#time to get in my evil chapter of my life/j

[stonesandpeaches]

hello little internet people on my blog

can i do this challenge too? 👉👈🎨🎶♣

#time to get in my evil chapter of my life/j #natt talks #hope there are enough new arts from me so far for people to tell what traits i might have haha

[xxacademy]

Throne of His Own

This fic is inspired & adapted from chapter 42 of A Court Of Mist And Fury, by Sarah J. Maas. Plot is original, but I took heavy influence from the events of that scene. <3

Leon Kennedy x Agent!Reader (she/her)

18+ MDNI !!

Summary: Being sent to a rural French village to go undercover with a band of vampires was strangely typical for your line of work— But, pretending to be lovers with another agent was anything but typical. Adapting yourself from a trained agent to a submissive lover unfolds in an unexpected series of events.

Word count: 10.2k

Content warnings: smut, AFAB anatomy, exhibitionism, penetrative sex, pet names, slightly mean possessive Leon (only when he has to be), alcohol consumption, typical violence and themes associated with resident evil (like mentions/ use of weapons).

a/n: somewhere, deep in the void, this was intended to be about 2k words, just a little one shot... but now here we are, lol. anyways thank you guys for being so patient, and thank u to my besties on here for being so kind and understanding. life is crazy, and truly i cannot keep up as consistently as i’d like to. i will always be here, even if i take some long breaks here & there. i love all u resident evil obsessed freaks, my life wouldn’t be the same without u xx also i finally decided to not be lazy & do the cute colored letters i hope u enjoy hehe

— PART I —

You peered out the window as you were driven through the endless sprawl of the snow-covered French countryside. A blur of powdery white pines occasionally broken up by small villages nestled into the hills.

Behind all those tall trees were the ragged peaks of the hulking French Alps, so expansive they nearly cut the sky in half. The beauty and stillness of winter was in full effect. Every little village had plumes of warming smoke gathering above the chimneys.

The agent driving the car interrupted your silent musing over the scenery. "You'll have to hike in. It's about 5 miles to the village, but we can't risk getting too close."

With one hand still on the wheel, he reached for the center console, pulled out a large envelope, and tossed it in your lap.

"There you'll find the information you need. Your partner, Leon Kennedy, has been undercover, posing as one of them."

Your voice is monotone, almost disinterested. "And who's them?"

"Some parasite-infected blood suckers. Leon has described them as a vampiric blood cult or something."

"And I'm just expected to waltz into all this? A blood cult? Really?"

"He talked about having a lover, a woman he returned home to, and at the time, it was just banter to fit in with them. But the cultists want to meet her. Either they're getting suspicious, or they want to play ball. Regardless, this served as a rather interesting opportunity to give Leon backup. So here you are."

Your knuckle rests below your bottom lip; you watch as the sun begins its descent below the icy mountain peaks. 

So here I am. 

You and one of the few other survivors of Raccoon City. You've met him, sure, but you have yet to work alongside him. But, you'd always known the day would come. 

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You were driven as far as the meandering forest service road would allow. Ahead of you, where the road was no more, towering evergreens had taken over. Their limbs were heavy with packed snow, creating a dense cover over the forest. Only a sliver of the remaining purple-tinted dusk made it through the trees.

"This is where you're on your own. Here are the coordinates for where you'll meet up. Just stay north until you find an abandoned barn. That's where he'll be."

You nod in understanding, equipping your array of weapons—a rifle on your back, a pistol on your hip, and a machete on the other.

"We'll have you out before the end of the week," the agent said, helping you put your pack on.

"I'll count my blessings," your face was solemn as you faced the trees, attempting to size up what lay ahead.

"Well then, you're set. The best of luck to you." a sympathetic smile formed on the agent's lips as he stepped back into the car.

Without hesitation, you departed into the cold, dark wilderness.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Seven miles may not have been a lot for you, but Seven miles of trekking through uncharted backcountry in the dark of winter was. You were chilled to the bone, and the numbness of your limbs limited your mobility ten-fold. 

The thick undergrowth of the forest only got denser as you progressed, and your machete-wielding arm throbbed with every strike.

You stumbled up an embankment. With every step, loose, powdery snow slipped underneath your winter boots. Each sharp breath you took appeared as mist, illuminated by your headlamp.

As you finally reached the crest of the hill, you spotted a dilapidated barn at the base. It was nestled underneath a skeletal weeping willow tree. As you moved closer, you noticed half of its roof had caved in. Just one billow of wind could send the thing toppling.

You made your way down the slope, encroaching on the barn. You pulled out your pistol and dimmed your headlamp just to be safe.

Focusing on sound, you surveyed the area for footsteps, rustling, or speaking.

There was not a peep to be heard. Aside from the occasional whisper of wind, the surrounding forest was eerily quiet.

The crunch of the snow under your boots was frustratingly loud as you circled the barn's perimeter, searching for traps.

To your surprise, you peeked through a frosty window and saw the dull glow of a lantern, and a man sat beside it.

He was bundled head to toe in fur-lined clothing similar to your own. His eyes flicked up, and they met with yours. Without speaking, he signaled you in.

You couldn't recall what he looked like, but you remember a distinctly boyish look despite him being around your age when the incident happened. But the person who stood before you was a lot different.

This man is rugged and muscular. His cheekbones are much more pronounced, and his pale blue eyes are set deep in their sockets. Gentle yet battle-hardened. All that boyishness has dissipated.

"Leon," he said, stretching a gloved hand toward yours. 

You stuttered your name through shivering lips, your hand meeting Leon's in a firm shake.

His tactful eyes scanned you, assumedly noting how cold you were.

"We really should get going. I've been holed up in a cabin only a few miles from here."

"Gladly, I'm freezing my ass off." 

Without any further small talk, Leon leads the way, setting out once again for the dark, unforgiving woods.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

"Make yourself comfortable; I'll get a fire going," Leon said, opening the door for you before heading back outside for firewood. 

You threw your pack onto the ground beside the fireplace. The room was completely dark, except for the small path illuminated by your headlamp.

You fumbled a matchbook out of your pocket and started to light the myriad of taper candles around the cabin. 

Warm candlelight flooded the room, illuminating the interior of the gothic-style cabin. It was constructed of dark, ashy wood—the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and everything else.

Eclectic, mismatched carpets overlapped each other. And dark red curtains pooled along the ornate windows.

He called it a cabin, but the interior was rather grand.

Your heavy .22 caliber rifle had been digging into your back for hours, so you peeled it off with a relieving sigh. As you set it down on the wooden dining table, it made a hollow metallic clunk. You stripped off your other heavy layers onto the table, like your machete and belt, but kept on your fur-lined outerwear. Inside wasn't that much warmer.

With a heavy boot, Leon kicked open the front door, cradling wood in his forearms. With him, a gust of snow flurries blew into the cabin. He again kicked the door closed behind him and dumped the wood beside the fireplace.

"The snow is picking up again. You got here at the right time," Leon said, striking a match and tossing it into a pile of kindling inside the stone hearth.

You sit on a deep red Victorian-style couch in front of the fireplace. You sighed and kicked your boots up onto the coffee table.

"You call this place a cabin?" You say as your hand brushes the fine velvet upholstery of the couch.

"Well, when you see the rest of this village, you'll see why this place is considered just a cabin."

"These cultists must be the extravagant type then, huh?"

Leon piled wood onto the roaring fire, the crackling glow illumining his features. He stepped back from the heat and faced you, pulling off his heavy jacket. "Yeah, to say the least. They're greedy fuckers with bloodlines full of wealth. These gaudy homes just scratch the surface."

"So, now my real question is—how did you weasel your way in? How are you seriously posing as a cult member?" You stretched your shaky hands towards the fire, desperate for warmth. "You can't be serious that you, an American, just waltzed into a French village and are pretending to play cultist," you said with heavy speculation, your stern eyes meeting his.

Leon's lip ticked, calm eyes unbreaking from yours.

"They have plenty of outlets funneling within the United States, which gave us the perfect opening. We intercepted communications from a faction of theirs based in the States and used them as a bleed for information. Eventually, it was requested that they, we, send over a high-ranking nobility to come to France to one, act as a messenger, and two, be part of their transformation ritual."

"And that's where you came in?"

Leon's face went grave.

"Yeah, I trained to be and act like one of them. I learned every piece of information we know about this narcissistic vampire cult and its deviant religion. I've had to change everything about my life and thinking to be here. It's been months kissing ass in the hope of more information."

The room was becoming increasingly warm, and you started to feel claustrophobic in your winter clothing. You began to shed your layers of outerwear. 

"That sounds awful. I can't believe you've made it out here, alone, for so long..." you paused for a moment but resumed, "but please, tell me that it has been worth it."

The question loomed thick in the air as you struggled with your boots, eventually kicking them off and walking to the fire to warm your cold, damp feet. 

You could really get a good look at Leon here. He wore a tight black shirt that emphasized his muscular build and black cargo pants. His complexation looked soft against the warm firelight, juxtaposing the intensity of his prominent features.

He, too, seemed to be taking in your appearance as you sauntered toward the light. What he was thinking about was absolutely unknown, as he remained stone-faced.

"It has," he said, breaking the silence. "It has been worth it."

Leon's eyes drifted to his hands as if in a trance.

"What we now know about the cultists can completely change the course of this fight. But as I push forward, it's not going to be easy. I don't think this is going to end smoothly. That's why I needed backup." Leon cleared his throat. But there is a catch, too."

His eyes darted up to meet yours. You tensed, straightening your back, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. 

"The king, that fucking king, wants me to bring my lover."

Although you were briefed on this situation prior, nothing could have prepared you for hearing it from him directly. 

You laughed-- partly to ease the tension, but mainly because the mission-altering crux for the honored agent is his girlfriend.

"It's crazy, I know, but it couldn't be a more perfect invitation to bring another agent in." His cheeks flushed with the slightest hue of red.

"Please, tell me how you got into this situation in the first place". You tried to contain your laughter but failed.

Leon breathed an exasperated sigh.

"Well, the Lords, false prophets more like, banter about their romantic conquests. And well, after they all had drowned on about all the unsavory details, they looked at me, awaiting what story I had to tell."

"And what did you tell 'em?"

"I did what I had to do. I made up stories about having a girlfriend at home... And whatever else would keep them from asking too many questions." 

You nodded.

"They also bring their women to the castle and flaunt them like furs. Sometimes, it's literally for their blood. Most of the time, it's just to stroke their own ego by having pretty women hanging off them." Leon added.

Of course, the power-hungry vampire kings saw women as conquests. Ultimately, it shouldn't surprising that it would come to this.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

It's been a long, long day.

You have all the information you need at this point, and the exhaustion is quickly overtaking you. 

You yawn with outstretched arms, relaxing them to rub your heavy eyelids. Your body is finally warm, and you realize how well the bone-chilling cold kept you awake. 

"I'll show you to your room," Leon said, helping you collect the things you dumped around the room. He led you down a darkened hallway to your bedroom.

"There are some clothes and a few other things you may need. If you need anything else, my room is just across the hall," he stated, setting your things down. 

"Is there anything I need to know about tomorrow?" You added before Leon could step out of the room. 

"You'll have the day to adjust. We'll go over the mission then. Just focus on resting up for now."

His lips came to a subtle smile, "Goodnight."

You smiled back, "Goodnight to you too."

You surveyed the room, starting with the armoire. It was full of clothes that looked like they were from another time: grand dresses with sheer, lacy fabrics of black and red with low sweeping necklines. There was also a long black hooded cape, corsets, and tall-heeled boots. The drawers below housed underwear and pajamas. 

You slipped off your dingy clothes for a long black strappy nightgown from the armoire.

You hid your weapons around the room, your rifle, machete, and extra ammo in the closet, your knives in the vanity, and your pistol tucked under the mattress. 

Like the rest of the decor, the bed was ornate. It was intricately carved out of the same ashwood as the cabin. The white sheets were plush and soft to the touch.

After securing your room, you crawled into bed. Falling almost immediately into sleep. 

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Blinding white winter's light singed your vision as you woke up in a panic, a persistent cracking noise echoed from outside. It was a splintering sound as if someone was trying to get in.

You stealthily crawled out of bed and cracked open the bedroom curtain to peer outside. Nothing of interest could be seen, only the quiet woods blanketed by fresh snow.

The woods were now illuminated by sunshine, making them appear significantly less intimidating than last night. That didn't make them any less haunting, though.

Pistol in hand, You tiptoed through the house in search of Leon. First, you knocked on his bedroom door, and when he didn't answer, you investigated the rest of the house. 

There were no signs of Leon, only the smell of something cooking and the sound of that grating thudding noise echoing through the house. 

You silently opened the front door and exited barefoot, the coldness of the snow against your skin sending shivers up your spine. The satin fabric of your nightgown offered no protection from the elements.

One step at a time, you sneaked around the side of the house. The thudding got louder with each pace, and your heartbeat raced with adrenaline.

Carefully, You rounded the corner to the source of the noise. Arms straight, gun drawn.

Leon's eyes, bewildered, raked your figure, and he huffed a laugh, "Good morning, super cop. You must be freezing."

He looked down the barrel of the gun before you put it down.

He was just chopping wood.

Clearly, your senses were on high alert. You felt embarrassed that something so trivial and ordinary ticked those mental alarms.

Defensively, you retorted, "Well, I'm not the one chopping wood in a creepy vampire town first thing in the morning! For God's sake, I thought someone was breaking in or attacking!" You huffed, crossing your arms, a once panicked stare turning to one of annoyance.

Leon dropped the axe in the snow, reaching for a large piece of wood. 

"And coming outside, in the dead of winter, wearing only a nightgown would have made a difference?" Leon said with a smirk, but it dropped quickly as he again reached for the axe to chop another piece of wood.

"And a gun! You seemed to have missed that part, and what else was I supposed to do? Spend 10 minutes putting my gear on?" You argued with a pout. Muscles tensed as adrenaline melted away.

You were still waking up and not in the mood to argue. But yes, you definitely could have kicked ass in your pajamas.

"Okay, okay, I promise I'm done pestering you. Breakfast is on the stove. You should go eat." 

Begrudgingly, you walked back inside, mumbling your frustrations to yourself. It's safe to say you're not a fan of rude awakenings.

While lounging on the couch, you ate the breakfast of eggs and bacon Leon had prepared. You flipped through your logbook, filling in everything that happened in the last 24 hours.

Leon opened the front door, shaking off his snow-covered clothing before entering. He'd been out there for hours, and it was evident in the sweat that lingered down the side of his forehead. 

Standing in the foyer, Leon peeled off his brown fur-lined bomber jacket and casually pulled the sweat-drenched black t-shirt over his head.

You watched him from where you sat on the couch, a bit confused as he acted as if no one was around.

You got a glimpse of the toned plane that was his back. He stretched his arms out, unintentionally giving you a better view. He rolled out his sore shoulder blades for a moment, and you discreetly watched from the corner of your eye.

You stifled whatever the fuck that feeling was and resumed your logbook. 

In an attempt to find some grievance, you cleared your throat. It was subtle enough not to seem suspicious but clear enough that Leon definitely heard you. 

But you're sure he was aware of you the entire time.

Leon walked toward the hallway and said, "I have a business to take care of at the castle; when I get back, we'll go over what's expected for the mission tomorrow. You'll find the notebook I've kept about these people on the bookshelf. You should skim it to familiarize yourself."

He walked into the bathroom without waiting for your reply. The only sound was the door shutting behind him.

Leon had left to take care of his end of the mission, and you remained alone in the cabin for the rest of the day. 

You bathed and changed into real clothes, skipping over the elaborate dresses in favor of the spare black jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt you packed. 

You left your bedroom to head to the living room but stopped at Leon's door adjacent to yours. 

You were curious about what his room looked like, and rightfully so. He was rather serious, not letting off much about his personal side. Even while working, other agents, like Jill Valentine, had more outward displays of self-identity. 

You wondered what the man behind the agent's identity was like, But you respectfully kept walking.

Typically, you're not overly curious about your cohorts, But people like Leon and Jill lived through the same tragedy you did. You often felt alone in your pain, But you found a sliver of comfort in knowing that you, in fact, were not.

You flipped through the very detailed notes Leon had taken. He explained the parasite they intended to use for "world domination," the pecking order amongst the rulers, detailed maps of the castle, and whatever else he found out. 

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

"Hey, wake up," Leon said gently, nudging your shoulder. 

You woke up sitting on the floor, arms crossed and body hunched over the coffee table. 

Through blurry vision, you saw Leon beside you, wearing a fancy white dress shirt and a tie loose around his neck. 

"What time is it?" You mumbled, sitting up to stretch out your very numb legs. 

"Late—I got back about an hour ago, I made dinner if you're hungry."

Leon reached out a hand, and you took it. Grunting as he helped you up.

"Yeah, I am," You replied, your stomach grumbling.

You sat at the dining table with Leon. He prepared grilled veggies and chicken for dinner, which was surprisingly good. 

"How'd it go," you asked between bites. 

"Fine, everything is going according to plan. We're all set for tomorrow," Leon replied,

"What exactly are we doing tomorrow?" you raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you saw those dresses in your room. You'll have to wear one, but it's easy from there. You'll stay quiet and follow my lead. You'll have to act like my girlfriend. But it will also be a good time to familiarize yourself with the castle and, you know, memorize the layout." 

Leon took a sip of wine and offered you a gentle look, "Are you okay with that?"

You replied, "Of course I am. It's a pretty small price to pay to take these fuckers down." You flashed a cheeky grin before taking a sip of your wine. "We got this."

You continued to talk over dinner, going back and forth and sharing each other's backgrounds. You told Leon about your experience in Raccoon City— what had happened and how you'd escaped it. 

But for you, It was surreal hearing about Leon's involvement in the incident. Hearing about the people he saved, the enemies he took down, and the sacrifices he made were… Comforting. 

Comforting to know someone else could actually relate to you. 

Comforting to know there is hope.

You know there are scars deep below the surface—you know that from experience. But meeting someone who still cares so much about helping others proves that those wounds do, in fact, heal.

You and Leon cleaned up the kitchen before saying goodnight and heading to your rooms for the night.

You lay in your plush bed, unable to sleep. Your mind is whirring with a frenzy of emotions. Your conversation with Leon is still sinking in. The nerves concerning tomorrow's mission stake their claim. 

It's okay. It's okay.

You try to soothe yourself. Suppress whatever unreconciled emotions were brought up.

Just finish the mission.

— PART II —

A beautifully lavish Victorian-style ball gown adorned your body. It has a flowing tiered skirt constructed from deep, blood-red satin. The bodice was corseted tightly to your abdomen, pushing your breasts up so that they are nearly spilling out of the gown's low square neckline. The quarter sleeves fit tightly but poof out at your elbows with frilly lace. The whole ensemble is accented with black bows and delicate lacework.

You watched yourself in the vanity mirror as you carefully pinned your hair up. Enchanted by the unfamiliar person the mirror reflected back.

This wasn't you. But a princess.

A princess who has never killed or witnessed the mass extinction of innocent people. A princess who didn't have to give up her normal life against her will.

Although seeing yourself dressed up like the beautiful person you'll never be was strange. But maybe, battle-scarred government agents could wear pretty dresses, sometimes.

With your hair set in place, you head to the living room, where you are met by Leon in an equally uncharacteristic outfit.

He took in your appearance, a smile decorating his face. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

You filled the silence instead. "You look nice." You spoke softly.

He did look nice.

Leon wore a billowy white shirt with ruffles along the neckline. The plunging neckline had a small corset-style detail, and it was tucked into a pair of perfectly fitted black trousers.

Simple, but effectively good-looking. The fit of his clothes came off as rich and a little romantic. Well suited for a band of vampires.

"As do you," Leon said, voice deep and restricted.

You hid your face by looking down at your shoes, concealing the growing flush along your cheeks. "Thank you." You said in almost a whisper.

"Are you ready?" he asked, offering his arm to you.

You nod in affirmation and thread your arm through his.

Leon led you through a little stone path through the woods. At this time, it was only about an hour before dusk.

The combination of winter woods and the near-setting sun created an image of beautiful calm. If you were to let your mind wander, It would feel like you were on a date, taking a stroll through the forest.

"I told you these cultists were sick bastards, right?" Leon said too casually.

You nod, "Yes, you definitely mentioned that."

The dense woods begin to clear, and the path leads to a small village. At the horizon, the pointed spikes of a grand castle make a lethal appearance. You take it all in, honing yourself into a covert weapon. Descending into this "character" of unexpected harm.

"And you understand that how I'll behave tonight is all a part of the act?" Leon asks for your assurance one last time before entering the village.

Your heels land on the cobblestone that had been cleared of snow. The warm glow of the town's candlelight radiates as the sun begins to set.

