels your hate fire, it reminds you of the reason why you need to eliminate scum like him.

"You keep your alcohol in your room?" You ask.

It's obvious that he took you here for different intention. He's taking you here for the sole reason that is to ruin your life.

"Oh, yeah, the drinks," he smacks his lips together and awkwardly paces in the room.

He reaches for the portable speaker on top of his dresser and turns it on, "You can wait for the drinks while listening to music," he says.

You nod, "That sounds nice!"

He gets out of his bedroom and heads back downstairs. While he's doing what you believe is spiking your drink with substance, you think of a plan on how you're going to kill him.

First, you take the hammer out of your bag and practice your swing. You get panicked with each second passed and haven't found a way to catch him off guard.

The footsteps on the stairs signal you that he's on his way here. You decide to do the classic way by hiding in the back of the door, planning to strike him from behind.

You see his figure entering the room, carrying two glasses of drinks in his hands, "It's your lucky day because I found a bottle of—"

Without thinking, you swing your hammer hard and hit him right on the side of the head. It's a weak blow and you can see that from how he's staggering backward, still conscious.

There's no turning back now that you have done it. You come charging at him, attacking him while he's still disoriented from the first blow.

He collapses onto the bed and not giving him time to recover, you keep hitting his head with the hammer with blood splattering the bed and wall with every swing of the hammer going onto his head.

You whimper as blood gets on your face and see that Tim is lying cold on the bed, dead. However, you land another blow just to make sure you've done it and leave no room for mistakes.

"You're good, you're good," Minho says from across the room.

That's when you stop and take a step back. It feels like your soul has left your body, you suddenly feel drained and the hammer drops onto the floor.

You look at the mess you made, the bloody mess and dead body, your life that is once far from all of it. Your throat suddenly closes up and you find it hard to breathe.

After a moment, Minho gets to your side to say, "You can't have that lying around," he's eyeing the bloody hammer lying on the floor.

With your mouth gaping for air, you bend down to pick it up and shove it back into your bag.

"Cleans anything you touched," Minho instructed.

You take a handkerchief from inside your jacket and use it to wipe surfaces you probably made contact with even though you're sure there aren't any.

You leave the bedroom after wiping the handle of the door and make a turn to the stairs when you hear the front door creak open.

You peek from the top of the stairs and someone is turning the lights in the kitchen.

"Get out before he sees you," Minho whispers.

It's bad when he needs to whisper like that even though no one can hear or see him, but you. The adrenaline is still pumping and you make the most of it by bracing yourself to make a run down the stairs and to the front door that is only a few meters away.

You take a deep breath before quietly descending the stairs without making any noise. You can feel your heart beating in your ear yet you keep going as the door is only a reach away.

You successfully land on the base of the stairs when your bag accidentally hits a flower pot, sending it breaking into pieces on the floor.

"Tim?" The man calls.

He looks at you with confusion drawn on his face, "Who are you?"

It's too late for you to break into a run as he sees your face and officially makes him an eyewitness. You can't leave an eyewitness, at least, not until you've done all three human sacrifices.

Is it necessary to kill him though?

You can think and consider as much as you want but it all comes down to the one question: kill or end the world?

-

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taglist: @svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @septicrebel @cursed-mars-bars @ppiri-bahng @drhsthl @tangylemonade @bluenights1899 @thisisnotstraight88 @elizalabs3 @avyskai @is2cb97 @simeonswhore @marvelous-llama @linovely @jisungsleftcheek @hanjisbeloved @luvsskzs @knowleeknow @army-stay-noel @djeniryuu @bigsobs4skz @toplinehyunjin @channies-luv @foxinnie8 @biribarabiribbaem @dalamjisung @moasworld @sherryblossom @fawnpeaks @lukeys-giggle @obeythemasters @primoppang @devilsmatches @skz-streamer @freckleboilix @idkluvutellme @laylasbunbunny @cherry-edibles @cutiespaghetti @yourmercibeaucoupsblog @hanjisunginc

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fics #skz fanfics #kpop smut #kpop fics #kpop fanfics #seospicy smut

[howdoesagrapewrites]

ooo if you don't mind me sliding a request into your inbox then how about a yandere pavitr and gayatri

𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣

Cw: yandere/lovesick!Pavitr and Gayatri x gn!reader, obsessive behavior, delusion, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, mention of kidnapping

Notes: I'm so excited about this request ong

>Pavitr is delusional, he thinks all he does is for the sake of Mumbattan and his partners, he does not perceive his behavior as negative, and will react badly to being contradicted

>Gayatri in the other hand, is a little more self aware, enough to know your fight or flight response can be triggered anytime if they lack discretion with their more... Unconventional practices

>Pavitr is obsessive by nature, but as a yandere he's more on the protective side, he doesn't think you'd ever leave him, after all, you three have a perfect relationship (or so says his delusions) but he does worry about your safety

>Gayatri does worry about your safety, but her biggest fear is that any of you would leave, she's more relaxed about Pavitr because, well, he cannot physically be more in love, but you, you could leave, and she cannot allow that to be a possibility

>What I think gives them extra points as yanderes, is that they don't work as a duo, but as couple, they're madly in love with eachother just like they're head over heels for you, so you're less likely to question their actions when you see them interacting with the other just like they do with you

>Pavitr acts like a manipulator, but he isn't, he just voices his feelings to you, and it sounds like manipulation. But Gayatri is, she will use every tool on the box to keep you with them

>It's not something Gayatri enjoys, but she's more likely to get verbally aggressive in an emotional outburst than Pav

>Her words are most likely to be directed to you, but Pavitr also gets a piece of it sometimes

>"You're out all night and you don't even call! How am I suppose to trust you this way! How am I supposed to trust you with Y/N?! You're a cheater! A liar! You just want to leave us!" Tears spill from her eyes, yelling with a broken voice, Pavitr comes close to her and softly but firmly grabs her wrists so she can't hit him, she hugs her tightly until her breathing stabilizes, whispering how much he loves her, how much he loves being with you, how he'd be caught dead before even looking at someone else

>Pavitr is low-key a masochist, he feels terribly guilty when he fails to save people as spiderman, or when he has to leave you to go on patrol, so he accepts every mean thing you or Gayatri have to say, and he even feels a little comforted if you're upset about him leaving, because that means you love him just as much as he does

>Gayatri spoils you both so much, clothes, spa days, books, skincare, jewelry (and you know indian jewelry is 🔛🔝), whatever you want. She does this in hopes of making you dependent on her, but it's also because she loves gift giving even as a sane lover

>If ever so much as say the word "leave" or "break-up" they're both having full on panic attacks and clinging to you for dear life

>Although if it's really serious, Gayatri acts cold and mean to you, calling a liar and a coward, she'll try to calm Pavitr and glare at you, using his reaction to manipulate you and make you see how much of a bad person you are to make poor sweet Pav behave this way

>If you seem like you're up to something (maybe escaping) Gayatri would use her influence to tell everyone you're mad, that your words cannot be trusted as you are experiencing a really bad maniac episode, but it's okay, they still love you, and take you back

>This strategy is powerful and unless you have a really really trusted friend (that it's already difficult with how clingy they are) who would believe you, you're pretty much screwed, everyone you know will send you back to them

>In case you haven't noticed, Gayatri is definitely the one that would kidnap you, but she really wants you to stay by your own free will

>But of you did manage to escape from them, they'll search for you, Pavitr would be satisfied just stalking you and occasionally stealing your stuff, but Gayatri isn't

>"Baby, don't worry, they do love us, it's just that they are so confused, it's not their fault, we need to find them so they can be safe, Y/N cannot be trusted with their own safety" she kisses her boyfriend's forehead and calms him down so they can start looking for you already

>Now, if you're okay with their yandere tendencies, it's just heaven

>They're so attentive and will shower you with love and gifts every second of the day, they may even allow you to go outside alone (not for too long ofc)

>They're both extremely clingy and sometimes keep you bound to bed for cuddle sessions that last DAYS, don't worry about food, you can order whatever you want:3

>Gayatri may be more dangerous, but they're both at your feet, if you were a manipulative person, it's okay, they'll do whatever you want, just don't leave

>They both love to kiss you for hours, until your lips are bruised and you feel dizzy from the lack of air

>As long as you're docile, they're sweet partners who may have a few screws loose, but love you endlessly

#atsv x reader #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr x gayatri #pavitr x reader #atsv pavitr #pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar x reader #gayatri singh #Gayatri x reader #spiderverse pavitr #pavitr prabhakar x you #yandere Pavitr #yandere spiderverse #yandere atsv

[gamblersdoll]

THE WARM ,THE COLD ,THE SIX.

summary: your two teenage friends try to win your heart.. to what extent?

content contains adult themes, such as death, mature themes, angst, comfort, ect. my work is not suitable for many people. reader discretion is advised.

chapter one.

“you gonna be my wife, y/n?” gojo teased, peaking over his glasses. he had a am slinging around your shoulders bending to your height. how he was already six foot one at seventeen was astonishing. but he is satoru gojo after all.

“you think id set the bar for you that low? i value myself.” you said, peeling his arm off and looking at him with your arms folded. “youre delulu.” you said, shaking your head.

“hey– hey! dont call me that, youre delulu for not taking a chance.” he said, huffing like a child not getting his little snack from his local mart-wal or shop. “just give me one chaaance , mrs satoru..!” he said, a whine and pout. he was going to speak again until geto showed up.

“oh satoru, please stop whining over her. shes your type yes, but no need.” geto appeared, his eyes slightly hanged low towards you.

“haa?” he said, looking to him. “you know shes hot and you blame mee!?” he exclaimed, growing a little hissy fit. “isnt she your type too? you should understand, emo!” he pouted, looking away from both of you.

