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sugoi-writes · 29 days

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Scream Machine - Part 2 - An Alastor x Reader Fanfic

A/N: Soooo, here's part 2! Horny brain went into overdrive and cranked this bad boy out. I do apologize if there are mistakes. I hope you enjoy!

Keep in mind I'm still keeping the reader/their parts/and such all neutral: the only thing is you are in a dress. But otherwise, that's it!

Mentions of grinding, light choking, some manhandling, biting, making out, tidbits of French, and generally... lots of clothed smut.

Catch yall in horny jail tonight 👈😎👈 Bring a sweater

❤️🎙❤️

The weather, despite the hellscape, was... perfect? Your stroll was casual, slow... and you felt like you were either being paraded around, or made claim on. It make your throat tighten as you continued walking with the radio demon.

You glanced upward, instantly regretting your decision. You caught the glint in his eye as your face heated.

"So, have you always been a musician, dear? In your time alive, I mean." You blinked at the question, nodding.

"On and off while alive. Music class here, trying new instruments there... but when I came to hell, something just... called to me. And I've been doing jazz band since I've gotten the hang of trumpet." You were surprised by the pleasant conversation, the ulterior motive becoming harder to crack.

"Do you play? With your broadcast and all, I'd assume you play too..." Alastor hums, positively delighted by your questioning.

"Indeedy! My Mother taught me everything I know. I'm a piano man, myself... never took up an interested in brass or percussion." Your eyes widened a little bit. How odd for an overlord to comment on... his mortal mother.

"I assume she was a good player..." The smile on Alastor's face faltered for a beat, before it quickly bounced back," Oh yes... she saved as much money as she could for lessons, as well. Whatever she couldn't do, she made sure I learned it elsewhere. You'd be hard-fetched to find a tune I can't play." You found yourself returning his smile as he looked down to you. Most of what you hear about Alastor is how terrifying he is... how dangerous he was... What a rare treat it was to hear about how he was just a child once, like you.

"And... I would assume you could keep up with demand, yourself," Alastor quipped," You must have a pretty good ear and lots of darling little fans.

You were going to confirm that yes, you made a name for yourself... but you remembered why you got here. Be humble.

You were shrugging shortly after," Y-You could say that, I guess. I wouldn't say I'm perfect by a long shot, but--"

You nearly fell on your face as Alastor rounded the corner suddenly. You grip at his arm tightly as your train of thought buffered. You didnt see the look on Alastor's... the look of satisfaction. He has you right where he wants you... Before you could continue walking, you felt your body become incoporal again, before materializing in the alleyway. Your breath hitches, Alastor now standing before you.

"Tell me... is music your only source of income?" Alastor asks, his voice taking on a nearly creamy quality. A shiver hits you again. That damned voice...

You scoff, laughing bitterly," Of course not... you should know that, with your hotel side project..." You seethe, immediately catching yourself. Don't lose your cool...not with this guy. His voice is already dangerous, a voice you typically fell asleep to... don't let him crawl further into your head.

Alastor's grin seemed to double, as he lowered himself to your level. A dangerous glint glided across his eyes," ...what if I told you it could be?"

You take a step back, your hand brushing against the wall of the alleyway. You were nearly pushed all the way to your back as Alastor loomed over you," I dont... quite follow I'm afraid, Alastor, sir..."

Sir. Ohh, he did like the sound of that. Your pulse picking up was music to Alastor's ears... His hand slammed into the wall next to your head, making you gasp and jolt. You looked to your right for your escape, but your head was tilted back and up towards the Radio Demon, his damned microphone forcing you to look his way.

"Well, with being the hotelier, and having my own... passion projects... I have been looking for people to delegate to. 'Many hands make the work lighter', and the like...," Alastor cooed, his voice sickeningly sweet as opposed to his demented face.

"And with this hotel... there is not shortage of entertainment, nor opportunities for employment..."

You swallowed hard, having heard of the hotel. You've seen the standoff that was brought about the most recent extermination. The things you saw made your skin crawl, as if infested with maggots. The princess of hell, Charlie, and her insane powers... the King of Hell himself, who was short a spouse, but not a punch... and the Great Alastor, who many had thought was gone; perished. But alas, how wrong you all were....

"Look, I-- I appreciate the offer. But redemption isn't what I need. I earned my ticket here, and I'd like to earn my keep to stay. This life-- this style--... I don't imagine heaven is very keen on wild jazz musicians up there." You grinned up at the Radio Demon, some of your fire bubbling back up from below," You have a lot of gals and boys just itching to get in... why me?"

Alastor's eyebrows raised, impressed," My friend, if there is anything that hotel and its residents lack, it's class... and what better way to fake it than with quality entertainment? Additionally, the more they partake... the more they adapt; and the more that YOU--"

A large pile of money vaporized out of thin air, it's bills fanning your face," ...stand to earn~"

You swallowed hard. The amount of money that was in his hand was... transformative. It was regal amounts of money. You could do so much with it. Pay debts, secure land... You'd be able to get out of the barrel of shit you'd been trapped in.

You glanced between the money and Alastor, your eyebrows knitting," ... well, what do you want out of all of this? Surely you're expecting something on your end, Mr. Overlord..."

Alastor sighs, tsking as his cane drops your chin, allowing you to relax," If you're worried for your soul, I'm afraid I have no interest in it." Alastor waves off your worry dismissively, still grinning maniacally," No, no... all I want is to become your patron. You supply entertainment for the hotel and its guests, and I supply you with cash... in the meantime, I can make any alterations and requests to your 'sets' at will." You blink, surprised as you process the words spoken to you. This man ALWAYS dealt with souls... and he had no use for yours? You huffed, almost offended. Of course... why would he have a use for a useless sinner like you?

You crossed your arms across your chest, your golden dress ridding up your thighs," So... let's say I were to agree to your little arrangement. Would I still be able to do my other music gigs? I'm still making a name for myself..."

"That would be quite alright, dear."

"And if I have a conflicting event...?" Alastor's silent smile sends the message. No calling out sick... got it. You nodded to the cash in Alastor's hand, eyes narrowed. You needed to play this up, see how much you could squeeze out of this...

"And that? Is that my weekly pay?" Alastor shakes his head, the money still gripped in hand like a bear trap. One that you were about to fall for...

"My my, you must take me as a sham... this is just the sign on bonus! I can assure you, you'll be making SO much more, once you start..." You gulped down the air around you like a fish out of water, gapping. Yep. That's all that you needed to hear.

"I... I dont..." Your mind was racing. Would you really be able to live with yourself by taking this? Would you really be able to accept a bribery like this from one of the most sadistic fucks in hell? ...of course you would.

You hold your hand our to Alastor, hellbent on making it official," Alright, Radiostar... let's make that deal." Alastor is quick to chuckle, his tone dark and rich as he closes the gap. The firm, resolute shake that was shared between you lit a spark in him, literally and physically, with an ominous green light. He had to keep getting more... MORE of you. More of your time.

Alastor backs you into the wall once more, your eyes doubling from panic. And there was your pulse, aching to be bit into... Alastor stoops down to your height, hands slowly raking down the walls of the alley. It their wake, he was leaving deep, wide rivets.

"Dear, I have to ask...," Alastor rasps out, his eyes threatening to flicker to dials. His voice drops an octave, making your legs squeeze together. Alastor's eyes move to them, taking note. So you were his little fan...

"...how is your stamina?" You didn't have time to ask, before Alastor crashes into your lips, tilting your chin up. You were breathless, hands instantly coming up and beating on Alastor's chest. This was so sudden! This was in public!!! This... this was pretty hot, honestly.

You weren't sure if it was the lack of oxygen, or how good his kiss had become... but Alastor was making you question your resolve. You felt Alastor's tongue, thin and keen on entering your mouth. You hesitated, before you felt two large hands grip you under your thighs. As you were hoisted up, you groaned, giving Alastor easy entry. The moment his tongue met yours, you were practically melting. Alastor was famous for his silver tongue, but you had no idea he could do this with it.

Your head was reeling from the quick, heated emotions you felt. Once or twice, you had pondered what it would be like to be endeared to the Radio Demon... but only that: pondered.

And yet today, you seemed to be having your lucky day. A fast paced, VERY lucky day.

When Alastor finally pulled away, you were panting, much harder than you did inside of the speakeasy. A strap to your golden dress had fallen down shoulder, only for Alastor's hands to move it back into place. A gentleman, despite everything.... and despite the mouthwatering sight of your dress riding further up your thighs. Alastor had to admit the display made him feel... carnal desires that he hadnt felt in such a long time.

"It's a shame... I figured the taste of metal would still be on your lips... but no matter. You taste just as sweet..." Alastor nearly purred, making you sigh shakily in his grasp. You fisted his blazer, eyes hazy as Alastor began to kiss your cheeks, then down your neck. You could punch, kick, scream... but this was playing out in sucj a delicious way... would a part of you really want to see this go any other way? You moaned into the crisp, hellish air.

You thought not.

You let your head fall back against the wall, eyes fluttering as you felt his hot tongue in all of his open-mouthed kisses. His breath set you on fire, and you were kicking yourself mentally, realizing this demon was getting you much too heated.

"S-Slow down! I-- ahh-- W-We're in public! Nnngh--" Your pitiful words were useless as Alastor suckled on the junction between your neck and shoulder, making your head feel even lighter. Your legs strained and buckled, and you could just tell that if Alastor touched you between your legs, you would be drenched with your own arousal.

"Aren't most performances live, mon cher~?" Alastor chuckled darkly, his nonchalant attitude making your breath hitch again. A broken, disjointed moan was the only thing you allowed to come out. With your head still thrown back, you couldn't see the way he drinked in your appearance. Alastor relished and memorized how your throat tightened and bobbled with each noise you made... Arguably, this was much better to watch than your strife at the speakeasy.

Alastor lapped at your shoulder lecherously, before sinking his teeth in. You nearly screamed, the pain soon replaced by pleasure as Alastor suckled at the wound. You let out a pleased hiss when Alastor's hands moved higher, gripping you by your hips. Then, you felt his knee come between your legs, anchoring you in place. To your horror, Alastor could indeed feel JUST how excited you've gotten.

Due to you dangling in the air, gravity was already threatening to pull you down. And with his knee the only obstacle, you felt the friction at your core... Worriedly: a place where you weren't sure if you wanted stimulated in an alleyway. But, the deeper parts of your psyche ached for the display to contiue... to see how much the Radio Demon would do.

Your toes curled as you let out a high pitched yelp, your hips involuntarily grinding into Alastor's knee. The deer Demon's ears perked up. Not only had your heart fluttered, but your voice had changed... so scandalous! He wasn't one to engage in this behavior before Hell... but with how far your dress had ridden up, clothed privates gyrating against his knee... he felt the need to indulge.

Experimentally, he pressed his knee further into you, forcing a whine as you ground down again. It looks as though you bit off more than you could chew... but you couldn't help but revel in the feeling. Alastor smiled mischievously, practically groaning himself.

"Oh darling, you taste absolutely Heavenly...," Alastor exaggerated," And your little cries... THIS is a performance I'd like to see~" Alastor nipped at your skin again, making you quake and grind. Your mouth hung open as Alastor hungrily licked a stripe from your collarbone to your ear. He shifted his tone to a gravelly, baritone inflection that made you clench around nothing. With the confidence of a succubus, he whispered in your ear.

"Should we see it to its conclusion?"

Your head rolled to the side, allowing Alastor more access as you panted below him. The fire in your belly beckoned your answer.

"Pl-Please... I-- I can't-- I cant...! n-not without...," you bite your lip," I-Internal stimulation." Alastor chuckled, sultry eyes gazing back to you through half lids. How quick you are to switch sides... how quick you were to be putty in his hands. Perhaps you would be willing to engage in other deals...

"You doubt my abilities? You wound me~" He ground his leg into your heat again, sending sparks up your spine," Then you'll have to work for it..."

You whined as Alastor leaned in to kiss you again, his hands holding your waist firmly," You may use me to meet your peak, love...," Alastor huffed, bringing you higher with just his knee. You found yourself unable to think, your body moving on its own to situate yourself.

"And when you climax, I want to look at me. And only me."

You panted like a dog in heat as your hips moved on their own, Alastor's grip rather unnecessary. Though, if he let go, he would be scared of losing this moment.

Your hair clung to your forehead as your voice hit a crescendo, eyes threatening to roll back. He wasn't kidding. With all of this wording, foreplay, and tension... you may just come from grinding on his leg afterall.

You felt a hot, girthy tendril come up to your lips, swiping your drool across your bottom lip. Alastor was lowering himself, kissing the hem of your top. You shuddered as you felt the heat of his face ghosting your skin.

"Thats it... keep going. I promise I will give you something much more fulfilling soon~"

You whined as your mouth fell open, Alastor's tentacle pushing past your lips. The promise had to demanding more. On command, you sucked on his tentacle, hollowing your cheeks as you felt it wiggle and explore your mouth. He had also managed to quiet you down... effectively: he killed two birds with one stone.

In his case... something had been hardening in his trousers, straining against its confines. Damn it all, he was losing his restraint.

Alastor's hands guided your hips, rocking you quicker against his leg. He would ensure that you met your high before he pushed you too far. Your hands flew up to steady yourself, grasping his lapels tightly. Alastor chuckled in amusement as he watched you bounce against him, eyes rolled fully back into your skull as you took his tentacle and his teasing. Alastor rewarded you with a well placed kiss, landing on top of your clothed nipple. You nearly shrieked as Alastor suckled there, a new tentacle coming up to tweak and fondle the other. What a perfectly flushed and scandalous display!

You were putty in his hands, about to come completely undone. You looked towards Alastor, signaling to him that you were getting close. The Radio Demon grinned, removing his tentacle almost immediately. It instead looped around your neck, pulling you close to his face.

Your head spun as what little oxygen you had was knocked from your windpipe, it's grip around you loose. And yet, it was sensual enough to spike the feeling in your gut twofold. You let out a garbled whine, your lips forming the words "Close! Cl-Close!!!"

Alastor brusher your nose with his own, his voice low and demanding," You can cum now, dear... let me see your grand finale."

Your entire body convulsed, the suddeness of your orgasm shocking you. Your hands shook as your nearly screamed, Alastor's lips silencing your pleas. He helped your ride out your pleasure, magma coursing through you as you started to return to your senses. You panted, breath ragged as Alastor returned your gaze, catching his breath at the same time. You looked down between the two of you, eyes widening when you realized what had happened.

Alastor's pants now had a very evident wet spot... but not just from you.

You looked to meet Alastor's gaze, eyes wide in awe as he gave you a toothy, blissful grin.

"You'll have to excuse me, dearest. I am not used to this form of... entanglement. Though I can assure you that we can work on that stamina... together."

Alastor lowered you to your feet, before catching you hastily. Your legs wobbled and gave out, too unstable to keep you upright. You smiled back, eyes still glossy with lust.

"I-- I have to hand it to you, Alastor... that... that was a show alright."

Alastor laughs breathlessly, snapping his fingers. With a quick flourish, the both of you were wearing new outfits. You were now dressed in a deep red gown, while Alastor was fitted in a black and red pinstriped suit. Evidence of your mingling was gone, his sweaty, slick hair had now back to its voluminous, pristine look. You questioned if you looked just as fair...

"As I said! It was a performance I was most invested in... and one of many, I would hope." Alastor pats your cheek, stepping back once he knew you could stand.

"Unfortunately, my dear, I am out of time. Business to attend to. But... whenever you are free... you may come straight to the hotel for check in."

"Ch-Check in...?," you reply," But... I wasn't so keen on redemption, remember?"

Alastor laughs, a familiar laughing track echoing through his vocal frequency," You jest! Surely you know all staff are to stay within the hotel, dont you? Free room and board! What could be a better perk?" You smile sheepishly, wiping your hands down your sides, as if they were dirty from your exploits.

"Well... I guess after a freebie and getting my hair blown back, it'd be rude to refuse... I assume I'll have my own room?" Alastor nods, taking your hand.

"I'll ensure that it's taken care of. Of course... if you'd like, I could give you priority on where you'd like to be placed...?" You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, suddenly nervous after having been given the ride of your life by a near stranger.

"Well... if I could be next to your room... it may make... 'practice'... a little easier?" Alastor smiled wickedly, pulling your hand to his lips. You held back a mewl as he kisses your delicate knuckles.

"Consider it done... I'll send some help to collect your things." Alastor backs up a few more paces, and double taps the ground with his staff," Check in is before 8PM... don't be late~"

And with that, the Radio Demon disappears, leaving your head reeling and face flushed. You sighed, placing a hand over your still racing heart. You had a lot of work ahead of you...

You begin your awkward, wobbly way towards you apartment. The possibilities and the future were looking all too promising...

Indeed, you were about to be a much richer, much more satisfied sinner. And you were a-okay with that.

#alastor x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon x reader #radio demon x y/n

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trekscribbles · 9 months

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Greatest Need—Chapter 1

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Cross-posted: AO3 and FFN

Summary: Present-day Merlin gave up on the promise that Arthur would return long ago—until he runs into another person he had never hoped to see again. Gwen doesn't remember him, but as more familiar faces start appearing, Merlin wonders if the time of Albion's greatest need is closer than he thought.

Note: Look, I know it's been 10 years, but I'm rewatching Merlin and thinking about this fic again, and hoping that sharing it will help give me the motivation to finish it. This version has been revised because, you know, it's been 10 years.

Gif of modern "Merlin" because he's beautiful.

Merlin

An unfortunate consequence of immortality is that every new face looks familiar. There are only so many shapes of lips and angles of jaws and colors of eyes, and after a few centuries I gave up trying to keep them all straight in my mind. I often find myself staring at a person, trying to recall if I have met them before or if I'm remembering some long-dead ancestor of theirs. It got so bad that over the years, the features and names blurred together in my memory and drove me, eventually, to isolation.

That's not to say I'm an unfriendly man—I consider myself quite cheerful, considering the life I have led. And it is not to say that I confuse everyone, because certain names and faces stick in my memory better than others. But there are only a handful of identities that I have never mistaken, and only because they are my oldest and most-cherished memories. The ghosts of those faces have haunted me for 2,000 years, during which I have seen features so achingly familiar that I wept at the impossibility of it. There were no descendants to which I could turn, no portraits I could find to ease my loneliness. Only my memories.

Gaius had had no children—he often referred to me as the son he'd never had. After he died I had sought out any relatives he might have neglected to tell me about, but he was alone in the world except for those of us in Camelot. Gwen and Arthur had produced no heirs, though after his death Gwen visited Gaius every day for weeks hoping that she might have some final miraculous gift from the King. It never came, and after a few years of urging from the council she took Sir Leon as her husband. I never felt that there was love between them, though there was certainly a great deal of respect and friendship. The two of them never had children, though whether that was by choice or by fate I never asked, and they never told. If Gwaine had had any illegitimate children, which I half-expected and even hoped for, I never found them. Only Percival had had a family, but the last of his line died out long ago, when the tales of Camelot were still considered history rather than myth.

For years I had searched, seeking out every last tie to the friends who fell to mortality while I was forced to continue, but there was nothing to find. Desperate to keep at least the memory of them alive, I'd cast a spell which allowed me to hold the vision of their faces and the sounds of their voices in my mind, so that when the ever-changing world consumed the reality of their existence, I held fast to the knowledge of who they really were.

So when I sat down this morning at the corner table in a tiny coffee shop I occasionally visited, ordered a cup of coffee, and prepared to lose myself in the numbing words of my book, the very last person I'd expected to ask me if I'd like a refill was Guinevere.

I jump, and then she jumps, and I stare while she readjusts her hold on the coffee pot in her hand. "Sorry—ˮ she blurts, and the voice is hers too. I blink, trying to match the image of Queen Guinevere with the girl before me. It is her face exactly, the same gentle brown eyes and bright, nervous smile, but her hair is cut short and she is wearing jeans and a plain green t-shirt under a wrinkled apron.

"Um- sorry," I force out, wondering if my spell is beginning to wear off. "I thought you were someone else."

She smiles the painfully familiar smile of our first meeting in Camelot, gushing friendly cheer and just a touch of awkwardness. "Sorry," she laughs. "Just me."

I catch myself staring again and clear my throat. "Are you new?"

"Yeah—I just started today," she answers readily. "I'm Gwen."

"Gwen," I echo, and I almost choke on the name.

The girl named Gwen wrinkles her nose. "It's short for Gwyneth," she says. "But not even my parents call me that. Isn't that awful?"

"No," I say quickly, but I'm lying. She is not Gwyneth, and for some reason the change of name makes me feel disappointed.

But she just laughs. "It's alright, I'm used to it. Sorry, I don't think I asked your name."

"Oh, I'm—ˮ I pause, trying to remember which appearance I'm wearing. The skin on my hands is smooth—I'm young then, about her age, because I wanted to attend a lecture on Arthurian literature later this afternoon. "Morgan," I answer finally. "I'm Morgan."

"Nice to meet you, Morgan," Gwen smiles, extending her free hand to shake mine. At least I'm not in the stocks this time. Perhaps I'm dreaming? It wouldn't be the first time I've dreamed of meeting my friends again, but in my dreams they appear exactly as they had in Camelot. This girl's hair and clothes are enough to prove that she isn't a figment of my imagination, but I have no other way of explaining her.

"D'you want a refill?" Gwen asks, lifting the coffee pot slightly.

"Er—yes. Thanks." She pours the steaming liquid into my mug, the handle of which I hold steady as I try to think of what to do next. Not much surprises me anymore, but this… how am I to react to this? This girl cannot be Guinevere. She clearly doesn't recognize me, even though I appear exactly the same as I had in Camelot, except for my clothes. And anyway, I was with her when she died—the last of them all, besides me. She had been old then, and sick, and I'd held her hand while the life slipped out of her. So how can she be here, young and beautiful and memory-less? How could she have possibly forgotten?

And yet here she is—modern, but unmistakably Guinevere. She flashes me her familiar brilliant smile and starts to turn away, and I am seized by the sudden fear that if I let her out of my sight I will lose her to the busy crowds of the city and never see her again. "You're new here?" I blurt, trying to think of something to keep her from going.

"Yeah. Just moved here a week ago. My boyfriend lives in town, and I wanted to be closer to him." Her eyes widen as if she's just heard her own words and they didn't match up with the thought she'd had in her head. The expression is so painfully Gwen that I have to clench my jaw to keep from laughing—or crying—or leaping over the table and kissing her. "I mean, not that I moved here just to be with my boyfriend," she goes on, not noticing my reaction. "Obviously I wouldn't do that, but I'm studying at the University and it's nice to know someone in town, you know? My family's not from here, so he's all I've got, but it's good to be able to get out and live my own life." She breaks off, looking vaguely embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm rambling so much."