Making brief eye contact with a villager, you squeeze Leon's arm a little tighter and murmur, "I could say the same to you, my lord." A wicked smile now painted your face.

Leon whispered lowly, "Glad to see you're committed to the bit."

As a pair, you two walked through the town's main pathway, a straight shot to the looming castle ahead. You noted that the townspeople were off. 

Very, very off.

They behaved more like mindless zombies than people; their eyes glowed crimson red. Most of them just walked by idly, with no sense of purpose. Others stood hauntingly still, staring at you so intensely you felt it in your soul.

Even the farm animals that lingered on the streets were off. They walked erratically, and their eyes glowed, too.

This place gave you the creeps. Typical Umbrella.

Reaching the castle at last— It demanded your attention with its many oversized spires and massive arched windows. Light flowed red through the stained glass, adding to its intensity.

The snow-covered graveyard and cross-tipped spires informed you this wasn't just a castle but an unholy cathedral.

You had to walk through the graveyard to reach the entrance. You noted the tombstones engraved with outdated French names and dates as far back as the 1800s. It all added to the ancient terror surrounding the looming cathedral.

Upon arriving, the massive arched door began to creak open, and a man clad in a dark red suit greeted the two of you with a thick French accent. "Good evening, Sir Kennedy. We are so very pleased that you and your-" he paused, a sly smile forming, "madame, could make it."

Leon did not reply to the doorman.

He walked past with his head held high and eyes peering downwards. His look emanated superiority as if he had no interest in conversation with a man so far below him.

Leon grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, guiding you up the curved stairs that dominated the foyer.

You passed servants who wore simple, white, floor-length dresses with aprons and bonnets. Each servant stopped in their tracks to bow their head as you, he, walked past.

The action sent chills down your spine.

What was the true extent of power he reached in this so-called monarchy?

You arrived at a grand arched doorway swirled with ornamental gold detailing. Two men opened the doors in unison, letting you through.

Elegant music flooded the huge open ballroom. Orchestral pianos and violins serenaded your ears.

People waltzed, people drank wine, people talked, and the vampires watched.

On the dais, the looming darkness of men sitting on ornate thrones watched the every move of the people below.

Every seat was occupied except for one.

Everything suddenly stopped. The music went silent, and the people parted, bowing their heads down.

Slowly, you two approached the dais, Standing hand in hand at the steps. The man who sat in the centermost seat smiled devilishly. "Glad you could make it, Lord Kennedy." His French accent was thick.

Leon bowed his head. "Of course, your majesty."

"Why would you want to miss a ball as extravagant, as special, as this one, anyways? Lord Kennedy, we wouldn't want to disappoint our guest, wouldn't we?"

The Lord ticked an eyebrow, reaching a pale, lanky hand to you.

Leon's breath seized but quickly relaxed as he let go of your hand, hinting for you to accept.

You gracefully walked the steps, rhythmically breathing in and out to offset the heavy heartbeat that accompanied each step. The air loomed cold and silent as the echoes of your footsteps filled the hall.

The King was pale as fresh snow, with icy blue veins protruding from his skin. His eyes were glowing red, and long black hair cascaded down his shoulders to his chest. He wore an ornate gold, black, and red suit and a crown topped his head. He looked as if he was once very handsome, but now, he is not so good-looking.

You rested your hand on him, avoiding eye contact. His freezing touch sent a shiver through you.

The King lowered his head and placed a prolonged kiss on the back of your hand. His left hand grabbed your upper arm, turning it so your wrist faced upward. He ran his fingers down your arm, resting on your wrist. A devilish grin formed on his thin lips, presumably from the pleasure in whatever he found in you.

His head raised, but his hand remained fixed on your wrist. You made eye contact this time. His gleaming eyes burrowing into yours.

You could feel your hot blood running against his cold touch. Your pulse filled the silence of the too-quiet ballroom. You wanted to run, but not without a fight, and get out of this Umbrella Corporation daymare.

"Ma chérie," he whispered into your skin.

There is no running. No fighting. Today, you must pretend.

Leon stood beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist, his eyes dark, looking down at the still-seated King.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Leon asked rhetorically, a bite in his tone.

The Lord laughed, releasing your hand.

"No need to be so overbearing, Leon. N'aie pas peur. Please sit and join your fellow nobility."

The last empty chair was his. You scanned the other taken thrones. Some of the men were already turned, marked distinctively by glowing, crimson eyes and a lifeless complexion.

Although some, like Leon, had not yet been turned.

From your reading the previous day, you learned that in the eyes of the cult immortality was a privilege, not a right. They believed one must earn that privilege by dedicated service to the organization before even being considered.

Leon took a seat, relaxing on his throne. You stood beside him awkwardly, not entirely knowing what to do. But, with a tap at your side, you figured it out.

You perched on Leon's lap, your billowy dress flowing over his legs and spilling like blood onto the marble floor. He wrapped a hand around your corseted abdomen, and the other rested in your lap.

Your heart raced a little harder.

"You must be in need of a drink." The King asked.

"Some music would be nice, too," Leon said with a scoff loud enough for musicians on the floor to hear.

The music resumed, and again, the bowing people began dancing. Still, it was finally replaced by the movement and energy of song and dance.

One of the white dress servants arrived with two glasses full of red wine upon a silver platter. Leon made no effort to grab them, so you took them both, passing one off to him.

Leon pressed his lips up to your ear, "drink up, baby," he whispered.

You almost forgot— even your whispers could be herd by the immortal's keen hearing. Every thing that was said, even in a murmur, had to be in line.

It was strange to hear him talk like that, but admittedly you weren't bothered. Although the closeness was unexpected, It's been a long time since you were this close to someone. It had been a year? Maybe two? Since you were at all intimate with another person.

It felt good. He radiated warmth, his touch was gentle, and his handsomeness unmatched.

You downed your glass while Leon sipped on his. His scanning eyes watched the crowd, occasionally flickering back to the King but always ending on you.

He admired as your painted lips caressed the edge of the fine crystal wine glass and how your throat bobbed with each drink.

He called for a refill and demanded more, which the servants promptly fulfilled, And they kept it coming. After every glass you two emptied, they refilled.

Amongst themselves, Leon and the vampire Lords talked about courtly business. and as they talked, Leon's large hands ran down your leg, pulling up your skirt, and exposing up to your knee.

They were talking about war, and all rather intense subject matters. But Leon's hand kept working higher up your legs. Petting and caressing every bit of exposed skin. The King couldn't look away, neither could the other lords, or even the people below.

He used you as a spectacle, to assert his dominance, and power over the rest of the court, and it worked. The commoners were afraid of him, and the lords respected him. He mastered the facade of villainous superiority that belittled all in its path. One that possessed his lover entirely and wanted the world to know it.

His lavish touch across your legs, mixed with the headiness of the wine, brought you to a euphoric state. Coaxed by his affection, you can't help but submit.

Your back arched into his abdomen, yearning for more touch. You could not recall any of the words spoken around you, only the ecstasy of his lips meeting your neck. A soft whisper of a kiss was all he gave you, but your breathing hitched, and your body heated.

You were damned. Damned for liking it as much as you did.

He paused for a moment. Only a minute's break in time, and he still left you internally begging like a dog.

"My, my, what a statement you're making, Lord Kennedy. You plan on sharing?" The King taunted, practically drooling at your bare, pawing legs.

You spoke for the first time the entire night, causing every member of the court's head (that wasn't already) to turn.

"No."

You shot an arrow through the King's fragile pride.

The King's lip twitched. "What a defiant whore you managed to fish up."

Leon laughed, grinning wildly, "Oh, well, you should see how well she obeys me." He patted your thigh in approval, placing an absolutely panty-drenching kiss along your neck.

The King rolled his eyes, but lords couldn't hide their amusement as they stifled back laughter.

Leon rested his knuckle under your chin, "Go on, my love, apologize."

The King retorted snappily, "There's no need for that."

Thank God.

You took an extra large drink of wine to ease the tension, falling back into Leon's warm chest.

They continued on as if nothing ever happened, talking about things you knew nothing about.

Leon listened, cool and aloof, but his hands satiated your need. He resumed the game of inching higher up your leg. His warm fingers trace dizzying circles along your inner thigh.

His calloused fingers felt rough and masculine against your velvet soft skin. He squeezed your thigh, accidentally eliciting a lusty whimper from you.

"You like that, don't you, pretty girl?" Leon's breath grazed along your neck, his lips taunting you mere centimeters away from your bare skin.

You pressed your back into the hardness of his body, a needy and desperate attempt for more—more of his lavish touch. You didn't even care who saw.

You turned a cheek, sharing Leon's darkened, sultry gaze. The usual warmth in his pale blue eyes was totally vacant. He observed you like prey, nothing more than a deer in the crosshairs.

The hand that rested on your waist dragged up to your face and cupped your jaw, his thumb petting your lip, transferring your red lipstick to his skin.

His grip on your thigh intensified, digging hard into your skin. Your lips parted with a soft gasp, and your legs opened wider in response to his touch.

Hunter and hunted.

Leon bit his lip as he slid his finger into your mouth. Your lips puckered pretty around his finger, and Leon watched in feral attraction as you teased him with the tip of your tongue. You oozed confidence and sultry submission, letting your doe eyes do the talking.

The lines between the act and reality truly blurred.

The way he touched you felt too real, too right. You craved more than just the teasing.

As if in an answer, Leon's hands migrated lower and lower down your abdomen. Finally, working to where you craved most. But, he couldn't find the proof of how good he made you feel. Your soaking wet underwear would be damning to your case.

In a desperate attempt, you arched your back, attempting to pull yourself away from his wandering touch. In turn, you could feel the unmistakable hardness in his pants pressing against your back.

Oh, he wanted you too. At this stage, you both should just be condemned.

The on-lookers watched from below as you pressed into Leon's length. You ground yourself against him. Your skin glowed with sweat, and strands of hair were falling from your updo and swept around your face.

There were no secrets in the way you felt; you practically radiated sex, intimacy, and everything in between.

One of Leon's hands dragged up your body and grasped your ribcage directly under your breast. The other rested on your collarbones. He pulled your ear to his lips and whispered, "Don't let it go to your head."

You swallowed, heart racing. "What?"

Leon's arrogant grin now pressed against your ear. "That every man in this room is imagining themselves in my place. Don't forget that you belong to me, darling."

"I would never-" You were cut short by Leon's grip tightening around your abdomen.

"Don't patronize me," he demanded, but his white-knuckle grip loosened and transformed into apologetic strokes down your side.

"Yes, my lord." Sweet and submissive.

The King seemed to approve, as marked by an appraising nod he shared with Leon.

A servant walked by, head hung low, and Leon's voice cracked like thunder. "Wine, now." Pure demand in his voice.

You drank the seemingly bottomless glasses of wine Leon ordered. You should have stopped, but you drank on to avoid any unfavorable conversations.

Tonight, you learned that French vampires love to drink.

The night grew late-- You, Leon, and the other Lords were drunker than sailors. Conversations of importance were divulged into off-topic chit-chat and banter. The people below slow-danced to the soft ballads that hummed through the castle.

It was a struggle to stay awake. All the wine, the music, the expectations, the teasing. It tired you out. Your head lay in Leon's chest, soaking up his sent-- Open sky and rugged woods. Your dainty hands gracefully stroked his exposed chest, painting little circles, occasionally your hands reached up to play with his pretty blonde hair. Leon languidly stroked your arm, head resting lazily to the side.

Leon sat up, shifting you with him, and cleared his throat, "My king, It's been a pleasure, but we should head back now."

"Why don't you just say the night? I would hate to see your poor madame walk all the way back to your... Maison, this late."

You and Leon exchanged a look; you weren't exactly sure if he had accounted for this in his plan. Your eyebrows threaded together, a look of annoyance and confusion, but Leon quickly turned away.

"What a hospitable offer, your highness." He responded eloquently. He knew that someone who was actually in his place would never reject an offer like that.

"It's the least I can do for you, Lord Kennedy; after all, you've been so dedicated to our cause." A sly villain-like smirk formed on the King's lips.

Leon politely bowed his head in acknowledgment.

The King snapped his fingers, and without an exchange of words, a servant was at the throne you and Leon shared.

You both stood up and followed her, hand in hand.

You passed by the other Lords still seated along the dais. Their prowling eyes raked your body as you walked by. Leon was right; you were in everyone's minds. Stripped bare and doing unspeakable things to them.

It repulsed you to be thirsted over by depraved vampire lords, but in some sacrilegious facet of your mind, you were flattered by it. You even walked in a way that accentuated your hips, teasing them just a little more.

You were just passing the King's throne when suddenly someone grabbed your arm. It was the King who had implored his icy hand around your arm, pulling you into him. You gasped as he bent you over the armrest of his throne and placed a kiss on your cheek. "Bonne nuit, ma chérie" He whispered in your ear.

He activated your desire to fight back; you wanted to place your hands around the scrawny King's neck and kill him right there. You could without any resistance, too.

But, you suppressed your urge. Sweet and submissive, you told yourself. You already got yourself in enough trouble with your previous stunt, best not to ruin it now.

"Goodnight, your Highness," you muttered back as dainty and feminine as you could manage.

The King released you, and as you took a step back, you were in Leon's chest; his arms were quick to wrap around you, like a knight in shining armor waiting for his princess.

As you left the dais, the people of the ballroom once again stopped dancing, and bowed as you and Leon walked through, escorted by the servant.

She showed you to your room, opened the door, bowed, and left promptly.

The room was entirely white and gold, similar in design to the rest of the castle, but featuring a giant bed in the middle of the room with a canopy of pooling gauzy fabric.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you whispered once the door was closed behind you.

Leon rubbed the temples of his forehead as if he had a headache, "I'm not sure. I didn't expect him to want us to stay the night."

You looked around the room, unsure of what to do now. "Should we escape?"

Leon peaked his head out the window, surveying the area, "That's an option, but risky," he muttered. "It would blow our cover when they inevitably found us gone. The plan was to kill the nobility a few days from now, on the full moon. That's when they're planning on turning one of the human lords immortal."

"Why does it have to be then? Can't it just be now? They're all drunk and lounging around, for God's sake!" You accidentally raised your voice, and Leon shushed you by pressing his finger to your lips.

"When they turn someone immortal, they have to use the parasite... The plan is to steal the parasite during the ceremony and then kill them. We need to bring it back to America so it can be studied.

But, I haven't been able to find where they store them; as far as I'm aware, only the King knows. That's why I've been waiting for the ceremony."

"So... We stay?" you said defeatedly.

"Unfortunately."

You looked around the room, rummaging through the wardrobe and the various drawers throughout. Everything was empty except for the Holy Bible in a desk drawer.

"You can have the bed, I'll take the couch." Leon offered kicking off his boots before sitting on the small white and gold couch.

"That couch is so small, you can have the bed." You tried to negotiate.

"No, no, it's all yours. I've slept on much worse than this." He said, stretching his legs out along the couch. It was too short for him, so his feet dangled off the armrest.

You sighed; there's no point in arguing.

"Well, I can't sleep in this dress. It weighs about 20lbs, and it's too damn hot."

"There was no spare clothes?" Leon asked.

"Nope."

Leon looked around the room, eyebrows stitched together in thought, before he resolved, "You can have my shirt."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, It's no trouble at all, really."

Leon remained where he was on the couch, eyes closed.

You stood on the other side of the room, fumbling with the corseting on your dress, unable to unlace it. "How the hell did I even get this on earlier?" you mumbled to yourself.

Leon's eyes perked open, watching you struggle. He cleared his throat, "Do you need help with that?"

You didn't answer but still struggled.

Leon took it upon himself to help you. He walked over and began unlacing the many rows of tight lacing along the back of your dress.

"Thank you," you said so very quietly.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier, I—"

You cut him off, "Don't—You don't have to apologize. I understand, truly."

Silence loomed over the room, and only the sound of fabric rustling filled the void. You tried to find the right words to say, but you came up empty-handed.

Leon reached the last eyelet, and you held the gown at the bust so it wouldn't fall off. Although you admittedly wouldn't mind if it did.

Your back was entirely exposed to him, only inches away from pressing against his chest. Your mind slipped— what if you took a step back? Let him do what you want him to do. Let him explore your body even more than he did earlier.

His strong hands could surely do a lot, and his pretty blonde hair would look great between your legs—

God damn.

Leon broke your silent daydream by taking off his white-ruffled shirt. He handed it off to you at your side, gentlemen-like.

He meandered back to the couch, resuming his position of outstretched legs along the cushions, closing his eyes.

You checked over your shoulder to ensure his eyes were closed, and then you let your dress fall to the ground.

You dawned Leon's shirt. The cottony fabric felt soft against your skin and smelled overwhelming like him, rugged and masculine.

In the mirror, you watched yourself let down your updo, letting your hair fall and combing it out with your fingers. Here is where you noticed that Leon's shirt is just a little too sheer.

The outline of your silhouette was vaguely noticeable through his airy shirt, but your nipples were definitely visible.

Oh well.

You folded up the gown and placed it at the foot of the bed atop the quilted velvet ottoman. You were about to get into bed before peaking one more glance at Leon.

He was statuesque in the way his body stretched along the couch. He had a hand atop his very defined abs, and his other arm dangled off the couch.

The faint blueish hue of the moon illuminated him in gentle light, it was the only light in the room, save for the single lit candle next to the bed.

Leon was so pretty in the way he slept. He looked so at peace, so beautiful, and so kissable.

It pained you to not invite him to your bed; maybe in another lifetime, you would have.

But you certainly could not let him sleep without a blanket or a pillow.

You peeled off the first blanket layer of your bed, grabbed one of the many over-filled pillows, and tiptoed to where Leon rested.

Gently, you set a folded blanket on the foot of Leon's bed, causing him to open his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Leon's mumble trailed off into a yawn.

You whispered, "I don't want you to get cold, so I'm giving you some of my blankets."

Leon smiled faintly. "Oh, I see…" he trailed off and then added, "Thanks for that."

You looked pretty; your hair and makeup were a mess but in all the right ways.

Leon noticed how pretty you were. How pretty you were in his shirt, with nothing else underneath.

"I hope this is enough for you."

"Yes, it's more than enough," he reassured.

"I'm going to head to my bed then, goodnight Leon."

He didn't show it, and you would never know it, but he loved how you said his name.

"Goodnight to you, too."

In that moment, time stood still. You couldn't walk away. You wanted to bask in the shared space of each other's gazes, bound by lust. Leon, too, made no attempt to break away.

You'll probably regret it later, but there is no harm in trying, right?

Instead of leaving, you bent down as if to pick something up, but you stopped when you reached his ear.

"Leon..." You whispered quietly.

"Yes?"

Your heartbeat raced so fast it felt like it was gonna jump out of your chest. "Do you really want me to go?"

Leon paused, raking his mind for the correct answer. "No."

He turned his head, pressing his forehead to yours, and resting his hand on the back of your neck, running his fingers through your hair.

"I didn't want to either," you said breathily.

He smiled and kissed you. The first real kiss you shared. It felt like a wave of warmth crashing down your body, every one of your instincts telling you yes. His lips were soft and gentle against your own.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Leon whispered into the kiss.

You replied, "Me neither."

Leon pulled you by your waist, sitting you on top of him, and deepened the kiss by grazing his tongue against yours. He tasted purely of wine.

Your hands ran desperately through Leon's hair as his hands caressed your ribcage down to your hips. His grasp settled onto your waist, stroking his thumbs along your ribs. You playfully bit his lip, praising the way he touched you.

Leon's lips broke away from yours, and they began to press small kisses down your cheek, and then your neck, and then your chest. Every single one felt like pure ecstasy against your skin.

Your arms wrapped around Leon's neck as you arched your back, pressing your chest deeper into his kiss. His grasp along your waist tightened with your movement.

He was aching and so hard in the confined trousers he still wore; Leon rocked you against himself while he made out with your chest.

You moaned with gasping breaths at the feeling of him rutting into you, your head falling back carelessly.

Leon's hand met the spots he kissed, dancing along the wet skin of your chest. His wandering fingers teased the outer edge of the shirt you wore, wanting to pull it down. His lips followed down the V of the shirt, But before he could do anything more, you raised your arms, slipping the shirt over your head.

You were entirely exposed to him, save for your underwear. Leon thanked you by pressing kisses along your pretty breasts, thumbs twirling around your hardened nipples. His lips met where his thumbs danced, puckering his lips around your nipples, stroking and sucking them with his tongue.

You gasped, nearly at the edge of becoming undone. Leon worshipped your breasts like his own personal deity, letting out low, strained moans.

You lost all sense of control, grinding yourself into Leon's bulging lap, getting off at the sensation of his cock twitching for you.

"More," You moaned as Leon released the suck on your nipple with a wet-sounding smack.

You pressed down on Leon's chest, pushing him into the couch.