“not confirming nor denying, but she probably wouldnt want a delusional man whining.” geto said, taking his hair out of a bun and letting it fall. god, he should at least have a girlfriend right now , nor a situationship.

“would both of you stop calling me that?!” he yelled, causing the boys to bicker and banter against each other. you had managed to slip away from that, and into your own room.

you shouldnt had agreed to share a apartment with them, geto with hair that sheds like a damn shepherd, gojo having some randos come over, geto having icky scented candles lit, ect. especially when they argue about something, you always became the middle man and youd somehow argue too because one didnt like your response.

you understood the shedding, since you had a head full of hair anyway, and maybe they thought you had icky scented candles. like the time you had a sour apple candle going and geto side eyed you for it. but it was home, your home.

you had closed the door, slipping out of uniform and changing into a baggy shirt with some shorts. you liked being comfortable, the only problem was the shorts riding up because of your thighs and you sometimes hated it. you hadnt worn it outside your room persay, but you needed to at that moment to cook something at least.

which would be the absolute death of you.

you walked out of your room to the kitchen, having geto and gojo stop mid arguement, only to look respectfully of course.

his blue eyes on you.

his brown eyes on you.

you felt them, you shouldnt care, but you couldnt. you felt like a animal with two predators on you, drooling. you heard them both breathe heavily while you got on the step ladder to reach for the cajun seasoning. you felt them breathe on you even being a few feet away.

“told you shes hot.” gojo said, using his hands to demonstrate your curves, meanwhile looking at geto.

“thats….” geto sighed, looking away from you finally. “okay.”

“im uh … making cajun chicken and pasta.” you tried to change the topic, but it was about you.

“unt unt.” gojo sounded, shaking his finger side to side, clicking his tongue. “we arent gonna ignore this little fit you got on.” he said, practically frantic in his eyes. he wasn’t desperate for you, but, he was eager.

“gojo, its shorts and a big ass tee, i look terrible.” you said, flatly.

“you dont know what a homeless outfit on a hot bitch like you does to me.” he said— was he getting closer? you had to do a double take.

“gojo, two steps back to where you were!” geto demanded–

yeah, he was getting closer, he had those eyes that made him look crazy, acting like a tweaker. you stepped back as well, no longer looking at his direction, but looking for your cast iron skillet. you were hearing him and geto say something but you didnt pay attention until you squatted back up–

“gojo, get back here n..”

“—and if you dont, i wont hesitate to rip it off with my teeth maybe.” gojo finished, looking at where you ended up against him. he was at fault since he was in your bubble, but you brushed up against him when you squatted back up to your height. and it made him lose his cool on the inside. he didnt mind it though.

everyone was quiet, geto pinching the bridge of his nose. geto had his own thoughts about you, but he could keep it to himself, unlike gojo. he relied on actions instead of words, thats why helps cook, clean, or just help you with your hair.

“it isnt wise for you to wear shorts like that around. you can throw some pants over it or ill rip them off with my teeth.” he warned, trapping you against the fridge with a arm beside your head.

you hated when he did that, when hed talk to you all low and heafty with his eyes low and lidded. this time is like that but he had such a mean face. you only hated it because it was like one of those boyfriends that spoke to you all dark and low.

“go get me some pants then, out my drawer geto..?” you sighed, keeping an eye on gojo and keeping distance.

after that whole fiasco, you were in your room. you were just reading up until you heard them bicker again, and they called your name.

you came out to the banter, feeling like its stupid. until they asked you something about if cookies are better well done, normal, or undercooked. you sighed, finally answering.

“cookies are better soft, so somewhere between undercooked and normal cooked. i also kinda like medium rare cookies.” you said, finding peace in that answer, until gojo spoke up.

“you pretty and pretty thick and all but what the hell is a medium rare cookie???” he asked, making the confusion of questions.

“please do explain, y/n.” geto chirped in, putting his hair up.

#jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #jujutsu gojo #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu geto #gojo satoru

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Yandere Mom!Wanda trying to kidnap Reader from another universe, because she misses her baby pleaseeee

I love that!

Baby Mine (Yandere Mom!Wanda Maximoff x Reader) (Potential MoM spoilers ahead! Read at your own discretion!)

*Not my GIF

Summary: Wanda had long accepted that she wouldn't be able to get her children back, yet she refused to accept having no one to love.

You had long accepted that you would always be the outcast of your family, yet you refused to accept that there was no hope.

What happens when she spies you whilst viewing other universes?

(CW: Potential ableism, (I'd like to make it autistic and non-autistic inclusive if I can. It could be read as the reader being autistic, having severe trauma, or both because quite a few trauma symptoms overlap with some autism symptoms) self-harm, abuse, yelling, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, MoM spoilers, (sorry, I forgot to put this as a content warning, please don’t hate me am fragile nugget)

Author's Note: Someone wrote a reply to my "Wanda's your next door neighbor" imagine that they "totally haven't reread it a concerning amount of times." And it makes me realize just how many of us use fanfics to fill the voids in our lives....(fuck, now I'm tearing up) So while yandere fics aren't usually supposed to be a good thing, I think taking the reader from an abusive family to give them the love they deserve may be the exception.

I'm also bringing in another character or two.

“Baby mine, don't you cry Baby mine, dry your eyes Rest your head close to my heart Never to part, baby of mine.”

Wanda wakes up in her little cabin, alone as always. Her face is stained with tear tracks. Billy and Tommy had appeared in her dreams again, and while she missed them terribly, she'd given up her search.

"Know that they'll be loved..."

She knows.....yet it doesn't fill the hole in her heart.

After spending some more time in bed, she gets up and gets dressed before making herself some tea with her breakfast. Everyday just seems to drag on now that she's resigned herself to this fate. And yet, there's still this little spark of hope that she may find something or someone to love, someone that she won't lose.

With that little spark of hope, she goes about her day until she decides to use some magic to view other universes. It's not necessarily dream-walking, it's more like just being an observer without leaving the universe you're in.

For some time, she comes up empty-handed. But suddenly, she spies....someone.

===========

"Ah!"

You cry out as your mother confronts you with your report card.

"What is this?" she snaps, practically punching it with her finger.

You look to see that B+ in Science, sticking out of the sea of As like a sore thumb.

"It's....it's a B+," you say.

"Yeah, a B+."

"It's.....it's still passing...." you defend weakly.

"It's barely passing!" she snaps. "You're not applying yourself. You need to stop being so lazy and actually try for once in your life!"

"But....but I--"

"SHUT UP!"

You wince as her voice punches your ear drums.

"I didn't raise you to be a lazy brat! Are you even studying?"

"I-I am....but I still don't understand--"

"I don't want to hear your excuses."

She huffs.

"I give you a roof over your head, clothes to wear, food to eat, and all I ask is for you to do well in school and help out around the house. I don't think that's too much to ask, but how do you repay me? By sitting on your ass all day doing fuck-all! Do you know how hard I work to raise you all by myself?! And where were you?! You didn't come home on the normal bus!"

"I-I was staying back to get help for Science," you reply meekly.

"Liar!" Your mother snaps. "You were out with some punks, weren't you?"

"No! I wasn't, I promise."

"Likely story."

Suddenly your mother pinches down on your ear and yanks you up to your room.

"Ungrateful, useless brat! Stop that whimpering or else I'll give you something to cry about."

She drags you to your bedroom and pushes you inside to the ground before throwing your backpack at you as well, hitting you in the back. The textbook corner in your backpack hammers on your spine and you wince.

"Stay in here and study, you stupid bitch."

She loudly slams the door shut before you hear a click. She's locked you in. After a few minutes, you sit up weakly and sit on your floor. The tears fall silently as you bite down on your arm.

"Every day...." you squeak as you rock on the floor. "Every day I hope for someone to take me away from this hell hole....I don't know how much longer I can take this....someone....please help me...."

=======================

Wanda's heart breaks and the tears fall down her face at the sight of you. A poor, sweet child who wants to love and be loved only for that wretched woman to degrade and abuse you. She doesn't deserve you. In that moment, Wanda's mind is made up. But unfortunately you're in another universe.

She'll need to call in some back-up. And she knows just who to summon.

=======================

America Chavez has her eyes on a fellow sorceress in Kamar Taj, distracting her from her studies. Her heart flutters at the girl's smile, her stomach fills with butterflies at the song that is her laugh. And this is the first time she's actually felt a bit shy, something completely new to her. She's never been shy.

But today's the day she's gonna talk to her.

"Okay, America," she whispers to herself. "You can do this. Just go up to her and start a conversation. It's not that complicated."

She takes a deep breath before approaching her.

"Um, hey," she says, trying her damnedest to push down her nerves. "I....I've seen you in lessons before and, uh, I'm-I'm America Chavez."

The girl smiles at America.

"Oh yeah, I've seen you too. I'm Titania Phillips, like the fairy queen in A Midsummer Night's Dream."

The two of them just stand there for a bit in silence.

"Say something, America!" her mind snaps at her. "You can do this."

"So, uh," she begins. "Do you like.....stuff?"

Titania giggles.

"Yes, I do in fact like stuff. What sort of stuff are you referring to?"

"Girls?"

It just....bursts out of America's mouth, causing her cheeks to turn scarlet.

"Oh, you're lesbian too?" Titania asks. "I thought it was just me."

"Score!" America squeals internally as she nods. "Okay, now just ask her if she wants to eat lunch or something."

"Umm...." Titania says. "You can stop nodding."

America realizes that she's become a human bobble head and grasps the sides of her head to stop herself.

"Sorry," she chuckles. "So, um, you maybe wanna get lunch or some--?"

Her words are cut off by a grip on her mind. A few seconds later, she finds herself in an unfamiliar house. Something closes behind her and she turns around just in time to see a star-shaped portal close completely.

