#do i even /need/ to speak on the loss on innocence in this quote like seriously | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deviltoys · 3 years

Note

― this is my first time requesting so let's hope i don't fuck this up [lmao].

taking tobio's [who's the pastor's son] virginity and watching him ask for forgiveness for doing something so inappropriate in the church but then you proceed to degrade him. 🙇

— ‘𝘂𝗻𝗵𝗼𝗹𝘆 𝘃𝗼𝘄𝘀.’

tobio kageyama x top!male reader. (wc; ?)

#a/n: stop. this is my favorite request, ever. virginity loss ‘n blasphemy??? hello? too fuckin’ good, been cravin’ a good virgin tobio. thank you fer’ this, it was perfect!

warings. NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DNI, virginity loss, sacrilege, taboo acts, incest, age gap (18-30), pastor!reader, exhibitionism, sex in a church, misusage of the bible, religious speak, little to no prep, dumbification, creampie, degrading, manipulation, corruption, belly bulge, daddy k.

juvenile ministry took up a huge chunk of the church you operated. being the father to tobio kageyama, it was only natural that he was a frequent volunteer for the group of children who'd visit you both to be taught the righteous laws of god.

your boy was so doting with kids, it lay a smile across your lips to see him so devoted as you'd help demonstrate an array of practices to the youth. he was an apprentice of some sort— you two had a closely knit relationship when it came to chruch work.

almost a little too close.

nobody would ever suspect a thing, right? their nurturing pastor and his passionate son; they wouldn't dream of commiting any corrupt acts against the lord they so dearly fawned about.

the children certainly wouldn't know, such mindless followers. that's why during youth hours the two of you would mysteriously ‘disappear’ while everyone else contributed holy related activities to do while father y/n and tobio went to assist the lord.

you had be fighting the urge to take your son aside and tear his tiny body in half right there inside the sacred haven. but poor little tobio was a virgin, nobody would dare attempt to be the one who would strip the priest’s son of his innocence. you and the younger male had only gone as far as sucking on each others lips or caressing one another in sensual ways that would surely be forbidden by the church.

it was unethical practice to do anything under sexual pretense inside the chapel; with your offspring no less. you were already commiting unforgivable acts unbeknownst to your fellow ministers— what was one more? just another sin strewn onto the pile of ones you had been collecting throughout the years.

the line between faith and abandonment finally blurred out when you caught your little kageyama with pants a size to small for his waist. the fabric rode up, perfectly rounding out and drawing scrutiny to his chubby ass. you were well aware of the scandalous gestures he would send your way while he kept his attention on the children. wiggling his ass out every so often was his main form of communicating his intentions.

he was at last ready to make his daddy proud, giving his body to him as though you were christ himself; submitting to you.

all of his coherent brain function was corrupt by you a long time past, the degenerate acts you two would shun from the eye of society had finally caught up to him. he needed the embrace of his dad, his loving, heavenly father that would fill his holes up with the holy spirit.

“tobio, follow me for a second please? i need to speak with you privately for awhile.” a forged grin took reign of your lips, softly signalling for your son as you escorted him through the barren temple halls. after he had finished passing out coloring activities for the group to engross in, he swiftly followed your lead.

“yes father, what is it that-” you barely gave kageyama a warning before slipping your forearms under his thighs, entangling the remainder of his limbs around your lower and upper body. you lifted his smaller from with ease, hot breath tickling the shell of his ear as your tone dropped to a deep whisper.

“are you ready to give your body to our savior, tobio?”

“yes father y/n, yes i am.”

that was all the confirmation you needed to proceed with blessing him. abandoning your clothes at the altar of god, you began to strip the boy attached to your body. steadily yanking down his suit pants, your cock already springing to life as his own came into view.

it was insatiably erect, you forbid your son from even being curious when it came to exploring his hormones. you knew one day keeping him fresh, unexposed to lewd activity would come in handy.

and it did, oh god it did.

his body was sensitive to the touch, you were concerned he was going to cum without you even putting a hand near his bulge. much less before the fun started. it was like caressing a rock, he was so stiff, the tip already dribbling a tiny bit of pre by the time you were able to finish your first stroke to the hilt.

after giving a few more measly flicks to the head of his cock; you guided tobio’s naked body towards the bible you had prepped specifically for this occasion. the oak pulpit stood tall amongst the various rows of seats— at the head of the stand was kageyama; exposed, ass out, and face burried deep inside the open book sprawled out for easy reading.

he could barely squeak out the first few passages as your lube coated fingers spread his cheeks and stretched his virgin hole to a worthy size; able to fit your fat cock.

it burned and ached, the agony of your fingers poking around his walls overthrew any noticable pleasure that may have slipped in unnoticed; it was torture. he thought intimacy was supposed to feel good. he should've listened when you told him it wasn't fun, how it was a crime against god and how he'd be severely punished for doing as such until he was proposed to by the right man.

but you were the right man, at least that's what you would tell him. so why was it so discomforting, so harsh? you weren't purposefully harming him were you? the paranoia was getting to him, it was so overwhelming, the thought of the man he adored so dearly causing him pain. hot, salty tears pricked his eyes, lashes catching any access fluid as they could meanwhile the clear streaks dusted his cheeks with red.

his hole was still barely twitching with anticipation, and would be for awhile; throwing your head back, you painfully fed kageyama’s rim your length. every inch that ventured just as deep as the last forced strained hiccups to seethe from behind his teeth. he was unbearably tight, his guts sucked you in while his walls showed heavy resistance— pushing you in and out of your trembling son.

“fucking hell.. dumb bitch, you’re so tight. ease up, i thought you'd serve me better- maybe i was wrong.”

no no, you were wrong, right? he was great, such an obedient little cocksleeve just for you, all for you. all he ever did was to please you; the man who he chased after for years, claiming he wasn't as nice as he predicted? panick only settle into him more, ruthlessly he began bucking his hips to match your unenthusiastic thrusts. attempting to appease you wasn't an easy feat, but he was so utterly devoted to you that the condition of his vessel meant nothing if it meant you were proud of him.

he attempted to slur out a form of quivering tongue with a few biblical quotes shoved in-between. whatever he was reciting wasn't human, infact you couldn't tell if he was fucked out or just anxious. whatever it was, your words had preformed their purpose; you were far too impatient to fully prepare him for the world of sex. forcing him to mature on the other hand seemed to run it's course— he was the one himself impelling himself onto at the end of the day.

your arms snaked around his tiny waist, hoisting his feet up and off the ground. the entirety of his lower half no longer met with the floor, steamy tears teased eyes while the remainder of his efforts worked into engulfing you whole. the stimulation of being carried off the ground just like that was unimaginable; only to have his pussy pounded mercilessly into the wooden podium.

“ack! ah.. mm. daddy, pl- please i can do better! m’promise, don't hold back- i want to feel every inch of you!” so vulgar, you weren't aware of tobio’s filthy mouth.

angling your hips to perfectly kiss his prostate with every shift in your pace, you plowed repeatedly into the spongy skin until he was no longer babbling on about anything coherent. whatever bible quote he was now listing off was lost within euphoria; his hole was loosening up more and more with each thrust you planted deep inside of his stomach.

he know knew how desperately he craved seeing your cum gush right out of his gaping ass. more than anything in the world.

“hah, what a stupid whore, letting your father fill up your belly like this? no wonder you can't do anything but flatter me.”

“m’not a stupid whore, daddy i promise!”

the way his cunt squelched around you told otherwise, you didn’t let up on the insults; constantly bombarding the male with word after word. his trembling thighs and drool stained expression prompted you to continue the vile humiliation.

“oh-ho yes you are, you're lucky i’m even taking the time to fuck you like this. the lord wouldn't dare touch you, so why should i? you're charity work kageyama, nothing but pity.”

giving his plump rear a deathly tight squeeze, you ramped up the vigor in your movements. aching breaths escape your nose as you send forth more shivers down the length of his spine— as much as he wants to keep you satisfied he can only withstand so much. this is his first time being lost within the rapturous waves of an orgasm. religious words still on the tip of his tongue as your name bounces off the empty church hull.

there's a puddle of semen beneath you at his feet, he's cum far too many times for you to count and he's just now; once again fighting for release. his limp, shaking shaft all swollen as it spurts out the umpteenth load that session.

you swiftly follow behind, using the last bit of strength in your twitching thigh muscles— you sent your hips forward, fully submerging your fat cock down his rectum. he yelps almost violently, but he adores it. the way you use up his spent hole. the amusement in his moans fizzle once he finally comes to his senses, realizing there's no cum sliding down his guts and into his tummy. the expected feeling of warm, sticky fluid staining his intestines was the big prize he was looking forward to.

“don’t you remember, your only use is to please me tobio. and you couldn't even do that, that's why you don't get daddy's cum. understand?” a disappointed glare forms on your face, once he's luckily unable to see.

he implores like you've never heard from anyone before, you've had your fair share of sexual favours under the church’s nose. but the dark haired male in particular was one of a kind, he was begging you for your seed like his life was dependant on whether or not you fufilled his lustful desires. he needed your cum, right there, right now.

even attempting to guide your entirely hard cock right back into his enormous asshole, which you allowed. your composure was iron-willed, you knew you could cum on command if need be. giving into his sinful fantasies, you pistoned yourself balls deep once more— your hands moving his hips for him as he pleaded for the sweet release of your fluids.

“please daddy, m’such a good cum dump! i promise, please just cum inside of me. i need it, i’ll do anything! anything!”

anything indeed, you had just the thing in mind. and you were sure tobio wouldn't refute, how could he? there wasn't any other choice, it was your cum or no cum. simple as that.

#𓉔 — m.list #𓉔 — directory.#𓉔 — works.#c; tobio #kageyama tobio x top male reader #kageyama tobio x male reader #tobio kageyama x top male reader #tobio kageyama x male reader #haiykuu x top male reader #haikyuu x male reader #dark haikyuu #haikyuu smut #tobio kageyama

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sweetteaanddragons · 3 years

Text

Innocence

Nolofinwe’s first thought was that Feanaro had sired another son and neglected to mention it.

A second thought dismissed this as ridiculous, given a moment’s comparison between the age of the child (halfway to adolescence) and the length of time Feanaro had previously been able to resist announcing that he had another child (half a breath).

His second thought was that Curufinwe had sired a child, but given that then he would have had to miss both a birth and a marriage announcement, he was inclined to doubt it.

“I did say Atar was unavailable for a reason,” Pityo said helpfully from behind him.

“No,” Nolofinwe said after another moment of stunned silence spent exchanging stares with a bright eyed and half sized Feanaro, “you said, and I quote, “Atar is unavailable for - reasons.” Forgive me for assuming you were just trying to get rid of me.”

Feanaro had hopped up to perch on the scarred wood of his much abused workbench, presumably so he could continue the staring contest from a more equitable position. “Why do we want to get rid of you?” he asked. “Who are you, anyway?”

Nolofinwe blinked.

He wasn’t quite sure which sentence had hit him harder. It was probably better not to think about it.

“He doesn’t know who I am either,” Pityo in a voice that was clearly trying to substitute manic cheer for sanity. “I think an experiment went wrong.”

“How do you know it went wrong?” Feanaro demanded. “Maybe I was trying to do this.”

Well, at least some things hadn’t changed. “But we are accepting the premise that this was an experiment.”

Pityo looked helplessly around Feanaro’s workroom, with its profusion of strange tools, unidentifiable substances, and suspicious jewelry, as if to ask, What else could it be?

“That’s what the - my notes say,” Feanaro said, and the stumble revealed the first hint of uncertainty in this whole mess. “I think.”

Nolofinwe snatched up the closest sheaf of papers.

It immediately became apparent why Feanaro had not been able to make that statement with any more certainty.

“He’s developed another system of writing,” he said blankly. It was not quite a question. “Wasn’t coming up with one enough?”

Feanaro brightened. “I made a new system of writing? What’s it like? Will you show me?”

“It’s not a whole new system,” Pityo said at the same time. “It’s just his code. I suppose . . . “ And he gestured helplessly again, this time at his miniaturized father.

“I recognize some of it,” Feanaro said defensively. “And I figured out some of the rest. I’m sure I’ll get it eventually.”

“He’s stuck like this until he can decode his own notes?”

Pityo shook his head. “Curufinwe should be able to decode it. Probably. He taught it to all of us, it’s just . . . been a while.”

“He said I have seven sons,” Feanaro said. He sounded enormously impressed by this information. “Are you one of them?”

It took a lifetime of controlling his expression in court not to choke.

“No,” Pityo said, sounding horrified.

Nolofinwe was not particularly eager to hear how one of Feanaro’s sons would explain him.

“I’m your brother,” he said. “Nolofinwe.”

He was not at all prepared for the way Feanaro glowed.

Or for the way Feanaro flung himself off the worktable and wrapped himself around Nolofinwe like the octopus Arafinwe had once shown him.

Before Nolofinwe could react, Feanaro had already clambered up, tiny limbs jabbing into Nolofinwe and awkwardly pulling at the jewels pinned to his court finery, until Feanaro had secured himself firmly on Nolofinwe’s back, pointy chin digging into his head.

“There,” Feanaro said triumphantly. “Now I’m taller than you again.”

“Again?” Nolofinwe asked, automatically adjusting his grip on Feanaro’s legs to keep him from falling. He was abruptly thankful that Pityo had managed to dig up some child sized clothes before he got here.

“You’re my little brother,” Feanaro said matter-of-factly. “I’m taller than you.”

Nolofinwe was, in fact, about a hands-width taller than Feanaro, a fact that he was privately and perhaps bit embarrassingly proud of.

He resisted the urge to share this fact with his currently younger half-brother.

This bit of maturity was helped by the fact that he was still processing the look on Feanaro’s face when he had found out who Nolofinwe was to him.

He took a deep breath. “Back to our most urgent concern,” he said. “If Curufinwe is the only one who can translate these notes, where is he?”

Pityo bit his lip. “Out with the others, probably. We were all helping Makalaure set up for his performance at the festival tonight. I just came back to grab something and found . . . “

“Me,” Feanaro said, small arms temporarily squeezing tighter in their grip.

“Right,” Nolofinwe said. He resisted the urge to rub between his eyes. “I don’t suppose you have any idea why you were trying to make yourself younger in the first place? I assume you intended to keep your memories while you did so, but that still doesn’t explain the rest of it.”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it?” For once, Feanaro’s voice wasn’t smug, just matter of fact. “I was probably trying to figure out how to make other things younger and just tested it out on myself.”

“But why? We already have the means to preserve items - “

“But not animals,” Feanaro said, one arm releasing him so he could wave it excitedly. “Or we don’t, at least, and I bet you don’t either. If I could make this work, then people could have horses or cats that they’d never have to lose.” His voice was passionate with excitement for a project that wasn’t even really his, and for all the distance and anger between them, Nolofinwe didn’t have to wonder even for a moment why.

“But did you have to try it on yourself first?” he asked instead even though, rationally speaking, it was a waste of time to direct the question to Feanaro just now.

“I don’t think he did,” Pityo said. “There’s a loaf of bread on the table that I’m pretty sure was stale this morning, and when I opened the door to come in here, a kitten ran out. This was just . . . the next logical step.”

Nolofinwe gave him a flat look. Pityo jerked his chin up stubbornly.

Feanaro tugged on the collar of his robes to regain his attention. “Aren’t you even a little impressed, Nolo? I turned back time!”

“Of course it’s impressive,” he said, automatically reassuring. It had the benefit of also being true. “It’s just also insane.”

Feanaro was apparently not bothered by the second part of this because he settled back down almost immediately, pointy chin once again burrowing into Nolofinwe’s shoulder.

Pityo looked about to protest, but apparently he didn’t want Feanaro’s pointy chin any closer to his own shoulders because he kept his objections to himself. “Look,” he said instead. “I’ll go get Curufinwe and bring him back here to start working on things. I would have gone earlier, but I couldn’t leave him alone.”

And the last thing they needed was for word of this to spread around Tirion, which went unsaid.

Technically, of course, he was one of the people such word would have been kept from; there were a half dozen plans that could be pushed forward in the court with infinitely more ease with the knowledge that Feanaro would not be interfering for the foreseeable future, and Pityo knew it.

But it was hard to think of that while Feanaro was clinging to him like Nolofinwe’s own children had been too old to do for ages. And if Pityo hadn’t trusted him not to turn the situation to his own advantage, he at least trusted him enough to look after Feanaro now that he knew.

That was something.

So he just nodded, and Pityo took off like a deer with the whole hunt of Orome behind it.

When the door swung shut behind him, Nolofinwe turned his head so that he could better see Feanaro and said, “You’re taking this very well.”

He’d waited in case Feanaro took that as he cue to start not taking things well; he didn’t think the situation would be in any way improved by Feanaro bursting into tears in front of his son.

But Feanaro just shrugged. “It’s an adventure!” he said with a blinding grin that faded a bit into thoughtfulness. “And I’ve seen my notes in here and . . . and some of Amil’s tapestries upstairs. It looks like a house I’d have.”

And of course there was no reason to be concerned, Nolofinwe supposed; Feanaro was safe, there was no reason to suppose he’d ever be anything other than totally safe. This was Aman, not long ago Cuivenien, but still.

He supposed the world had changed since Feanaro was a child after all because he still couldn’t quite suppress a thrill of vicious vicarious unease. Feanaro in his right mind would not want to be this vulnerable, especially not in front of the half-brother that he now seemed for inexplicable reasons to adore.

But Feanaro was now squirming down from his place on Nolofinwe’s back. He let him down quickly, and Feanaro circled around and reclaimed his perch on the workbench, face suddenly very serious.

“Those weren’t the only things I saw upstairs,” he said. “I saw the bedrooms too.”

“Oh?” Nolofinwe said, at a loss as to why this, of all things, would upset a child-sized Feanaro.

Feanaro’s shoulders were tense. “I saw my bedroom,” he clarified, and when this still provoked no answer, his chin jutted out. “Don’t play stupid with me,” he insisted. “I saw. It was my bedroom, just mine. Something happened to their mother, didn’t it?”

His voice shook over the word “something.”

It probably said something too that he said "their mother" and not "my wife," but given his current age, mothers were probably an infinitely more comfortable topic, even considering the history of his own.

Nolofinwe sat down beside him. “Nothing happened to Nerdanel,” he said gently. Feanaro perked up just a little at the extra information he had just inadvertently provided, so Nolofinwe gave him some more. “That’s her name. She has hair just as red as Pityo’s, and she’s a sculptor. Her workshop should still be here. Have you seen it?”

Feanaro shook his head.

“She’s the best in Aman,” Nolofinwe said, and it was no empty flattery. “She’s gone to visit her family, that’s all. Nothing bad.”

“She went to visit her family, and she took everything with her?” Feanaro said skeptically.

Nolofinwe had come here hoping to discuss a few details of the festival with his brother before he went to push his case for the new university's funding in court. He had prepared for that. He had not prepared how to discuss the difficulties in his brother’s marriage with a child who wasn’t familiar with any possible difficulties in marriage beyond death.

“You had a fight,” he admitted.

Feanaro considered this. “Did I win?”

“That depends on how you define winning,” Nolofinwe said dryly. “But regardless, she is very much still alive.”

This seemed to satisfy Feanaro. At the very least, he moved on. “So how much older than you am I?” he asked, and there was a strange look on his face now.

Nolofinwe didn’t really see how the answer could do any harm, but something about the look on Feanaro’s face made him wary. “You had already started your apprenticeship when I was born,” he said, leaving at least a little ambivalence in case he needed it later.

Feanaro’s shoulders slumped a fraction, but he recovered quickly, leaning forward eagerly. “But I started that young, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he admitted. “You’d finished it before you were of age.”

Feanaro nodded, calculations running behind his eyes. “And I bet she didn’t have you right away,” he said, fingers tapping quickly, like a count. “They would have waited.”

“That’s . . . true,” he said warily.

“So it won’t be much longer then,” Feanaro said cheerfully. “From my perspective, I mean, I know it’s already handled here.”

Cheerfully?

Feanaro had apparently noticed his confusion because he rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot,” he said with a deep scorn that was far more familiar than any other expression he’d worn that day. “I know where babies come from. Atar couldn’t have given me a brother on his own.”

“Two brothers,” he said blankly. “Arafinwe - “

Feanaro grinned. “Even better.” But the grin faltered quickly. “Did she - blame me? When she came back, and you turned out alright, did she think it was my fault?”

When she came back.

He had wondered, earlier, just how old Feanaro was.

Too young, apparently, to know of his father’s decision to remarry.

That explained . . . a lot.