"No, it's okay," I tell her. "You said your… boyfriend—ˮ I stumble over the word and try not to let the sudden flare of hope show in my voice. If Gwen is back, is it possible that Arthur has followed her? "Your boyfriend lives in town?"

"Mmm-hmm," Gwen nods. "Lance is going to be a policeman. He's studying at the University too."

"Lance," I repeat, more to myself than her. Not what I'd been hoping for, but too much of a coincidence to dismiss completely. "Lance the policeman. He sounds nice."

She smiles at me again. "He is. We only met a few months ago, but it's strange… I feel like I've known him my whole life. Maybe we met as kids or something."

"Or in another life," I say quietly. Gwen gives me an odd look, as if she's trying to decide if I'm making fun of her. "I just mean," I go on, hoping I haven't offended her. "You know, some people believe that when you meet someone and get on really well right away, it's because the souls recognize each other. And I mean—Gwen and Lance?" I smile in what I hope is a disarming way. "That's a nice coincidence."

She laughs. "You mean like King Arthur? My soul is Guinevere and his is Lancelot?"

"It could happen," I shrug.

"You're strange," she giggles, and then breaks off, horrified. "I don't mean that in a nasty way," she adds quickly, and my stomach flips at the familiar words. "You're just… funny. I like that."

When had she said that to me before? Not long after our first meeting, I am sure, but I can't recall the events surrounding her words. They were her words though—Guinevere's, my Guinevere's. The best friend besides Arthur I'd ever known. Not even my lifetime is long enough for me to forget the moments we'd shared—especially not with the added enhancement of my spell. How can this be happening?

"Do you come here often?" Gwen asks, covering up my silence with her unquenchable friendliness.

"Yes," I lie. I like coffee shops, and I've been to this one a few times before, but as a rule I try not to frequent one establishment over another.

"Good," she smiles. "Then I'll see you again?"

I push my confusion and questions aside and return her smile. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

She gives me a parting, dazzling smile and turns away, and this time I let her go.

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana #once and future king #once and future fandom #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #alternating pov #fanfic #fanfiction #look I'm just trying to find the motivation to finish this thing okay #it's been 10 years #I thrive under pressure

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miras-ash · 10 months

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Chapter 2 of "Just as the stars love the night"

Ash's pov

A dull throbbing in my head, a loud buzzing and hissing in my ears and a hot stinging in the left side of my body, that was the first thing I felt when I woke up. Slowly I became aware of the cold ground on which I was lying, it crawled up on me and made me shiver, I had been stripped of everything except my underwear. Through my closed eyelids I could see light, which in itself was a good sign, at least it meant that I was not buried under rubble, probably I was already in the hospital. All I remembered was Jordan yelling at me to run, then I was yanked off my feet into the air, after that my memories were gone and all I knew was that I had to make sure the others were still alive. I fervently hoped that they were safe.

Slowly I opened my eyes and tried to sit up.

My eyes wandered around the room, it didn't look like the scene of the accident, and it didn't look like a hospital, let alone any other place I knew. I was in a small, room whose floor and walls were covered with white tiles and apart from a mattress in one corner and a door on the other side it was empty.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and a bad feeling spread through me.

Where the hell was I? Why was I here and how did I get here?

Hectically but carefully I tried to stand up and only then realized that my left leg was too badly injured. That explained the stabbing pain.

Cautiously I sat down again and looked down at myself for the first time, my left leg was unnaturally pink and thick bubbles had formed on it, my left arm was also affected but not as bad as the rest. My side was full of scratches, cuts and black spots and I could have sworn that at least two ribs were broken. The force of the explosion had apparently thrown me against something hard. That only made it harder to get away from here, wherever it was.

While I was still thinking about how I should or even could act, the door opened and a tall, dark figure in some kind of uniform stood in the frame. The person wore a mask that resembled a skull, in his hand he held a small red bag and otherwise there was nothing remarkable. His footsteps echoed off the bare walls as he approached me. He stood in front of me for a while and seemed to look at me, then he spoke: "Well, look who's finally awake, I was worried for a moment that we had lost you.

In his voice was quite clearly to recognize scorn and mockery.

If I had to guess, I would have said he was responsible for the bomb, not Nighthaven.

Unimpressed, I looked toward him into the dark glasses of his mask.

"Only cowards hide behind a mask. I've dealt with the likes of you before, and it always ended the same way."

Apparently I had hit a sore spot, because before I knew it he had punched me in the chin and grabbed my injured leg with his hand and squeezed. It hurt, it hurt like hell. I cried out and tried to escape his grip but he was too strong, again and again my eyes went black for a short moment and I could hardly breathe. My screams turned into whimpers and in between I could hear his voice very close to my ear.

"You've never had to deal with someone like me before I promise you."

He finally let go of me and started walking towards the door again.

His tone suddenly changed from cold and unpredictable to polite and almost concerned.

"Oh yeah I almost forgot about that, here. Take care of your wounds."

He tossed me the small red bag that turned out to be a first aid kit and then left the room.

I opened the kit and poured it out to get a better look but other than a small tube of burn ointment and bandages there was nothing in it. That would never help. I might as well have stuck a plaster on an open fracture but I took what I could get.

While I carefully applied the ointment to my leg and tried not to pass out from the pain, I thought about who this person could be but I couldn't think of anyone who might have a motive. Was Nighthaven behind it? Were they so cold-blooded? Probably not, but I had to think about every possibility.

I hoped that Jordan and the others had made it home and that they would search for me. So long I tried to keep a cool head and maybe I could escape by myself, even if the chances looked bad at the moment.

While I carefully put on the bandage, the light went out and it was pitch dark. Probably a pathetic attempt to make me as uncomfortable as possible and to break me. He was welcome to try that, I would not give up so quickly.

#rainbow six siege #ash #r6 ash #tom clancy #eliza cohen #mira x ash #r6s mira #mira #ash x mira #mirash #r6 fanfiction #fanfiction

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downtherabbotholewego · 1 year

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Today you came to mind. I was watching this YouTube video called "Strangers Confess their Love through Love Letters". I thought of who I secretly love or loved that I wish i I could tell them now, and you kept coming back to mind, only you.

I've become very forward with my feelings, I don't regret not telling people I love them.... I may have to think to wish point I should confess my love but I don't think of anyone.... But you....

I am a contradiction, I am honest and forward with my feelings but also at the same time my heart is guarded. The deeper parts of it af least.

Even though I offer love in abundance, I don't allow myself to feel it romantically. And I think that died the day I found out you had died. So much happened after that broke my heart to million pieces and even though I kept pushing and forcing romantic feelings forward I kept not feeling them.

I am still unsure what was I feeling instead. But I was able to detach from those feelings so I know that it wasn't romantic love.... I really am not sure where to describe those cause they are so close to romantic love but not quite.

I feel deeply, but I think that the last person I was IN LOVE with, whom I never told the depths of it, was you.

I was stupidly waiting for you to come to Canada so I could tell you in person.

I wish you had come here instead of Spain. I wish I could have spend time with you, to have been able to spend hours together. I wish and I wish and I wish.

I have to stop myself from wishing with you, because then I enter in this never-ending loophole, I go deep down the rabbit hole with you. I lose myself. Is addictive. Is unbearable.

To think all that could have been but never was, and then to see in replay how your death could have happened....

And that writing, what you wrote on your blog.... I know you were describing your death. I know it because I've been close to it, I know how it feels when the mind starts to fade away.

I miss you, terribly.

I wish I could be with you, and I think this is why my suicidal ideations were so strong. I knew I would see you again... Or maybe not. I had to pull myself away from falling off that cliff inside my head.

Because I promised you, I promised you I would honor you through my life. I would honor you believing in me, I would honor all those hours we spent together online,where you were there for me, loving me, accepting me, believing in me, encouraging me.

I have searched for what you offered in many arms... Alas, I haven't found it yet. People deplete of it quickly, like it has a limit,an end, not like you, that you always offered that safe space, that you always offered freely and lovingly and unconditionally. You were my northern star, my compass, my motivator.... My muse.

I miss you deeply.

I think when I go back to the YouTube video, I think I would write to you, but would be so long of a writing. As I said, is addictive talking to you even after death. I could spend centuries just writing to you.

I miss your mind, I miss your voice, your laugh, your passion

My heart died the day you died. I am certain of it. I haven't allowed myself to love the way I love you. Cause I still to this day, just like the first time I felt love for you, and how it grew. I still feel it so deeply.

One day tho, I have to allow myself to love someone alive, some day I have to allow myself to love the living.

I am so terrified to have my heart shattered into million pieces again. Or, like it happened with you, it didn't shattered, it was swallowed by a giant black hole and I almost lost my own life in it.

But today I realized that.... I haven't allowed myself to love as deeply as I have you for fear of a broken heart.

Let the healing process begin. I know you would want this for me and I can hear you urging me to shine, to love, to live.... We were both the same type of Polyamorous, I know you want me to love passionately and deeply.

I just don't know how to in such a transactional and shallow world.... I don't know how to on a world of practicality and convenience.

I wish I could find love like our again: unconditional, pure, without expectations, simply mutual and deep and pure.

Vyktor... MyLord.... Sheratan to Alzirr... Please know.... I love you. I am still very much in love with you..... I wish I could have been brave enough to tell you back then... But I am brave now... For anyone to see...

Until we meet again,

Your Moon Rose🌹

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fatherlybeast · 1 year

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Hello how are you?

I have been feeling very numb for a really long time until last summer.

The summer trip was one of the best decisions Ive had for a really long time, I reconnected with old friends, made new friends, saw new places, tried new drugs, explored my bisexuality (and it even turned into an inside joke “bisexuality isn’t a choice it is a game and I am winning” LOL), played Steven Universe songs on ukulele at the beach, got into new heated arguments and so on and on. On that note, I think skinny dipping should be legal even at public beaches, it feels very freeing. This is not about me and my obsession with stripping naked though.

But I have been still feeling a little numb after “adventure time” ended. There’s just something about daily human experience that just doesn’t faze me. I loose my interest quickly. I think it’s the same for most people, they just don’t say it out loud. I don’t either, I just disappear into the wind as this feels more humane. An astrologer said heavy aquarius placements in my chart gives me a strong but restless mind and it would naturally be hard to be inside my feelings. A strange combination indeed considering all I crave is real human emotions and well… I believe the only real value to human life is diving into the experience of the full range of emotions, the good and the bad, which is something I am not so skilled at. Its almost like there’s always some sort of distance between me and rest of the world.

But this time leaving isn’t really a choice, Ive built a career and Ive been giving it a lot of time and energy. And I have been getting good bread, except it never felt fulfilling. The learning is good, my curiosity gets satisfied on a daily basis but only academically. And I do not wish to feel like a glorified artificial intelligence inside a meat body. Maybe it is because I have always had nice things around me growing up, money was never an issue (well except a few times) and I never really needed to worry about it. Maybe it is because success always came easy to me, maybe I don’t want to lose myself in the system and completely lose my soul along the process. Well my work isn’t a 9 to 5, and it is actually quite a lively sector. But then what is the issue with me? Why do I have to always chase for more? Why do I have to chase after something that I can’t see or explain, but something I believe to exist with all my heart even though I can’t prove it? Am I wrong, is it just psychosis?

The economic crisis in the country affected me in a good way in that sense, I had to learn that it could all go away. I turned the script and started living lavish again (the word lavish always makes me laugh but it gives the message lol) and this time it is all my own effort. But isn’t it the truth for everything in life? Quite literally, everything does go away. Human life is finite, both the emotional and the physical parts of it. No feeling lasts forever, no flesh lives forever. I might quit one day and start doing something else, but not in foreseeable future that’s for sure. I plan to have a farm when I am older, I want to live the simple life with just music and people I love near sea side, ultimately a beach house. Is this why the pace my hair gets white makes me happy? Because it makes me think that eventually I will get to that calm peace and I don’t have to be restless and in search of something all the time?

And I actually find peace in the fleeting nature of life, it makes you feel gratitude when you got something that gives meaning to your life. Time is always running and it motivates you to do your best to make the most of it. Waiting is rarely an option unless it’s something truly exceptional. You have to cherish people while they are alive and you have to feel what you feel before it disappears into nothingness forever. And why is it so hard for me to hold onto things? Is it the same for everyone else?

But meaning… this concept has been the central focal point of my life as far as I can remember. That sense of wonder, exploring where your journey leads, the curiosity. That’s what life meant to me, a learning experience, really. I always thought “I will learn the human experience” but then it got well, dull. Maybe I learnt too much that I lost interest, maybe I tasted too much that I lost my appetite, maybe its the trauma messing with my brain.

But it all seem to be returning. Even more so after I met this beautiful guy.

There’s a rawness to his very being (and no I am not talking about fucking bareback lol) , a strange depth to his feelings and his charming silent nature… A soul that has so much life in it, I think he doesn’t realize it yet. He doesn’t understand that the price he pays for being real is actually worth it. But he’s very open minded, which amazes me further.

I felt so much feelings in last couple weeks than I have in a very, very long time and it is so weird in the sense that I can’t truly explain it yet. I hadn’t realized that I had the room for such colorful emotions, I thought I became all work and no play when my order came in the mail, which I paid couple five figures in cash for, and didn’t even open it the minute I got it. I thought what’s the hurry, it’s just an object: it can be easily replaced or thrown out, it has no real value no real meaning. I returned to finish a commission I had. Funny I have been talking to a friend lately, he told me that I needed to love money to attract more and that way I could give more to the planet pointing to the fact that people generous like me should have the money as we tend to not keep it for ourselves. He was right, I need to love money, I need to want more. More, more, more… Where does it end? I don’t know, but I am willing to figure out. Even though it was never what I wanted, it was never what I needed. But maybe, just maybe there’s something I don’t know about this matter yet and I need to explore this journey further. I don’t wanna keep saying “great, Mert, you have become another shiny cog in the machine, another slave to the corporate ladder, another Capricorn who rises to the top.” I craved real human emotions, no matter the kind I guess, and this is uncharted territory. There was a complication with a project this morning, I handled it quite smoothly. I felt a strange satisfaction, but again can it ever fulfill me? I already know I am smart, what do I learn here then? Is it about accumulating information as much as my brain can hold? Is it the creative expression of mathematical algorithms that I am perfecting?

And I have been having issues with it, it’s hard to find balance for me, I don’t know why. Having so much nuance and facets to your being can be a hindrance so it seems, noted. Another useless information. Why do I feel like I am wasting time? Even though I get material currency in return? Where does it end, flaunting your shiny possessions to get validation from strangers? There is no point to any of it.

Couple months ago I contemplated about fucking the best friend of a guy I dated 5 years ago, and I felt barely anything. Not guilt, not reminiscence, nothing. I mean maybe this doesn’t count as it’s not like we had a bond with him or his friend. But I thought it would cause some complications. On the other hand the only reason we interacted was because of his beauty and his weird obsession with me. We talked about how he is not happy with his job and how he dreams of a better future. I didn’t say much, I am quite undecided on the matter. It appears he came to this city for better job options but got stuck inside the proverbial ladder. And now he says he just wants someone to hold him inside their arms. I didn’t really feel sad for him, there will be always people who earn more and earn less. But I do wonder what makes some people luckier than others? It is truly a sad illusion the way some thinks they are better or worse than the rest. Nobody should take themselves that seriously, after all in 200 years all the humans on this planet will be dust, all their songs and stories forgotten and the things we have or do… is a work of intricacy and luck, we don’t have much control even if we would like to think so. It’s hardest to find something that makes you forget this, even if for a while… And wealth can never be the true value of a person when it’s mostly predestined.

Someone from 9 years ago found me and approached me. We talked and somewhere during our conversation he said he kept listening to the the smiths album I sent him for a very long time. “Strangeways, here we come” said I was always ahead of time, referencing the things I told him all those years ago and the music…Oh the music… And it appears he is an artist right now with a good amount of following. I didn’t even freak out when he told me my phone number from memory asking if it’s still the same number and invited me over for a cup of coffee. Strange ways indeed. I couldn’t really remember why I didn’t send him louder than bombs back then though, I find that stranger. I said we would catch up later, but it got out of my mind and I don’t really feel anything towards the whole thing anyway…

The mentally ill ex friend I used to feel sad for apparently is still obsessed with me. I used to feel pity but find entertainment experimenting with his inner workings. This time even that didn’t make me feel anything, maybe a sense of soft pity for 5 minutes. I hoped it would make me feel a strong emotion, I played along with it for a while. And nothing… Just boredom, the urge to leave a movie theater before first half ends because... it's just not it. Even the unhinged became predictable. What do you do with that? Just another flesh suit trying to survive, and in need of things to believe and prove. His shaky voice, his cute little tactics, his incoherent sentences...Nothing to see there, nothing emotion provoking…

A friend from high school texted me couple days ago, told me her husband is in the same industry as me. And they have been talking about me whenever they were having some annual high school meeting or something and they have been wondering about me and how things went for me. “You have always been a wild card and you always surprised all of us” You have no idea how lucky you are to be still amazed by most simple things my dear friend. Everything in this life is interesting if you have the wonder inside your heart and when all becomes predictable… well that’s something else. And I am no exception. “You did make it rain that day as you said you would” yeah I know: even the craft is easy. Maybe I should look into it further, there has to be something to explore there…

Last year I've had couple place holder "relationships". I ghosted all of them except one. In my defense they were in it for their own agenda, the usual attention seeking and fear of loneliness. I regret none, they too know there was never love in the first place. And I hope they find it a silly little funny thing that's not worth mentioning now. It was more like trolling ourselves and coming to mutual agreeing about the only solution: synchronized ghosting! (lol) Why was I in them? I needed to distract myself and I hoped, god damn it, I did hope one of them would make me feel anything worth feeling. No luck there. I used to think about it a lot: how relationships are formed. When we say relationship what do we really mean? How do you measure the closeness? How do you define what is it that you exactly feel when emotions keep ebbing and flowing all around and inside us? I didn't ask these questions back then because I didn't care at all. I am still in contact with one of them, we laugh about it often and we send each other memes. I find it very human, we formed a different lighthearted bond because we were both miserable in a similar way. We are two strangers waving at each other across the street we both happened to stumble upon. Really simple like that.

I have been feeling quite sad earlier this year, because of a relationship that ended terribly. It was a punch to the gut, really. And I thought about it for so long, I wanted to sit on it for a long time then the moment of truth came: I don’t care about the sadness, which was the only thing that was left. No matter how I looked at it: flip it, reverse it, turn it around, look at it with fresh eyes in the morning. Nothing. I got reminded of it all some time ago and realized how I grew… a complete stranger to my own experience and memories. But what was there to care for? Was I supposed to be sad because my love and kindness have been taken for granted and was weaponized to manipulate me? I was aware of it all while it was happening. I actually wanted him to surprise me, I wanted to see a person grow strong amidst hardship and do the unexpected. That’s why I was sad and even that disappeared as I knew it would. Forgiveness? Holding a grudge? How can you hate someone for being human? How can you hate someone for having a human heart? And why would it be my place to forgive someone?

Each journey to their own and it has nothing to do with me. I do not wish to be the judge and the jury of others. It’s a bitter place to be, thinking you know better when even the nature of truth is ever changing. No knowledge is meant to be trusted completely. Funny, I remember asking him on our first date “why do you apologize for being human?” I think he never understood what I truly meant. I remember the way he looked at me though and I remember thinking “now, this is a beautiful expression, there might be something more to this than just some physical attraction after all” Was I right? Was I wrong?

Interesting how simple questions usually have complex answers, and complex questions can be reduced to a yes or no.

Last summer I’ve had a date with the ex boyfriend of a friend of my ex boyfriend (such a strange sentence, I know lol) It appears we actually been together before but we both completely lost memory of the event (maybe because we both were in relationships back then?).He took out his phone and showed me pictures. And that was actually a surprise: how detached I can truly be. I always knew it, but didn’t realize it was to this extent. It was indeed not the first time we met. He told me my ex tells people I broke up with him because I was bored. Another expected behavior: was he supposed to tell the truth and make himself look bad? That’s why I left him, he was not a strong human. He was weak and that’s why he had to do what he did to stay alive. But then again, it’s all part of the human nature and that shouldn’t be held against people. He has been terrible, but why should he be anything else? Not everybody has to be just and decent, and that’s fine too. And maybe there’s something I can’t truly grasp about the nature of this duality, and maybe I am the bad guy for inspiring such intense feelings in people knowing how that would go? I would be fine with that too, maybe indeed I am the bad guy and this is the part I have to play.

But oh well enough chit chat, in a sense I managed to make this all about me, sometimes people think this is amusing and attractive, but I sincerely feel like everything revolves around me. Is this the Leo in my chart? The dark side of the sun? Or am I just too conceited, too self absorbed and egoistical? Even if that’s the case, I don’t feel bad about it. It is the truth of my experience and realistically speaking most things do revolve around me. It is a slice of reality that will exist until I take my last breathe. Or maybe its all just a glitch in the matrix and I severed my connection to the server somewhere along the way.

Okay for real, enough chit chat now:

Your existence did change a lot for me in a very short time. Today is your birthday and when I say happy birthday there are a lot of undercurrent to it. It is very selfish in its core. The first time you showed me a song you composed, I felt something unlock inside me: curiosity. I do want to know more, I do want to touch you more, love you more and have more experiences with you. Even though I know what we have too is fleeting, I am here for the journey. And I told you, I will be there for you if you fall that’s a promise I intend to keep. But I won’t tell you that I enjoy even the bad parts, which has the power to make us fail and hurt each other. At least not today. I have faith in you, that one day you will see what I mean. I welcome this experience with everything it has to offer, and I think the inevitable end makes this much more valuable. You make me laugh, swoon, agitated, hot and everything else, really. And I do enjoy it greatly. Thank you for teaching me things about myself.

When I made you laugh to your hearts content a couple days ago, seeing you smile so brightly made my eyes teary. Is it love? Maybe. I think it’s life itself, being in it and truly living your truth and sharing it with another soul. Isn’t that love? Hearts getting softer and softer together?

You showed me your music library (why do you have to use Apple Music though, god damn it :)) ), love me more by Mitski seems to be both our favorite picks from her latest album. It brought joy to me, really. I do need more of this, I need you to love me more and I am willing to love you more. What do you say to drowning in it? It’s what I do best after all, turning worst disasters into a field of flowers. Only for them to die sometime soon. Then it turns into substance for the earth. Not yet though, not yet. I know you can grow taller and I can’t wait to see the shadows you are going to cast.