"Seriously?!" she exclaims.

"America."

A voice hits her ears, one she hasn't heard in a while. She turns to see the last person she'd expect to see.

"W-Wanda?!" she exclaims. "I-I thought you---."

The Scarlet Witch chuckles bitterly.

"You really think it’d happen so easily?"

America blinks a bit.

"What even happened?" she asks. "I was trying to talk to a girl in Kamar Taj."

"And how was that going for you?" Wanda asks, almost knowingly.

"....I was dorky as hell," the teen lesbian mumbles under her breath, glancing down at the floor.

Hearing this Wanda giggles.

"Don’t worry, you’ll get more confident around her. Maybe she'll even be your first kiss."

"Okay, pushing my love life aside, how and why did you bring me here?"

"I had to take control of you for a moment, make you summon a portal to me."

"You...you're not gonna....are you?" America begins to panic.

"No, I'm not," Wanda assures her. "I brought you here in desperate need of your assistance."

"With....what?"

Wanda takes a deep breath.

"Follow me."

She takes America to her universe-viewing room and conjures up what she saw earlier.

"I found a child."

"I thought you gave up on finding the twins."

"I have," she confirms. "But this one's different. Take a look."

She replays the footage and America feels her heart break.

"Holy shit...." she gasps. "What kind of monster treats a kid like that?!"

"Apparently that child's mother. They're in another universe, though. That's where you come in. I need you to make a portal to their universe."

"You're taking them from their family?!"

Wanda nods.

"It's for the best. No child deserves that sort of barbaric and cruel treatment."

Hearing this, the teen is torn. On one hand, she saw how you were being treated, but on the other hand, that's your family. And yet she heard you say how it's an every day occurrence. She can only imagine how little you have to hang onto.

With this thought in mind, she nods.

"Okay, I'll help you. When should we go get them?"

"When it's nighttime in their universe," Wanda answers. "I'll need for you to just wait around a few hours."

"But...Titania..." she whimpers.

"You can talk to her all you like when this is over. Now would you like me to make you some tea?"

"Um....I'm good, thanks." America shivers at the memory.

"I'm really gonna need therapy for that."

=========

It's now 12 am in your universe and your eyes are stinging from all of the studying, but you're so scared that your mother is gonna burst into the room and yell at you some more. And yet....you feel like that's what you deserve.

You hear your stomach grumble and feel the immense ache. You didn't get dinner that evening. How could you when your momster locked you in your own bedroom?

"What's the point?" you sigh as you throw down your textbook, not realizing how loud it is. "I'm never gonna be good enough....I should just sleep on it."

You put on some worn and scratchy PJs and get ready to tuck yourself in your uncomfortable bed when you hear the click of the lock. You begin to panic as the door slams open loudly.

"What are you doing?!" Your mother snaps. "I didn't tell you you could stop studying."

"I need sleep," you tell her.

"Don't you dare talk back to me!"

"But--"

"I said don't talk back!"

You put your hands over your ears and begin rocking, scrunching your eyes shut. Not a moment later, your hands are yanked away from your ears and pinned down.

"Don't you dare ignore me! Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you, you worthless mistake!"

Pinning down both hands with one, she raises her free hand, ready to smack you. You can't take this anymore and at that moment, you scream out in agony.

"SOMEBODY SAVE ME PLEASE!"

All of a sudden, your mom lets go of your hand and you hear her cry out before a loud bang reaches your ears. You open your eyes to see your mom on the floor with her back against the wall.

"Get your hands off of that child." A voice you don't recognize, one with an accent, growls at her.

Your mother is too stunned to speak. You look over to see a woman with red hair in a red and black outfit. Next to her is a girl with black hair wearing a denim jacket. The red-haired woman nods to the girl and the girl approaches you while the red-haired woman goes over to your mom.

"C'mon," she tells you. "We're here to get you out of here."

You're extremely hesitant, but the girl insists.

"We're not gonna hurt you, we promise."

All of a sudden, you hear your mother scream in fear. Looking over, you only just see her eyes glow red before she curls up in the fetal position in fear. The red-haired woman approaches you.

"It’s going to be alright, sweetie," she tells you. "We promise we won't hurt you."

You're still very hesitant and the red-haired woman sighs, as if she knew this was how you would react, but it's not in an impatient way. All of a sudden, a red wisp seems to emerge from her hand and enters through your ear. You see a brief flash of red before you fall asleep.

==============================

The first thing you notice when you come to is softness. Softness all around you.

Opening your eyes, you find yourself somewhere unfamiliar and you get a bit anxious.

"Hey, it's okay, sweetie."

You hear a gentle voice near you. Looking up, you see the red-haired woman sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. She’s now in casual clothes. You panic a bit.

"Please...don't hurt me..." you whimper.

"I would never hurt you," she assures you. "Never."

She reaches out her hand to you and you flinch.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” she says to you softly.

“Are....are you gonna hit me?” you stammer.

“Never,” she tells you. “I promise I will never hit you.”

You’re silent for a bit, tentatively taking ahold of her hand after several minutes. She gently rubs the back of yours with her thumb.

“Where....where am I?” you ask.

“You’re in my house,” she tells you.

“How did I get here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“And why am I here?”

You hear her sigh again. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetie,” she assures you. “It’s just, it’s difficult to explain without startling you. The important thing is that I brought you here because I heard your pleas to be taken away from that place. No child should ever be treated like that. You deserve love and kindness.”

“N-no I don’t.”

“....I know it’s difficult to believe considering how long the abuse has been happening for, but I promise it’s true. You deserve to be loved, and that’s why you’re here. I want to be your mother.”

You hear this and you’re in disbelief.

“H-huh? Is...is this a dream?” you ask.

She smiles softly.

“No, it’s not a dream. It’s very real, sweetie. I truly want to be your mother. I want to love you and take care of you.”

Your eyes begin to water.

“I....I don’t have to go back there, right?”

She shakes her head.

“No, never. This is your home now, you’ll always be loved here.”

You let a small squeak escape your throat and your lip quivers before you weep. You lean forward and hug your new mother.

“Thank you....” you cry, feeling a wave of relief. “Thank you....mom...”

It feels odd, and yet comforting, to say that.

She hugs you in return and rubs your back gently.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just let it out. It’s okay to cry,” she assures you. “I’m here. Mommy’s here.”

Her love for you grows the longer you two hug. It’s been so long since she’s had someone to care for, and now she has you. You’ve given her a reason to keep going, just by being with her. You truly are a sweet child, now her sweet child; so loving and kind and hopeful.

And Wanda wants nothing more than for you to stay that way.

See....what you don’t know is that you aren’t the only person/thing Wanda had America help retrieve. Unbeknownst to her, Wanda had her retrieve an extremely-powerful elixir; a single dose stops aging, assures complete immortality, and fully protects from all deadly diseases and injuries. She injected a dose into you while you were asleep before injecting herself with a dose. 

Not only that, but she’s also placed a barrier around the island. Just enough for you to explore, but not stray so far from her. On top of that, she’s placed an enchantment on America and made sure to disguise it, in case Strange and Wong notice something’s up; it’s to summon her back in case she needs something for you. She’s not going to take her powers, no, but she still wants to make sure that she has what she needs to take care of you.

Yes, you; her precious child.

She won’t let anything or anyone hurt you.

All you’ll know is love from now on.

And no one will ever take you away from her.

She’s made certain of that....

“From your head to your toes (Baby mine) You're so sweet, goodness knows (Baby mine) You are so precious to me Cute as can be Baby of mine Baby mine Baby mine.”

#yandere wanda maximoff #yandere wanda maximoff x reader #yandere wanda maximoff x autistic!reader #america chavez #autistic reader #marvel yandere #avengers yandere #wanda maximoff #cw multiverse of madness spoilers

[laramcelino]

My headcanons for the personality of FT characters cus they are very basic, starting with team Natsu:

Natsu:

It's already canon but, he takes fighting me advantage of everyone thinking he is a dumbass, so I like to think he uses it for everything

He is kinda shy when it comes to talk of sex and romance, maybe Igneel traumatized him idk, so he also plays dumb to avoid questioning and chat about it

Also people say because of his behaviors he looks more childlike, but it backfires when they see him getting serious and is not cute as an angry kid

Discretely start to bury himself inside his scarf when feels shy or uncomfortable

He absolutely hates the fact that the girls of the team think he is cute when shy

He is the type of person who acts drunk without even being that drunk

Like he's not a lightweight, but people assume he is drunk when he is only typsy

He likes his hair a lot, and is the only thing he puts a personal care

He hates being touched unannounced

Has a weird memory so he may forget his own birthday, but remember the name of the flower you said you like in that trip five years ago

He haves ADHD and I take no criticism in it

Has dyslexia this is why he struggles to read and write

Cus of his good hearing he gets a lot of gossip on the guild, half of it he doesn't pay attention the other half he ignores for his own good

And half of what he ignores he forgets until the next day the other half he zips inside of his brain forever, he knows some spicy shit

He likes to hear people tell stories so sometimes when Lucy just want to read instead of doing anything "fun" he asks to her to read for him

It's actually a good coach, so kids in fairy tail love to practice fisical fighting with him

Lucy:

Actually knows very well about trade and bargain, so she always get discounts for the team on hotels and restaurants, call it a family trait or evolution for spending too much with Natsu around

She is broke cus gets impulsive and buys too much clothing and accessories

Anytime the boys let she likes to dress them in a more stylish way

She knows how to flirt and it completely infuriates her when it doesn't work as she wants

As a rich girl she learn a lot of "ladylike" things such as table etiquette, embroidery and flower language

She also knows how to speak two other languages

She is a fast learner so domestic tasks where easy to pic after leaving the kozern