Feanaro’s face had crumpled in the face of his silence.

“Of course not,” he said. “Of course not, she would never blame you.” He wrapped an arm around Feanaro and pulled him closer.

Feanaro’s shoulders shook. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said, stubbornly not crying. “I’m not a baby.”

“She didn’t blame you,” he invented wildly. “She blamed Atar. But she forgave him, as Arafinwe obviously proves.”

It came out almost naturally. It would have been entirely naturally if it hadn’t belatedly occurred to him just how much trouble he would be in if Feanaro asked the obvious follow-up question and demanded to see her.

Thankfully, at that moment, the muffled sound of the door to the house banging open rang out, followed quickly by the door to the workshop slamming open in its turn.

Curufinwe ran through first, and Fenaaro’s jaw dropped at the older reflection of himself.

For his part, Curufinwe’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tears still trembling in his father’s eyes. Thunder clouds immediately began to form on his face.

Maitimo was a slightly calmer presence behind him, but his face was still flushed from moving too fast in formal robes in the summer heat. “Uncle,” he said, inclining his head. “We appreciate your assistance.”

Curufinwe opened his mouth. Maitimo very firmly snatched the relevant papers from the workbench and steered him to the other end of the workroom. Curufinwe went, though he kept sending rather understandable glances back toward his Atar.

Maitimo was gentler when he approached Feanaro, kneeling so that they were at eye level. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Maitimo. Did Pityo tell you who I am?”

“You’re the one with all the letters in your room,” Feanaro said, a little warily.

Maitimo’s mouth twitched up in amusement. “That’s right.”

Curufinwe was in sweat stained work clothes, but Maitimo’s were finer; he must have visited court before going to help Makalaure. Regardless, there were jewels glinting around his neck, and Feanaro, perhaps inevitably, was drawn toward them.

“Did I make those?” he asked eagerly, successfully distracted from his earlier distress, eyes tracing the chain of gold framed rubies that looked like sparks from a fire that wrapped from Maitimo’s shoulder to his waist.

Maitimo’s smile widened. “You did,” he said. “They were a gift for my first appointment of any real substance at court.”

Feanaro’s attention turned to Nolofinwe’s own court finery and the sapphires twisted into the silver circlet in his hair. “Did I make that?” he demanded.

Nolofinwe resisted the urge to wince. “You did not.”

That was no crime, of course; it was just that this piece in particular was very pointedly not made by Feanaro. It had, in fact, been made by a Vanyarin smith who had been trumpeted as their very best, and while the Vanyar were not generally known for their smiths, some had boasted that he could challenge even Feanaro’s skill.

Commissioning the piece had been a statement, a declaration that he was not ashamed of his Vanyarin heritage, that Feanaro’s supremacy was not unchallenged, that -

Well. A lot of things. Wearing it was also always a very deliberate jab, and it was one he had been wholeheartedly in favor of this morning.

But he couldn’t tell that to the painfully earnest Feanaro of right now.

“You’ve made me others, though,” he said, which was actually true.

There was the delicate silver bracelet that had likely been a long forgotten statement of some kind that Feanaro had gifted him upon his birth. He still had it tucked into a corner of his jewel box despite the fact it was now far too small to be of any possible use. There was the necklace Feanaro had presented to him when he was still very small, and Nolofinwe had been dragged out to Tol Eressea for the first time. He had been terrified of the shadows there and of the sky so dark that stars could peek through, and Feanaro had presented him with a chain of jewels that glowed when his tiny hands squeezed them. There had been a more formal piece too, a diadem, when he reached adolescence and was formally presented to the court. Feanaro had given it to him shortly after he confessed in a tense whisper to his nerves.

There had been a handful of more minor trinkets too, but those had trailed off after that last diadem. Feanaro had been . . . distant, frequently, in his youth, but that had often been a matter of physical distance as much as anything else, and the vast gulf in their ages. When that distance had been crossed, he had been - kind, in that fierce way of his, especially when Nolofinwe had felt weak and most in need of him.

It was when Nolofinwe had proven himself strong that the tension between them had truly arisen as a force in its own right instead of merely an echo of their parents’ lives. Childish fears of the dark had melted, and a gift for persuasion and rhetoric had sent him on a meteoric rise in courtly influence in their place.

It had not meant the end of gifts, exactly; Feanaro had as much desire to appease their father as Nolofinwe did, and so the gifts had continued at all appropriate occasions. It was just that they were never from Feanaro’s own hand anymore, and with only a few small exceptions, he strongly suspected them to have been selections of first Nerdanel and then Maitimo.

But there had been one exception, even to that. It had, ironically enough, been presented to Nolofinwe shortly after he had first worn the set he was currently draped in.

Unlike every other piece Feanaro had ever given him, the chains had been gold. Most of the jewels had been blue, glowing with a faint light, like the light of the Mingling reflected on the ocean, but the centerpiece, the largest jewel, had been like blood spreading on the water.

A violent image, but still beautiful.

It had been a statement, just like Nolofinwe’s own commission, only he had never been entirely certain of the extent of the statement involved. That it had been a defense of Feanaro’s superior craftsmanship was certain, and also a point it was difficult not to concede. The piece looked like a song given form, and it was difficult to tear his eyes away from it when it was in sight.

The rest of it, though - and there surely must be a rest of it - was less certain, and so for the most part, Nolofinwe left it quietly in its box.

Just this once, though, it surely couldn’t do much harm.

“If you’re still like this tomorrow, I’ll wear it then,” he promised.

Feanaro’s dark mood vanished for a moment before being replaced by new urgency. “We can’t wait that long! I have to be older again by tonight.”

Tension immediately reentered the room.

“Oh?” Maitimo asked with forced calm. “Did you see something concerning in your notes?”

Feanaro shook hs head. “No, but Pityo said Makalaure’s concert was tonight, and he said I couldn’t leave the house until I was back to normal, so I have to be back to normal by tonight, I have to.”

Maitimo smiled as the tensions slowly drained out again. “I’m sure he’ll understand, just this once.”

But Feanaro shook his head fiercely. “Atar always comes when he says he will,” he said firmly. “I have to do the same thing.”

“You can help me decode these if you want,” Curufinwe offered. “It would go faster.”

Feanaro hesitated a moment, but an encouraging smile from Nolofinwe sent off him quickly.

Nolofinwe looked after him for a long moment before turning back to Maitimo. “I hate to do this to you,” he said in a low voice, “but I do have other matters to attend to before the festival begins. If there’s nothing else I can do . . . ?”

“Of course,” Maitimo said. “Let me show you out.”

“Good,” he said, rising. “There’s a few things you should probably know . . . “

He explained his lies with a hint of guilt as Maitimo showed him to the door, but if Feanaro's eldest resented them, he said nothing of it.

He should at least say goodbye. He knew he should. He would be late to see Atar if he did, but Atar would never hold it against him, especially if he explained the cause.

He just - couldn't.

. . .

He hadn’t wanted to leave, exactly, but with both Feanaro and his sons pouring over the notes, Nolofinwe had little doubt the issue would be resolved quickly.

He simply preferred not to be standing right there when it was.

He had no idea whether or not Feanaro would remember what had happened. He wasn’t sure which alternative would be worse.

Either way, he would return to find things largely unchanged by his absence. He had resisted the urge to tell the king what had happened. They would have to if things persisted, of course, but he truly did not think they would, and in the meantime - it felt like a betrayal, as absurd as that was, to reveal Feanaro's joy at what could have been to anyone else.

Perhaps that was why as he dressed for the concert, he couldn’t quite help his hand lingering over a certain box.

It wasn’t quite what he had promised, but it was probably the best he could do.

And it was, after all, almost certainly the finest he owned. It was a shame to let a few complications keep it hiding in the dark.

. . .

(The concert is out in the open, great flocks of elves streaming through the festival streets to gather around the stage. Nolofinwe walks with his wife on his arm, waiting for the first golden note.)

(It is struck just as the Mingling starts. The light shimmers as it dances off the jewels on Nolofinwe’s chest.)

(For just a moment, through the crowd, he spots Feanaro, once more only a hand’s width shorter than Nolofinwe’s own height.)

(Feanaro does not approach him.)

(But his gaze catches on the dazzling jewels, and just for a moment, his half-brother smiles.)

#feanor #fingolfin #fic #silmarillion #de-aged

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thechangeling · 3 years

Text

Ok first of all this is based on my own personal feelings and preferences. Not every autistic person is going to agree with this list. If you are autistic and you have things you wanna add on then feel free just don't try and start fights with me I will block you.

Things to avoid:

-No more super smart genius type autistics. We already have enough. No more.

- Hot take maybe, but no more white boys. We already have enough.

- Don't make them a horrible asshole with no feelings or no respect for other people's feelings.

- Don't make them overly self absorbed or extremely selfish or narcissistic.

- That being said, don't make them a perfect saint either who is always kind to everyone. We can be occassionally cruel or selfish. We do make mistakes and hurt people. The trick is making sure that it's a balence.

- If this sounds complicated and contradictory... well yeah. The human condition is complicated and we are people. (Shocking I know/s)

- Don't characterize them like a child if they're an adult or a teenager. Don't infantalize them.

- If you make them have low empathy, don't equate low empathy to no feelings and no compassion.

- No more science or math special interests. Too many!!! Or trains!!

- Don't have their personal character development or big moments happen in someone else's pov. Or if they do, you HAVE to write about how they feel about it at some point.

- Don't make them have a perfect memory I'm sick of that shit.

- Don't make them absolutely perfect at their special interest or know absolutely everything about it. We make mistakes sometimes.

- Don't describe them as special or gifted or blessed.

- If other characters say ableist shit about them, make sure the narrative clearly shows that it's wrong.

- Do not make the autistic character forgive someone for being ableist and immediately become friends with them.

- Do not use person first language, functioning labels, or the term aspergers.

- Do not give them a bad fashion sense. My flawlessly dressed autistic self is sick of this.

- Don't have them not understand any figures of speech or metaphors. This is overdone. Some autistic people are fine with most figures of speech once we know what it means and will even use them.

- DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT CONSULT AUTISM SPEAKS!

- Do not take advice from parents with autistic children.

- Don't have them using super fancy language. Sure some autistic people talk like that but not many in my experience.

Things to do:

- This one is crucial. In all my 21 years on this earth I have NEVER encountered a canon autistic character that was allowed to hold a grudge for a significant amount of time. LET US HOLD GRUDGES 2021!!!!

- Let us be angry! Especially if you are writing a female character!! And do not demonize her for her anger.

- Let us do adult things if you are writing an adult character. Or teenage things if you are writing a teenage character. This involves swearing, drinking, dressing proactively, driving or engaging in sexual relationships and having sexual feelings. Not every adult needs to do these things to be an adult of course, but we are usually gate kept from doing these things because we are infantalized.

- Ace and Aro autistics absolutely do exist! However autistic people are usually stereotyped as not having "those kinds of feelings" so if you really want to make them aro or ace or both, really examine why.

- If you do make them ace please don't make them a "sweet innocent baby who doesn't even know what sex is"

-Just please don't fall into bad stereotypes for ace and aro characters.

- Give them diverse special interests like random movies or tv shows. We tend to like scifi and fantasy a lot. But that's not a given.

- Make them artsy or give them an interest in music. Maybe make them a singer or have them play in a band?

- Do make them a fan of rock or alternative or indie music!!! I never see that! Or even heavy metal!

- Preferably make them queer/LGBTQ we tend to not be straight especially if you're afab.

- Most of us are nonbinary, I would suggest making your autistic character nonbinary but you don't have to.

- Have them be more sensory seeking then sensory avoidant

- Have them be a motion stimmer or an auditory stimmer (have them stim by blasting music or dancing or jumping up and down, spinning around in circles, spinning on a rolling chair etc.)

- Give them an interest in fashion or makeup (not neccesarily a special interest.)

- Let them have other interests besides a special interest. We have other things we like, they just aren't as importent to us.

- Have them be stubborn but understand why and make sure the readers/audience understands.

- WRITE THEIR POV!!!!

- Write them having shutdowns instead of meltdowns.

- Don't have them constantly compromising on shit or compromising easily.

- Write them having a completed relationship with morality and "goodness."

- If they aren't aro, write them feeling very intense romantic love that consumes and overwhelmed them.

- Have them feeling very intense emotions in general.

- Have them showing love in autistic ways, ie bringing people gifts and quoting shit, parallel play etc.)

-If they are not ace or ace but not sex repulsed, if they are an adult, and you are comfortable writing it have them be hypersexual and also preferably kinky. This is actually really common in my experience.

- Have them show frustration at having to live in a neurotypical, ableist world that wasn't made for them.

- Have them struggle with communicating their feelings and finding the right words to describe their feelings.

- Have them use quotes to describe their feelings or song lyrics.

- Let them be entitled to their space and their freedom.

- Give them trust issues. Look I don't want to be defined by trauma any more then the next autistic person, but it's kind of where we're at you know?

- Have them be a little paranoid about whether or not people actually like them.

- Let them have stuffies and stim toys and chewies. They don't have to be store bought they can be home made.

- Have them be hyper-empathetic. I've never seen an autistic hyper-empathetic character before.

- Have them be good with cats.

- Have them be a good dancer/enjoy dancing.

- Have them do facial stims like scrunching up their face or twitching their nose.

- Have them lose speech during a meltdown or a shutdown and have to write things down or use a communication device for awhile.

- Have them be a bad student or struggle with school.

- Have them hate math please I will love you forever!!!!

- Have them engage in echolalia (when you hear something that sticks out to you and you repeat it back over and over again)

- Make them sarcastic! Lots of autistic people are actually really sarcastic.

- Have them struggle with executive dysfunction.

- Show them showing signs of autistic happiness!! Like happy stimming. When I get really excited I tend to shreak and jump up and down or I flap my hands or bang them against a nearby table.

- Allow them to fuck up.

- In terms of grief, have them have very emotionally delayed reactions to grief. I reccomend research autistic peoples experiences with loss specifically if you are going to make this part of the story.

- Have them experience a lot of emotional delays where things don't hit them right away.

- Have them disassociate in traumatic situations.

- Make sure in general you understand their motivations as you're writing them. Don't just have them do things because "weird quirky autistic character!"

- Give them autistic friends and let them interact with the community!

I know I'm probably forgetting stuff, but this is all I can think if for now. If you have any questions about anything or any of the points I made let me know.

#actuallyautistic #autistic representation #autistic writing references #cw sex mention #cw kink mention

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captainsdolly · 4 years

Text

Steve taking your virginity (hc)

Beware of the monster cock y’all and, to quote my bio, I may not be a good writer but I’m excellent at being a hoe

18+ only!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, Steve’s monster cock, daddy kink, size kink, a bit of blood (cuz he popped that cherry), a bit of fingering, dom Steve, innocent reader

Requested by @donutloverxo

Not proof read, sorry for any fuck ups also the ‘read more’ thingy doesn’t work I’M SORRY

Steve is a patient man and all he wants is for you to be happy and comfortable

Which is why he has been waiting with trying to get into your panties, what a gentleman

But then, one night, after he comes back from work he tells you he’s taking a weekend off and he wants to take you for a little trip

And now here you are in your bedroom, you glance towards Steve as he’s packing his bag and then you see it

A bottle of lube

Your cheeks heat up and he looks at you, his smile oddly innocent

“Are you okay, baby?”

“What’s that, daddy?”

He looks at the bottle and then back at you, chuckling quietly

“Something extra we might need this weekend”

Fast forward, you’re in a nice B&B, there’s a lake just outside your window, it’s so romantic

But you didn’t have the time to appreciate it because you’re laying on the bed with Steve hovering over you, peppering kisses along your neck and shoulders

And you’re squirming because his hand is traveling a bit further than you’re used to

It slides below the waistband of your jeans and your heart stops when he unbuttons it

“Daddy wants to try something new today, baby girl. Something that is meant for big girls only. Can you be a big girl for daddy tonight?”

You playfully shake your head “no” and Steve laughs, kissing your nose, his hands sliding your jeans off of your legs

“No? You wanna be my little girl?” he smiles softly, taking off your shirt

It’s nothing new, he’s seen you in your underwear before, so you think nothing of it when he takes his shirt off too

You absentmindedly bite on your finger as Steve sits up on his hunches, and strokes himself through his pants

His eyes look different though, they’re dark and he looks like a hunter getting ready to pounce on its prey

He takes your hand in his and guides it to his hard on and you gasp, looking up at him with your big, innocent eyes

“Daddy wants to put it in you tonight. Is that okay, baby doll?”

You bite your lip, pretty fucking sure it won’t fit, but you nod

“That’s my brave girl”, he says as he takes his jeans off, he throws his boxer briefs on the ground and you nearly faint just at the sight of this monster cock, angry red, swollen and already leaking

He starts stroking it, grabbing the bottle of lube and explains that “your tight little virgin pussy is going to need a lot of it”

Next thing you know you’re naked and Steve traces his lips along you stomach, but he never gets to your pussy

He pulls back instead, looking into your eyes and he lets out a growl when he sees your cute pout and doe eyes

“Daddy’s finally going to fuck his pure little girl. Gonna take your innocence, baby”

His voice low as his fingers dance around your opening before he inserts one inside

He moans at how tight you are and you whimper, your arms wrap around his neck and he leans down to kiss you

It was supposed to be a small peck but he slides his tongue inside, loosing himself in the feeling of your wet hot cunt around his finger

So he slides another one and you squeal into his mouth

He doesn’t pull back though, his lips still touching yours as he looks at you with fire in his eyes

“Gotta open you up baby. You think you could take me without being prepared first? You’re too little for that”

He scissors his fingers inside you and your legs shake as he pumps in and out of you before pulling out completely

“Daddy... this is scary” you whisper as he moves between your legs

“Oh baby... Do you not want it? Do you want to stop? You can stop me whenever you want”, his voice soft as he goes from daddy dom to soft daddy dom Stevie in a matter of seconds, all it took for him was your weak, quiet voice

But you want it so that’s what you tell him

“I’m just scared it’s going to hurt, Daddy”

Steve hums, stroking your cheek lovingly, as he rolls his hips against yours

“It’ll only hurt for a minute. I’ll stop if you need me to”, and with that he reaches for the lube and applies it on his cock and on your pussy

He slides his cock between your pussy lips and his jaw twitches as he realizes how tiny your pussy is compared to his cock

This thought made his pre cum drip directly on your clit and you moan, your legs wrapping around his waist

He takes the base of his cock in his hand and you feel his tip at your entrance

Your legs shake a little and he kisses your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids as he slowly pushes his tip in

You don’t moan. You don’t gasp. You fucking scream and Steve’s fisting the sheets as he sees how your pussy opens for him

“Stevie, daddy...” you whine, your palms pushing against his shoulders but your legs wrapping around him even tighter so like??

