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bloogers-boogers · 3 days

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Anyways guess who finally got some sleep at the hotel? And also a nightmare! Yup, Adam

(Eden Adam AU)

-Cain and Bernadett-

In this Au Eve had abandoned Adam with their first born son Cain (who turned out to be Lucifer's son confirmed by the angels). Adam and Eve were seen as 'Night and Day' Adam represented humanity and hope, a bright future ahead of them. While Eve represented sin and darkness, an eventual death.

One cold night Eve had parted ways with Adam claiming she'd go fetch some of their clothing in the river while Adam looked for shelter to protect Cain who was sick from a really bad fever, he found the shelter, a cozy nice cave big enough for the three of them, he waited outside while Cain was tucked inside wrapped around the fabric of his robe, he stood for hours freezing himself in a hug waiting for the arrival of his wife. Yet she never returned. At first Adam remained hopeful she would return even after a period of him searching for her around the fields and woods; worried she may had gotten attacked or lost, yet still found nothing that could lead him to her.

The angels one day landed on earth, Adam was sparkling with joy hopeful that they knew where Eve was. Yet, they gave him a devasting news that almost broke him.

Informing him that Eve was seen leaving earth to join Lucifer in hell.

At first Adam couldn't believe it, there was no way Eve would abandoned them. She would never abandon Cain! Anger and betrayal surfacing and taking over cutting through his heart like an axe. He wasn't even given the time to process this after they also revealed Cain wasn't his and instead; was the son of the devil. Instinctively Adam hold on to Cain protectively thinking the worse of the angels, it was the only thing he had left, he wouldn’t be able to bare losing him too, but they reassured him they couldn't do anything as it wasn't in their right to do so. That Adam must pay for his sins (and for his wife's) and raising a son that wasn't his (the son of the devil) was enough of a punishment. However, they would return eventually to declare of the next solution to the now growing concern: The possible extinction of humanity. Now that mother of humanity was no longer in the picture, who would bare the children to the world? It was only Adam (male) and Cain (male, baby). So solutions needed to be discussed with, and pronto.

And oh, did they in fact, find another solution.

It took five years, five dreadful years alone raising his son Cain, alone. Through sickness and pain, starvation and fear, cold and heat; he did it all to keep his son alive. His gut told him that Cain would take his spot keeping humanity alive and he couldn't ask for anyone else better enough to take that role better from him. And somewhat he was right. The angels returned, finally giving him his new task, on what was going to happen next. He was prepared, he even made sure Cain looked presentable enough among the devine to show them the future ruler of earth.

So Bernadette was born. A beautiful baby girl with blonde curly hair and green eyes. She was made from leftover dirt from the creation of both Lilith and Adam. She was technically an 'equal' but she remained inferior to both first humans by the little amount use on her which is why she was made a baby instead of becoming Adam's third wife.

Her purpose was to be Cain's wife. As Adam had already guess, Cain would take his place as father of humanity and he was okay with that. However, his new purpose given was to raise the children until they were at the age to fend for themselves.

With time the children grew older, Cain was always by Adam's side no matter what. He was his biggest support in his most weakest moments, he was there to help him provide a safer living, he was a strong and caring boy, and Adam cherished his son more than anything the angels could've offer him. Bernadette was his biggest comfort, she'd hold him tight when things became too overwhelming, and knew the right words to cheer him up. She had a strong character, her emotions where always kept control, fearless and courageous. She kept them fed and made sure their home was always guarded while they hunt for food or other resources.

However he would not deny that he felt a bigger connection to Cain because of his mother and because he was there at his birth, he was there when Eve presented her first symptoms of pregnancy, the months of pain and struggling Eve dealt with while carrying him. He was his, blood or not.

But the angels had made it cleared that both children weren't Adam's. Adam would called them his family, angels would defined them as a group. Adam would call Cain his son, angels would call him son of Eve. Adam would claim that Bernadette was capable of doing the same tasks as Cain, angels would claim she shall not. Adam would claim that Bernadette was an equal to Cain (inferior), angels would remind him she was not (superior).

Bernadette would spend most of her time around the angels when they were present, they guided her through everything and they made it know that Adam was not her father and Cain was her soon to be husband. While with Cain they left him alone most of the time, and they let it slide for him to call Adam 'dad' as he was not much of their concern, conflicted opinions was casted on Cain when they had no choice but to resort for the second father of humanity. This difficulty was all linked being the son of the actual devil when Bernadette was not. Bernadette was their pride and joy. Cain was just… Cain.

With years passing by Bernadette became more beautiful, an absolute gem under a bunch of mud. Cain fell head over heels for her in a heartbeat. At this point the angels had separated Bernadette from Cain and Adam. Their claims were because there was still so much to prepare Bernadette before becoming mother of humanity, she would be the main leader of earth being Cain (corrupted) an inferior in their eyes and she should not indulge in sin just yet.

Both Cain and Adam protested not liking the idea of her being alone but angels stated they will guard her until she was ready to conceive a child.

Adam still didn't understand why she needed to be separated.

Another few years had past and the angels came back to Cain stating Bernadette was ready and she was now bride of Cain. Cain eager to greet Bernadette after years of not seeing her, was excited. However Adam took caution of the careful wording of the angels "your bride Bernadette, Cain" "Bernadette your husband" (having been used to the this sublime type of wordings the angels would use on them (on his son) this could be also seen as Bernadette not entirely belonging to Cain. Why didn't they use wife?)

Adam also notice that years really did went by fast, Bernadette was now a grown woman, completely changed and he wondered if she could see the changes on Cain too.

Cain had become stronger, he wasn't the same scrawny looking boy she had grown accustomed back when they were just children. He was well fitted, more than capable of protecting her and their soon growing family. He was the perfect provider and husband Bernadette deserves.

Adam was proud to say the least that he managed to do his job well on creating the perfect man and father of humanity earth needed. Now newlyweds lived separated from him.

However, thinking his duty was finally over, that was far from the case.

Bernadette showed no interest on pursuing Cain, neither was she impressed of his courting. Adam would try giving advice to his son but neither was he understanding of the matter considering he never needed to court Lilith or Eve to form some bond, they just did? Though, he knew the feeling of not being able to receive the affection from your spouse (Lilith) but there was a point Lilith and him were attracted to each other, it just didn't last long as what the angels would've wanted. Either way, his advice was pretty much useless because Bernadette made it too difficult to Cain.

She did what was told, she gave her body to Cain and was now expecting their firstborn. But eventually, Cain would come looking for him and tell him he couldn't feel the love being corresponded and that he yearn to feel her warmth. Adam sympathize with Cain, having felt this himself with Lilith.

But he really couldn't do anything.

What he didn't expect was for Bernadette to keep looking for him. Yes, she was wife to Cain and lived in separate homes but they weren't too far apart. Bernadette would give her part on the matter, complaining about Cain's lack of ability to understand her. Telling him that Cain would have temper tantrums and lash out on her. Things Cain never told Adam about but he knew his son well enough to know these were true. Cain was perfect in many ways but he had a temper, he was inpatient and impulsive. But it never went so far on causing too much damage. So maybe he should speak to him about it.

So far, Bernadette was still the sweet and caring girl he raised. Gentle, loving and soft spoken. Though, now there was more elegancy and grace in the way she spoke from being around the angels for far too long. She was also more frail looking compared to when she was with them, her rough edges had smoothened down with delicacy all of the lectures and teaching from the holy beings overshadowing her previous teachings of survival. Hopefully her skills weren't forgotten.

Oblivious to all, Adam never consider there was even the slightest possibility that there was something far deeper into the behavior of Bernadette.

Bernadette was in love with the first man: Adam.

Yes, she had fallen in love with the first man even before the angels had taken her away. She never felt the connection of father and daughter dynamic Cain would claim them as, he even once called them siblings because "equals but not entirely" thing he'd tease her for. Neither did the angels felt comfortable in that matter, they agreed with her that Adam was a whole separated thing from them. He was initially perfect, yet corrupted from sin by being tricked of his own wife. He was innocent and loyal since the very beginning. That snake and unfaithful woman ruined everything! Adam was meant to be father of humanity and by the wording of God himself.

It was only right for her to stand next to him as the third and actual deserving of the title: mother of humanity. Adam's wife. But unfortunately they were not successful in making her as such; from the lacking of material stored. So she had to be confirmed with Cain.

She also grew resentful of the constant labeling when it came to being wife of Cain. Every lesson was to be of a good mother and spouse. To serve and love her husband, all of that silly yapping she supposed they had firstly taught the first woman and the second.

Still, initially oblivious of their ulterior intentions. The angels and Bernadette were far alike when it came on holding the same opinion and wishes in regard of Adam.

The angels were hopeful that if Bernadette was separated from Adam for a certain period and then reunite them again after so long, seeing her as the full grown woman that she's now become, that he'd take a liking to her and claim her as his wife; retaking his initial purpose. But no, not even a spark on those eyes when she reached out her hand to greet him, just genuine fondness and happiness to see her alive but never more. While Bernadette was holding herself back from jumping on to the first man's arms and claim him as hers.

However, they waited long enough and the angels insisted for she to claim Cain and conceive a baby. She denied and protested she was not in love with Cain and did not want him, to calm her down and not attempt a 'Lilith' they made a agreement that benefited both; a promise that her second born would be of Adam's.

This was enough to let Bernadette pleased.

Adam was shocked when the angels had called him and Cain in for some news. Cain was still overwhelmed with many feelings after the birth of his first daughter Merida. The first man was immediately alert for literally anything; he did not trust them.

But what shocked him the most was what they told them.

"To make things quicker you must share Bernadette. The timing of your development delayed many possibilities of growth so we must now make up for the time lost," Raphael told them.

Adam wanted to screamed for the amount of bullshit that was, but he had to keep it cool these were superior beings from them, "pregnancy still last for nine months why am I needed for all of this? It only requires one man to give her seed."

"It would help prevent birth defects if the children aren't fully from the same blood," Michael simply added.

"It is not a choice Adam, it's an order," Sera spoke much stern compared from the others, " your seed is crafted by God's hands, it's a blessing and it would garantee to grant more than one child in Bernadette's womb as the intended purpose of the creator was for you and the first woman to create very quickly. While with Cain we are not certain when exactly they'd have multiple."

Adam glared at them in the first time in forever he wanted to run away and never returned, now he understood why Eve left. Fuck, why Lilith left him too..

He glanced at Cain and he was absolutely furious from jealousy.

"Doesn't Bernadette have a voice in the matter?! This is so wrong! Adam is like a father to us!"

"But he's not," Michael coldly admitted.

Cain eyes opened wide, "w-what is that supposed to mean?!"

"That he is not your father, never was and never will be. He was only there to raise and keep you alive. We made that cleared countless times. You're son of Eve and fruit from infidelity, the son of Lucifer: the devil." Raphael continued on.

The second man gasped tearing out, "I thought you guys were just messing with me about that!" Seemingly forgetting to consider angels rarely humored anything.

"we do not mess around with humans," Michael cleared out any of his doubts, something in that sentence hold a whole different meaning.

"You should feel grateful we had to spare you as it's not in our right to take you out, only God can," Gabriel added.

"And Bernadette is okay with it. We've already discussed this with her and she's fine with having to bare one of Adam's children," Sera lastly added, to finish the discussion. And started their exit; leaving both humans alone to deal with their issues.

Cain that day broke in tears, falling on his knees and accepting a truth he tried burying for so long. He would always be seen as the son of the devil.

Adam knelt beside him and wrapped his arms around in a hug to comfort him.

And it went like that, Adam and Bernadette's first son Abel and daughter Azura was born. Bernadette was happy, genuinely happy compared to her first labor. Cain couldn't help but difference her reaction from carrying his father's baby over his. Jealousy rising in his heart everytime he'd see how Abel and Azura overshadowed Merida, the way Bernadette after conceiving with her father would now try latching on him with every opportunity she'd get (to try and conceive again with him). Let's not forget about the fucking angels favoring the children of Adam and the idea of her continuing birthing more of Adam's children was far more recommended.

However for everyone's displeasure with the exception of Cain, Adam kept denying and distancing even further away from the ideals of heaven. He was left disgusted from his intimacy with Bernadette, it changed him. It was becoming worrisome as it was a sign Adam was losing his faith so they all started being more subtle and decided not to push the issue any further than they should (which made Bernadette upset.)

It took nearly five years but the angels manage on convincing Adam to conceive a second time with Bernadette. Adam's spark for living was returning in flames (but not in the way the angels would've wanted. Not a leader. It was paternal) by having to raise Abel and Azura. They were his life. He was smitten of love for them. Protect them at all costs. He did the same with Cain’s children but it was just slightly different.

Even more time went on and children from both Cain and Adam wondered around the (now) small village; starting to become a more common thing to see. Now descendants became a thing, and eventually it grew in bigger amounts that the humans started dividing themselves in different sections.

Eventually conflict arises as newfound jealousy became more intensely evident once Abel grew older, Cain felt that his father had completely replaced him (even if that was far from the case.)