God, you looked so lovely and desperate from Leon's perspective.

Your hands slipped between your legs, resting on the bulge that strained between them. You caressed him through the fabric, teasing him with a pouty smirk.

Leon's mouth gaped slightly, sucking in a breath as he watched you adore him. You nimbly unbuttoned his pants, pulling down the zipper.

Leon sat up and pushed you back so your legs wrapped around his waist. He stood up, picking you up with ease, and walked you to the bed, gently resting you onto the fortress of overstuffed pillows.

He took off his trousers before joining you, his protruding cock making a tent in his underwear.

"You're beautiful," Leon fawned at your figure before bending down to kiss your thighs. "I loved touching your legs earlier, darling," he added.

You're fully melting at his sugar-covered affections.

You sat up, taking Leon's head in your delicate hands with a devouring kiss. You pulled him back, so he laid on top of you. One of his arms embraced you, and the other brushed between your legs.

His fingers toyed with you, sweetly caressing you through your soaked underwear. You moaned into the kiss as Leon began tracing small circles over the fabric. His hands then nuzzled beneath your underwear, meeting your aching sex fully.

His calloused fingers lapped your cunt, but ended on your clit, circling it gently. You broke from his kiss, head arching back from the intensity of pleasure you felt. Leon licked his lips as he watched you fold under him. Leon tugged off your underwear, deepening your pleasure as he rubbed his fingers around your opening.

Your hands, in desperate need of touch, caressed the expanse of Leon's amazingly defined torso. It alone killed you, the sheer strength he possessed. He was trained into a lethal weapon, but man, did he feel so good.

From Leon's torso, you ventured lower, tugging at the waistband of his underwear. Leon's gaze met your begging doe eyes, pleading him for more.

With your help, he pulled off his underwear, releasing his pretty, throbbing cock. Your hand softly wrapped around his length, petting him slowly. Leon's breath hitched as you did so.

You wrapped a leg around Leon's waist, pulling yourself up to straddle him. Perched on his lap, you rested your soaking cunt onto the length of his cock. Leon's hands dug into your hips, grinding his himself against your folds.

"Leon," you gasped, soaking in the feeling of him beneath you.

He moaned, hungrily watching the way your bodies met.

He sat up, pressing his chest against your stomach, and pressed kisses along your breasts. As he did so, he lifted you up by the waist, giving himself just enough space to push his length into you.

Loudly, you whimpered as his length filled your entire cunt. You bounced yourself on Leon as he sucked your nipples.

Leon released you from his mouth, lying back down, fingers digging into your upper thighs as he fucked himself into you hard. Letting his entire length fill you up before pulling back.

You couldn't help your hopeless cries and moans as his pace picked up, fucking you like the world depended on it. Maybe it did.

You were a few forceful pumps away from reaching your peak, and as you forced yourself into him even deeper, Leon lifted you up by the waist, off of him.

Dazed, you whined, "Why."

He only responded by nudging you over onto your hands and knees, spreading your legs wide for himself.

Leon's cock pressed at your entrance while his hand toyed with your clit, teasing you. He so very slowly pushed himself in, making you feel every inch of his length as he entered you.

"Just like that," he hushed under a moan and then rammed his cock into you, building up speed, fucking you faster and faster.

Your nails dug into the bed sheets, reaching for something that does not exist. Leon smacked your ass with a deep moan as his tip reached even deeper inside of you.

The only noise filling the room was the sound of your skin clapping against his and your shared feverish moans.

"You feel so good," you cooed, pawing at the sheets. "I don't think I can last much longer."

He slowed down his pace, pulling his cock almost entirely out of you before inching himself back in. "You can last just a little longer for me, pretty girl."

"Okay, yes, please just fuck me harder," you pleaded. Grinding yourself on his length, desperate for more than he was giving.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Leon groaned and fucked you so hard that the bed was shaking back and forth. His arm reached up from behind, grasping your neck in his hand. He was hunched over you, fingers squeezing your jaw as he plunged deeper and faster.

His teeth were clenched, and his breath was fast as he burrowed his throbbing cock so far into your cunt that you came completely undone, crying his name as you rode your climax out.

"Leon, Leon, Leon," you cried as your wetness dripped down his leg.

Leon's breath seized as he pulled himself out of you, resting his cock on the small of your back, spilling hot all over your skin.

His grasp loosened, trailing down your neck. His head rested on your back, reeling himself back from his climax.

You rested your body, splaying yourself along the bed. Leon got off of you and frantically looked around the room for something to wipe your back with. He settled on the blanket you had left for him on the couch, thinking to himself, their problem, not mine.

"Thanks," you giggled as he cleaned you off.

He crawled into bed, tucking into the massive billowy covers, and you did the same. You blew out the single candle next to the bedside, leaving only moonlight to douse the room.

Leon opened up his arm, beckoning you into his embrace.

You cuddled him, soaking up his scent and his warmth. All while relishing in the tingling euphoria your body felt.

"Goodnight, for real?" Leon said quietly, sleep heavy in his voice.

"Goodnight, for real, Leon." Your heavy lids shut, falling into sleep.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You wake up on Leon's chest to a knock at the door. The morning sun singed the pounding headache induced by last night's wine-filled activities.

Leon woke up, too, wincing and rubbing his temples. He got out of bed, pulling on his underwear and pants.

Leon's hair was a disheveled mess, and the remnants of your lipstick still stained his neck and his cheek. He answered the door to one of the servants standing there.

She bowed, her thick French accent trembling. "Lord Kennedy, I apologize if I interrupted, but the king wants a word with you."

"Can you show me to the bath first? You can't seriously expect me to talk to him looking like this?" he sounded harsh, and you almost forgot about the character he had to play.

Her voice trembled. "Yes, of course, sir. Not that you look bad, but yes, I'll show you to the bath."

"And her too," the servant peaked her head through the doorway, under the arm that Leon propped himself up with, and saw you, sitting up in bed, covering your naked body with the duvet.

She immediately ducked back in line, "Yes, of course." she bowed her head once more.

Leon tossed you his shirt, which was lying on the ground beside the couch. Quickly put it on, and with a motion of his hand, Leon summoned you to him.

You acted shy, meekly hiding behind Leon.

"Follow me, My lord," The servant hushed, trailing you two down the hallway.

As you tiptoed down the hall, you were barefoot and more exposed than you cared to be. It felt slightly embarrassing, but there was no point in caring now, was there? At least you found amusement in a shirtless Leon.

The servant guided Leon to a bathroom for himself. She signaled him in with her hand while her head was low.

Before he entered, he added, looking down at the servant. "And get her a new dress, she can't go out looking like that... And she wouldn't be caught dead wearing her evening dress during the day, would she?" Leon sounded like an absolute asshole, but that was somehow amusing.

"Yes, my lord," She bowed for the 100th time.

He entered the bathing room, closing the door behind him, and the servant showed you to another bathroom.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You bathed in a massive clawfoot tub, sweet floral soap washing off all the makeup and memories of last night.

You were not sure how to even feel about last night. You'd never slept with a coworker before; you barely sleep with anyone anymore. Is this going to make things awkward when you leave? Or are you to pretend nothing happened at all?

A servant knocked on the door, interrupting your silent pondering before letting herself in. She quietly hung a pretty cream-colored Victorian gown hanging behind the door.

"Madame, Lord Kennedy is speaking with the King. He has asked you to wait while they finish up. We prepared breakfast for you in the dining room in case they go long. When you're ready, the dining room is down the stairs and to the left."

Who are you kidding, there are more pressing issues ahead; you're bathing and being fed in a vampire cult's castle for God's sake.

"Thank you," you said sweetly.

The servant promptly left the bathroom with a bow.

Soon, you will eliminate these vile creatures and leave. You just have to tough it out a little longer. One more day of acting like a mild-tempered little plaything, and this will all be over.

part two coming soon xx

#thank you for reading <3 #i've been so nervous to post this eek #i hope you like it #academy fics✨ #throne of his own #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy fanfic

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BUFFY READING LIST

As promised @possession1981 and I have compiled a list of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and Angel) related academic text and books. I think this is a good starting point for both a long time fan and for someone just getting into the show, or just someone interested in vampire lore. I have included several books about the vampire lore and myth in general as well. Most of these are available online.

BOOKS

Fighting the Forces: What's at Stake in Buffy the Vampire Slayer; edited by Rhonda V. Wilcox & David Lavery

Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Philosophy - Fear and Trembling in Sunnydale by James B. South

Buffy Goes Dark: Essays on the Final Two Seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Television, edited by Lynne Y. Edwards, Elizabeth L. Rambo & James B. South

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Myth, Metaphor and Morality by Mark Field

Televised Morality: The Case of Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Gregory Stevenson

Undead TV: Essays on Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Elana Levine

The Aesthetics of Culture in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Matthew Pateman

Girls Who Bite Back: Witches, Mutants, Slayers and Freaks by Emily Pohl-Weary

Why Buffy Matters: The Art of Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Ronda Wilcox

Into Every Generation a Slayer Is Born: How Buffy Staked Our Hearts by Evan Ross Katz

The Lure of the Vampire: Gender, Fiction, and Fandom from Bram Stoker to Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Milly Williamson

Blood Relations: Chosen Families in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel by Jes Battis

Sex and the Slayer: A Gender Studies Primer for the Buffy Fan by Lorna Jowett

Diseases of the Head: Essays on the Horrors of Speculative Philosophy; edited by Matt Rosen (chapter 2 Death of Horror)

Public Privates: Feminist Geographies of Mediated Spaces by Marcia R. England (chapter 1 Welcome to the Hellmouth: Paradoxical Spaces in Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Open Graves, Open Minds: Representations of Vampires and the Undead From the Enlightenment to the Present Day; edited by Sam George and Bill Hughes (chapter 8 ‘I feel strong. I feel different’: transformations, vampires and language in Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

The Contemporary Television Series; edited by Michael Hammond and Lucy Mazdon (chapter 9 Television, Horror and Everyday Life in Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Joss Whedon and Race: Critical Essays; edited by Mary Ellen Iatropoulos and Lowery A. Woodall III

Buffy and the Heroine's Journey: Vampire Slayer as Feminine Chosen One by Valerie Estelle Frankel

The Existential Joss Whedon: Evil and Human Freedom in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly and Serenity by J. Michael Richardson and J. Douglas Rabb

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 20 Years of Slaying: The Watcher's Guide Authorized by Christopher Golden

Reading the Vampire Slayer: The Complete, Unofficial Guide to 'Buffy' and 'Angel' by Roz Kaveney

Hollywood Vampire: The Unnoficial Guide to Angel by Keith Topping

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Monster Book by Christopher Golden

Slayer Slang: A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Lexicon by Michael Adams

What Would Buffy Do? The Vampire Slayer as Spiritual Guide by Jana Riess

ARTICLES, PAPERS ETC.

Bibliographic Good vs. Evil in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by GraceAnne A. DeCandido

Undead Letters: Searches and Researches in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by William Wandless

Weaponised information: The role of information and metaphor in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Jacob Ericson

Buffy, Dark Romance and Female Horror Fans by Lorna Jowett

My Vampire Boyfriend: Postfeminism, "Perfect" Masculinity, and the Contemporary Appeal of Paranormal Romance by Ananya Mukherjea

Buffy, The Vampire Slayer as Spectacular Allegory: A Diagnostic Critique by Douglas Kellner

"Buffy the Vampire Slayer": Technology, Mysticism, and the Constructed Body by Sara Raffel

When Horror Becomes Human: Living Conditions in "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" by Jeroen Gerrits

Post-Vampire: The Politics of Drinking Humans and Animals in "Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight", and "True Blood" by Laura Wright

Cops, Teachers, and Vampire Slayers: Buffy as Street-Level Bureaucrat by Andrea E. Mayo

"Not Like Other Men"?: The Vampire Body in Joss Whedon's "Angel" by Lorna Jowett

Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the Domestic Church: Revisioning Family and the Common Good by Reid B. Locklin

“Buffy vs. Dracula”’s Use of Count Famous (Not drawing “crazy conclusions about the unholy prince”) by Tara Elliott

A Little Less Ritual and a Little More Fun: The Modern Vampire in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Stacey Abbott

Undressing the Vampire: An Investigation of the Fashion of Sunnydale’s Vampires by Robbie Dale

"And Yet": The Limits of Buffy Feminism by Renee St. Louis & Miriam Riggs

Meet the Cullens: Family, Romance and Female Agency in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Twilight by Kirsten Stevens

Bliss and Time: Death, Drugs, and Posthumanism in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Rob Cover

That Girl: Bella, Buffy, and the Feminist Ethics of Choice in Twilight and Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Catherine Coker

A Slayer Comes to Town: An Essay on Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Scott Westerfeld 

Undead Objects of a “Queer Gaze” : A Visual Approach to Buffy’s Vampires Using Lacan’s Extended RSI Model by Marcus Recht

When You Kiss Me, I Want to Die: Gothic Relationships and Identity on Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Ananya Mukherjeea

Necrophilia and SM: The Deviant Side of Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Terry L. Spaise

Queering the Bitch: Spike, Transgression and Erotic Empowerment by Dee Amy-Chinn

“I Want To Be A Macho Man”: Examining Rape Culture, Adolescent Female Sexuality, and the Destabilization of Gender Binaries in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Angelica De Vido

Staking Her Claim: Buffy the Vampire Slayer as Transgressive Woman Warrior by Frances H. Early

Actualizing Abjection: Drusilla, the Whedonversees’ Queen of Queerness by Anthony Stepniak

“Life Isn’t A Story”: Xander, Andrew and Queer Disavowal in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Steven Greenwood

S/He’s a Rebel: The James Dean Trope in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Kathryn Hill

“Once More, with Feeling”: Emotional Self-Discipline in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Gwynnee Kennedy and Jennifer Dworshack-Kinter

“The Hardest Thing in This World Is To Live In It”: Identity and Mental Health in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Alex Fixler

"Love's Bitch But Man Enough to Admit It": Spikes Hybridized Gender by Arwen Spicer

Negotiations After Hegemony: Buffy and Gender by Franklin D. Worrell

Double Trouble: Gothic Shadows and Self-Discovery in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Elizabeth Gilliland

'What If I'm Still There? What If I Never Left That Clinic?': Faërian Drama in Buffy's "Normal Again" by Janet Brennan Croft

Not Gay Enough So You’d Notice: Poaching Fuffy by Jennifer DeRoss

Throwing Like A Slayer: A Phenomenology of Gender Hybridity and Female Resilience in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Debra Jackson

“You Can’t Charge Innocent People for Saving Their Lives!” Work in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Matt Davies

Ambiguity and Sexuality in Buffy the Vampire Slayer: A Sartrean Analysis by Vivien Burr

Imagining the Family: Representations of Alternative Lifestyles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Vivien Burr and Christine Jarvis

Working-Class Hero? Fighting Neoliberal Precarity in Buffy’s Sixth Season by Michelle Maloney-Mangold

A Corpse by Any Other Name: Romancing the Language of the Body in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein for the Adam Storyline in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Amber P. Hodge

Sensibility Gone Mad: Or, Drusilla, Buffy and the (D)evolution of the Heroine of Sensibility by Claire Knowles

"It's good to be me": Buffy's Resistance to Renaming by Janet Brennan Croft

Death as a Gift in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Work and Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Gaelle Abalea

“All Torment, Trouble, Wonder, and Amazement Inhabits Here": The Vicissitudes of Technology in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by James B. South

Staking Her Colonial Claim: Colonial Discourses, Assimilation, Soul-making, and Ass-kicking in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Jessica Hautsch

“I Run To Death”: Renaissance Sensibilities in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Christine Jarvis

Dressed To Kill: Fashion and Leadership in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Christine Jarvis and Don Adams

Queer Eye Of That Vampire Guy: Spike and the Aesthetics of Camp by Cynthea Masson and Marni Stanley

“Sounds Like Kinky Business To Me”: Subtextual and Textual Representations of Erotic Power in Buffyverse by Lewis Call

“Did Anyone Ever Explain to You What ‘Secret Identity’ Means?”: Race and Displacement in Buffy and Dark Angel  by Cynthia Fuchs

“It’s About Power”: Buffy, Foucault, and the Quest for Self by Julie Sloan Brannon

Why We Love the Monsters: How Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer Wound Up Dating the Enemy by Hilary M. Leon

Why We Can’t Spike Spike?: Moral Themes in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Richard Greene and Wayne Yuen

Buffy, the Scooby Gang, and Monstrous Authority: BtVS and the Subversion of Authority by Daniel A. Clark & P. Andrew Miller

Are Vampires Evil?: Categorizations of Vampires, and Angelus and Spike as the Immoral and the Amoral by Gert Magnusson

BOOKS ABOUT VAMPIRE LORE AND MYTH IN GENERAL

The Vampire Lectures by Laurence A. Rickels 

Our Vampires, Ourselves by Nina Auerbach

Vampires, Burial, and Death: Folklore and Reality by Paul Barber

The Secret History of Vampires: Their Multiple Forms and Hidden Purposes by Claude Lecouteux

The Vampire Cinema by David Pirie

The Living and the Undead: Slaying Vampires, Exterminating Zombies by Gregory A. Waller

Vampire Forensics: Uncovering the Origins of an Enduring Legend by Mark Jenkins

Slayers and Their Vampires: A Cultural History of Killing the Dead by Bruce A. McClelland

The History and Folklore of Vampires: The Stories and Legends Behind the Mythical Beings by Charles River Editors

Encyclopedia of Vampire Mythology by Theresa Bane

Vampires of Lore: Traits and Modern Misconceptions by A. P. Sylvia

The Vampire: A New History by Nick Groom

Vampyres: Genesis and Resurrection: from Count Dracula to Vampirella by Christopher Frayling

Race in the Vampire Narrative by U. Melissa Anyiwo

Vampires, Race, and Transnational Hollywoods by Dale Hudson

#btvs #buffy #buffy the vampire slayer #💾 #buffy summers #ats #angel the series

[sugar-plum-writer]

A Heian Era Affair

Paring: GojoSatrou!ModernEra x FemReader!HeianEra! Tags: Fem!Reader; Gojo!imagines; slight!mention of violence; 18+ as more chapters come; slow burn [I want to have a good build up~ just like my Sukuna series fic~]; An ancient Japan romance through time with reader Text: Gojo ends up in the Heian Era through unknown reason (will be reveled later on) and meets reader and hence journey begins both of adventure and romance~ [If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

CHAPTER - 1

The bamboo trees rustled as the cool wind blew, almost hauntingly as if carrying a message from another side of the world. Wiping your sweat with a ragged cloth, you stumbled and walked while carrying a bucket of water to your old wooden house.

It was hard to make a living, the minister of your area was evil, exploiting the people to death, and raising taxes beyond what people could pay. It was a nightmare- no worse at least you could wake up from nightmares but what about reality? can you wake up from it?

Sometimes you wanted to barge in and rip his head off. Too bad you could not, the guards were too strong, and with your strength you doubt you could ever survive.

Sighing, you returned to the river to fill your bucket again.

You had just bent over when a strong gust of wind started blowing out from nowhere, the trees shrieked as the water rippled- throwing you back 10 feet away with a slam- making you hit a tree. The sharp pain made your back go numb. As you tried to get up staggering- the wind kicked up a notch increasing it's speed and power like a cyclone. Your eyes widened in horror as you looked at what was happening- a big black hole appeared in the middle of the river; with water distorting around it and floating up defying gravity.

"What on-"

Before your brain could comprehend what just happened, a white-haired man flew out of the hole towards you, slamming into you-

Bang

Opening your eyes, you tried to get up, but- found the man on top of you, your legs intertwined together, he groaned as he tried to stand

"Ugh"

His voice was deep causing you to freeze a moment, but you came back to your senses and pushed him off

"Who are you!? You demon!" you screamed as you looked at him

"Me? Ah I am Gojo Satoru and no I am no demon, it's the first someone has called me a demon! sure I might be tall but it does not mean I am a demon haha~" he smiled as he looked at you helping you stand up

"What-!? but you j-"

"Do you know where this is? I am a bit in a hurry"

"This is Mizushima village…."

He paused

"What?…. since when did we have a Mizushima village in Japan? Isn't Mizushima an Island!? which prefecture even is this?"

"Prefecture? Our village is part of the Minamoto Clan on the West side"

He paused longer this time

"Minamoto Clan?…"

"Yeah"

"eh?" he froze as he cocked his head to the side

"For real?"