“I know, I know, you’re okay baby, you’re doing so good”, his voice strained and he swallows thickly, not able to tear his eyes from the sight of you pussy practically being split in half

He wraps his arms around you to hold you closer and looks into your eyes as his cock slides in further

His heart breaks a little when he sees the tears in your eyes but you’re not stopping him so he keeps pushing

You feel your walls struggling to accommodate him, you literally feel like his cock is splitting you not even in half but in like four fucking pieces

Your nails dig into his back and he starts kissing you as he finally bottoms out, wiggling his hips a little to make sure it’s all in

You whine as he pulls away to look down and you whimper as he bares his teeth and growls

“Would you look at that, my tiny little baby can barely take it”

He takes your hand and places it on your tummy

You can feel his fucking cock in there and you can see the shape of it when you look down

And then he starts moving, slowly at first, still letting you adjust

You cling to him and he holds you close, but he’s holding back really fucking hard

His thrusts speed up just a little as he feels you relax around him

You’re not in pain anymore but you’re still struggling

And fuck it makes him leak right into your poor stretched cunt

He sits up with a low growl, one of his hands rests on your collar bone while the other grips your hip to keep you in place

His hips snap against you harder and faster and you can hear the bed banging against the wall

Your whines and whimpers turn into moans, Steve’s thumb moves to draw tight circles on your clit

You cry out, your hips would probably jerk but he’s holding you down

“You gonna cum, baby? Squeeze Daddy’s cock even tighter? Show me what that pretty pussy can do, baby”, he can barely speak between his thrusts as he leans back down again, his hips colliding with yours so hard the bed isn’t just moving, it’s fucking jumping

“Oh god, Daddy, I’m gonna cum”, your legs start to shake and your eyes roll back as your whole body starts spasming, wave after wave of orgasm hitting you so hard you think you’re gonna pass out

“Ah, fuck!” He bellows as he feels how tight you’re squeezing him and he wraps you in his arms completely, making sure you stay still as he nears his orgasm

Every thrust is accompanied by a growl and you just lay there limply, your body rocking with his movements and you can barely breath

“Gonna cum in that tight pussy. Make you mine. Tell me you’re mine”, he growls, and you feel him pulsating inside you

“I’m yours, Daddy. I belong to you”, your voice weak, you sound fucked out and you barely even know what’s happening

Because you came so hard

Steve lets out a sound that straight up sounds like a fucking howl as his hips snap harshly against yours a couple more times

“Fucking coming!” he bellows, as his thick cum shoots right into you beaten pussy, his thighs tremble a little and he bites down on your shoulder

When he finally relaxes, he lets himself just lay on top of you, as you both catch your breaths

Finally he pulls away and looks down at you, a soft smile on his lips when you open your eyes and look up at him

“Hey”, he says quietly and you respond with a barely audible “hi”

“Are you okay, babygirl? How are you feeling?”, he whispers, slowly pulling out of you

He nearly pushes back in when he sees how swollen and puffy your poor little pussy is

You smile up at him, your eyes hooded and your hair a mess

“Now I really belong to Daddy”

“Yes, you do”, he chuckles, leaning down to kiss you lips softly

He then leaves the bedroom to bring a warm washcloth and as he cleans you up, he can’t help but gently stroke your hair at the same time

Because you’re passing out

And he doesn’t tell you about those couple drops of blood because he knows you’d freak the fuck out

So he lays besides you and wraps you in his arms, not sure if you’re already asleep or not

“I love you, babygirl. I love you so much”, he whispers, kissing the top of your head

“I love you too, Daddy”

You yawn and he coos at you because it’s so fucking cute

He kisses your cheeks and strokes your hair until you fall asleep

And then fucks you again in the morning

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #my writings

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papers4me · 3 years

Text

Fruits Basket, Se03, ep10 (part 1)

“ What to do? & how to do it? the answer & the method are so simple, so simple but difficult as hell. it was hard for me to get them, & that’s exactly why I treasure them/ makes them valuable”. kyo~ This is my favorite quote in all anime.

How many times a domestic abuse victim was told just leave this abusive partner? report them? easy. just make a call. Report your abusive parents? tell someone. easy. Just speak up. It is true. It is easy but difficult as hell. To believe it is your right to fight. No, to believe you deserve to fight. to Live. This abuse is not a punishment you must endure. Hope is not dead. How simple yet so difficult to do that. ugh! my heart!

- Seeing Death vs Facing Death: ( The abuser who was stopped):

Abuse is a form of slow death. An actual intentional murder of an innocent soul. Abusers suck the life out of their victims & kyo’s biological dad is the poster monster for that. His appearance:

thin deathly demeanor, lack of nourishment, excessive drinking, lack of desire get out of the abyss, wide eyes, tiny pupils, manic laughter. shaky body movement. pathetic outlook at things.

heavy breathing, lack of logic & distorted facts, blurry speech, bizarre mentality, toxic behavior, tendency to hurt, injure, both physically & verbally.

inability to grasp reality, desire for inflecting pain on others, finding joy in that as it justifies his entire toxic mentality.

Fear of being hurt like he hurt others & being paranoid since he KNOWS he should receive punishment.

Kyo stood watching this man spit, rage, shake, scream. The man from his past, the authoritative figure in his early tender years, the person who must always be right: a parent. Facing his dad, Kyo’s entire gradual change was fantastic:

Kyo went from feeling utter fear from this man, hatred towards him, grief at the loss of a father & a mother, to force himself to stand his ground & not leave” easy but difficult as hell“ , to talk ” easy but difficult as hell“ , to announce that isnt gonna die ” easy but difficult as hell“ to say I’m loved & I want to to be with someone ” easy but difficult as hell”

to then realize the source of his mom’s misery isnt him after all, but this jerk! & not crumble at this realization ” easy but difficult as hell“ to grief over his mom’s tragic life & still announce again that he’s anit throwing his life away ” easy but difficult as hell“ to still look at his dad with pity rather than immense hate & anger ” easy but difficult as hell“ to remove his hand & leave him behind in the past while he moves forward ” easy but difficult as hell“ to say “ i’ll come visit again, cuz I anit afraid of you anymore, I’m not running, but I’ll try to extend a hand if you wanna do the same one day. It is your choice to be the abuser who must be stopped or the one who is atoned! you can choose, dad! We heard his choice as kyo was leaving, didn’t we? locking himself in an eternal cage that he made for himself. After all, he is the monster in his own story by his own choice.

-Seeing death (1): Kyo watching his mom’s suicide is a traumatic experience especially considering she chose such a graphic way to exist this world. Kyo once said to tohru “ mom went flying”, he now said“ mom threw her life away” very graphic ways to explain her death both literally & figuratively. This alone coupled with his father accusing him, resulted in a 4 year old screaming” I’mma yuki & kill myself, this would make you happy, dad”. This explains kyo’s 2 meetings with yuki as kids“ I hate you” at the sohma estate, the 2nd meeting “ I hate you” at the street. Mimicking the toxic behavior of the dad. Why didn’t kyo mimic kazuma? cuz trauma doesn't work like that. Kids can live safely for time then one traumatic experience shatter their self-worth into an endless cycle of self-hurt, low self worth & anger issues or withdrawal. The writing that set kyo/yuki against each other is perfect.

-Seeing death (2): Kyo watching kyoko’s death hammers all the insecurities of child kyo deep down into teenage kyo. Kyoko too, went flying, blood everywhere. too much pain happening again, crashing hope & killing his fighting spirit over & over. Be with tohru? why? to kill her, too?

-Seeing death (3): Kyo watching tohru’s injured body. Yup. You caused this. not by pushing her or failing to catch her. No. but by hurting her with harsh words. by forcing her away from you.

-Facing death (1): Kyo facing his dad, the symbol of deadly-abuse. To stand & announce to live is huge. -Facing death (2): refuse death: being caged till death, -Facing death (3): To say, I wanna be loved & love someone, life is not just being outside, heck! kyo was outside for 17 years! life is abt being with those who give it meaning! -Facing death (4): To not demand others to die as a punishment. Walking away from his dad without igniting the cycle of revenge & hate. ahhhhhhhhhh~~~ Chef’s kiss!

-Seeing eye to eye: ( I don’t need to be you, but I appreciate you):

Kyo & yuki toxic relationship has been ongoing since their birth. The moment kyo’s dad was dismayed that he got the cat of all zodiac & the moment yuki’s mom was delighted she got the rat of all zodiacs. From that moment it became: look how lucky the rat parents? You shamed me? Look how pitiful that cat? eww! stay away from his filth. The explosive nature of kyo’s tragic fate tainted him with the blood of his mom & the daggers of his father’s hateful words, while the nature of yuki’s sheltered & locked fate tainted him with fear & isolation. They meet & both carry out the feelings of rejection & hate all while envying the other. The toxic nature of their relationship consist of fights & condensing words. Tohru connected both. Through her, they became civil. Even talking abt perverted shigure. Now that she is hurt, they are lost without her. Their lives are empty.

Yuki’s “ kyo has his own pain & reasons” (to not see tohru) is my fave line! even better than all the epic lines after they confess their feelings. cuz this like happened before they connect. it shows that, I see his pain, I get he has his reasons. But whatever issues he have shouldn’t hurt tohru. this is when yuki interferes in kyo’s choices. For tohru. This is also when kyo really allows him to. For tohru. Had tohru nor be part of the fight, kyo wouldn’t even engage in it & yuki wouldn’t initiate it.

-“I wanted to be you!” : Kyo said it first. I loved this so much! Cuz kyo said I hate you first! it is so fulfilling that the truth is now out. From kyo first. Cuz really... that hate was all toxic inheritance from a toxic father & a toxic system.

- “Why do you have to say it firs!” Yuki was mad, cuz he was struggling with it for the longest time. to be kyo. He even mused on how kyo interacted with ppl in school, got himself his own mini kyo. lol. studied how kyo filled tohru’s world just by existing. yuki can't do that for tohru. he looked for someone whom he could do that for! yuki/machi scene at her house paralleled kyo/tohru scene at her room when she was sick (se01, e023) & when they eating the somen together (se02, e02), yuki/machi chalk scene paralleled kyo/tohru scene at the beach where he coaxed tohru to tell her mom’s story (se02, e07). Yuki really was having a hard time finding his true self & accepting it without needing to learn from kyo. It is hard to say “ i admired you” after being rejected by you! so kyo saying it first helped yuki say his after. Also, both boys were hella shocked they admire each other. Like both were deeply shocked! stupid boys! XD

Side Notes:

Kyo’s confrontation with his dad is furuba’s most powerful scene & most well-written one! From the fear of facing him, to talking to him with low voice, to physically stopping him, to the exposed last piece of locked memory abt the mother, to the freedom gained by walking forward! Heck, even how it was weaved psychologically to perfectly mimic children’s self-defense mechanisms & children copying their parents theme. The realistic depiction of abusers both in their most powerfully menacing moment & in their weakest cowardly moment. Top-tier writing! Hands down my fave furuba scene! Can’t ask for better! Can’t even imagine better! genius- writing Takaya-san!

The boys had a necessary fight & confrontation & the yuki’s entire speech was valid & perfect speech. However, as usual, I’m not a fan of how violence is depicted in furuba. I was actually “warned/ ordered” by an anon to not “ sh*t” on the boys fight scene. I don’t know why someone who’d read my reviews would think i’d have anything but love for both boys. I criticize the writing not the characters. Also, furuba fans have always been good to me, I state my opinion frankly & they talk to me! “ talk!”. You don’t have to throw virtual fists over different perspectives on fiction. Talking kindly does magic, also having different opinions is natural & normal for humans.

I love yuki so much, he’s one of my top faves in furuba & I get why the boys would quarrel & throw fists. I get the history between them, the current state of mind, their emotions & mentality & I get it’s fiction & drama that needs its “ OMG” moment. However, I cringe when I see violence used as a bonding moment in fiction in general. That’s just me. I wish the fight was done in a more artistic style without showing that scene where yuki corned kyo & punched him in full view of the screen. (again not hating on yuki nor the fact that they needed to fight). I’m jus saying I didn't need to see a one-sided beat up from a character I love to another one I love. That’s just me again~ feel free to enjoy this moment to its fullest. It’s fiction & I’m not judging anyone at all, nor hating anyone from real life or fiction <3<3<3.

Yuki’s last piece of character development is in my part 2 review! Along with machi. Also, yuki’s Japanese VA was awesome!!

Also, let yuki have deep various facial expressions!!!! ugh! In the fight scene they did yuki so dirty with his hair covering his eyes all the time! then followed by low quality shots of him breathing! Why?! The voice acting sold the entire excellent emotional rage more than the animation! Yuki can look pretty even when mad, heck! screw looking pretty! just give him deep facial expressions to mach his feelings! boy was hella mad like he never was his entire life! always forced to wear a mask or be diplomatic! now he’s screaming his lungs out, you hide his face??? really?? Sigh~ the anime always do this wit yuki, replace facial expressions with hair on eyes or having his eyes without light. I wanna see them expressive eyebrows so bad!!!

Another powerful VA performance was both kyo’s dad VAs! both the Japanese (with his excessive breathing) & the English VA (with his range). They sold the mad abusive character! they gave me chills!

Also, I sound like a broken record, but kyo’s both VAs did phenomenon in the dad’s scene & tohru’s scene. Honestly, I only watch the dub to hear Jerry! I learned his name & would watch the dub for him!

Akito, Arisa, Kureno in part 2 of my review as well.

Shigure/yuki returning home scene is call back to ep1. Ok, everybody loves a call back scene & the full circle thingy. but C’mon! you dont have to copy everything! the walk, the scenery, its purpose, dialogue & all! The anime really took advantage of kyo being missing. XD

Tohru’s dress/top color matches the color of kyo’s old hat (The hat). symbolic of him finding her? As if he did find her when they were children? cool. I love this detail. But i do NOT love this color on tohru at all !! lol. it is so dull on her. The dress style/ design mimics her same dress in se01, ep26 as she was talking to kazuma & kyo fought him. Their first intimate moment after nearly loosing the other. Heck! tohru was even hurt on her hand as well. but the color was a nice pastel yellow. It suited tohru. The hat’s bluish-greenish color matches tohru’s own pajama at home!!!! & kureno’s hospital pajama! T_T... why couldn't the hat be red!!!! a color that both represent kyo & yuki! both were compared to red before~ oh well~~ minor issue~

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #happy paper #final season #part 1

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roselen-mylady · 3 years

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the game | part two

Part One

Steve hated to admit it but he had always been a jealous person. As a child he was jealous of the way so many other kids had dads that tucked them in at night. As a teen he was jealous of how easily Bucky made women swoon. As an adult he was jealous of Stark when he attempted to woo Peggy. And now he was jealous because it seemed everyone but himself was able to easily talk and even kiss Y/n.

Oh how badly he had wanted to.

And he almost did during that game of spin the bottle. Yet he'd lost his nerve. And lost his chance.

Thor's laughter had drawn his full attention toward the pair. Not that his eye had ever left Y/n but now the man before him was blatantly being ignored as Steve's entire focus was on Y/n and Thor. He strained to hear whatever was being said by her but he could hardly pay attention as Thor lifted her into the air and spun her around like a princess.

He could've done that.

His blood nearly boiled as he watched Thor kiss her. It was innocent, he knew that, but he just couldn't help it. He was angry at the world and Thor but mostly himself.

Before Thanos he thought he'd have all the time he needed to work up to confessing his feelings for her while she stayed in Wakanda watching after his best friend. But when she was snapped away he realized he had made a horrible mistake. A mistake he regretted every minute of every day during those long five years.

But now he had a chance to fix it.

Yet he hadn't been able to talk to her since she returned. The friendship they'd had before then was bashful but strong yet during her absence he had distanced himself from the idea of her in order to cope.

When she returned all the emotions he felt came rushing back in waves. And he was still blowing it.

•••

"I'm so tired of watching these two pine after one another." Wanda spoke suddenly, making Bucky turn toward her, dragging his gaze away from the pair.

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, looking back at them as Wanda came to stand at his side, watching them with him.

"You mean you haven't noticed? Y/n's in love with Steve. Steve's in love with Y/n. It's agonizing to watch, really." She sighed, rather vexed with the entire situation. It was her after all who had watched them through the years. They'd known each other ever since before the accords and all that time they'd had an awkward friendship in which feelings were obvious on both ends yet neither had the courage to act.

She hated to imagine how Y/n's death might've affected him but yet it still hadn't given him the will of the courage to act. It pained her to watch the two fall back into their old ways.

"Y/n loves Steve?" Bucky mumbled, disbelief evident in his features. Wanda nodded, her eyes trailing Y/n as she made her way to Peter, who was standing haphazardly close to Steve.

"More than life itself, though she'll never admit it. I saw it when I had to enter her thoughts years ago during a mission we had in Germany." Wanda explained. She remembered the overwhelming feeling of Y/n's emotions. They crashed into her stronger than any wave could and even after all these years they were just as strong.

"Then why haven't they done anything?" Bucky asked. He looked down at her finding the same lost expression on her face that was more than likely on his.

"I don't know. Y/n told me last week the same thing she told me all those years ago. Things are too complicated and she can't risk losing him if he doesn't feel the same." Wanda quoted Y/n, her annoyance seeping through her words.

Bucky scoffed, recognizing the excuse as something very similar to Steve's and he shook his head, feeling the same defeat Wanda did. "Just like them to be too stupid to be happy." He groaned, looking up at them.

"Yeah. But hopefully when he kisses her one of them will do something." Wanda hoped her statement might encourage their boldness.

"Unless it's a repeat of spin the bottle." Bucky said, dreading the chance that it might happen. Wanda cringed, shaking her head.

"Y/n won't allow it. She takes the game too seriously." She replied, more to convince herself than Bucky. It was true. Y/n would get Steve to kiss her whether it was for the win or her own motives. That is if her nerves didn't take over.

"Let's hope."

•••

"Well, if it isn't Spiderman." Y/n called out, grabbing Peter's attention. He smiled brightly, finally being called by his preferred name and not Spiderboy.

"Ms. Y/n! What-what are you doing here?" Peter's sore attempt at small talk made him wince but thankfully Y/n didn't seem to mind, looking down at his glass.

"Just mingling. Whatcha drinking?" She asked curiously, wondering if Tony had allowed the poor boy a drink while dealing with all the people who no doubt asked him millions of questions regarding his presence and age.

"Sprite. Mr. Stark said he can't allow me to 'drink and swing'." Peter adjusted his glass, using his fingers as quotations before letting out a short giggle at the phrase.

Y/n laughed as well, trying to appear relaxed as she felt a certain pair of eyes on her. Steve was standing just a few feet away with Tony, not within earshot but close enough to send butterflies to her stomach. With each kiss she collected she felt more and more anxious knowing eventually she'd reach Steve. Was she ready for that?

"Well, that simply won't do. It's a party, Peter, and I can't allow you to not drink. When I was your age Tony was slipping me drinks left and right, it's only fair I pass on the tradition." She explained, leaning forward carefully as her hand brushed his.

He blushed, his eyes widening like saucers as she skillfully slipped his glass out of his hand, replacing it with her own. Glancing at Tony as if expecting to be caught, he was relieved to find his father figure blissfully unaware of their treachery.

"Ms. Y/n, I really shouldn't-"

"Don't worry, I'll drive you home if you're that worried. I got you bro." Y/n promised, nudging his arm with a kind smile. "Now tell me you've at least tried champagne. You've been to like three of these parties now." She laughed her smile growing as he joined in.

"Yeah, well, I mean a little bit from my Aunt May's glass." Y/n shook her head, putting her hand on his shoulder, a dramatic look of sorrow on her face.

"My poor boy. I have many things to share with you. Speaking of which, Shuri is asking if you're coming with me to Wakanda next week." Y/n sipped the soda watching as Peter's fingers danced happily against his own glass.

"Really?! I mean, of course! If you want me to. I've never been, what's it like?" Peter rambled, his face lit up in excitement, making Y/n chuckle at how thrilled the boy was.

"You'll see soon enough. I'll come get you next Friday and bring your suit, I'm sure Shuri would love to tinker with it." Y/n advised. Peter nodded wildly, psyched for such a trip.

"Thank you, Ms. Y/n." Peter grinned. Y/n wrapped an arm around his shoulders turning him in the direction of where Tony was standing.

"Peter, Y/n is fine. Trust me, I'm one of the few people in this world who know what it's like to have Tony as a father figure and anyone who can handle that is okay in my book." Y/n laughed, pointing at the man in question.

As if sensing their shit talking, Tony turned around, catching sight of them. A suspicious glare was sent their way but Y/n could hardly notice it as another figure stepped into view, following Tony's gaze.

It was then that they were forced to look at one another head on. Not at a glance or a sneaky peek. They might as well have been standing in front of one another as they both froze.

If Y/n's heart decided to stop in that instant, she wouldn't blame it. The pure intensity of Steve's gaze was enough to make her shudder and she fought her every molecule to stare back. There was a warmth in his eyes, one that sent a flutter of giddiness through her.

A small smile crept onto his face and Y/n gasped, forcing herself to return the gesture and not just gawk at him. She was at a loss for words. It was the first time since Thanos that he had given her any sort of acknowledgement. While it hurt that their friendship had seemed to diminish while she'd been gone, she knew that rekindling it was a two way street. But now he was smiling at her. And she was smiling back.

She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until Peter stepped in front of her, his hands resting on her shoulders and his brows furrowed in concern. "Y/n? Are you okay?" His voice was soothing and it helped her recover her loss of breath from her moment with Steve.

"Huh? Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Just...uh, thinking." She mumbled, her eyes drifting back to Steve once more. His smile had faltered slightly, his face beginning to match Peter's concern but with a small curve of her lips, she assured him that his worry was senseless.

"About the game?"

"Hmm?" Y/n questioned, directing her attention to the boy once more. Peter eyed his glass carefully before taking a cautious sip.

"The game you play with Ms. Natasha and Ms. Wanda. You're playing, right? I saw you earlier with Thor." He explained. Y/n's face flushed, a little embarrassed that her moment with Thor had been witnessed by someone she knew. What if Steve saw? Would he be jealous?

Y/n nearly shook her head, convincing herself that she wasn't worth being jealous over. Especially to Steve.

"Oh, yeah. We are. That reminds me, you like Star Wars right?" She smirked, looking at him as she sipped his soda, the pink on his cheeks making her giggle.