Abel was attached to the hip of Adam. He was the shoulder the first man could rely on for everything. Those were all things he use to be! And Cain hated it. It was a feeling he couldn't shake off, no matter what he did, even when Abel was so nice to him and there would be times they'd get along. He had even become null over Bernadette and Adam having sex, it was far more easier to forgive than whatever hatred he holds for Abel.

He also despised how the angels would prefer his offerings over his.

It didn’t take long for things to take a turn to the worse. When Adam began feeling life wasn’t as bad as he thought it’s, all hoped shattered when Cain murdered Abel. The light in his eyes had drained out completely. No longer did he care.

The banishment of Cain broke him.

Things drifted differently and he was forced to take Bernadette as his wife. To continue repopulating.

But Adam was far disconnected to even realize how much easier it was to submit to the angels wishes.

Life was basically meaningless, only made to follow orders, submit and worship. And so he did.

Like a puppet. Lilith’s words echoing his head in ongoing whispers, ‘we’re nothing more than objects with no free will to them. While we submit they will remain in control. They would destroy, change, put us through pain and reconstruct us again, break us again, and do it again over an over until we’re nothing more than dust and broken shards. No longer fixable, no longer useful.’

Bernadette took the name of Eve. For Adam’s displeasure and the angels delight.

They were both promised heaven.

Adam and Eve were back and ‘thriving’.

And with that, Adam wakes up, sweating and anxious unable to move. His body frozen, unable to scream, cry as darkness wrapped around him like a blanket. A red brightness coming underneath the bed hovering the walls and ceiling forming a form of a smiling woman and a apple.

Before vanishing in seconds and returning to the same silent darkness of the night Adam was already use to. Able to move, Adam calmed his breathing, seeking answers far from what he could able to understand. Things he couldn’t piece together. He didn’t know what it all was, what it meant. But he sure knew, he did not like it..

He feared being alone, and he let that know to the closest person he could find comfort with.

Lucifer.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel adam #guitarduck

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incomingalbatross · 3 days

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One Piece isekai story but. different

So there's a teenage boy. Reads One Piece. Loves the battles, the characters' strength and determination, the wildness of the world and all the adventures.

One day, as sometimes happens, he gets hit by a bus and reborn into the One Piece world.

It takes some time for him to grow up enough to realize it's the One Piece world - he was reborn for real, and his brain takes a bit to catch up to his first-life memories.

His new home is a small, uneventful village in the East Blue, not brushed by the main plot, and our isekai protagonist grows up wondering what to do with this second chance.

Because on the one hand, just being born into One Piece did not automatically give him main character energy. He doesn't have a Devil Fruit and has not managed to figure out how to become a powerhouse like Zoro or Sanji. Probably the smart thing to do would be to take his out-of-the-way location as a sign and avoid anything that looks like Plot.

On the other hand... he's in One Piece. There's so much cool stuff out there. This is everything he dreamed about the first time around. This is the best chance he'll ever have to become someone like Luffy or Zoro, the kind of person he's always wanted to be. How can he not take it?

This bounces back and forth in his brain the whole time he's growing back up. Even staying home doesn't protect you from loss, he learns when he becomes an orphan - this is both an argument for and against going anywhere.

And then. One day in his teens.

Luffy lands in the village.

Our protagonist recognizes him from hundreds of chapters and hundreds more episodes, with his crew by his side - or the beginnings of his crew, at least, there's hardly any of them. This must be early in canon.

Of course he makes friends with them. How could he not? They're the Straw Hats.

And, of course, they uncover an evil plot threatening his village - and, wait, he actually vaguely remembers this arc? Though it didn't go this way in the manga, because he wasn't there...

Huh. He's getting to affect a little bit of canon. And while our protagonist is more focused on making sure nothing goes wrong for the village and people he's grown to love, part of his brain is fanboying about that. He's gotten his brush with the real Straw Hats! He's gotten an adventure with them!

And he does okay. They save the day, and he even helped, and Luffy calls him a friend and even Zoro gives him approval. The rush is kind of a lot.

It makes things click. Our protagonist finally lets one side win in his mental argument. He'll never be happy if he doesn't go out and experience this world, reborn normie or not. He packs his bags and decides to set out, saying goodbye to the Straw Hats on his way. Maybe he'll even get to see them again--

Wait.

Why are they telling him to board their ship.

Why are they asking him to join the crew.

This is way beyond a little canon divergence, and he knows he should say no, knows trying to insert himself into the main characters is insane...

But they want him. Luffy wants him to join his crew, and even a day in his company has made him feel like not just a character but a friend. Who can say no to Luffy?

...And, actually. He's already affected the plot. They got a ship out of this adventure, and he is 90% sure that didn't happen in canon. They tended to swap their ships out a lot in early arcs, so maybe it won't have a lasting effect, but...hey, maybe he won't either! Maybe this is just a little extension of his brush with greatness.

Maybe he can push his luck anyway.

So, with a laugh and a cheer, our isekai protagonist boards the Going Merry and asks - just to see - if he can be the captain.

Luffy says no, obviously, but that's okay. Usopp knows he was never supposed to be here - he's happy just to get a chance on the crew.

#one piece #rubber nonsense #this is both too long and too short but i had to get into text somehow so now it's here

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azrielbrainrot · 1 day

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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore

Word Count: 5550

Notes: This took me a bit longer to write than I anticipated but I wanted to make sure not to forget any details. Hope you enjoy!

Part 5

The sun was already shining high in the sky when you finally stepped out of the dungeon. Feyre had arrived with Cassian and Amren a few minutes earlier, ordering her mate, you and Azriel to go and get some rest while they took over for a few hours. Rhysand could only use his daemati powers for so long and the strain was starting to become visible on his face, so she likely could feel his fatigue through their mating bond. His efforts were starting to be in vain anyway, you needed to wear Norris down a lot more physically before his mental walls would start giving in.

You didn't want to leave at first, completely unwilling to take your eyes off Norris for even a second, but both you and Azriel had been forced to go take a bath and eat something, maybe even get some sleep and only come back later in the day. Logically this made perfect sense, but you'd rather stay with him until he told you everything you wanted to know. You believe them all to be more than capable of handling this but you also know Norris, if anyone could find a way to escape from the Night Court's dungeons it would be him.

Still, you knew it was going to take a lot longer than a few hours to crack Norris so you needed to keep your strength, you wouldn't be any help at all if you exhausted yourself. Apparently the same wards around your memories were also present in Norris' mind, meaning Rhysand was only able to knock him out in the forest but not read through his thoughts, the same way he wasn't able to reach your memories before. This meant he was the one in control of said wards, both his and yours. Amren was quick to explain that since they had been done with the help of a witch's tool, he had to have it with him to keep up his wards since it wasn't his own magic that was keeping them in place.

It also explains why he risked becoming your handler even though letting you know him could lead to this exact outcome. He needed to strengthen your wards every once in a while to make sure no memory slipped through them. Unfortunately, even without his checkups the wards were strong enough that simply time wouldn't give your memories back in full, at best only letting you see some fragments. There was also no way of knowing what they could do to your mind when left unattended so your only option was to keep pushing him until he told you everything you needed to know.

The tool he used couldn't be far, he either had it on his person or hid it somewhere close before meeting you in the forest. You've searched through his belongings more than once, as did everyone present in the cell, including Azriel's shadows, but came up empty. He likely had a powerful glamour cast on it, one you had to make him break. Getting your hands on that tool meant you could break both the wards around his mind, which would grant Rhysand access to any and every piece of information he wanted, and the wards keeping your memories hidden inside you. One simple object could set you free.

Azriel winnowed you to the middle of the mountains surrounding Velaris, right behind the House of Wind, making sure no one in the city could see your bodies drenched in blood but unable to winnow you straight home. Having a house protected by wards that didn't allow for any winnowing, even by its inhabitants, was really good in theory, you've never seen a safer place really, but in practice having to fly up every time was more than annoying, especially when you don't have wings of your own.

The air was strangely awkward around the two of you since you hadn't spoken a word to each other after the short argument in the forest. Most of your annoyance had worn off at this point, got redirected at your smug handler chained up in the dungeon, but you still wanted him to be the one to come to you and explain himself. His attitude earlier had seemed completely different from everything you'd experienced until then, you know there's a reason for it but you're too prideful to ask him about it.

The only plausible reason you could think of is that he's been using you to get to an assassin with a higher up position in the guild, but something told you immediately that wasn't the case, it seems like a part of you balked at the thought that he'd betray you like this. Even putting your annoying phantom feelings aside, it didn't make sense considering the High Lord has followed his word on letting you help in interrogating Norris. Your mind was fresh out of ideas, and much too tired to analyze that small argument. He'll tell you what happened eventually, and if he doesn't… Well, then it's a good thing you didn't get your hopes up even more.

“I'll fly you up to the House,” his voice was scratchy from not being used in so long, making it deeper as he almost whispered beside you, not wanting to disturb the quietness in the mountain. Azriel had done most of the cutting and breaking but he hadn't even asked Norris any questions, content in letting you and Rhysand take over the interrogation while he carved out Norris' skin. You can't be sure if it was because of your fight or just the grueling last few hours but he didn't seem to be in the best mood anyway.

You nod up at him, simply walking closer and letting him pick you up into his warm embrace, strong hands careful as they handle your body. You've only flown once - from what you can remember at least, you can't imagine a version of yourself who wouldn't ask her husband to take her flying regularly if he had wings - and, given the circumstances, you didn't really have the chance to stop and truly enjoy the moment. It would be the same now, even worse given the fact that you'd rather not deal with the shadowsinger, but the breeze hitting against your tired body sounded heavenly, and so did the big bathtub and soft mattress waiting for you up in your room. There was also no energy left in your body to even try to argue with him, if there was you would have been using it on your handler.

His body relaxes slightly when you simply slip your arms around his neck, his wings stretching and flapping a couple of times as he got ready to take flight. He looked like he was expecting you to refuse, as if there was any other way to the House besides flying and he wasn't the only Illyrian here.

The actual flight doesn't take long, within a few moments Azriel is gently setting you down back on your feet at the top of the stairs, hands lingering on your body as if moving on their own, a habit he can't quite break himself out of. You meet his eyes, briefly wondering if you should say something, debating if you have enough patience in yourself to extend a small olive branch to the male who is covered in the blood of your enemy.

He beats you to it, looking down before speaking as if he couldn't hold your gaze for top long - yet another way he's acting out of character. “You're free to do what you want. I'll meet you in your room and fly you back to the dungeon when it's time. I won't bother you before that.” The professional, detached tone in his voice makes your annoyance want to rise up but you swallow it down, realizing how tired you really were as soon as you had stepped foot inside the house.

“Alright,” you tell him before turning around and walking straight to your room, never looking back to see his reaction or the way regret flashes in his eyes as he watches your every step away from him.

Azriel stayed true to his word, only coming to check in on you right before it was time to return. You can't even be sure if he stayed in his room the whole time, if he truly spent these few hours resting as he was ordered since there was no sound coming from his room or around the house at all. Curiosity had gotten the best of you a couple of hours ago, when you woke up from your nap feeling strangely alone, like a piece of you was begging to go find him. This feeling was clutching at your heart for long enough that you actually considered going to find Azriel, but held on since you didn't fully know your way around the house and you had no idea where he could be. You didn't really know what to say either.

Luckily it wasn't long until you heard his footsteps getting closer to your room before a soft knock sounded at the door. He always does this, makes sure to let himself be heard before knocking. Sitting up at the edge of the mattress, you call out to him, wondering if he'll tell you anything now or simply fly you back to the cells.

As soon as his form comes into view you can tell he hasn't slept much if anything at all, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He's at least taken a bath, the sullied leathers were now replaced with new ones, the stench of blood not clinging to him anymore. You're wearing some yourself, your old ones as you've been told. Your clothes were ruined and putting them back on would defeat the purpose of the bath you took earlier, but it feels weird to wear a version of what you always see Azriel and his family in. He takes notice of this as well, hazel eyes raking over your form, lingering around your waist long enough for you to start feeling self conscious, standing up and taking a step closer to him almost involuntarily.

“Is anything wrong? I thought you left them for me to wear.” Since he had given you the leathers along with your old belongings you had assumed you were allowed to wear them, but, at this point, these clothes were more his than yours. Maybe he was scared you'd ruin them and he'd lose his memories of you.

“No, that's not it. They're yours,” he assures quickly, eyes widening slightly before a conflicted expression takes over his face. “The buckles are done wrong,” his observation makes you look down at yourself, there were more straps and buckles than necessary for any piece of garment and you'd taken a bit longer to figure it out than you cared to admit, apparently you should have taken even longer.

Your fingers reach for the straps around your waist, tugging at the leather before he continues, “I can help you with them. They can be hard to put on if you're not used to it.” When you look up from the confusing clothes and your eyes move to meet his, you find him watching your hands hesitantly, his own flexing at his sides. You end up agreeing without even thinking it through, something you almost regret when he walks closer to you and suddenly all you can see and smell is Azriel.