“I will tear around in my sexy underwear like a god damn near sociopath. And don’t ask me if I am happy, because you know I’m more than happy.” :))

Do I dare get used to this? And risk losing it all? Or do I look at it from outside while I get to experience it from a safe experience? The answer seems to be too obvious.

Did you like my Marilyn Monroe birthday celebration impression last night? Be honest, mine was hotter wasn’t it? Say yes, don’t make me kill you. (LOL)

Questions, questions…

But I do want you to know this most important thing:

I am truly, truly, truly, truly grateful that you were born on this planet.

Happy birthday my love.

“It’s not like I like you or anything! Baka!”

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abysmaldaemon · 9 months

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It amazes me to see how far I've come, it's almost unreal. I used to be filled with such misery, hate, and hopelessness. It was unfathomable to me that anyone could feel this way, and still continue with life. I myself made my own hell, I dug my own grave, and laid in it. I truly gave up on even trying to feel the slightest bit better. I indulged in drugs, sex, anything to get my mind off of how miserable I felt. I hated myself. I hated being alive. It was so much easier being dead. It was my actions, and the way I treated people that made me hate myself so. I would never forgive myself. I deserved every second of misery, and loneliness. I deserved pain, death was too quick. So I suffered alone, for 5 long years. Although I did learn a lot through the suffering, it was nowhere near what I thought. I thought I was different, I thought I changed. When in reality I was the same person at the core. I wallowed in suffering, what could I have possibly learned other than suffering in different ways. I did change, but I wasn't better. I still hated myself, I was still selfish, and miserable. I..can truly not express how thankful I am for being saved despite not deserving of it. It goes to show how just one human can have such a positive impact in another's life..There is much to be said about you, too much. I've changed my mind, and will say it directly. -remEmber-

To sum up a story not told, it was the hand of a kind soul who showed me love and affection that would change who I am, and save me from myself. Something I thought..impossible. Though it was not instant, and took years of time. I had the opportunity to learn, and be better but of course, I didn't. Then I was alone again, emotions swelled, some long forgotten. Pain. Hatred. Misery. Anger. Fear. After months of struggling with myself, I planned to give up on life..to dig my own grave again. Yet the strangest thing happened, and I still don't quite understand it myself. It was like my very being rejected it, it refused to go back into that hell hole again. I..still don't know what happened, but something clicked inside me. Instead of laying down and dying, I actively fought to be better. For the first time in a long time I felt motivated to change myself. Then shortly after, I finally become whole again. From someone who used to harbor so much hate for himself, that felt so hopeless. I never thought I'd be where I am today.

A lot still must be changed, but it's a slow process.

Only time can tell.

#kill me

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thedysphoriadiaries · 1 year

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Entry 43 - 7 March 2023, 1:28am

I feel... different.

It's the second day of that patch being on, and, for some reason, I feel... like there's some energy within me again; I feel... alive? (yet, I want to bury my head into my bed and scream and cry)

It could be the placebo (knowing that I put that patch on myself), or it could be me feeling what I think I should be feeling.

Or maybe it could be me finally feeling better after being pissed at myself for wanting to be a girl whom I saw on the bus.

Yeah, maybe that juxtaposition does explain what I feel.

...

I really wonder what the people in the server have to say about my decision to take the Free Trial™.

I know that at least one of them would say that the person who gave it to me was too much of an influence.

I know that others would say that I chose to take that, and would defend that decision.

As for where I stand?

I personally don't know why I took the patches, for any other reason other than the fact that I knew two things:

Hormones (and your reactions to them) are mostly guided by what you want; cross-sex hormones tend to elicit dysphoric feelings in those who don't want said changes, ie., those who are cisgender.

It was a last resort - a more direct approach as a direct counter to the maze of cognition that I have spun for myself (which, I might add, I chose to tackle without professional help).

Isn't it amazing to feel your desires and motivations swirl into incomprehensibility?

I wonder if the hugbox is where I should stay.

The kindness that it exudes is somewhat... uncanny, for some reason. I get it - the kindness and acceptance in there is, well, there, since the world is actively trying to criminalize people like us. But then again, I'm... not suffering.

I read the entries of a certain someone (a certain someone who's been talking to me quite a bit, I suppose), and I think about how much better (?) I have it. I merely have the desire to be a girl.

I am not having panic attacks the same way other people do. The sidelines aren't empty; I see the faint silhouettes of many other people, looking outwards, into a life they desire, but will never have due to the way they were born.

Making this all about me is the single most selfish thing I've ever done. Yet, I'm sitting here, typing, with a patch on my abdomen. My parents don't know. Nobody but you, the reader, my brother, and I know about it.

The reality of life, that being that society isn't welcoming to people like us, makes me think about the little saying,

If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

I only have that (undistilled, uncrystallized) desire to be a girl. I have lived with it for thirteen years. I can survive, unlike some of the others, some of whom would have taken their own lives if not for transitioning.

I wonder why I flirt with such a dangerous decision before having any clarity of my own, or before I explore other options.

...

I still remember the time when I said I was not proud of my own masculinity. It's where the statement of my rejection of my own masculinity came from. Yet, as people around me tell me that men can reject masculinity, I start to lose the ground which I stood on. I don't know how to explain how I felt that rejection and shame of my own masculinity on such a level that felt so fundamental to my being.

I still don't know how to explain it. But maybe I'm just thinking in binaries again, the same thing I told my ex-partner not to do.

I remember when I first touched my ex-partner's chest. It was my hand, under her shirt. Of course, me, being me, at the time, I'd enjoyed it. Sexually. It only took a year, or two years of that, for a little inkling of a voice within me to wish for her features. Again, like the thought of not wanting to be a guy anymore, the feeling of missing something on my chest crept up on me, too soft for me to hear it over the noise of my life then, but I hear it now. I still feel it sometimes, when I sling the sling of my bag (wow I really love using the word sling) over my shoulders. I occasionally have the feeling like I should have something more, where my chest is. Either that, or I'm aware of how bare my chest is (and I get the compulsion to cover up).

Looking back now... it makes sense as to why I always wanted to be in close physical contact with her. She has the features I don't have, but want. Maybe the motivations for that desire are sexual. Maybe they're not. I don't know now. Will I ever know?

What do I say? That you're my boyfriend?

That sentence strikes me the wrong way, especially within the later parts of the relationship that I had. The initial thought was that I was not worthy enough of a partner to be my partner's boyfriend.

Now that I come to think about it, though, there was a certain element of not being able to connect with the boy in boyfriend. Either that, or I saw my partner as my equal. Not a treasure.

I didn't understand why the boyfriends in the couples I saw around me acted the way they did. I never could see myself in them.

But, maybe... just... maybe, there was no love in that relationship.

I found my role as the boyfriend utterly... repulsive. I hated it when she referred to me as her boyfriend. I just wanted to be there for my partner. What was wrong with it? Why couldn't I do it on my own terms? (Maybe I'm aromantic, but who knows?)

Come to think about it, the way I approached our relationship dynamics was pretty similar to an approach a same-sex (or same-gender) couple would take - there were no gender roles for either to fulfill, just roles to be taken up, as per an agreement, or to either partner's strengths.

I suppose that's why I drove my partner away. I couldn't fulfill what she asked of me. Either that, or the jealousy I harbored towards her slice of life, and how she lived, drove the wedge between us, even before I told her I wanted to not be a guy. Either that, or it's other things, like sociopathic tendencies, or depression.

Yet, I don't know how much of this is tainted by my anger. Or by the emotions that I have been feeling these couple of months. Take all this with a mountain of salt. Better yet, with an entire galaxy cluster's worth of salt.

Day three on estrogen will come upon me, after I sleep.

May it grant the clarity I seek.

...

cool song time, for I've been a fool

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loopy-froots · 3 years

Text

Childhood Friends

Brahms Heelshire x afab!Reader

Author: @loopy-froots

Word Count: 3261 (WOW wtf…)

Slight request by @leahromanof : small age gap (Brahms is 26-28 and the reader is 20)

Summary: The Reader grew up very close to the Heelshire family, as their parents were business partners with them. However, after the fire incident, Brahms and the Reader took some space from each other. While the Reader knew Brahms was still alive, they didn’t know under the circumstances he was. When a sudden tragedy strikes their family, the Reader is left with no home. The Heelshire family offer their home with welcoming arms, but much has changed between all of them since they have last seen each other.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, swearing, slasher x reader, smut, virgin/unprotected sex (masc and fem), abusive parents (fem), insecurities (on both parts), slight age gap (6ish years?), a slight size kink (if you squint?), etc.

Author’s Note: I wasn’t too sure what to write for the age gap so I hope this is good enough!!! I also threw in a lot of personal needs I’ve been having, so I hope y’all don’t mind! Feel free to let me know your thoughts!!!

~~~

*2nd Person POV*

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You were finally going to see your beloved childhood friend, Brahms Heelshire, again after close to ten years of separation. You wished this was not under these circumstances, as you never intended to cause your family such turmoil.

“Y/n! Come in, why don’t you?” Mr. Heelshire exclaims as he opens his front door. He must have seen you walk up their driveway. You can see Mrs. Heelshire inside, but she shares a concerning expression. Trying to brush it off, you step inside and am greeted by the warmth of the house. It was a terribly chilly winter day, and the walk there exhausted you.

“Come, dear! Let me get you a cup of tea to warm you up! You look rather frozen!” Mrs. Heelshire snaps out of her funk and laughs al0ng with her husband. Their jovial attitude makes you feel rather welcomed and loved.

“I cannot thank you enough, Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire… I… I’m terribly sorry that this all happened… especially so suddenly…” You look down with embarrassment.

“Nonsense! We’re always happy to have you, Y/n! Our home is yours!” Mr. Heelshire smiles at you, but you get a somewhat urgent vibe from him. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you figure since they’re being ever so kind you were in no position to question.

“Now, dear… why don’t you tell us exactly what happened… Perhaps we may help with your parents’ situation?” Mrs. Heelshire gently suggests, but you shake your head in disagreement.

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure that’s possible… you see, I recently came out to my parents as non-binary… they’ve never been overly supportive of that kind of stuff, but I knew I couldn’t hide myself any longer…” You explain shamefully.

“Oh my… that is a rather difficult predicament, hm? However, we want you to know that we fully support you… in fact, our own Brahms considers himself genderfluid,” Mrs. Heelshire shares, which honestly makes you feel less alone.

“Really? I… I had no idea… Thank you, but speaking of which… where is Brahms…? Does he still live with you?” You wonder.

“Oh, um… yes… he does, but he’s grown to be rather… timid… so he doesn’t always come out when people are visiting…” Mr. Heelshire explains swiftly, and you try to understand. You don’t fully know what he’s been through, so who are you to judge his social anxieties?

“That’s alright. Well, I just hope he knows how excited I am to see him again…” You confess, causing a surprised reaction from the Heelshire couple.

“Really? Well, that’s certainly wonderful! I’m sure he'll become more open to meeting you after he gets used to you being in the house…” Mrs. Heelshire states with a gentle smile, and you nod your head in agreement.

With that, you are then taken on a tour of the house. You’re shown areas you can and cannot wander to, and you mentally note each location that’s off limits. You’d never want to make the Heelshires uncomfortable, despite how curious you were. They show you to your room, which you immediately recognize as Brahms’ childhood room.

“Oh wow! This looks exactly how I remembered it!” You giggle.

“I’m glad you’re fond of it still, as Brahms insisted you take his room for your own… comfort…” Mr. Heelshire shares, but something tells you he’s not entirely being honest. However, you ignore the feeling bubbling up in your stomach.

“Well, feel free to unpack your things dear. As we mentioned before, we are planning on going on a trip within the next few days. So it will be just you and Brahms for a while…” Mrs. Heelshire reminds you, and you shiver slightly for some reason.

“Oh, yes… Well, I hope the two of you enjoy it!” You politely respond.

~~~

“Goodbye, dear! And remember, follow the rules and you’ll get no trouble from our dear Brahms!” The Heelshires bid you farewell and leave in their cab. Closing the door, you sigh in relief.

“Alright, follow the rules… I can do that… it’s the least I can do since they were so kind as to let me stay for a while…” You motivate yourself.

“Y/n…” A sudden familiar, childlike voice echoes through the house. You looked around to see who it came from, but you saw no one. It had to be Brahms, right? Who else could it have been, but where was he?

“B-Brahms?” You sheepishly call out. You hear no answer and suddenly feel quite stupid. Maybe you just heard the shifting of the house or imagined someone was calling your name?

“Alright, focus… first things first, making some lunch… hopefully he’ll come down to eat with me…?” You hope. You could’ve sworn you heard another childish giggle somewhere, but you try to shake the skittish feeling building up. You quickly make whatever you feel like for lunch, desperate to finish so that you can call Brahms down to eat.

“Um, Brahms? I… lunch is done… if you want some?” You yell throughout the house, but you hear no answer. Finally feeling defeat, you turn back to the kitchen and notice that one of the plates of food has disappeared.

“How did he get to it without me noticing?” You ask out loud. Every instinct within you tells you that something was wrong, but you tried your best to give the man some time to adjust to the new living situation.

“Y/n…?” In the middle of eating, you hear a now more adult version of the voice you heard earlier. You drop your fork in surprise and frantically look around for the source. You then see a tall and scruffy looking man standing at the end of the dining room. He was holding the plate that is now empty, and you figure that must be Brahms. He was very odd looking, in all honesty. He wore a porcelain mask that resembles the type of little dollies you used to keep as a kid.

“Oh, um… h-hello, Brahms…?” You try to be friendly towards him, despite the creepy feeling you got from him already. However, him not answering causes the suspicion to form again.

“Um… did you enjoy the meal I made for you?” You try to spark a conversation, but Brahms nonverbally nods in response.

“That’s good! I’m… glad…” You smile awkwardly at him, but his masked face remains expressionless. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, and Brahms notices the tense state you’re in. He begins to step closer to you, and sets his plate on the table. Sweating profusely, you wonder what he’s doing. He steps closer and closer to you until he’s directly in front of you. While you sit, he towers over you. You’d never admit it, but he’s very intimidating. However, you try your best to be polite.

“Is… everything alright, Brahms?” You ask innocently. He just stares at you, though, never saying a word. When you were about to get up and try to walk away, he grabs your arm and pulls you into him.

“B-Brahms…?!” You exclaim as he squeezes you in his broad arms. He’s rather warm, but trembling. Your heart relaxes when you realize he only wanted a hug.

“Y/n… nice to see you again…” He finally peeps out. Your cheeks heat up, but you lean into the embrace. The two of you just hold onto each other for a few moments, enjoying each other’s presence.

“Good to see you, too! I was worried you were upset with me for coming back after such a long time…” You try to pull away and look him in the eyes, but his grip keeps you there.

“Mm, no… not upset… lonely…” He breathes into your ear, sending a chill down your back. He was… lonely? That makes you feel bad… really bad… how could you leave him like you did after the incident?! It wasn’t completely your fault, as you parents were the main reason you stayed away. They told you what a dangerous person Brahms was, and they forbid you from being influenced by him in any way.

Additionally, your parents never liked how fond the two of you seemed towards each other, despite the slight age difference you had. Brahms was only six years older, and to you it didn’t matter for terms of friendship. However, your parents saw the attraction Brahms had towards you right away. As children, it only developed into a little crush, but the older the two of you got the more obvious it became, to the adults at least. You seemed quite oblivious to his attempts to woo you, as you had just thought he was being friendly.

“I…I’m sorry, Brahms… I should’ve… I wish I’d have… I’m sorry…” Tear well in your eyes as you look down from his gaze. Your focus then shifts to the ever growing bulge in his pants that you hadn’t noticed before.

“It’s alright… happy you’re here now…” Brahms strokes your hair with his free hand, and he leans into you. You feel him stroke your neck with his nose, seemingly trying to get a reaction out of you. Completely frozen, you felt unsure of what to do. All of the sudden, your head’s ideas clicked and made you realize the years of yearning he’d been doing for you.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t still have feelings for the boy you grew up with. You always admired how protective he was of you. You never admitted your affection towards him, though, as you thought he might react negatively. To you, the age difference acted as a barrier, but to him, it seemed he didn’t mind in the slightest. All he’s ever known was his love for you, despite the age gap. However, is this still the same boy as before? You probably barely knew him anymore. Then why were you getting so flustered over this simple interaction?

“Brahms?” You look back into his eyes with a curious glint. What was he planning with you?

“Hm?” He nonchalantly answers.

“Are you…?” You start, but then feel too embarrassed to finish.

“Yes,” He agrees without needing you to explain. You feel him jerk his hips into your stomach softly, desperate to get some friction between the two of you. As intoxicating as he was being, you still felt unsure of your stance with him.

“I’m not sure I want to… I mean, this is so soon… don’t you think?” You try to reason mainly with yourself to try and stop this from happening. With that, Brahms stops and pulls away from you with a pout.

“No?” He questions with sweet eyes.

“I… yes…?” You try to stand your ground with yourself again, but it’s no use. Brahms’ heartfelt pleading turns you to putty in his hands.

“Please?” He begs. With that, you finally agree, and he’s onto you. Groping all up and down your sides, front, and back, he feels every inch of your body as if he’s desperate to find something in you.

“Brahms… wait…?” You stop him again, realizing you hadn’t seen his actual face yet. You politely ask him to remove his mask, but he visibly slumps.

“Why…? You… don’t want to see me…” Brahms insecurely explains, but you shake your head.

“I do! Please…?” You whine as he continues to feel up your back. Brahms hesitates slightly, then agrees. With that, he slowly removes the porcelain from himself. This leaves his bare, burnt, and uncertain face into your view. You’re unsure of what to say at first, as your feelings are conflicted. However, you quickly decide to go with what your heart felt.

“You’re so handsome, Brahms…” You confess with a sheepish smile. He doesn’t respond, though, almost as if he’s debating what to say as well.

“Mm!” You moan through a sudden kiss he placed on your lips, making Brahms smile to himself in the kiss. He loved the way you reacted to his touch. He quickly realized you were feeling the same towards him, and that gave him the confidence to continue. You rapidly grew a certain heat in your pelvic area, but the feeling was still unfamiliar to you. Only on the rare occasion did you allow yourself the pleasure, but you felt guilty for it every time.

“Slut… whore… useless daughter…” Your parents’ past words radiate in your head, and a panic washes over your body. Brahms senses your inner conflict again, and stops once more.

“Y/n…?” He gently asks to see if you’re alright. Tears well up in your eyes as the guilt of disappointing your parents consumes you.

“I’m sorry, I just… my mom and dad would be so upset… I just feel so… lost…” You admit, and Brahms wipes your cheeks with his calloused hands.

“Mm, screw them…” He chuckles darkly.

“But…” You try to argue, but he shushes you instead.

“They’ve never been good to you, Y/n…” Brahms shares, and it confuses you at first. They’ve always given you food, shelter, and anything else a child would need.

“But they… they mean well…” You try to reason it out, but he still disagrees.

“I’ve been watching, listening to how they treat you your whole life, Y/n… the way they scream at you, gaslight you, disappoint you… that’s not love… that’s abuse…” Brahms whispers with a broken heart for you. The pain of realization hits you, but you try to muffle your cries with your hands over your mouth.

“I’m so sorry… I know how hard it is… but I… I want to love you… really love you…” He kisses the top of your head sweetly. His words fill your heart with hope that you might not be miserable the rest of your life.

“Really…? I mean, I would love that… but I don’t want to force you into anything…” You self doubt yourself.

“Absolutely. I mean, hell… why do you think I was doing all of this?” Brahms wonders, and you suppose he’s right.

“Yeah, true… I’m sorry, I just feel bad… but thank you, I’d love to… y’know…?” You admit with a shy grin, which he immediately returns.

“Good,” He smirks and kisses you again. This time, the kiss was much more desperate for the sweet result. Brahms shows no mercy for you this time as he begins biting your lips. Your little gasps invoke a strong sense of pride within him. He was making you feel this way, and he alone would make you feel good.

“Hm,” His deep voice rumbles in his chest. Your eyes flutter open and shut, unsure of how to go about this situation. Squirming around awkwardly, you then feel Brahms grab your waist as he lifts you up and onto the table.

“Ah! Brahms...?!” You yelp in surprise.

“Take off your shirt, Y/n.” He demands, already sliding his hands underneath. You timidly follow his instructions, removing your shirt and bra from your body. Brahms looks down from your face and onto your breasts. He adored them, so he ran his hands over them as he gave each nipple a cheeky pinch.

“Oh, Brahms…” Your eyes close in bliss, but he snaps your attention back to his eyes.

“Look at me,” He suggests sternly.

“O-okay…” You do as he wishes and stare deep into his icy eyes. He’s tender and gentle, but he still makes you feel so small next to him.

“You’re so pretty, Y/n… I’ve always loved you…” Brahms brushes a stray lock of hair out of your face, giving him a better view at your beauty.

“I have loved you for the longest time, too, Brahms… I just never knew how to tell you…” You try your best to express your feelings, but your past experience with doing so has never been easy for you. Each emotion you shared ended in an argument with your parents.

“I’m so glad… please…” Brahms pleads, leaning his forehead against yours. He didn’t have to finish for you to understand what he wanted.

“C’mere…” Your sudden burst of trust hits the two of you like a train. Brahms roughly attacks your neck with his lips and teeth, nipping at all your sensitive areas. Exploring each and every inch, he scopes out which areas you like best.

“Mm, Y/n…” He whimpers, rubbing his needy cock against your body. You had neglected it for far too long, and you wanted to give it some love too.

Lowering your hand down to his member, you stroke him through his pants. Pre-cum leaks from his tip and soaks through his underwear slightly. His moans fill your ears with sweet misery. The lack of being inside of you was killing him, but he wanted to take things slow for you.

“Ah, Y/n…! Please! I’ll be a good boy!” He begs you to allow him entrance, and you agree. Instantaneously, he pulls his clothes off and prepares his painfully hard cock to slide into you.

“Oh! You feel… so tight…!” He didn’t tell you, but this was his first time as well. The first feeling of being inside of someone, especially when that someone is you, was the best feeling he’s ever felt. He couldn’t help himself but pump in and out of you. He tried his best to go slow, but his selfish excitement got the better of him. However, you were far from upset by this.

“Ah! D-don’t… stop…!” You plead with him, and he obliges. Slapping his body into yours in a rhythmic motion causes you to quickly feel that coil in your stomach tighten around him.

“F-fuck…! You’re gonna make me…!” As quickly as it started, your love making ended. The two of you came together simultaneously, and everything felt perfect to you. However, Brahms felt a wave of guilt.

“I… I’m sorry… I wish I had lasted longer… and I shouldn’t have pressured you into this…” He goes on and on about all the things he could’ve done better, but you then stop him with a chaste peck on his lips.