"Well, yeah, I mean lots of people do. I'm not the only one-that would be weird. Unless you like it, not that you liking it would make it less weird. Not that you're not weird! Weird-"

"Peter!" Y/n laughed, putting her hand on his as she lightly brought the drink down. "Whew boy, maybe alcohol isn't your thing. Then again you've always been a rambler." She gently took the drink back from him, watching as a wave of relief washed over him.

"Have you eaten yet? I think there's hors d'oeuvres around here somewhere." She muttered, glancing around for any servers. Peter shook his head accepting his soda back before looking back up at her.

"No I'm okay, really." He told her, his heart warming at how much she seemed to care. It was nice and he enjoyed his relationship with Y/n. She allowed him to do things with her like travel, patrol, even hang out in the lab and she quickly became another idol of his.

"Are you thinking of watching Star Wars?" He asked her, referring to her previous question. She smiled, shaking her head.

"No, I've already seen it, I'm just thinking of a pick up line for the game. Tonight's rules are if you like my line I get a kiss and I fully intend on winning tonight." Peter nearly choked on air as his eyes widened yet again.

"A kiss? From me?" Y/n giggled, tapping her finger to her cheek.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Parker. A kiss on the cheek will do." She teased, making his face impossibly redder. He shook his head frantically trying to display as best he could that it wasn't his intention.

"I'm kidding. Now are you ready to hear my cheesy pick up line or will I just have to forfeit?" Peter's head didn't seem to stop shaking as he urged her to continue. "Alright here goes."

"Hey, sweetheart. Do you like Star Wars cause Yoda only one for me." With a wink she smiled, enjoying the scrunch of Peter's nose as he cringed at the line.

"Not doing it for ya?" She laughed. Peter scoffed, trying to hide the smile that threatened to show.

"I hate to admit it, but it was kinda funny." He sighed, ashamed to have enjoyed such a horrible line. Y/n's grin grew, pointing to her cheek once more.

"Then pay up. I've got two more kisses to collect." Peter smiled, leaning forward and pecking the space her finger had been. "Thank you. Now find someone to mess with. I won't be the only one reeking havoc tonight." She poked a stern finger into his chest. With some convincing he eventually promised to at least pull a prank on Sam and Bucky.

With that she began to make her way to Tony. A knot formed in her stomach as she paced in his direction yet it wasn't Tony who made her nervous. No, only Steve Rogers could make her feel so squeamish and turn her legs to jelly. And she was making her way straight toward him.

Y/n could barely hear the click of her heels and the chatter of those around her over the pep talk she was giving herself in her head. She refused to embarrass herself in front of him. This was going to be her second chance and she wouldn't allow her nerves to ruin it again.

"As I live and breathe! Do I stand before Iron Man and Captain America? I do hope this isn't a dream." Steve's soft chuckle seemed to go straight to her core and she feared her heart might beat right out of her chest.

"Don't encourage her, Cap." Tony grumbled, turning his gaze to Y/n. "Well, if it isn't my favorite niece."

"Your only niece." Y/n corrected, a short glare focused on him as he smirked.

"Let me guess you're here to win the game. Let's hear it so poor Cap here can get a turn. I don't think he's kissed a woman since the 40s." Tony leaned down, whispering the last part and making Y/n giggle.

"Hey!" Steve objected in vain. But what Y/n said next sent any duty to protect his pride out the window.

"That's a crying shame. The ladies must not know what they're missing." Y/n froze as the words left her mouth. What was she thinking? Her face burned and she hid behind her glass trying to muffle her embarrassed groan with her champagne.

"Jeez, get a room." Steve and Y/n both glared at Tony but he didn't seem to care, instead shrugging innocently.

"Alright, here's your line you impatient ass." Y/n scoffed, deciding to use a particularly bad line for the annoying man she dared call her father figure.

"Was that it?" He smirked.

"Shut up, I gotta turn around and approach this again or else it won't work." She hissed, earning a heartfelt laugh from Steve. Twice. She'd made him laugh twice. Her heart was practically singing at the thought. Maybe she'd actually get to kiss him?

With more determination than before, she turned around, taking a few steps away before dramatically turning back to them. Using theatrics she no doubt learned from Tony Stark himself, she put on a smile before holding her arms out in a grand gesture.

"Well I'm here, what's your next two wishes?"

"That was horrendous." Tony said almost immediately while Steve tried to contain his laughter behind them.

"Well, I couldn't very well waste my best lines on you now could I?" Y/n jested, taking the glass in his hand and pouring what remained of his drink into her now empty glass.

Tony's teasing expression fell as he painfully watched Y/n sip her glass. "I can't believe you're related to me." Y/n smiled back at him proudly.

"Only by marriage." She shrugged. Tony sighed, leaning down and pressing a fatherly kiss to her forehead just along her hairline.

"Thank god." He ignored Y/n's squinted stare, turning to Steve. "I think I'm going to go get another drink, since mine was so blatantly stolen." Tony glanced at Y/n who shamelessly smirked.

"But first I wanna hear your pick up line for Cap. Please be something patriotic. Maybe sing him the national anthem." He suggested, nudging Steve forward to where he stood before Y/n.

Not expecting Tony's push, Steve stumbled nearly crashing into Y/n but thankfully he caught himself, only having a redder face than before.

"I'm not sure the national anthem is a pick up line, Tony." Y/n replied, focusing on anything but Steve. At this distance she could smell the familiar cologne and feel the heat radiating from him. It reminded her all too much of the days before the snap. When he'd hold her whenever she was hurt or when he'd pick her up to launch her toward an enemy. Reminded her of the few hugs they'd managed to share.

Reminded her of their last before she dusted in his arms.

"I don't know. He's really horny for America, it might work." Tony refuted, earning a threatening gaze from both Steve and his niece.

"Fine, y'know what? Have privacy or whatever in the middle of this crowded party. See if I care." Tony said, a little butt hurt that he wouldn't be able to witness the awkward exchange first hand.

He was no idiot when it came to his niece's attraction to the super soldier. While at first he disapproved, even more so when it led to her being on the opposite side that day in Berlin, years had led to forgiveness. He couldn't really stay mad at her even if he tried. Only sorry he hadn't apologized before the snap.

"Thank you, Tony." Y/n spoke quietly, sending him a grateful look. Whatever was about to happen already made her nervous, she didn't think doing it with Tony there would be possible.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved a dismissive hand, beginning to walk away.

It wasn't until he had Morgan that he realized he was already a father. Y/n had been his first and no matter his guilt, she would always forgive him. Always need him.

"Don't get carried away." He threatened suddenly, pointing to his eyes before twisting his hand back to them with a menacing squint.

Y/n rolled her eyes, looking back to Steve as Tony finally left.

"He's protective." Y/n explained, trying to be annoyed. It was actually kinda touching the way he cared despite his usual selfish smartass exterior.

"For good reason." Steve agreed, making Y/n's head tilt confused.

"You think I can't take care of myself?" She questioned defensively, ready to prove her worth no matter who he was.

"No, of course you can. Just-..." He trailed off, a sorrowful expression taking hold of his features against his will. "We've both failed you before. Numerous times." Steve confessed, his eyes falling downcast as Y/n realized what he'd meant.

She’d never truly thought about how her absence might have affected him. Before the snap he never gave any hint that he wanted to be more than a friend to her. But now she studied that look in his eye, that one she hadn’t recognized before. Heartbreak.

"Steve, you didn't fail me." She insisted. Her hand had come to his own, grasping lightly at his loose fingers and ignoring the buzz in her skin and the rapid pace of her heart.

"No, I did. I turned you against your family. I got you arrested. I dragged you back into the fight and...you got snapped away." His voice broke at the end, years of depression and misery washing over him all over again.

"It wasn't your fault. We all lost that day." Y/n argued but her words didn't seem to stick.

"I'll never forgive myself." Steve's words were barely above a whisper, each syllable falling further into him unable to escape.

The sight alone made her heart ache but it was the way he'd spoken that truly shook her. They were the words of a broken man, a man that had lost it all. Had she done that to him? Did he care about her like that? Maybe he was scared too.

“Well, it's a good thing I already did.” Y/n smiled hoping to bring back the smile that she'd been able to give him moments before. Her hand stayed planted to his own more terrified to release it than she was to keep holding it. Would she ever work up the courage to do it again?

Steve looked back up at her, a tender glimmer in his eye as he moved his hand to hold her own. “I missed you.”

The statement alone wasn't nearly enough to convey how much he'd longed for her in those five years, left without any hope of ever getting her back. Didn’t show her the sleepless nights or the endless tears. Didn’t show her first few years he spent, alone and secluded. Didn’t show her how many times he prayed to any god that would listen for them to bring her back.

But her eyes seemed to tell him that she understood. Y/n knew exactly how he felt even if she'd been relieved of it for five years. She remembered when she was arrested, screaming at the guards that they'd never find Steve. Remembered the sobs that racked through her when he came to free her, relieved he’d made it out of the war safely. Remembered their time on the run, unable to tell him how she felt. Remembered volunteering to stay with Bucky when Steve's worry became too much. Remembered him coming back and bring a war with him. Remembered him catching her before she dusted, too fast for her to tell him her greatest truth.

She loved him.

“I missed you too.” She said softly, her face burning under his gentle gaze. They’d become so unbearably close at that point, making her breath ragged and her heart race.

Clearing her throat, she looked away, trying not to reveal how flustered he made her. “So do you wanna hear my pick up line or not?” She once again changed the subject, making Steve smile at her lovingly.

“Definitely.” He replied.

“Alright. On a scale of 1 to America, how free are you tonight?” She gave him the first one that came to find, silently groaning when she realized she'd done exactly what Tony suggested. Curse their horribly similar minds.

"That's terrible." Steve chuckled, staring at her with adoration unlike he'd ever done before. She was absolutely perfect in his eyes and he refused to waste anymore time being scared.

"You didn't like that? I have more." Y/n rambled, oblivious toward Steve's affectionate gaze. "Can I tie your shoes? I don't want you falling for anyone else."

Steve laughed, shaking his head as he stepping forward and shifting his hand to her waist as he pulled her closer.

The action on flustered her further, dragging another pick up line out of her. "Or I like your last name, can we share it?"

Steve's smile grew, his heart swelling with each word. He loved listening to her lines even if they were cheesy. But he was determined now and he wouldn't let either of their nerves stop them anymore.

"I lost my number, can I have-"

Suddenly he leaned forward, cutting her sentence short as his lips latched onto her own.

The kiss was so tender she practically melted in his arms, her hand coming to his chest while the other shifted to behind his neck, her fingers filtering through the lower part of his hair. His grip around her waist tightened as his heart pounded under her palms, the aftermath of anticipation rushing through his chest.

It was effortless the way they molded together and it left him breathless. He couldn't believe he'd never just kissed her before and after believing all these years he'd never get the chance to, he was so grateful to have her now.

"I've waited too long for that. I think I'm gonna need interest." Y/n gasped as they pulled away her eyes half lidded as she tried to process what had happened.

"Was that another pick up line?" Steve's brows furrowed, his lips a beautiful shade of darker pink.

Y/n smiled up at him, pulling him close once more. "Shut up."

•••

"Who's gonna tell her she didn't win?" Wanda questioned suddenly, glancing over at Nat.

Sam raised his hands in surrender, passing off the duty as soon as possible to avoid any type of rage the woman might've wreaked on him.

"I don't think she'll really care at this point." Nat spoke, pointing a finger toward the couple across the room.

They didn't seem to care that they were in a room full of people, instead remaining engrossed in each other as they stared at each other lovingly. It was touching really but what Nat assumed to be their confessions had lost Y/n the game.

"Wait does this mean the games with stop?" Sam questioned suddenly.

"No, it'll just make them more interesting." Nat smirked.

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geekgirles · 3 years

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Your Heart

Chapter 4 -- Stalemate Word Count: 8284

READ ON AO3

Waking up to the sound of her parents’ latest invention going awry was something she was sure she was never going to get used to. Never mind that she’d have an entire life to get accustomed to it or her newfound respect for what her family did for a living.

As disciplined as Jasmine Fenton was, being awakened by an explosion was never going to be anything but annoying.

Sighing resignedly, Jazz yanked her covers aside and got up, ready to start a new day. After showering and getting dressed with a long-sleeved, white dress shirt, a black ribbon tied tightly around its collar; a matching black, a-line skirt over thin grey tights; a teal blazer over her shirt, and brown ankle boots (which went well with her brown leather shoulder bag); she first made her way down the stairs to her parents’ lab.

Absent-mindedly combing her pixie cut with her fingersーa decision she made after 18 years of rushed haircuts due to having been covered in some sort of unknown ectoplasmic goo after an invention explodedー, Jazz cut straight to the chase. “Let me guess, your latest invention just ‘malfunctioned’”, she air-quoted.

As she expected, Jack and Maddie were hunched over a metallic device that had definitely seen better days, if the smoke coming off of it was any indication...What she wasn’t expecting though, although she should have, was her dad’s answer. “Actually, that was just the Fenton Toaster. We were about to start the day with a healthy, ghost-kicking breakfast, when she failed on us.” Had she been sixteen again or literally any other person in the world, Jazz might’ve actually been taken aback by the fact that her dad was tearing up over a toaster. Then again, she was Jazz Fenton and this sort of thing from her dad was as common as him yelling obscenities about ghosts. “Oh, dear friend. We hardly knew ye!”

Rolling her eyes at his dad’s antics while her mum patted his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, Jazz muttered, “Dad, that toaster’s almost as old as Danny…” Who, by the way, was going to be ecstatic to learn the dreaded toast-drying machine from Hell had finally been vanquished.

Speaking of her little brother, “Where’s Danny, anyway?”

Again, to any other family in the USA but the Fentons, that question would have seemed stupid. Danny was a college student who lived at his university’s dorms with his best friend, so the chances of him being around his childhood home during the school year were pretty slim. And, again, they were the Fentons, and her little brother had been going back and forth from his dorm, to Fenton Works, to the Ghost Zone (not like their parents knew, or even needed to know, about that one…) since he first got into APU.

Maddie left her weeping husband’s side to pick a wrench up and start working on the toaster again ーpoor Danny; it seemed the evil, toast-drying machine from Hell was harder to get rid of than Vlad. “Sorry, sweetie. You missed him while you were doing your research. Your brother was here yesterday; he said he came Sunday night because he couldn’t find his dorms’ keys. But he’s back at college now.”

She suddenly stopped tinkering with the busted toaster’s inner workings, taking off her goggles from her face, a pensive expression plastered on her face. “Hm...I know Danny’s always been a little distracted, but he keeps losing his keys. At this rate he’s going to end up sleeping on the street just because he can’t get inside his own home!”

Recovering from his temporary loss of composure over the Fenton Toaster ー“I love you, guys, but it’s a miracle this family hasn’t been studied by professional psychiatrics already. Not like I didn’t give it my best shot…”, Jazz thought to herselfー, Jack was soon standing right beside his wife, towering over the pile of scrap metal with a matching pensive expression of his own.

That couldn’t be good.

“Now that you mention it, sweetcakes,” he said, “you’re right. Danny’s always losing stuff!”

“Right?” Maddie insisted. “Don’t you remember, back in his first year of high school, when his English teacher, Mr. Lancer, called you over because Danny’s pants kept falling several times just that week?”

“Uh...the memory’s a bit blurry, Hon, but I know what you mean.” In truth, Jack didn’t remember any of that. All he knew was that he suddenly found himself chaperoning a homecoming dance. If only there was a way to get your memories back like those keychains that you attached to your clothes… And then it hit him. “I know, Maddie! Why don’t we make one of those keychains that you attach to your clothes so you won’t lose them for Danny?”

His wife beamed at that. For all his scatterbrained-ness, Jack truly was a talented inventor with a creative mind. Just a fuzzy head. “Oh, that sounds marvelous, honey! I’m sure Danny will love that!” She exclaimed before quickly pecking him on the lips.

Unbeknownst to her parents, Jazz grimaced in worry at the idea. Back when she was sixteen, or any other day, really; she’d have been overjoyed at the idea of her ghost-hunting parents creating something that was absolutely non-ghost-related, but since said idea would make it more difficult for Danny to keep his secret from them...She was just glad she was in town to look over him. Trying to appear supportive rather than dismayed, Jazz chirped, “Yeah, great idea, Dad...What are you going to call it? The Fenton Keychain?”

“‘The Fenton Keychain?’” Jack parroted before scoffing. “Of course not, Jazzy-pants! I was thinking something more along the lines of, ‘The Fenton Fermoir’!” He announced, striking a dramatic pose.

The blue-eyed young woman started at that, taken aback. “Wait, ‘fermoir’? Isn’t that French?”

“Yes, it’s an adjective that means ‘that which closes.’”

Gaping at her dad, Jazz blinked. And blinked again. And blinked a third time for good luck. “...you know French?”

This time, it was her mother who answered her, laughing her question off. “Oh, yes. There’s more to us than just ghost-hunting, you know?” Then she and her husband laughed together at her own joke.

“Could’ve fooled me…” Jazz mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Um...oh, right. So Danny’s not here today, huh?” Her parents shook their heads. “That’s a shame, I wanted to ask him how things were going with...um...with, you know, school and all that. Oh, well! I’m sure he’ll tell me some other time.”

Jack and Maddie exchanged a glance. Ever since Danny started going to high school, their kids often acted weird. At first, they blamed it on adolescence, making them want to make an identity for themselves outside of their parents’ influence but not knowing exactly who they truly were, either. But the fact that their eldest child was 23, their youngest 21, and they still acted like that sometimes was a bit concerning.

The wrench in her hand long forgotten, Maddie made her way to her daughter’s side. She draped an arm around her shoulders, not noticing that said arm was the one holding the aforementioned wrench and that she was unconsciously pointing at Jazz’s face with it. “Honey, is there something about Danny we should know about?”

Jazz panicked.

Yes.

Yes, there were so many things about Danny they should know about.

They should know their kid had gone through a terrible accident that changed his life forever at the tender age of fourteen. They should know he got ghost powers he spent agonising months trying to get control over. They should know he only ever wanted to protect innocents from ghosts and yet, he was labeled as a menace by the very same people he was trying to look after. They should know he’d not only been carrying the burden of being Amity Park’s unofficial protector since he was fourteen, but also became the king of an entire dimension and could count the people he could rely on with his hands. They should know he went through his very first serious heartbreak because the girl he liked hated his ghost half more than she liked him. They should know their college best friend was a fruitloop who wanted to kill Dad, take Mum from him, and either kill or adopt Danny; because, really, it all depended on the side of the bed Vlad woke up on.

They should know their only son was risking his life even more now because he’d made a deal with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park who, judging by what Danny had told her, was the embodiment of a death sentence.

And he’d been carrying all those burdens and responsibilities, facing constant danger, making decisions not even full-fledged adults would find easy to make, and had been aimed at with ecto-blasters by his own parents since he was fourteen. Being Danny Phantom had stolen some of the best years of his life away from Danny Fenton.

And they had no idea of any of that.

But how could they, when Danny refused to tell them the truth?

Every time Danny faced a bigger threat than dealing with ghosts of the same caliber as the Box Ghost, Jazz tried convincing him to come clean to their parents. Because, what if they never saw him again after that battle? What would she tell them, then?

But Danny would not budge. And, Jazz remembered, she couldn’t blame him. With the entire town, barring a dedicated fan club, and a good chunk of the Ghost Zone against him, how could he risk losing one of the very few places he could call home? Just like she told him when he asked her why she never said anything about his secret, it was his secret. Only he could talk about it with Mum and Dad.

“Jazz, honey? Is everything alright?”

Her mother’s voice broke her out of her stupor. She must’ve spaced out for a while, for her parents were looking at her worriedly. Flushing sheepishly, she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. And don’t worry about Danny either. He just…” What was that excuse he told her he’d use if anyone started asking questions again? Oh, right. “He’s just busy working on a paper to help me with my own thesis, that’s all.”

Okay. So not only was it a lie, but it wasn’t exactly what Danny told her to say, either. Her little brother decided to respond saying he was suddenly very interested in the occult because he was writing a paper on a seminar he’d signed himself up for, but since she went back to Amity Park to study the witches there, it was still a good excuse.

Said excuse seemed to calm her parents down, before they fully registered her words and they seemed worried again. But, she knew, this time they were worried for her.

“Uh, Princess? Are you sure you want to focus that thesis of yours on...witches?” Jack asked warily, looking up from the remainers of the Fenton Toaster.

The redhead rolled her eyes in annoyance; there they went again. “Your father’s right, sweetie. While not necessarily a bad topic...erm...it’s not exactly the easiest one to research.” Her mother tried to discourage her gently. “For starters, most of the records we have are nothing but speculations and hearsay… I mean, the Salem witch trials were mostly based on unfounded accusations!”