He looks into your eyes before reaching out to the buckles around your waist slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, almost expecting you to. You drop your hands at your sides awkwardly, not knowing what to do with them or yourself when he starts working on your leathers. Expert fingers undo the buckle before pulling on the straps, unexpectedly tightening your armor in the process which pulls a startled gasp out of you. His hands move to grab your waist, surprised by your reaction. Wide hazel eyes meet yours at the sound, a heat spreading within them the longer he holds your gaze, hands frozen around your waist.

All your senses are overwhelmed with him so close, staring down at you like that. The only thing you can think of is the kiss you shared a few nights ago, your entire body begging to repeat the action as he looks down at you with the same passionate look he had worn then. He seems to be reminded of the same, perhaps of similar moments from your previous life, even more scandalous ones surely.

Thankfully, some of your common sense finds you before you could do something stupid like pull him down to you and taste him again, the thought making you look away from him and clear your throat, hoping he breaks from the spell and lets you pretend it didn't happen. This prompts him to keep buckling the leathers, with an urgency he didn't have before, and you look down with him, following his movements even though your mind isn't actually registering any of them as you try to calm your breathing and not think of the way his hands feel around your waist. You'll likely need his help fastening everything tomorrow as well.

“These are meant to cross so the leathers are molded to your body and there are no openings,” he tries to explain as he finishes and moves back, but you can tell he's as affected by your little moment as you were.

You nod at him, “There were a lot of straps, I wasn't sure which ones belonged where. Some of them don't even look like they have a purpose,” you finish as you play with the straps around your wrists, the ones you really couldn't figure out.

“Those are for your gloves,” he explains, a somewhat endeared look crossing his face. “I didn't think you'd need them but you can put them on. Though I'm not sure how they will behave with your powers now.”

“Did I not have these powers before?” You hadn't thought of the possibility but if the spell could erase your memories maybe Norris could have found a way to give or take powers. Just the thought of it brings a chill down your spine.

“You did, but you've gotten a lot stronger,” there was a hint of pride in his words, though the somber meaning hung between you. No matter how hard you practiced and how well they could have trained you here, the results wouldn't be as fast or maybe as clean as the ones resulting from the guild's harsh training. The guild had no problem pushing you past your limits, you either adapted and got stronger or you'd die and be replaced. You suppose you never had to use your powers to torture people before either.

“When this all ends we could spar together,” you sound hesitant even to your own ears, “Maybe I'm even stronger than you by now.” You haven't talked about what will happen after all of this, you can't know for sure what you'll want to do when you recover your memories. You also keenly aware you had just been telling yourself you wouldn't make it easy on him, but ended up seconds away from kissing him and inviting him to spar with you as soon as you saw him.

“I'd like that,” he nods, a reddish tint rushing to his ears. He makes it unbearably hard to even remember why you were upset with him in the first place. It takes everything in you not to lean into his genuineness and forget it ever happened. You bite your lip and give him a small nod of your own, “Are you ready then? We should go.”

“I wanted to talk to you before we left,” his voice takes on a serious tone, regret peeking through every word.

“Maybe this is not the right time. They're probably waiting for us,” you offered, not really sure how to go about having this conversation after what had just happened, even if the curiosity was killing you. It was clear you couldn't keep a level head when it came to Azriel.

“No, I can't…” he cuts himself off, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest as if he’s been pushing it down for a long time. He looks scared somehow, his wings pulling in tighter to his body and his shadows crawling up his shoulders as if comforting, or even encouraging him. You let him find his composure, find the right words to explain the situation. This feels bigger than a silly argument when adrenaline was pumping through both your veins and that gnawing feeling in your chest comes back, getting stronger with every breath, making you think this might be something he's carried on from the time you were still married.

Azriel opens his eyes after a few moments, the emotions swirling in them enough to make you breathless, and reaches his hand out to yours, waiting for you to accept it and then squeezing it tight as if he needs the reminder that you're real.

“I need you to know I wasn't trying to keep any secrets from you or order you around as you said,” he starts lowly, shiny hazel eyes alternating between watching your hands clasped together and staring deep into your eyes, “We've had this conversation many times before. I know you don't remember but I need you to know I never meant to make you think I want to have any sort of power over you.” He brings your hand up to his chest then, spreading your palm right over his beating heart as he continues, eyes never straying from yours, “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you want to be there when Norris tells you everything. I wasn't trying to keep you away from the dungeon because I didn't think you could handle it.”

“Then why?” Your voice is but a whisper, not wanting to disturb the vulnerable moment.

“I never let you see me down there before, know the monster I have to become. You tried, many times, but I never allowed it. I've always been too afraid of what your reaction would be,” he presses his hand down on yours a little harder as his heart beat picks up, “It would kill me if you were ever scared of me, if you couldn't love me anymore after learning who I am. I was so scared of losing you. Scared that you would ever look at me with fear in your eyes instead of love.”

You let your gaze fall to the way he presses his and your hand to his chest, letting his heartbeat lead yours. It takes a moment for you to process his admission. From what he told you before you thought you had been open with each other throughout your marriage, but it seems there were parts of him he kept hidden even from you, especially from you.

Moments like these always leave you in a weird position. You can't speak for the old version of you, as much as you want to believe that you wouldn't leave him, would never feel scared of him, when your love for him transcended your memories as if it was written down into your bones, the truth is you don't remember her at all. Maybe she would have been scared, maybe his worries hadn't been completely unwarranted then. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You turn your hand around, your palm no longer pressed against his chest in favor of holding onto his hand, your other hand joining in as you massage the rough skin and let them fall between you two, needing something familiar to ground yourself while you think of what to say. You twist his wedding ring around his finger once, closing your eyes at the tremble that runs through him at the motion, the way even his wings droop to the floor. The fact that he lets you touch him like this makes things so much harder sometimes.

“I've seen a lot of monsters. You're not one of them, Azriel. Far from it,” you start carefully, “and… I'm not sure how I was like before, if seeing you down there would have really been too much for me to handle but if I truly loved you like I think I did, then I know it wouldn't have mattered. There's nothing about you I see as unlovable.”

“Loved,” a broken mumble between you, not a question. This makes you look up at him. You want to deny it, tell him you still love him, but you can't make sense of the feelings inside you, can't say for sure what will happen to them when you regain your memories. Most of all, you don't want to hurt him, give him hope when he already lost so much, when you already hurt him so much.

You drop his hand, taking a small step back. “I'm not the same person you used to know, and recovering my memories might not bring her back either. Most of what's left is just my body.”

“It doesn't matter,” he says so matter-of-factly it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Azriel-”

“No,” he brings both of his hands to hold onto your face gently, giving you no option but to look into his eyes, “I love you. That didn't change when you died or over the century that followed, when I didn't think I would ever see you again. It didn't change when I saw you in the townhouse or even when you stabbed me. And it won't change whether you get your memories back or not, if you choose to stay or not.”

“I don't love you,” the words stumble out desperately, tears gathering in your eyes, “I don't even remember you, Azriel.”

“That doesn't change it either,” he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek softly. You know he means it then, know there's no way to change his mind even if for his own good. You can only pray to the Mother that your memories don't give you any unpleasant surprises. You're trying so hard to keep his heart safe, why must he keep offering to rip it out of his chest for you?

His expression changes abruptly as you're lost in thought and soon after you feel a presence in your mind before Rhysand's voice comes through. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Azriel's hands drop from your face then, a scowl overcoming his features. You can only imagine the words he's throwing at his brother in his mind, but Rhysand's voice returns, noticeably more amused, Our break is over. It's time to meet them back at the dungeon. I take it you'll fly our captive back? The answering growl that comes from the shadowsinger actually makes you hide a chuckle behind your hand. His gaze softening once again when he notices the gesture.

Despite the timing and the way he insisted on addressing you as “captive” to rile Azriel up, you could actually thank Rhysand for breaking you away from the moment. He's right, you've rested more than enough and it's now time to go back and finish what you started. You only have the luxury of dealing with your marriage after Norris is gone and you could actually remember your husband.

The flight to the dungeon is a lot easier this time as your prior annoyance was replaced with strangely welcomed awkwardness and a tinge of bashfulness. As much as you tried to deny it, you can't pretend Azriel's admission hadn't made your heart want to leap out of your chest. You don't think anyone could have remained impartial to such a confession, especially coming from a male like Azriel, but as soon as you step into the dungeon, you feel yourself morph back into the cold assassin. You could even feel Azriel's mask fall over his face as well, ready to resume what you'd started before.

This same routine is repeated for a few days, slowly but surely wearing the formidable assassin down. It wouldn't be long until Rhysand or Feyre could read through his mind completely even if he didn't willingly tell you anything. This sentiment was felt among all of you, it's like you could all taste how close he was to breaking.

You came back from one of your mandatory breaks to see Cassian leaning by the cell door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at your prisoner as Amren stood in the middle of the cell covered in blood, a wicked grin on her face as Norris looked the most unsettled you'd ever seen him. She was told to hold back in the first days but since Norris insists on resisting, Rhysand had allowed her to toy with him. You truly hope you never cross her, just the thought of the things she could do makes every hair on your body stand.

Everyone stays in the room this time, knowing it's only a matter of time. Azriel takes over once more, every slash of his knife meant to give Norris unimaginable pain, completely focused on making the short remaining of his life as miserable as he can.

The difference between the male who had confessed his undying love to you, held your hand as if you were the most precious thing in this world, and the one expertly carving out your former handler's body was almost unbelievable. Azriel's face showed nothing but anger, and even then you knew it wasn't even a quarter of the seething fury burning inside of him. This wasn't your doting husband, this was the Spymaster.

You feel Rhysand's dramatic show of power before you see him walk into the cell, hands in pockets as if he was walking into his kitchen instead of a seedy dungeon reeking of blood and sweat. He passes by you and joins Azriel in tormenting Norris, letting sharp black talons run across the mental walls he's been so desperate to maintain. The smirk on his mate's face, who leans against the table calmly by your side, tells you they might even be teaming up on him.

Fatigue was starting to eat away at everyone the longer you spent inside the windowless cell, but, as Norris smirks lessened and his bared teeth stopped being enough to hide the obvious grunts of pain, his skin paling considerably as his blood pooled at his feet, it was clear that you were on the right track, only needed to keep pushing.

Your handler had started answering more questions too, if only to keep you distracted and away from any blades long enough. It's hard to believe that the male you've been frightened of for a century is the same one chained in front of you. If it weren't for the stubbornness and the pride he's managed to keep somehow, you wouldn't have believed it at all.

“This whole mission was a gamble. We couldn't know for sure if they'd written you off their wards even if they thought you were dead. When you walked in so easily I thought it would be a piece of cake from there. Seems I was wrong.” You had guessed as much. At the time, being sent to an unknown place on such short notice seemed strange and sloppy for how usually crafted the guild's plans were, but knowing what you do now, it makes sense. Not only were you written into the wards as he said, but if it hadn't been for the strange nostalgic feelings inside you, Azriel would have let you escape, you would have even killed him to do so.

“The spell should have sealed your memories and feelings tight,” Norris continues as if sensing your thoughts, “I'm not sure what is trying so hard to claw its way out from behind those walls.” He tilts his head to the side and pauses as if he found the answer and that self-assured smirk reappears on his lips. The sight makes your skin crawl, your powers reacting with you and sending an icy chill into the room. Temperature dropping as his smirk only widens even more and Azriel looks at you with a worried expression before catching himself. “Maybe I just messed up the spell,” he dismisses.

“What do you mean?”

“It is a tricky spell,” he shrugs nonchalantly, knowing that's not what you asked. Azriel moves before you, Truth Teller slashing across his skin for the millionth time, but Norris seems intent on keeping at least this last piece of information to himself. There's more to this, you know there is, but the interrogation moves on to matters of the guild. Rhysand is still worried that they will come for you now that you've deserted, and that they will bring harm to his beloved court.

Within the next few hours, Norris' healing stops being able to keep up with his injuries, even his voice losing strength. It seems like he was focusing the remaining of his energy on keeping his mental walls safe, but it's not long until you see Rhysand's smirk grow, a satisfied wicked thing on his face.

You watch as Norris' head goes limp, unfocused eyes dropping to the ground as the High Lord searches through his mind, probably making it as unpleasant as he possibly can. Your heart starts beating faster in your chest, anxiety building up at the thought that this could have all been for nothing, that Norris might not have the answer after all. You feel a hand on your shoulder but don't even have the mind to look back and check who is trying to comfort you.

When he finally steps back, he simply gives you a nod and a breath of relief escapes you as you stare back into Norris' eyes. You watch Azriel and Rhysand share a look in the corner of your eye, never daring to look away from Norris' defeated face. Within moments everyone starts clearing out of the cell in silence, leaving you and your shadowsinger standing over the prisoner.