"Yeah"

"I….what-what era is this?" his voice trembled a bit

"This is the Heian Era…the year is 1185…" You looked at him as he stood grounded on the spot contemplating the meaning of his life

Now that you observed him, he was wearing weird clothing the fabric was also very different from what you had ever seen, it was so smooth and very different from cotton- almost otherworldly

"Is he a noble? from Heian-kyo?", you thought to yourself and backed away a bit

"I am…1000 years in the past oh shit"

"Shit? What does it mean? which part are you from? your Japanese is very weird" You looked at him even more confused, even his accent was weird and some words he used were different

"Ah…." he looked at you struggling to explain

"You see…I am from the future more than 1000 years from the future, I know it sounds absurd but..it is the truth" he looked at you seriously meaning every word he said

"Huh? What-what bullshit are you saying? Are you a psycho? possessed?" you looked at him bewildered

"What is bullshit?" he looked at you confused

"I-I am leaving; good day to you, to ask what bullshit means I- you should find a priest" Picking up your bucket you hurried away wondering why you always met weirdos

"Wait-!" he yelled but you turned deaf to his words and ran as fast as your feet allowed you to.

You ran as fast as you could but he appeared in front of you almost like magic

"Please listen to me! I am not lying!!" he grabbed you by the shoulders frantically

"I really am from the future!"

"You freak let go of me!! AHHHHH!" you punched him doing little to no damage and screaming

This continued for some time, you running and him teleporting wherever you were it went on for a few hours and soon both of you sat panting on the ground

"Man…you sure got some stamina.." he wiped the sweat off his forehead simultaneously removing the blindfold

You froze- his eyes- were breathtaking; looking into them your heart exploded like fireworks, so serene, it felt like you were looking at the sky itself. You had never seen such eyes ever

How can someone be this good-looking?

"What? too captive by my looks~ Ah I guess even in the Heian Era I am attractive~" he leaned in with a smirk causing you to look away blushing crimson

"Who would!? you demon! Get away!"

He pouted a bit disappointed

"H…How do I believe you are from the future? And your powers? What are you?"

"I am a sorcerer from the Gojo Clan and…as for how I am from the future…" he scratched his head

"Got it!"

He smirked and took out a weird looking box and opened it

"Here try some, I bet you have never eaten something like this! It is a cheesecake that too from a very famous shop"

With swift movement from his hands, he put the cake in your hands, its scent was sweet, it was jiggly- even a bit liquid-y making you wonder if it was poison

"You...you sure humans can eat this?" your hands trembled as you held the plate

"Yes, it is! here~" he took the fork in his hands and ate a small bite of the cake- grinning

"Ah it really is good~"

Seeing him eat it and look so elated you also wanted a bite- how bad could it be? with a gulp and sharp breath you took a bite- a bite so good it made your eyes light up-

The flavor was exploding in your mouth, it had a rich and creamy flavor with a slightly tangy and sweet taste. The texture was smooth and dense melting in your mouth it felt like heaven.

"It must be so expensive....even in death I doubt I could eat something like this.."

He paused for a moment but then a smile crept up his lips

"Eh it was nothing just enjoy~" he winked

"You should see your reaction~ now that's a nice expression! It makes me wonder what other reactions you can make if I gave you other things~" smirking he leaned in his breath inches away from yours

"So...Do you believe me now?"

"....Yeah" nodding you took another bite

"Yay! Thank you~ please look after me from now on~"

[Link to my master list~ enjoy!]

#fanfic #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen anime #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #jjk satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

[thetriumphantpanda]

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter One)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count / 3.4K

Warnings / soft!Joel, reader is a widow, in depth discussions and descriptions of grief and depression, will have eventual smut, SLOW BURN.

Authors Note / I AM SO PROUD OF THIS LITTLE STORY YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I've wanted to write soft!Joel for so long so I hope you love it as much as I do! If you do enjoy it, reblogs, asks and likes are my drug so I'd love to know what you think! Also considering following for more!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. There were days that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw back the sheets of your bed and get up. For the first month, you think you managed to shower three times. No point if no-one was going to see you. You hadn’t left your house since the day of the funeral, life had become a monotonous circle of waking up, soaking your pillow with tears until you made yourself sick, throwing on the same clothes as before and then doing the same thing but led on the couch. 

People had reassured you it would get easier. That each day it would subside, little by little, and you cursed them for being right. The longer you sat with your misery, the easier it became. One morning, a few months ago, you remember waking up, only this time you didn’t roll over and place your hand on the empty side of the bed and cry when you realized your husband wasn’t there anymore. You got up and showered, taking 15 minutes to brush the matted mess of your hair, and you dressed in new clothes. 

You managed to walk to the market hall and purchase food with your ration cards and Maria had almost fallen over when she saw you in the aisle. That was the worst thing though. You’d been absent from life in Jackson for almost six months, and whenever you left your house people looked at you. Some still had those sympathetic eyes, telling you they were sorry for your loss, but there were the others who judged you. How pathetic you were for falling into despair like you had. 

It wasn’t as if he’d met a violent end, he was quite lucky, actually. In this world death came at the hands of evil, whether it was being taken and tortured by raiders, or torn limb from limb by infected. Your husband had died peacefully, drifting off in his sleep in the hospital. The doctors had said it was cancer, which seemed painfully unkind to him. He’d never smoked in his life and was probably the healthiest person you’d ever known, but when was life ever fair? 

You could tell they whispered once you’d passed. How dare she be so upset when my husband was killed on patrol? How lucky you were to have been able to say goodbye and hold his hand as he passed, when someone else turned into one of those things all alone. So now it wasn’t grief that kept you behind closed doors, but shame. Shame at knowing you thought they were right, that not being able to pull yourself together was selfish. Selfish to all the people who had managed to carry on with their lives after losing someone, selfish to the community for not being able to pull your weight. You were stuck and you had no idea what to do about it. 

The only way you could face leaving your home these days was on Maria’s comforting arm. She’d been your friend for years, she and Tommy seemingly the only people who understood you. Didn’t force you to do anything, let you come to your own decisions when you felt ready. No-one would dare look at you or speak in hushed tones whilst she was around. 

The sun was soaking Jackson now, it was summer, and you were grateful for the warmth of the sun on your skin, everything felt better with the sun on your back. With summer came one of your favourites of life’s simple pleasures. Strawberries. In the market you picked up as many as you could purchase after buying your essentials. Maria walked you home, helped you put away everything and then left with a comforting hug. 

You carefully placed a large handful of the fruit in a bowl, rinsing it under running water. You were about to sit down on your couch to eat them, but the sun was filtering invitingly through your front windows. You stripped off your jacket, leaving you in your simple tank top and jeans before opening your front door to sit on the bench on your porch. You had sunglasses resting on your face, Tommy had found them on a patrol trip a few months ago and you were grateful for the safety you felt from them. People couldn’t walk past and meet your eye. 

You were finishing your third strawberry when Tommy walked past, a man you didn’t know on his left shoulder. He took a look to your house and smiled on seeing you sat in a patch of sunlight, he waved, which you return, then he turns to the mysterious man on his left to say something before they start walking over. 

“It’s good to see you out, honey,” He smiled, walking to lean over the railing of your porch, “What’cha got there?” He asked, motioning his head to your bowl of strawberries. 

“You want one?” You asked, picking the bowl up and walking over to meet him, he gladly takes the biggest fruit in the bowl, pinching the spidery leaves off before putting the whole thing in his mouth, “How about you?” You asked, extending the bowl to Tommy’s mysterious companion. 

He takes a strawberry as well, doing as Tommy did, but he takes smaller bites of the fruit, like he’s savoring it, “This here’s my brother Joel,” Tommy speaks, Joel extends his hand and you take it, shaking it softly in greeting, “He arrived a few weeks back, he’s been getting settled with his daught… with Ellie, but I thought it was high time he started pulling his weight.” 

He had a smirk on his face as he said it and you could see the beginnings of a smile on Joel’s face too, “This one’s a real taskmaster,” You say to Joel, a smirk across your lips, “You’ll be wishing we had a retirement age soon enough.” 

“Can’t think where he gets it from,” Joel chuckles, “You were takin’ notes all the time we worked together before weren’t you?” 

Tommy smiles and nods, “Learnt from the best,” There’s another round of chuckles from the men, “Listen, we should get a move on, but I mean it, it’s nice to see you out like this.” 

“Thanks Tommy,” You offer a small smiled, “Here, take a strawberry for the road.” 

Both men take another fruit gladly before the way and make their way back down the street, leaving you on your own once more. You slide the sunglasses back onto your eyes and take your place in the path of sunlight on the bench. You sit there for a while, eating your strawberries, thinking about all the times you and your husband had done the same, holding hands as the sunset, cuddling up into his side when the temperature dropped. You realized suddenly that you weren’t sad. That the tears that usually threatened to fall were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was just a feeling of happiness, grateful that you’d experienced love in a world where it had seemed impossible. Sure, you wished he would reach over and take your hand in his like he used to, squeeze it and place a soft kiss to your palm, but you were no longer ruled by the grief that had consumed you all those months ago. 

*

“She seemed nice.” Joel muses as he walks with Tommy. 

“She’s lovely,” He replies simply, “Just had a pretty rough time of it recently.” 

Joel hums in acknowledgement as his boots hit the ground in time with Tommy’s, “When you said it was good to see her out, what did you mean?” 

Tommy sighs at his question, but not out of frustration like he usually did when Joel asked him questions, more out of sympathy, “Her husband died about a year ago,” He begins to explain, “Nothin’ violent or anythin’ like that, the doctors reckoned it was cancer, but she took it real hard, I don’t think she got out of bed for the first week, and then after his funeral she just kinda withdrew, she’s been all alone in that house for months, refuses to leave unless it’s with Maria because people talk.” 

“People talk about her?” Joel is shocked, in a world where loss in inevitable, what makes someone else’s grief less worthy than others? 

“We’re safe here,” Tommy says, steering him into a building at the end of the street, “But that doesn’t mean people don’t die when they’re out there,” He references his patrol men, he’d lost a few which he would always hold heavy in his heart, “Maria told me once that when she took her to the market a few months ago, some busybody wives were talkin’ about how unfair it was she got to say goodbye, that he’d been sedated and it was easy for him.” 

Joel stops in his tracks, letting Tommy walk in front of him. They’re in the gun store, not for anything in particular, just so Joel knows where everything is so he can stop following his brother round like a lost puppy. His mind inevitably wanders to his own grief in this moment. The pain of losing his own daughter, the all-consuming feeling of ‘what is the point in life anymore?’ without her. The scar on the right side of his face and the hearing loss in the same ear when he’d tried to end it all. He hadn’t been strong, not really. If he hadn’t of flinched that would have been it, the easy way out, as some would have said. He’d struggled for a long time with his survival but that didn’t mean his was worth more than your grief, or yours more than his. It wasn’t that simple. 

“I spoke to them, told ‘em if I heard ‘em gossiping again then we’d have no issues moving them on their way, but I suppose people are always going to talk, they just do it where we can’t hear them.” 

“I’m guessin’ she knows?” 

“Of course she knows, Joel, that’s why she shuts herself away, easier that way I guess.” 

“Doesn’t make it fair though, feelin’ like you can’t leave your house because people are gonna judge the way your husband died.” 

“She’s been better recently,” Tommy speaks, leaning against the table behind him, “Still won’t really go anywhere without Maria, but seein’ her today, it was nice.”  Joel nods his way through Tommy explaining the signing out system for guns, follows him around to the stables where he shakes the hand of the young girl in charge of caring for them and then settles himself next to his brother at the bar for a drink. All the while, he can’t stop his mind drifting back to you and your loneliness, your despair at your loss, or the rotten porch step he’d noticed at the front of your house that might just give him the reason to get a little closer to you. 

*

A few mornings later, there is a soft knock at your door. Your face contorts in confusion, Maria wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. Leaving the coffee pot to its filtering, you walk slowly to the door, opening it to find Joel stood on your porch, toolbox in hand and planks of wood resting against the railing. 

“Good mornin’,” He croons, “Not interrupin’ anythin’ am I?” 

You shake your head, “Can I help you?” You asked, wincing slightly at the defensive tone of your voice. 

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but when I passed with Tommy the other day, I noticed your porch step was rotting,” He points to the old timbers behind him, “I’m surprised you’ve not fallen through it already, so do you mind if I fix them?” 

Your exterior softens and a small smile pulls at your lips, “Of course,” You say, “I’m just making some coffee, do you want some?” 

“If you don’t mind sharin’, then I’d love some.” 

You leave him on the porch to get started. Your mug is already set next to the coffee pot, you open the cupboard and instinctively reach for the only other mug you ever needed. It had meant nothing to you when you moved in. It was white and had a pattern of sausage dogs printed on it, but it had always been his. You hold it in your hands when you realise what you’ve done. His face flashes behind your eyes. He’s standing in front of you, his hair tousled from sleep, his voice still low and raspy. He thanks you as he takes hold of his mug, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You set it back in the cupboard like it had burned your palms, reaching instead of the plain black mug at the back of the cupboard. 

You rest your palms on the counter, closing your eyes to take deep breaths, feeling the weight of your body through to the ground. Once you don’t feel the wave of sadness flowing through you any longer, your quickly pour the coffee into the mugs, taking them out to the porch where Joel is currently working to take the rotten boards up, not that it’s taking much work, a little force from his hands and the wood in crumbling. 

“Here you go,” You say softly, setting the mug down next to his toolbox, “I hope you don’t mind it black, I spent all my rations on strawberries this week, so no milk.” 

“Just how I like it,” He says, looking up at you, “Thank you.” 

You take a seat on the bench out front, it’s been a long time since you had the company of someone that wasn’t Maria or Tommy and it was nice to watch him work whilst you sat in the sun. 

“Thank you, by the way, I didn’t realise it had gotten so bad,” You remark, and before you can think about what you’re saying, you add, “My husband always used to handle this stuff.” 

You press your fingers to your lips as Joel’s movement still slightly, he knows what you’ve said, but he continues working, “It’s alright, this is what I used to do before all of this, so I’ve got an eye for rotting wood.” 

“You were a builder?” You asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from your loss. 

“I was, Tommy and I were contractors, worked on a bunch of different sites together, kinda annoying the world ended, we’d just booked a really big job, was gonna pay the bills and then some for once, my daughter had already spent the money on a trip to Disney.” 

“Ellie?” You enquire, remembering the name Tommy had given. 

He shakes his head as he sits back on his knees, coffee mug in hand, “No, she’s not mine by blood, she came along a lot later, I lost my daughter on outbreak day.” 

“Oh,” You say simply, “I’m sorry Joel.” 

“It’s alright,” He shrugs, taking a mouthful of coffee, “I struggled, for a long time, didn’t see how it was fair, but it’s been easier recently, all because of Ellie, and this.” He motions around to the town. 

You’re silent for a while, your gaze flits between Joel working and the dregs of liquid in your cup. You understand in a way. The loss is different, but it’s loss all the same. 

“What was his name?” Joel asks quietly as he’s rooting through his toolbox for some nails, “Your husband.” 

“Mark,” You speak quietly, realizing quickly it was probably too quiet for him to hear, “His name was Mark.” 

“Were you together long?” 

“Eighteen years,” You answer, “He was my neighbour in the first QZ I was in, I’d lost my parents a few years before the outbreak so I was on my own, he moved in a year later and would always wake me up every morning when he stomped about to go to work,” You were smiling, recounting how you’d met, “One morning I’d had enough, I went right over there, pounded on the door and gave him what for. Said I was tired of waking up to the sound of his work boots every morning, and I guess the rest is history.” 

Joel smiles as he reaches for his hammer, nailing in the new boards, “Love at first sight?” He asked, worried at first that it’s too personal a question. 

“Something like that,” You offer in reply, “I guess it just kinda happened really, like most things do.” 

There’s silence between you again as Joel hammers in the last of the nails. He stands up, pressing his full weight on the step, “All done,” He declares, shutting away his toolbox, “Don’t have to worry about you fallin’ through it now.” 

You stand up to admire his handiwork, you must admit he was good at what he did. Efficient but thorough, the step had never looked so good, even when you’d first moved in, “Thank you Joel,” You place a hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze, “I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” He bends to pick up his coffee mug and hands it over to you, “Nothin’ else need sorting?” 

“I mean, nothing that risks death or serious injury,” You jest, “But there is something you might be able to help with.” 

You gesture for him to follow you through the house, setting the dirty mugs in the sink as you pass through. You open the back door and motion for him to join you. The garden is a mess, there’s no beating around the bush here. The grass is out of control, but that’s because you haven’t been able to go and get your gas ration for the lawnmower. The decking out back is fine, Mark’s handiwork in the year before he died, but you point to the unfinished table and chairs in the corner, or rather the pile of wood that never got to become the table and chairs. 

“Mark was going to build some table and chairs, you know, so we could have guests over or sit out here in the evenings, but he got sick before he could really start,” There’s a lump in your throat now and you’re willing yourself not to cry, not now, in front of a man you barely know, but nothing you do can quell the feeling inside of you and a few tears fall down your cheek, “God, I’m so sorry,” You sniffed, “I’ve done so well not to do this today.” 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Joel soothes, he pressed a firm hand to your shoulder for comfort but keeps his distance, which you are grateful for. 

He gives you a moment to compose yourself, watching closely as you rub the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath, “It would just be nice to have somewhere to sit where people aren’t going to watch me.” 

Joel’s heart almost breaks at your words. He doesn’t know you, not in the slightest, but the thought that you felt like you had to hide away, in your own community, the place that was meant to make you feel some semblance of normal, was preposterous to him. 

“I’ll build you something, don’t worry,” He reassures, “Tommy has me on patrol for the next few days, but as soon as I can, I promise I’ll build you the best damn table and chairs you’ve ever seen.” 

You laugh now, through the remnants of your tears, “Thank you.” Is all you can manage to say. 

He’s turning around then, you go to follow him, but he stops in his tracks, eyes admiring the trellis against the back wall of your home, full in bloom of sweet peas, “These are beautiful.” He comments. 

“They’re sweet peas,” You inform him, “Maria found the seeds for me, said something about it being good for me to have something to put my energy into,” You shrug, “I guess she was right.”

You reach out and pluck one of the deep purple blooms, “These are my favourites,” You say, turning the bloom over in your fingers before you hand it to him, he looks confused, “Sweet peas are meant to symbolize kindness and friendship,” You explain, “Also fond goodbyes, but I think kindness is more appropriate here.” 

He takes the bloom and tucks the stem into the breast pocket, the petals of the flower peeking out where you can both see it, “Well then, thank you,” He nods, “I’ll see you soon, sweet pea.” 

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#Pedro Pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fan fiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #GOY

[aziraphales-library]

I *love* any fics where Crowley is hurt incredibly bad and Aziraphale must save him or bring him back to health. I also LOVE fics that delve into trauma or mental health which stripes the characters of their mask and they must rely on someone/each other. Do you have any recommendations for fics that are either, or both? Happy endings are a major must for me, but I am open to any suggestions!

You'll want to check our #crowley whump, #hurt crowley, and #protective aziraphale tags for loads of fics like this. Here are some that may or may not have been recommended before, but mind the tags on all of these!...

Where's My Mind? by ebullience24 (T)

See, the thing is: Crowley is tall. His height had caused a few stares back in the days where the tallest man stood at five foot five. And, because of his height, one might be inclined to describe him as slender with spindly fingers and snake-hips. The pun is never intended on that last one but it stands true nonetheless. And Crowley would be likely to agree with these statements: he is tall and slender and spindly and snake-hipped. But what Crowley would be less likely to agree upon is the statement that he, Anthony J Crowley, is underweight. OR: Crowley has an eating disorder. Trigger Warnings now and at the beginning of each chapter.

Safe Haven by McRaider (T)

When Anthony Crowley stepped back into Aziraphale's life for the first time after eight long years missing, it became exceedingly clear with him came a world of trouble and heartache. But Aziraphale never could say no to his beloved Crowley. Can he help Crowley heal after a failed marriage, a gas-lighting ex-wife with an evil plan?

To Speak the Unspoken by ihamtmus (T)

“Uhhhh… Hi,” Crowley started lamely, scrambling to find a way to explain the situation as quickly as possible. His mind was refusing to work properly, thoughts slow as if doused in oil. He hadn’t really thought about what to say on his way here – he’d been too busy focusing on the getting here part before he would collapse. “I was wondering if I could… If I could maybe die in here, if you don’t mind..?” The expression on Aziraphale’s face changed abruptly, telling him that the angel did, in fact, mind. (In which a mortally wounded demon just wants to get somewhere quiet to die but his Adversary will have none of it. A story of how they both learn just how much they care.)

Death in Love by Aspirina_Effervescente & Cyanidechan (M)

After tempting a composer to fame and success, Crowley is cursed by his wife and tormented by her ghost until the end of his days. Aziraphale would do anything to save him, the only problem is that he doesn't know what's going on and, anyway, the problem could be much more complicated than it seems. Inspired by Giuseppe Tartini’s Sonata “the Devil’s trill”

Drops of Sorrow by EdosianOrchids901 (M)

Ten years after the failed Apocalypse, Crowley is captured by Heaven. Gabriel plans to use him as bait to lure Aziraphale into a fight. Can Crowley survive captivity, and will Aziraphale be able to rescue him without walking into the trap?