How two of the world leading experts in ectology, who defended the existence of ghosts long before their theories were proven correct, could be so convinced there was no such thing as witches was beyond her. Arbitrary scepticism, much?

Jazz had to admit, she understood her family’s surprise when she opted to focus her thesis for her Cryptology class on the legendary women. A psychology undergraduate, a woman convinced of the infallible nature of the scientific method since birth, and an aspiring psychologist since she was sixteen, it was understandable that her decision to minor in Cryptology would come as a surprise to...well, everyone.

But protecting your half-ghost little brother from the shadows for the last seven years had a way of making you question everything you once thought you knew.

After all, if such a thing as ghosts weren’t only real but had an entire dimension for themselves, then who was to say such a thing as magic-wielding women couldn’t exist?

The moment Danny told her and Tucker he planned on asking them for help at the beginning of Fall only cemented her decision. It was a real pity Danny refused to disclose the supposed location of the Amity Park clan for her safety.

“Mum, Dad, I’ve told you already. It’s precisely because of all those myths that I want to study them. For all we know, all those potions that are always mentioned in folklore could just be really advanced medicine. Are we really going to turn our backs on the scientific community like that?”

“And that’s a great idea sweetie! But…” Maddie tried reasoning with her, but nothing came to mind. Awkwardly, she turned to her husband and whispered harshly, “Help me out here, will you?”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. “What your mother’s trying to say, Jazz, is that, if there was evidence on the existence of witches, we’d already know. Don’t forget, your ancestor, John Fentonightingale, was a celebrated witch hunter during the time of the Salem trials. He was an admired and respected member of his village, but the only thing he ever did was send innocent people to be burned alive.

“When he eventually realised what he’d done, he spent the rest of his life lamenting his shortsightedness; rejecting the fame and glory his witch-hunting days had brought him. And even if he ultimately turned to ghost-huntingー”

“Goodbye, fame and respect.” Jazz mumbled.

“ーthe hole in his heart caused by his actions would never be filled again.” Jack finished his tale with a morose expression, hoping Jazz would understand what he was trying to say.

She didn’t. “Okay, that was a very moving story with a valuable lesson on the dangers of letting fear and paranoia overtake us. But what does it have to do with me?”

Still standing by her daughter’s side, Maddie tried comfortingly rubbing her arms with the hand that wasn’t holding the wrench. “We’re just trying to warn you not to jump to conclusions, because you might regret it.”

Okay, that was it. Her parents were in no position to warn her against jumping to conclusions; they lost that right the day she finally understood they’d been unknowingly talking about ripping their own son apart ‘molecule by molecule’ ーright in front of him. Jerking away from her mother’s touch, she put her hands on her hips as she sent them her most meaningful look.

“For the last time! I’m not going to try and, I don’t know, rally up the entire town against the witches! I just want to study them. You know, learn about their culture, about the origins of their abilities, about the differences between fact and fiction...” she shot them a pointed look as she stressed that last part. “I just want to understand them!”

“But you don’t even know if they exist!” Jack protested as she made it to the stairs.

Hearing her dad’s comment, she turned to face them once more. Oh, she knew they existed alright, that much Danny had been able to clue her in. What she didn’t know was where to find them. But she couldn’t tell them that. “Well, that certainly didn’t stop you from building a ghost portal to another dimension you weren’t even sure existed! And it sure as Heck won’t stop me!”

That last comment should be enough to get her parents off her back for at least a couple of days. But the conversation had put her in a bad mood, something that didn’t happen since she learned to appreciate her parents’ ghost-hunting abilities, or, when it was Danny who was being pursued by them, their lack thereof. Stomping out of the house and slamming the door closed behind her, Jazz angrily made her way to the usual starting point of her quest.

The Amity Park Public Library.

The large granite building was supposed to be completely white, but the decades since it was built had washed out the stones, making them look grey-ish instead. The several steps leading up to the entrance were flanked by two lead lion statues resting atop a block of stone each. The front of the building, on the other hand, was both decorated and supported by numerous columns, with two of them at either side of the wooden door.

Despite the impressive sight, what truly mattered lay behind its doors. Walking inside, Jazz let herself be washed over by the smell of ink and paper so characteristic of the library. Wherever she looked, hundreds of books stood proudly on their shelves, some of them so high up that the only way to reach them was with the help of stairs.

Scattered around the library were several tables and plastic chairs where the visitors could sit to read their latest acquisition or work on the projects that brought them to the library in the first place.

Breathing the scent in, Jazz walked over to the little counter located right at the entrance of the library, where the librarian would usually be working on her computer. Whenever she wasn’t out and about organising books, that is.

Jazz waved at her with a smile. After coming to the library to study for years, she was basically a regular by now. “Good morning, Wilhelmina!” Wincing at her unintentional high-pitched tone, she lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “How’s everything around here?”

Looking up from her computer, the pudgy woman smiled knowingly at Jazz before willing her chair to get closer to her. “Good morning, Jasmine. It’s been so long since I last saw you; when was it again, two days ago?” Wilhelmina joked as she leaned in closer to the redhead, intertwining her fingers as her elbows rested on her desk.

Jazz flushed slightly at the harmless jab. “What can I say? You won’t get rid of me so easily!”

“Don’t I know it…” There was something odd about the way the librarian said those words, but the redhead decided to let it go. It was probably nothing, either way.

“I wanted to ask you if you could recommend a book onー?”

“On witches?” The auburn-haired lady finished for her. Seeing the young woman’s embarrassed hint of red on her cheeks, she chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so surprised, my dear. You’ve been asking for the same thing for almost a month now! It’s just nice seeing someone retain some sort of interest for this old place and its books. Nowadays, most people just come here to surf the net for free.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me for a while, then! So, the books?”

Leaning back on her chair, Wilhelmina pointed to a faraway aisle. “Try the History section. I’m sure there’ll be a journal or something to help you with your paper.”

Jazz flashed her a charming grin, “Thanks, Wilhelmina. You’re the best!” As she turned her back on the librarian, Jazz failed to notice the dark grin that made its way to her face.

Once Jazz was out of earshot, Wilhelmina said, “Oh, you have no idea,” the twisted expression never leaving her face.

As she walked around the library’s endless halls, Jazz couldn’t help but be grateful for having Wilhelmina as the librarian. Any other person would have looked at her like she was crazy or a Satanist murderer in the making for researching the occult so much, but never Wilhelmina. The woman just smiled at her and tried helping her to the best of her abilities. If Jazz had been looking for information entirely on her own, she’d have stuck to a particular section of the library, but Wilhelmina was always recommending a broader search. And, Jazz couldn’t help but think, it was a smart choice. One never knew what they could find or learn if they listened to different experiences other than their own.

Standing in front of the shelf where the history books were, the aqua-eyed woman began scanning for something that might help her clear up the fog surrounding the group of witches Danny might be facing from now on. If she could just find out where their hideout was supposed to be… Not only would she be able to study them, but she might even convince them to ally themselves with her brother for good!

Ever since she was a teenager and found out about her brother’s secret, Jazz was determined to focus her thesis on the effects such circumstances could have on him. But as time went by, she came to understand that would be impossible. Writing a thesis on Danny’s very unique circumstances would be akin to exposing him, and she couldn’t do that to him.

Because he trusted her.

Danny’s number of enemies increased tenfold by the day, while his allies followed a much more stagnant rhythm. Goodness, he couldn’t even get his girlfriend to give up ghost hunting for him! She and Tucker were the only two people in all of Amity Park he could rely on.

And there was no way she’d ever betray that trust.

Which, sure, was a very meaningful proof of the love and bond between them, but still left Jazz without a topic for her thesis. So when Danny revealed his discoveries on the existence of witches, of all things, she was ecstatic.

The possibility of a magical species living in Amity Park was perfect on many levels. On the one hand, it would expand their knowledge of the paranormal, with the added bonus of finding potential alternatives for everyday problems. And on the other, it gave her the perfect excuse to stay close to Danny and make sure he was safe. With her in town, he wouldn’t have to make up excuses as to why he slept in Fenton Works when he already had a perfectly nice place to stay at APU. All he had to do was phase through her room to get to his.

And, most importantly, that way he had somebody else he could talk to about his double life. He was going to need it if he’d indeed managed to establish a truce between the spellbinding women and ghosts. From what he’d told them, those sorceresses were vile.

As she walked over a nearby table carrying a pile of books with both hands, Jazz couldn’t help but wonder how her little brother would handle the situation.

.............

Danny was not handling the situation well.

Although, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. Lady Arcana’s own unwillingness to cooperate was a key factor in their stalemate.

Even if they addressed each other formally and obvious jabs directed at their respective species were, thankfully, non-existent, the coldness between them that reigned during their first face-to-face interaction was now stronger than ever.

Just like the last time, he’d sent Skulker to escort the queen and her entourageーwhich still consisted of the same two witches; talk about confidence…ー through the Ghost Zone up until they arrived at his lair’s throne room. They still pretended they were both honoured to be in each other’s presence even though Danny was sure the Witch Queen wished she could just spit at him as much as he did.

And knowing Desiree, if she were near to grant her wish, a cascade of spit would rain down on him.

This time, however, Danny had ventured deeper inside his lair, with the witches close behind him. Figuring discussing over inter-dimensional safety in the middle of his throne room would be unwise, since one never knew who could be watching, he led his guests to the Council Room; where the Observants, Clockwork, and heーand occasionally Frostbite or any other ghost with a modicum of authorityーgathered to discuss political affairs regarding the Infinite Realms.

Admittedly, he wanted to slap himself for not thinking about it sooner.

Another thing that was different and he had failed to point out earlier was that, technically, the witches weren’t alone. No, there was nobody else besides the queen and her two...guards? ーcould he even call them guards?ー but they weren’t alone per se, either.

The bespectacled, strawberry blonde one had a pet owl perched on her shoulder. The bird, Danny had to admit, was beautiful. Its plumage was predominantly white and cream. The white feathers were more noticeable in its belly and heart-shaped face, with most of its body and the top of its head looking rather creamy. The owl’s black orbs seemed not only capable of seeing in the dark, but also deep inside your soul.

In other words, the girl’s pet was pretty, but creepy. And he had a feeling that would be a stable of these women.

The Asian teenager seemed to prefer reptiles, and, yes, he based his hypothesis entirely on the fact that the girl had a bearded dragon around her neck as if she was wearing a scarf. Danny couldn’t tell what was creepier; the lizard’s naturally spiky, scale-covered body and its little tongue licking its eyeball, or the way the witch scratched her pet’s chin and cooed at it when she thought nobody was paying attention to her.

“Well, it could be worse. She could buy herself a cat and name it after a married woman who will never love her back.” Danny had to physically restrain himself from shuddering at the thought.

But the weirdest thing, of course, had to be Lady Arcana’s own companion. Which, again, he was sure was going to be a stable between them. At first he didn't even see her carrying anything, her form obscured by her cloak, but the moment they entered the Council Room ーalone; Lady Arcana had stationed her witches to guard the doors, just as he did the same with two of Walker’s goonsーand she made herself comfortable (or as comfortable as she’d ever be in enemy territory), he spotted it.

Had she really brought a potted plant with her all the way from the portal to his lair? And, now that he took a closer look, was that a carnivorous plant?

Scratch whatever he said about the teenager and her lizard. The way the plant nuzzled her face or wrapped itself around her forearm as she gently stroked its stem was ten times creepier. Although, a part of him couldn’t help but think she and Undergrowth would get along swimmingly.

Two plant-loving psychos bonding with each other. Talk about a meet cute.

But never mind their questionable taste for pets. They’d been discussing for over an hour and they were still at the starting point. Time was money and this woman was going to make him go bankrupt if they kept going like this.

“Your Majesty, I understand the situation is quite...extraordinary, but I’m afraid we are still in need of a solution.” He tried for the umpteenth time that hour.

The woman before him just sniffed in displeasure. It was a good thing they were separated by a rather large, rectangular table, otherwise, he might have leaned forward and wrung her little neck out of sheer exasperation. “I am perfectly aware of the situation, King Phantom. But, as I have informed you already, there is not much I can do if I do not know the cause of the portals opening.”

But that was precisely why he needed her help! Getting frustrated, Danny let out through gritted teeth, “Which I believe is precisely the reason why I need you here in the first place, my Lady. You are supposed to be able to discover the reason behind it.”

“Well, supposedly, these portals are a natural occurrence of the Ghost Zone. How is it possible that you do not know how to take care of the problem on your own?” She countered, matter-of-factly, and Danny would have given about anything to get her to shut up and do something useful instead.

“Supposedly,” he echoed, “your people have the natural ability to surpass the laws that separate the Infinite Realms and Earth from each other, and hence, youーshouldーknowーhowーtoーcounterーit!” His voice raising in volume as he spoke, he made sure to punctuate that last part for emphasis.

Narrowing her violet eyes at him in disdainーhow could he have ever thought they were beautiful?!ー, Lady Arcana spat. “Supposedly, that bond was tattered after your kind’s betrayal.”

If it weren’t for the audacity of her statement, he would’ve recoiled at the gravity and resentment etched into her words. Narrowing his own eyes at her, he leaned forward. “Trust me, your Majesty, you would be wise to keep your mouth shut; you are in no position to talk about betrayals.”

As her scowl deepened, teeth borne at him in anger, a low growl could be heard emanating from her throat. But Danny was not going to be intimidated that easily. Returning the intensity of her gaze, the two kept eye contact, initiating a staring contest born from frustration and distrust.

Eventually, the Witch Queen averted her eyes, crossing her eyes in a huff as she leaned back on her chair. Her little plant reacted to her turmoil, for it hopped over to her ーwait, it hopped?!ーto get her attention. Noticing her weird-ass pet near her, the witch began to absent-mindedly caress its little, purple...head?

He was never eating a salad again in his life; he ought to let Tucker know he’d decided to join him in his carnivorous ways.

Leaning back against his own chair, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. They’d been at it for more than an hour and, rather than discuss a possible solution, all they’d done was argue. Sighing through his nose, he called out to her, an idea forming in his mind, “Hey.”

Taken aback by his sudden drop of formality, Sam looked over at him with a guarded expression. What was he up to? Rather than answering, she raised an interested eyebrow as a sign to go on.

Danny took that raised eyebrow and her silence as permission to continue. “How about we drop the honorifics and formality for a while, huh? I don’t know about you, but I’m a rather laid-back person and having to address someone as if I was meeting the Queen of England tends to stress me out. And that by extension makes me much more prone to get defensive.”

Sam bit back her reply that she was, in fact, as much of a queen as the Queen of England, and that he should treat her as such.

“And let’s be real; getting defensive with each other is going to get us nowhere, don’t you agree? Besides, I’m already stressed out as it is due to a matter regarding a black hole forming, so I bet I’m not the most agreeable guy to be around right now.”

“No, you aren’t”, Sam was actually surprised Phantom shared her beliefs about formality and social distance. But that didn’t mean she was going to lower her guard around him. And his last words took her completely by surprise. “...did you just say ‘black hole’?”

“That’s not something you should concern yourself with.” He dismissed the question immediately.

Squinting her lavender eyes at him, her suspicions of any ulterior motives never quite going away, Sam gave in. “What are you getting at?”

At least she was listening to him. He was willing to count that as progress. Danny raised his palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, we don’t know for how long we’re gonna have to work together. So how about we’re at least casual with each other? Because, I don’t know about you, but all this higher register of speech is giving me a headache.”

As if to prove his point, Danny rose up in the air until he was comfortably floating about three feet high. As he leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head and one leg over the other, nothing would’ve wiped the smug look on his face as he looked down on the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park, her own jaw hanging low in awe.

Noticing the smugness radiating off of him in waves, the raven-haired girl forced her jaw shut. No way in Hell was she going to give him the satisfaction of amazing her. Even if she wasn’t going to say it aloud, Sam concurred with his point. Straightening her back, head held up high, she made sure to bruise his ego the same way he almost bruised hers. “Fine. Let’s drop the honorifics, I was tired of pretending I have any respect for you, anyway.”

Danny frowned at that. “Hey!”

“What? Do you seriously expect me to believe I’m not in immediate danger of being attacked by a ghost just for the mere fact of invading their turf? That you and your people actually respect mine?” Her voice was laced with cynicism as she scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

As much as Danny would’ve loved to contradict her, he knew he couldn’t. After all, he hadn’t just sent Skulker to escort them in fear they might get lost, the possibility of them being ambushed by vengeful ghosts was very real.

The raven-haired girl smiled triumphantly, knowing she had him right where she wanted him. “If it’s any consolation, if any of you so much as tried stepping foot, or ghostly tail, or whatever, into our territory, not a single one of us would hesitate to exorcise the Hell outta you.” Motioning to the door with her head, she added. “Susan in particular would have a blast.”

“Susan?”

“The teenager with the bearded dragon; Count Scalynton”

“‘Count Scalynton’?” Danny echoed in disbelief, before having to stifle a laugh with his gloved hand. Seeing the Witch Queen’s unamused stare, however, he sobered up. “And...uh...what about...the owl?”

“That’s Spooky.” Lady Arcana replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“And your little friend?” He asked hesitantly, pointing at the potted plant comfortably perched on its owner’s lap, but making sure his finger didn’t get too close; in fear of getting it bitten off.

“Oh, this little guy?” Sam looked down at DeMilo with a fond smile. “His name’s DeMilo.”

“...are you serious?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No! No, no. Of course not! DeMilo is...uh, a great name.” He quickly assured her, sheepishly. The last thing he needed was to invoke her wrath, again. Clearing his throat, Danny decided it’d be best to change topics. “So...No honorifics?”

“No honorifics.” Lady Arcana nodded from her chair.

“Right. So, instead of ‘your Majesty’, ‘my Lord’, or ‘King Phantom’, you can just call me ‘Phantom’ and Iー”

“You can just call me ‘Lady Arcana.’” The Witch Queen cut him off with a tone that left no room for discussion.

The white-haired young man slouched slightly at that. Just when he thought they were making progress, she closed herself off completely all over again. But he couldn’t afford displeasing her further, so he’d have to play by her rules...For now. “Right. Got it. So...about those portals?”

As he asked that, Phantom leaned forward to her, changing his position mid-air so his torso was facing now upside down but his head remained straight. As the Ghost King lowered his body so his forearms were atop the wooden table, an intrigued gaze directed at her, Sam deposited DeMilo on the table, her own hands resting on it. Locking eyes, they had each other’s undivided attention.

Understanding they were back to business, Sam sighed tiredly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I need to know the cause behind the portals’ strange behaviour. If this is something that can be solved through magic, then it is imperative that we know what’s causing it to figure out the best course of action to take. The wrong spell could lead to disastrous consequences.”

“Like?” Phantom raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Like sending the world to another dimension instead of closing a portal between dimensions.”

“I guess that makes sense. So how do we figure out the cause?”

“I can start by looking through this.” Sam offered as she, seemingly, got a book out of nowhere, Phantom’s eyes widening at the sight. The reddish-brown leathered book was the same one she used to open the portals to the Ghost Zone, which made it their safest bet for finding a solution. After all, if the book guarded almost forgotten knowledge on how to open inter-dimensional drifts, then it should have the answers to more mysteries, right?

...............

Outside the Council Room, on each side of the door, Stephanie and Susan were patiently waiting for their queen. Well, “patiently waiting” might have been an exaggeration. Stephanie was stiff as a board, while Susan looked like a furious guard dog, the murder in her eyes only cemented the picture.

Both witches’ emotional state could only be attributed to one thing.

Ghosts.

Or, to be more precise, the two police-dressed, green spirits they were forced to stand guard alongside because the Ghost King wasn’t about to be caught dead (pun not-intended) with three witches and no back-up.

As much as she hated it, Susan had to give the spook credit: he wasn’t nearly as stupid as she thought.

The teenager kept stroking the length of Count Scalynton’s body, currently sprawled alongside her arm, as she pondered different ways to escape the Ghost King’s lair and his ectoplasmic, door-floating, bloodcurdling realm in case things went awry.

Beside her, Stephanie was lovingly scratching Spooky’s beak in an attempt to calm herself down. Looking over at the ghost-guard assigned to her, she squeaked and promptly looked away when the spectre, having felt her gaze on him, landed his blood-red, pupiless eyes on her. Gulping loudly, she whispered to Susan. “Do you think her Majesty will be frequently meeting Phantom from now on?”