The only thing she suffer to learn is to bake, Mira can't help anymore

She bruises like a peach and even if she doesn't have any big scar, she have tons of small ones, mainly on her legs

People think she may be obsessed with not marking her skin, but actually don't, she cherishes her battle scars

She always knows what to gift someone, doesn't matter if it's expensive or handmade she gives the best gifs in the guild

Is a people pleaser, hard

Is the team therapist

Gives good advice but never listen to herself

She can take compliments on her appearance very well, but talk about her talents and the girl gets all flushed

Erza:

Can't cook to save her life

Aside of clothes, weapons and armors she also likes to collect plants

Doesn't means she is good at it

Even if she gets flustered when people mention sex, she haves a very dirty mind and will be the first to think dirty 😏

Is very well organized and enjoy cleaning

Secretly enjoy Natsu and Gray constant bickering, if they are fighting it means they are okay

Is overprotective (mainly to kids in the guild) to the point people need to ask her to relax

And when someone spend time to take care of her she gets emotional

She wish she was better with children but always end up scaring them

It makes her a little scared of being a mom

Once in a mission a bunch of kids run away from her after slaying a monster in a harsh way, the one child who didn't run said they wanna be like her when they grow up

Erza cried about it for an hour

Her sense of style is either terrible or spot on, depends on her mood

She loves when people play with her hair, she often sleep during it

Gray:

Tries to look as cool and stoic as Laxus, but is a dumbass like Natsu

The only thing he is better is at holding his tongue

He had a crush in half of the girls in the guild

He never tried to date cus thinks he would be a terrible boyfriend

Is shy for romance, but will deny it

He is like the protective brother of the girls so he will be jealous of then, especially Erza, Cana, Lucy and Wendy

He likes to hear gossip, even if he don't show or tell anyone

Cana is the one who tells more for him, it's like a bonding time

Also when he knew about the Gildarts thing he felt betrayed for not knowing it before, since they are best friends

Then he blame himself for not being a better friend for her want to tell, and she said: shut the drama! Sit, I have some spicy shit to tell ya

Can't take spicy food

He is very observant and often knows someone is sad just by seeing then

Was the first to understand that Natsu has a crush on Lucy and tease him for it

He have bad self-steam and compares himself too much

Is a heavy drinker but when he gets drunk he became naked honest and may cry a little

He used to go party a lot with Loke and it always end up with him saying: I'm not saving your womanizer ass again!!

Wendy:

As Natsu acts overly dumb she will grow to act overly inocent

But damn, she had read some of Erza steam books

Lucy caught her and promise to never tell anyone

Can't keep her room clean for more than half an hour

As everyone around her is loud she tends to talk more softly

But when she is too much exited she will be just as loud as everyone else

Can tell you are not okay by just hearing your voice

A great cook, and always offer herself to do the meals

It's also a part of the fact she loves take cares of others

She loves when Lucy and Erza let her braid their hair

Sometimes when Natsu's hair is longer than normal he lets her do some hairstyles too

Is very insecure of her abilities and appearance and is always comparing herself to others

Erza and Lucy noticed it and started to do girls nights with her to talk and relax

Doesn't know how to deal with compliments

She's a silent girl but very clumsy so when trying to sneak into someone she end up telling her position

For now I think is it.

I do not have many headcanons for the exceeds even though I love Happy with my heart (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

#fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #erza scarlet #gray fullbuster #wendy marvell

[jangosweat]

Kinktober 2022

Obviously all this is going to be NSFW 18+ ONLY, reader discretion is advised! I've always wanted to try out a challenge and have been fooling around with these prompts so we'll see how far I get! Day 3 (Dirty talking) and Day 4 (Size difference)

Dirty talking with Boba Fett

"Well look at you pretty girl."

You stopped in your tracks, a bowl threatened to clack to the metal grated floor of the ship. Your ears burning hot. You turned but didn't see Boba Fett anywhere nearby. Did he finally work out that kink in the intercom that gave him so much trouble... With a shrug you went back to putting away some pots and pans into the pantry.

"Slow down, Stars alive, you're leaking everywhere..." Boba groaned from outside of the ship. "Fuckin' go... wait wait, now slow down." You stood and waited by the open ramp, this could not be happening. You did hold a jealous side and words that were curated for you, were being said outside of the bedroom and not to you. You clenched your jaw.

"Easy does it... you're not gonna' give me a hard time are ya', sweetheart? There we go--open on up for me, a little a time. Ah, a little bit... that's it. Good job, good girl!"

"You're doin' good, just a little more and... there we fucking go. Empty it out, I know there's more in there, I've seen it... just a little more for me."

"That's it. Mhmmm, found that sweet spot, didn't I?" Your eyes went wide, your mouth slack as terrible images of what might be going on just outside of the craft with balled fists. "Maker that's a lot... maybe, oh fuck it maybe one more round hmmm and there she goes..."

That's it! 

"Boba Fett! who the hell are you talking to?"

"Oh! Princess, you're not busy are you?" Boba perked up, eyes bright and smiling at you as you stomped down the ramp with rage. Who did he think he was? How dare he have the audacity to not only have an affair, betray you to the highest tier but to bring them back to the ship. Your ship!

"You bet your kriffing ass I'm not busy! Where are they?" You demanded and marched down the ramp with purpose, eyes flitting over every sandy inch and seeing who was at the receiving end of Boba's filthy mouth.

"Wha-- who?"

"Whoever you're talking to like that!"

"Wha-- oh." Boba laughed, a deep belly laugh as you frowned and planted yourself, puffing up your chest to show him you meant business.

"Oh Boba if I were you, I would not be kriffing laughing right now."

"Oh princess, my beloved little thing I'm talking to her." He points to one of the outside control panels from Slave I instead of an affair. "She's been giving me sass for two days now and I finally found the problem." Boba Fett explained, plain as day. It was then that you noticed the grease smear on his forehead, wiping some of it off his hands before you set them on your shoulders, thick blunt fingers playing against the soft skin of your neck. "You poor thing, you thought I'd really be talking to someone else like that? I wouldn't dream of it. Those words are for you alone, my love. Aww you silly girl, you're just so used to those words being told to you so often, you thought... oh little one."

"It's not funny." You pouted into his chest when he hugged you.

"It is pretty funny. Though I must admit you do look extra cute when you're jealous."

"I do not!" You grumbled, a little embarrassed and a little turned on.

"Oh little one, lying is not a good look on you. Here, why don't you help me finish her off."

"Fett!" You wiggled out of his hold, your face burning as you swatted him with a sheepish grin.

"Goodness me, what would happen if I was talking to someone else like that?"

"Let me tell you, Fett; you wouldn't be alive long enough to find that out."

Boba chuckled and tossed the rag onto the ground, ushering you inside. "How about I make it up to you then, hmmm? Why don't you help me in the fresher and I'll spare some choice words for you instead. Deal?"

Size difference with Mando

It's silly really, Din hasn't revealed his true name to you even though he's been balls deep in all three of your holes now. He's not careless or some degenerate by any means but... he still plays his life as close to his chest as his beskar.

The threat of you knowing too much makes his heart pulse at the thought of something terrible happening just because of him.

He's been gone for a few weeks now, triumphant in his capture of another bounty, which meant more credits, which meant he was finally roaring through the clouds back to you.

You had missed him, that much was obvious. The way you yanked him into your apartment, helped him de-shell the beskar, the bothersome blacks getting in your way of sucking his cock.

Din was always ready for you, after that first time he was hooked.

He couldn't help the shudder that tickled his skin after you pulled your mouth off him with a gentle 'pop', sinister gaze and all as you stood and cradled against him. Rocking your hips, crowding his helmet with your hot hands as you straddled him, made him grab and hold onto your waist. You grinned and sat up, moving your skirt to reveal an incredibly sexy ego boost to his chest, that you weren't wearing anything underneath.

"Be careful cyar'ika , remember to go slow." Din huffed, leaning his head back against the couch, exposing his neck.

"I know I know, I'm not trying to be split in two, Mando!" You laughed and held his throbbing cock, using some of your arousal to lube him up. 

He didn't understand the first time you took him out of his pants, your eyes were conveying more than desire. But he did now. 

A hidden smile played on his face when he watched you concentrate on swirling the blunt crown of his cock around your clit before plunging it inside your cunt with a groan.

"Slow down, cyar'ika."

Din dug his fingers into your thighs, you bit your lip and rolled your eyes.

"You're just so big," you sighed and continued to swallow him until you firmly sat, wiggling a bit to fit, giving time for your walls to embrace him. "Every kriffing time! You stretch me out. I missed being -ah shit! Miss being full of you..."

Din grinned again, snaking a hand up your neck and making you look into the T visor. "Is that a complaint?"

You shook your head. "Absolutely not! I can take it."

Din chuckled through his helmet making you tremble and grab onto his bulky shoulders. "Don't I know it."

You grinned and buried your face into his cowl, desperate and letting Din fuck up into you like there was no time to spare. Like he'd be gone within the hour. And maybe he would be, but he'd always come back to fuck you up. In the fun way, of course. 

The fun way of watching you unravel like thread between his fingers, arousal or spit covered it didn't matter much as long as he was the only one to fill you up.

Tagging: @thefact0rygirl @janghoefett @bobafetts-princess @mysticalgalaxysalad

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #boba fett x you #boba fett x reader #boba fett x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x female reader #kinktober star wars #kinktober star wars edition

[vrhexn]

              ❏ ・𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 ﹗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚     ✎. . . ◜ ♡ ◝       :       【 ピンク 】﹗﹗         ❛ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍      · ·           ───────────────    𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐈      ⸝⸝

Below the cut is a profile for an original HELLUVA BOSS/HAZBIN HOTEL character! There may be adult and triggering themes within her history and character description, so please take care of yourself and proceed at your own discretion.

ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ; 3/16/2024

❏ character chart ﹗﹗

full name lorelei name pronunciation lor-uh-lie nicknames lulu , lori Mistress reason for nicknames mostly just affectionate shortenings of her name!

birthdate may 14th 1870 birthtime around seven pm deathdate early 1900s age appears to be in her early thirties star sign Taurus (𝒔𝒖𝒏) | libra (𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏) | Scorpio (𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈) With  this  combination  of  Taurus  Sun,  Libra  Moon,  and  Scorpio  rising,  the  individual  is  likely  to  possess  a  multifaceted  personality.  They  may  appear  calm  and  steady  on  the  surface,  while  harboring  intense  emotions  and  desires  underneath.  The  Taurus  sun  and  Libra  moon  combination  suggests  a  love  of  beauty,  art,  and  material  comforts,  coupled  with  a  diplomatic  nature  and  a  desire  to  maintain  balance  and  harmony  in  relationships.  However,  the  Scorpio  rising  adds  depth  and  intensity  to  the  mix.  The  individual  may  possess  a  mysterious  aura  and  a  powerful  presence.  They  may  be  drawn  to  exploring  the  occult  or  other  hidden  aspects  of  life,  and  may  possess  a  natural  magnetism  and  sexual  energy.  The  combination  of  earth,  air,  and  water  suggests  a  well-rounded  individual,  with  practicality,  charm,  and  depth.  However,  the  potential  for  stubbornness  and  indecision  may  also  be  present,  as  well  as  a  desire  for  power  and  control.

birthplace denmark deathplace united kingdom cause & reason for death ↳ Lorelei  had been  forced  into  a  marriage  of  convenience  and  station with an earl from england .  Her  husband  did  not  love  her,  nor  did  she  him.   whatever  affection  he  may  have  had  for  her  was  quickly  lost  at  her  lack  of  interest  to  engage  with  any  of  her  '  marital  duties.  '   A   maid then  made  claims  against Lorelei , saying she was using  black  magic  in an attempt to   kill  her  spouse. Those accusations quickly lead to the lady being deemed  as  possessed  by  the  devil  and  in a fit of hysteretic.   And  what  better  way  to  treat  such terrible aliments than  bloodletting?    It  was  quickly  made  clear  that  this  '  treatment  '  was  nothing  of  the  sort.  It  was  a  punishment,  a  damnation  to  die  –  an  agonizing  and  painful  death.   Loss  of  blood  and  fever  from  infection  made  easy  work  of  her  body,   but  she  continued  to  curse  everyone  who  had  done  this  to  her.   On  her  last  day,  she  vowed  to  find  all  who  allowed  this  to  happen  to  her  in  the  next  life. current residence pentagram city, pride ring sexuality pansexual / panromantic pronouns she/her, they/them occupation countess & owner of the Blood Manor ↳ the  blood  manor,  at  first  glance,  appears  as  just  that,  a  manor.  a  meticulously  carved  piece  of  Victorian  gothic  architecture  erected  smack  dab  in  the  middle  of  the  metropolis  that  was  Pentagram  city.  Though  wrapped  by  a  tall  iron-rodded  gate,  with  hellhounds  guarding  the  main  set  of  looming  double  doors  ,  at  almost  all  times,  and  even  more  patrolling  the  grounds,  individuals  can  be  seen  coming  and  going  at  all  hours  of  the  day.  The  lady  of  the  Manor  deals  in  red,  they  say.  Offering  sinners  money  or  even  a  bit  of  magical  assistance  in  exchange  for  blood.  What  did  she  need  it  for?  well,  it's  not  just  for  her,  but  for  anyone  else  who  has  liquid  metal  as  their  food  of  choice.  So  having  trouble  finding  a  willing  donor?  Stop  in  at  the  blood  manor  to  grab  yourself  a  blood  bag  or  two.

❏ physical appearance ﹗﹗

weight -- height 6'8'' body type hourgalss distinguishing features hair color grey eye color deep red sclera with white/grey iris tattoos -- piercing -- species Bat demon ( ʷᶤᵗᶜʰ ) ↳ fun fact: Lorelei's salivary glands secrete saliva containing anticoagulants and fibrinolytic enzymes that prevent blood clotting. : ) type of magic hemocraft / blood magic Little is known about the extent of Lorelei's blood magic, but some within higher stations or in extreme desperation have come to her for help. Blood holds more power than many give it credit, and lore seems to have found a way to tap into its potential. ↳ One of the most common things her magic has used to help others in the past is tracking. If she is brought a blood sample from a being that is no more than a couple of days old, she can form a crimson bond. During this bond, she can briefly either see the other's eyes or hear through their ears. Or if said person is within a certain distance, she can simply pinpoint their exact location. In theory, if someone of substantial power became aware of her bond, they could force her out and cause immense pain to her by breaking the connection early.

❏ traits of an individual ﹗﹗

mbti ISFJ

Introverted Sensing (Si): Memories are very dear to her; she takes great delight in revisiting or reliving them through new experiences that bring back the same emotional feelings that resemble the old. while adventurous, dramatic, and sudden changes can severely upset her.

Extroverted Feeling (Fe): though seeming a bit emotionally repressed, she is very kind, reassuring towards those close to her, and desirous of harmony within the relationships. In romantic relationships, Lorelei opens up quite a bit more, becoming very warm and affirming towards her significant other.

Introverted Thinking (Ti): observant and intuitive, as picking up on small inconsistencies in others is almost second nature to her. Stepping back to analyze others often and determine if something is truly a miss and weather or not said person needs to be removed, and soon.

Extroverted Intuition (Ne): Lorelei doesn't always assume everyone has dubious intentions, but she also doesn't deny the potential others have to do whatever they deem necessary. She often has hunches that prove to be correct, either about people or situations. love languages acts of service / words of affirmation / physical touch attachments style secure ↳ You’re  a  warm  and  friendly  person  who  feels  comfortable  in  relationships  (both  intimate  and  platonic).  You  connect  with  people  easily,  generally  feel  confident  in  who  you  are,  and  have  a  strong  sense  of  self-worth.  You  are  quite  good  at  communicating  your  needs,  feelings,  and  opinions  to  others.  Letting  people  in  is  easy  for  you  because  you  feel  safe,  can  set  healthy  boundaries,  and  have  the  skills  to  step  away  from  situations  that  don’t  deserve  your  time. enneagram type nine with a 1 wing: the dreamer Dreamers  are  similar  yet  extremely  different  from  their  fellow  Peacemaker  Type  Nines.  Type  9s  are  known  to  be  friendly,  amiable,  stubborn,  and  ambivalent.  Type  9w1  are  known  to  be  more  motivating  than  their  fellow  Type  Nines,  and  they  put  in  sufficiently  more  effort  to  help  those  in  need.  However,  this  can  also  lead  to  an  Enneagram  Type  9  wing  1  being  considerably  more  judgmental.  Peacemakers  have  such  a  large  fear  of  conflict  that  they  avoid  difficult  situations  at  all  costs,  whereas  a  Dreamer  is  more  willing  to  go  out  of  its  way  to  help  those  who  need. fears conflict, separation from what they love, isolation desires routine, support & acceptance of others uniting opposing sides strengths agree to disagree with others, they search for compromise , are more motivated to work , look at many different sides to a situation , and have a strong work ethic. weakness ignore their feelings to keep the peace, can become cold or aloof when stressed, constantly striving for perfection, and may neglect their own needs to keep peace or harmony.

song association people are strange - The Doors / The song "People Are Strange" by The Doors is about the isolation of being a stranger in an unfamiliar setting. It expresses how difficult it can be to be seen as an outsider and how easy it is to be forgotten. The lyrics evoke a sense of loneliness and alienation, emphasizing the outsider's struggles. The song speaks to the notion that people can be unkind to those they don't know, and that even familiar surroundings can feel strange and uncomfortable when one is alone and unseen. Ultimately, it conveys that being different and alone can be a difficult but inevitable part of life. a little wicked - Valerie Broussard / The song "A Little Wicked" by Valerie Broussard explores power, manipulation, and revenge themes. The lyrics depict a female protagonist who has been overlooked and disregarded while someone else occupies a position of power, symbolized by sitting on a throne. The repeated line "No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne" emphasizes the isolation and lack of sympathy the protagonist feels in this position.

The protagonist acknowledges her own cunning and cleverness, describing herself as "a little wicked." She embraces this darker side of her nature, asserting her determination to take control and claim the crown herself. Using imagery, such as the serpent in still waters and the reference to a tower, suggests the protagonist's deceptive and strategic approach to achieving her goals. red right hand - Nick cave & the bad seeds / "Red Right Hand" by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds is a warning of an intimidating figure who is looming on the edge of town. He represents an unknown force that looms over an individual, dictating their choices, telling them they "ain't what they seem," and dominating their fate. This figure is described as having a tall, handsome figure with a dusty black coat and a red right hand, symbolizing his power. He can offer financial and material gains in exchange for one's soul, but the consequences are dire. Ultimately, the song warns that the ultimate power rests within the figure's Red Right Hand – a place of control, manipulation, and fear.

[messinwitheddie]

Arugula,if you were able to. ever thought of taking a mate?

Also I think you and Pepperoncini should meet. You both don’t seem to like where your empire is heading.

Arugula "Take a mate? I don't understand the question. If translating correctly, I have and have had 1000s of mates over the long centuries. My "mates" and I are more tightly bonded than ever in recent centuries."

Oopze "Perhaps what they mean is, "would you ever pick only one of us?"

Arugula "NO! No, I would never trade or settle upon but one of my chamber drones. Did I not prove that point the night I died? No. I love all my chamber drones. If one decides to leave me for whatever reason, I'm accepting, provided they say goodbye to me beforehand."