It's only when Azriel's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it to get your attention that you look away. His eyes don't give away much and he doesn't say the words, but as he places Truth Teller in the palm of your hand, you know exactly what he means. He nods at you once and drops your hand, taking a step back and giving you space.

You look down at the dagger in your hands, the same one you had held to wound the male who now handed it to you, the one you'll now use to set yourself free. Describing the feeling running through your body is impossible, you always thought you'd die in the guild, as an assassin. Never even dared to think you could be more, never thought it would be possible to get out alive and find a life for yourself. You thought you'd be scared at the prospect but you can only feel excitement and relief.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you walk to Norris and pull on his hair to lift your face to his, so he can see all the hate and anger in your gaze before you stab the knife through his right eye slowly, making sure to get it through his brain, deep enough that no amount of healing or any trick he might have had up his sleeve would be able to save him, and twisting it around. You don't move for a few moments, listening for his heartbeat and paying attention to the blood seeping out of the wound. It's only when you're sure he's dead, that his heart is completely quiet and enough blood has poured out, that you pull the knife out with a squelching sound, flicking it down to get rid of most of the blood and any pieces of flesh stuck to it.

You hesitate for a moment before turning back, meeting Azriel's eyes. As much as you'd told him there was no need for him to worry of your opinion of him changing after witnessing what he did to Norris, of ever being afraid of him, you had hypocritically been scared of letting him see you like this, of seeing the cold blooded killer you had become, so far detached from the wife in his memories.

All your worries are proven baseless however. The only thing you can distinguish in his eyes is relief, at having the answer to getting your memories back and having the person responsible for your pain killed. You can't help the smile growing on your face, not caring for how it must look against the blood covering most of your body, and wrap your arms around Azriel's neck, pulling him down into a hug as a sigh of relief escapes you, tears rising to your eyes and flowing down your cheeks. His arms come around you immediately, tightening his grip on you and burying his face in your neck, tears of his own wetting your skin.

You're finally free.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel angst

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emeraldborealis · 2 days

Text

Comfort

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN!reader

TW//CW: Hurt/comfort, mention of nightmares, established relationship, soft Simon, no use of y/n.

Words: 1,593

You woke with a start, a clawing tingling sensation building under your skin, a spike in your breathing. Your heart racing like a derby horse, let loose with a jolt of adrenaline. Refusing to slow until falling or passing an imaginary finish line. There would never be an end to this.

It was dark in the room, fear and panic growing even after the nightmare had ended, the memory of what it was about was quickly fading, the fear was not.

It had all felt so real, so vivid, the touches and pain still felt like they were there, you could almost feel them searing under your skin. Wanting to burst out, become something real, something that could hurt you more than just in your mind.

"You alright, love?" The soft voice of Simon beside you helped calm your racing heart, taking a deep breath you sighed, realizing you'd woken him up with your nightmare, turning to face him you found him already looking at you, his face hard to make out in the dark, but his eyes were on you.

"I'm alright." Your voice was a little weak when you spoke. Reaching out to him in your nearly blacked out room, his familiar shape was visible to you only by the soft moonglow from a crack in the curtains. He was here, you were alright. You'd be alright. Simon was here. He wasn't going to let anything happen to you.

When your hand connected with the worn fabric of his sleep shirt he pulled you closer, holding you comfortably to him. "Another nightmare?" Gently he cradled your head in his hand, bringing it to rest under his chin, you felt his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath.

You'll be okay. You'll be alright.

"Yeah." Closing your eyes you pressed further into him, breathing him in, drinking down his natural scent, it was soothing. Simon was a man you could trust, one who would never hurt you. He was a man who would part oceans of people for you, a man who would scare away the fear constantly bubbling inside of you without complaint. "How'd you know?"

"The shift in your breathin' woke me up." Gently his fingers started massaging into the nape of your neck, keeping you close and comfortable. He was an enigma to you, someone so hurt yet still so gentle. Not with everyone, but with you he was.

"You sleep that light?" You knew he was a light sleeper, but you didn't know it was to that extreme. A pebble of guilt began to build inside of you. He must never sleep when he sleeps with you.

"Unfortunately." His hand traveled down your neck, trailing up and down your spine, his fingers pressing firm enough to feel the notches of each vertebra as he went. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I don't remember most of it, just the general feeling it gave me. It was a bad one." You moved more into him, you wanted to cry, wanted to scream. You were so sick and tired of these nightmares, never ending, never relenting. There was something fundamentally wrong with you, there must be, for rest to be more tiring than not sleeping at all.

You hadn't been through what Simon's been through, haven't seen the same brand of hell he has. You didn't have the right to complain to him, not when he's objectively been through worse. You weren't loved right, you saw things, went through things, but those weren't comparable to him.

"That's alright." He brought you ever closer, letting you move on top of him. If you could fall and sink into him you would in a heartbeat. Settle inside his bones, let them be a protective cage, keep everything else away from you. "So long as you don't want to talk about it because you think my nightmares are worse or some shite like that."

He's chastised you more times than you can count about not wanting to talk to him about your problems, told you just because things could be worse doesn't mean they're not hard.

"No, well, yes yours are probably worse. But I really don't remember this one, still wouldn't want to talk about it if I did. I just like to try and forget them." Laying your head over his heart you let his steady heartbeat stabilize you, gravity taking the few tears from your eyes and making them fall onto the fabric of his shirt.

Your hand laid on the other side of his chest, fingers rubbing small circles, your pointer and thumb pinching his shirt. You hated this, hated when you'd wake him up with your nightmares, hated having them at all. Simon needed someone better than you, someone who wasn't damaged, someone who wasn't just as scared as he was to go to sleep at night.

"I understand." Simon laid his hand over yours on his chest, holding it gently. "Just because the water could be deeper doesn't mean you can't be drownin' where you are. Trauma isn't a competition, I know you've been made to feel it is your whole life because people want to silence you. But talk to me, I'm 'ere for you, darlin'."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just hard, I'm trying." Turning your head you rested your chin on him, looking up at his face, his beautiful face. The first time you saw it you couldn't even speak, it was the face of the man you love. There was nothing else you needed to say about it. There was nothing else anyone needed to say about it. If people didn't see it for the beauty you did, then that was their loss. "They just- never stop."

"I know. I know. I understand." The pad of his thumb gently swiped under your eye, a frown coming to his face when he felt it was wet with tears.

Scooting up his body you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his. "Don't frown, they're just dreams. Hurts for a while, but I'll be alright, you're here. I'm okay. I'm okay." You repeated it just as much for yourself as him.

"I wish you could sleep peacefully through the night, I wish you didn't have bags under your eyes from exhaustion. I wish I could keep the nightmares at bay. I wish you wouldn't have to understand this pain like I do." His hands moved to rest on your back, rubbing up and down.

"Life is pain, isn't it? Everyday we can go through hell, and we just keep living, just keep going. Isn't that persistence what life is? What makes us human?" Gently you moved your fingers over his face, trailing the bridge of his nose and shape of his eyebrows. "My dreams are not something that are allowed to define me, that hell is not going to be who I am. But I'd be alright if when all was said and done I was known for loving you."

"Known for lovin' me? It is a 'eavy task." Simon chuckled, kissing your nose.

"That's not what I was saying and you know it." Pushing on his chest you sat up, half straddling him. "And it's not a 'task', loving you comes as naturally as breathing, so don't give me that crock of shit."

"Alright, I stand corrected." His hand moved to rest comfortably on your hip, softly squeezing it. "I'd like to be known for lovin' you, above all else. I'd like for my time spent with you to be the thing my life is associated with."

"It's a 'heavy task'." You mocked his words, mimicking his voice in an obnoxious manner.

"Alright enough of that." Sitting up Simon wrapped his arms around you, falling backwards he pulled you back down to lay with him, ignoring your noise of surprise he kept a tight hold on you, preventing you from being able to move. "You're perfect." The playfulness was gone, replaced with a soft tenderness.

"But I wish I was flawless, I wish I knew what it was like to live a life without this burden. I wish I could just be like everyone else. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, I don't know what's causing these dreams. I just want them to go away." Your voice wavered as a lump formed in your throat, a burning coal. Sniffing you tried to hold back your emotions.

"We'll get you to the point you can sleep through the night without bad dreams soon, I promise. I'll find a way to turn those restless dreams into somethin' peaceful. Soon you'll feel fine, no more eyebags, no more nightmares." It wasn't something he could guarantee, but the conviction in his voice silenced all of the doubts in your mind.

"You make things better, when I wake up to you I remember I'm alright. I don't know what I'd do without you." Taking a deep breath you relaxed yourself, settling yourself so you can start trying to go back to sleep.

"I'll always be 'ere, love. Get some rest. I'm 'ere." The feeling of him kissing your temple furthered you into calming down. Closing your eyes you nuzzled into him.

"Let's have something good for breakfast, but you make it, and you clean it up, and I just partake." You mumbled sleepily into him.

"Fuckin' 'ell you're a twerp. We'll see." His comfort was all surrounding, holding you safely, it kept you warm and calm. He was all you needed, all you wanted. Waking up to him would always be the reason for you to fall asleep again.

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heliosthegriffin · 2 days

Text

Jaune strolled down the hallway when a shadowy mass crashed into him, holding him against the wall.

"Ow." His eyes widened looking down the iron-sights of a pistol from the barrel-side backwards into a pair of golden eyes. Blake stood there, vibrating in place, arm trembling as she held Jaune up one-armed, though it seemed not for very much longer.

They locked eyes for a minute, then Jaune opened his mouth. "Hello, this is Jaune Arc, please put him down as you're leaving your message, have a nice day."

He quickly got a better look down those iron-sights, quickly becoming more concerned due to Blake's iron-sights being a sword. "Shut your mouth."

"Alright." Jaune quickly zipped it, as he was dealing with someone crazy enough to use a sword, tip of which was facing them, as iron-sights, she was capable of anything as far as he knew.

She looked at him, face sweating, eyes dilated, and worse of all, she was smiling. "Know what you did it."

Jaune looked down at her, easy since she was lifting him against the wall and him being several heads taller than her. "Which was what?"

She was trembling, mouth fighting to not form a smile, eyes wide and bright. "Look at you, walking around not a care in the world, that junk in the trunk should be making you ride so low that you spark up the road behind you, yet you got something under the hood that's keeping you level," She licks her lips. "And, well you know what they say about curiosity and that cat."

Up against the wall, barrel against his cheek, Jaune stares down at the mad woman. "Blake, I don't own a car."

"Oh, don't I know it, yet you got a whole cake truck, don't you. Makes me wonder what you're doing with all that beef & sausage, you trying to look like a fully meal?"

"I haven't even had breakfast yet."

"Doesn't stop you from looking like you'd filling me up."

Jaune squirms a bit, noticing that Blake's arm was on the verge of letting go, she flinches back, letting go, withdrawing the weapon as well. "I"m going now," He looks at her, slowly backing away. "Just stay there, and do not pursue."

Blake stiffens up. "You can walk away from me, Jaune, but you can't walk away from the truth! Deny it all you want, you look like a full course meal, and I'm starving!" She lurches forward, hands reaching for him.

Jaune pulls out a can of tuna, tears the lid off with his raw strength, and hands it to her. "Here, now you can leave me in peace."

Blake stares at him, alternating between him and the tuna, then sighs, taking the tuna. "This dense-ass soon to be mother-fucker," She grabs the tuna. "If I wasn't actually hungry, damn." When she looks up, Jaune was already turning the corner. "Hate to see him go, love to watch him leave... Did I have something to warn him about?"

Jaune just as he was rounding the corner, was pressed against the wall, again, and he looked down at Yang, which wasn't hard as she was leaning holding him at a lower angle. Strangely though, she was wearing a police uniform. "You got a license for all that cake, sir?"

"Actually, I do," He holds out to her a permit, showing that he was in fact, Kingdom certified baker. Yang took it, stared at it, then tore it apart.

"Not anymore."

#RWBY shitpost #Jaune Arc #Blake Belladona #Yang Xiao Long

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renspacesz · 3 days

Text

WARNING: EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY, I do not condone.

Guys did you know there was a trans teen who planned to shoot up his school during the day of columbine's anniversary. The media said this person was columbine obsessed, and that got me thinking he would've had a tumblr account somewhere. I think all tcc followers have a tumblr account to find a place where they could talk to people about the crimes and the murderers. Also why wasn't this mentioned here, this news was everywhere and it came up on my youtube recommendation as well.

Other than that, there was also another school shooting happened just yesterday in Texas. Maybe eric and dylan was right about this.. the day of their attack carried a legacy, 25 years from now on. Gun violence without columbine involved is common, but columbine nearly doubled the effect of it leaving many dead just because the shooters wanted to be edgy. I know that's not the only case, people like them already had mental issues from the start, and the lean onto this case to find something to relate to, but sometimes things can get excessive quick and becomes a habit, so you get more desensitized and used to things like this. Then push them to the edge one more time, when they finally snaps, and write their manifesto. I'd say school shooters are a mix of suicidal-ness with some homicide urges. I don't think anyone would want to kill themselves or to face consequences if they only wanted to kill others. Suicide from the start and maybe their reasons came from hatred of humans (misanthropy), nihilism, detachment, depression, and it disturbs the mind.