“You were perfect. Thank you,” You lovingly look into his eyes. He searches for any sort of regret, but when he finds none he settles into your arms.

~~~

MY REQUESTS FOR DRAWING AND WRITING ARE STILL OPEN!! FEEL FREE TO SEND AN ASK/MESSAGE WITH YOUR IDEA!!

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sixeyesgojo · 3 years

Text

dad time // Gojo day 2020 ♥

Summary: in which Gojo practically adopted you as his kid.

Pairing: Dad!Gojo and his kiddo, Shoko is the cool and drunk auntie

Word count: 1,252

Content warning: not for the weak heart because this is SOFT

A/N: I wrote and posted this on AO3 on Gojo day 2020. posting this for comfort after today’s chapter <3

Dad!Gojo will be a series (requested via AO3) and this is the kick-off of said series. More to come in the next few days as I slowly construct this blog. Let me know if you want to be included in a taglist or something - just shoot me a message!

If there was anything Gojo learned from this, it was that time passed quickly. Almost too quick for him. Not that he ever regretted saving you that day on the street.

It happened on one of his missions. He had been sent to exorcise this certain first grade curse in Nanami's stead. The latter had been injured severely in his previous mission. Nanami claimed that he was fine after having been healed by Shoko but the woman sternly insisted that he would rest for a day until he was completely fine again. For Gojo's favorite junior - whom he loved to the point that he wrote very short but endearing letters at least once a week - Gojo had agreed to take on the mission instead. After all, his students could fend for themselves for a day, as he believed in them.

The curse was nothing too special, at least not to Gojo. He had, once again, exorcised it in the blink of an eye after arriving in the nick of time. He was about to depart when his ears registered a whimper nearby. Turning around, he scanned the area until he caught a glimpse of a little shivering and crying mess that was you. Behind you were two charred corpses that reeked of cursed energy; you had been lucky to not have been hit by the curse's cursed technique.

Damn, hadn't he come so late, they two probably still be alive, Gojo thought. He let out a sigh and picked you up. "I'll bring you to a place where it's safe for you," he spoke softly, then warped away while carrying you as the curtain dissolved.

You were two years old at that time.

And so, three years passed, just like water flowing in a river. Though admittedly, he had an ulterior motive of raising you into a responsible adult - which had proven to be hard - and formidable Jujutsu Sorcerer to walk alongside him, Gojo had taken you under his wing and fully adapted to his role as a foster parent quite quickly. The beginning was a little rough as you just kept wailing and he was restless, not knowing what to do, but he had somehow managed. He had the means to do so, after all.

It was one of Gojo's rare days when he knew he would get off work earlier than usual and he promised that he would spend the whole day with you. So, here you were, waiting for your foster dad to come out. You were wearing a shirt he had gifted you as a souvenir after coming home after a long day: it was a black shirt with white lettering that said "if lost, return to the strongest dad". Gojo loved this shirt so much, he had gotten himself a matching "I'm the strongest dad" counterpart. Of course, you had it with you because you liked the idea of matching with your favorite person in the world.

Holding Shoko's hand while waiting for Gojo in front of the school building, you had been bugging her for the last 30 minutes by asking repeatedly, "When will daddy come, auntie?" to which she would reply with a smile, saying, "Patience, kiddo." Shoko had always played a big part in your life, being one of your dad's very few close friends. She had always been like an aunt to you and you loved her dearly. But your #1 and utmost favorite person in this world was still your childish dad.

"Auntie, my feet hurt," you pouted. Wordlessly, Shoko picked your small form up. Your little fist resting against her shoulders, holding Gojo's shirt.

After some more waiting, the door finally opened, revealing a certain white-haired sorcerer with a big grin on his face. "Ohh? Look who it is! It's my favorite little munchkin!" Gojo exclaimed and Shoko could almost see the happiness in him manifesting around him. He was as dorky as always. Your little fist held out the shirt to him as you pouted. He understood right away as he eyed you. Taking the shirt from you, he saluted with a joking voice, "As you wish!" With a snap of his finger, he was wearing the shirt already. His blindfold also switched with casual shades.

"Thanks for babysitting, Shoko," he turned to her and thanked his colleague and friend to which the said person replied, "It was a pleasure to hang out with Y/N, as usual." You kissed your beloved auntie on the cheek ("Goodbye auntie!!") before she let you down so you could take your rightful place, which was on Gojo's shoulders. He always carried you like this when the two of you spent time in town. It was a simple gesture but you always felt like you could conquer the world (or at least as far as you could see from up there).

"Where do you want to go, sweetie?" the sorcerer asked as he hoisted you onto his shoulders. "Dad, I want to go eat ice cream!!" you voiced your wish. Like dad, like kid, Gojo thought as he smiled. "I was thinking the same thing, Y/N! Wanna go to our usual place and get the special sundae with me?" he suggested. You nodded enthusiastically before realizing he probably would not see your nod. "Sure! But only if you don't gobble down all of my vanilla scoops again..." you said and puffed your cheeks.

"Aww, baby, I'm soooooo sorry. I acknowledge that it was, in fact, pretty mean of me but I reeeeeaaaaaally couldn't control myself last time," Gojo chuckled, "This time you'll get a biiiiig share of my part, okay? It's a promise."

The tall sorcerer treated the both of you to a big sundae of 20 scoops, which you shared, at your favorite ice cream parlor. As promised, he let you have a considerably big share of his part. Usually, kids would be satisfied with just that - but not you. You were Gojo's kid after all, taking very well after him and his horrible sweet tooth after all these years of being together with him - and he knew that well. This was exactly how following ice cream, the two of you happily spent time eating kikufuku, cotton candy, daifuku and the like. It truly is a miracle you haven't ended up with dental caries yet.

If there was anything Gojo loved in this world, it would be spoiling you rotten. He would stop at nothing to make you happy and carefree as these emotions being displayed on your face were his favorite. Seeing you smile never ceased to make his heart beat a little harder out of his own happiness. Talking about spoiling you rotten: on that day, he had bought you new clothes (since you started growing out of your old ones), a few new plushies you had eyed and restocked your secret candy stash ("but do not tell auntie Shoko about this, okay?").

After spending a wonderful day and enjoying dinner with your dad, the two of you went home hand in hand.

Later on, he tucked you into bed as it was time for you to sleep. "Dad, thanks for today. I love you," you said and he replied with a kiss on your cheek and a chuckle, "I know, I love myself too." You rolled your eyes.

The Jujutsu world may fear this man but to you, he was just your dorky dad whom you loved more than any other person in this world.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo as dad #dad!gojo #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #papa!gojo

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endlich-allein · 3 years

Text

Interview with Till about his life: he fought with his father, killed his beloved dog, swam on a wild river and worked on suffering. How Till Lindemann's mind works

"I will finish you off" and why you fought for the German army.

Werner Lindemann wanders around the room, interrupting the silence with strange questions, writing something down. His motive is to get to know his son and make him a friend. But it's complicated. Generational conflict.

"My island of tranquility is shaken every day. The day before yesterday, a guy pulled on my socks because his were torn. Yesterday he didn't put out a single lamp in the house. Now, with voluptuous delight, he spits cherry pits into the cat's fur. Is this grown boy really an adult?"

The apprenticeship in Rostock, where you have to do window production after graduation, is the limit of boredom. Till Lindemann moved to his father in the countryside so that he could forget about the hustle and bustle of the city and not fall under the article for anti-social attitudes. He thought of a new life, in which there was no pointless work, and arranged an attic in his father's house.

In the mornings over coffee, he scolded life that everything went according to schedule. And listened very loudly to music - electronics and metal. My father didn't understand and grumbled: “I matured late. Naturally, I wanted to listen to the music I liked, but I could not get my hands on these records. For example, my father did not understand when I bought the Alice Cooper record for a month's salary.

Werner Lindemann was a children's writer who went through the war.

At the height of his career he disappeared for weeks on literary tours - his fame spread to teachers and librarians across the country. His father pecked at Lindemann for refusing to work and promised to turn him in:

"My willful child. What doesn't fit his standards is rejected as nonsense or crap." So he took a job as a carpenter, where he made shovel cuttings and cart wheels. The head foreman constantly drank vodka during the day, didn't want to be annoyed with questions and addressed the long-haired Lindemann with the nickname: "Mozart!" This suited him.

Werner Lindemann talked about war, hard existence and limitations. For example, about a grenade splinter that remained in his body. Lindemann did not believe in all these stories - but categorically did not accept service, war and murder:

“After that I objected: “I would hide, I would not go to war. Why did you even let yourself be dragged into this? You could have hidden."

And he said: “It didn't work out. They searched for it and it took away."

Then I said: “I would rather go under arrest. Never in my life, I would go to the front line to shoot people. It's against my nature. It would be better if I went to jail."

Much of the time father and son were simply silent, even while watching television.

"He regularly made me feel guilty, to say the least, he placed himself on a pedestal towards me: I shouldn't complain. At your age, I ran barefoot through the stubble, and in my stomach - a potato in a uniform."

The only acceptance is Mike Oldfield's music: "One day my father came to grumble again. At that moment I was listening to Mike Oldfield, and he sat down and said: "That sounds interesting."

For me it was like a quantum leap: my father sits in my room, listens to my music and thinks it was good. Probably because of melancholy. He was sitting in a rocking chair that I made myself - at the time I was working as a carpenter on a farm. I, too, always sat in an armchair, immersed myself in music and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes."

The conflict was intensified by a fight. Lindemann bought a Trabant car, installed speakers in it and tested the sound - loud as usual. “Then my father came and I had to turn off this fucking music. It was kind of loud for him. He was then fiddling around his cases of flowers, and then suddenly the situation escalated. I think he slapped me while I was still in the car.

He leaned toward me and hit me with the back of his hand. I made some bullshit remarks like, "Leave me alone," something like that. That was a provocation to him, and he said: "If you do that again, I'll hit you for real." And I said, "Then you'll get it back. Because you're crazy. Don't you dare to hit me anymore."

And then he hit me with his palm again. He wasn't controlling himself.

He was exalting himself. Instantly he introduced himself as a boxer - he had boxed in the Hitler Youth - and I just... I thought I didn't hit him, I just pushed him away. And then he stood in front of me again, "Come on, I'll finish you, you haven't got a chance!" Somehow. After that, he went up to the attic and threw all my stuff out the window.

It happened over the weekend, my sister was there, a lot of screaming, serious drama. Then I packed my things, put them in the car, went to a friend's house and never went into his house again. At first I lived with this friend, and a week later I bought myself a house in the village."

His father's book is about his son, which the son will only open up after the death of the father.

Lindemann is a late child. He was born when his father was 36. The gap in their relationship was felt in everyday life and perception of the world. Werner Lindemann woke up early in the morning, worked with the circular saw under the windows and did not understand when his son slept until noon after a working week.

Lindemann's parents then lived separately, but kept in touch. Mom worked as a journalist and discussed her texts with his father. "She still lived in Rostock and always came to see him only on weekends. Mostly on Sundays she came back quite early, because she couldn't stand the stress of being with him, either."

In 1988, the book “Mike Oldfield im Schaukelstuhl Notizen eines Vaters" In this book, Lindemann Senior describes the relationship with his son (whom he calls Timm in the book), who settled with him at the age of 18. The book was written in the 80s and laid on the table until the German Democratic Republic and the Federal Republic of Germany were reunited.

Werner Lindemann wanted his son to take up writing too. But this only amused him, although as a child he wrote poetry. At the age of 13, little Till Lindemann and his father were returning home along the bumpy road to Mecklenburg. They talked about career self-determination:

"You should already have thoughts about what you want to become, boy." My answer: "I don't know yet, maybe a fisherman on the high seas."

But immediately, no matter what I said, objections arose: “But then you have to get a certificate of maturity. But then you will be away all the time. But then you won't be able to start a relationship."

There was always a “but”.

At some point it got on my nerves, as usual. And I said: "Worst case scenario, I'll just become a writer.

I still remember how alienated his face became. "And what do you think then, what do I do! It's a very hard job! In fact, it's not even a job, it's a passion. And it's a job that's supposed to be enjoyable."

I said, "I don't know anybody who works with pleasure."

"Yeah, that's the problem. You have to look for a job that gives you pleasure." Then I say again, "But some people never get to choose..." This gigantic discussion happened because I didn't take his profession seriously. At the same time, he was completely lost, funny!"

Lindemann thoughtfully read his father's book, in which he comprehends their relationship, after his death. Faked for hidden anger and indecision. For example, in a situation where their dog Kurt was bitten by a fox. The father was frightened because of rabies: “At the same time, we did not even know whether he was bitten by a fox or not. The father immediately called the huntsman. But I said: no one will enter this courtyard and shoot the dog. I'll do it myself if I really need it. At some point I really had to kill the dog."

Lindemann is not a monster. The animals he fiddled with are an important attribute of childhood. He had an aquarium and hamsters, brought mice and rats home, and was friends with dogs. “Like many children of new buildings, he felt the need for someone alive, in need of love,” said Werner Lindemann. Sometimes the appearance of an animal in the house was surprising:

“This guy will never say what he's up to. He appears on the doorstep at the same time as me. He gets out from his vehicle, throws his coat open and puts a young black shepherd in my hands. "Your Christmas present!"

Till's father is speechless. My son stands before me like the sun's little brother. Touchingly concerned, he directs me into the house, working out a plan for the animal husbandry, accommodation and diet of our new pet housemate.

With confusion, a question flies from my lips, "Wheredid you get the dog from?" "Timm" is gibbering, "Imagine, the mason in the barnyard wanted to hang him, simply wanted to strangle him with a rope, said he was a worthless eater..."

Werner Lindemann died of stomach cancer in 1993, when his son was 30. They didn't finally reconcile, but Till visited him in his last days and was there for him with his mother: "They couldn't be without each other, even though they lived apart. Unreal, but my mother never had another man afterwards. To this day she can't let go of him."

- Not going to the Olympics in Moscow and ending up in the German ghetto

Lindemann had the knowledge and the potential to be a swimmer. And a shyness that pounded harder three days before the competition than concerts in front of crowds of thousands. "I know how difficult it is to develop willpower and stamina and instill those attributes. In the GDR this was instilled in us by coaches and so-called functionaries."

Lindemann came to swimming at the age of eight and devoted his entire youth to the sport. He would get up for training at five in the morning and pass out in the evening. His grandmother watched him from the stands. At a competition in Leipzig she shouted at the coach, who told Lindemann off for a poor result. The grandmother took the coach by the ear and said: "How do you talk to my grandson?"

Sports tightened up his upbringing and developed self-discipline. “Drilling - probably the boy has already received this experience as a swimmer,” Lindemann's father wrote. - Once he had to take second place in a competition, but by no means first place. Of course, he got carried away, forgot about it, became the first, thanks to which he received a shouting for indiscipline. And whenever he lost in the future, his coach would torture him at practice for a long time and yelled at him: "Even if you win, you're not a winner yet!"

Lindemann swam the 1.5 km freestyle and could have gone to the 1980 Olympics in Moscow. Everything was ruined when he left the hotel without permission during a competition in Florence: "I didn't want to run, but just wanted to look at the city. Cars, bikes, girls. I was caught and kicked out of the team, but then I didn't give the required results either."

Lindemann competed at the European Junior Championships, but did not go any higher. After the story in Florence, his career in sport slipped away. Perhaps an abdominal injury influenced his departure. Lindemann is gone, but he doesn't yearn: "I was relatively young. There were no good [memories] left. I was glad it was over."

"The hardest part was getting back to normal. I fell into a real hole. My home was no longer a sports school, but a ghetto in Rostock. Now I stood out through drinking and fighting. I used to be surrounded only by beautiful ladies who were interested in swimming. Now I had fierce women standing in front of me asking, "How come you don't drink?" When I was shy about approaching a girl, it was interpreted as: "Are you gay?"

Lindemann now works with a coach and swims a few kilometers before his tours to get in shape: "When I exercise, I feel a certain lightness - not only physically, but also mentally. I just feel better. The main problem is staying in shape. That's where self-discipline comes into play. Teeth grinding is important."

- Three weeks in the wild and loneliness as a creative tool

Emotionally, concerts = sports:

"How do I go on tour? Hungry. And happy. It is good to compare concerts with sport. You don't want to do both at first. You don't want to go on stage. You don't want to go to the pool. You don't want to go to the boxing ring. It all happens with reluctance. It has to be accepted somehow, that's life: spring, summer, fall, winter.

When it's done, winter's gone, the blooming begins, greenery appears, it gets bright, and you start to get a taste for it. When it's over, you feel happy. Then the body produces a sea of chemistry, a lot of happiness hormones. I think the body rewards itself."

The stage, like sports, is an embarrassment, but a necessity. Lindemann wore dark glasses in order to collect fewer views from the audience. Therefore, a couple of steps before the water, he looked at the pool with a shiver. You need to cope with yourself in order to open up to new emotions.

Lindemann's gut requires solitude and moderate solitude. This is the point:

“Loneliness is always good for a creative push - you drink a glass of wine and you feel even shitier. Art is not complete without suffering; art exists to compensate for suffering."

With his friend Joey Kelly, Lindemann spent three weeks on the Yukon River. They paddled through the wilderness in a kayak for eight to 10 hours each and lived in a tent. Lindemann didn't take a tape recorder with him, so he transferred the lyrics wandering in his head on paper.

They were catching inspiration and atmosphere:

"There were times when we wouldn't say a word for hours, but then: look there, look there! It was breathtakingly beautiful. These relatively fast-changing panoramas and skies, layers of clouds, the colors.

Except for a few bears and wolves, it's hard to see anyone else out there, it's exhilarating. Along the way we saw two hunters setting traps. No one else.

I grew up in the countryside, and I have a very strong connection to nature. I love fishing, hunting. It's an archaic experience that I like to revisit over and over again. When I'm in the city for too long, I start to miss it."

To recreate situations in the Yukon, Lindemann and Kelly trained for nine months on the Rhine river in Germany because of its liveliness.

"We went down the Rhine to where the transport ships create huge bow waves. If we hadn't had a coach with us, we probably would have been sunk by the side wave impact already during our first attempt," Lindemann said.

Together with Kelly, he had four sessions with two coaches and swam from Cologne to Koblenz [more than 100 kilometers by car]. Lindemann trained separately each week on the lakes in Mecklenburg. It's both physically challenging and savage identical to being natural.

In 2015, Till started his solo project Lindemann. On the album Skills In Pills, the song Yukon was released, in which the lyrics appeared first, and then the music.

- "My lyrics come from pain rather than desire."

The country boy is big and not much of a talker. That's how the Rammstein members saw him at the start, when they were hanging out at home. "He looked cool, like a big peasant talking one sentence an hour," keyboard player Christian "Flake" Lorenz recalled. - He always had food and vodka. He'd just steal a couple of ducks somewhere and cook them on a tray. And then, frozen like in Sleeping Beauty, there were people lying in corners and on trunks in his house."

Lindemann loves and appreciates home gatherings. This came from my father, who always had guests. “In my opinion, this is the little bit that I inherited from him. Throwing parties and gathering people. Throwing parties and getting people together. He just enjoyed being a good host. The house was always full of guests from Leipzig, from Rostock, foreign guests, even from Kazakhstan.

It was always exciting for him. He stood at the stove, cooked, bought an abundance of wine, and there was always a fire in the garden. At some point he stopped drinking, then he left the party at 21:00 and the whole company continued to feast. And in the morning he got up at four, cleaned and tidied up."

Till Lindemann is about self-digging, overcoming and childish shyness, which is covered by a pumped-up figure of a swimmer. This is how Lindemann decrypts himself:

• “And I really am like a big child - ill-mannered, but harmless. People think that I am always strong, explosive. This is not true. I am sensitive and easily hurt, but in love I am romantic and passionate."

• “At the very beginning, you sit somewhere in a dark room, open a bottle of wine and figure out how to make the lyrics popular with the music. At first you only have a vague idea of what it could be.

And when, three years after recording, mixing, and more mixing, developing the artwork, all this nonsense, then you stand on stage, and what you came up with then really works, when you manage to get 20 thousand people to raise their hands, then you experience incredible sensations."

• “Art is a kind of therapy.

When I feel that something is arising inside me, domineering and is most often dark, I need to give it a way out, otherwise it will simply crush me. So destruction and self-destruction are the two pillars on which my creativity is based.

But everyone chooses this for himself.

• “My lyrics arise from feelings and dreams, but still more from pain than by desire. I often have nightmares, and I wake up at night sweating, as I see terrible bloody scenes in my dreams. My lyrics are a kind of valve for the lava of feelings in my soul.

We are all struggling to hide behind good manners and outward decency, but in fact we are governed by instincts and feelings: hunger, thirst, horror, hatred, the desire for power and sex. Of course, there is also additional energy in us - this is love. Without it, all human feelings would fade away."

- "When you're constantly living someone else's life, it's very hard to get back into your own skin. I like that in principle, but sometimes you start to get confused - are you out of a role or not yet. You're already Till, or you're still a homicidal maniac."

- "I hate the noise. I hate the chatter. I expose myself to it, which is pure masochism. And then I have to protect myself from it. Noise makes you crazy. You die in it."

• “I think there is no God. And if he is and actually allows all the misfortunes on this earth, then he must punish me along with other sufferings. I will not pray to such a god."

This is how the members of Rammstein see Till - flexible and with a split personality:

Guitarist Paul Landers: "Till is so good that when you let him know that his lyrics should go in a different direction, the very next day he brings a new version of the song."

Guitarist Richard Kruspe: “He's a hell of an extreme man. He dives very deeply into situations where I cannot follow him. Everything he does is very extreme; I don't know anyone who does it. "

Drummer Christoph Schneider: "I would not want to be in Till's shoes: his soul is tormented by doubts and contradictions, he is equally a moralist and a monster."

June 1, 2021 - Translate by Lindemann Belgium

#very interesting #till's life #till is love 🖤#till lindemann #till 2021 #werner lindemann #flake lorenz #paul landers #christoph schneider #richard kruspe #oliver riedel #joey kelly #rammstein #t.lindemann #t.lindemann 2021

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chidoroki · 3 years

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Isabella - 73584

I had a serious debate with myself over whether or not I wanted to sit down and spend my weekend writing another one of these praise posts. I was content with just doing one for each of the Fullscore Trio kids and ending it there.. but apparently I love this woman too much to just ignore her on her birthday. So here were are on September 9th with a list of all her best and my personal favorite moments as to why I believe she’s such a great character, antagonist and mother (yeah you heard me right). Considering she only shows up in the beginning and very end of the story, this post ended up longer than I originally anticipated, which just goes to show how many thoughts I really have about this woman. (for real, this rivals Ray’s post in terms of points but there’s far more words)