Drones "Awww!" 💕

Ugz "I kind of like the term, "mate." It sounds more like a respected title; not just an occupational classification."

Arugula "Suppose it does. Then we shall adopt the word.

Ugz "Perhaps you have a new admirer and they're being discrete."

Arugula "Ohhh.... if that is the case; I will gladly take in another mate. No need to be shy.

As for Pepperoncini; I don't... wait! Pepperoncini...? Pepperoncini...? Why does that name sound familiar?"

Oopz "Late Pepperoncini of the 4th era is Spinch's mate."

Arugula "Ahh! Spinch; what radiance! What sweetness! Yes, I've met Pepperoncini. He has a BEAUTIFUL mate; and a loyal one. I invited her to participate in my harem, but she declined."

Oopz "She still shows for the buffet and the needle point circle and step aerobics class."

Arugula "True, but the harem is... oh, I won't get worked up. A bit possessive, that Cini and a prude. A product of his generation, I suppose.

Politically yes, we see eye to eye, but beyond that he and I do not mesh well. That is as much as I care to say about the subject."

[I actually have a Cini meets Arugula side plot partially worked out in my private sketch book, but that's not something tumblr should see and not just because my spelling without spellchecker is even more terrible.]

#invader zim #irken #ocs #tallest Arugula #they're too much alike #cini is probably #a very distant #descendant of arugula

[greenorangevioletgrass]

Ohhhh where do u think both bradley’s n reader’s careers were six years ago?? Aside from bradley being a prat 😭 idk if u are familiar with the bundesliga too but i used to be a big fan of james rodriguez when he player for bayern n i remember him being on the bench for LONG periods of time, n im pretty sure he was vocal about his frustration but dont quote me on that. Do you think smth similar happened to bradley?? He being kept off the field and on the bench n stuff. Has he been in any other club? Leagues perhaps??

Also funny thought that came to my mind is carmy n footballer!bradley existing in the same universe just for the levis collab bye.

ohhhh you’re onto something here babe 👀 im not all that familiar with james rodriguez or bundesliga but this is v v interesting!

footballer!bradley is somewhat based off of aaron ramsey, who has one of the best comeback stories ever. he was a rising star until he suffered a terrible injury that put him out for over a year and i can imagine bradley going through something like that?? (probably not as bad bc ramsey’s broken leg was HORRIFIC. seriously. look it up at your own discretion.)

six years ago, bradley was on top of the world. he scored the winning goal in the FA Cup, and was one of the most consistent players in the team (especially through a very difficult season). like errbody be worshipping the ground he walks on and lauding him as the club savior. he tries not to let it get his head but it did a little bit. and then, one game, he went down with a torn ACL and it put him out for a while, and when he does get back on the pitch, he wasn’t the same and he was terrified that he would never be. he’d be loaned out somewhere to get some playing time, and i quite like the idea of him playing in germany… i somehow feel like he would fit there (maybe werder bremen? or köln?). and it pissed him off to get sent to germany and having to earn his spot back in the starting squad, but it humbled him and made him work even harder in the end.

meanwhile, six years ago, reader is on a whole shift of her own. she released an album that shows she’s not a kid anymore and SHE FUCKS!!! think “reputation” but with a hint of renee rapp’s theater girlie pop 🤭 I won’t give too much away, but she was in a rebellious phase where she’s going out with some questionable men and taking up, well, questionable vices 👀

so, long story short, they’re both bummed they didn’t meet each other years sooner, but also grateful bc they would’ve tried to kill each other then 😜 lollll

#oooo i went on a complete tangent there #i hope i still make sense lol #bradley bradshaw #footballer!bradley #ask ava

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work in Progress Wednesday

Hello, it's your friendly neighborhood fic writer back with a snippet from this week's chapter, which I will be posting this Friday. This snippet comes with a slight warning. There is some implied/suggestive sexual content contained herein. I actually edited this version slightly to be more "safe for work" for Tumblr. With that being said, there is nothing too crazy in here.

Tagging the usual suspects: @sneaksandsweets @oblivions-dawn @nocturnalswarehouse @dumpsterhipster @romantichore @rose-like-the-phoenix

Snippet:

“I know I can count on you.” He takes one of her hands, kissing it sweetly before lacing his fingers through hers. “These couriers are normally heavily guarded, especially if they have sensitive information. Please be careful.”

“You know I always am.” She gives him a reassuring smile.

“You might want to go to the inn at Dragon Bridge first to see if you can find any information about the courier’s whereabouts. The Empire loves their damn lists, and there should be some sort of itinerary with a schedule.” 

“I remember that fact well. We ‘met’ over one of those damn lists, even if the meeting was brief.”

“Ah, yes. I guess that’s one thing I can thank the Empire for instead of cursing their existence. Even then you looked beautiful.”

She bats his arm playfully. “You barely even remember that!”

“I remembered enough to recognize that I had seen you before when you arrived in Windhelm. And how could I forget a face as pretty as this?”

“You’re terrible.”

“But you love me anyway.” He’s got her there, and she doesn’t bother to argue with him. “You can leave at first light tomorrow. One more night won’t make much difference in the grand scheme of things.” He leans back in his chair and picks up his goblet of mead. “You can stay with me in my tent.”

“Are you propositioning me, my Jarl?” She picks up her own mead, mirroring him, and takes a deep sip of its contents.

“Would you be inclined to accept if I were, my lady?” He looks up at her over his cup, a mischievous smile on his face.

Oh, he’s smooth, and he knows it. However, as much as she would like to take him up on everything that offer entails, they’re in a different context which requires more discretion.

“You know that normally I would say yes—”

“Then say yes.”

“I would, Ulfric, you know how much I enjoy spending time with you.” She takes one of his hands in hers. “However, we have the soldiers to think of, and I think it best if we try to keep things with us quiet for now.”

Ulfric smirks. “Well, that’s your own fault that you can’t keep yourself quiet while we are engaged in certain activities...” 

Her face flames red at his teasing. That is not what she meant by that, and he knows it. So, this is how he wants to do things? Two can play it that way.

“And that’s exactly why I can’t stay here because you know what will happen if I do.” She smirks back at him, patting him on his stubbled cheek.

He previous smirk abruptly falls into a frown. “At least give me something to remember you by as I spend my nights cold and alone.”

“As you wish, my bear king.”

She gets up from her chair swaying her hips as she does so, and the only thing he is left with is the image of watching her backside leave his tent.

This is not how he thought things would go at all. Ulfric groans and pours himself another drink. Tonight will be one of those few where only his imagination and his hand comfort him.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #dahlia wintersnow #ulfric stormcloak #ulfric x dragonborn #slightly suggestive #read at your own discretion

[electricbluebutterflies]

Masriel + Yeah, but they don’t fuck you the way you deserved to be fucked, do they?”

Affair-era, vaguely NSFW, also on ao3.

She’s enjoying this.

She shouldn’t be, and that’s almost the point. She should be more concerned about reputations, and how hers might suffer, and-

If Marisa is sure of one thing, it is her ability to survive. To the extent that she has a vision for the rest of her life, she suspects that screwing someone other than her husband will end up fairly low on her list of sins. She hasn’t done worse yet, but she will. Give her time. Give her everything.

She picked carefully – she had options, adulterous young women always do – with just the slightest discretion, and every movement of hands reminds her that this is the most beautifully terrible idea she’s had so far and-

If there is one problem, one tiny inconvenience to make her question her judgment, it is the fact that her counterpart does not shut up.

She’d known this beforehand. Reputations go both ways, and Asriel is proud and intense and highly intelligent and… like most men who hit those particular attractive traits, especially the pretty ones and the younger ones, likes the sound of his own voice perhaps just a little too much. This is the sort of habit that a different sort of woman would work to eliminate by keeping his mouth otherwise occupied as much as possible, but Marisa is still learning how to use her body to her advantage, still learning techniques she suspect she will refine on lesser men in years to come but right now there is this one, right now there is-

She is bent over the edge of a table, skirt hiked, in absolutely no position to solve that particular problem, and she is trying to keep herself calm.

She barely hears most of his words, the commentary she’s grown used to already – he talks prettier but he’s not the first man she’s let have her in secret, and she knows her good attributes, how tight and well-groomed and young she is and-

“You know you’re not the only person who knows this,” she hisses at some point, figuring a fight will either make him shut up or… she’s not really sure what she’s aiming for, but-

“Yeah, but they don’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked, do they?”

Arrogant, she thinks, arrogant and vulgar and her body clenches anyways and she wanted this and she hates it and she-

“Being used is exactly what I deserve,” she says after a few… not quite breaths, she’s trying so hard not to be overwhelmed, perhaps heartbeats, perhaps-

“Oh, you of all people should know you’re worth more than that.”

Marisa laughs, dangerous and sweet, and it’s just as well her lover can’t quite see her face right now. “You have me bent over and your prick inside me and you still-“

“Does anyone else you fuck make sure you enjoy yourself too?”

Well.

His fingertips on her clit do make a point, perfectly synchronized with slower deep thrusts – he’ll get his, there’s no doubt of that, but he’s at least aware she can feel good from what they do behind locked doors. Others haven’t been. Her goddamned husband, she suspects, has no clue and-

Like he knows what she’s thinking, like her body is just another scientific instrument, Asriel shifts pressure just the right way to make her breathless. She has learned to be quiet in this, in all things, but inside her there is a scream, inside her the feeling that this is what physical activities should be and-

“No wonder you don’t have trouble getting women,” Marisa breathes when she comes down. “You’re addictive.”

She expects some further proud comment, but he is in the middle of something and he’s quiet until he falls apart, quiet until too much of his weight rests on her for a moment too long and she’d try to stab anyone else who tried to cover her like that and-

The weight shifts, and she feels a handkerchief between her legs both cleaning and teasing her, and she wants to stay in this little moment forever.