A Touch of Heaven by IneffableToreshi (E)

A despondent and defeated Crowley has been through the ringer, moreso even than his roommate, Newt, realizes. After a car accident puts him though a number of surgeries and a temporary - but terrifying - few weeks of blindness, the club owner wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed and refuse to move until things return to normal...or as normal as they'll ever be again. Newt - and his cafe-owning girlfriend, Anathema - have other plans. They think that Crowley just needs some care and pampering, so Anathema schedules him a special, off-hours appointment with a friend of hers who is a rather sought-after masseur. Crowley is hesitant and stubborn, but Aziraphale's soothing voice and comforting nature soon win him over, in more ways than one...

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #hurt/comfort #crowley whump #hurt crowley #protective aziraphale #crowley has ptsd #mind the tags #mod d

[acourtofquestions]

Sarah J. Maas really does a good job as a writer when it comes to guiding the reader into the opinion you want them to have for the best emotional investment in the story. … It’s never going to be 100% unanimous (often it’s fun in a way because everyone has their own interpretation, favorites, etc.) however I think her fandoms have more generally conclusive agreements & that’s a pretty impressive feat saying how often her characters & their relationships change; they are built, destroyed, & rebuilt again. The ability to twist the story (even starting with the Beauty and the Beast comparison within A Court of Thorns and Roses is impressive). And I say this as a fan who tends to be PRETTY loyal to my favorites, her books have been an exception.

Tamlin (the beast) is at first a VERY hesitation drawing character, by the time one finally starts to like him; it still feels off (& confusing because isn’t he “supposed to be” the main love interest? “Shouldn’t you” like the MAIN LOVE INTEREST?) then when you finally start to think you love him, your all in on the ship, it starts BREAKING YOUR HEART, until one page changes everything & you now LOATHE HIM FOREVER. 1 book, 7 chapters, & the reader goes through it WITH Feyre.

Rhysand (the beauty😂😊😘) goes from a “who is this tall dark “beautiful” stranger”, to holy**** he’s the one decapitating people😅 & now everyone is terrified of him (for & with Feyre), so the hatred officially starts, until it presses pause because it’s just straight up confusing (“what am I supposed to feel?”) and start getting confused by all the feelings for him; one second he’s annoying, then hilarious, then everyone is drawn to him, until you can’t tell if you like or hate (or love to hate) him. AND THEN SOMETHING IS DEF UP AND YOU NEED TO KNOW WHAT RIGHT NOW so you spend all this time guessing & waiting & brooding & pining—until you think you understand him & “even if it’s fucked up you love him” & then you REALLY do LOVE him and your just WAITING for Feyre to realize it too… And then EVERY shoe drops; you never knew anything, now you know EVERYTHING, & they are officially ENDGAME… until that gets too literal & now your crying CAUSE IT CANT END & thankfully it doesn’t! It just begins 80 times over for Fae Infinity (depending on how that whole death bet bargain goes😅).

Sam we fall for him (even knowing from DAY 1) how it ends; we fall for him because she did; and he did love her. Truly, steadily, from the beginning—to the end. They had something real, a beautiful promise (to be kept… & betrayed, not by them but by the very universe) born among sorrow but not out of it. Something good, built by them. We fall for the assassin, the boy, the best friend; the one that should’ve gotten to be the one or at least gotten more time… the first love, always love, & un-ended one because it’s ending came without a goodbye & before it even had a chance to begin…

Dorian the beautiful & forbidden prince �� the good boy, to one day make a good king & a good man; the dreamer you fall for because he wants to make the world better & just might be a better benevolent ruler; ever-looking for his equal to rule by his side. The forbidden affair, yet always almost promised to be — the Daughter of Terrasen & the Son of Adarlan — enemies to friends to lovers (& friends again) burdened with glorious purpose & dark powerful pasts. The might have been; two sides, same coin… seen by all… seemed fit to be…

Chaol the opposites attract; magnets always in orbit always moving toward this; them. The love that brings life, back to-well-life. The guard & The Assassin; the killer & the protector; the prophesied end to evil rule, a woman scorned & hell-bent to burn the crown to the ground — the one who gave everything for an ideal, a good man, given to protect it at the cost of his very life & all he knew; the daughter of ruin & the fallen — the son of ruiners who destroyed to survive, yet survived nonetheless. A truly good man in a world of evil, a goodness that makes her believe again. A resilient sun, she blazes among deaths darkness, he watches her like Icarus. They are the goodness that came out of the ashes. Opposites yet the ones that understood (even to a fault). It was always meant to be… right?! — Their story. You see & fall for yet ANOTHER future, their “brood of children” & running away together. Until…

Rowan I have yet to meet him but from the little (trying to stay spoiler free) he is her match. Though I was strongly team Chaol… and Dorian… and Sam… I am sure I will fall once again…

There is something genius in that

#Sarah J. Maas #Maasverse #Sarah J Maas #Sarah Maas #ACOTAR #ACOMAF #ACOWAR #ACOFAS #TOG #Throne of Glass #Crown of Midnight #Heir of Fire #the Assassin’s Blade #Tamlin #Rhysand #Feyre #Sam Cortland #Dorian Havilliard #Chaol Westfall #Ilias #Celaena Sardothien #Aelin Galathynius #Rowan Whitethorn #writing #writers #written by women #ships #power of writing #audience persuasion #fandom opinion

[sweetestofchaos]

TOTW Ch 7

𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗈𝗍𝟩 𝗑 𝗈𝖼!𝗁𝗒𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖳𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾/𝖺𝗎: 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖠𝖴, 𝖧𝗒𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽 𝖠𝖴, 𝖭𝗈𝗇-𝖨𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝖠𝖴 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝖨𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖱𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝖬𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖺/𝖭𝖾𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍/𝖯𝖳𝖲𝖣, 𝖠𝗅𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖺!𝖲𝖾𝗈𝗄𝗃𝗂𝗇, 𝖯𝗂𝖾𝖽-𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝖳𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝖲𝗇𝖺𝗄𝖾!𝖸𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂, 𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇!𝖭𝖺𝗆𝗃𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇!𝖧𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗄, 𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇!𝖩𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗇, 𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇!𝖳𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀, 𝖪𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗈!𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝖰𝗎𝗈𝗅𝗅!𝖮𝖢 𝗐𝖼: 6.3𝖪

“Family isn’t always blood. It’s the people in your life who want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who you are. The ones that would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what.” - unknown

a/n: @namjinsmoonchile as always, thank you for being my beta! and major shoutout to @jung-koook for the amazing gif set that the ending of this chapter is based around. I also linked the gif set in the chapter, so you know what the moment looks like irl.

taglist: @elliedearest @quirkybtsarmy @vvh0adie

series masterlist 🌻character profiles 

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Yoongi sits in his car parked in front of the house. He just got off the phone with Mister Fentin and the adoption agency would like to speak to the Min pack in person. Yoongi informed the caseworker that he would have to call him back within the next hour because he needed to see what day and time worked best for everyone in his pack. Mister Fentin was understanding and Yoongi is thankful that he is Imani’s main caseworker. It would be a lie if Yoongi said he wasn’t nervous about the meeting but he trusted that everything would work in his pack’s favor. Seokjin and Imani imprinted on each other and they made sure that the house was perfect for Imani.

Yoongi shakes his head and inhales deeply before he gets out of the car. He will talk about it with everyone at dinner tonight. He knows that once they learn of the meeting they will pretty much stop everything and make themselves available. At the door, Yoongi loosens his tie and unlocks the front door. As he steps inside, he hears the excited squeals of Imani’s laughter before he smells the happiness that is thick in the air. A garden of sunflowers and lavender on a warm summer day. It eases the tension in his shoulders and Yoongi toes off his shoes before he places them in the rack by the door. 

From up on the nesting floor, Seokjin hears Yoongi enter their home, loud and clear. The distraction causes him to shout when a soft, plush ball is thrown at his face and Imani giggles as she hides behind her fortress of pillows. Seokjin narrows his eyes playfully and points his finger at Imani.

"How dare you! Prepare for vengeance!” Seokjin yells but before he can make a move, Jungkook comes flying into the nest with a battle cry as he throws two more plush balls at Seokjin.

“Defend the Princess!” Jungkook shouts as he blocks the fortress with his body.

“Ambush!” Jimin screams as he jumps into the nest and pegs another ball in Seokjin’s direction.

“I’m out numbered!” Seokjin cries as he falls backwards clutching his chest. 

Yoongi walks up the steps and stops at the top when he sees Namjoon cradling Seokjin’s head in his lap in the nest. Seokjin coughs and lifts a shaking hand slowly as he coughs more.

“J-Joonie? I-Is that you?” Seokjin’s acting is top tier and everyone is holding back giggles as Namjoon nods his head.

“I’m here! I’m right here, Hyung!”

“A-Avenge me…” 

Seokjin’s hand falls from Namjoon’s cheek and he twitches a few times before he plays dead with a loud choking sound. Hoseok and Taehyung are standing outside of the nest filming the whole thing with their phones and Yoongi watches on with a fond smile on his face.

“We win?” Imani’s head pops out from the fortress of pillows and Jimin is quick to scoop her up in his arms.

“We have to defeat the evil wizard’s dragon, Princess.”

Imani’s eyes widen as Namjoon starts to growl and roar as he pushes Seokjin off his lap and jumps to his feet.

“Dragon!” Jungkook grabs a pillow and holds it to his chest like a shield while he holds a ball in his other hand. “Prepare to die!”

Namjoon roars loudly and lunges at Jungkook, easily dodging the ball that is thrown his way. He grabs Jungkook around the waist and hoists the hybrid over his shoulder.

“Kookie!” Imani yells and she tries to get out of Jimin’s hold.

“Don’t look Princess!” Jimin covers Imani’s eyes as Jungkook starts to laugh from Namjoon tickling his thighs and tossing him beside Seokjin who is still playing dead. “He’s gone, Princess.”

“Magic! Use magic!”

“Magic?” Jimin ponders out loud and his eyes fall on Yoongi. “Should I summon our own dragon?”

“We ‘ave dragon?” Imani stares at Jimin, her face twisted in confusion and then she follows Jimin’s line of sight. Her eyes widen and she wiggles in Jimin’s arms, “Yoonie! H-Helps!”

All eyes are on Yoongi waiting to see if he will join in and with a huff he shrugs off his suit jacket and pulls his tie completely off, letting it drop to the floor.

Yoongi’s eyes shift to thin slits and he hisses, “Ssssave my Princesssss!”

Imani giggles as Yoongi easily climbs into the nest and blocks Namjoon’s path to Jimin and her. Yoongi ruffles his hair to look more menacing and Namjoon narrows his eyes as he rolls his shoulders. Namjoon picks up two balls and Jimin quickly hands a few to Yoongi before he hides Imani away in the fortress. Jimin picks up the last few balls and stands beside Yoongi.

“Ready, dragon?”

“Ready…fairy?” 

Jimin scarfs at Yoongi’s assumption and rolls his eyes, “I’m part of the royal guard.”

“My bad,” Yoongi snickers and everyone covers their laughter with coughs. “Attack!” Yoongi shouts and he lunges for Namjoon with Jimin right by his side. 

Balls go flying. One completely misses its target and hits Taehyung in the leg. He drops to his knees and rubs at his knee while Hoseok calls for a medic. 

“We-We’re losing him!” Hoseok shouts as another ball comes his way. He ducks and it hits the wall. Hoseok grabs the ball that hit Taehyung and he throws it carelessly. It hits the back of Jimin’s shoulder and Jimin shouts in surprise.

“I’ve been hit!” Jimin falls to his knees and drops to his side, holding his shoulder. “I-I’m not gonna make it. T-Tell the Princess that I l-love her!” Jimin throws his arms outwards and closes his eyes.

It’s just Namjoon, Yoongi,and Imani left and Imani is giggling like crazy hidden in her fortress. As Yoongi throws the ball in his hand, Imani pops out of the fortress with a loud, “Wait!”

Everyone sits up and looks at Imani to make sure she is okay. “I go potty!” Imani climbs out of the nest and runs down the hallway towards the bathroom.

Having a short moment to themselves, Yoongi shakes his head with a laugh, “What did I walk in on?”

Seokjin runs a hand through his hair and laughs, “We were watching Barbie as Rapunzel and then Jungkook wanted to build a tower-”

“Things escalated from there,” Jungkook interrupts with a shrug while he smiles cutely, his nose scrunching up.

“You make a good dragon, Hyungs.” Taehyung compliments from his seat beside Hoseok.

“How did you two not get dragged into this?” Jimin questions as he starts to collect the balls with Namjoon.

“We were making snacks, remember?” Hoseok points to the forgotten charcuterie board half filled with fruit and everyone accepts the answer. 

Yoongi unbuttons the first three buttons of his shirt and rolls his neck a few times before he inhales and smacks his lips. “I got a phone call from Mister Fentin.” All eyes are on Yoongi and he can see the worry on everyone’s faces. “The adoption agency wants to meet with us face to face. I told him that I wanted to talk it over with you all to see what day and time works best.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Seokjin asks as he picks at his cuticle and Jungkook grabs hold of his hands. Everyone looks at each other and Yoongi sighs with a smile.

“I’ll call him back and see if tomorrow at ten thirty works.”

“Let me inform my boss,” Namjoon pulls his phone from his pocket and everyone follows his lead. They will all take the day off tomorrow just in case. If the news is good, they will celebrate and if it is bad, they will spend every single second with Imani before she is taken away from them.

“Hobie, we eat?” Imani’s voice cuts through the click clacking of the phones and Hoseok grins.

“Give me a few more minutes and we can have a snack. Did you wash your hands?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow and Imani nods her head.

“Yesh!” Imani holds her hands up and they are still damp.

“Come on Princess! Let’s find another movie to watch.” Jimin moves to scoop Imani into his arms but she ducks and drives into the nest. She runs over to Yoongi and throws her arms around his legs. 

“Up?” 

Yoongi easily lifts her into his arms and she buries her nose into his neck, scenting him immediately. Yoongi rubs Imani’s back and kisses the side of her head, “I missed you too, sweetheart.” Yoongi inhales the ever pleasant scent of sunflowers and his whole body melts into the hug.

Seokjin comes over and helps Yoongi sit down with Imani still in his arms. “You’re gonna put her in a scent haze if you keep it up,” Seokjin scolds lightly and Yoongi grumbles as he cuddles into Imani’s little body, hugging her tighter. “Stop it,” Seokjin sighs. “She has to eat.”

“Is everyone ready?” Namjoon questions as he meets Seokjin on the main floor. Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin are all sitting on the couch whispering to each other about who knows what. Yoongi is in his office on the phone with Mister Fentin and Hoseok is nowhere in sight along with Imani.

“Hobi should be finished soon. I just checked on him and Imani.” Seokjin looked at Namjoon and brushed his hair out of his eyes with a smile. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” Namjoon lies and Seokjin pecks his lips.

“You smell like a stagnant puddle.” 

“Shut up,” Namjoon mumbles against Seokjin’s lips and kisses him again before he pulls away with a sigh. “I love her, Hyung. I can’t see us without her in our lives.” Namjoon fiddles with the silver chain necklace he has on and licks his lips. “I know it hasn’t been that long since she’s been here, but she belongs with us…they know that, right?”

The wavering confidence that shines in Namjoon’s eyes makes Seokjin’s eyes burn and he pulls the younger man into a hug. Namjoon laughs something between a whine and a snort as he hugs Seokjin back and Jungkook scrunches up his nose.

“Hyungs are really worried, right now,” Jungkook mutters and Jimin sighs, already feeling stressed about the meeting. Honestly he didn’t get much sleep last night and from the way Taehyung is pressing against his side, he knows that Taehyung didn’t either.

“Everyone is stressed, Kook. This is…this will change our whole lives.” Taehyung speaks up and clears his throat as he pulls away from Jimin. “I know that there shouldn’t be any doubt in my mind that Imani will stay with us but-”

“I know,” Jungkook speaks over Taehyung and grabs hold of his hand. “I know, Hyung.” 

The sound of the lift chiming catches everyone’s attention and they all smile at the sight of Imani tucked in Hoseok’s arms. 

“Oh, my cria! Look at you!” Seokjin coos as he rushes over and fawns over the little hybrid. Hoseok split Imani’s hair into two sections for her hairstyle today. A single braided bun sits at the top of her head with silver cut out clips and she has a long bubble ponytail hanging from the back of her head sectioned off with silver clips. The hairstyle shows off Imani’s fuzzy black ears and she looks so cute.

Hoseok also got her dressed for today and Seokjin is pleased with the outfit choice. A pink sweater with white puff balls all over it, dark wash straight leg jeans with the ankles rolled up and a pair of silver iridescent zip up sneakers completes the whole look. Seokjin takes notice of the silver bubble necklace around Imani’s neck and he smiles.

It is a necklace that Seokjin remembers buying for Jimin when they had first started dating. It is nice to see it on Imani, it looks beautiful on her. Namjoon leaves to grab Yoongi and together they all step out of the house as a family of eight. Jungkook makes sure to grab Imani’s outing bag just in case and as the group splits into two, he wonders if he can convince the pack to vote on getting some kind of van so that they can all drive together.

Hoseok drives with the three youngest while Imani drives with the eldest of the pack. Yoongi drives with Namjoon in the passenger seat while Seokjin sits in the back with Imani. As they drive, Seokjin and Imani play a game of ispy. It makes Yoongi smile and Namjoon chuckle as Imani figures out that Seokjin is just looking at things inside of the car.

When Yoongi pulls into the driveway that leads to the adoption building, the scents in the car change and Imani wrinkles her nose. “You stink!” Imani whines as she holds her hands over her nose and Seokjin laughs while patting her head.

“I know I do…sorry pup.” Seokjin catches Yoongi’s eyes in the rearview mirror and tries not to frown. He really shouldn’t be this nervous but he can’t help it. If they try to take Imani away, he will bite someone.

“You’re putting scent blockers on before we get in there,” Namjoon states and neither of the hybrids protest. Yoongi follows the signs until he’s parked at the far end of the building with Jimin right behind him. As they get out of the car, Namjoon tosses him a bottle of scent blockers and Yoongi rolls the neutralizing oil onto his scent glands. He hands it off to Seokjin, who ushers Imani to stand by Namjoon and quickly rolls the oil onto his own scent glands. Once Jungkook steps out of his car, Seokjin is rolling the oil onto the hybrid’s scent glands and Jungkook whines. He hates scent blockers, it makes him feel weird. He hates not being able to smell his packmates.

“Jinnie?” Imani tugs at Seokjin’s pant leg with a frown on her face. “That’s bad,” she points to the blocker in Jungkook’s hand and everyone looks at her.

Seokjin squats down in front of her and smiles, “It’s okay baby. We don’t want to make anyone sad or mad, so we have to put this on.”

“Mommy said bad.”

Seokjin nods his head in agreement, “Your Mommy was right but sometimes we have to use these. I promise we won't get in trouble.” 

Imani shoves her hand in Seokjin’s face and he stares at it crossed eyed before he laughs. He links their pinkies and presses their thumbs together with a smile on his face.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late.” Yoongi takes the oil from Jungkook and slips it into his pocket before Jungkook grabs Imani’s outing bag and swings it over his shoulder. Jimin lifts Imani into his arms and she wraps her little arms around his neck, twisting her body to see where they are going.

The building in front of them is huge. All grey stone, giving off little to no warmth and the tall glass windows seem to be a sick joke as they tease those inside of brighter days. A guard stands at the side entrance of the building and nods his head at the group as they all enter the building. Imani whimpers at the lack of scent, it just smells…empty. She huddles into Jimin’s chest and buries her face in the crook of his neck. The scent of cinnamon and coconut is faint, layered underneath some kind of artificial scent (cologne) but it’s there and it works to ease Imani’s mind.

The Min pack all take seats around the large waiting area while Yoongi and Namjoon walk to the main desk and speak with the receptionist. Sitting in Jimin’s lap, Imani’s hand goes to the hoop earring that he wears and she plays with it. Jimin smiles and kisses the top of Imani’s head as he starts to hum gently. Beside Jimin, Taehyung takes hold of Imani’s free hand and kisses her tiny little fingers. Imani smiles and Taehyung makes a silly face to which Imani giggles and tries to copy him. They go back and forth making silly faces until Yoongi and Namjoon come over and everyone is looking at them while Imani hides her face in Jimin’s neck. 

“They want us in room 613. Someone will show us the way.” Namjoon explains as Yoongi reaches down and takes Imani from Jimin. No one says a thing as they are led to a room that has a large wooden table in the center with chairs on both sides. The walls are cream with a pale yellow accent wall. In the far corner of the room away from the table is what looks to be a nesting and play corner. At the sight of the toys, Yoongi sets Imani down and pets her head softly.