Susan whispered back with a sneer. “I hope not! Miss Wilhelmina was right when she warned me against these putrid, soulless drones. We can’t lower our guards, especially not now that the queen needs us.”

Discreetly pointing with her head, the Asian girl guided her partner’s gaze to her hips. Lifting her red hoodie almost unnoticeably, the strawberry blonde’s eyes widened at the sight; two crossed, leather bandoliers were filled to the brims with an assemblage of jars containing colourful liquids. Stephanie’s jaw almost fell open in shock; the 17-year-old girl was armed to the teeth with potions!

Realising they weren’t alone and the dangers in their secret stash being found out, Stephanie tried to appear nonchalant. Pretending to be talking in general, she added. “I just hope her Majesty is safe.”

Susan gave her a wry smile. “Oh, trust me. Her Majesty will be fine even without our help.”

...............

As she skimmed the pages of the spellbook in search of more information on the portals, Sam kept looking over at Phantom, praying he hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

As satisfying as it’d been seeing his bewildered face when she suddenly pulled the book off seemingly out of nowhere, the truth was she’d been carrying it with her under her skirt. But what she worried about was not him finding out about the book, but the other items her dress hid from plain sight.

Strapped around her thigh was a black holster filled with potions. Unlike the arsenal Sam knew Susan had brought with her, which consisted of several offensive and highly corrosive concoctions, the queen’s own collection consisted mostly of Blinding Bombs. As the name indicated, it was a type of potion whose main purpose was to distract the opponent long enough to retreat or come up with a plan. If things went south, all Sam had to do was smash the jar against the ground and cover her eyes, for a small explosion of light would ensue and temporarily blind the spirits, giving her and her girls enough time to escape.

As she leafed through the spellbook’s pages, she suddenly shivered, noticing a cold presence by her side sending shivers down her spine. What was even odder was the sudden smell of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Dumbfounded, she turned her face to the side and growled at the sight. Snapping the book closed and bringing it close to her chest, she snarled at Phantom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Taken aback by her sudden movements, Danny blinked. “Um, trying to help you?”

He had to be kidding her. “Come again?”

“I...uh...I just thought I could help you look for answers.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So I was trying to see if I could find anything useful in that book of yours.”

Oh, he definitely had to be kidding her. “No, thank you.” She turned him down, only thanking him out of politeness. She turned back to the book. “You’ll only drag us down, anyway.”

Danny was starting to get really frustrated with that all-knowing, condescending attitude of hers. Even his sister wasn’t as annoying despite her know-it-all tendencies. Hell, Skulker was easier to work with! Standing up in mid-air, using his leverage to stare her downーliterallyーhe folded his arms in front of his chest. “And how, pray tell, am I going to drag us down?”

He was surprised by the witch’s next action. Huffing loudly, she got up from her chair and shoved the book in his face quicker than he could blink. At first he had trouble registering what just happened (mostly because he was levitating a good three feet above her and she was still safely on the ground) until he took notice of the sparkly, purple mist surrounding theーfloatingーspellbook. He blinked in awe; so that’s how her magic looked like. Once the initial surprise had worn off, however, Danny had to admit, he was a little disappointed; he’d expected more than a floating book.

Looking over the tome, he saw Lady Arcana staring intently at him. Instead of anger as he expected, however, an amused, knowing expression adorned her features. He might’ve thought she looked pretty hadn’t it been for the wickedness of her smile.

“Read.” She instructed him.

Danny did as he was told...only to furrow his brow in confusion. What the…? Reading over the pages he couldn’t make sense of anything written on them. The inked markings splattered all over couldn’t even be considered hieroglyphics! Squinting at the offending piece of paper, he tried reading aloud. “Spiral...lightning bolt...spork?...What kind of sick mind came up with this?!”

Sam let out a hollow laugh. “You really think that if you were really able to read this book in the first place all by yourself, you’d even need to call for me?” She rolled her eyes at him, not knowing what to think; either this guy was messing with her head or he was an idiot. She motioned with her hand for the book to return to her “Limit yourself to keeping your subjects in line and let me handle this. Although, on second thought, I might actually be asking way too much of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The green-eyed ghost didn’t like where this was going.

Still reading, Lady Arcana raised her palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, for a ghost that’s supposed to be the undisputable ruler of an entire race after having defeated a tyrant, you sure have a lot of detractors defying your authority.”

“Oh, please! Like you know anything about my subjects or any possible detractors.” Was it true he was often fending off ghosts who didn’t care for his laws to stay clear of Amity Park? Saying he didn’t occasionally get his ass handed to him would be like saying his parents took kindly to people who disrespect their jumpsuits, but he didn’t have to tell her that.

“I know more than enough.” Sam countered.

“Oh, yeah? Name one ghost who doesn’t respect my rule and still causes trouble.” The halfa challenged. What was he trying to get out of this? At least ¾ of his enemies screamed their names and evil plots whenever they were freed from the Ghost Zone! In Ember’s case, she literally depended on people knowing and chanting her name.

“That poacher ghost of yours...what’s his name?”

A poacher ghost? Who the fuck was she talking aboー? “You mean Skulker?”

Sam perked up at that. “Yes, that one! He so obviously doesn’t respect your authority. I mean, he literally hunts you, the Ghost King, for sport almost every two weeks!”

An undignified sound escaped the halfa’s throat, but that was the last of his concerns at the moment. “Okay, first of all,” he started, raising one gloved finger, “he so totally respects my authority. Whenever I need help, he’s always willing to put the whole hunting-the-most-unique-specimen-ever aside for the greater good. And second,” he sent her a pointed look, floating closer to her. He revelled in the way she uncomfortably shrunk away from him; served her right, “Skulker’s not a poacher, he’s a hunter!”

“Does he have a permit or a hunting license?” Lady Arcana asked, not missing a beat.

That actually gave him pause. “Well...no, butー!”

“If a hunter hunts with no permit, then he’s a poacher!” Seriously, how dense could this dude be?

“You seem to be forgetting that Skulker is a resident of the Ghost Zone; my domain. Whatever laws are followed on Earth or among your kind, do not necessarily apply to us.”

“That outta shut her up,” he thought triumphantly.

“So you’re saying you’re okay with innocent creatures dying solely for the purpose of flattering one ghost’s ego?”

Well, apparently not. Danny spluttered at that. Who was this woman anyway, Jane Goodall?! “Whaー? No, of course not!” He vehemently denied before changing topics. This woman was about to get a taste of her own medicine. “But what’s with all these pointing fingers anyway?! I bet some of your ‘loyal’ witches also commit their own atrocities right under your nose.”

Oh, she was going to blast him into next Thursday for that! Standing up from her chair, Sam slammed her hands against the table (careful not to hurt or startle DeMilo, though). “For your information,” she snarled at the ghost before her, “the only huntress in my clan is Diana. And not only is she formidable, sheーalsoーhasーaーpermit!”

Fed up with the ridiculous conversation and the even more ridiculous woman, Danny slammed his own hands down on the table, even if he was floating. “Again with the permit! What’s with you and permits?! What are you, a cop?!”

“I’m a queen!” Sam all but roared. “So, yes, it is my job to ensure certain jobs are only trusted to people with permits!”

Danny was about to continue ranting, but he stopped himself. All this pointless fighting was only making them waste time, and they couldn’t afford that. He didn’t understand how she wasn’t already exhausted from all the arguing. Rubbing his face with his hands, he let himself fall back on his chair. “Let’s...let’s just keep on investigating. Forget I said anything.”

Sam was about to retort when she took notice of the white-haired ghost’s tired eyes, her own fatigue finally kicking in. Slumping her shoulders as she, too, fell back on her chair once again, she continued reading. “Yeah, sure. That’ll be for the best.”

They stayed in silence for a while after that. Lady Arcana reading intently, and Danny praying to all things above him that he’d be able to survive the day. Eventually, the Witch Queen broke the silence, slamming her book shut. His head snapping up at the sound, Danny dared to hope. “Any luck?”

The queen sighed. “I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

His heart sank. “The bad news,” he moaned pitifully.

“Bad news is, there’s nothing in this book about what could possibly be causing the Ghost Zone to create more portals than usual. The most it has is the spell I use to get here, but that’s about it.”

Danny was convinced his heart was now lost somewhere along his knees. “And the good news?”

“This isn’t the only book that might have information on the Ghost Zone. When our people parted ways for good after you-know-what,” the look of resentment was back on her face and Danny didn’t know what to do; he should be the one feeling offended! “most of our knowledge was forgotten, but not lost.”

“Meaning?” He prompted her to finish her statement.

“Meaning, there’s still probably many more books on the topic.” She finished.

“Which means…” Danny began, only for the two of them to groan in dismay. As nice as it was that not everything was lost just because that particular book didn’t have the answers, having to look for another spellbook or grimoire meant they would have to keep meeting with each other. For Lady Arcana would never leave a precious heirloom belonging to her people out of her sight and in the Ghost Zone, and Danny couldn’t afford to take his eyes off of her in case she and her kind double-crossed them.

In other words, they were stuck with each other until further notice...He was starting to regret not being fully killed by the accident the day he got his powers.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fic #my fic #your heart #danny fenton #sam manson #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #oc #Amethyst Ocean #ghost king au #witch queen au #ghost king! danny #witch queen! sam #enemies to friends to lovers

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defyances · 3 years

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𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀

( where yugen is so incredibly obsessed with this woman that she decides to rant about her )

on: her followers

to start us off, we’ll discuss the main event of irelia’s performance: her relationship with blossoming blade. they are very close with each other, and it can be interpreted as platonic or romantic. i only say this because they establish their relationship as teacher/student, a platonic/familial bond that can be as powerful as a romantic one. but i also digress, given the affectionate remarks they give each other such as:

irelia: i wish i could give you silks, but i must give you steel. blossoming blade: stay by my side. i cannot ask for more.

irelia: ionians into formation! blossoming blade: i’d follow you to the black heart of noxus itself.

&& there is so much more. blossoming blade is not confident in her ability to fight, much like irelia && her lack of confidence in her ability to lead, which might explain why irelia has some sort of connection to her. she sees her as a mirror of herself, and much like she needed at one point, blossoming blade needs someone to support her. so, she will give that plus much more. lastly, irelia’s reaction upon blossoming blade’s death; it is simply undeniable that they love each other.

i am a bit bothered by the lack of interactions between irelia && zinneia since it is implied that zinneia is her former mentor:

irelia: zinneia, you are a master at your craft. zinneia: and fate has sent you to give my craft purpose.

irelia: as a child, i watched you dance at the placidium every spring. zinneia: it was your bravery that brought me to the fight.

i was hoping to have more information on their relationship && the sort of impact zinneia had on irelia, but at the same time, it gives me the opportunity to fill in the gaps! given zinneia’s interactions with the rest of irelia’s followers, she is an elder ( we will not talk about how that isn’t reflected in her card art ) who leads the dance program at the placidium. while irelia’s o’ma taught her how to dance, zinneia perfected it with her lessons, and she became the mother/grandmother figure in her life once all her family members passed away. it assures me that irelia did have a support system ( even if a part of her might disagree. ) i will do a more thorough ( * headcanon based ) look at their relationship in another post.

when irelia said she is a warm && caring person, she really meant it. she cares a great deal for her followers as shown:

coastal defender: generations tended this land. i cannot leave. irelia: we must retreat for now, but i promise we’ll return.

ribbon dancer: stand behind me! they won’t hurt you. irelia: if they hurt you, i’d never forgive myself.

fighting for your freedom is important, yes but not so recklessly. if a battle isn’t turning out in their favor, irelia would rather retreat and keep her followers safe rather than dying in vain. her tone is mother-like, always worrying for them even though they are confident and determined to protect their home, and at their deaths, she is torn apart. she is both grateful ( ‘ your sacrifice mattered ’ ) && heartbroken ( ‘ so young . . . ’ ), which is why i emphasize her hesitance to believe in herself as a leader. she is responsible for their lives and for each that falls, she fails. she cannot fail them ( something she says herself upon the death of her card ); her people deserve to live to see the day of bittersweet victory.

on: noxus

as expected, irelia harbors a lot of hate towards them, and rightfully so. however, what i want to talk about is riot confirming my assumption on how deep this hate runs.

imperial demolitionist: for the empire. irelia: so young, already so wicked.

imperial demolitionist: remember the objectives. irelia: ‘murder the innocent’ and ‘destroy their homes’?

for those who don’t know, imperial demolitionist is a child. irelia is speaking to a child and not in a tone you would expect an adult would talk to a child ( especially one who was brainwashed to commit awful atrocities. ) this confirmed my headcanon of irelia’s white && black mentality: no matter who you are or how you came to be, if you are noxian, she will kill you. she will refuse to see you as anything but a tyrant, and she will continue to allow this hate to fester and dehumanize noxus as a whole. she won’t even refer to them by name! she has her reasons, given how much they have taken away from her, but it doesn’t make it right. as we all know, noxus has slaves, ranging from adult to children, and will send them to war whether they volunteered or not. they have to act in order to survive, but irelia can’t see that they’re trying to live; she sees them trying to kill her home, so in turn, she’ll kill them. && that is a flaw i will cover more on in another post.

even though the faith in herself wavers, the passion to protect ionia doesn’t with how confident she talks back to the noxians. she threatens them, promises to kill them, even when faced with their technology and their machinery. she has that much faith in her people and the land, and it’s admirable. no wonder why people follow her.

on: shurima

i never expected interactions between irelia and the shurimans ( especially with azir and nasus ), but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless! azir && irelia are two fierce leaders, fighting tooth and nail to secure the safety of their homes; however, the difference between their idea of leading is evident within their interactions.

azir: a leader must see victory beyond each loss. irelia: my heart weeps for every fallen ally.

azir: war is an instrument that can make or destroy its leaders. irelia: instruments create beauty; war ends it.

from my perspective, azir isn’t so affected by the loss of lives in the war like irelia is ( it could be because he’s become desensitized after leading for so long or he truly doesn’t care ), and i could be wrong as i am not so familiar with azir. but with irelia, it is obvious that she is very sensitive towards the death of her people. whether they were close to her or not, as far as she knows, they were innocent souls, and they were dragged into this war unprepared. so many lives lost, so many deaths unjustified — it is simply unfair to her people, who have done nothing wrong. && no matter how many times she’s seen a body belonging to the first lands, it never hurts any less. she’s been able to mask that pain over the years she’s grown, but she still grieves, and it can be seen/heard whenever someone very close to her dies.

another difference i like to point out between the two leaders is their viewpoints on war: azir sees war almost like survival of the fittest. in the second quote, war is a way to create leaders, the best of the best while irelia sees it as destroying the beauty of life. war is a massacre, no matter which side wins, && even though she also strives for victory, she will only remember it as the day that peace died.

nasus: sorrow weighs upon you, but death could bring you peace. irelia: not yet, curator. i am far from done.

this made me snort because it’s basically nasus telling irelia, “k’ing yourself would make you feel better,” but i’m sure it isn’t meant to sound that way. rather, he understands her grief && how badly it is affecting her, so he is “testing” her will to see how strong it really is. if she had the opportunity, would she die && end her suffering there, or would she continue to preserve despite the agony she holds in her heart? irelia answers almost incredulously; if she dies now, ends her suffering now, who will lead her people to victory? certainly not anyone she knows/trusts. so, she cannot die. she will not die, not until she knows that her home is safe. ( this plays a bit into my headcanon that irelia doesn’t really fear death since she anticipates the day of reuniting with her family && ending her torment. )

there isn’t much to say about her interactions with the soothsayer && the voice of the risen other than she’s grateful for their aid in these trying times.

on: miscellaneous champs

lastly, i’ll be touching upon her interactions with in-game characters — which, suffice to say, isn’t a whole lot. it’s a bit disappointing. i expected more interactions with shen, karma, riven, and zed; i expected interactions with yasuo, yone, and lulu ( who is apparently in ionia?? ) but unfortunately, we weren’t given that. but i won’t say i’m heavily disappointed either because we did get some interactions with ionian && noxian champs plus extra.

shen: the balance requires a watchful eye. irelia: ionia needs brave hearts and able hands, too.

much like akali, irelia does not believe in waiting around && letting the land fight on its own. she even questions shen’s philosophy because of the slaughter that happened, which makes me theorize her faith in the spirit; clearly, she still believes in it but not so deeply like shen and the elders.

karma: ionia speaks through me. irelia: then tell me when this bloody fight will end?

she even questions the spirit of ionia itself, in a tone that is tired and desperate to end this terror. she is a lot nicer to karma in lor than lol, which confirms my suspicion that while irelia was initially frustrated with karma’s ( lack of ) action, she has come to understand her reasoning through the years that they’ve worked together.

zed: pledge yourself to the shadows. irelia: noxian tyranny has already forged our bond.

riven: [ dies ] irelia: irredeemable.

isn’t it crazy how irelia would rather side with the “evil” shadow master rather than the former noxian? of course, zed isn’t all bad, and riven isn’t all good, but it just further proves how she doesn’t treat noxians as humans at all; however, i would also like to point out her interaction with riven is if she’s against her. irelia would perhaps give her a chance if her quote in-game with her proves anything: “you want redemption? join me, and kill your masters!”

&& i’m still flabbergasted by her interaction with zed. she might not entirely agree with him, but she’ll work with him without hesitance. after all, they do share the philosophy of killing all noxians.

irelia: join us, prince jarvan. dance by our side. jarvan: i’m afraid i was born with two left feet. it’s a lightshield thing…

jarvan: noxus will pay for what they did to your people. irelia: yes, demacian prince. we will see to that.

so not only does she have shurima’s support but also demacia’s! a bit shocking since demacia is antimage and irelia is technically a mage, but i am glad to see that she and jarvan are on good terms.

irelia: my family...h-have you seen them? kindred: drifting between innocence and consequence.

STOP!! astra and i literally discussed this: if irelia was given the chance to talk to kindred, she would most certainly ask for her family && question why she was spared. of course, kindred would answer ominously, which in this interaction, makes me curious. between innocence and consequence? what do they mean? is her family stuck in limbo? are they currently being judged based on irelia’s actions in life? or are they waiting for irelia to join them? perhaps we’ll never know.

#˗ˏˋ⠀ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧. ›› the day you died，you did not tell your body.#/ wow this is the most i've written for a character ever #/ three hours n i was just rambling nonsense at the end sfjdhsb

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hazzabeeforlou · 4 years

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Walls Masterpost

It’s the 28th of pride month, and fitting to post this now. The soul of Walls is the unabashed, fierce, tender, and brave love of a man who has shown for years that he is proud. This album isn’t a cohesive story line, nor do I think it’s even the album Louis envisioned himself putting out. He only flirts with true indie music like that of his idols; Always You is a pop masterpiece, TOU is a ballad, and Perfect Now a love song in the style of Little Things. The album is a collection of letters each addressed to a singular recipient, personal, self-searching, blunt, too vulnerable to be easy listening (if you really listen). Walls shows us the scope of Louis’ capacity for love. It’s the culmination of years of pain, heartbreak, and hope, written with the raw honestly of an archeologist stumbling upon his own personal memoirs.

Please feel free to ask questions if any of the technical stuff is confusing, and remember these are my interpretations as a classically trained musician. I will use the name “Subject” for the implied “you” in each of Louis’ songs.

Kill My Mind: in F minor. The verses are i VII IV, the tiny bridge IV III I (?), and the chorus is VII IV I, repeat.

There are two oddities about this. First, in a natural minor key, the forth chord is minor (iv) but Louis keeps this B flat chord in major, changing the D flat to a D natural. Secondly, in the chorus, Louis changes from using a minor one chord to a major one. He raises the A flat to an A natural as he sings “Raise my body [A natural here] back to life.” This bit of text painting not only illustrates his words, but lends the song an off kilter feel, confusing the key signature between F minor and B flat Major (which has an A and D natural).

Kill My Mind is Louis’ only ‘drugs’ song on the album, and I say that both because the metaphor is obvious and because he uses that obvious metaphor to compare addiction to a relationship. It reminds me, lyrically, of Back To You, and, like that song, could easily be interpreted as about a controlling force in his life on whom he’s become dependent, or a lover.

Don’t Let It Break Your Heart: this is easily in the key of B flat Major. The verses are I IV vi 6/4 V 6/4, the bridge vi vi V IV vi V, the chorus same as the verses, I IV vi 6/4 V 6/4.

This is Louis’ most hopeful track, and is so clearly about grief. Much has been made of the first line “on our way to twenty seven” being a reference to the 27 Club, a cultural phenomenon of icons/musicians/artists that die at that age due to fame/high risk lifestyle, but Louis then says they’re “doing better,” implying that both he and Subject are in this category. The rest of the song is him counseling and comforting Subject, empathizing with the hurt of loss, encouraging Subject, “Don’t let it kill you even when it hurts like hell.” He knows this pain, knows it deep, and knows that it takes time to heal.