“You’re magnificent,” he murmurs as he helps her re-dress, as they are able to make eye contact again. “Don’t let anyone touch you who won’t say otherwise.”

“I’m too young for a dead bedroom,” she counters. “And I’m not… not yet.”

He takes a parting kiss, slow and unusually sweet, one last moment before she reapplies her lipstick. “You should leave first. Always looks better that way.”

“You like watching me walk away.”

And with that she does, not giving a moment for one more comment, not wanting this to become more than it needs to be, not-

He’ll ruin her. Worst part is, she’ll let it happen.

#ebf writes fic #masriel #queue

[quitethepirategal]

Acanthus   ~   ( Is your muse deceptive, or willing to lie or deceive to achieve certain means?  Why or why not?  ) Lavender   ~   ( How easy is it to gain your muse’s trust?  Once their trust is broken,  how might one go about mending it? ) 

                                                                                                  ~  { @mxdam​ }

     It should be very clearly stated that Red Jessica is both unusually honest and unconventionally trusting, for a pirate.  She herself hates being lied to more than almost anything, and has a firm belief that the truth and open communication are generally more useful tools than lies.  Lies are hard to remember, hard to keep up with, too easy to miss details or timelines or who was told what for what reason.  But the truth happened, done and done.  Easy to remember and easy to recite.  Between her patchy memory, her trusting nature, and her reactive temperament, she tends to think she’s not a terribly good liar anyway.  She’s wrong, and somehow she knows it.  ...I understand that sounds pretty confusing out of context, but the puzzle assembles itself when we explore how her mind tends to work in the context of communicating.

      Shes a firm believer in communication as I said, and in her mind the more information you share, the more likely it is that everyone understands each other or is on the same page; important when both learning and teaching new skills, very important when dealing with trade, and even more important when captaining a crew.   The essays she writes are long and excruciatingly detailed.  The stories she tells are embellished and sound almost rehearsed ( put a pin in this ).  And all manner of discussion outside friendly chatting or small talk, depending on the situation, oscillates wildly between being just thorough or mind numbingly sporadic as she chases tangents like a child running after pigeons. This of course has drawbacks that she is acutely aware of in some situations and completely oblivious to in others.       Red Jessica is the queen of Usually Accidental TmiTM.  She is in no way private or mysterious or secretive - all cards ( but one or so ) are on the table with her.   Oversharing, compensating, info-dumping ( Gods help you if you get her excited ).  She never shut up as a child, and she grew so tired of the embarrassment it brought her by her teens that she just tried to stop talking all together.  All of her twenties was spent relearning how to talk to people and in her thirties, now struck with deafness, she was again too embarrassed to communicate ( internalized ableism ain’t fun, kids ).  Her forties finally showed her how to balance communication and discretion and she spread her social butterfly wings after finding peace in her new disabled reality.  She has the hang of biting her tongue now... mostly..  Well, she knows when to shut up about half of the time but alas, not usually, and most of the time she still doesn’t realize she’s being annoying or dominating or impolite until after the words have rocketed out of her mouth.  She’d also like to think she’s great at keeping secrets and to a degree, she is… but I wouldn’t trust her with any of mine- that I will say.       She doesn’t know why she’s like this, and it only bothers her occasionally now, but we in the modern world would witness this behavior and understand this as a symptom of Autism and / or ADHD. 

     The other side of this communication coin is that she is under the mistaken impression that everyone is as trust worthy as she is.  I’ve said this before but Jessica tends to trust people a tad too quickly and “give too much away” so to speak.  It’s gotten her into trouble, gotten her back stabbed, and even gotten her heart broken a time or two; but for some reason she never really, truly learns.  Even in her 40s and 50s she still constantly has to make an active effort to show restraint and verbally remind herself to trust carefully instead of throwing her heart at a wall.       A tiny part of this is just flat out denial; one of the reasons she’s survived as long as she has despite everything is because she truly believes that humans are a worthy species and that most people are worth knowing or fighting for until proven otherwise ( put a pin in that too ).  She’s not too trusting, she thinks, that person was just deceptive and evil!   Another part of this, perhaps sub or semiconsciously, is deeply tied to her unwavering belief that community is the central pillar of survival, both hers specifically and the human race’s.  She’s a biology student, shes a captain, shes an urchin, she’s a mammal, she’s a primate; even before she read Charles Darwin or John Locke she was living proof that humans only thrive if they thrive together.       So trust is a lifeline that goes both ways, and if you break that trust, you break that lifeline.  There is no recovering broken trust with Captain Red Jessica unless you have damn good evidence that there was merely a misunderstanding.  Breaking trust is the worst thing you can do.  In her mind, again for the most part subconsciously, you are not only a danger to her survival, but to her community’s.  One bad apple and all that.  She will kill you and to her you will deserve it.  For someone with an intense and ingrained love of humanity, she actually has very little regard for human life.  How is that possible?      This is, again, most likely a part the AuDHD experience.  Trying to imagine those around her as not thinking and feeling in the exact way she thinks and feels is extremely difficult ( also contributing to why she assumes people are noble and trustworthy by default ).  She is therefore a practitioner of many seemingly logical contradictions; She has an inflated sense of justice and fairness and indigence while, surprisingly, sporting very little if any real empathy.  She wears her emotions and her sense of self like a loose fitting and removable jacket, her actions and reactions feeling very literally like a constant and careful performance, while still unable to predict or control her flash-point temper or dizzying excitement.  She is sensitive and sympathetic, even treating plants or inanimate objects like they might have feelings, while, again, not having a whole lot of empathy.  She can’t relate to other people’s emotions or sometimes even her own emotions unless they are being felt Right Now while also seeming to understand things about herself and others that most people would never have figured out about themselves.  Leading to my final point. 

     Whether she realizes it or not, whether she likes it or not, and whether she knows how to wield it or not,  Jessica could learn to be a master manipulator if she wanted to be one.  While she herself has a very difficult time with social cues and is woefully unobservant unless something captures her intrest, she is, as stated above, uncannily perceptive and a phenomenal actress.  She had to learn young how to blend in with other people but didn’t quite get the hang of it until she was in her teens.  This late development of her superego allowed a unique look into why people do what they do and why she needed to behave how they behaved, something lost on most allistic people who develop socially by five or six ( in theory anyway ).   She can pick people apart with very little information and understands what makes people tick with imperfect but surprising accuracy.  This makes her excellent at persuasion and getting on peoples good side.  On top of that, as stated before, her perception of the world around her and her own perception of herself is a carefully constructed performance; a behavior we might call masking.  Her gender is an act, her personality is an act, her less intense emotions are an act; they are acts she’s grown comfortable with and are the closest to genuine she can be without just dropping the mask all together, but they are no less performative.  This means that she is actually a pretty convincing actress and, by proxy, a fantastic liar.       Luckily, Jess is mature enough to understand that attempts at manipulation would only alienate her from her wants, survival, comfort, beauty, love, stimulation, and respect, rather than aid in obtaining them.  True love and respect can’t be extorted ( but maybe in making the choice to not manipulate she’s secretly manipulating the situation in her favor ( or she’s just overthinking again )).  But that’s not to say she’s above it, and that’s certainly not to say she thinks lying is bad inherently.  She can lie, just as she can kill or steal or maim, to protect and obtain her interests.  And she can justify the means to her end almost every time.  Her morals are a subject for another time, but I’ll end with this: if mental gymnastics were a sport, Red Jessica would be an Olympian.       Thank you.

#god #this got long #tell me one of my special interests is psychology without TELLING me one of my special interests is psychology #x; AHOY MATEYS! { asks } #x; WHY AREN'T YOU A CLEVER ONE? { meta } #x; QUITE THE PIRATE GAL { portrait } #x; I WAS HOPING YA'D SAY THAT { meme } #mxdam

[recentlyheardcom]

Author in Montreal lashed out at a Palestinian woman bearing a flag on her car. She has since apologized for her "unreasonable" outburst.Warning: This story features video and details that are offensive in nature and may be disturbing to readers. Discretion is advised. Groups representing Jewish, Muslim, Arab and Palestinian communities in Canada are expressing feelings of isolation and fear, in light of the war between Israel and Hamas.A video that went viral this week of a Montreal woman with a Palestinian flag on her car being yelled at by another woman, who wishes sexual violence on her. Yahoo News Canada will not reveal the identity of either of the parties in the video.The driver tells the woman that she should be sexually assaulted and dragged through the streets in front of her kids, along with other strongly worded and demeaning names.Many in the comments expressed shock and concern, calling out rhetoric on the situation in the Middle East, as well as the double standard.This is what happens when every politician coast to coast, including and lead by our PM, eschews nuance and puffs their chest to conflate any and all support of Palestine and Palestinians with *terrorism* and we’re going to continue seeing this vitriol.Instagram commenter @noorieb"So she's against the torture of others but wants us to be tortured?! Make that make sense," wrote another.Woman in shocking video offers apologyThe woman in the viral video provided a statement to Global News, in which she apologized to the victim and described her actions as “unwarranted and unreasonable conduct.""To the woman who was the unfortunate recipient of my unwarranted and unreasonable conduct yesterday. From my heart to yours, I want to sincerely apologize to you, although, at this point, it feels like it’s not enough. I lashed out at you with words that are not in keeping with my values.“My anger was unfairly directed at you. I said terrible things to you, words that I still can’t believe left my mouth. I’m living with the shame of what I’ve done.“We are in a very tense time that I wish was not our reality. The video of my anger will live on forever, but I need you to know from human to human, I am deeply sorry and I genuinely hope for peace for everyone.”RELATED: Canadians split after Air Canada pilot removed over Palestine demonstration postsIslamophobia, anti-Semitism on the rise in Canada since attacks Uthman Quick is the director of communications with the National Council of Canadian Muslims (NCCM).He says since Oct. 7, the NCCM has seen a doubling of reports of Islamophobia, anti-Arab and anti-Palestinian racism.“With the conflict happening in the Middle East, we’re hearing from the community that the conflict is bleeding over here in Canada,” he tells Yahoo News Canada in an interview. “It’s creating tension and division. It’s setting back the work we’ve done innumerably.”Our community is telling us that they’ve felt isolated and blamed. We have students who’ve been in class at school and universities who’ve been asked to explain the actions of Hamas, which is absurd.Uthman Quick, Director of Communications, National Council of Canadian MuslimsHe says rhetoric and misinformation is a huge driver of the tension, and Canada authorities should be pushing for peace.'Incredibly concerning and disheartening' behaviourRich Robertson, with Jewish Human Rights organization B'nai Brith, says, similarly, there’s been a rise in incidents of concern against the Jewish community. He says this includes occurrences at weekend rallies in support of Israel, in which Hamas flags were displayed.The militant organization’s charter explicitly calls for the destruction of Jewish individuals.Robertson says that there was also anti-Israel graffiti on a bus shelter located in a predominantly Jewish neighbourhood in Toronto.“Of course many Jews in Canada harbour Zionist beliefs…but to target Canadian Jewry, some of whom have no connections to Israel and all of whom are proud of Canadian