“Why don’t you go play, hm? It looks like a lot of fun.” 

Imani looks at the toys and takes a step closer to Yoongi. She grips onto his pant leg and everyone frowns. Taehyung wonders if this whole trip is a mirror image of what could have happened when she was given to the HBM. Taehyung shakes his head and squats down in front of Imani.

“All aboard the TaeTae train!”

Jimin gasps and moves to get on Taehyung’s back but Imani giggles and stops him. “Too big! Me wide!” Imani jumps onto Taehyung’s back and Jimin pouts.

“No fair! I want a ride!” 

Jungkook snorts, hands Imani’s outing bag to Hoseok and lowers himself onto all fours in front of Jimin, “Bet I’m faster!” Jungkook teases and Jimin sits on his back. Seokjin sighs but smiles nonetheless knowing that the boys are being silly to make Imani feel better. He clears his throat and stands behind them.

“Ready. Set. Go!”

Taehyung and Jungkook start to crawl over to the toys with a speed that makes Imani shout and giggle while Jimin laughs, his eyes turned into crescent moons with his mouth wide open. Taehyung and Jungkook reach the toys at the same time and Jungkook trips over his hands so that Taehyung places Imani down in front of the toys first to make her the winner. Knowing that Imani is now focused on the toys and the younger members of the pack, the other four sit at the table with Seokjin and Yoongi in the middle.

“Mister Fentin won’t be here in person, they will have him on zoom or something like that,” Yoongi quietly explains.

“Who are we talking to then? Another caseworker?” Hoseok asks and Namjoon nods his head.

“Her name is Ran Sejung. She has been helping Mister Fentin with Imani’s case since she came to South Korea.” Namjoon slides his phone from his pocket and pulls up his email. He types Ran Sejung’s name in the search bar and all their emails pop up. He scrolls to the very first one that shows a picture of Sejung and the woman is young. At least in her mid to late thirties with dyed blonde hair, dark brown eyes, a slender nose and thin lips.

“Is she nice?” Seokjin looks at the photo and he doesn’t know what to think. He can’t tell if the woman is nice or not.

Before Namjoon can answer Seokjin’s question there is a knock at the door and everyone at the table stands up as the door opens. Sejung walks in with a smile on her face followed by two older men in suits. One of which is a hamster hybrid. Yoongi is thankful that the hybrid is wearing blockers and they all bow to each other while shaking hands. 

“It is nice to finally meet the Min pack in person. I am Ran Sejung and I’m in charge of Imani’s case while she is registered in our system.”

The other two men introduce themselves as Ryan Tate and Sim Kunwoo, the hamster hybrid. Sejung pulls a laptop from one of the drawers in the room and sets it up on the table. Soon, Mister Fentin is on the screen smiling at everyone and Yoongi is thankful to see a familiar face.

“Now, I would like to start this meeting by saying that we have dealt with a lot of unique cases but Imani’s is by far one of the most difficult.” Sejung keeps her tone light but serious as she speaks and Seokjin grabs Yoongi’s hand under the table. “When a hybrid is a target of the Hybrid Black Market there are steps we must take to insure that the hybrid has not been harmed in any way. Those exams were performed in the States under Mister Fentin’s watch.”

“Was something wrong?” Seokjin’s voice wavers as he asks the question and Namjoon holds his breath.

“Physically, Imani was unharmed. She was underweight and refused to shift. The shifting is what raised a red flag in our system.”

“Why?” Hoseok looks between the three people across from him.

“If a hybrid refuses to shift, it means one of two things.” Mister Fentin speaks from the laptop. “They could be feral-”

“I would know if I was housing a feral hybrid,” Yoongi is firm as he speaks and Mister Fentin nods in agreement. 

“If that were the case Mister Min, Imani would not have been released into your care. The second would be a trauma response and from what we now know of her home life, that is the cause of it.”

“With a child so young, therapy is a must, especially for a hybrid.” Sejung looks right at Yoongi as she speaks. “It is mandatory for Imani to get proper counseling.”

“It was a topic that we have yet to discuss but it was on our minds,” Namjoon interjects and Sejung nods her head.

“Good. Now let’s move on, Mister Tate will continue.”

Mister Tate is a wisp of a man, short and thin, could easily be blown away by a strong gust of wind. He goes over Imani’s lab work and explains what everything means in layman’s terms for the group of four to easily understand. Imani is a healthy four year old child with what is most likely PTSD due to her time with her godfather. But they won’t know until she is evaluated by a professional therapist. 

“Now that you understand the extent of the test results, do you feel confident in your abilities to care for Imani?” Mister Tate stares at the four men in front of him and they all nod their heads without a moment's hesitation. He nods his head and looks to Mister Sim who pulls a closed envelope from a bag none of them noticed. Mister Sim places the envelope on the table and pushes it forward towards Yoongi. The four men look at the envelope and no one is breathing. Seokjin’s eyes waver and he squeezes Yoongi’s hand so tightly that his bones rub together.

“Open it Yoongi!” Seokjin begs as Hoseok places a hand on his knee. Namjoon places a hand on Yoongi’s knee as well and Yoongi inhales deeply. He licks his lips, forked tongue poking out quickly to taste the air in hopes that he can get a grasp of what is to come next. It is no use, the three caseworkers across the table all have poker faces on. Yoongi reaches out and slides the envelope in front of him. His hands are shaking as he picks it up and starts to unwind the red tie that keeps it sealed. He reaches into the envelope and there is a nice stack of papers waiting for him. 

“What is it?” Hoseok whispers and Yoongi swallows loudly. He glances over to the corner of the room where Imani is giggling along with Taehyung as Jungkook makes a doll moonwalk while Jimin sings.

Namjoon squeezes his knee lightly, pulls Yoongi back to the envelope in front of him and he feels sweat collect at the nape of his neck and bites the inside of his cheek. Carefully he pulls the stack of paper out and holds it in front of him. The black ink in front of him is blurry and no matter how many times he blinks his eyes, the letters won’t focus. 

“Yoongi.” Seokjin’s voice is watery and it makes Yoongi’s shiver. “Yoongi…”

The letters are written in neat, clean font. Bold and spaced out, large enough for all four men to read clearly…Adoption Order. A sob rips from Seokjin’s lips and tears stream down his face. Namjoon runs a hand through his hair and huffs out a deep sigh as his eyes start to burn while Hoseok is quietly sobbing on Seokjin’s shoulder. 

“What wrong? Why you cry?” Imani’s tiny voice fills the room as she forgets about the toys and waddles over to the table. Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung are standing together looking fearfully at the paper in Yoongi’s hands. 

“H-Hyung?” Jungkook’s voice is quiet, so very, very quiet and Yoongi looks over at the three youngest while Imani climbs into Seokjin’s lap and tries to wipe his never ending tears away. Yoongi pets the top of Imani’s head and pulls Seokjin into a side hug, tucking the elder’s head underneath his chin as he looks at his pack.

“She’s ours.”

The silence in the room is loud. Hoseok and Seokjin’s sobs are the only noise and soon the other three are crying. Jimin clings to Taehyung as he hides his tears and Jungkook leans against the table, face in his hands as he weeps in relief. Imani is upset, she doesn’t understand why everyone is crying and she doesn’t like it.

“Jinnie what wrong?!” Imani yells with a pout, her own eyes starting to tear and Seokjin shushes her with a million kisses and hugs.

“N-Nothing is wrong baby. Everything-” Seokjin sniffles and wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “Everything is perfect now.” He pulls Imani into his chest and starts to scent her heavily.

Mister Fentin clears his throat from the laptop and Yoongi’s eyes dart to the older man. He is all smiles as he watches the Min pack soak in the news of their newest and permanent packmate. 

“Can you get these young men a pen please, Miss Ran?” 

“Imani, baby…” Yoongi swallows back his tears and takes Imani’s tiny hands in his own. “Would you like to stay with us?” Yoongi asks softly and wipes at the tears that have fallen from Imani’s eyes.

Imani stares at the Min pack and tries to understand the question. They can see the wheels turning in her mind, so Seokjin speaks up.

“Cria, we want you to stay with us forever. C-Can we be your new family?” Seokjin smiles down at Imani and she pulls her hands from Yoongi’s.

“You no cry, if I stay?”

Namjoon’s heart clenches in his chest and Jimin leans against him for support. Seokjin shakes his head and Imani grins.

“Kookie my friend forever?” Imani looks at the kangaroo and Jungkooks nods his head, his lower lip quivering while Taehyung rubs his back. “You love me?” Imani stares into Seokjin’s eyes and Seokjin nods his head quickly.

“Jinnie loves you so much, Imani.”

“We all love you, baby,” Yoongi stresses as he scratches behind Imani’s ears and the whole pack all nod their heads in agreement. 

Imani melts into Yoongi’s touch and slumps against Seokjin’s chest, tucking her arms between their bodies. “I stay, forever!”

After the Min pack leave the adoption center with Imani held tightly in Seokjin’s arms, the pack decide that it is a wonderful day for lunch at the park. Yoongi drives to the day market where he knows there is a park nearby and everyone gets out of the car. Taehyung is in charge of carrying Imani in the crowded streets as they stop by different vendors to get food and treats. Imani wiggles to get down when she sees a woman selling cotton candy and Taehyung carefully sets her down before he grabs hold of her hand.

“Look TaeTae!” Imani pulls Taehyung towards the old woman and Taehyung smiles when the older woman coos at Imani.

“Aren’t you a cutie! Would you like one, my dear?”

“Please?” Imani’s eyes are wide as the woman laughs and starts to make a fresh batch. The globe of fluff is twisted and turned until it resembles the polar bear captain from Octonauts. Imani is completely in awe as the woman hands over the cotton candy and Taehyung’s heart melts. He lets go of Imani’s hand to pull his wallet from his pocket to pay for the treat. As he hands over the money he looks down and Imani isn’t beside him. Icy fear, colder than anything he has ever felt, freezes Taehyung’s heart and he starts to panic. She was just there a moment ago, she couldn’t have gone too far.

“Imani?” Taehyung calls her name. “Imani?” He raises his voice and people are starting to look at him. “Excuse me, have you seen a little girl with black ears on her head in a pink sweater?” Taehyung is panicking, his heart is in his ass and he feels sick.

A giggle hits his ears and he spins around to find Imani dancing with her cotton candy in front of Jimin. The weight in Taehyung’s chest lessens and it is easier to breathe. He staggers over to his pack and falls into Jungkook’s arms who is looking at him worriedly. 

“I-I thought I lost her,” Taehyung whispers against Jungkook’s chest and Jungkook tightens his hold.

“Sorry, Hyung. I thought you heard me say that we had her.” Jungkook nuzzles into Taehyung’s hair and scents him quietly while Imani clings to Jimin’s legs giggling like crazy as he walks around with her between his legs. Jungkook rubs Taehyung’s back and pushes out the warmth of his burning firewood. Taehyung’s shoulders relax, his legs turn to jelly and Jungkook stands tall as Taehyung slowly pulls himself together.

“I’m good.” Taehyung pulls away from Jungkook and runs a hand through his hair. “I never want to feel that way ever again,” Taehyung grumbles as he turns to watch Jimin and Imani.

“She’s safe, Hyung. Never out of our sights, ever.” Jungkook assures and Taehyung nods his head, thankful.

“Let’s go!” Namjoon’s voice calls to them and Taehyung nearly trips when Imani runs right into his legs. 

“Up, high!”

“High?” Taehyung looks at Jimin confused and he points to his shoulders. “Ah, high. Let’s go, my heart.” Taehyung squats down and Jungkook is right behind him, helping Imani onto Taehyung’s shoulders. Taehyung holds onto her legs, his large hands covering her knees and most of her thighs completely. “Cool?”

“Cool!” 

Taehyung slowly stands up and Jungkook keeps his hands up in case Imani starts to lean backwards. Once he is upright, Jungkook puts his hands down and walks beside Taehyung while Jimin slips his pinkie into one of Taehyung’s belt loops. The three walk over to the rest of the pack and Seokjin smiles. 

“What did you get, Imani?” Seokjin looks at the half eaten cotton candy and he hopes that none of it ends up in Taehyung’s hair.

The park is nice, not that crowded with a good amount of soccer moms sitting around. Imani doesn’t care much for the food, she wants to play with all the children. So, Seokjin makes a deal with her, if she eats all of her meat and fruit she can go play. While eating, the guys joke around and feed each other. Ignoring the looks from the other parents in the park at seeing hybrids and humans together.

Namjoon notices that there are two hybrid families sitting nearby and the parents keep telling their children to wait for Imani to finish eating before they ask to play. It makes Namjoon smile before he has never seen Imani play with other children her own age.

When Imani gets done with her food, Hoseok wipes her mouth with a wet wipe and in the blink of an eye, the three hybrid children, two dogs and a bunny rush over to Imani and ask if she would like to play with them. 

“Go on, we will be right here if you need us,” Seokjin encourages with a smile and Imani looks at Jungkook with a pout on her lips.

“Kookie play wit me?”

“Imani-” Yoongi starts and Jungkook quickly cuts him off with a hard swallow of his kimbap.

“Come on! Let’s go!” Jungkook jumps to his feet and the kids all shout in joy as he runs off to the playground with them.

Yoongi sighs and Jimin grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together. “She should be playing without us,” Yoongi groans and Namjoon shrugs.

“It could be another trigger…she was abandoned by her godfather. Even if we say we will be right here, she might not trust it.” Namjoon explains his theory and everyone frowns.

“Do you think the police would tell us if they ever find that asshole?” Hoseok looks at his mates and before anyone can answer, the two other hybrid families come over and introduce themselves. 

The two dogs are german shepherds and the bunny is a cashmere lop. The parents are nice enough, smiling as they ask about Imani and exchanging phone numbers with Seokjin, Hoseok and Jimin to set up playdates later on down the line. Yoongi keeps his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and picks at the meat on his plate as he listens out for Imani’s voice. Jungkook’s laughter is loud as children scream and run around as he chases them.

Imani and the bunny hybrid, Rina are hiding under the playset, behind the tic-tac-toe squares and Yoongi finds himself smiling. Looks like Imani has made her first friend. Jungkook is sneaking up on them from behind and before he can pounce, Imani grabs Rina’s hand and pulls her from underneath the playset. They run as fast as their little legs can go and climb up the steps of the playset. 

Jungkook is laughing, face flushed from running after four young hybrids. The parents and Min pack all watch with fond smiles on their faces as the children’s laughter rings in the air. Soon, Jungkook comes over to the table and plops down, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Hoseok crackles and smooths Jungkook’s sweaty hair from his forehead, “What’s wrong Koo? Can’t handle em?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes at Hoseok and huffs as he throws himself into Jimin’s lap. “Y-You try catching them. It’s impossible!” Jungkook closes his eyes as he inhales and Jimin runs his fingers through his damp hair. “They’re too freaking short and fast.”

Seokjin’s squeaky laughter is the response that Jungkook gets and soon all the adults are laughing.

“Shhh! You’ll wake her up.” Seokjin whispers as Jungkook and Jimin creep into the room, the door creaking a little. Seokjin is standing over Imani’s still dressed in his clothing from earlier while Jungkook and Jimin are freshly showered and in new clothing that doesn’t smell like outside and sweat.

“What are you doing Hyung?” Jimin questions as he stands by Seokjin’s side.

“I…” Seokjin shakes his head and blinks as he feels his eyes start to burn with tears. “I can’t believe that she is mine…ours. I just-”

“Ah, Seokjinie Hyung,” Jungkook wraps his arms around Seokjin’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. “Are you ever gonna stop crying?” Jungkook’s voice is teasing but he hugs Seokjin tightly.

Seokjin sniffles as his tears start to fall and Jimin leans into him, wrapping his arms around Seokjin’s. “Hyung…you really love her, huh?”

Seokjin nods his head quickly, “With all my heart.” Seokjin sniffles again and wipes his nose with the sleeve of his sweat. “God, she’s so perfect.” 

Jungkook and Jimin share a look and snuggle into Seokjin as they squeeze him tighter. They stand there in silence, watching Imani as she naps and just breathing in the sweet sunflowers that seeps from her pores. Jimin sighs and wipes at his face, his own eyes now weepy while Jungkook smiles with wide wet eyes. 

Seokjin clears his throat and pulls away from the two younger men, “Come, we should let her sleep in peace.”

Jimin follows Seokjin out of the room and Jungkook hesitates by the door. He looks back at Imani and grins. 

“Best day ever,” he whispers and leaves the room with the door cracked a little.

Out on the nesting floor, everyone is sitting at the table in the kitchenette with glasses in their hands. Namjoon hands the last one to Jungkook as he joins and Yoongi clears his throat. 

“I just want to say that I never thought today would ever happen. I know that adoption is something we all talked about but I was never…I guess I was scared?” Yoongi admits and everyone nods in agreement. “I wasn’t sure if I would be a good father or alpha but I know now that it was a stupid thing to worry about. With you all by my side, this new journey has been something I never imagined. Imani was meant to be here, so thank you.” Yoongi licks his lips and smiles.

“Thank you, Min and Tae for being yourselves and standing up to what is wrong.” Taehyung and Jimin beam as they hold up their glasses. “Thank you Hyung for imprinting so easily.” Everyone chuckles at Seokjin’s red tipped ears. “Thank you Joon for speaking on all our behalf.” Namjoon nods his head in acceptance. 

“Thank you Hobah for spending extra time relearning your hairstyling skills.” Hoseok grins. “And thank you Jungkookie for being that safe place. I don’t know how you did it, but you more than anyone made Imani bloom.” Jungkook’s nose scrunches up at Yoongi’s words and his face heats up.

“Thank you all for completing our family.” Yoongi raises his glass and they all cheer before tossing the drinks back easily in one go.

#bts fluff #bts parent au #bts hybrid au #bts x oc #poly!bts #bts angst #bts a/b/o #seokjin fic #yoongi fic #namjoon fic #hoseok fic #jimin fic #taehyung fic #jungkook fic #soc bts #totw ch 7 #divider by saradika

[tacticalhimbo]

YALE PSYCHIATRIC - THE TRAGIC CASE OF FATHER JOHN WARD (FAITH: THE UNHOLY TRINITY)

With the new drop of development notes into the GOODIES folder of the game, I wanted to revisit an old analysis I did way back during the era of the Chapter 2 demo.

The long story made short is this: John has an interesting psychology that is backed by the in-game letters and allusions to his hospitalization at Yale Psychiatric. That being said, it isn't really expanded upon because it's not a core element to the plot.

Which, to an extent, can be disagreed with because it is entirely possible that the events of The Unholy Trinity are told through the perspective of an unreliable narrator (John), which then means that some (if not all) events that take place are exaggerated and intensified by John's mental state.

If you ask me, I see the series of events as a blend of details. Demons exist and the cult is very much up to something, but certain things are manipulated to fit a narrative (think, the Martin twins. Amy's mother miscarried, yet John was manipulated into believing the cult had kidnapped the born children for their rituals). I might expand on that another time, but for now, here is my perspective on the characterization of John Ward, and how mental illness plays a significant role throughout the series.

DISCLAIMER: I am not a psychiatric professional. I do have a degree and spent years studying the intersection between the mental health and correctional systems, but I am not a clinician or an individual with a lot of clinical knowledge. I'm just a guy with too much time on their hands and a tendency to let the autism win (/lh /j). Also, if there are any grammar issues… I know. It was, like, 3 AM when I wrote this, and I don't care to tidy it up more than I have tried to.

With this out of the way, let's dive into it. Below the cut will be spoilers for the game and discussions regarding psychiatric abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

In-game dialog and other citations will be highlighted using small text, as I cannot for the life of me get the indent/blockquote feature to work on desktop.

As of writing this post (January 2023), there are five notes regarding John's admission to Yale Psychiatric after the failed exorcism of Amy Martin. I'm going to transcribe them in order of events, and not in the order they are found. The first note we would see examining John's case file, if he were an actual patient, would be the intake assessment form:

Yale Psychiatric Institute NEW PATIENT INTAKE FORM

Patient Name: Ward, John Thomas

Age: 33 Sex: M Ethnicity: White/Caucasian

Assigned Counselor: Spinel, James, PhD

Health Examination Results: Height: 6 feet 2 inches Weight: 185 lbs HR: 92 bpm Blood Pressure: 135/81

Current Status: Minor cuts and bruises, sprain in left ankle.

Patient is in a state of psychologic shock.

Existing Conditions:

Asthma (dormant) Diminished mobility from childhood injury to right knee.