People always say they don't know what happened to these guy and what makes them do such things. Well it's complicated and there's no simple answer, they all got their own reasons and motives. No simple answer also means no simple solution, it will take a while for people to get educated on such heavy and complex topic. It takes deep cognitive skills & empathy to understand the minds of others. No medication or therapy can truly fix homicidal problems, although they may reduce the urges.

I believe homicidal urges in human, is only nature. Some has better control over their anger and rage, which reduces the possibility of it turning into homicidal urges/thoughts. Depends on quality of life, when people are frustrated, have declining mental health, personality disorders, cognitive impairment, social-problems, etc, it can lead to troubles, and a small percentage accounts for killing people. You can't really stop them, sometimes they look normal on the outside, which is called masking. But if theres anything that tells you "there might be something wrong about this person", delving deeper into it could lead you to a useful conclusion.

#dylan columbine #eric and dylan #eric columbine #rebandvodka #tcc columbine #tcc fandom #tcc tumblr #columbine 1999 #tccblr #columbine massacre

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angelsanarchy · 1 day

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What It Cost: Samuel Lafferty x Y/N Mini Series PRT 02

Tagging: @ithinkitstimetonap @kappasbbgirl @chainsawgvtsfvck @luzclarita57 @miniisunshine @madamemaximoff06 @romanroyapoligist @thirtyratsinasuit @ethical-cain-vinnel @blueberrypancakesworld @dumbbitchdelrey @loljustignoreth4t @tvgirlsbluehair @s0ulfulll @dukesofsp00ks @mommymilkers0526 @vomiting-blood @lustkillers @s-0lar @hisemoslut @roryculkinsgf @ultrakissed @tempt-ress

Samuel was surprised when he heard they were baptizing Y/n into their church. She was apparently had already been baptized but she was urged into getting re-baptized so she could truly be apart of their family. This was a very special event that he would typically really enjoy but the uniform that they had to wear was always a pain to have to pull out. Having so many children and wearing a white suit was dangerous.

"Samuel, be sure to pull that hair back son." His father reminded him as they entered the church. He walked towards the bathroom and noticed Y/n trying to take a peak out of the curtains to see just how many people were already settled into the church pews. Samuel snuck up behind her and she jumped when he put his hands on her sides.

"Samuel! You scared the life out of me!" Y/n she gripped her chest and he smirked. She was dressed in the traditional white gown, not a single piece of makeup on her face, she looked angelic to him in this moment.

"You seem nervous. You've done this before right? It's not that big of a deal." Samuel could tell she was anxious by how she rang her hands out.

"Yes but this is different. It feels...different." She insisted. Samuel pushed the door closed behind himself so that it was just the two of them in the bathroom now.

"You're right. This is different but you aren't alone. You're joining this family we have here and we will never let you feel an ounce of fear ever again." Samuel rubbed her arms watching her take deep, calming breaths. He leaned his head against the side of her temple and she closed her eyes.

"You certainly have a way of reassuring someone." She smiled.

"You're going to be just fine Y/n. Hopefully you remembered to leave the red bra and panties at home today." He teased making her open her eyes.

"I did actually." She turned her head almost daring him to check. Samuel ran his hands down her the front of her gown and felt no resistance. His eyebrow went up slightly as he let his hand root to the bottom of her gown just to feel that she wasn't wearing anything beneath it. He felt his cock stiffen just touching her bare skin and she smirked.

"You do realize the moment that water cleanses you, the entirety of the church will be able to see you in all your glory." Samuel's fingers grazed her cunt and could feel the slickness between her folds.

"Naked in rebirth is how it should be." Y/n teased. Samuel couldn't help but push his fingers inside of her. She gasped gripping his wrist and throwing her head back.

"What sinful things have you been thinking about for you to be this wet?" Samuel pumped his fingers inside of her and used his thumb on her clit as she bucked her hips into his palm.

"I-I can't...oh Samuel." She turned her head to face him and he smiled watching her trying to contain her moans to an acceptable level as she rode his hand.

"Be a good girl and stay quiet." Samuel leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck as she whimpered. When she started cumming, he could feel her quaking around his fingers and he couldn't help but feel the front of his pants becoming damp with precum wishing his cock was buried deep inside of her cunt to feel the squeeze of her orgasm. She leaned forward and bit her hand to keep from moaning out loud before crumbling against the sink. Samuel removed his finger slowly and brought them to his lips, sucking her juices from them.

"Sweet...just as the lord intended." He smirked turning to the mirror and pinning his hair back while she collected herself next to him.

"You...you asked me what sinful things I was thinking about...it was you. You taking my body and thusting into me, cumming inside of me and knowing that I would be bathed in the holy water with your cum flowing down my legs.." Y/n explained. Samuel bit his lip.

"Is that so? Is that something you want? You want my cum inside of you?" He asked pushing her hair to the side.

"More than anything." She gripped his hand and kissed it. He thought about taking her right then and there but the organ music started to play and he knew things were getting started. He could see her stiffen knowing she had run out of time.

"You've got to go!" She fixed her gown and Samuel smiled impressed by her commitment to being baptized despite just being fingered in the church bathroom. He returned to his seat, hair now pinned back and uncomfortable hard on finally dying down as he sat next to his brothers.

He watched her go through the process of becoming an official member of their church and once she emerged from the vat of holy water, her white gown now soaked and clinging to her naked body, he could see her nipples and curves calling to him, begging him to be licked and sucked.

His brothers all shuffled a bit next to him, also feeling the arousal of her naked form but he had to smile to himself as her eyes met his. She belonged to him and no one else but God.

#TV Series: Under the Banners of Heaven #Samuel Lafferty #Samuel Lafferty x Y/N #What it Cost #What it Cost mini series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #Under the Banners of Heaven

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dipolardruid · 1 day

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⚠️ TW WARNING⚠️

Yandere, toxic relationship, kidnapping, attempted break up on readers part.

"What...? No, I wasn't trying to, you know I wouldn't do anything like that!" Tina says with a desperate tone as she closes in on you.

You take a step back to create distance, which causes her to look at you with an unreadable expression "yet you knowingly do it, I've told you repeatedly to stop doing things because they make me uncomfortable, Even after that you still do them." At this she seems to look away a couple of times before making eye contact with you.

"I swear it's never on purpose!" Before you're able to respond or do anything, she continues on."I promise I really mean it! It won't happen starting today!" She says in a pleading tone as she lightly scratches and squeezes her fingers.

"You're right it won't happen starting today because I want nothing to do with you." You quickly turn away before Tina can respond to your words. However, you don't get far before you're grabbed by the back of your shirt "Wait stop w-where are you going?"

Pulling away from Tina, she tries to grab you again, which only causes you to become more aggressive in keeping her hands away, which results in Tina becoming more desperate to hold onto you "please don't go! I promise! I promise I'll stop!" The struggle is enough to cause you to trip over your feet, causing both of you to almost fall.

"Will you stop already! Just leave me alone!" At your raised voice, Tina flinches back, her eyes squinted, fist raised to her chest in a self soothing manner, but it seems to have stopped her from trying to grab you again.

At this, you walk away from her and out of her room, looking back every so often to make sure she isn't behind you. While walking towards the front door, you see both Petra and Jake walking towards you. Upon seeing your upset face, Jake puts up his hand to stop you.

"What's wrong?" He tries to make eye contact with you, but you avoid his gaze looking over at the floor."Go ask Tina." You tell him before walking past him and Petra they both take a quick look at each other before Jake speaks up. "I'll go check on Tina. " Petra nods before following behind you.

That day ended with Petra taking you home and Tina's nonstop calling and texting until you had to block her number.

Despite this, the others sat around you during school hours. Petra or Jake may talk to you, but it's mainly Paul who tries to get you to speak to Tina again.

"Come on, you guys had an argument that's all there is to it. What's the big deal?" He says he says wrapping his arm around your shoulder. However, upon trying to move out of his grip, he tightens his forearm around your collarbone, keeping you in place "ok how about this you just come over you don't have to make small talk with her or anything but just be around like before" you look at him to reject but before you can he speaks up "please..." he says pleadingly.

You don't know why you accepted, you never should've, it would've been better to just take the guilt and walk away from him, to ask for help if he refused to let you go yet you didn't.

Now, here you were watching your face plastered on the screen as your parents beg for your safe return, promising all that they have and more. At this, everything begins to blur as a sob escapes your throat.

"Why...?" Is all that you could muster before the tightness in your throat becomes too much for you to continue talking.

Tina sits beside you, stroking your back. "You tried to leave, I would've handled this better if you listened to everyone else about just coming back, but you wanted to be stubborn about it"

You wanted nothing more than to smack her away and yell, but you knew the consequences of that. You lost count of all the things she's done to you after some time. Things were bearable if you simply let it happen instead of constantly fighting back.

"It's ok...it's ok, come here, no more crying. I don't like it when you cry." Tina says, pulling you closer to herself, your head on her chest.

"They're still looking for me....you can't keep me here forever, tina." You say between breaths as you try to catch your breath. "Really? I would say otherwise, the news has stopped talking about you, your disappearance came and went as everything else does, your parents... let's say they aren't a worry." Tina strokes your head as she says this.

At this you feel you feel your body stiffen and your breath catch in your throat.

As you're about to question her, Tina runs her thumb over your lips before speaking, "That's enough for today. It's late, so let's get you ready for bed." At this, you go to speak up only to be met with Tina's side glance, causing you to keep your mouth shut.

You hate it. You hate the way you fear her. The way your body tenses up as she tucks you into bed and smooths the blanket around you, yet you can't help but let it happen even if you did fight back, you're just a human. Physically, you could stand a chance. However, if she decided to use her power, you'd be on the floor clutching your ears in pain, not only that it'd alert everyone in the house along with the others.

So as much as you want to shove past her as she walks out that door, all you can do is lay in this bed watching her back as she walks out able to do whatever she wants, whenever she wants.

"One more thing." This causes you to look over at her " I love you, Goodnight"

You don't want to say it but you have to yet everytime you do it feels as if you're about to vomit. "Y/N" This causes you to flinch your head back as she says your name with a warning edge to it.

"I-I love you too..."

Request are open!

#yandere #yandere oc #my oc character #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #female yandere x reader #yandere mutants #female yandere #yandere female oc #Tina

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lacrise666 · 1 day

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Harry wanted to hate Tom.

He wanted to look at the young teen and see glowing red eyes or pale, scaly skin. He didn't want to see Tom, he wanted to see Voldemort.

It would make his job easier.

Ever since Harry had been thrown back into the past, just barely passing as young enough for Hogwarts, he had only one thought to keep him going.

One life for thousands.

Tom had to die.

But, Harry knows, he'd already have killed the boy if he still viewed him as Voldemort and not as the smart ass kissing teenager he was. He just didn't. Couldn't, really.

Because again, this was Tom.

He had hazel brown eyes that shown even lighter in the sun and he was still pale but in a more godly, angelic way.

But more over, he really was just a boy, not fully hardened by the world, a concept that Harry was intimately familiar with.

Tom hadn't torn his soul apart yet, Tom still wore his Hogwarts uniform with a Prefects badge attached to it. He still was forced to charm teachers and study for tests he would no doubt pass with flying colors. He still sat in the Great Hall and ate dinners with his house mates.

He did the normal things too, things that may or may not have had Harry in a state of shock for various hours afterwards, things like swimming in the Great Lake and laughing lightly at jokes, attending Quidditch games and broadcasting house pride, occasionally writing in his diary and actually showing some facial expressions.

And, yes, he could still be cold and he could still be rude, but he was no wanna-be-god just yet and certainly not a Dark Lord.

In fact, Harry recalled the knowledge that Tom had wanted to go out for the DADA position before becoming Voldemort.

Harry thought he would be incredible as a teacher if the way he directed the younger years was anything to go by.

He also thought that he shouldn't be thinking about Tom's future. If Harry's plan was to come to fermentation (which it totally was), Tom wasn't going to even have one.

Harry wanted to hate Tom. He wanted to think of him as the man who killed his parents, the man who raised an army and started a war, the monster who ruined his life.

But Harry didn't. Couldn't.

So he roamed the corridors of Hogwarts a few more times pretending he wasn't in his early twenties and wished desperately that Ron and Hermione were there with him, that he had actually gone through with his plan instead of becoming buddy buddy with Tom, the boy that was the furthered thing from Voldemort in his eyes.

He wished, but he didn't regret.

Because Tom was whole and just a boy, happy and ambitious, young and ready to take on the world.

And while Harry just couldn't kill him, he would do anything to prevent Tom becoming Voldemort.

Harry would die if he ever hated Tom.

#harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry #harry just doesn't realize tomarry will happen yet #tom was planning their wedding while i wrote this #i love them and their angst but their fluff takes me to my grave happy 😊

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thornilee013 · 3 days

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Push and Pull

[Instead of a WW for today, you all get (unfortunately only part of) a new project I started because I made myself emotional thinking about it. Thankfully it will be quite short.]

[Summary: Jean is an art major specializing in clay/pottery and goes through some introspection while working on things.]

[Enjoy!]

Jean frowned at the slab of clay sitting in front of him. He was certain that it was mocking him in its readiness to be shaped into something–anything–other than a cone, daring him to try and mold it into something else. Normally Jean handled taunting with a rough check or an even more scathing remark, but clay could not be insulted. It was literally part of the dirt. If he wasn't careful with how much water he applied to the cone, it could very easily become mud underneath his fingers. What kind of insult would be capable of hurting a clay heart? Jean knew that if he was struggling to think of an insult, that there likely were none that would be applicable.

Still, there was a peacefulness in the blank slate that the clay provided. A blank slate that he could always bring back, regardless of how many times the side of the pot caved or the clay slipped off the wheel or if he started the pot off center by accident. No matter what, he could always peel it off the wheel and start again. There was excitement in seeing what he’d be able to create out of the earth, and of seeing just how much the clay would reveal to him of its final purpose along the way.

Jean Moreau always began his pottery projects with the same approach: by building solid walls that he could later adjust through pushing and pulling. When he’d first started making pottery he’d worried that his crooked fingers would hinder the process. That somehow, his hands would be too broken to properly shape the clay. As a result, his first pot had ended up with walls that were too thick and were uneven on top. And yet, when his professor presented the final, fired result, Jean could hardly believe that his lumpy, misshapen pot had been able to withstand its true test.

He’d turned it over and over, searching for clues that it was a fake. He’d been convinced that there was no way that it was his project; after all, the professor had to have recreated it so that it would boost his confidence. Instead, as he’d reacquainted his hands with the clay and examined its curves and flaws, he realized that it fit perfectly in his misshapen hands. It was like holding a piece of himself─a single piece of the puzzle of his selfhood that had, until then, been lost. Then, he found the ghost of one of his fingerprints in the fired clay and all his doubts had been put to rest.

It was still his favorite piece he’d created. It stood as proof to him that he wasn’t too broken to create something new, and on days when he doubted that fact, he would pick up the pot and turn it over once more in his hands and line his thumb up with the fingerprint.

He pulled the clay out in a bold curve, careful to stretch it in a way that would make it expand gradually, only to pinch it back in at a steeper slope.

He’d improved with practice, of course. Soon he’d created bowls and cups and small vases. But for each project that he turned in, his professor would always say the same thing: he needed to work on making the walls thinner. But he’d refused to believe that he could handle anything thinner. He was convinced that his hands were meant for two things: hurting others, and being hurt. Already he’d proven that he could create, but convincing himself that he wouldn’t destroy something was another hurdle he had to overcome.

It hadn’t been until his professor came to stand in front of the station where he’d been working that day and challenged him to create a bowl with a wall thinner than his pinkie.

“But what if it folds on itself? What if it tears?” he’d asked.

“Then you can scrape the clay off the wheel, wedge it, and start over. There’s no limit to it. You can always go back to the beginning. The clay doesn’t mind, and neither do I. As long as you lock up behind yourself when you leave the studio,” his professor had said with a shrug and a smirk.

Sure enough, he’d made the bowl too thin. It ended up tearing and folding in on itself in a pattern that almost resembled a ribbon. Jean had swallowed the defeat and followed his professor’s instructions, and the next time he’d pulled up the walls, he was almost able to maintain a consistent thickness in the walls throughout the entire bowl.

Jean finished the vase by flaring out the top of the project, careful not to let the clay at the top of the piece get so thin that it wouldn’t be able to support its own weight. While other students in the art major program would typically get rid of the slip and any signs of the work being thrown on a wheel, Jean was careful to preserve the imperfections in the surface of his new vase. He was even more nervous to slide the wire under his project, especially given how much he liked how the vase had turned out.

To keep his anxieties at bay, he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself that it was all temporary anyway. Nothing in the world is permanent, and this vase is no exception. But I can make it again, if I want to. It wouldn’t be the same, but I wouldn’t want it to be an exact replica anyway. Once he made peace with the fact that his work was only partially over, he slipped the wire through the clay as close to the base as possible, holding his breath the entire time.

It came off the wheel cleanly, with only a thin layer left behind on the wheel that he scraped off and tossed back into the bin with the rest of the clay they used in class. Once his vase was set aside to air out for the next stage of its creation process, Jean plucked one of his projects that was nearer to completion from the shelf─a plain, relatively small tea cup─and brought it to one of the tables meant for detail work and for glazing.

He was done with the glazing in less than thirty minutes, having picked a unique glaze that was designed to react to the firing process by changing hues and developing a melted appearance.

Jean placed his completed project into the open kiln, whispering a quick prayer under his breath before shutting the lid. Part of him expected that each and every project of his that his professor put into the kiln wouldn’t survive the heat. And if that happened, it would take out the other projects around him as well.

He’d told Betsy several times that he had the same fear about himself─that he would snap someday, and that it would mean that those around him would get hurt in the process.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

MASTERPOST

#lee's writing shenanigans #aftg #all for the game #aftg jean #jean moreau #THANK YOU to Ash for letting me use her as a soundboard and also for encouraging meeeee #I did steal your comment about the kiln process bc man it was too good to pass up #tfc #the foxhole court

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riri-twix · 9 hours

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Can We Become We?

Chapter 3: So Much, Yet So Little

Summary: Satoru, Suguru, and you are forced into a marriage by your families for economic reasons. Satoru who doesn’t know what it’s like to love or be loved. Suguru who believes he is undeserving of anyone’s love. And you who didn’t want to love in the first place.

The three of you agree to stay out of each other’s business, and save the relationship acts only for the elders who imposed this on you. But what happens when feelings for each other start to develop?

She/her pronouns for reader | use of y/n | no smut in in this chapter

You can also read it on ao3 here

When everything was finally over, it was way past midnight. A majority of the guests had already filed out of the building, while the remaining few were gathered in small clusters, quietly chatting among themselves – the elders probably.

The whole wedding passed by in a whirlwind of activity, a blur of colour and sound that your mind couldn't quite grasp. The whole time, it was difficult to ignore the unfamiliar light weight around your ring finger.

All you could really focus on was maintaining that smile on your face, feeling the ache in your jaw from keeping it there for so long. It almost felt like your face was going to get stuck like that.

The night breeze was cool on your skin as you exited the wedding hall, grateful to breathe in some fresh air. You could finally drop the fake smile. Satoru and Suguru had moved to the side, each of them standing in front of their respective parents as goodbyes were being said.

Your father steps forward and takes your hand, looking you directly in the eye. “I know this wasn't what you wanted, but you need to be strong.” He says gently, his voice laced with a mix of concern.

You just nod, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

“It’s getting late, we’ll let you go.” Your mother smiles softly. "We’ll miss you so much. But please come visit us soon, alright?”

“Yeah, of course.” You try to keep your voice neutral, but you can't help but feel a little resentment towards your parents.

You knew that if you expressed your true feelings, it would only lead to more drama and stress, and you were tired of the fighting. Instead, you simply offer a tight-lipped smile and mutter a quick goodbye.

You turn around, without giving them a hug. Nothing felt real, as if it was all just some kind of dream.

A gleaming, white limousine was waiting for you, Satoru, and Suguru. The sleek car stood out against the darkness.

You’ve never been inside a limo before. You always thought that if you were going to get the chance one day, it would be so much fun, to feel like a literal celebrity. But all you felt like was a robot on autopilot.

The chauffeur, a stout, middle-aged man in a dark suit, opened the rear door for you. He offered you a polite smile and ushered you inside. The smell of freshly cleaned leather and pine air fresheners welcomed you into its embrace, as you sink back into the plush seat.

After you, Suguru enters the limo. You exchange a brief glance with him as he gets in, but neither of you says anything. Satoru follows suit, before the chauffeur closes the door. Soon, the car pulls away from the curb, silently and smoothly, like a ghost on wheels.

Between the three of you, no one speaks. And it stays like that for a while. You don’t really care though, not with the way your cheeks were hurting. Talking was the last thing on your mind right now.

You're tired, you're emotional, and above all, you're done. You’re so done with everything.

You lean your head against the window, letting out a deep, exasperated sigh as your muscles finally release the tension they've been carrying. The cool glass feels soothing against your skin. You close your eyes, focusing on breathing.

Tap tap

You frown, shrugging away the light poking on your shoulder.

Tap tap tap

“What?” You murmur groggily, not quite ready to open your eyes.

“Y/n?” That was Suguru, his voice soft but insistent. “We’re here.”

Your eyes flutter open into a squint, vision unfocused as you lift your head up from the glass. Wait what? Did you fall asleep?

“Oh.” You mumbled, trying to shake off the exhaustion that still clings to you. “I fell asleep.”

“It's okay.” Suguru says again, his tone comforting in its familiarity. For a brief second, you’re grateful that he’s being nice.

Satoru rolls down his window as a rather polite looking man with short, black hair and glasses walks up to the limo.

The man bows respectfully, arms by his sides, before straightening up again. “Sir.” He says his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Stop calling me that, Ijichi.” Satoru extends his hand out of the window, his face stoic and expressionless. “Just call me Satoru.”

Ijichi, who had been standing at attention, relaxes slightly at Satoru's words. The man produces a small set of keys from his pocket and places them in Satoru's waiting palm, before Satoru wraps his fingers around them.

Ijichi’s voice takes on a shy, almost meek tone. “You know I can't do that, sir.” He replied, a light blush growing more visible on his cheeks. “Just call me if you need anything, sir.” Satoru nods dismissively at that, and he stepped aside.

The driver takes off again, the car's wheels roll along the quiet residential road, until it eventually slows to a stop.

You blink and suddenly the fatigue of the night's events disappears. The house is not too big, no where near the grandiose of the Gojo estate, but it definitely wasn’t small either.

Satoru is quick to spring into action. Without wasting a second, he thrusts open the car door and leaps out, his movements swift and fluid. It’s fascinating, how a man with such long limbs has such precise mobility.

Suguru stays seated next to you, his eyes glued to the house in front of him. Was he overwhelmed by all of this? Should you comfort him?

Hesitating, you push the silent question away, and instead reach out to open the door. But before you can even touch the handle, the door is suddenly opened by the chauffeur.

A wave of irritation suddenly washes over you.

You suppress a frustrated huff and step down onto the pavement. You know he was just doing his job and all, but for some reason, you wanted to open the door by yourself. Annoyed, you pull at the hem of your dress with one hand to make sure it doesn't get dirty.

Satoru had already reached the wide front porch, slipping the key into the door’s lock. As you make your way to him, you notice the familiar silhouette of your car parked in the driveway of the house, beside one other. Someone must’ve dropped it off here.

Satoru had moved to the side, letting you and Suguru step through the threshold and onto the small foyer, before shutting the door. The automatic lock clicks, and the reality of everything hits you like a ton of bricks.

The atmosphere immediately shifts to something tense and awkward. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, not really sure of your place in this situation. What do you do know? Can you just walk in or…?

When Suguru decides to speak up, you felt like you could breathe again. “We need to sit down and discuss this.” His voice is calm and measured, as if he knows exactly what to do in a situation like this.

Satoru, on the other hand, looks like he’s had enough of the playing nice and pretending they’re all happy when they’re not. He shakes his head, a mixture of frustration and annoyance evident on his face.

“Discuss what exactly?” Satoru says, his voice sharp.

“This.” Suguru’s eyes narrow. “All of this.” He gestured broadly at the room and everything it contains. “And us.”

His bun, which was normally full and round, was now sagging lower on his head, weighing down from the strain of the long day. And yet, even with his hair less than perfect, it didn’t make him look any less stunning.

Satoru's lip curls into a sneer. “There is no us.” He spits, cold and biting. “There is just you, and you, and me.” He pointed at Suguru, then you, then at himself. “I said to stay out of each other’s business.”

Suguru's hand runs down his face, his eyes closing as he takes a deep, calming breath. I know that, and I said I agree with it.” Don’t groan. “But it's not that simple.” He opens his eyes, looking directly at Satoru. "We have to sit down and list everything, talk and work something out."

Your eyes dart back and forth between them, lips sealed tight to avoid adding any more fuel to the fire.

Satoru doesn’t nothing for a moment, as if he was thinking. Then his whole demeanour changes. “You wanna sit down and talk?” He scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fine then.”

He turns on his heel, walking down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoes through the empty house. You and Suguru have no choice but to follow.

You take your seats on the couches, facing each other, the air heavy with unease. Satoru crosses his arms, a sneer on his face as he nods with his chin. “Go on, curtain bangs.” He snarls, his tone thick with contempt. “Talk all you want.”

Suguru feels a pulse throb on the side of his temple. Satoru’s attitude was really starting to piss him off. But he breathes. Control yourself. “Okay, so first things first. Are we all getting our own private space?”