citizens, for the most part, because of a conflict going on thousands of kilometres away, is incredibly concerning and disheartening,” he says.Robertson adds that the call for international worldwide action in support of Hamas, scheduled for Oct. 13, can lead to the targeting of Jewish institutions and members of the community.At this time of unprecedented trauma in the Jewish community in Canada, the likes of which we haven’t seen since the Holocaust, any form of additional grievance against us is debilitating. That’s what we’re nervous for. We’re still grieving at this moment.Rich Robertson, B'nai Brith representativeShould Trudeau warn Canadians?Both groups aren’t looking for Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to warn against potential violence, but would appreciate support.“There are calls for peace, unity and for the temperature to be lowered here in Canada, in schools and society, so that every day Muslims do not feel threatened and isolated because that’s what we’re hearing from our community,” says Quick.Robertson agrees.“Something affirmative from our officials is always reassuring in a time of need,” he says.

[percontaion-points]

Firstlife chapter 20

today’s review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 20

“I’m your mother.” 

“My mother is dead.” The words leave me, and I go still. A terrible thought hits me, and I can’t escape it. “Did you kill her? Did you kill my brother?” 

Her gaze implores me to listen, to understand. “I am your mother. You’re Fused with my Ashley. I know it. The timing was perfect—a sign. And you glowed so brightly, as only Generals do.”

Every single goddamned person in this hellish world is mentally ill. To make the situation worse, society is not only not treating any of it, but they are actively feeding into these delusions. 

“Yes, you were an assignment. At first. But I fell in love with you and—” 

“You never loved me. If you had, you would have told me the truth.” 

Irritation flares in his eyes. Irritation he quickly masks with faux hurt. “If I told you the truth, I would have lost you.” 

“You lost me anyway.” I did love this boy, but only a mirage of him. 

Feminine twitters draw my attention to the stairs. Killian stands at the top. He—is—gorgeous. Our gaze meet, and oh, the blood in my veins heats, sizzles and melts me. He’s here. He’s unharmed. 

Slowly he descends the staircase, every female he passes stopping whatever she’s doing to watch him. Some even try to gain his attention. A few reach out to touch him, but he’s focused only on me. 

“Him?” James snarls at me. “You want him?” 

At this point, I’d say that I’d want Richard M Nixon simply to spite that asshole. 

A girl I’ve never met sidles up and wraps an arm around Killian’s waist. He stiffens and flicks her off, but she doesn’t seem to mind the negative reaction, returning to rest her head on the crook of his shoulder. 

She looks me over. “Is she your flavor of the week? Well, I approve. Those mismatched eyes are striking, aren’t they?” 

He wraps an arm around my waist. “Excuse us.” As she stares in astonishment, he leads me away.

 “Another conquest of yours?” I ask. 

“There’s nowhere in the world you can go and not find one. I told you I was very good at my job, and I meant it. But...” 

I’m teetering on the edge of anticipation as I await his words. “But?” 

“You aren’t just a job.” He stops to cup my jaw, peer deep, deep into my eyes. “I didn’t like being parted from you today.”

Right. And how many other women has he said “You aren’t just a job” to?

A smiling Sloan peeks over his shoulder. “Actually, I think you’ll want to keep this one.”

Chapter 20 summary: So Pearl has shown up. The mentally ill Mryadian woman who thinks that Ten is the reincarnation of her twice-dead daughter, Ashley. She has her goons put a nasty-looking collar on Killian, and a group of them disappear to take him to the “kennel”. Then she shoots Archer’s shell, but Pearl is certain that Archer left before the shot. 

She then drags Ten outside, and forces her into a car. As they drive, she will not shut up about how Ten must accept her fate, that the two of them will be able to be together again, blah-blah-blah. Ten foolishly tries to kill her, but apparently forgot that it was nothing but a shell. Pearl leaves and comes back super quickly, so the entire thing was beyond pointless. 

She then forces Ten to do a spa day. Which I know that it sounds like such horrible torture to have a full body massage and her nails painted, but Ten is also there against her will. She knows that Pearl is hoping that Ten will be like “Mommy?!” and that the two of them will have a heartwarming reunion. But that also isn’t how reincarnation works. So even if Ten is Ashley, she wouldn’t remember anyway. She tells Pearl that if Killian is harmed in any way, she’ll sign with Troika. 

Once Ten is all pretty and in a pretty dress, Pearl drags her back to her childhood home, where there’s a bunch of people she doesn’t know for a party. James, her ex-boyfriend, is there, but he’s the last person she wants to see right now. Especially since he lied to her, and literally nothing about their relationship was remotely real in the slightest. 

But Killian shows up, tells James to fuck off, and starts leading Ten away. James goes, but comes back with Sloan. 

#Firstlife #Everlife series #chapter 20 #Madame Pearl #shitty leaders doing shitty things #Tenley 'Ten' Lockwood #what the fuck #James (Everlife) #Killian Flynn #shitty men are shitty #Sloan (Everlife)

[the-goldxnboy-hero]

[ [ ABOUT TANG XUAN. . .

.｡.:*☆ BASICS　

name: Tang Xuan alias: "Xuan" (friends, family) age: twenty ( 20 ) ethnicity: Chinese gender: genderfluid, transmasc pronouns: he/him, infrequently she/her (reserved for family) orientation: pansexual (no lean) occupation: Esper Union Ops Chief

.｡.:*☆ PHYSICAL

hair: long and orange, kept in a braid the majority of the time. his bangs are messily cut and hang in his face. eyes: orange-gold, with four-point stars at his pupil. height: 5'6" // 167.8cm weight: 153lbs // 69.4 kg build: tang xuan is built like a gymnast, body leaning more lean and with very little body-fat. his arms and legs are both strong, but he is not toned by any means. health: tang xuan is blessed with good health - he rarely gets sick and has a strong immune system. he is in good physical shape with extreme amounts of stamina. he needs reading glasses to read anything close-up. extras: two earlobe piercings on both sides // dimple piercings

.｡.:*☆ HISTORY

Tang Xuan's history is one that he views as somewhat unremarkable - raised by parents who got along well and with a near-constant companion in his brother. He and Tang Yun were inseparable for most of their childhood: where one was, the other was unlikely to be too far behind.

As the older twin (by mere minutes, as Yun would remind him), Tang Xuan was an incredible protective figure when it came to his brother. He did not mind being "one of the Tang twins," the brighter counterpart to a more gloomy Yun, but as time progressed he found himself longing to be recognized as himself instead of just being part of a pair.

The gift of Sun Wukong's powers gave Tang Xuan just that-- with the zeal and reckless enthusiasm of the Monkey King himself, Xuan threw himself into "hero work" without a thought. His chase for recognition and his impulsiveness that his powers encouraged left him outpacing his closest friend. By the time Tang Xuan had gotten his head on straight, his brother had drifted too far for Xuan to protect him anymore.

While he and Yun still speak on rare occasions, their relationship never quite recovered.

These days, Tang Xuan has mellowed out somewhat and treats his Esper duties with a respect that he had to learn-- responsible, cheerful, and determined to do good in the world, Tang Xuan marches ever-forward with a determined gleam in his eye and pride in his heart.

　　　　 　　　 　　　　· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

.｡.:*☆ MISCELLANEOUS

likes: pudding, fresh fruit, running, early mornings dislikes: being woken from naps, chili spices, coffee.

　 [ FUN FACTS: .｡.:*☆ tang xuan has some flavor of adhd. it presents itself often in his ability to focus, which is curbed typically by medication. he uses fidget toys discretely .｡.:*☆ he is incredibly flexible. while not quite to contortionist levels, tang xuan has a wide range of flexibility, which can make proper stretching a bit of a pain for him. .｡.:*☆ tang xuan leans towards pacifism. while he is fully capable of combat, he would rather talk through a scenario with people before resorting to violence .｡.:*☆ while he's definitely a mischief-maker, tang xuan is also something of a teacher's pet. he's terrible at lying to his direct authority (i.e: raven). .｡.:*☆ he's not fashionable. don't expect good fashion sense from him, he lives in hoodies and leggings 90% of the time.

.｡.:*☆ ALTERNATE VERSES

genshin verse: ABOUT // TAG

　　　　 　　　 　　　　　 　　　 　. . . END DOCUMENT ] ]

#[ 🎇 ] DOCUMENTATION ( muse info ) #do not reblog