Notice the little note there about psychologic shock. We do get elaboration on the comment made by whoever conducted the intake process, which come from Yale Psychiatric Notes 1 & 2:

Notes - new patient initial consultation

Subject: John Thomas Ward

Present: Dr. James Spinel, PhD, and two orderlies

Subject non-responsive for first half-hour, followed by fragmented 'exorcism' narrative

Subject unable to maintain consistency in story (for example, stating that Amy was in the basement and then saying she was in the attic)

Subject insists incident was the result of demonic possession

Cannot declare subject of sound mind; will require several more sessions to fully understand subject's mental state. Will advise Martin Family attorneys.

—

Subject is suffering from delusion. In John's mind, he plays the role of the hero sent by God to protect the innocent. In order to escape the consequences of his actions, he has created his own reality. In order for everything to make sense, he needs to believe in the evil spirits and paranormal occurrences. I recommend an in-vivo approach until we can get John to accept the truth.

And for the love of God, please have Ms. Martin transferred to another facility. Somehow, John knows that she is in here with him.

Then there's the newer documentation and references to In Vivo, found in the GOODIES folder of the game. See the text around bullet point 3.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: An image of development notes for Faith: The Unholy Trinity Chapter 3, which were taken in an non-lined notebook. There are several roughly drawn images of the page, consisting of level mapping for puzzles in what the developer has called, in previous notes, GaryLand. The text beside bullet point 3 reads "Mini-environments to collect keys. Re-contextualized once you grab key (lost In Vivo). Placement of plagas cultists is 'contested space'. Keys? Sigils? Body parts? Notes alluding that John was there". Beside the last note is a doodle of the eyes emoji, with two stylized eyes looking to the left toward the text. END DESCRIPTION.]

Here's the thing about psychiatric institutions: They suck.

The mental health system in modern day America is better than it was in the 80s, naturally, but not by much. It is important to note that the deinstitutionalization of the mental health system was the right call to make. However, I must note that the lack of funding and resource allocation (mostly due to greed among politicians and public perception of those with mental illness) made it so that individuals are still institutionalized. As of the modern era, individuals with mental illness are disproportionately incarcerated.

The Prison Policy Initiative has a wonderful online research library with up-to-date and reflective research on the rates and treatment of individuals incarcerated, as well as how current carceral practices only work to exacerbate these issues through intensive focus on punishment:

But traveling back in time, before the tides shifted, we have to understand what the environment was like within psychiatric wards/asylums.

The deinstitutionalization of mental health emerged in the 50s following World War II. To make a very long story short, the human rights abuses were put into the spotlight. Several factors, such as inhumane living conditions, harmful treatment practices (which we will elaborate on later), and the rising costs and demand for psychiatric treatment, all contributed to the call for deinstitutionalization. The goal was to improve the quality of life for people with mental illness, and to really just… allow them to exist as humans within society. Though the movement began in the 50s, it didn't gain much popularity among advocate groups until the 60s and 70s (e.g., the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) and Project Release), where the movement truly took off.

However, large-scale closures of institutions didn't actually happen until the 80s, at least in the States. This means that, come 1986/1987, there were still institutions actively running. If you'd like to read more about how psychiatric institutions were run in this era, then I highly recommend reading Dr. David Laing Dawson's personal testimonies as a clinician during the era of asylums and advocacy:

But what were popular treatment modalities for patients like John? Firstly, and mentioned in the in-game notes, we have In Vivo Exposure Therapy, or more simply put: Exposure Therapy.

The American Psychiatric Association, in their Clinical Practice Guideline(s) for the Treatment of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (2023), define In Vivo Exposure as:

Directly facing a feared object, situation or activity in real life. For example, someone with a fear of snakes might be instructed to handle a snake, or someone with social anxiety might be instructed to give a speech in front of an audience.

This intervention is not limited to PTSD, though, and is often used for other clinical concerns such as phobias, panic and anxiety, and (in some cases) Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. The ultimate goal is to break the pattern of avoidance while confronting the fear in a safe environment. Which is great… for patients who are ready to confront these things. If there's one lesson to take away from this post, it's that treatment cannot be forced. Treatment is ineffective if the person requiring it is non-consenting or otherwise unwilling/unable to go through the modality.

So when you look at a patient like John, who is in an active state of crisis, and decide the best treatment intervention is to (effectively) tell him to "Suck it up" and induce anxiety and fear? It's disgusting and it would, in a realistic scenario, only exacerbate his symptoms even further. Which it seems to do, if the line about John having a reaction to Amy's presence in Yale Psychiatric is anything to go by. The man believes she is possessed by a demon (or knows she is), and has intense dread and anxiety around trying to save her (to the point where it's already a fixation). Exposing him to Amy's presence, or even the possibility of it, is not going to do him well until he is guided down from a crisis state and able to understand what is going on (as well as process the events that took place in the Martin home, because Amy would be a psychological trigger of recollection for said events).

John's official diagnoses are, ultimately, mild anxiety and acute coulrophobia (aka: fear of clowns). This much is clarified in the release form:

RELEASE FORM

SUBJECT: John Thomas Ward

DOR: 31 Oct 1986

This form certifies that the subject is hereby released from my care after having completed their required counseling and treatment to my satisfaction, with confidence that they are ready to resume their normal daily activities as a mentally stable member of society.

Dr. James Spinel, PhD

EXISTING CONDITION:

Mild anxiety

Acute coulrophobia

As an aside, can we just point out how John was only admitted for a month, give or take some days? Even if we take the events at face value (aka: demons are real; Hell is real; Lucifer is planning an invasion of Earth to reclaim what God has taken from him-), this feels… entirely too short to state that John is fully recovered.

At least from my interpretation of the intent behind "a mentally stable member of society", as the stigmatization of mental illness would place the burden of showing minimal, if any, signs of distress within day to day life… unless you were a hard-working husband who drank off most of his time at home while beating his wife, lest we forget the nuclear family values and toxic masculinity that still run rampant in American society. But I digress...

And immediately bring your attention to a bit of a continuity issue that, effectively, renders my last point moot: John's letter to Dr. McGlashan, who we can assume is a director of sorts within Yale Psychiatric.

This note is dated for December 30th, 1986:

Dear Dr. McGlashan,

It has been thirty days since the beginning of my treatment here at Yale Psychiatric Institute. Dr. Spinel, who has been so patient with me, has helped me understand my afflictions and has helped me fund a way to move forward and accept the truth.

With Dr. Spinel's help, I have come to accept what really happened in September at the Martin family residence. I accept that what happened was not the result of any supernatural phenomenon, but rather the desperate actions of a young girl driven to violence by her dogmatic parents and old church rituals that are thought to drive out evil.

I am happy to report that, since accepting the truth, my nightmares have ceased and I now enjoy peace of mind that I have not felt since the incident. Given my progress since first coming here, I respectfully request my release from Yale Psychiatric Institute, contingent upon follow-up appointments with Dr. Spinel in the future.

Sincerely,

John Ward

And raises several questions, such as:

If the failed exorcism took place in September, does this mean that John was within Yale Psychiatric from September to December?

Why was there a release form authorized in October 1986 by Dr. Spinel?

John states, "It has been thirty days since the beginning of my treatment […]". Does this mean that there was a second admission period between October and December?

If there was, when did that occur? Was he brought back in during the last weeks of October? In November?

My personal belief is that John was institutionalized twice. Once immediately following the failed exorcism, and once more after due to a relapse (hence the specification "[…] contingent upon follow-up appointments with Dr. Spinel in the future."). John, by this point, is aware of his mental health concerns and acknowledges that he needs more in regard to his treatment. Here, he's showing a clear capacity to establish and (hopefully) follow a community treatment regiment.

And this is where a bibically-accurate, canonical analysis, would end. A bit of insight into what happened, why it happened, and the ramifications (albeit brief). But here's the thing:

I believe there's more to John's case, since I believe in the blending of two prominent theories (everything is real versus everything is imagined). Personally, based on these notes and a few key dialogs within Chapter 3, I believe that John (in addition to the Anxiety) experiences Psychosis brought on by Paranoid Schizophrenia. In context of the game's plot, he experiences Persecutory and Grandiose Religious Delusions.

Let me explain.

There are several types of delusions, and the severity of these delusions can vary from individual to individual. More on the specifics (as well as recommended treatment modalities) can be found in this PDF.

Generally speaking, though, the types of delusions I mentioned are described as follows:

Grandiose: An individual experiences an exaggerated sense of importance, power, knowledge, or identity, that may have some type of theme.

Persecutory: An individual is fixated on the prospect of being attacked, harassed, persecuted, or conspired against.

Sounds familiar, yeah? Let's break it down:

Grandiose: Exhibited in all chapters. John is of the belief that he is a destined savior to Amy Martin. That he is the only one who can save her from the demon(s) plaguing her because he is the only one with the power and ability to do so. He, in the Super Miriam boss fight, also claims to have God's power directly within him. That he, in a way, is God (at least, in that moment).

Persecutory: Exhibited in all chapters, prominent in Chapter 3. In Chapter 1, there's "The Offering" Ending. John is (or perceives to be) stopped in the middle of the road home by Gary and his cult. Then, in Chapter 3, the entire arc around Gary's cult centers around the idea of John being persecuted (targeted by the cult for his attempts to save Amy).

But I feel like this expansion on John's psyche is supported within the canon itself, even if not explicit. Let's look more at the dialog cues from other characters.

One thing that slates me toward this conclusion is the brief mention of John's mother, Meredith. Amy's demon taunts John by asking him "What about Meredith? Did she get better?" and says how he couldn't save her. And based on the delivery of this line, it's clear that some sort of illness was what killed Meredith. Given that Schizophrenia in of itself typically doesn't cause death (though symptoms can contribute to other factors, such as poor physical health, risk-taking behaviors, higher risks of suicide), we have to look beyond the mental health aspect for a brief moment.

According to fairly recent research, there have been connections made between an individual's Schizophrenia diagnosis and their likelihood for developing Alzheimer's Disease. Kochunov et al. (2020) state:

"Schizophrenia (SZ) is a severe psychiatric illness associated with an elevated risk for developing Alzheimer’s disease (AD). Both SZ and AD have white matter abnormalities and cognitive deficits as core disease features. […] SZ and AD have diverse etiologies and clinical courses; our findings suggest that white matter deficits may represent a key intersecting point for these 2 otherwise distinct diseases. Identifying mechanisms underlying this white matter deficit pattern may yield preventative and treatment targets for cognitive deficits in both SZ and AD patients."

Now, as a personal note, I have seen and experienced what Alzheimer's can do to people and how long of a process it is. My maternal grandfather, tragically, passed due to the illness in 2020. I still cannot discuss the symptomatology and progression in full as a result of the grief, but I can direct attention to the Alzheimer's Association and their article on the stages of progression:

Returning to the psychoanalytical aspect, mental illness can be hereditary and passed down, in addition to being individually developed (through whatever means, which are often referred to as the biopsychosocial factors of development). Such is true with the case of Schizophrenia.

Additionally, there does seem to be evidence suggesting that John's perception of events is questionable. Of course, I must note here that every character in this story is an unreliable narrator. Every character has their motives in the information they share and how they share it. This is in no way, shape, or form, me saying that other characters are objectively right in their perceptions. Especially Gary.

Gary is a cult leader. Even if the cult is not as dramatized as they appear to be (e.g., they are not, in fact, kidnapping babies and sacrificing people)… he is still running a cult. He is still capable of being manipulative regardless. I can absolutely delve into the psychology and structure of cults, but this post is long enough as is.

So instead, let's look at what it is Gary says to contradict John's point of view. The primary dialog that I believe points us to a faulty perception is Gary's recollection of the Martin twins:

"Oh, John… deep down, you always knew the twins were an illusion. But you could not resist chasing after lost (hurt) souls. I suppose you wished they were real, just like the late Mrs. Martin. That is how I knew you would come to me."

The popular analysis among the fandom is that Mrs. Martin miscarried the twins, and experienced a rough patch of grief surrounding the event. Again, I have seen similar experiences in my personal life, so I can sympathize with and affirm how rough this process can be. This is why Mrs. Martin had put effort into the belief that they were still expected/born, with the room being set up for them and the crib being discarded in the Martin's basement (as well as the birthday party and clown aspect).

John knew this at the time of exorcising Amy, but his own mental break altered his perception of events and made him believe in the same narrative that Mrs. Martin presented: The twins were alive. The difference here is that John tied the twins into his perception of the game's events, and came to the conclusion that Gary (and his cult) kidnapped them for ritualistic reasons.

Likewise, a lot of Gary's dialog has key words switched out. A list of these words is as follows, with their substitutions in parentheses:

enter (abuse)

lost (hurt) souls

Vessel (Victim)

journey (despair)

Again, this could be a simple nod to Gary's capacity for manipulation as a cult leader. But that doesn't exclude it from also pointing out John's perception of the series' events. In fact, this could be John's psyche interjecting and affirming itself.

So, if John does have this diagnosis, what would a thorough treatment modality look like if they'd pinpointed it back then? If he was institutionalized a third time, after stopping the Profane Sabbath?

The answer to that is either Insulin Shock Therapy (IST)/Insulin Coma Therapy (ICT), or Chlorpromazine (a strong antipsychotic medication).

It's important to note here that IST/ICT fell out of favor in the 1960s, like most shock therapies (with the exception of electroconvulsive therapy). Jones (2000) details the history and modality of ICT, stating:

"Comas were induced on five or six mornings a week. Typically, the third dose of insulin was 10±15 units with a daily increase of 5±10 units until the patient showed severe hypoglycemia. Treatment continued until there was a satisfactory psychiatric response or until 50±60 comas had been induced. Experienced therapists let patients spend up to 15 minutes in 'deep coma' with hypotonia and absent corneal and pupillary reflexes. Clinicians noted gross variation between individuals in response to a given dose of insulin. Also, in the course of treatment a patient could show day-to-day variation in his reaction. Further there was an uncertain relationship between clinical signs and the blood glucose level. The hypoglycemia made patients extremely restless and liable to major convulsions. Comas were terminated by administration of glucose via a nasal tube or intravenously."

If any of this sounds vaguely familiar, it's because the treatment modality was highlighted in the story of John Nash, a fundamental American mathematician with Schizophrenia.

The 2001 film A Beautiful Mind showcases Nash's story, including the usage of ICT. Attached is a video clip from the film, which contains content that may be triggering/disturbing. Watching it is not vital to this analysis, as it's to illustrate the paragraph above:

Ultimately, the takeaway is this:

Mental illness plays a huge role in the game's overarching narrative, even if not considered a major plot element in of itself. The Satanic Panic was a moral panic used by fundamentalist Christians to excuse abuse within their churches, excuse the discrimination of BIPOC and queer folk, and dismiss rising concerns regarding mental health advocacy. This, alongside simply targeting youth subcultures to preserve the nuclear family imagery that arose during the previous generations.

John Ward is easily one of the most fascinating characters to exist, in my opinion, because of how his character is linked to this idea. John Ward is a beacon (for a lack of better term) for this message within the game. He exhibits mental health issues canonically (re: the official diagnoses) and can be analyzed as having a deeper, more expansive diagnosis.

Everything I have said is interpretation, and is not entirely canon in the bibically-accurate sense. This is just a topic that's been in my mind since the release of Chapter 2's demo. You can feel free to agree or disagree with literally anything I have said, and I love hearing others' interpretations as well! The theories scattered around the fandom, whether posted on the Fandom Wiki or hidden in the tags on Tumblr, are just… so good. So I wanted to help contribute in some way!

And for those that read this far... Thank you <3

#txt #faith the unholy trinity #faith chapter 3 #john ward #tw psychiatric abuse #cw medical #meta post #meta analysis #my writing #gary miller #amy martin #meredith ward

[bylagunabay]

Unseen Warfare

THE DIABOLIC IN YOUR LIFE

(2 minute read)

Is there discord in your family, infighting in your business or corporation, factions in your religious organization and war in your neighborhood? If so, you may want to watch the homily by Venerable Bishop Fulton J. Sheen on the actions of the diabolic in our daily life.

𝑺𝒐 𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒄 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒂����𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕 …

(The concise description in the video of the action of the diabolic begins at 4:43 and ends at 11:24. But for further details, please finish watching the video.)

“I thought perhaps you might be interested in hearing about the Devil from a sound philosophical and theological point of view. I'm going to describe to you the Devil, first from the psychiatric point of view, and secondly from the biblical. First the psychiatric.

It is interesting that as we drop things in the Church the world begins to pick them up and distorts them. Now we, for example, the nuns drop the long habits, the girls put on maxi coats. We stop saying the beads, hippies put the beads around their neck. And, as theologians dropped the demonic, the psychiatrists picked it up.

[Dr.] Rollo May of Rockefeller Institute has several chapters in his work on psychiatry on the diabolic. What is the diabolic from the purely psychiatric point of view? Dr. Rollo May analyzes the word diabolic, it comes from the Greek words dia and ballein. Diaballein is to tear apart, rend asunder. Anything, therefore, that breaks pattern, that destroys unity, that corrupts gestalt, produces discord, that is the diabolical. Now, there has been a great increase of the diabolic. Notice for example the discord in the Church, the discord in religious communities, the discord among the laity regards the Church, discord in the clergy. All these are manifestations of a spirit of the diabolic that surrounds us.

Now this psychiatrist [Dr. May] analyzes the way in which the diabolic works. And he mentions three: First love of nudity. Secondly, violence, aggressiveness. Thirdly, split personalities, no inner peace, disjointed minds.

[ … ]

Our Blessed Lord one time went into the land of the Gerasenes… and he found in this land a young man possessed of the Devil (Mark 5:1-20). The Gospel mentions three characteristics of this young man. First he was nude. Secondly, he was violent and aggressive. They could not even keep him in chains. And thirdly, his mind was split, schizophrenic. Our Lord said to him, "What is your name?" He said, "My name is Legion."

Now a legion in his time meant six thousand soldiers in the Roman army. See already he is a person and yet he is legion, six thousand others. My name is legion for we are many. See the personality is no longer unified, I, Legion, we many. Now this psychiatrist does not ever correlate his three manifestations of the diabolic with this young man in the Gospel. I am doing that because I could not help but notice the similarity between the two. So from just a superficial point of view, the diabolic disrupts, and whenever you have a great manifestation of the Spirit you always get the Devil working. When for example, Moses in the Old Testament worked miracles against Pharaoh, Pharaoh's agents simulated a few miracles. When the Holy Spirit came upon the early Church at Pentecost, there was the persecution of Stephen. We had a Vatican Council, the blessing of the Spirit upon the Church. And we have immediately the manifestation of the evil spirit.

So I just leave you with this characteristic note of the diabolic from the psychiatric point of view. The breakup of unity, the breakup of families, the breakup of corporations, the breakup of religious communities, the breakup the oneness of Christ … “

#catholic church #catholic #devil #demons #diabolic #Fulton Sheen #Youtube

[nikofortuna]

JTTW Chapter 15 Thoughts

Chapter 15 for the @journeythroughjourneytothewest Reading Group!

Yes, dragon is very snake-like! Swallows prey whole.

Honestly I am good with Sun Wukong putting Tang Sanzang in his place here. Especially when he started crying at the mere prospect of walking. If anything he should have cried at the life of the poor horsie lost! Not because it inconveniences him a little.

Truly he encounters a problem and goes ‘Oh, woe me!’ right away! Instead of trying to figure something out he basically gives up, it really is no wonder that the largely self-sufficient Sun Wukong who has encountered far greater trouble in his life already gets annoyed with him.

There’s a little typo in the Anthony C. Yu version! The first line of the combat poem reads “The dragon extending sharp daws” when it should be sharp claws!

In the German translation Sun Wukong specifies that if the dragon doesn’t give the horse back he will kill him to avenge the horse’s death, which I find to be a very sweet addition. Horsegirl Wukong all the way!

A longer bit about writing ahead. I played a game with lovely worldbuilding and lore which has been given out very naturally, so my eye easily fell on this detail.

Hm, I don’t know but some of the infodumping about the lore of locations just doesn’t feel very natural. In this instance I have various ideas on how to better it.

Perhaps they could have just mentioned the name of the river and Sun Wukong in his boundless curiosity could have asked why it’s called that.

Or they could have just mentioned that there has been nothing evil about this stream and then the name of it upon which Sun Wukong could have asked something along the lines of ‘If there was never anything evil about it, why is it called that?’.

It could have also been established beforehand that he likes to know a bit of history behind locations and their names specifically and note that others know about this. Then they may tell him these things right away as they know he’ll want to know anyway.

Or is it actually that local spirits have a habit of dishing out info about the location they inhabit with this much detail? On the off-chance that this might be so, it would be good to mention in a footnote at least.