Since she also has some backstory and certain events differ between manga and anime (thanks to the second season), I’ll try to go in chronological order between both timelines instead of chapter by chapter, which might be a bit confusing as we’ll jump around the story a lot but just to bear with me as I try to makes sense of it all.

(spoilers for the entirety of The Promised Neverland & ch181.7, so if you haven’t read/completed the manga yet, consider this your first warning, because I’m literally going from start to finish with this one last time. I promise.)

- I’m not sure how well she compares to Emma when it comes to athleticism, but Isabella seemed to have no trouble climbing up and down trees when she was younger.

- Not only that, but she managed to scale the wall by herself using a method that requires a fairly impressive jump. It’s also implied that this is how she climbs the wall again so many years later when chasing the soon-to-be escapees, which helps prove that even at an older age, she hasn’t lost her touch.

- Was chosen to undergo training to become a Mom, which required high test scores and the current mother’s recommendation. She accepted the offer in order to keep living and survive as human the demons couldn’t eat.

- Based on Sienna’s comment, is it fair to say Isabella is on par with the full score trio? I mean, the woman is basically flawless.

- She was practically untouchable during her time at headquarters while training too apparently. Mom positions are scarce so the environment where these ladies fight (physically/mentally/emotionally) to even snag that job is highly competitive, and yet Isabella never let anyone deter her from her goal of becoming a Mom, which probably led to the “Iron Lady” nickname she received now that I think about it.

- She was the youngest ever to be granted the Mom position at..what, 19? 20? Somewhere around there, but impressive nonetheless considering they’re forced to have a child, build up a strong, emotionless exterior and endure so much fear. (but my goodness, the woman doesn’t age at all. she looks just as good when the story actually starts as she did her when she was a bit younger)

- It became common knowledge among the Sisters that she was also very successful in the way she raised her children.

- Her success greatly benefited the farm, as she offered up countless high quality goods, which sounds terrible, I know, but believe me when I say she gave her best effort for her children. Even though she held the Mom position, the amount of power she actually had in this system was pretty minimal, especially with how much she valued her own life. She couldn’t afford to make any mistakes or risky changes, so she settled with doing the most with what she was capable of. She provided her children with a normal lifestyle, not only to keep up the orphanage facade, but knowing that their lives would all be cut shorter than they anticipate. She gave them love in hopes that no one would ever have to feel the dread she felt after Leslie’s death and/or finding out the truth. She tried to delay that horrific fate by encouraging them to learn all they can (like teaching the trio about strategy and chess) so they could achieve higher tests scores and (unknowingly to them) add a couple more months or years onto their lives. Yes it was her job to raise these children to such high standards but she excelled at it for their sake too.

- And I know y’all will just throw Ray in my face like, “oh but he was her actual child and she treated him horribly/different.” Okay but deep down I don’t think she actually wanted to? When they both realized they were truly mother and son, Isabella couldn’t just dote on him and start treating him as such. I’m sure Ray wasn’t too fond of Isabella at this point in his life either, knowing that she sent several of his siblings away to get killed. They probably would’ve gotten along just fine in a perfect world, but since they were both aware of the hell they’re trapped living in, they emotionally distanced themselves and formed a business-like relationship as a result of Ray’s deal, which benefited them both in different ways. For Ray, it was more practical, with the obvious notion of living as long as possible along with obtaining various rewards and knowledge of the outside world. For Isabella, it helped emotionally by simply just ignoring their true relation. I believe if she clung to that realization, it would break the orphanage illusion and eventually wear down her “Iron Lady” exterior that she relies so heavily on.

- Like can you imagine how much you would have to harden your heart in order to quite literally walk children to their death every couple months for years on end and just move on like it’s completely normal? Now imagine how earth shattering it must be to think about doing the same to your actual child. All those years spent perfecting a fake smile and emotionless exterior like she was trained to have and her son shatters it in an instant. She becomes completely terrified about how he’s actually alive and in front of her right now and there’s nothing she can do to truly save him.. and yet she still recovers so damn quickly I can’t even comprehend it! But there’s still some sadness in those eyes. You can’t tell me otherwise. That one moment of weakness speaks volumes to me.

- So now with her general backstory FINALLY out of the way, we can finally start with ch01/ep01 and how her laugh is sweet and innocent. I say that because (all hidden emotions and motives aside) that’s exactly how she’s supposed to sound in this moment, not only to us but to the children as well.

- She of course checks Emma’s tracker a moment later but other than that I still think it’s a pretty genuine moment between the two.

- As previously stated, her ability to raise high quality children is unmatched, which is clear as day thanks to the fullscore trio.

- Despite their crazy level of intelligence, the trio has yet to win a simple game of chess against Isabella, even when teamed up.

- She treasures everything about the kids.

- She really cares about them, even when it’s time to send them off with a smile, which we know is thanks to her strong facade.

- But mother dearest isn’t really fine. She doesn’t like walking kids to their death, especially so young. But she can’t let them (or even herself) know that. She can’t show weakness, so she hums Leslie’s song, which is a tool she’s used for years in order to give herself strength.

- Don’t worry, I disliked her this moment happened too, just as the story intended. And here’s where her fantastic antagonist role begins for all the world to see.

- A true champ at jump scares.

- Acts completely calm the night after a couple of kids found out the secret of the farm.

- She uses the tracker in plain sight, sending whomever went to the gate last night a threatening but silent message.

- Correct Norman, that’s the “Iron Lady” for ya. Also the name of ch03 for us. Well, “The Iron Woman” but same difference.

- She switches from calculating and manipulative breeder to sweet and pleasant mother so quickly and effortlessly it’s incredible. Isabella even checked Emma’s pulse in this scene to see if she was acting normal.

- At this point she still had no idea who went to the gate (Ray didn’t tip her off yet, at least I don’t think so) but her guess couldn’t have been more precise. The level of fear she drives into both Emma and Norman was great too, but then again her presence is enough in any scene to give us chills.

- Notices her watchdog isn’t at his usual post and starts to get suspicious.

- Not only of him, Emma and Norman, but Don and Gilda as well, thus giving the five extra chores to finish in an attempt to slow down any escape planning, such as cleaning vacant rooms, organizing the pantry and inspecting spare linen.

- While the trio believes Isabella was being too soft and patient in finding her targets, she effectively catches them off guard by bringing in Krone for assistance. The trio soon realize they were actually preparing the sister’s new room and those mundane chores were just an excuse to buy time.

- Look at her, all smug. Checkmate indeed. (and totally not important, but her eyes are such pretty shades of purple)

- The sass and her no nonsense attitude.

- Immediately puts Krone in her place the moment she even thinks about shipping out the targets. Of course holding off on shipping the targets would benefit the farm, as it would produce higher quality merchandise as time passes, but plant 3 is run by Isabella and she’ll be damned if an assistant thinks they could waltz right in and decide her children’s fate.

- She check’s Emma tracker again despite her claim of knowing exactly who the targets might be. You can never be too careful.

- Her precious children managed to win a game of tag against Krone, which is still impressive considering the kind of training the sister has gone through, so kudos to her teachings.

- Knows right away that Krone was trying to take advantage, which allows Krone to realize that the opening she had to learn more about the children was all planned by Isabella herself. Her intimidating nature is enough to scare adults too.

- Reveals that Krone was mostly summoned in order to keep Ray in check after his failure.

- Despite the trust issue, Isabella still keeps up her end of the deal by requesting the items Ray asked for, thanks to the odd perks she had under Grandma Sarah which allowed her to order goods that weren’t on the supply list.

- This hug between her and Phil is just too cute not to mention.

- I imagine she makes this comment because she knows exactly how long a rope must be based off her own almost-escape.

- It’s just something about how this scene is framed alongside this dialogue that makes me think “oh, like mother, like son.”

- I blame her very thoughtful planning for my first big freak out when I watched season 1 blind, like ma’am that’s my favorite boy, please don’t.

- She conspires with Grandma Sarah in order to get rid of Krone for good, which renders the evidence sister just found out about the children’s escape completely useless. Sarah believes there might be some truth to it, but ultimately ignores it and puts her faith in Isabella’s ability of controlling the children & the situation.

- She then cuts Ray off and ends their six-year long deal, opting to control the situation herself from now on. Also, how she wanted to keep him around until the very end is kinda bittersweet. Does she mean as merchandise? Or because she wanted him to live as long as possible? Ah such a tricky little comment.

- She also tosses him across the room like a rag doll.

- Thank god for this panel existing and actually being adapted into the anime so I could hear it because I had absolutely no memory of her laughing in this moment.

- “She says it so nonchalantly,” Norman said once upon a time, and it’s still so frightening.

- As insane as her ideals seem given the circumstances, nothing she says here is really a lie.

- She has the strength to quite literally break a leg and that cracking noise still haunts me to this day.

- It wasn’t even a spur of the moment thing either. Isabella came fully prepared with bandages to fix up any injury she was willing to inflict and that thought alone is terrifying.

- Not only that, but she broke it so cleanly that Emma’s leg does indeed heal perfectly in the exact time frame she estimates. This entire moment is so unfairly impressive, like ma’am how dare you do this to Emma of all people.. like why couldn’t you at least use that kind of force to snap Peter’s neck instead or something?

- To make matters worse, she then reveals Norman’s shipment date. And it’s the following day, which sends the kids into a very understandable panic.

- Needless to say, November 2nd, 2045 was a very successful day in the life of Isabella. Woman was putting everyone in checkmate in ep08 and my anger on full blast.

- This sly smile she sends Ray’s way after announcing Norman’s shipment to the younger kids is so cruel.. it’s perfect.

- I can only imagine she asked about Ray’s whereabouts because she knew the boys were close friends and she hoped they would at least say goodbye to one another, but that’s just me.

- Puts an end to Norman’s parting words in such a simple and chilling matter.

- The way she just openly threatens Emma with others just out of earshot.

- Norman out here asking the real questions. If anything, I say she’s more “content” rather than happy. I don’t think she’s ever really thought about her own happiness, at least not often enough, hence the slight pause. This entire time she’s been focusing on how to make her children’s lives perfect, but for herself she just wants to survive in this hellish world they’re all living in.

- I’m honestly still not sure who’s final decision it is to send people to Lambda, either Isabella, Peter or someone else (honestly never bothered to check), but whether or not Isabella had any say in the matter, I’m sure she’s at least a little glad that Norman gets to live a bit longer? Perhaps that’s a stretch, but I’m putting the idea here anyway.

- I say this because I believe that’s part of the reason why she offered Emma a Mom recommendation, not only because our girl’s high test scores, but in hopes that she could live a longer life.

- Although she really stresses in an intimidation fashion how pointless Emma’s efforts are now that Norman’s “dead,” the cliff remains a major hazard and her leg is still bandaged up, Isabella still tries so hard to convince her to give up, like Ray has, in order for Emma to end her own suffering. It was the first instance during my blind watch-through were I started to get the hint that Isabella might actually care about her kids, and of course I know now it’s because she didn’t want Emma to experience the same pain she did after Leslie’s death.

- With Emma and Ray both broken, things went by rather smoothly for Isabella those last two months, though she continued to keep a close eye on them.

- Her humming is so soothing. And why it took me this long to bring up “Isabella’s Lullaby” is beyond me, but oh my god, that song and any other soundtrack that uses its melody is absolute perfection.

- Had enough sense to not let her guard down the final night, even though her efforts were ultimately unsuccessful, but the idea counts.

- Though her caretaker side is focused on more during the fire, some motherly instincts do kick in as she instructs Gilda to get the babies from her room and lead everyone outside to safety. She was also concerned for Emma’s well being, hoping all the smoke didn’t get to her when the girl vanished. (i know you can argue “she’s only worried because they’re merchandise” which is fair but c’mon, i swear she’s not completely heartless)

- Took a hot minute (ahha) but Isabella eventually realized that the kids were actually escaping solely based on what they were wearing on their feet. I’m sure Emma’s discarded left ear was a big tip off too but to come to that conclusion by noticing the shoes they had on during all that chaos is surprising.

- She looks completely insane here but I always thought this shot of her was nicely animated with all the fire (or embers? sparks? whatever they are) flying around. The laugh she does before this is also a nice bonus. Oh, and she somehow managed to secure a radio from the room Don had locked.

- Figured the fifteen kids would head towards the bridge and called in headquarters to block it off.

- But when the children didn’t appear at the bridge, she just happened to know exactly where else they might try to cross the cliff.

- In the anime’s case, Isabella climbed the wall and ran there quick enough to engage in a stare down with Emma before she finally slid down.

- The moment I knew I was doomed.

- After the 15 kids successfully escaped, Isabella admits defeat, for she couldn’t really see how much her children have grown to outsmart her.

- This iconic quote, which conveys so much truth and sincerity. There were multiple occasions where she had to distance and restrain herself due to the system that controlled her, but the love she was able to show the children was genuine. If she wasn’t held back by the strict rules enforced by Mom position, I don’t doubt she would’ve treated Ray better or became far more emotional whenever a child had to leave for good or seriously injured, instead of donning a fake smile and being closed off.

- She realizes with this unspeakable loss in merchandise, the reputation she worked so hard to build up is meaningless now and that the farm no longer has any use for such an incompetent caretaker. She figures she’s as good as dead anyway now, so she wastes no time in actually helping the escapees by reclaiming the ropes to hide their exact method and route of escape, if only to grant the kids some extra time before the pursuers really locate them.

- She doesn’t act bitter as a result of her loss, instead choosing to wish the escapees luck with the future they grasped for themselves and care for the children that were left behind.

- She’s just so pretty y’all. Thank you anime.

- She was named “Best Antagonist” (and rightfully so!) back during the 2020 Crunchyroll Anime Awards, winning over Askeladd (Vinland Saga), Overhaul, (My Hero Academia), Garoua (One Punch Man,) & others.

(Post-season 1 spoilers ahead, even though the anime is completely finished at this point, but will be touching upon her special chapter more as well.)

- Completely owns up to her mistakes that caused the farm a massive loss in profitable goods and is ready to received whatever punishment necessary, which she expects to be death.

- Only.. she’s not being killed, she’s actually being promoted to Grandma. Though Isabella was directly responsible for the children’s escape, the blame ultimately falls on Sarah who couldn’t correctly control Isabella, thus leading the old lady to be shipped out in place of the goods Isabella lost.

- Peter also notes that the farm found more worth in Isabella than Sarah, so her past merits also played a part in sparing her life, as having a woman like Isabella in charge would surely produce the level of quality the farm needs.

- Isabella eventually accepts the promotion, though she can’t help but feel hesitant and shocked about the whole deal. This woman was ready to embrace death and finally be free from this cruel world, but now she has to witness not only more kids being shipped off, but moms and sisters in training as well (yay old chapter reviews coming in clutch).

- She could have very well just refused Peter’s offer, but we all know how much Isabella originally wanted to survive, so she doesn’t just accept because this man dangled a sense of freedom in her face, she also agreed so she could have the opportunity to help her children in any way her newfound power would allow her.

- Of course, her transition to Grandma happens a bit differently in the second season, but I will give some bittersweet thanks to the anime once more for the obvious but curse them for also having this entire scene dark as hell. Let me see her beauty darn it! I can only fix the lighting so much until it looks overexposed and bad again.

Anyways, Sarah is still alive at this point and taunts Isabella with the escapee’s lives just to see how she would react, which gave her a small sense of hope. Then some demons pay a visit later on and also ask if she would want to see the children one last time, but Isabella tells them that not only would she be too ashamed to face them but that they would manage to survive Grandma’s capture plan, which involved several men blowing up their shelter. It’s now clear to the demons that these children are special, and while Isabella agrees, it’s not for the same reason the demons think so. The demons believe the kids are special because of how they were raised to such a high quality. Isabella calls them special simply because they’re her children, just as any mother would.

- In the anime, it’s the demons who offer Isabella the Grandma deal if Sarah’s current plan were to fail (which it does) and she takes it and the freedom from Grace Field House without question. Do I still believe she had similar intentions to help out the children like she did in manga at this point? Of course.

- Not even a full month into her new job did she start preparing to help Emma & the others by considering who from the current Sisters she wanted to recruit to personally assist her destroy the farm entirely.

- A month later and Isabella had already decreased the number of shipments that took place at Grace Field, which obviously helps raise the quality of the children by default, but it also means less death and gives those kids a chance to live longer.

- She completely anticipated that Matilda, Jessica, Sienna & Scarlet were conspiring against her and caught them quite easily, as they were among the top scorers.

- Each had a fair chance at becoming Moms but with those positions limited, it was obvious to figure out they were trying to force Isabella’s seat open by creating some suspicious activity to place on her almost perfect record. Unfortunately for the girls, our new Grandma is too smart for her own good and I love it.

- The four women are apprehensive to join her insane plan to go against the farm, but Isabella assures them there’s no freedom if they follow the system’s rules and betray her. The harsh reality they’re all living in will continue unless they stop competing with one another and combine forces to defeat the true enemy.

- To persuade them further, Isabella mentions the children they all gave birth to are still alive, bringing out an array of emotions from the women that they each thought they had buried deep down.

- THIS! Just all of this is wonderful and shows just how much Isabella learned from her children who once defeated her.

- To fully gain the women’s trust, she gives them Ray’s farewell note that he originally left in order to bait Krone, as proof she won’t double-cross them at any point.

- I love the fact that she kept the note close to her because it acts just like all the other various toys and items she saved in her secret room back at plant 3. The original owners were all precious to her so she kept a piece of them behind to remember them in a place only she knew about. As I said before when mentioning her “I wish I could have just loved them normally” quote, all the love she had for her children had to be suppressed when she was under the system’s control, but that doesn’t mean she never cared. Because she did, and if I haven’t made at least that clear by now then I’m failing.

- Can her intentions and love for her children be any more clear? (possibly, i’m not done with this darn post yet. how you guys holding up? i’m going a little insane at this point.)

- Anyways! Second season didn’t make the rest of the story easy so apologies for any timeline mishaps as I switch between both anime and manga events from here on out.. like how in manga Isabella is informed of the escapee’s return to Grace Field via Peter, while the in the anime it’s her who helps lures them back with a fake transmission via the radio they stole.

- Just before Emma & the others do return to Grace Field on November 13, Isabella finally reaches out to the farm’s many other Sisters to recruit them. She waited until the right moment to inform them of her crazy takeover plan so Peter wouldn’t become suspicious from all of headquarters acting/thinking differently (you know, like how Emma kept the jailbreak plan under wraps until the night of). These ladies also feel a bit wary and even think of Isabella’s offer as a joke, but with some real, heartfelt encouragement, she manages to win over every single woman to her side.

- The moment when it was first revealed to us that she was not only still alive but was also promoted to Grandma is still so powerful.

- She snaps Nat’s finger back into place after Peter broke it. (and considering emma’s group infiltrates the farm right after this, i’m pretty sure that ch170 with rallying the sisters took place before this..i think?)

- Gave me a minor heart attack.

- *CLAPS FRANTICALLY!!!* The moment she truly won me over. 

- While her betrayal against Peter in the manga is fantastic and quite possibly one of my favorite moments, the anime did give us a little something too. It shows Peter spewing utter nonsense to Emma about how she’s destined to fail, only for best girl to bite back with such a fantastic quote, and then Isabella drops the act and switches sides. While I agree Emma’s comeback is “wonderful,” it’s the English dub that completely wins me over in this scene by having Isabella comment “Now that’s my girl” instead, like bro.. hearing that makes me so happy.

- For real dude, you have several highly skilled women pointing guns at you, I think her betrayal is crystal clear.

- This is like the perfect example of how she had to conceal her feelings while bound by the system. She just misses these kids so much y’all but she can’t let her true emotions show yet.

- Having her call Peter a boy is beyond hilarious to me. Also, how she disagrees with him on so many levels is excellent, like how he believes in experimenting on kids and having the right to call yourself their parent just because you created them, while Isabella believes in raising and loving children normally and that you earn that parent title by actually being part of their lives. To be fair they both inflicted pain on kids (Nat’s finger/Emma’s leg) but Peter’s action was a mistake in itself. Isabella got frustrated back when Krone even threatened to ship out the kids who discovered the secret, so you can bet she’s probably pissed off at this boy for harming one of her kids on purpose.

- The best mother-daughter moment ever! It’s such a shame it never got truly animated since the second season decided not to give the children guns, but we get to see a small smile from Isabella after Emma decided to still call her “mom.”

- The anime never gave Peter the chance to run away, like he (somehow) managed to do in manga, so we had the chance to see someone actually shoot at him. Well, in his general direction at least. Isabella lands a perfect shot not even a full second after he pulls out that disc. Accuracy on point.

- Said this once or twice in the past in manga so I’m glad the anime brought it back.

- Remains cautious and keeps her gun raised at Peter when Emma approaches him and rightfully so considering he still had his knife hidden at this point.

- Refuses Emma’s offer to join the kids in the human world at first because she knows that her (& the sister’s) actions shouldn’t be forgiven so easily, but with some rather blunt sympathy from Ray and encouragement from her other children, she finally gives in.

- This entire post summed up in one image.

- She apologizes even though distancing herself from her kids and preparing them for death were just required of her role as a caretaker. She wouldn’t have done any of that in a normal world. (do i sound like a broken record yet? probably)

- The emotion you hear in her voice during this entire dub scene hits my heart in all the right places.

- She still thinks of Leslie after all this time and I think that’s real cute.

- Her protective nature is on full display when she protects Emma from this bastard of a demon. A truly surprising and heartbreaking moment, considering this is the woman who’s survival used to be her top and only priority in the past, but now doesn’t hesitate to give her life in order to save her kid (and by extension that small girl emma saved. also, major heart attack for me).

- Despite being critically injured, this woman still possess enough strength to hold back a demon twice her size. She doesn’t even pay any mind to its nonsense. Like the demon, people often think this is when redemption arc starts but I believe it started way back in ch37 when Isabella retrieved and hid the ropes the kids used to escape. Ever since she admitted defeat on the wall that night, she threw caution to the wind and began cheating the system in hopes to one day assist the kids achieve a brighter future. Despite all the work she’s done behind the scenes, Isabella believes there’s still so much more she can do to atone, so even though she’s already received the children’s forgiveness, she continues to assist them by jumping in and saving them directly from demons for once in her life.