Satoru’s expression remains stoic and cold, but you can see a slight edge to his voice as he responds. “If this is about bedrooms, then yes.” Blunt and to the point. “There are plenty of rooms to go around. Pick whatever.”

As the words sink, something in your heart settles.

You’ve heard that, generally, most people have sex on their wedding night. And you can’t deny the fact that, while the thought had been looming in the back of your mind the whole day, you kept telling yourself that nothing would happen. Because in the end Satoru and Suguru were forced into this too.

You were more than reassured now.

“Okay.” Suguru nods. “Now, what about everything in the house.”

“What about it?” Satoru raises his perfect, white eyebrow at Suguru, and your heart skipped a beat.

“It is yours after all. We’re basically living here as guests, are we not?”

Okay, Suguru’s point makes sense. Satoru didn’t choose for you to live here with him, it was an obligation. It’s only fair if he sets the rules.

Satoru's response is as cold as ever. He shrugs, as if to say he doesn’t give a shit. “Just don’t come into my room.” His voice was devoid of emotion. “And keep your business in your own rooms.”

You look at him in confusion, trying to understand what he meant by that. “Business?” Your eyebrows furrow.

But he only scoffs. “What? You think I’m stupid or something?” He sneers at you both, every word coming out of his mouth was bitter. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna be screwing around.”

Well that felt like a personal slap to your face. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You scowled. Was he seriously accusing you of bringing random people to fuck with? As if it was that easy? You couldn’t even rizz yourself up in front of a mirror let alone a whole other person!

“Pretty sure it was self explanatory.” Satoru rolls his eyes. “But like I said, I don’t care. This,” He takes his ring off his finger. “Means nothing to me. Do whatever the fuck you want.” As if to drive the point home, he tosses it on the coffee table.

The room is silent for a moment before Suguru speaks up, his voice firm and steady. “Okay. Well, it’s settled then.” He picks up the ring and puts it back into Satoru's palm, curling his finger over it. “We’ll stay out of your room, and we should be fine.”

“Whatever.” Satoru stands up and walks away, leaving the two of you behind.

He didn’t want anything do with you, or anyone. Everyone was the same anyway. Just greedy slobs who only cared about what they could get from him. It wasn't just a feeling he came up with overnight, it was something he knew from experience, having been used and hurt in the past by people he had let close to him.

He’s let himself open his heart before. He let himself touch and be touched. Only for the person who ‘loved’ him only act that way for his father’s money. After they got what they wanted, they had spilled the news that they never actually loved him.

The very next day, he saw them share a post with their partner, showing off their newest car. The car he had bought as a gift.

It was just one person, he tried to tell himself. He needed to have hope.

He waited some time before opening up again. This time, the one who proclaimed love lasted longer than his previous one. He was staring to believe that their promise of forever might be real.

Until they asked for a huge amount of money for their project overseas. Satoru wouldn’t say no to someone he loves right? Except, they to left him right after their project succeeded.

Satoru realised that he would only be a fool to believe anyone ever again. No one was ever going to love him. Just his money and his father’s money. There was no point in anything. He couldn’t care less about you and Suguru.

But despite all this, there's a part of him that's still searching for connection and love. He's afraid of getting hurt again, but he's also lonely and longing for something real.

The soft pillow cradles your head as you stare up at the ceiling. You don’t know how long you’ve been awake. There was only the rise and fall of your chest. The bed you were on is so soft, so comfy. One would think you’d have blacked out the moment you touched it, considering how tired you were. But you couldn’t.

Your eyes were sore. You sigh and roll over, trying to force your eyes closed, but it's no use. Your mind wouldn’t switch off.

Suddenly you hear it. The soft, mournful notes of a violin fill the air, piercing through the silence of the night. (Violin playing)

At first, you're not sure if it's real or just a part of your sleep-deprived imagination. But as the music continues to play, the sound becomes more distinct, and you realise that it's coming from somewhere outside.

You make your way to the window, eyes straining in the dark as you search for the source. Then you see him. Satoru. He wasn’t asleep either? You slide the window open.

The night air was cool, but Satoru seemed to hardly notice the chill. He stood still on the back porch, with nothing but the moonlight illuminating his figure with a silver lining. The white hair on his head seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

He held his violin under his chin, the bow in his other hand, moving effortlessly across the strings as he played a melancholic melody. It was a hauntingly beautiful sound that seemed to echo through the night, filling the air with a sense of loneliness and longing.

He looks otherworldly.

Suddenly, weariness takes hold of you, wrapping a comforting blanket over your body. You feel your shoulders relax, your limbs growing heavy. You sink into the comfort of your bed once more. Your eyes drifted to a gentle close, listening as the sounds float in through your window.

Meanwhile, Suguru wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep at all.

On one hand, the bed is incredibly soft, and he's grateful to have a place to rest. On the other hand, he feels like he doesn't deserve it. He's used to sleeping on much stiffer, less comfortable mattresses, and the idea of sleeping on anything this heavenly? It feels almost wrong.

He couldn't shake off the thought that he should sleep on the floor or something. He didn't deserve to be given this kind of thing, to be surrounded by all this. It was a feeling of guilt and inadequacy, that he wasn't good enough.

Slowly, Satoru's violin fills the house with a sweet, muffled song. Suguru sits on his bed, leaning his head back against the headboard. His eyes close, and his expression falls into one of complete relaxation.

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips, and he hums along with the tune, lost in the rhythm. The sweet song washes away the thoughts plaguing his mind, helping him to find a sense of peace.

He was so tired. Maybe he could fall asleep after all.

chapter1, chapter2, chapter3, chapter4 (coming soon)

taglist: @keira80808

#satosugu x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk satoru #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #getou suguru x you #geto suguru #suguru #satosugu #stsg #stsg x reader #satoru x suguru #polyamory #poly satosugu #ao3 fanfic #multple chapter series

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shady-tavern · 3 days

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Preview for "Heartless" the May Patreon Short Story

Everyone knew of the mage who had lost his heart. Some said he had given it to a beautiful but cruel witch, who had kept it since as a trophy. Others said he had been so cruel the beautiful witch had taken it in a bid to stop him and he haunted the lands ever since, lost and searching for what had been stolen.

Others once again said he had gambled it away in the hopes of never again fearing the touch of death and decay.

The legend changed depending on the warning people wanted to impart, but everyone agreed on one thing: Anyone who was able to return the mage's heart was owed a wish. A powerful one at that, one that could even bring back the dead. Or so they said.

Many people had tried to retrieve the heart over the years. Older folk who desired to regain their youth, young lovers who wanted to stay together forever and grieving parents who wanted their slain children back. Even slighted nobles who wished to marry a king to climb in station and show up their rivals along with hopeful peasants who wanted to enrich their lives had given it a try.

The yearning for eternal beauty, for invincibility, the desire to grow rich and famous, love and greed, despair and dreams, all those and more had driven people to seek out the mage.

He wasn't terribly hard to find if one knew how to, people said. One needed a cloudless night during a full moon, creating a circle made of acorns and cornflowers. A bowl would be placed in four spots, facing the four points of the compass.

A bowl of milk facing the south, a bowl of salted mushrooms to the east, a bowl of white bones to the north and to the west stood a bowl filled with iron shavings.

Once those things were in place, one had to sing the mage's song. A lament that could not be messed up even once, nor was the singer allowed to stutter. The smallest misstep meant the mage would not deign to appear.

But once the ritual was completed, he'd be there, ethereal and beautiful. And very much heartless. Some people said his eyes were empty and black like coals, others said he was relentlessly hungry, a near mindless beast driven to try and get back what he had lost.

In stories he was either cold and uncaring or a moaning beast willing to tear people apart. Some said he ripped out their hearts when they failed to get him his back and that he stuffed theirs into his chest instead, only for the hearts to turn to dust in his hands.

Others said he was quite satisfied with his lot in life, that he liked not feeling anything, walking in eternal coldness. That it made him sharp and impossible to trick and that his magic had become all the more powerful for it.

Whatever truth there may be to these stories, one thing remained unchanged: He had no heart. No one had been able to give it back to him, no matter how hard they had tried.

You could admit that you liked hearing stories about something as wondrous and yet as far removed from your life as a heartless mage. Your life was quiet and gentle and you liked it that way. While you loved stories of kings and queens and magical conquests, of evil slain and good prevailing, of innocent people rescued, such things had no place in your day to day life.

You were the daughter of a warm, frugal man who had married a reasonably rich merchant, a woman who gave freely and happily and both of them had raised you with plenty of love and care. You had wanted for nothing when they filled the house with laughter and taught you everything they could with gentle hands.

When you had decided to become a bee keeper and candle maker, they had helped you fulfill your dream, asking around until they had found the perfect little home and plot of land for you to pay off, since you refused their money. They had already given you enough.

"What would you ask for, if you got the mage's heart?" your best friend asked when she visited you one afternoon to pick up the produce from your bees, a jar of honey and two candles you had made for her.

You paused for a long moment, looking outside the window to your flower fields and the approaching heavy rain clouds.

"I'd probably just give it back to him," you answered and at her incredulous look, you couldn't help but shrug. "I'm happy, right now there is nothing I'd ask for."

Happiness wasn't around every day of course. You had weathered many a storm, but largely you were, indeed, quite content with life. You had learned that even if dark times came, you could fight through them until you reached the light again. You could and would do it as many times as necessary.

"I'd probably ask for all the riches I could think of," your friend mused. "I'd love to go to the big city and attend the balls, you know? Dancing with dashing noblemen and women and just..."

She sighed wistfully, adding, "Just imagine it. Glittering jewel chandeliers and all those elegant, courteous people. No one farting at the dinner table or anything like that."

You couldn't help but laugh as you handed over the candles she had asked for. You had carved some delicate flowers along the outside per her request and her eyes lit up when she saw your handiwork.

"Why not marry the mage then? He should be able to give you all that with how sought after and highly regarded his kind are," you asked as she put everything into her basket.

"Mages are dangerous," she answered with a shake of her head. "I won't ever tangle with that. Besides, I heard that mages only appear beautiful at first. The longer you look at them, the stranger they become. I don't know. I don't think I could have a husband that would look less and less human every day."

That was reasonable enough, you supposed, if such things were true.

Your friend frowned a little and sighed, "Not that I'd ever get a chance to find his heart in the first place, if the legend is even true. Old Brenna swears up and down that she saw him once, but then again she also claims to have seen bog bies and little gnomes. Still, wouldn't it be nice to not be stuck here?"

"I quite like it here," you said and cast a glance outside the window. "And if you don't plan to either walk through the rain or stay for dinner you should probably get going."

Your friend leaned forward to peer up at the sky as well and made a face. "Damn, you're right. Alright, I'll see you again tomorrow?"

"You're welcome anytime," you reassured her and she left with a fond smile, telling you to drop by for dinner at her place sometime soon.

A minute after she left the first drop hit your window, followed by many more. You took a moment to stand there and close your eyes, listening to the pitter patter of rain coming down on your cozy little home. What a lovely sound.

You cleaned up around the house for a bit, listening to the calming, steady fall of rain, before you peered out the window again. It was getting late enough that you should lock the chickens in their coop so they'd be safe during the night.

Grabbing your wool cloak to stay safe from the rain and getting barefoot into your boots since you couldn't be bothered to put on socks, you stepped outside. The smell of rain and warm earth welcomed you as you walked down the small path to the coop, lightly hopping from one broad, flat stone to the next.

You hummed to yourself and before you knew it, you were singing the mage's song as you checked if the chickens were already safely inside their coop.

For all the joy, all the joy it brought to me

My heart longs, oh it longs to be set free

All's fair in love and war they say

But when your words, oh your sweet words wither and decay

My heart drowned, oh it drowned in sorrow's flood

So set me free, set me free so I can choose to land

In someone's kind and gentle hand

You weren't too worried about summoning the mage with just his song, considering the plethora of things one had to do on top of that – if he indeed existed. You doubted he'd even hear you singing in the rain in the first place.

If you were being honest, you quite liked the song, depending on your mood, you could sing it quickly and cheerfully or slowly and with melancholy. Today you sang it light and sweet with an undertone of joy, fitting to the good mood the gentle rain had brought as you locked in your chickens.

It took you a moment to notice the steady, muffled sound of footsteps and when you turned around, curious and surprised, you stilled, the song dying on your lips.

You knew it was the mage with just a glance. He stood tall and with elegant poise, his long, flowing robes were black as night and raven-dark embroidery shimmered on it in the dim, evening light falling through thick clouds.

His missing heart was easy to see, a ring of light glowing softly on his chest, reminding you of the solar eclipse you had seen once.

His long, pale hair fell down his back like a wave of shimmering silver and his lashes were dark and thick, his eyes a soft lavender. His eyes were the only bits of true color on him.

Even the jewelry he was decked in was pale. The delicate silver crown with it's glittering gems, the earrings on his pointy ears, the rings on his elegant fingers and the necklace around his throat, they all looked like they were woven out of starlight and white gold.