Two Of Us: IV I V iv V IV I V vi V. This progression is the same for both verses and chorus. The bridge is a bit hard to decipher as it moves in 3rds and not triads, something like IV V vi V vi V.

Not much needs to be said about this song. It’s Louis’ beautiful ode to his mom, and he sings it with incredible vulnerability and heart.

We Made It: this is the revolving door song. One progression is used, IV I V iii, and repeats from start to finish. It keeps reminding me of Coldplay.

What’s interesting is that each chord functions as the subdominant or leading chord of the next, basically spinning us ever forwards so we never stop on a tonic home base. The E flat IV chord leads to the B flat I, the B flat I then functions as a IV chord to the V chord (F Major), then the D minor III chord functions as a major VII leading to a I of E flat (the beginning IV chord we started with in B flat Major) and the cycle repeats.

Louis leaked part of this song several years ago, and a line about moonlight replaced the “met you at your uni” section, interestingly. “Playing something pop’y on the same four chords, used to worry bout it but I don’t no more.” Young love. He remembers how it tasted. Subject was high on what? Adrenaline? Orgasm? It’s a tender reminiscence with a hint of tragedy, “don’t know why they put this all on us when were so young.”

Too Young: in E Major, the verses and chorus are IV I V vi (the vi is omitted at the cadences), the bridge is vi I V IV I V.

Louis is once again looking back, regretful. Louis doesn’t speak in metaphors, the lyrics are to the point and precise. He’s hurt Subject, he’s given in to pressures, he’s cut subject off... the “2 years since I’ve seen your face” of course doesn’t fit the chronology of the album, but rather of his public life, as does the previous song’s line of “met you at your uni.” It’s interesting, then, that while Louis takes the blame for so much, he still says ‘we were too young’ and not ‘I was too young,’ implying that Subject was at least partly to blame for the hurt too, if only by fault of immaturity.

Walls: This is in B Major. The chord progression for verses is

vi I vi I, V [V7 with the melody note on the E natural] IV V V7 II IV i6 (passing chord)

chorus, IV I V I6, IV I V III6 vi V II6 Vi ii I (IV I passing chords)

bridge, IV vi V, IV vi V, Vi vi III6 vi V II (this holds over til chorus)

This is Louis’ tour de force. Walls is as complex as it is beautiful. His use of Major II chords, altered from a normal ii chord in Major key signatures, and his use of a Major III chord (which, again, is minor in Major key signatures) adds an unconventional twist. The opening and closing lyrics, “nothing wakes you up like waking up alone,” are set against a sparse vi I; but you see the vi chord doesn’t normally go to I, usually ii, IV, and V have that role, so by using a vi to I Louis is showing us the tonic alone, nothing ‘surrounding’ it. This song is so complex and layered, and I would argue it’s the one song besides OTB that is ripe for poetic interpretation; on first glance the lyrics seem so obvious, but there’s the music video to consider, the metaphor of him being left alone, high on a wall that has not fallen down, a blank name tag on his chest. The door opening to a desert on one side and a bullseye masquerade on the other has no happy implications, yet Louis has become a man through it all, he says, and he has no regrets about letting his walls crumble for love, damn the consequences he’s suffered.

Habit: in G Major, the verses are I ii IV I, the bridge vi V IV I vi V IV ii7, the chorus I ii IV (vi V added when leading to next verse). Interestingly, in the verse that says “come so far from Princess Park,” the repeated line “in front of me, in front of me” adds two chords to the verse, between the IV and I, a vi and V.

Like in too young, this is an apology, and Louis lays out his sins plainly. And while it’s unequivocal, we can see the extenuating circumstances: “took some time ‘cause I ran out of energy playing someone I heard I’m supposed to be.” There is no more damning line of lyrics. Louis has been exhausted holding some line, an invisible current through his music that he never truly addresses, yet always its there, a background character, a force of cruel divinity. “Don’t know why they put this all on us when were so young.” “I’m too far gone to pray.”

Always You: This song could conquer radio in half a heartbeat, given a chance. It’s in E Major, verses are I vi IV, chorus is I vi IV, the same.

This is world tour of missing Subject, this is Miss You but rephrased, reworked, gone from punk to pop princess. We have Amsterdam, Tokyo, LAX, Heathrow, which speak for themselves. “My baby,” Louis quotes over and over. He’s been “chasing a high,” and I’m reminded of the high in We Made It, “baby you were still high.” Orgasm? Adrenaline? Love?

Fearless: A minor. Verses, i VII VI (added VI VII when leading back to verse), bridge is i V VI (III VII passing chords can be heard) i V VI VII

Now the very short chorus (”fearless, fearless,”) is, if we stick to A minor, III, III4/2, i, VI. I think, however, that at this point the piece modulates, going from A minor to C Major, (A minor is the relative minor of C Major, which means that the two keys share a key signature and can go into and out of each other easily) making the progressions I I4/2 (4/2 is an inversion of a 7th chord) vi IV. Now to add complexity on top of that, having a I7 chord is incredibly unusual, so I wouldn’t label it that, I would label it a V4/2 of IV, meaning that C7 chord functions as a cadential chord leading to F, or the IV chord, of C Major. This is all rather complicated, but knowing how it was constructed shows the song’s complexity. The final “fearless, fearless” progression then is: I, V4/2 of IV, vi, VI.

In this song I believe Louis’ Subject is himself. it’s a song about fame and anxiety and the lost innocence (and gutsiness) of youth. It’s a brutal song that I doubt Louis would write to anyone besides himself given how he focuses solely on his own faults and doesn’t lay anything at the feet of his other Subjects. The laughing children heard fist and last are a cutting effect.

Perfect Now: D Major. Verses, I I7 [again this is technically a V7 of IV, and functions as that since it leads to IV] IV6/4 iv6/4

bridge, iii vi ii vi

chorus, IV V I IV V I, IV V I IV I

second bridge, V vi IV I, V vi IV vi (then to chorus)

This is a strange little song, perhaps its most unusual quirk being the switch from a Major IV chord to a minor iv chord in the verse. The Subject in this song loves to dance, and I’m reminded of KMM. Subject isn’t just not feeling pretty, they’re depressed, they are reticent to be looked upon (”don’t hide away”) they are a crown-less queen, and tears are the norm. Subject has a platform - everyone is looking at them - and is a scene stealer, charismatic without trying. I’ve attempted and failed to understand this song in any way other than that Subject is dealing with dysphoria, and that this is Louis’ ode to their perfection, an affirmation of an identity that perhaps can only be realized in private. It is in this interpretation that the Major to minor flip of the 4 chord makes me absolutely crumble into pieces.

Defenceless: C flat Major (a most unusual key for a pop song). Verses are I V6 vi IV, bridge IV vi I V, chorus is IV vi I V (the falsetto second bridge is the same)

Defenceless is Louis at his most honest. Who writes these lyrics in a pop song? “You don’t have to keep on being strong for me and you,” “just want to be loved by you,” “you don’t have a thing to prove,” “I’m too tired to be tough,” “Wish I didn’t need so much of you.” A moth to a flame is different from a moth to a light; immolation is a theme in love stories. This is too honest for a love song, and it feels intrusive just to listen. Louis has a deep love for Subject, an abiding care and need for them.

Only The Brave: E flat Major. Verse, I (IV I) IV I, I (IV I) IV I

Chorus is vi V IV I [ii iii IV V OR IV V IV V, I can’t determine because of the movement in 3rds] I

This song. I can only compare it to when I used to cry when I’d see speeches about gay love; I never understood why, but I just knew, in my heart, before my brain had figured it out yet, that I was the same. This song is that. It is so intrinsically gay, the metaphors are woven in every word, every nuance. Burn history, break rules, cry like a fool, close enough to touch... the church of burnt romances. “I’m too far gone to pray.” Love is only for the brave. Of course it takes a great deal of bravery to love anything completely, to face the prospect of loss knowing how that love will rip you apart. And in the end, some might say from the cradle to the grave you are ultimately alone. Yet Louis knows better than any that those you love are always with you, “even when I’m on my own, I know I won’t be alone.” I believe this song is Louis’ concluding thesis to an album filled to the brim with anecdotes of his own love, a gift to us speaking of the commonality he shares with the wider community, a history of brave love, of loneliness, of too many dying stars in the sky. The tall tales, only hello hello, no goodbye; we don’t focus on the goodbyes. We tell our stories with happy endings, but love, sometimes it doesn’t have those, for some of us it’s a solo song.

Louis Tomlinson, I’m sure there’s not a chance in a million you’ll ever read this but, if you do, I see you, we see you. You are so loved. Thank you for this album, thank you for giving us this gift of love. Continue your artistic journey and follow your heart. We’ll be here, because for us, it’s Always You.

#walls masterpost #mine #music analysis #lyric analysis #walls album #louis tomlinson #walls analysis

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michaelbogild · 3 years

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Quotes by Mahatma Gandhi

A 'No' uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a 'Yes' merely uttered to please, or worse, to avoid trouble.

A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave.

A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes.

A man, whilst he is dreaming, believes in his dream; he is undeceived only when he is awakened from his slumber.

A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.

A thousand candles can be lighted from the flame of one candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness can be spread without diminishing that of yourself.

Always aim at complete harmony of thought and word and deed. Always aim at purifying your thoughts and everything will be well.

An error does not become truth by reason of multiplied propagation, nor does the truth become error because nobody will see it.

An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.

An ounce of practice is worth more than tons of preaching.

As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world - that is the myth of the atomic age - as in being able to remake ourselves.

Be the change that you wish to see in the world.

Compassion is a muscle that gets stronger with use.

Distinguish between real needs and artificial wants and control the latter.

Don't talk about it. The rose doesn't have to propagate its perfume. It just gives it forth, and people are drawn to it. Live it, and people will come to see the source of your power.

Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.

Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's needs, but not every man's greed.

Everyone holds a piece of the truth.

Fearlessness is the first requisite of spirituality. Cowards can never be moral.

Friendship that insists upon agreement on all things isn't worth the name.

God has no religion.

Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.

Hate the sin, love the sinner.

Honest differences are often a healthy sign of progress.

I call him religious who understands the suffering of others.

I cannot conceive of a greater loss than the loss of one's self-respect.

I may be a despicable person, but when Truth speaks through me I am

I want freedom for the full expression of my personality.

I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.

If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide.

If we are to reach real peace in the world, we shall have to begin with the children.

In a gentle way, you can shake the world.

In doing something, do it with love or never do it at all.

In matters of conscience, the law of the majority has no place.

In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth.

invincible.

It has always been a mystery to me how men can feel themselves honored by the humiliation of their fellow beings.

It is easier to build a boy than to mend a man.

It is wrong and immoral to seek to escape the consequences of one's acts.

It seems to me as clear as daylight that abortion would be a crime.

it's easy to stand in the crowd but it takes courage to stand alone

Liberty and democracy become unholy when their hands are dyed red with innocent blood.

Love is the strongest force the world possesses and yet it is the humblest imaginable.

Manliness consists not in bluff, bravado or loneliness. It consists in daring to do the right thing and facing consequences whether it is in matters social, political or other. It consists in deeds not words.

Many people, especially ignorant people, want to punish you for speaking the truth, for being correct, for being you. Never apologize for being correct, or for being years ahead of your time. If you’re right and you know it, speak your mind. Speak your mind. Even if you are a minority of one, the truth is still the truth.

My Life is My Message

No one can ride on the back of a man unless it is bent.

Nonviolence is a weapon of the strong.

Nothing has saddened me so much in life as the hardness of heart of educated people.

Nothing is so aggravating as calmness.

Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear of punishment.

Prayer is the key of the morning and the bolt of the evening.

Satisfaction lies in the effort, not in the attainment.

Seek not greater wealth, but simpler pleasure; not higher fortune, but deeper felicity.

Service which is rendered without joy helps neither the servant nor the served. But all other pleasures and possessions pale into nothingness before service which is rendered in a spirit of joy.

Silence becomes cowardice when occasion demands speaking out the whole truth and acting accordingly.

Speak only if it improves upon the silence.

The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.

The day the power of love overrules the love of power, the world will know peace.

The future depends on what you do today.

The greatness of humanity is not in being human, but in being humane.

The more efficient a force is, the more silent and the more subtle it is.

The path is the goal.

The seeker after truth should be humbler than the dust. The world crushes the dust under its feet, but the seeker after truth should so humble himself that even the dust could crush him. Only then, and not till then, will he have a glimpse of truth.

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

There are many causes I would die for. There is not a single cause I would kill for.

There are no good-byes, where ever you'll be, you'll be in my heart.

There are only two ways to live your life: as though nothing is a miracle, or as though everything is a miracle.

There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.

There are two days in the year that we can not do anything, yesterday and tomorrow

There is force in the universe, which, if we permit it, will flow through us and produce miraculous results.

There is no 'way to peace,' there is only 'peace.

There is no school equal to a decent home and no teacher equal to a virtuous parent.

There is no such thing as ‘too insane’ unless others turn up dead due to your actions.

There's no God higher than truth.

To forgive is not to forget. The merit lies in loving in spite of the vivid knowledge that one that must be loved is not a friend. There is not merit in loving an enemy when you forget him for a friend.

To give pleasure to a single heart by a single act is better than a thousand heads bowing in prayer.

True beauty lies in purity of the heart.

True love is boundless like the ocean and, swelling within one, spreads itself out and, crossing all boundaries and frontiers, envelops the whole world.

True morality consists not in following the beaten track, but in finding the true path for ourselves, and fearlessly following it.

Truth never damages a cause that is just.

We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.

What barrier is there that love cannot break?

When asked what he thought of Western civilization): 'I think it would be a good idea.

Whenever you are confronted with an opponent. Conquer him with love.

Where love is, there God is also.

Where there is fear there is no religion.

Where there is love there is life.

You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.

You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist.

You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is like an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.

You yourself as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve love and affection.

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

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Be Mine, this Quarantine

"Dude." Dean nervously chuckles, scrubbing his face with his hand. The other one holds the phone to his ear. "I haven't even been able to ask this guy out to dinner. And you're asking me to ask him to go into isolation with me?"

"You're being dramatic again." Sam tells him, matter-of-factly, as if Dean's the one being unreasonable here.

Sam is the one who specifically called him on a Sunday from California to remind him to self-isolate, but "do it with someone like Castiel, okay?" - like he's supposed to be taking care of his older brother from fucking Stanford, like Dean knows anyone else like Cas, and like he's ever going to be able to propose something of that sort to Cas.

"He has a third-floor apartment." Sam points out, revisiting all of his super valid points. "You share a dorm with three other guys. And he just seems like the kind who'd be the correct amount of a germophobe." Dean rolls his eyes - although he also agrees. "Dean, you share so many classes with him that if nothing else, you could revise your entire semester together - and to top it all off, you're like best friends."

Benny comes to Dean's head and he starts to protest.

"You text him, Dean." The eyeroll and bitchface are audible in Sam's voice. "You, who exits all text chains you've ever been added to because quote unquote you're not an adolescent teenager with a celebrity crush, or looking to be catfished - you, Dean Winchester, text Cas."

That - wasn't far from the truth.

He wouldn't call them texting buddies or anything, but Castiel always sends a good morning text, and Dean always sends him a picture of his breakfast (because that's what he's up to by the time Castiel wakes up) and sometimes Dean's late for class because he lost track of time while talking to Cas, and sometimes they stay up all night together discussing the most inconsequential things like why mattresses matter to Dean and bees matter to Cas, and - yeah. He should probably call them texting buddies.

"Whatever, bitch." Dean throws back, taking the small losses his way as long as he wins the final battle. "Fine, we're friends. That doesn't automatically mean we'll be able to live together."

"You cannot actually mean that." Sam scoffs. "You're the best kind of neat freak I know, because you just end up doing all the tidying up by yourself. And you can cook." Dean huffs. "Admit it, jerk. Compatibility in a shared living space shouldn't be your concern."

Sure, Sam makes some good points, but Dean has the biggest card up his sleeve - which will trump all of Sam's meticulously presented arguments.

He's sorta in love with Cas.

But to say out loud to his little brother, it comes out as, "What if Cas doesn't want me there?"

Sam pauses.

Point, Dean Winchester.

"That's exactly why you need to talk to him." He finally says, but he sounds more thoughtful like it finally entered his twenty two year old brain that Cas might not want to shack up with Dean.

"Like hell, I will."

"I swear on your bullshit, Dean," Sam threatens. "I won't hesitate to take a cheap-ass flight, straight to Cas's apartment."

Dean balks. "You're not getting on any planes right now, Sammy -"

"And you're asking him." Sam declares, and if he were in front of Dean, he'd be crossing his arms on his chest which usually implies the end of a debate in Sam-the-to-be-lawyer speak. "Promise me."

"What will I even say?" Dean retorts, indignant. "Like, do I just go up to the guy like 'hey, wanna have me impose on you for a bunch of weeks?'" Sam snickers like Dean's trying to be funny. "'I promise to clean and make you food if you let me live with you during a pandemic'?"

"Something like that." Sam laughs, and Dean has to smile - because that doesn't happen very often and when it does, it reminds him of a past where they were much closer than California and Kansas. "Tell me how it goes, okay?"

"Nothing's going -"

"You promised."

"I didn't fucking promise a thing -"

The line clicks, and Sam is gone. Dean lands back on his bed, and wonders briefly if it'd be easier to die.

He calls Cas - because they're not goddamn texting buddies, no matter what Sam says - and asks if he's free for lunch.

Cas says yes and actually sounds excited about it.

When Dean reaches their usual diner, he takes longer than usual to park the Impala - all the while thinking about how he's going to frame the question to Cas, because he's fought it out with himself and knows that he's going to do it. He'd also taken longer than usual to drive there from the University apparently, because when he reaches, Cas is already there.

He's sitting on a table for two - probably just because that allows him to have a seat against the wall and Cas is kind of adorable about small things like that - and he's slumping over his phone.

But he puts it down when Dean approaches, and as Dean takes off his jacket, Cas puts his phone back in his jeans and uses his fingers to fidget instead. When Dean sits, a little amused, Cas is the one who speaks up first and in a hurry.

"Would you like to quarantine with me?"

Dean blinks. He takes a moment to think and then asks, "Did Sam get to you?"

"Uh, your brother Sam?" Cas frowns, shaking his head. "No, why would he?"

"Nevermind." Dean believes him. Though he cannot believe what just happened.

"So?"

"Oh." He's supposed to give an answer, because Cas doesn't know how much Dean's been thinking about it. Though, in his defense, most of the time, Cas tends to be so goddamn intuitive that Dean feels like he can read his mind.

Nonetheless, Dean tries to answer as casually as he can. "Yes. I mean, of course. Thank you for asking."

That's Dean Winchester in a sentence.

He tries to shoot for the normal, and ends up in affirmative-response-to-a-promposal territory.

"Are you sure?" Cas asks, sounding slightly less sure than before.

Did you not hear me say 'of course, thank you for asking' after that yes?

"Yeah, buddy." He pulls the menu from Cas's side of the table to his, sliding it on the table. "So what are we eating?"

"I'm not forcing you into this, am I?" Cas interrupts, hand on Dean's wrist jolting his attention back and ruining his complete 'casual' cover, because now Dean's sweating too. "Just because I asked, and just because we're friends - you don't have to say yes to anything, okay?"

"I know that." Dean gives Cas his best reassuring smile, though it's a little non-assured from his own core.

"I wake up late and I'm not sure when I sleep." Cas confesses, eyes worried. "The flat is clean only because I stuff everything in the closets. And I have a neighbor - you remember Balthazar, right? He just returned from France."

"How long ago is 'just'?" Dean repeats, and then adds. "And frankly I'd assumed he was simply being pretentious when we met."

"Two months." Castiel bites his lip. "And he is. The accent is fake."

"We'll survive." Dean announces, grinning broader. "Plus I can't wait to hear that guy minus the accent now."

Castiel makes an exasperated sound.

"Cas, how do I put this?" Dean sighs, knowing that things would eventually come to this. "I would be grateful if you'd let me stay with you, and -"

"Sometimes I wander around the house with my cat past midnight." Cas volunteers, out of the blue.

Naked?

Dean's brain jumps there and then he drags it back from the gutter - or, you know, the land of tempting imaginable scenarios.

"I want to live with you, you dumbass."

Cas pauses like that's at all surprising. "You do?"