Though even just restructuring it a little would have worked as I found in the German translation, which summarize the history behind the name in one sentence. Roughly translated it says “There was nothing to complain about this stream, it is merely very deep and broad and the water is so crystal clear that birds of prey, when they look down while flying over it, mistake their mirror image for members of their own species and plunge themselves into the water. Hence the name Eagle Grief Stream.” Flows far better in my opinion, pun intended.

Back to the story at hand jumping straight to killing instead of negotiating how else the dragon could pay them back like say get a new horse is a little hasty. He’s a dragon, he could probably get a new one somehow. A lot of this conflict could have been solved through proper communication as is literally explained during the conflict resolution.

Human form Ao Lie! With fashionable pearl jewellery I see! Why did Guanyin take those I wonder? Perhaps it was to make the new harness.

Horsegirl Wukong strikes again! This time making sure the horse gets good quality gear only.

And Tang Sanzang falls off the horse again. There will probably be two types of falling of the horse. One is getting knocked off somehow during tense moments and one is just sliding off the horse in a silly manner during more light hearted and comedic moments like this one.

Ehm… Why are Muslims listed with minor threats? I don’t like that, I don’t like that at all. This was omitted from the J. F. Jenner translation. The German translation kind of kept it, but used the specific groups mentioned in the original text, which isn’t all that much better.

This chapter made me really consider how nice it might be to get a remake of the story, which sticks as close to the original as possible while ironing out plotholes and contradicting parts as well as all these less than stellar outdated details. It’s a great story with a ton of intricate details and much if it holds up to this day, but it has flaws that just don’t need to be there.

#xiyouji #journey to the west #jttw #Horsegirl Wukong #sun wukong #monkey king #tang sanzang #ao lie #bai longma #jttw reading group #jttw book club

[accirax]

as of now my top mastermind suspects are mark, desmond and ulysses n i think originally i was very very sure ulysses would be the mastermind but now i'm leaning towards more mark. probably because i was always suspicious of him before the prologue even released. it's a little embarrasing looking back but i tell you i was dead convinced he was evil and for the last question i just think people should be more suspicious of mark. come on. look at him. his ass is not just victim or survivor-who-gets-character-development-after-jett-dies. come on guys

fair enough! well then, hopefully you won't be upset that i left Desmond and Ulysses above Mark, at least. perhaps not so much Diana, Cassidy, and Toshiko, though. damn, do i just hate women? (/j)

i have to admit, i did initially peg (ha ha get it like p:eg) Mark as a survivor-who-gets-character-development-after-Jett-dies. but, i also think it's valid to think that, because a lot of people might have had that first impression, his character will actually go elsewhere. that line of logic was what made me change my mind about Diana, after seeing how many people thought she was the mastermind.

spoilers for DRA, DRDT (thus far), v3, SDRA2, THH, and SDR2 under the cut!

in my opinion, it's really hard to make theories about Eden's Garden-- or any fangan, really-- based off of the prologue alone, because we don't know what their writing style is going to be like. for example, we have no idea how they're going to treat their first victim.

do the writers plan on making a first victim out of an initially less important/highlighted character, like Linuj did with Kiyoka in Chapter 1 of DRA? it has the downside of sacrificing a character who hasn't really made much of an impact early on, but has the benefit of allowing yourself to really establish and focus on your most important/late game characters. if this is the case, we might have to worry about, i dunno, Kai or Ingrid, who didn't have particularly standout plot moments in the first chapter, being the first victim.

or, do the writers plan on making a first victim out of one of the characters that's gotten the greatest highlight so far, like DRDTdev did with Xander in Chapter 1 of DRDT? that has the upside of making sure that everybody knew his character and was invested in his story before he died, but had the downside of making his death more predictable, because he was "throwing up death flags" with all his content.

either option is entirely valid, and up to the discretion of the writers to decide what works best for the story we're crafting.

in DRA, Linuj decided to invest his resources into making Yuki, Akane, Tsurugi, Rei, and Mikako (and to a lesser extent, Teruya, Satsuki, and Haruhiko) the most interesting and best-developed characters he possibly could, and thus, decided to use the first trial as setup to Tsurugi's eventual delusions of grandeur by making Mitch intend to kill him. however, it does leave characters like Kiyoka, Mitch, Ayane, Kanata, and Kakeru relatively underdeveloped and forgettable (if you don't do their free times, anyways).

in DRDT, the dev clearly has an agenda about making sure that every character has at least one highly focal scene before they exit. Xander was Teruko's support throughout the entire prologue, and had multiple scenes of discussing the mastermind with Teruko alone; Min aided Teruko throughout almost the entirety of Chapter 1's investigation; Arei had a very memorable breakdown moment where she revealed a lot about her character. based on that history of writing, i'm less inclined to believe that someone like Hu, who we haven't focused on that much thus far, will be the killer, and more inclined to believe that a character that's been spotlighted in the ch2 daily life, such as Eden, Levi, Ace, or Whit, will be the killer.

obviously, we're not talking about the first victim here, we're talking about the mastermind. however, similar principles can apply. if p:eg's mastermind is in the game for the entire time, i have no clue if they'd be more of an over-the-top obvious mastermind like SDRA2's Mikado, or an under-the-radar camoflauged mastermind like v3's Tsumugi.

and, that's even assuming that the mastermind is one of the members of the cast! i don't think that's actually been confirmed yet. the mastermind could be a hidden/external threat like Junko in THH, or could be a forgotten side of one of the "innocent" participants like Hajime/Izuru in SDR2.

going back to my original post, a mastermind like Mikado could be someone like Wolfgang; a mastermind like Tsumugi could be someone like Mark; a mastermind like Junko could be, i dunno, Cara?; and a mastermind like Hajime could be someone like Damon. but, with only a prologue under their belt-- even if it is a prologue with a class trial in it-- it's hard to judge what sort of writing the writers will favor. the fact that there are multiple of them makes it even harder to determine.

this all was really barely related to your ask. i just wanted to write it out, as it's been on my mind for a while. thanks for bearing with me :,)

#remember when i said i really like fangans? it's time to act upon that #project eden's garden #p:eg #dra spoilers #drdt spoilers #sdra2 spoilers #<- i mean barely it happens in the prologue but #v3 spoilers #thh spoilers #sdr2 spoilers #my theories #fanganronpa

[gendrie]

daenerys i

the yearning for home! is so powerful in this chapter like just right from the start. it makes me heart ache for her. dany never had a true home. viserys is the only constant in her life and he’s despicable. 

the first r+l=j reference and it is, notably, positive. only dany has an emotional investment in the reality of this tale imo 

braavos reference!!!! i think arya will see the house with the red door before she leaves. gurm won’t be able to resist. she probably hasnt yet bc its gotta be in the nicer part of town. 

i always forget that jorah’s a northerner and a mormont. in my head its just maege and her girls

dany is already worldly wise relative to her pov peers. she’s traveled up and down the free cities and met a variety of people. she understands what a precarious position she’s in and shrewdly observes the situation. 

shes so quiet and passive to start too 

illyrio mentions the lord of light several times which i also thought was interesting

eddard i

my bobby b review: too loud, too big, too slutty

imagine being married to that mf for 15 years?? i’d become a criminal after a week i get you cersei

but its crazy how strong he was in his prime. ned could barely lift his weapon. gendry’s gonna do damage soon enough. those freys won’t know what hit ‘em

arya was born during the greyjoy rebellion so for the 2nd time ned returned home where cat was like “i have a baby!” and ned was like “hey me too! heres theon” 

“surpassing loveliness” weird how this doesnt imply she was “”unconventional”” looking at all lol 

“melancholy as a stark” my people

jon i

the children in this series deserve to get drunk more often

jon is crushing so hard on jaime (smh)

he is, undeniably, othered and doesnt feel like he has a true home. that echoes dany but jon has had a level of stability not to mention a father and siblings who arent evil.

benjen is a babe 

tyrion meets a direwolf (1/6)

#asoiaf reread #danys chap made me so sad #my main takeaway from this batch #all she wants is a stable safe place #but destiny is calling

[daisychains111]

live "tweet" books with me (via the Goodreads progress bar) pt. 4 and 4.5 The ACOTAR series by Sarah J. Maas

(I didn't do the entire book for acotar or acomaf so I'm putting them both here, I'm also putting Frost and Starlight here bc it's so short. I did all of Wings and Ruin so it will be a whole other post)

A Court of Thornes and Roses

 I'm reading this book again and praying it will keep me out of a reading slump

Feyre saying she hates the smell of books is WIIILLLLDDD...the disrespect smh

I know that Tamlin turns out to be the scum of the earth but I can't remember if we still like Lucian...I hope we do bc I love him and Fayre's bestie vibes

RHYSAND IS THAT YOU!!! BESTIIEE

GAG

Lucian really said "I'm getting THE FUCK outta here" he has zero patience for their bs

bribery for a kiss is gross...boo Tamlin

Rhys is the high lord of night court, right...like he's the one leaving heads in gardens? cause like if so SLAY

Rhys don't be a snitch, it isn't a good look

Nesta's important later isn't she? cause her following fayre is not nothing

The way that this is like millimeters from being a standalone book will never not be hilarious.

A Court of Mist and Fury

Rhys crashing her wedding is annoying (kinda bc she clearly didn't want to get married) but also so slay of him

I love it when characters throw shoes...a very underrated form of micro mirco mirco troup

 you are saying a lot of names...all of them slightly familiar...I've very excited"

live laugh love....Lucian siding with Feyre bc I love him and I hope he stays on her side

referring to themselves as males and females is a little too omagaverse for my liking

ngl yall I miss Lucian...like fuck tamlin he's a bitch but Lucian has never done anything wrong in his life

giggling blushing kicking my feet

I didn't know Tamlin was gonna side with the evil king guy...but I KNEW and I'm not at all suprised

I wish I had read this years and years ago when I started it the first time because OH MY GOD

(See part 5 for Wings and Ruin)

A Court of Frost and Starlight

Feyre using "older than Rhys" as a measurement of time is my new favorite thing

period positivity or whatever but I HATE HATE HATE when it's talked about in books...makes me uncomfy

Az is so sweet trying to not get invested in Elain but seriously dude, kick Lucian out of there

Sweet Azrial...if you don't get Elain a gift I'll throttle you

HAHAHAHAHAHAAAHHAHA Cassian can tell when Nesta is reading smut

every Cassian chapter is just him angsting after nesta...just kiss her already

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST SAY MAN...I love these books but every time I read the word male I want to throw them all over a cliff

hehe drunk Cassian and Feyre: the best siblings-in-law ever

a court of Frost and Shadows: 232 pages of everyone and their mothers cockblocking Rhys and Feyre

Lucian...I love you, go away

Rhys, Cassian, and Azrial having a snowball fight every year on Solstice for 500 years is the cutest thing I've ever read...I love it when grown men do cutie-pie things

these people are hundreds of years old but istg they act like their 10

YES CASS GO GET YOUR GIRL

Nesta grow the fuck up

RHYS IS GIVING FEYRE HIS MOMS DRESSES STOP IM SOBBING

I love Rhys and feyre, I do....but I'm dying for Nesta and Cassian content pls

I'm gonna be honest...this had almost zero plot...got to see all the cuties doing cutie things tho...so that's a plus

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of fey and flowers #feyre archeron #rhysand #morrigan #azriel #goodreads #live tweet #fuck tamlin #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #feyre x rhysand #elain x azriel #elain acotar #amren acotar

[bitchyglitterfox]

Ch. 1 - A Fresh Start

A/n: finally I’m posting Chapter 1 to my new series! I think I will make it correspond with the movies starting after AoU and in this Pietro lived. But I hope you guys like this! It is 8 years in the making haha, you’ll also see some familiar faces or rather read.

Warnings: Just fluff and some flirting, and avengers fighting

Words: 1.5k

Chapter 2 >

Main Master-List

Blinding Light Master-List

*******************

It had been 5 months since I left my family behind in order to protect them. I’ve moved into a small one-bedroom apartment in New York City and only go out for groceries and my job at the corner cafe. I was returning from a grocery run when I unlock my door and enter, something doesn’t feel quite right and I drop the bag by the door. I walk further in and I see a figure sitting in the recliner in the corner.

“I don’t know who you think you are but I suggest you leave my home right now before I fry you!” I yell out already feeling my powers.

“Welcome home Miss (Y/n), my name is Nick Fury, and Im or rather I was the Director of SHIELD,” the mysterious figure says still sitting.

Electricity was coursing through my hand as I spoke “If that’s true then prove it. If you can't then I don’t know who the hell you are pal but I’ll kindly ask you one last time to leave my home or else I’ll electrocute your ass!”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge of sorts. “Protocol 78,” he says to it.

“User: Nicholas J Fury, Welcome back” a small hologram appears. It’s SHIELD’s official symbol; alright he is the real deal.

“Alright, you really are the big cheese, but what do you want with me and how did you find me?”

“We never lost tabs on you or your family after your father passed, we simply kept our distance. Now those men who took you were HYDRA, we believe they mean to recruit you or find any information you have about your father and the work he did with SHIELD” he says getting up out of the chair. “Now we already have agents watching over your family but as for you, I’d like to ask you to join us”

I stare at him wide-eyed, “Me? A Super Hero? You can’t be serious; I don’t have the proper training. I don’t, no I can’t”

“You have the proper training all you need to learn is how to control your gift and we can do that with the help of the Avengers. But if that isn’t what you choose then so be it, the offer still stands and Miss Y/n, we’ll be watching you, just to make sure nothing happens to you that is.” With a final word, he walks out of the apartment.

I go and grab the groceries that I had left by the front door, I start putting away the groceries and go over my options. I could become a SHIELD Agent like my father and help save the world against all the evils in this world or I could continue to live a normal life as a civilian and just rely on them to protect me against HYDRA. You know what screw it; I want to be able to protect this world and my family. I lean against my counter when there's a knock at the door.

“I see you've made your decision, I will be back within a week to take you to your new home and begin your training,” Fury says while standing outside my door.

“I can be ready in 2 hours,” I say while allowing him in and going to my bedroom and packing.

I finish writing the note to my landlord about my leaving and no longer needing the apartment. I tape it to the front door and lock it, slipping my key underneath the door and leaving with Fury, I fix my baseball cap on my head and slip on sunglasses on, sliding into a sleek unmarked black SUV.

“What now? I go meet the team go a few rounds with them and see if I’m Hero material?”

“Correct, if you choose to stay you’ll be safe with 24hr surveillance or if you choose to leave you can go back to the life you had before, however, we would prefer you join the Avengers.” He says as we begin driving.

“My father, he was a good man. I know he would want me to become someone who helps others. So, I'll stay and become an agent of SHIELD.” I say while looking him in the eyes.

The rest of the ride was silent, I stared out of the window watching as we passed by trees thinking of my family, hoping that they are safe. I’m pulled from my thoughts when we break through a clearing and I huge building comes into view.

“Wow,” I breathe as the black SUV comes to a stop. I open up my door and bring my duffel bag onto my shoulder.

“Welcome to your new home Y/n,” he says as I get out of the SUV, “This is where i leave you for now, however, you will meet your team on the fourth floor, the elevator to your right will take you right to them.

‘You’ve got this Y/n, you're just moving in with THE avengers and becoming a part of the team, no biggie’ I say to myself as I watch the numbers on the elevator get higher and higher ‘Oh who am I kidding this is the best freaking day of my life! Even if I am here to protect my family from harm there is no shame in being excited’ Im pulled out of my thoughts by the ding of the elevator indicating I had made it to my floor.

The doors opened “Hi im (Y/n) Jacobs, I'm the newest member of the Avengers…” I'm cut mid-speech just as a vase comes flying towards me, thanks to my fast reflexes, I'm able to stop it with a flick of my wrist, blasting it to pieces. I look up and see my new teammates fighting.

“That’s enough!” I yell stepping out of the elevator and stopping everyone in their tracks.

“Uh, who's the new chick?” The one who I assume is Tony Stark asks as he's about to punch Steve Rogers I'm guessing.

“The new chick has a name and it's (Y/n) Jacobs, I'm your new teammate” I saw with a serious tone “I'm also the chick who was almost hit in the face with a vase.”

“Oh, that was my fault” I look up and see a brunette girl around my age say and look down.

“So are you guys gonna introduce ourselves or am I just gonna have to guess for the rest of the time being?” I ask with a smirk. “And why exactly were you all fighting?”

“Well I'm tony stark Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist,” Tony says standing up and leaning against the couch.

“Im steve Rogers Ma’am” steve says while getting up from the ground.

“Im Wanda Maximoff and this-” wanda says being cut off by a streak of blue.

“Im her twin Pietro Maximoff,” a rather cute boy says.

“Hello, my name is vision,” an android said.

“Im James Buchanan Barnes ma’am but you can call me bucky,” A man with a metal arm and shaggy brown hair says standing up from a couch.

“I am Thor Fair Maiden!” a booming blonde said, his loudness made me giggle slightly.

“I am Loki God of mischief,” a lanky black-haired man said standing next to thor.

“Im Natasha Romanoff but you can call me Nat,” A red-haired woman said while sitting on top of a man who was passed out. “Oh and that's Clint Barton, he's a little preoccupied right now.”

“Im sam Wilson, another friend to steve,” Sam said smirking and looking over at Bucky.

“As for Rhodey, he's out on some military business and won't be here for quite some time,” Tony said, “That means the only person left is”

“Hi im bruce banner, it's really nice to meet you (y/n).” a shy and timid curly-haired man said while standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Well, I think that's everyone. Uh, how exactly did you stop that vase from hitting you?” Tony asked with curiosity.

“Oh, thats easy! I’m an Electrokinetic meaning I can control the electricity around me as well as use the electricity in my body to shoot it from my hands” I say quite proudly.

“Interesting, well you'll definitely have to show us more of your powers during training or sometime else,” tony said excitedly. I shake my head and nod while yawning.

“I'm sorry, I just got here from NYC and all the new information presented to me has me a bit exhausted. Do you mind showing me my new room?” I asked while grabbing my bags.

“Here I'll show you, there's an empty room next to mine you can have,” Wanda says while walking over towards me.

“Thank you,” I say smiling and walking down the hall with her.

“She's hot,” Pietro says not knowing I can still hear him.

“Thank you!” I said blushing a bit. Following my thank you, you are a chorus of laughs.

When I finally finish dropping my things off in my room, I turn to Wanda.

“Is your brother always the flirty type?” I ask a small smile appearing on my face.

#bitchyglitterfox writes #marvel #marvel studios #marvel x reader #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda fluff #avengers fluff #avengers x y/n #avengers x reader

[devilscastle69]

👤🤧?

omg ty for the ask

👤 - Describe your current favorite character (including OCs)

rip im so sorry bc im already so excited.

my favorite character rn is L/ucifer (aka u/rushihara) from the d/evil is a part t/imer. im obsessed w him specifically. i was watching the anime and he came on and i was like oh no, cmon he cant really be my favorite but he just is.

he went from being an edgelord demon general who was previous ly the top archangel who fell j because he was bored and joined w the og satan and then joined with the current satan bc he was like i mean there was nothing else to do. over like 10,000 years old with absolutely zero aspirations other than playing pc games and eating snacks and online shopping. but also he does have some character growth but it's more subtle and hes just like so unserious and nobody respects him at all ToT

hes a little man with big wings. he got duped by some rando into spending crazy money on garbage and was like it's not my fault :( (( im socially awkward.

his whole thing is being a neet and exerting as little energy as possible for the most part but hes also one of the smarter characters for sure. like he does actually contribute to the group but it doesnt rlly up his respect or rep and then he usually evens it out by him doing something like ordering stupid shit they dont need while theyre trying to keep a roof over their heads.

he also has the most canon allergies ive seen in forever. an entire chap of the manga and a chap of the light novel and a 50 min DRAMA CD is dedicated to satan taking in a cat and saving it and l/ucifer sneezes the entire time. and theyre like stoooop being so loud!!! lmaoo T_T hes so cute and pathetic <3 i love him sm hes like basically a cat himself. but also during that chapter when the cat coughs up a hairball he prints out directions to the vet and is like dondt panig call a bro (pro). like ok. also he did try making a FOUND poster LMFAO.

something about him just resonates with me he has an unnaturally long life and just wants to live a chronically online life and i feel that. he gets picked up by the collar or scruff all the time and every time i see him i get like lkFLAEJKJRGJLKJ THERE HE IS!!!! yay!!!!!

🤧 - Do you prefer stoic characters or characters who complain?

both <3 like up until recently i was more for stoic characters or ones who will deny deny deny until theyre forced to admit theyre sick or yeah ok they are having an allergy attack. but i also think some complaining is hot. u/rushihara would def complain/has canonically been like cmon this really sucks u guys. D:< i think for me it's also about the dynamics between the characters and the situation/context. omg or a character who goes from im alright it's not bad to this suckkkss :(( and then starts making specific complaints and is all needy. damn. bye-

#snz #snasks