- Ma’am it’s sweet you’re so concerned with their safety, but we should be asking you that question ya know? (but then again emma was the same way after she woke up from her coma).

- Knows that just apologizing and saving Emma isn’t enough to suddenly forgive all her actions and wants to do so much more for the children as a result. Even though I already acknowledged all her subtle and hidden moments, I wish we got to see her care for them more openly.

- I simply can not read through ch177 and not get emotional. No matter how hard I try, I always feel tears start to form in my eyes. Oh my god, how cruel that death can be this beautiful. It’s so unfair.

- *uses old chapter review because I’m too upset right now* “She apologizes for everything. For not treating him right and loving him as a mother normally would her own son. For making him despise his life so much and enduring so much pain that he thought the only escape was suicide.”

- “She leaves him with one last wish to protect everyone, and that completely breaks me because you know exactly how much they both care for their family. Not only would they literally die for their family, but they would live for them too if someone asked. Truly like mother, like son.” (aaaaaahhhhh)

- Her, umm.. ghost (along with Conny’s & Yuugo’s) help Ray reunite with Emma in 2049.

- All my tears aside, the anime did something right by actually keeping her ALIVE!

- Have you ever seen something so GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL in all your life?? This image is so powerful it literally tossed aside any salty feelings I had that night with how the second season ended. Seeing her like this grants me so much happiness y’all, it’s truly unbelievable. I still can’t get over it and hopefully I never will.

Okay, now I’m done, thank god. Sorry this is like ridiculously long, especially since she’s absent for sooo many chapters. Also find it so hilarious how drastic my opinion of her changed from the beginning to now, from “bitch” to “oh my god I love her so much.” I know people will always have opposing opinions whether she’s actually a good mother or not and that’s totally fine. Wasn’t trying to convince y’all of that either because yes, some of her actions are real unforgivable, but she was suffering under the farm system too and just followed through with what she was trained to do in order to survive, but while other Sisters fought to climb ranks and help themselves survive, Isabella ultimately wanted the best for her children. The more power she gained, the more risks she took and once the system crashed so did her facade.

An absolute queen.

#the promised neverland #mother isabella #tpn isabella #tpn manga #tpn anime #chidoroki used chatter

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

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Bad Batch x Jedi!Reader: Ghosts

(Author’s Note: I’m baaaacccck! I’ve had a rough few weeks and found almost no inspiration or motivation to write here, but I woke up this morning and felt like a new person. Thank you for waiting and for continuing to read, like, comment, and reblog!

Anyway, this was a request I received moons ago, and I just wanted to say to the Anon who requested that I did not forget about it and I’m so sorry for the wait. For real, thank you for the request, and I hope you like it.

OG Request: Can I request a bad batch and reader who was their sister, they were also a Jedi. But then order 66 happens and the bad batch tries to kill her but she escaped after being shot by crosshair. She ends up working with the ghost crew and meets up with them during rebels, she's almost scared of them. She also tears up seeing how much older the are

Warnings: blaster wound, some angst, fluff ending)

Got your back,” you growled, using your lightsaber to block some incoming shots. Hunter fired his blasters at the group of oncoming droids that headed toward you.

Wrecker was plowing through the enemy squads like it was nothing, giving an enthusiastic yell here and there. He paused to give you a thumbs-up with a gloved hand, and you grinned back. Crosshair was picking them off from his position off the immediate battlefield. He blasted one right in front of you.

“Nice shot!”

Tech was handling things just fine on his side. You moved past him to cut through a few droids nonetheless and exchanged nods of appreciation.

Just another day with the Bad Batch, the rogue squad that had come to be your family over the course of the war. You had adjusted to living life on the wild side- dangerous missions and poor odds. The group managed to get through each one, and you grew stronger.

This mission, to invade and destroy the Separatist base from the inside out, was a particularly risky one. But like the others, this one was going rather well.

Or it had been. Until Tech alerted Hunter of an incoming comm that was rather urgent.

You didn’t see who the transmission was from. You caught a glimpse of the blue form displaying on Tech’s comm before having to deal with an oncoming droid. You planted a thermal detonator and somersaulted away so it could blast the last of the droids, and you’d be ready to check in with your squad about the comm.

As the battlefield went dead silent after the fall of the final droid, there was a shift. That was the best way to describe the feeling. Something just wasn’t right. You glanced over to see Hunter and Tech standing perfectly still as they received the message. That’s when it hit you. Whatever it was, it was deadly, and you knew you needed to get your squad out of there.

You turned fully toward them, lips parting in the beginnings of a warning about the shift in your feelings. You could only hope they’d listen to you and get out in time without an argument. Your voice was cut off at the sight of three visors facing you with blasters aimed your way.

“Guys?” you called, eyes flickering to each of them. “Hunter? What’s going on?”

Two more visors, Crosshair’s and Echo’s, joined them. Cross kept his rifle ready at his shoulder, aimed at you as well. That’s when you realized they weren’t in danger. They were the danger.

“The jedi are traitors to the Republic,” Hunter’s voice echoed in the space between you. “By order of Sidious, they are to be executed for their crimes, and that includes you.”

“W-what?” You grasped your lightsaber tightly, not wanting to raise it and alarm them further. “I haven’t done anything. We’ve been fighting for the Republic. See those droids?” You nodded in that direction. “I cut them up myself with my lightsaber to protect the galaxy. We did it together.”

“Stop trying to reason with us,” Crosshair hissed. “You’re...a...traitor.” He hesitated, body quivering for a moment as his visor looked to the ground. Whatever cloud of confusion had settled on him, it was like he tried to fight it.

“It’s me,” you said. “It’s __________.”

Hunter’s body shook again before he aimed the blaster at you with resolve. “You heard Sidious, boys. Order 66 must be carried out.”

Searing pain traveled through your shoulder as you made a run for it, causing you to stumble. You spared a glance behind you to see the Bad Batch giving chase. Crosshair had actually shot you. A different kind of pain exploded in your chest at the betrayal. Even though you knew this Sidious was behind it all. Even though you knew it wasn’t the real Crosshair. It still hurt.

Despite the physical and emotional agony, you kept running. You deflected more blaster shots with your lightsaber, using your abilities to leap into the nearest ship. The presence of your closest allies began to fade as you took off, leaving to shoot at the vehicle to no avail.

Fortunately, you and the squad handled dangerous missions on your own without too much Republic assistance, so you were able to get into space without encountering any other soldiers. When things quieted down and you were faced with the blur of stars and planets outside the viewport, you shrank back in your seat from the weight of grief. For the first time, you allowed yourself to grieve. The life of a jedi was by no means easy, but you were trained for years to not give into such strong attachments to avoid the dark side’s pull.

This time, you let the tears fall for your squad. You let the sob rip through the lonely ship. It was a relief to cry, but not enough to dull the pain. It was like a fresh wound, raw and stinging.

“Crosshair, Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, Tech…” you cried their names, demanding an answer from no one in particular. Just then, a beep sounded amongst the ship controls that alerted you of an incoming message. You sniffled and answered, eyes widening at the sight of Jedi Obi Wan Kenobi.

“...I regret to inform you…”

- - - - - - - - -

“__________? What are you doing?” Ezra called. “We’ve got to go!”

You glanced his way from several feet away, holding up a hand as a signal for him to wait. Something felt off about this place. It was a feeling you hadn’t felt in a long time. A long time.

“Is this a jedi thing?” he asked, walking over. Despite being quite skilled and talented for one so young, he was still very early in his training with Kanan. Nothing could quell his curiosity, though.

You nodded. “There’s something...someone...here. I think I know them.”

“It’s just an old ship,” he shrugged. “It is a scrapyard, after all.”

It was a good point. The place looked rather abandoned to the naked eye, but you could see beyond appearances. There was more to this ship than just a heap of metal. Something felt oddly alive about it.

“I’m going to check it out,” you said.

“But Hera said-”

“Ezra,” you interrupted with as patient of a tone as you could muster. “I need to do this. I’ll be right back.” You took a few cautious steps forward only to hear him walking behind you. You peeked at him over your shoulder to see a determined expression on his face.

“If something really is going on, I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

“Ugh, fine,” You pretended to be annoyed, though deep down you were glad he was coming along. Something stirred inside you. You sensed a presence that you hadn’t in years. Could it be…? No, it couldn’t.

“__________?” The all-too-familiar voice called. A face popped out from the old ship. Even among the wrinkles and white hair, you recognized a piercing set of brown eyes. Your own eyes widened as your instincts took over, and you turned to bolt. “No, wait!”

“Stay back!” Ezra warned, hands raised to the figure that emerged from the ship quickly. A much taller figure stepped out, and this fellow threw his head back and laughed.

You froze in place, taking in the aged faces before you. None of them held the same conflict in their gaze as they had the last time you were with them. They held their hands up as a gesture that they carried no weapons.

“_________, it’s alright,” Echo called. “We mean you no harm.”

“Please, don’t go.” Hunter’s tone sounded so pleading; it made you want to cry. You did not sense any evil intent on their part. It was a good sign that they were no longer under Emperor Palpatine’s control. Over the years, you discovered what exactly had happened to your squad. Old Republic files you’d hacked revealed that something known as Order 66 had occurred, and you had pieced together the horrible plot to overthrow the jedi. Like the others, you had to stay hidden- even from the Bad Batch.

“How do I know this isn’t a trick?” you asked hesitantly.

Tech took a step forward, and you gripped the handle of your lightsaber as a warning not to approach. His eyes flickered to the weapon before he took a step back. “After Order 66, the new Empire retired us. I had quite a bit of free time, and while doing some research, I stumbled upon a report: it told me all about these biological chips.”

“And we removed them!” Wrecker said. He turned his head to the side, his pointer finger tapping on a scar on the bald skin. By then, you started walking towards them. You couldn’t believe how they had aged so much. You were in front of Crosshair first, reaching a hand up to touch his weathered face. He didn’t tense like he used to every time you accidentally brushed against him. As a matter of fact, he even smiled a little. Age had worn down his tough-guy act.

“It’s...good to see you,” he said.

Then, all at once, the tears started flowing. It was like you picked up right where you left off all those years ago. You threw your arms around him, and after a few moments of crying into his shoulder, you felt his arms come up to hold you comfortingly. “Cross...I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too.”

“Hey,” Wrecker grunted. “I missed you! Don’t I get a hug?”

You laughed through the tears and turned to give him a hug only to be lifted off the ground in a familiar, enveloping embrace- the kind only Wrecker could give. He set you down laughing with you, and you pulled Echo and Tech into a little group hug. They both smiled widely, Echo chuckling, as you pulled them tighter. Then, you were faced with an aged Hunter who looked conflicted. You could feel his warmth and happiness to see you, but he also carried guilt. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, and he hugged back.

“__________,” he murmured. “I’m...sorry-”

“Not another word,” you interrupted. “It wasn’t your fault. None of you are to blame.”

“But-”

“Not another word,” you insisted, flashing him a smile. He returned with a handsome grin that showed the old Hunter even through his aged appearance. It brought more tears to your eyes. “I’m so glad we all found our way back together.”

“Um, __________?” Ezra spoke up. He gave a shrug, confused about the interaction.

“I’ll explain,” you told him. “Bad Batch, this is my friend, Ezra. Him and I are members of a crew that does what it can to mess with the Empire.”

“Oh yeah?” Wrecker asked. “As soon as our chips were removed, that’s what we started doing.”

“Really?”

“Indeed, we’ve made significant progress,” Tech said.

“Well,” you sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder plate. “What do you say we regroup and mess with the Empire together?”

“I think…” Hunter stroked his chin in thought. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

#clone wars #star wars: the clone wars #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #clone wars the bad batch #bad batch x reader #bad batch reader insert #star wars rebels #star wars reader insert #star wars #the clone wars reader insert #clone wars x reader #jedi!reader #bad batch x jedi!reader #tech #crosshair #hunter #echo #wrecker

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edwardelricsrightarm · 3 years

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"A lesson without pain is meaningless. For you cannot gain anything without sacrificing something else in return, but once you have overcome it and made it your own...you will gain an irreplaceable fullmetal heart." - Edward Elric

In honor of disability month and the FMA 20 year anniversary I wanted to address some Thoughts™️ about the series.

It's not often you see a disabled protagonist in media where their disability is integral to the story without taking up their entire character, even more so with anime. Yet, Fullmetal Alchemist has not just one disabled Protagonist, but two. The Elric Brothers are an exemplary representation of disability in media that I find myself reflecting on often as a disabled person myself. If you haven't completed the manga or Brotherhood, skip this as it will be brimming with spoilers.

(Mangahood will be my point of reference because while 03 is good on its own merits it's not as fresh within my immediate memory, and I am far less familiar with it. Keep this in mind, I've watched FMAB 10 and a half times whereas I've finished 03 only once years ago.)

The story highlights their disabilities immediately, Edward being a double amputee and Alphonse being without his ENTIRE body, only having the senses of proprioception, sight, and hearing left. Yet, despite this being key to the story and an integral part of their characterization, it is only one facet of their motivations and doesn't take center in the narrative, which is refreshing. It's not inherently negative to make a narrative centered on the characters' disabilities, but often this model of a story goes very wrong very fast and starts to feel hollow (no pun intended). FMA avoids this by making their disabilities a clear part of the plot and their motivations without allowing it to consume the entire story, so the Elric Brothers don't suffer the "my disability is all of my character" problem that many disabled characters are relegated to in a vast portion of media, all while being strong and competent.

Recap:

The brothers wished to revive their mother, but their good intentions cannot change the atrocity of their mistake, Truth makes this abundantly clear from the start. Edward loses his leg first, a punishment for "stepping" into God's shoes and transgressing the place of humans in their world. Alphonse loses his entire body, unable to feel any warmth or simple comforts like food and rest, when all he wanted was to feel the warmth and comfort of his mother's embrace again. At first, Alphonse's entire being is consumed by the gate, but Edward acts immediately, refusing to lose his little brother and refusing to allow his arrogance in this plan to cause his brother's death for only following his lead. Edward gives his right arm to have the gate give back Alphonse's soul, and stated clearly in his panic that he'd give his entire self to save Alphonse if that's what it would take, but Truth took his dominant arm only, showing something akin to mercy, although the character of Truth is capriciously strict and hard to describe as "merciful".

Through giving up his right arm, Edward regains his Right Hand Man, his little brother and best friend. His only remaining family, who he feels responsible for protecting in the absence of their parents. He felt immediately that he'd made a grave mistake, instantly full of regret as he realized the gate had taken his brother. In that moment he was willing to give anything to take it back and undo the suffering his arrogance caused his brother, yet Alphonse was still to suffer more to come. Ed tied Alphonse's disembodied soul to one of Hohenheim's collected suits of armor, managing to at least keep his brother alive in some way. One could say that Alphonse's punishment functioned as a secondary punishment for Edward, showing him how easily his hubris could have cost him what he has left in his obsession with regaining what they'd lost, their mother. A very clear symbolic reminder of the weight of his actions and how he'd misled his brother in his own naive ignorance. Even in giving another limb away to drag his brother's soul back out of the gate, he couldn't offer enough to bring him back intact. Thus is the law of equivalent exchange.

Now that we've reviewed some of that basic symbolism and the motifs the story draws upon with limbs and body parts in relation to characters, let's move on to each individual brother and break it down, shall we?

Edward Elric is a very realistic protagonist, this is one thing a majority of us familiar with this series can agree upon. He feels like a believable teen boy, with layers of complexity to his character while also showing arrogance and immaturity that is unsurprising at his age. He expresses unwillingness to kill and avoidance of unjust violence from the beginning, and has a strong moral code after the ordeal of committing the taboo.

In some characters his cocky personality would typically become grating, yet the story explains in itself why he is this way, then builds upon this to develop him into an incredibly mature character who is willing to admit when he's absolutely wrong and adapts to new information and context for the crisis unfolding around him as it comes, even if he remains crass. This arrogance is shown from the start to be a manifestation of insecurity, self loathing, and repressed guilt. Edward is a logic driven person, he has a very unique thought process, which is where my interpretation of him as autistic comes in. Edward's awkward social demeanor, somewhat abrasive and cold approach to some, and his trouble coping with nonsensical societal structures all stand out in this way. Furthermore he clearly shows hyperfixation, hyperactivity, special interest, and infodumping behaviors that are all too familiar. He's picky with food (*cough* the milk thing), has very little filter and speaks his mind bluntly even if this can warrant conflicting responses, yet at the same time struggles with vulnerable emotions, and he is frustrated when his own routine or itinerary are interrupted by forces beyond his control. All of these things Scream autism with comorbid ADHD. Many traits are shared between the brothers, and I'm quite certain they're both on the autism spectrum based on behavioral patterns. Neurodivergence aside, Edward's physical disabilities are undeniable.

Despite his bratty persona, Edward is fundamentally kind and uncharacteristically gentle and soft around the edges for a shonen protagonist in many ways. He cries openly on many occasions even if he struggles talking about his trauma and burdens in words at times, he feels pain, grief, and compassion so intensely it throws him into action on a regular basis in the narrative. In this way he's also a fantastic example of non-toxic masculinity (though in other ways he has displayed more toxic traits, he's just a kid). He acts on his heart, even if he's led by his mind and logic in most things. His humanity, value for life, and care for others will always win over his logic, and he shows a sense of personal responsibility for doing the right thing even if it harms him in the process. Ed is clearly shown having ghost pains in his lost limbs which is honestly an interesting detail to include, I don't think I've ever seen that aspect of amputation shown in media aside from FMA. It's also shown that when Ed's automail arm breaks this is a HUGE problem for him, but he's also shown to be very good at working around this in difficult circumstances. He doesn't become completely helpless, even if majorly weakened.

Alphonse is an extremely lovable and compassionate boy, brimming with altruism and care for others. Even in his noncorporeal state he pursues a better future and he's not helpless by any stretch. Edward clearly states Alphonse is the superior fighter for example, and it's not just because of his armor body being so large. He's *talented*, that's a fact. Al is every bit as clever and capable as Ed, moreso in some ways, and I love that about his character *because* he's so clearly disabled. He has no sense of pain, he is completely incapable of sleeping, he can't eat, can't relax or find comfort, he can only exist and think. This causes him to overthink in all his time alone, this is debilitating. He clearly is absolutely sick of the loneliness this causes, and he often feels helpless though he's not. He has doubts and fears that consume him in relation to his armor body, he questions his own personhood, even. Yet, Edward is stubborn and staunch in affirming that no matter what he's dealing with, he is fundamentally still a human being that is loved and irreplaceable. Alphonse is powerful and his body gives him some advantages, but it also sets him back, and the brothers know this even when others claim Alphonse's state is somehow a good thing. I have hEDS, a disability that comes with advantages as well as the major downsides, so I can understand and relate to Alphonse here. I too am told my disability is a boon because of flexibility and because I'm less likely to fracture bones, but I'm twice as likely to injure my ligaments and joints, which people ignore.

The brothers are both disabled, both flawed, both show weaknesses, but they are competent, determined, and strong in their own right. They are rounded characters that exist for more than to be pitied or condescended to by able bodied characters around them. They put their entire being in everything that they do no matter what that is, and they don't know the meaning of giving up. These traits that they're made of truly make them a shining example of disability in protagonists for others to look to for reference when writing their own disabled characters.

Even though by the end Edward has regained one limb and Al has regained his body, this also doesn't just deus ex machina reverse their disability or make it go away. It's clear that Alphonse's body is weak and has to be rehabilitated upon recovery, and Edward is still missing his leg and bears the scars and pieces of the port from his automail arm. They weren't suddenly made able bodied upon recovering these things, they reclaimed what was lost through struggle and grit, but the narrative didn't give the impression that their disability in itself was something to be fixed, which is important. They wanted to recover their bodies, but this doesn't erase the effects of their disability.

It was about Edward atoning for leading Alphonse into their mistake and saving his brother from suffering further, it was about them proving they can keep moving forward no matter what, not about getting rid of their disability in itself or putting themselves down because of the disabilities. This, to me, as a mentally and physically disabled viewer, is so important. They achieve their goal, but this doesn't in any way erase or undo the effects of their initial losses, they find ways to adapt and move on but they're still affected and still disabled. They always will be. That can be so important to see in comfort characters, and as a disabled individual who's had both brothers as comfort characters since I was a child, their impact on my own journey is surprisingly tangible for fiction.

#fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma #edward elric #alphonse elric #elric brothers #character analysis #disability month #disability positivity #disabled #fma 20th anniversary

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divine-bangtan · 3 years

Text

- mirror, mirror on the wall | ksj (m)

⤏ vampire!seokjin, pwp, medieval!au

⤏ word count: 6.5k

⤏ Being a vampire prince, Seokjin is used to feeling everyone’s eyes on him. In fact, he’s come to expect it from his subjects. So when you won’t look at him of course he’s not happy. After all, didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude not to stare at him?

a/n: listen,,,this is unedited and overdue bc I am trash. Also for someone who doesn’t like humiliation and degrading sex I sure had way too much fun writing this I have nothing 2 say for myself okay enjoy. Happy birthday Seokjin!

⤏ vampire prince!seokjin, human servant!reader, exhibitionism, degration, nipple play, fingering, slight anal play, squirting, biting, blood drinking, orgasm denial, spanking, candlewax play, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, seokjin is fucking hung and his precome is an aphrodisiac, bath sex, mirror sex, cockwarming, creampie, what even is aftercare lol.

One minute had already passed, your trembling hand still hovering in front of the door while you worked up the courage to knock. A single bead of sweat which had gathered at the nape of your neck dripped down your skin, and you swallowed hard in an attempt to quell your nerves. Your attempt at delaying this was inevitable, he was expecting you, had summoned you personally and he could likely tell how long you’d been standing there as well.

With that driving thought in mind, you chewed on your lower lip for another second and moved your hand to finally knock.

“You may enter,” came from within the room before your knuckles had even made contact with the wood. The deep voice was slightly muffled through the walls, but nonetheless it still made you shudder with its authority. Swallowing again, you leaned most of your weight on the solid wood to open the door. Something sinister hung in the air, and you stood rooted in the entrance of the prince’s private chambers, entire body thrumming with trepidation.