"Good evening," the mage said and your friend had been right about one thing, the longer you looked at him, the less human he appeared.

His lavender eyes held a shine that was deeper and stranger than even the oldest woods, his nails seemed just a tad too hard and long, hinting at claws, his hair too shimmering and silver and his clothes were made of no fabric you had ever seen before.

He seemed utterly out of place, standing among the flower fields that surrounded this side of your home, rain gently drumming down.

"I had not expected to hear my song tonight," he said, soft spoken and polite, but you weren't fooled. Mages were dangerous and you had been raised with a good head on your shoulders. "Especially without any of the usual provisions. Are you to make a bid for my heart?"

"Oh, my apologies," you hurried to say, nervously gripping your woolen cloak as you peered at him past the rim of your hood. "I merely like your song, I had not intended to call upon you. I honestly thought it wouldn't work without all the other demands being fulfilled."

His head tipped slightly, the fine, delicate chain on one ear glittering with the movement. "I see. Now that I did appear anyway, do you intend to make a bid for my heart?"

You wondered if it was painful for him, to wander around without one. If he was caught in a perpetual search for the next person who could gain it and trade it back for a wish. If maybe, between being summoned by songs, he was hunting for his heart himself.

"No," you answered honestly. You personally did not much enjoy lying in the first place, it only caused problems sooner or later. "I have no desire for your heart."

He blinked once and there was a pause, as though he was carefully choosing his words. "And what about a wish?"

You couldn't help but gesture all around you. "I like my life, I like this place and my work here and those I love are happy and healthy enough." Could wishes even make people truly happy? Or were they tricks, like fae deals? "There is little I want and the things I do desire I intend to get on my own."

He seemed surprised at your answer and then he was smiling and everything about him seemed just a tad brighter, from the glow on his chest to the glittering jewelry and the silver shine of his hair.

"A fair answer from a fair heart, I am glad to hear as much," he said, a touch of real warmth entering his voice. "My apologies for disturbing you then. Have a good evening."

He offered a polite little bow and was about to move on when you realized that he was getting more drenched with every moment. And while he was a mage, you did feel a bit bad that you had summoned him into this weather unintentionally.

"Would you like to come in?" you asked and he paused, glancing at you. "At least until the bad weather is over. I've been told I make pretty good food, too."

He blinked and water trailed over his crow, dripping off at the edges and he inclined his head in agreement, appearing somewhat curios.

You led the way back to your little home and held the door open for him. Toeing off your shoes and as he stepped inside, you fetched a linen towel for him and handed him the slippers you kept around for when you had visitors with bigger feet.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said and you felt the brief shiver of magic in the air that dried him entirely as he refused the towel with a rather kind smile.

You left him to look around your open living room and kitchen as you started to boil water for a pot of tea. He was quite respectful of your space, glancing at some paintings you kept around and your little knickknacks on display.

He did pause when he saw your work, the candles you had finished today, some already packaged to be sent out tomorrow. The temple had a regular order that you fulfilled and they were due another delivery.

"You are quite skilled," he said and gestured at the candles you had carved and painted for market day. "May I?"

"Go ahead," you told him, digging out the fancy tea your mother had gifted you as a house warming gift.

By the time the tea was done, the mage had selected a few candles and upon inquiring for their prices, paid for them.

"May I put in an order?" he asked. "Some of my spellwork requires candles. Would you be willing to make enchanted ones as well, so long as I bring you the necessary components?"

"Can I even enchant candles? I'm about as ordinary as they come," you answered and the mage's face lit up.

To your surprise, the ensuing conversation and discussion about magic and magical properties that some things inherently possessed and how ordinary people could use them as well, was quite fun and interesting.

Before you knew it, you had served dinner and the mage had complimented you for the good food and you kept talking as the rain kept falling outside, moving into your living room to get comfortable on the two seats you had placed near the small fireplace.

You genuinely had so much fun you even managed to make the mage laugh, the jewelry on his ears tinkling softly as he was gripped by mirth. You were sad to see him go when the thrum of rain stopped at last.

"Feel free to visit whenever you want," you said with a smile as you accompanied him to the door. "I'm here most days and it can get quite lonely." You loved your friends and family, but they had their own lives and their own responsibilities and relationships to care for. You didn't get to see them as often as you'd like.

"I understand that all too well," the mage said with a little smile, melancholic and soft, that told you he indeed knew what it was like. "I will take you up on that offer. Ah, may I tell my friends and acquaintances about you as well? They have been looking for a good candle supplier for some time."

"Oh, of course, though, maybe give me some time to figure out how to create enchanted candles," you answered and he obligingly bowed his head a little.

As he left, he did so with a last smile, his jewelry shimmering as though freshly polished and his hair as fine as spun silver coated in starlight. He was gone just like that, melting into the dark of night as though he had become one with it.

Closing the door you went and cleaned up and finished packing away the candles for the next day. As you went to bed, you couldn't help but think that he didn't seem to be in pain, at the very least.

Still, you couldn't imagine that being heartless was very pleasant.

*.*.*

Would you like to read more? Then head over to my patreon and check out my stories there or give the masterpost a look!

Thank you all so much for your support, it makes it an absolute joy to keep writing stories!

#my writing #preview #magic #love #the special care and handling of hearts #hope you'll like it!#short story #spilled ink

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sunkcost · 2 years

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i find it really interesting how in many ways jimmy is an inversion of the typical conman. we talk about how his cons are a way of taking back power or gaining a sense of control, but i don’t know that i’ve seen anyone point out (though i’m sure someone has) how his tendency to go after powerful people is the exact opposite of what most conmen do. usually a con artist or a scammer will go after whoever they see as most vulnerable, like a wolf picking off the weakest member of the heard. they target the people they think will be most likely to believe them, the more desperate or well-intentioned the better. jimmy’s father is singled out as a mark because he’s so eager to help people. they don’t care that he needs the money and they don’t feel bad about taking advantage of his kindness. jimmy's marks, in contrast, tend to be that same type of person. he pretends to be the vulnerable one, and rather than taking advantage of their willingness to help, he leads them to believe that they’re taking advantage of him.

the man that he and marco trick into buying the worthless coin involves himself as soon as he thinks they don’t want him listening. he says “hey, money talks” feeling that he just came out on top of someone else. they never directly sell him on anything. he took it upon himself to buy a coin that was being sold to another person. in the flashback in 1x04 the man yells “later, sucker” as he runs off with the fake rolex (which he thinks they stole off a semi-conscious man passed out in an alley, even if said man was a dick). both plans very clearly hinge on jimmy and marco appearing as the “suckers” and their ‘victim’ taking advantage of that of their own accord. you see it with the stockbroker he and kim scam in the first episode of s2 as well. they lure him in by presenting themselves as people who have lots of money to invest, don’t know what they’re doing, and are very suggestible and desperate for advice. after they leave he goes, “wow. just... wow.” as if he can’t believe his luck in finding two people with so much money that are so easy to manipulate. if you scam someone by pretending to be a mark, it would follow that the people you scam are people looking for marks, or at least are happy to seize the opportunity when it’s presented to them. even in s6, the first guy we see jimmy scamming as “viktor” is constantly trying to trick him into losing bets, unable to believe jimmy keeps falling for it and yet very much enjoying humiliating him and taking his money. jimmy targets walt, who sees himself as superior to those around him and bullies his wife and jesse more than anyone else, exploiting their emotional entanglement with him. the first person walt singles out to help him in his power trip is a drug addict, someone vulnerable that he feels will be easy to control. he prefers vulnerability to reliability, telling gus that he likes jesse because he can trust him and he does what he tells him to. jimmy never really engages with skyler and jesse in the same way walt does. he actually tries to help skyler deal with the man she cheated on walt with without telling walt, and uses walt’s money to do it. if you wanted to be generous (and i do) you could even read his attitude towards skyler, especially with regards to the car wash, as his half-hearted attempt to prevent her from becoming involved.

however, i think that the most glaring and clearly intentional contradiction in his conman role is his involvement with elder law, elderly people being the quintessential stereotype of a scam victim. despite the fact that “old people love him” and he’s clearly very good at charming them, his elder law practice is genuine. when marco asks if he’s “ripping off old people” he seems somewhat incredulous at the suggestion. far from exploiting them, he actually uncovers and exposes sandpiper crossing for defrauding their residents (a plot which repeatably brings up how vulnerable old people are to abuse and manipulation by citing various legal sanctions). the one time that he does manipulate his former clients as part of a ploy to close the sandpiper suit, his plan would actually result in them getting money, not losing it. when he realizes that his exploitation of their trust had real negative repercussions he calls it off and mitigates the damages by creating a situation that would cause them to see him as the bad guy, the kind of person who actually would happily manipulate and exploit old people without scruples, despite the fact that his elderly clients were some of the only people to genuinely like him. it doesn’t benefit him in any way and he actually says that he really doesn’t want to do it, but he makes the sacrifice anyway because he feels guilty that he exploited their trust in him.

chuck could be taken as another prime example of someone that the typical conman would see as a perfect victim: mentally ill, often desperate, vulnerable, and dependent on him. instead we’re immediately shown how upset jimmy is at the idea that howard is taking advantage of chuck (“wave bye-bye to your cash cow, ‘cause it’s leaving the pasture”). he switches the numbers only after he feels like chuck exploited kim’s hard work just because she had less power than him and he felt entitled to it. he only retaliates against chuck after he feels chuck knowingly and callously twisted his trust and concern against him. at the same time, they make absolutely clear that jimmy holds total legal power over chuck’s autonomy at multiple points and yet he only ever does what he thinks chuck would want him to, no matter how mad he is at him or how badly chuck’s hurt him. he’s uncomfortable with having the power in the first place, the thought of abusing it would never even cross his mind (not necessarily applauding him for this, but it’s still worth pointing out how it subverts the expectations associated with the archetype).

the only thing to snap him out of his dark, pain-fueled scam spiral at the end of the series is marion telling him, “i trusted you.” that phrase triggers something and all the fight appears to go out of him. he was relatively unfazed by the man with cancer, and to be honest, his argument wasn’t totally invalid. while having cancer certainly makes you vulnerable in many ways, it doesn’t really have anything to do with how trusting you are or if you’re easily manipulated or if you manipulate other people. the walt example wasn’t inappropriate. maybe jimmy wouldn’t have been as willing as “saul” or “viktor,” maybe he would, but if you’re looking at the criteria he uses to determine his marks, having cancer really isn’t relevant. this is different though. he’s manipulated plenty of people that may have been more vulnerable, but it’s always in service of a bigger plan and in a way that he thinks won’t hurt them (i.e. manipulating the sandpiper residents but only when he believes they would also benefit and willingly taking a hit to reverse the damage he caused after seeing his mistake). at first the nippy lie did seem to fall into those parameters. he wasn’t trying to hurt her in any way, he just wanted to get to jeff. the bleaker his mental state became, the less consideration he seemed to put into who he was hurting and why, but the second that he became cognizant of the fact that he’d manipulated a vulnerable person into trusting him, then exploited that trust, and was now about to see them suffer for it, he stopped cold. even at his darkest and cruelest, that was a horrifying realization.

none of this is exactly news, but plenty of people exploit and bully those they see as weaker or more vulnerable than them as a way to feel more powerful (walter white is a prime example of that. his entire arc is basically a how-to guide on it.), so i find it interesting that jimmy inverts the conman figure, which does represent that personality type in a lot of ways. his conning is still very much associated with power, but as much as he hates feeling small or weak or vulnerable or exploited or without control, he never turns around and takes it out on someone less powerful. it’s a weak person that claims victory by picking a fight with someone they know can’t hit back. that’s not to say he doesn’t do damage or he never hurts people who don’t deserve to be hurt (whatever that means), but in juxtaposition with walt it works perfectly. both stories follow men who make bad choices in an attempt to stop feeling powerless, but if there’s one thing jimmy’s never been, it’s a bully. to use the archetype of the con artist is genius because once you actually put jimmy in that mold it’s immediately obvious how badly he fits. he’s not shameless. his entire character arc is about shame and desperation for approval from others. he’s not ruthless. he’s overwhelmed by guilt over his own collateral damage. walt is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, using his harmless appearance to trick and attack those more vulnerable than himself. jimmy is a sheep in wolf’s camouflage, trying to cloak his own vulnerability by playing dress up with someone else’s clothes, clothes that never fit quite right.

#better call saul #*#actually really wish they'd kept his shitty too-big brba suits in the saul goodman scenes in bcs now #would really serve to illustrate my metaphor dflsdj #the more vulnerable the man the more extreme the costume #the more it starts to envelop him and he starts to disappear inside of it #the fact that he can only verbalize some things if it's part of a con #like #you can't exploit my vulnerability if i'm using my vulnerability to exploit you #he's very unwell i'm obsessed with him #and perfect ending having him shed his wolfskin #he's not becoming anything he wasn't already #he's not defanging himself #he's like... taking out the plastic fangs he got at party city DKLFSJ

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