"I was literally trying to figure out how to ask." Dean rubs the back of his neck, feeling his face heat up. "And then you did, okay? And then I said yes, and I wanted us to not talk about it all lunch because later we're going to have important shit to figure out like food and beer and toilet paper and -"

"When exactly you'll move in." Cas offers, and when he puts it like that, a little bit of Dean melts.

"Uh-huh."

"Okay." Cas smiles, and finally it's that smile - eyes all crinkled, nose all scrunched up, the very definition of gummy - and fuck, Dean's very much in love with him and has just dug himself a huge, apartment-shaped hole, but he'd fucking like to live with him too, and he's a fucking liar if he isn't being a little hopeful about it too.

"We'll not talk about it." Cas declares. "And before, you'd asked me what we were eating?"

Dean nods.

"Well, I asked the waitress for recommendations for something memorable and she offered me the specials menu." Cas says, innocent as though everyone in the city doesn't know not to ask for the specials' menu at Reed's diner.

Dean starts to pray.

"So, kale pecan pesto." Cas announces. "And yes, I had to Google what that is later and no, I'm not showing you."

"God-fucking-dammit, Cas." Dean glares at him. "These might be our last diner meals for the foreseeable future, I don't want to have rabbit food -"

And then Cas winks at him like that's something he's allowed to do, and Dean's suddenly flustered again - and if that isn't an apt summary of how living with Cas is going to be like, he doesn't know what is.

#destiel #quarantine #destiel fluff #self isolation #destiel crack #soft bois #destiel ficlet #destiel college au #young destiel #young dean winchester #young castiel #castiel #castiel/dean winchester #castiel/dean #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #not spoilers #representation week #coronavirus

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tornrose24 · 3 years

Text

My Lordsona’s letters, diary entries, and journal entry in Mother Miranda’s Lab.

I remembered that in each of the lords’ areas, there tends to be letters/journal entries/notes that are either about them or that they wrote themselves in addition to what Mother Miranda wrote about each one in her lab. I thought it would be fun to make some for my lordsona as a way to add additional information (including what could have lead to getting a cadou in the first place, because I don’t think those are given out so freely).

There is mentions of @artistcaptainbendy‘s lordsona Bendypants and their OC Benjamin.

TW: Mentions of gore

(All journal entries located in personal studio in the gallery. Some would hold clues to solving certain puzzles.)

Journal 1

May 3rd, 1968

(page 1)

I would rather swim in Moreau’s lake and be subjected to whatever goes on in Donna’s estate than give another art lesson to Alcina’s girls. She hoped I could cultivate some talent in the three of them, and there was some promise in both Cassandra and Daniela. Bela seemed disinterested and wanted to go to the piano instead. There was some frustration over the past few weeks and it made me thankful I’m their ‘aunt’ or else it wouldn’t have ended well for me.

Weeks later, they presented me with some abominable displays. That one ‘statue’ looked like one of the maids... or what was left of the poor woman. And I doubt that was red paint used on that canvas.

I don’t mind speaking with Alcina herself once in awhile when I want a bit of class and elegance. There’s certainly no denying her sense of taste in decor and her collection of artwork is incredible. But her daughters are too much for me and I don’t agree on her views of all men. She certainly never met my father or my...

(page 2)

Father....

Sorry, I got lost in my memories there for a bit. Tomorrow I am meeting with some of the village children and will give them an art lesson. They are more of a delight compared to those poor excuses for children in that castle.

They admire the other lords, but its possibly for the best that they aren’t allowed to get too close to them.

Reminder to self: Check to see if the Duke has any works of art to add to the gallery when he comes back.

Journal 2

September 2nd 1975

(Page 1)

It appears I finally have a new security guard. The bastard and a friend of his thought he could sneak into MY gallery and steal a painting that I said would cost a fortune. They fell victim to the Escher trap (clearly they didn’t pay attention to his surroundings) and the painting was destroyed.

All that trouble for a Van Gough replica that’d be worth not even a fraction of the true painting.

But then again, what should I have expected from the son of the drunkard who nearly paralyzed me for life with a bullet to the spine and sent me into Mother Miranda?

The man was completely brain dead. The friend was a bloodied mess, but I stitched his arms to the thief, added some details of my own, did a bit of fixing up, and used a Cadou. He’s dull as a rock and doesn’t recall his past life, but he’ll be good at protecting my gallery from other idiots.

I call him David after the famous statue.

September 5th, 1975

(Page 2)

Unsurprisingly, Heisenberg thought my creation was, and I quote ‘a hunk of shit and dumbassery mixed together’ and said he could have done so much better. Unlike him, MY creations ARE true works of art. Of course I’m not interested in getting into an argument with him as he enjoys doing so with Alcina.

I brought David to someone else who’d be fascinated with him. Bendypants seemed intrigued and wondered if I could lend David to them to help build a set.

I’m deeply disturbed that I’ve sunk as low as the others. I didn’t think I’d actually use a cadou but I try to tell myself that what I’ve done was a fitting punishment. Besides, it keeps Mother Miranda off my back for a bit.

Note to self: Need to do something about the additional arms on David. They don’t look like they are as secure as I would like them to be.

October 10th, 1975

(Page 3)

It turns out David developed a soft spot for Benjamin. As in Bendypants’ favorite lycan. He’s been looking at him like a girl harboring a secret crush.

That was.... rather unexpected. I guess David isn’t as dull as I thought. I need to keep an eye on him in case he remembers anything about his former life.

Journal 3

January 20th, 2004

(Page 1)

Karl is crude and a bit much at times. But there’s no denying that he’s rather handsome and I finally was able to convince him to pose for some sketches for a painting after all these years. It took the finest bottle of whiskey the Duke had on hand to convince him.

Bendypants will be so envious of me. They too have a certain soft spot for our fellow lord. Perhaps I can gift them with a replica painting as a present in the future.

I admire that Heisenberg doesn’t bother putting on airs like Alcina and his.... extraverted nature is a breath of fresh air. However the whiskey caused him to spill something rather concerning. He seemed unusually interested in my family’s plot of land in the graveyard.

I’m very concerned about what his intentions are.

(Page 2)

I just paid the gravekeeper to unearth the remains of my family so I can burn them and bury them under the oak tree.

I am NOT letting any of the lords use my family’s remains for whatever they are planning.

March 15th, 2010

(Page 3)

Bendypants invited me to one of their plays. It was ‘A Midsummer Nights Dream.’ It was a delight and helped me take my mind off things. The idea of making some of the characters not quite fit into certain norms that are expected in the village would have made Mother Miranda squirm.

I showed them that painting of Ophelia drowning when we discussed Shakespeare the next day. Sometimes I wonder why the cadou didn’t make me lose my mind like Ophelia–would I have been happier without my sanity in the village, amongst the others? At least I wouldn’t have been aware of what sins I would be committing across the years.

I have deeply cherished my friendship with them. They were there at the funerals for each family member of mine who died. Their condolences were honest compared to the other lords and those who were trying to kiss up to me. Like me, they too have somehow defied time’s cruelty to the body, and have known the loss of a loved one.

(Page 4)

The children are the only others in the village that I am fond of and would protect. Such innocence to the violence hidden in the corners. Sometimes I wish to give into the desire of motherhood, but that would have been the greatest pain I could experience....

(letter hidden in Lord Bendypants’ theater)

Dearest B,

Regardless of what Miranda tells us lords, you are the only true family I have left in this forsaken village. I would have never imagined that wild, mud covered child of the woods would be the one person I could trust.

That woman never was and will NEVER be my mother. Regardless of what she gave to me, I had to watch my family succumb to old age and sickness while I still remain as I am–a Venus forever frozen in youth and beauty. I hope she burns in hell for her sins and for what she has turned me into across the years.

I suspect that whatever she wants with the infant she kept mentioning is not going to end well for us or the village. She is charismatic, but her lack of true warmth makes me uneasy. I get the feeling that death is certain, but as to who for is not clear yet. I have two requests for you if my suspicions are correct.

First, I am going to see if I can hide any children I can find. They were one of the few things that made me happy here and do not deserve whatever Miranda has planned, so I shall sneak them in a room within my gallery. Please do not let any of your lycans harm the children or attack me tomorrow night. Should things go according to plan, they will be able to have the true freedom that was denied to all of us.

Secondly, should I perish from whatever Miranda has in store, retrieve my body, burn it, and bury it under THAT oak tree where I placed the ashes of my family. I think I finally know for sure who was getting into the graves lately, but I will be damned if I let that asshole take my body too.

I will never forget our times together, or the visits to your wonderful theater. Thank you for being there when I needed it the most.

Your friend,

-R

(Journal in Miranda’s lab)

Subject Name: _______ Rose

Cadou Affinity: Somewhat Favorable

Brain Function: Normal

Subject’s spinal chord was damaged by a gunshot wound three days before procedure. Subject has regained full mobility after cadou implantation. Six horn like protrusions have grown out of subject’s skull, yet subject hasn’t suffered any damage to the brain.

Subject’s arms mutate into an armor and bone fragments extend out of limbs like thorns that are strong enough to tear through flesh when provoked. These abilities are somewhat similar to Alcina’s but pales in comparison to what she is capable of.

Insect-like wings extend right out of subject’s backside when the subject wills them to, yet immense pain makes this a rarity. The placement of the wings is exactly where a small piece of cadou was implanted to repair the damaged spine. Additional procedures were required to ensure that the subject could not be able to fly beyond the village borders.

Further mutation turns the subject into something resembling a fae, yet behaves and moves like an insect. However it takes the subject four hours to change back. Subject also becomes predatory in this state.

An unfit vessel for Eva.

#resident evil #resident evil village #lordsona #tornrose24 #tw gore #something to do for fun and add to lore of lordsona

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cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale · 4 years

Text

Finally

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Sirius has been fighting his feelings for you from day one. When you are injured during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, it forces him to confront his feelings.

Tags: Swearing, Fluff, Arguing, Canon-Typical Violence, Older!Sirius Black, Age Gap (Reader older than Harry and legal, no exact age given), Non-Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Slight AU, Takes place during Order of the Phoenix, Sirius Black Lives, Happy Ending

Taglist: @chewymoustachio

————————————————————————

“Sirius, c’mon, can’t we at least talk?” You plead as he storms out of the library at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

“No. We’ve already discussed it.” He says firmly.

“No, we didn’t. You just ranted about how horrible a boyfriend you would be and didn’t let me speak!” You shout you were so annoyed you almost stomped your foot.

“Because it’s true! I’m no good! Not for anyone! Especially you!” He yells back before stomping into his room and slamming the door behind him. You feel the tears well up in your eyes and before you can stop them they spill down your cheeks.

For the past few months, you and Sirius have been working closely with each other, doing research in the Black family library. You had initially moved in with him to help with research, or so you thought, over time it seemed you and Remus were there more as babysitters. To keep Sirius safe from himself and his own restlessness. You fell for Sirius within the first week. And you knew he fell for you too. He had told you so. But he also said that he was an old, no good fugitive. When you had tried to argue he was innocent and that he wasn’t even forty yet he shut you down.

“What’s going on?” You hear a sleepy voice ask, your turn to find Harry standing outside of his room looking confused. It was Christmas break so Harry was staying with you and Sirius at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The Weasleys were spending their Christmas at the Burrow while helping Arthur heal.

“Sorry Harry, we didn’t mean to wake you.” You murmur an apology. You try to turn away so he doesn’t see your tears but you’re too late.

“What’s wrong Y/n?” He asks.

“Sirius and I just had a row, it’s fine.” You feel bad lying to Harry (everyone had been lately, much to your dismay), but you didn’t want him to hate you or Sirius.

“So now you’re gonna lie to me too?” He asks trying to sound like he’s teasing but you can hear the edge to his voice.

“Why don’t we go down to the kitchen and have some tea? We can talk there, Mr. Grumpy-Pants needs his beauty sleep.” You say motioning to Sirius’s door. Harry nods and the two of you walk down to the kitchen together. Harry takes a seat at the table while you make some tea.

“So what was that all about?” Harry asks when you bring the tea over and sit down across from him.

“Well when I tell you you’re probably going to think I’m gross and hate me,” you warn and Harry just shakes his head at you.

“A. I would never think that and B. I know about you and Sirius. I know you love him and he loves you.” Harry replies.

“Well, he thinks I deserve better. He thinks he’s, and I quote, ‘an old, dried up, fugitive’. And when I tried to argue he shut me down. Anytime I try to talk to him about it he shuts down and storms off.” You explain before taking a deep, shaky breath.

“I know how he gets but don’t give up on him. You’re the only person, other than maybe me or Lupin, who can get him to smile. He told me he loves you Y/n. I know he’s stubborn but don’t quit on him.” Harry pleads as he takes your hand in his.

“I’m not ever giving up on him. I’m going to out stubborn that sorry jerk if it’s the last thing I do.” You vow.

———————————————————————-

Time Skip to the Battle of the Department of Mysteries

“What?!” You shout thinking you heard wrong.

“Harry’s gone off to the Ministry to try and save me. He had another vision but this time it was planted. He thinks I’m in danger.” Sirius explains, you and Remus immediately jump into action and follow him out.

“How could he do this?!” You yell in frustration as the three of you enter the Ministry.

“Because he’s Harry,” Remus sighs.

The three of you meet up with the other members of the Order and rush off to the Department of Mysteries. When you arrive Harry and the others are battling admirably against a bunch of Death Eaters.

“Hermione watch out!” You shout as you see Dolohov sneak up on her. You fire off a Stupefy at him and he falls over, stunned.

“Get away from my godson!” You hear a familiar voice shout. Turning around you spot Sirius battling Lucius, defending Harry. You feel your heart swell at the sight of the man your love protecting the boy, you both viewed as your own.

You feel your chests seize with fear when you see Bellatrix creep up behind Sirius, ready to attack. It’s then that you notice how close Sirius and Harry are to the veil.

“Petrificus Totalus!” You shout, pointing your wand at Bellatrix successfully body binding her.

“Sectumsempra!” You hear a voice shout before you feel the sharp cut on your abdomen and another one to your leg. You let out a heart-stopping scream before you pass out from blood loss.

———————————————————————-

Time Skip to Hospital Wing

“Sirius, you have to tell her when she wakes up.” You hear Harry urging.

“Harry, Y/n deserves better than an old, worn down, convicted murderer on the run,” Sirius argues back, you mentally shake your head at that statement. Sirius was so much more than that.

“Well you may be old and worn down but you aren’t a convicted murderer anymore,” Harry replies and you can practically hear the smirk on his face.

“What?”

“They overturned your conviction after the battle. With everyone giving testimony that you were fighting with us against the Death Eaters it was the nail in the coffin. Sirius, you’re a free man.” Harry proclaims and you feel your heart soar with joy. Sirius is free! Sirius is finally free!

“She still deserves better. I couldn’t even protect her,” Sirius whispers, his voice filled with sorrow. You finally find the strength to open your eyes after hearing the pain the love of your life is in.

“Sirius,” you mutter weakly. Your voice cracks and your mouth feels like it’s as dry as a desert.

“Y/n/n,” Sirius shouts as a smile overtakes his face.

“Water,” you ask and Sirius rushes to comply. He hurriedly conjured a pitcher of water and a glass. His hands are shaking so badly that he ends up spilling half the water before finally lifting the glass to help you drink.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile. Sirius returns your smile though you can see the pain behind it and know that it’s a forced smile.

“What’s wrong?” You inquire, worried. Did someone from the Order die? How many others were hurt? And how bad?

“What’s wrong?!” He exclaims with a manic laugh, abruptly standing from his chair and proceeding to pace next to your bed. “What’s wrong? Let’s see, you nearly died from blood loss because you were too busy trying to protect me instead of defending yourself. You’ve been unconscious for nearly a week. Madame Pomfrey couldn’t figure out how to heal you until Snape, bloody Snape, showed her how and I just sat there like a damn fool unable to help you. Does that answer your question?!”

“I think I’ll give you two some time,” Harry mutters as he carefully sprints out of the Hospital Wing.

“Did anyone else get hurt? Is anyone-” you take a deep breath before finishing, “Is anyone dead?”

“No, no one is dead. Hermione was pretty roughed up, as was Neville. Everyone else had some minor injuries but they’re all fine now. You were the most severely injured.” He replies easing your fears.

“Good, that’s good.”

“Good?” He hisses incredulously, “good? Y/n, you almost died! If we hadn’t gotten you out of there when we did- you-you would-you would be-“ but he can’t bring himself to finish the thought out loud.

“Sirius, I’m ok, I’m alive. I’m here.”

“I should’ve protected you. It should’ve been me.” He says in a quiet voice.

“No, it shouldn’t have been you. You don’t deserve it any more than I do. And you were busy protecting Harry. We’re a team, we all protect each other. It’s not solely your responsibility to keep everyone safe.”

“I can’t lose anyone else. Especially you or Harry or Remus. I wish I could take every curse for you guys.” He runs his hands through his flowy hair, something you’ve noticed he does when he gets anxious.

“Hey, I know. I feel that way too. I’m pretty sure we all do. But you can’t blame yourself every time someone gets hurt. What matters is that we all made it out alive. Wounds heal.” You try to stand up but your injured leg gives out and you almost crash to the floor but Sirius catches you before you can hit it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled.

“Trying to get your arms around me,” you reply with a wink. He rolls his eyes and forces you back into bed before pulling his chair up next to you again and sitting down beside you.

“So you’re a free man now, eh?” You ask.

“It appears so. Harry just informed me that I have been entirely exonerated.”

“Well, that’s one less thing you can use against me.” You chuckle half-heartedly, Sirius shoots you a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“Every time we talked about us, you used the fact that you were on the run as a reason we couldn’t be together. Now that you’re free you can’t use that argument anymore.” You explain, there is a long silence before Sirius finally decides to break it.

“Are you sure you want this? Me? Us?” He asks in a hushed voice.

“Yes, Sirius. I’ve wanted you since that first week we met. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He replies in a soft voice.

“FINALLY!” You hear two voices shout and Sirius and you look over at the doors to see three faces peeking in. Ron and Harry are smiling until Hermione starts smacking them and berating them for interrupting.

“You guys can come in, we know you’re out there.” You chuckle and the trio enters the Hospital Wing, Hermione looking slightly guilty, while Harry and Ron both are goofily grinning.

“Sorry, we interrupted you,” Hermione apologizes, her cheeks slightly pink.

“It’s ok ‘Mione,” you assure her.

“Of course it is! They’re finally together! We’ve only been waiting for nearly a year!” Ron exclaims.

“Harry, are you ok with this?” You ask, ignoring Ron’s gleeful smile.

“Y/n, I already told you I was. I love you two and I want you both to be happy. You guys make each other happy and love each other. No one should stand in the way of that.” Harry replies with a big goofy smile on his face.

“So Harry umm-now that I’m free, well,” Sirius begins, running his hands through his hair before continuing. “Doyouwanttomoveinwithme?” The words were so quiet and smushed together you weren’t 100% sure you had heard right.

“What?” Harry asked looking dumbfounded.

“Do you want to move in with me?” Sirius asks again, his voice was still quiet but he had slowed down enough that you could understand him.

“Are you serious?” Harry asks, his jaw had dropped at Sirius’s words.

“Well I mean only if you want to…” Sirius trails off, fidgeting nervously with his hands.

“Of course I want to! When can I move in?!” Harry exclaims, an enormous smile overtaking his face.

“Well school’s out in two days and you can just come home with me and Y/n. We can collect the remainder of your things from your aunt and uncle’s later.” Sirius suggests and Harry nods quickly in agreement.

“Sweet, but umm I don’t have anything at my aunt and uncle’s place. All my stuff is here.” Harry explains, a look of mild embarrassment crossing his face. Sirius looks slightly confused, then angry (at the Durselys) and finally understanding.

“No problem, we can go on a little spree and get stuff for Grimmauld Place and whatever else you’ll need. We need to update and clean Grimmauld Place more. You can pick out whatever you want for your room, we have to make changes anyway.” Sirius explains, a gleeful expression covering his features.

“For real?” Harry asked.

“For real,” Sirius confirms with a nod.

“And Y/n and Remus will be there too?” Harry asks looking over to you.

“I hope so. Will you continue to live with me now that I no longer need a babysitter?” Sirius questions with a cocky smirk.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say you no longer need a babysitter, but yes if you’ll have me I would love to remain living with you at Grimmauld Place.” You agree Sirius lets out a loud whoop before leaning down and smashing his lips against yours.

“We’re gonna be a family?” Harry asks Sirius once the two of you break apart.

“We already are lad,” Sirius replies tossing an arm around Harry’s shoulder and giving your hand a small squeeze.

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