Glints of gold caught your gaze, coming from every corner of the space as the candles flickered and shadows seemed to grow and lurk where your stare didn’t quite reach. Everywhere your eyes landed screamed lavish riches. If it was not pure gold, the furniture was dripping in rich, red velvet. Curtains so thick they were easily able to block out the brightest sunlight cascaded down the walls, half concealing the intricate tapestries that adorned them. The entire space had a mysterious feel to it, with an underlying sense of danger that made your heart skip a beat.

The entrance room alone made your head spin, and an unknown force pulled you further into the labyrinth, your feet moved as if possessed, deeper and deeper into the lion’s den. A gust of wind made the curtains rustle, carrying whispers you couldn’t quite understand. You moved to look closer at the paintings on the wall on the other side of the hallway, to inspect the scenes of battle they seemed to depict. However, something stopped you dead in your tracks, a powerful presence behind you. It had you whirling around, staring through a lavish open doorway.

You gasped softly when you turned and your eyes landed on the bathtub in the centre of the room, so large it was almost taking up half the space. Wisps of steam floated from the surface of the water which gleamed iridescent in the candlelight, no doubt filled with expensive lotions and perfumes. What was more impressive, however, was the many flower petals which adorned the water.

Your eyes lifted to finally meet the eyes of your prince, Seokjin, who reclined against the edge of the tub with an air of relaxed ease. His arms stretched out either side of him, the slight bulge of muscle beneath his honeyed skin causing you to swallow extra hard. The position made his already broad shoulders look even larger, like they could block out the whole sky as he looked down at you. It suited him well. Regality, beauty, immortality. When he raised his dark eyes to pierce yours you felt as though you’d been lured right into the lion’s den, and he was about to devour you alive. A smirk tugged at his plush lips and his gaze burned a hole right through you, the carpet quickly became your solace.

“How may I serve you, your excellency?” You murmured, trying to keep your tone steady, yet you knew his supernatural senses would pick up the slightest tremble. There truly wasn’t anything you could hide from him.

A long silence came from his direction, filled only by the pounding of your heart. Warmth crept up your neck, heating up your cheeks under his intense scrutiny and you squirmed slightly, feeling the tops of your thighs already growing damp.

“Wet…” he softly noted with humour, your human ears barely picking up on it. Embarrassment caused your heart to practically halt in your chest, could he really tell so easily? “My drink.” He spoke again, much louder this time and you jumped as you snapped out of your stupor. That was until his words registered. Drink? He wanted to drink? From you?

“My wine, over there. Bring it to me,” he pointed lazily toward a table across the room before sinking into the water until he was completely submerged.

Oh. You couldn’t help the slight pang of disappointment that you felt at the fact that you weren’t going to experience a vampire bite. From what you’ve heard they were incredibly pleasurable, some even achieving climax untouched. But to be fed from by the prince himself, of course it was foolish of you to think something like that would ever happen to you. Blinking back frustrated tears you trudged over to the table, picking up the golden tray with the pitcher and goblets already placed on it.

Complete silence filled the room after you set everything down next to the tub, warily eyeing the dark surface of the water. However, you were unable to catch a sign of the prince and took it as your queue to leave, defeated at having gotten your hopes up. He likely knew what he was doing, bringing you here to torment you. It was obvious how painfully attracted you were to the prince, how much everyone was. Others were definitely not shy in their affection yet you were unable to even look at him for longer than a few moments.

A loud splash was all the warning you got before suddenly Seokjin broke from the surface of the water, standing to his full height in all his naked glory. Droplets of water clung to his golden skin, adorned by the occasional flower petal and it took every ounce of your restraint to not look down. One of his hands lifted up to sweep his wet hair back, exposing his forehead to your eyes and even that part of him was exquisite. The other reached to pick up his golden goblet, and he smirked in your direction before taking a sip of his wine. God, you truly did not know where to look, eyes raking over the expanse of his naked chest.

He smirked as you finally kept your eyes glued to his face, refusing to look even past his chest. Instead you paid particular attention to the rose petals which adorned his skin.

The two of you remained locked in a silent standoff, one that you knew you could not win. As if sensing your admittance to defeat, he sipped his wine, savouring the taste and you swallowed hard watching his thick, vascular neck move with each swallow. As if hypnotised by the depths of his rich pupils, you couldn’t seem to look away as he gazed so intently at you.

Leisurely he licked his lips, seemingly had enough wine, and the action caused your eyes to drop and watch his tongue swipe over the pillows of flesh, and for a microsecond his incisor could be seen. Hook. The leer returned when he knew he had you, and his grip on his goblet accidently slipped, causing the liquid to run in rivets down his chest. But you knew vampires did not do anything by accident. Line. No, there was always an ulterior motive with vampires, an intention. He tossed his golden goblet aside, a dull thud coming from across the room where it landed on the carpet. Sinker.

“Oh dear, I seem to have spilled my wine. Clean that up for me, won’t you? The flowers too, they do wonders for my complexion but getting them off me is so bothersome.”

You nodded silently, quickly glancing around the room to find a washcloth. Where, where did his other servants keep them? You’d never been in here before, being a lowly servant yourself you’d never even been to this part of the castle before.

“Here.” He quipped, breaking your panic, and cocking an eyebrow when you gaped at the cloth that seemed to have materialised in his hand. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“N-no! Of course your grace,” you spluttered, almost tripping in your haste.

“Good.”

Now closer than ever, were able to get a much better look at your prince. But in consequence, he was also able to get a much closer look at you. At this proximity, his aura was intense, the width of his shoulders blocking the rest of the room from your view. He had no shame in his nudity, as if it were a gift to your eyes.

Frankly, it was.

Palpitations fluttered in your chest as your eyes took in the chiselled planes of muscle across his chest and abdomen, stained slightly pink from the spilled red wine. As you moved the fabric down his chest you swallowed hard, realising how far down the spill actually travelled.

Part of you ached to even lick his skin clean, secretly wishing he would ask you to. Your own cheeks pinked at the thought, at how you’d get on your knees for him in an instant. It was well known that it was even an honour to merely be degraded by him, let alone other things.

When most of the spill on his upper half was cleaned, you began plucking away at the flowers that stuck to his skin. You reached for a rose petal on his pec when Seokjin grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Leave it. I’m cold now, and bored. It will wash off rather easily in the water I think,” he mused, quickly turning to step back into the tub.

“I can fetch your grace something that might entertain you?”

Perhaps that was all, he had merely brought you here to remind you of your place. A simple human, an ant under his foot. The thought of getting to leave the embarrassing situation had you feeling as though you could breathe easily again, until his next words came. “You will be my entertainment. Join me.”

“Your grace! I-I,” you spluttered, cheeks warming at his brash words.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure you wanted this. But I can hear the way your little heartbeat quickens when I look at you, such a desperate little slut. How in that millisecond when I hold your gaze how excited you become, how much you squirm and look away. You know, it’s rude not to stare at me.” He growled. “Now strip, or I’ll come get you myself.”

With haste, you began to unbutton your dress as to not keep him waiting, although each felt like an eternity to unfasten with him watching your fingers slip several times. Your hands shook as you peeled your clothes from your warm skin, but it was only partly out of nervousness.

The cold air of the room immediately caused your nipples to harden as your undergarments dropped to the floor and you were left bare in front of him. Seokjin’s eyes were trained intensely on the swell of your breasts, and you could have sworn you saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips for a moment.

You lowered yourself into the warm water slowly, yet you shivered at his eyes on you. Only able to stand his ogling for a few seconds you sank the rest of the way into the warm water, feeling your bare skin engulfed in the opaque water. Once again Seokjin stretched out against the side of the tub, looking like a lion sunbathing, but even at ease they were ready to attack at a moment’s notice.

“Come here.”

The water swirled around you as you inched toward him, heart palpitating at the uncertainty of it all. The temptation of teasing him crossed your mind, a hesitation, keeping you just out of his reach. Clearly this did not please him, as he tutted and lurched forward to grab you by your elbow.

“Uh uh uh, I don’t think so. Here,” he suddenly growled as you were pulled toward him, and you felt his bare chest suddenly pressed against your back. “I want to watch you, watching me. Look,”

One of the largest mirrors you’d ever seen sat opposite the tub, trimmed with gold and illuminated by at least a hundred candles. The splendour of itself was enough to leave one breathless, but the vampire whose fingertips were creeping up your side was making it much more difficult.

You arched your back, thrusting forward your decolletage as an open invitation. Surprisingly, his touch was warm, and an involuntary gasp slipped from your lips as you finally felt him cup your breasts in his hands. You watched him knead the soft mounds of flesh, the water level stopped just below your chest. Seokjin’s dark eyes drank in the sight of you, and the feather light brush of his thumbs over your nipples had you squirming all the more.

Like pleasant torture he continued to torment you with the barest of touches, not quite exerting the pressure you wanted, the brute strength you knew he possessed. It would have to be tempted from him.

“You’re like the evil queen from that fairy tale,” you taunted as he continued to stare at your reflection in the mirror. Exactly as you had predicted, Seokjin was quick to chastise you with a harsh pinch to your sensitive nipples.

“I’d watch that pretty little tongue of yours, if you want to keep it.” What you hadn’t expected, however, was the way he was able to growl.

“Are you going to ask if you’re the fairest of them all?” Came your jaunt, rising to the challenge.

Quick as a flash his hand was closing around your throat, fingers pressing into the sides cutting off any blood flow and the room around you began to spin.

“Eyes on me, keep them open.” He rumbled, his breath warm at the shell of your ear. “I’m tired of you looking away, such disrespect to your royalty.” When you pried your eyes open again you saw something glinted in his eyes, and his fingers pressed a little tighter against your throat and you whined breathlessly. “Listen to your little pulse quicken, even when I hold your fleeting life in the palm of my hand you moan like a whore. I could kill you right now and you’d probably come.”

Right as you felt blackness creeping into the edges of your vision he let go and air rushed back into your lungs. The dizziness made you slump back against him, your eyes slipping shut as your surroundings were blurred. With a disappointed tut he pinched your breasts once more, drawing a whimper from you.

“Not so tough now, are we?”

Instead of answering him, you squirmed away from his ministrations, your behind effectively grinding against the length of him, hot and heavy under the water. Every second he went unanswered his displeasure grew, the fire in his eyes only burning hotter.

“Since you can’t seem to be an obedient little slut, I suppose some discipline is in order.” Swiftly you were reminded of his vampiric strength as he stood from the water, pulling you up into his arms as he sauntered over to a chair. He took his time, dropping you before he slumped into what looked like a velvet throne. Right in front of it sat another enormous mirror – how many could one person own?

Seokjin pulled you out of your thoughts and down onto his lap, manhandling you until you lay face down, ass up. You shivered at the ticklish feeling of his fingers running up the backs of your thighs, which had broken out in goosebumps from the cold air of the room. His fingernails brushed over your rump before he grabbed each of your cheeks in his hands, kneading them before spreading them.

The feeling of your glistening folds being exposed to the cold air had you gasping, involuntarily clenching and you knew he was watching intently. Seemingly pleased by what he saw, Seokjin blew on your pussy which had you squirming harder from the strange sensation. That, however, did not please him. Your hands which had been resting in front of you were twisted behind you, one of his hands circling your wrists like iron.

“Still.” He pressed his thumb against your clenched rim, and you paused at the unfamiliar feeling. “It’s tempting, to fuck your tight little asshole. Hmm, maybe I should.” The tip of his thumb ever so slightly dipped in, but then he withdrew it to land a hard slap on your rump. He gripped the flesh in his palm, massaging it to soothe the sting and parted your thighs more. “Tempting, but no. Your pussy looks far too appetising tonight, especially with how wet you're getting. Do you like being over my knee? So eager to become my little human fucktoy.”

Three more slaps landed on your ass, each one leaving a delicious sting in its wake and your breathing grew more jagged after you finished yelping. He continued to grip the globes of flesh as your aching cunt clenched, and he paused as you shivered.

“A little cold, hm?” Seokjin teased, knowing full well what it was that caused you to shudder. “Let’s warm you up then.”

Bracing yourself for another slap, a gasp of surprise left your lips when you felt little droplets of hot wax instead. Each one had you jolting, not able to move much due to him holding you down. But you were enjoying it, he knew you were enjoying it. Your back arched off his lap, the contrast of your cold skin mixed with the warm wax had you moaning louder with each droplet. The wax was almost too hot. Almost. But it cooled quickly, and if you were going to fuck with vampires you need to be able to enjoy pain with pleasure.

“Look at how nice and warmed up you are now, and how wet. You’re such a little slut for punishment. Is that why you purposefully provoked me into doing this? So I would have to punish this desperate little cunt of yours? Look at it,” he smirked, suddenly pulling you up and turning you so you sat with your back to his chest once more. He reached forward and yanked your thighs apart, so your soaked folds were on display in the candlelight.

You just love being handled like this, like a whore. Consider yourself lucky, for I could have anyone that I please on their knees for me. So, show me how grateful you are, on your knees.”

Not wanting to displease him you quickly obliged, grateful for the soft cushioning carpet. However, it only drew more attention to the aching throb between your thighs, and the faint warmth of your sore asscheeks. Looking up from admiring the thickness of his thighs, you gasped.

In front of your face was the largest cock you had ever seen, his size was truly inhuman. He was larger than any lover you’d ever had before, his length alone put every man in the kingdom to shame. You licked your lips in a rather unsubtle manner to which he tutted.

“If you’re so desperate for it, do something,” he practically purred, one hand twisting in your hair to drag you forward. He was in no way gentle you thought as your scalp ached, but the way it had your pussy clenching - the way he knew it turned you on - certainly didn’t have you complaining.

The tip of his cock brushed your cheek, smearing a few beads of sticky precome with it and you were quick to turn your head to the side and run the length of your tongue along the throbbing vein. You chased the little drops of precome that ran down the underside of the length, lapping all the way up to the mushroom head of his cock. You moaned at the taste of him as you gave little kitten licks to his slit. His grip in your hair only tightened and you looked up at him with hooded eyes, your sopping core clenching when you saw how dark his gaze had gotten.

It was unlikely you would be able to wrap your hand around his girth, and even less likely you would be able to fit him in your mouth. But still, you were eager to at least try. The tip of his cock slipped past your lips easily, and you suckled which drew a long moan from Seokjin. He pushed on the back of your head, and you pushed back in fear at the size of him.

“Don’t worry, it will fit. Vampire precome is a bit of an aphrodisiac, now open wide for your prince,” he told you with a glint in his eye. As if his words were compelling you, your jaw laxed and his shaft eased further past your lips. Eager to please him you released your grip only to steady your hands on his delectable thighs. He cocked an eyebrow at your action, but his steely expression broke when you opened your mouth ever wider and took him all the way in.

“Fuck!” Came from his plush lips and he threw his head back, hips rocking slightly.

Surprisingly, you felt no discomfort and your gag reflex seemed almost non-existent, and you began to bob your head back and forth.

“Fucking hell…mm. You're such a good little slut,” Seokjin grunted as he began to thrust harder, the way he began to look wrecked had your cheeks warming. You swallowed around his length and he almost snarled, his grip on your scalp tightening. His cock plunged into your throat over and over, his endless precome filling your mouth with sweetness each time he pulled out so the tip rested on your tongue.

“You’re going to make me come, little human. Such a perfect mouth for- ugh - me to fuck.” He pushed in once more, pulling on your hair until your nose touched his abdomen, and you could feel your cunt weeping uncomfortably from his praise. “Look at the way your throat is bulging. You’re enjoying this too much, making such a mess on the floor.”

A small puddle had gathered beneath you, your need growing more and more, and the suddenly need for relief hit you hard. One of your hands let go of his leg to snake down your abdomen to ease some of the ache.

“Absolutely not.” He snapped, shoving himself down your throat again. “You’ve been such a good girl, don’t misbehave now. You will wait until, mfph, after I’ve come, and you will swallow every drop. I’m close.”

His grip on your hair grew brutal yet it only drew more moans from you as you had a high pain threshold. It was a beautiful sight as his thrusts faltered, the way his pillowy lips parted, the thick column of his throat flexing and his body trembling as his orgasm washed over him. Not to mention the heavenly moans he let out.

Ropes of his warm, thick release spurted to the back of your throat. It was far from unpleasant, however, nothing like the salty, almost bitter taste of human cum. Just about everything about vampires was designed to lure you in, and you moaned a little while swallowing the thick white liquid.

“Good girl,” Seokjin cooed at you as you licked your lips.

“Please, your highness. I need to come. Please make me come, it hurts.” You begged, practically whimpering at his feet. In his post orgasm bliss, he gently cupped your cheek, even stroked your hair a little with the other hand while he looked at you tenderly.

“Come sit my sweet, let me ease your pain,” he cooed as he sunk back into his chair, easily tugging you around and catching you before you stumbled on wobbly legs. “Face the mirror.” A small whimper left you as you felt the length of him pressing into your lower back as you were brought flush against his chest.

“Hmm, let’s see. I wonder if I can make you squirt. Now wouldn’t that be fun,” he growled into your ear, grinning at the way you mewled and begged. “You’ve never squirted before, have you? That pathetic human boy I know you let fuck you behind the stables always left you unsatisfied.”

Your eyes widened, alarmed that he knew such a thing. “I’ve been watching you for some time, prey are always fun to stalk. Fuck whoever said you shouldn’t play with your food, they obviously don’t know how to have fun.”

Your whole body trembled as he gripped the flesh of your thighs, hands tugging them wide open so your swollen folds were on full display. They were glistening from how wet you had gotten, your engorged clitoris pulsing from your increasing heartbeat. It was almost painful, the throbbing in your nether regions. How your skin tingled and grew hot.

Each pound of your heart thundered in your ears like a drum, the aphrodisiac spreading through your bloodstream. It was like delicious poison, and you were dying a slow but beautiful death at the hands of a deadly predator. The only cure was to draw the poison from one’s body through release, through climax. Your cure was his body, his fingers, his cock, his bite.

“Look at that,” Seokjin teased, a single finger swiping through your lips to collect your sticky juices. With a feather light touch he teased the slicked digit over your clit and you clenched helplessly at the promise of stimulation. You snapped your legs shut, trapping his hand between your thighs to antagonise him. “Keep them open” he growled into your ear, supernatural strength tearing the apart again. His hand drew away, only to come back with a sharp slap on your poor pussy. Out of instinct your thighs tried closing again, but Seokjin was quick to reprimand you again with a succession of harsh slaps. Each one made you almost jump out of his lap, but you quickly learned to force your legs to stay apart. It took a few more slaps which left your thighs trembling, but you managed.

“Good girl,” he cooed when finally, you did as you were asked. Your chest rose and fell from your heavy breathing, and his flattened fingers rubbed over your sopping pussy lips. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head, unable to muster the words. However, a near scream came from you as two of his long fingers plunged into your wet heat, which was practically screaming for relief, crooking them and seeking out your most sensitive bundle of nerves nestled inside your cunt. You needed no preparation at all, the sheer amount of slick staining the insides of your thighs a testimony to that.

“Another time I’d very much like to do this with my cock buried deep into that tight little ass of yours, sluts like you always seem to squirt more when you fuck them there. What do you think?”

Before you even had a chance to answer, his hand wrapped itself around the column of your throat, fingers pressing into the blood flow and restricting your pulse. The action left you lost for an answer, all your other senses suddenly skyrocketing because of the light headedness. At that exact moment when the room began to spin, his fingers pumped ever fasted, and mixed with the aphrodisiac that had your entire body tingling with electricity you found yourself hurtling into your first orgasm.

However, it seemed the prince was intent on finding your breaking point. A wicked smirk spread across his face as you writhed in his lap despite being held firmly down, eyes rolling back as the room spun and you felt yourself gush around his fingers with a scream.

“That’s it! Good girl, soak my fingers, c’mon. I know you can come again for me.”

His assault on your most sensitive spot didn’t stop, and your thighs trembled as he relented his grip, air filling your lungs once more. You weren’t sure if your first high even finished before a sudden overwhelming feeling of pleasure gripped you, and your bones melted as you climaxed and squirted again.

Thankfully he showed some mercy, allowing you to grind yourself on his fingers at your own pace. The last waves of your orgasm ebbed away as you moaned softly, but you were far from satisfied. No, if anything you were just getting warmed up. While his fingers had felt nice, you needed the deep feeling of his cock or you felt like you might die.

“Please. I want you, I need you to fuck me. Nothing else matters right now,” the sound of your voice was pure desperation.

“Nothing else matters?” Seokjin drawled, pushing your hair to one shoulder. “I could do anything right now if it meant I gave you what you want?”

“Yes, anything. Anything!”

The first brush of his fangs against your throat had your racing heart stopping, but he was quick to pull away.

He lifted your body like you weighed nothing, manoeuvring you with his inhuman strength. The tip of his already erect again cock brushed against your entrance between your slick, swollen folds, and he began easing in. If you weren’t already so worked up the stretch would surely have been painful, but your cunt easily took him inch by inch. He hadn’t even bottomed out before you gripped him tightly, trying to rock for some friction but he held you still.

“Look at me,” he growled in your ear, and your gaze met his in the large mirror right as he bottomed out and the tip kissed your cervix. Despite his strength you still managed to squirm somewhat, whimpering at the pleasure his cock brought. He seemed to relax his hold on you a little, allowing you more freedom to move which you quickly took advantage of.

“Oh f-fuck, Seokjin,” came your breathy whine. His face twisted in pleasure and he seemed to give in, shifting his large hands down to your hips to aid you in your grinding. Back and forth you moved, panting heavily, skin glistening in the golden light as Seokjin watched the way your soft breasts moved and your belly bulged slightly.

“Sit forward,” he half grunted, half moaned as he slumped back in the chair. His words barely registered with you until he tugged on your hips, using his strength to begin fucking you harder on his length. With a yelp at the sudden change in pace, you grabbed onto his knees and your eyes rolled back in your head, helpless to do anything but allow him to do as he pleased. “You have such pretty tits, I love watching them bounce as you take my cock so well.”

His words of praise had your toes curling, that building pleasure in your abdomen growing tenfold, and it only made you want to please him more. “I love it, I love having you fuck me like this. You can have me whenever you want!”

“How delectable you are. I ought to punish you for keeping yourself away from me. For letting others whom are not worthy sample your sweet nectar. But alas, it was only a matter of time before you gave yourself to me,” he moaned, sitting forward so his mouth was right up against the shell of your ear. “Now, your reward for being such a good girl.”

As fast as you could blink, one hand snaked up under your chin to hold you in place. His pillowy lips brushed the flesh of your neck, seeking out right where your pulse was strongest. For half a second you felt a sharp prick, terror momentarily gripping you as the tips of his fangs found their mark. Seokjin bit down into your flesh like butter, the razor-sharp incisors burying deep. However, there was no pain, only a deep warmth that bled through your neck from where he bit you. Within seconds he began ever so gently moving his hips, his cock still buried inside you brushing against your g-spot. The warmth began spreading across your whole body, melting your bones and your cunt began throbbing, an orgasm building very quickly.

“Oh- Seokjin, I-” Before you could even finish the sentence it hit all over, making every muscle in your body quake with pleasure. Thankfully he was equipped with adequate strength to hold you in place, like the perfect predator he was.

It went on and on, your muscles quivering, your cunt quaking and your little pants and gasps filling the room as he swallowed mouthfuls of blood.

“So sweet,” he gasped as he pulled away, finally giving you reprieve. “Delectable.” His plush lips were stained pink from the little drops of blood that had escaped, some even dripping down your shoulder as you twitched from the aftershocks.

His hot tongue swiped over your skin, cleaning any spots of blood that had been left. A wave of sudden nausea washed over you and you slumped forward, luckily for Seokjin’s reflexes his arms wrapped around you before you fell.

“Do you want to stop?” He whispered with a sudden tender note, hands cradling you gently when you couldn’t hold yourself up.

“No! No...please. I just need a moment...m tired,” you mumbled, eyes drooping.

“It’s normal, don’t worry. I have something that will make you feel better, here.” Gently he began easing you off his lap, his length beginning to slip out but you whined in protest. “You have to let me move princess, don’t worry. I’ll fill you up again in a moment.”

Somewhat pacified by his promise, you allowed yourself to be lifted and before you could blink you were sinking into the soft cushions of the chair. Your eyes slipped shut after Seokjin had vanished suddenly, and you heard him rummage around the room behind you.

“Here,” he murmured, and you opened your eyes to see him kneeling in front of you. His hand tenderly cupped the back of your head as he pressed a glass to your lips.

The liquid was delightfully warm, tasting of plum and spices and you hummed happily as you swallowed it down. He whispered little encouragements to you, tipping the cup when you needed until it was empty.

“Good girl. It happens to all humans after feeding, you’ll be fine in a moment.” With that he disappeared, perhaps getting himself a drink while you recovered. The potion was fairly quick to take effect, filling your tired muscles with a thrum of newfound energy. One that had your libido coming straight back from the lingering aphrodisiac in your veins.

“I can keep going,” you told him, standing with an air of determination. Seokjin was quick to rush to your side again, steadying you when your legs wobbled a little. He arched a brow in question, not quite believing you. “Please, I don’t want you to stop.”

“If you say so.” He appeared behind you, drinking in every inch of your naked skin like he was ready to devour you all over again. Seokjin hooked his arm behind your elbows, pulling you flush to him and effectively pushing your chest forward.

“You’ll have to stay on your toes, do you think you can do that little human?” His teeth grazed your earlobe as he whispered into your ear. Eagerly you nodded, standing on the balls of your feet, entire being thrumming with a newfound energy as you felt the tip of his cock brushing through your folds.

Once again he sought out your entrance, easily sinking back into your warmth and you whimpered at how deep he reached from this new angle. Immediately he set a brutal pace, loud slaps echoing about the room along with your cries and his low grunts.

“Please, harder! I don’t want you to be gentle.” Came your cry, attempting to drop down to meet each move of his pelvis. Only a feral snarl came from the vampire behind you, fulfilling your wish by now slamming himself into you.

With each thrust his hip bones dug into your ass cheeks and your breasts bounced. The thickness of his cock had you moaning like a whore each time it split your walls open, his tip kissing your cervix. The angle of his hips was expert, he was obviously an experienced lover but you didn’t expect him to be this good.

“Look at me. Who’s fucking you like this? Who?” He growled into your ear.

“Seokjin!” You wailed as he once again speared you on his length. A sharp slap to your clit had you keening, rising to your tiptoes again from the sharp stab of pleasure. “Prince Seokjin!” You hastily corrected, his slight discipline also reminding you to keep your gaze on your reflexion.

“Good girl. Such an eager little slut, so ready to serve your prince.”

“Always. I’ll always be ready and willing for you to use me as you please. Oh! I’m gonna come again!”

“Good girl. Fuck, you can really take it. Come for your prince,” he growled, hand snaking down to rub circles on your clit.

Muscles tensing you shuddered, feeling the euphoric feeling wash over you once again as he fucked you through your high. If it weren’t for him holding you up, surely your legs would have given out from how much they shook. A sudden wave of tiredness washed over you, the potion’s effect exhausted and you slumped in Seokjin’s arms.

He pulled out and you moved suddenly with a whoosh of air, soft sheets underneath your stomach. Seokjin was on you again straight away, picking right back up where he left off and parting your thighs, you moaned at the sudden stretch as he buried his cock into your cunt once again.

“M-gonna, fill you uh- up, fuck!” He panted, thrusts growing sloppy as he panted loudly on top of you. Leaving no room between your sticky bodies, he draped across you entirely, barely keeping his weight off you. It was strangely comforting, making your toes curl pleasantly in your post orgasm bliss as Seokjin shuddered above you. Heavenly moans and profanities spilled from lips as he came, warmth spilling inside you with a few last thrusts. Lazily you reached beneath you, rubbing circles into your throbbing, blood fattened nub to ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Still panting, he leaned down to whisper something in your ear as you drifted off to sleep before disappearing like a shadow in the night. Spent and muscles aching, you laid on the soft sheets as the sun rose, his words finally sinking in.

“See you tomorrow night.”

#bts smut #seokjin smut #vampire seokjin #bts imagine #seokjin imagine #kim seokjin #kim seokjin smut

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missdawnandherdusk · 3 years

Text

once upon a flight

Draco X Reader (post war)

Summary: The Wizarding World earnestly searched for the newly discovered Heir of Gryffindor. After many failed attempts at the claim, McGonagall almost gives up hope, but sends off one final letter. Draco looking for a reason to clear his name has an ulterior motive to find you... that is until he meets you.

A/n: So, as promised, an Anastasia AU that is frankly one of my favorite things in a while. For all intents and purposes Snape isn’t dead because this is my blog and my word is law. Also, this is about 10k words... so you’re welcome.

Long ago, Hogwarts was founded by four great wizards: Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff. The Slytherin heir was found centuries later in one Tom Riddle who became the greatest Dark Wizard of all time, only to be defeated by the great Harry Potter. Yet, the story of the heirs does not end there. The unfortunate demise of Helena Ravenclaw ended the lineage of the Ravenclaw house for she had no children. The Hufflepuff heir, Cedric Diggory was killed in the war by Voldemort. Only one heir remains, and their whereabouts are unknown to all, but sought after by most. Minerva McGonagall is keen on the discovery of this witch or wizard, the last true heir of Hogwarts, and perhaps the most powerful of them all. Only in the hands of the true heir, will Godric’s mighty sword come alive with magic once more.

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

“It’s a girl, raised muggle, in America,” Snape threw down the Daily Prophet. “This could be your chance,”

“My chance to what?” Draco huffed, running a hand through his hair before examining the paper. “Like a Slytherins could ever find this Gryffindor heir, let alone in muggle America,”

“But if you do,” Snape hinted, a smile curling on his lips. “It might clear your names,”

“Would you give that a rest?” Draco muttered, throwing the newspaper down of a very scared looking American girl. “Even if I do find this girl, why in the world would she trust me?”

“Because, she might have questions, and who is going to be there with the answers for her?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

Draco pondered the idea, then glanced at your photo in the paper in front of him. And he thought there perhaps might be a chance.

____________________________

“London?” I eyed the passport dubiously. “What long lost aunt wants me in London? And why did she show up now?” My fingers ran over the long letter explaining everything and nothing.

“Do you want to go or not?” Mrs. Greenwood asked. “Because I’ve got a lot of girl like you who’d kill for a chance at a family again.” Her snappy condescending voice wouldn’t be missed.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.”

I zipped my bag closed, folding the letter, and placing it in my bag with the plane ticket and passport. It was a long drive to the airport that was filled with people who all went about their business. I had never felt more lost. I read the letter again as I waited for my plane to arrive. Something proved magical about the parchment and inked letters. A style never used in a modern day. It gave me hope. Or an unsettling sense of dread.

“Excuse me,” His voice was polite and broke through the music of my headphones. It was his accent that caught me off guard. He was a brit.

“Yes?” I asked, taking out an earbud.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a Ms. McGonagall, would you? I’m supposed to be aiding her niece back to London,” I eyed him skeptically.

“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow. “Alright pretty boy, tell me, what absolute stranger is going to trust a random brit who comes up to her claiming to know the name of someone that he could easily have read off the girl’s letter?” He seemed amused at my skepticism.

“I suppose you’re right,” The stranger didn’t seem cornered, however. His caviler didn’t waver. “What if I told this stranger that hypothetically I knew that her aunt wasn’t really her aunt but someone looking for her to be claimed as the heir to a school of magic?”

“Well, hypothetically, I’d probably laugh and call security,” I eyed the cop, whose gaze caught mine before flashing to the beautiful stranger before me.

“And if I proved to her that magic was real? Would this stranger believe me?” Danger lurked in his eyes.

I snorted. “If you can prove that magic is real, I’ll follow you anywhere buddy,”

“Careful there stranger, you’re promising something you might not want to,” He warned.

“I think I know what I can handle pretty boy,”

Without another word, he took my hand, clasping it in his. Glancing around he slowly raised his hand away from my palm, where a flower began to bud and bloom from nothing, sparking in the fluorescent lighting. I wasn’t impressed.

“Nice trick, but I’m not convinced.”

The stranger laughed. “I should have known it would take more to convince you,” He ran a hand through his silvery blond hair, looking around, before his gaze settled back on me. “What if I told you that you could do magic?”

“I’d say you’re crazy and were back to calling security,” I went to walk away, I had enough time before my flight that a quick walk wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“But you must have felt it,” His hand reached for mine. “When you were younger, and things happened around you that you couldn’t explain. A sense that you didn’t belong. That you were different. That you could see and feel and do things that others couldn’t.” His words were earnest and urgent. I paused.

“And if I did?” I didn’t face him.

“That you hear stories of magic and fairytales, and you thought maybe you belonged in them because there was no one quite like you,” My eyes met his, baffled, curious. “And you felt it just now, not on the surface of your skin, but in your hand, in your blood, a feeling in your heart that felt right. That felt powerful,”

“Okay, pretty boy, you seem to know a lot about who you think I am, so what’s your deal?’ I folded my arms, still not completely convinced but more than curious.

“I told you, I’m here to help you get to London in one piece and how to be an heir of magic.” The light in his eyes glinted as if he had won.

“Alright, let’s say hypothetically I believe you, then what?”

“I’d buy you a cup of coffee and we’d try this again?” He raised an eyebrow, nodding to a chain Starbucks that was near dead in the early hours of the morning.

I stared at the chai tea latte that was warming my hands. He didn’t say a word. Draco. The beautiful stranger who promised answers. Who looked a bit too good to be true.

“From here, I get a letter for an aunt I didn’t know that I had, and a plane ticket to London. Then I met you, claiming that you know her and that you’re here to help me. Then you tell me that my aunt really isn’t my aunt, and that magic is real and I’m the heir to some sort of magic school in London? This is a really good way to get kidnapped and never heard from again,” My skepticism grew. He could see that.

“You’re not wrong,” He leaned onto the table, closer to me. “And you wouldn’t believe me unless you knew that magic was real.”

“Every lonely girl dreams of fairytales and magic,” I countered. “Is it so far-fetched to really believe it?”

“Believing sure,” He gave an easy smile. “But you can do magic and you know it,”

“How do you know what I know?” I snapped back.

“I know you’re in denial,” He chuckled. “And easy, you’re doing it now, but no one could tell you that you were because it’s subtle and hard to pick up on,”

“In what way?” I demanded.

“Defense spell,” His smirk started the urge in me to deck him. He was so self-assured, and it drove me insane. What was worse, was that he might be right about everything.

“Sure, why not,” My tone fell flat. “Okay pretty boy, how exactly am I using a defense spell?” I leaned back in my chair, unamused.

“No one in this airport gave you any trouble. A strange man comes up to you and you show signs of distress, and yet no one helps you. You’re hiding yourself from their point of view. It’s very self-assured of you to think you can handle yourself,” His explanation made to much sense... again.

“I’m the self-assured one?” I muttered. “And sorry to burst your bubble English, but this is America and we all pretty much keep our heads down.”

“And yet the second you decided to trust me, the security guard walked the other way—away from his post I might add,” His confident smile didn’t leave.

“He... what?” Now I backtracked.

“You like to be left alone, I can admire that, but you have so much potential and you could do so much more,”

“And if I don’t want to?” I offered a bit hopeless.

“Sure, go be a faceless nobody in the sea of Americans, work a nine to five, and never see adventure or magic again in your life,” He leaned back in his chair, casual. As if what he offered was the option a rational person would choose.

“And I should trust you? To take me to London and bring me to this magic school to be an heir or whatever it is you Brits do?”

“You seem quite offset that I’m not American,” His amused smile returned.

“Force of habit,” I shrugged, giving a carefree smile that caused indignation to flicker into his eyes.

“Well, you have approximately thirty seconds to decide if you trust me before you’re called to board,” His devious smirk had me reeling to look at the gate and the flight attendant who was ruffling through papers and getting ready to signal boarding groups.

“God, I hate you,” I muttered, resigned. “Fine. Whatever. Life of adventure and magic, sure.”

We boarded and Draco took the seat akin to mine in first class without the bat an of eyelash. My anxiety began to flare again thinking of how easy it was for him to find a place next to me on a full flight to London in the early hours of the morning.

Then there was the matter of flying altogether. I had never been on a plane ride before. And I was about to be on a nine-hour flight with a supposed magician and a promise of adventure. What had I gotten myself into?

“I can hear you worrying.” Draco muttered as the plane left the runway and began to ascend.

“I’ve never flown in a plane before in my life. All things considered, I think I’m allowed to worry,” I snapped.

Draco reached into his bag and held out a small vial filled with an amber liquid.

“Here, take this,” He offered it to me.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” I snorted. “There is no way in hell that I’m taking that.”

“Y/n, please,” It was the first time that he had ever used my name. A name I hadn’t told him. A name he knew. A name that got my attention and reminded me of the situation that I was in.

“What is it?” I took the vail from his nimble fingers.

“Anxiety potion,” He explained calmly. “It will calm your stress levels and allow you to think clearly,”

“Magic?” I eyed him dubiously.

“A form of it. Your people call it chemistry, but we have access to more ingredients than the causal muggle,”

“Muggle?” I raised an eyebrow, still examining the contents of the small vial.

“People who can’t do magic nor live with other wizards,”

“Wizards,” I mused softly to myself.

The pilot informed the cabin that we had reached cruising altitude and my anxiety came back, overshadowing the tales of wizards and magic and the perfect stranger beside me. Draco could sense that. He let out an aggravated huff and rolled his eyes.

“Use your senses Y/n, you don’t know how to control it yet, but you have magic in your blood. It’s kept you alive and ahead this long. What are they telling you? Not your fears and anxiety, but your heart and head.” His voice was low and urgent, and I had to concentrate to catch all of his words.

“This isn’t another one of your—”

“Y/n,” He pressed, not having it with my second thoughts and doubts. “Concentrate.”

Deciding to trust him, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The air around me was artificial and frigid. It made my senses stand keen on edge. It was unnatural to me. I could feel the people as they settled down for the long flight. The pilot shifting and the attendants flitting about. They were all overly ordinary. Like most people I had been surrounded with my entire life.

Then there was Draco beside me. I could feel his warmth, his presence... his aura. Unlike anything I had encountered before. A halo of power and... magic that embraced and clung to the edges of him. It matched the silvery blue of his eyes trailing off into green. I could trust him. But there was a darkness underneath that I couldn’t trust. The one that I feared.

Then the vial clasped between my fingers. It held no ill will toward me as I thought of it. It promised to help in words that didn’t belong to Draco beside me. Something all of it’s own. All of my own.

Another deep breath out.

“Okay,”

“What did you gather?” He didn’t taunt me, but rather it was genuine curiosity that colored his tone.

“You’re... different. From the rest of the people on this plane. You... there’s like... an aura? A feeling but with color? I don’t know...” My eyebrows furrowed. “It told me I can trust you... but there’s something darker underneath... and I’m not sure... I’m not sure I trust that darkness.”

He stared at me, baffled. Not that I had said what I said, but instead what I had said.

“The... the darkness.” He muttered. “I thought...”

“That you could hide it?” I raised an eyebrow, only half teasing. We all had darkness. I wouldn’t hold his against him.

“That there would be more... the things I’ve done,” He was a burning man before me. I looked down to the vial in my hands. I toyed with it.

“Here’s to new beginnings?” I offered a bit hopeless, breaking the wax seal and downing the contents like a parched man in a desert who comes upon an oasis.

And I understood what he meant. A pack of stress and the ability to think clearly. All of the fogginess that the anxiety induced was gone. I looked at the world around me with new eyes.

“Woah,” I whispered, looking at Draco clearly for the first time.

A smile played at his lips.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

I nodded and looked out at the grey and blue beneath the plane. Closing the shade, I turned to Draco as much as the first-class seat would allow.

“So magic?”

“Where do you want me to start?” He was expecting my question.

“The beginning is a good place,”

“We’d be here forever,” Draco chuckled. “I’ll start at the beginning of what would be your story though”

I marveled at his words. Two worlds divided but always existing beside each other. Sometimes they would intertwine sometimes they would be forgotten. He spoke of being raised in such a negative perspective of muggles and the life I led, putting me on edge until he gave a placid smile and an apology. His tale turned darker with the war that was fought and a hope that was lost and found again.

“Potter,” Draco’s tone snarled around the name.

“Harry Potter,” I mused. “So why can’t he be the heir of this Gryffindor whoever?”

“Like that would help his ego any,” Draco muttered flatly. “And he can’t because he’s a half blood. The heirs are pure blood wizards, not a drop of Muggle blood in them,”

“Okay...” my brows knit together. “But how does that explain me? They told me my mother was... and my father walked out on her. She died giving birth to me,”

“Back in the early days of the first war, I can only assume your parents were against the Dark Lord which gave them their death sentence. Especially if he knew you were the heir of Gryffindor,”

“But I’m not dead,” I pointed out.

“Seems that way,” Draco gave me an amused smirk. “They must not have known you existed. And seeing as you were raised in America, I came see why they—no one knew. Not until recently anyway.”

“But how did they find me? How did you find me? How did this letter even find me?”

“Would you accept magic as an answer to those three questions?” Draco tried.

“Sure, but I’m still creeped out,” I folded my arms. “Heir to a school of Magic...” I pondered the words aloud for the first time. “What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Whatever you want,” Draco shrugged.

Our conversation pulled after that into almost nothing. I closed my eyes once more and began to feel the world around me through my newfound sixth sense. It became overwhelming after a few moments but when homing in on Draco’s presence quelled some of that overstimulation. His aura was calming, as if it were a foreign lullaby to my heart. A lullaby that lulled me to sleep before long.

But a darkness lingered still in my dreams. It was alien. Not what I had seen in Draco and not what I knew was within me. Something else. An evil presence that yearned to be free. To take control. To have power. It wanted me. It was suffocating. It dragged me down. Down. Down. Draco felt further away. The plane, it’s passengers, nothing but specks. The darkness dragged me forward. Red eyes stared me down and a smile full of knifes taunted me.

I struggled back, away from the evilness, trying to break free of the darkness but I was trapped. By back was against a wall. There was no escape.

A flicker of silver caught my attention. Bright and beautiful. A ray of hope. My eyes dared to leave the shadow figure to follow that ray. When I saw it again it because more clear. The wisps of a dragon made of pure light. It did not come for me, rather it showed me the way out.

There was a way out.

I gasped, my eyes fluttering open to see the glow of fluorescent lighting and worried grey eyes.

“What—that—who—” I sputtered, my heart racing.

“Are you okay?” His genuine concern called to me. I nodded, tears stinging my eyes.

“What was that Draco?”

“I don’t know,” From his tone I knew that he did not like not knowing. “But you’re safe now,” The comfort of his arms around me made me believe his words more than I thought I would. “We’ll land in a couple hours, just try to relax,” His tone was soft, something new.

The grey dim of London didn’t impress me. I squinted up at the misting rain. Draco took my hand and led me through the maze of the airport, gathering our bags and ushering me toward an empty alley way.

“Draco,” I warned, not enjoying the situation.

“Just hold tight to me and don’t touch the edges,” He instructed. “Don’t let go of your bag either,”

“What? Why?” I broke away from him, to his annoyance.

“Can’t you just do what you’re told? No questions asked?” He seemed to be asking the sky more than he was asking me. I gave him a flat look. “It’s magic. It’s called apperating. It’s going to feel weird, but you should be fine.” He offered his hand to me again.

“Should be?”

“We don’t have time for this Y/n,” He stressed.

“Like hell we do,” I snapped.

“Fine, if you’re not fine then you have total permission to hit me, that make you feel better?” He demanded, insisting that I take his hand.

“No,” I mumbled, placing my hand in his.

That feeling of power was back when he took out a wand—his wand—and twirling it, before I could make fun of him, we were whisked away, and I had to remember to hold on. The distorted reality around me was so enticing to touch, as if it were an impressionist painting that replaced with the dingy grey around me. Then it stopped.

“Where are we?” The scenery changed, still a duller grey, but now in front of a large mansion that I had only seen in movies.

“Malfoy Manor,” Draco said curtly. “Come along,”

Taking a second to recover from the beauty that was all around me, I grabbed my bag and followed him inside where I gasped again. The house looked like something of those fairytales I had always dreamed about.

“Are you coming?” Draco asked promptly.

“I... do you live here!?” I scrambled after him up the stairs with my bag.

“Yes,” He didn’t understand my amazement. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve never been something this... beautiful before,” I turned back to look over the banister at the grand foyer. “You just... live here?”

“Yes,” Now there was a smile playing at his lips. “Come on, we’ve still got much to do,”

“There’s more!?” I followed him up the stairs.

“You haven’t used magic in your entire life, and you think I’m gonna let you waltz in there scared and unprepared?” Draco snorted opening up a random door. “This will be your room. We have a couple days—it won’t be enough time but perhaps I can make you somewhat believable...”

“No one said anything about having to prove I was the heir!” I argued, again taken back by the lavish room but ultimately was overridden by my anger and fear. “Show up, sure! Maybe take a DNA test! But act like some wizard protégée!?”

“Witch,” He mended softly. “And we’ve got this under control,”

“We?” I did not have this under control.

“Snape and I. He will be helping me help you. There’s a lot you need to learn. But for now, rest. Dinner is in an hour,” Closing the door he left me to my thoughts.

Sitting on the bed I looked around the room. Anxiety began to creep in my chest again, but not for the reason it had... this morning. Could it still be the same day? Could I have only met Draco a dozen or so hours ago? My thoughts were reeling.

“A witch, an heir,” I scoffed. “Magic,” it was more of a whisper.

I lifted my hand and remembering the power and golden feeling that had come when Draco created a flower in my palm, I surged for the magic within me. To my surprise, golden flames licked at my fingertips, shimmering in the evening light. A giddy laugh left my lips as I intensified the flame to consume my entire hand.

“He said you were a quick learner,” A stern and nasally voice drew me from my stupor.

My hand dropped and my flame fizzled out as I stood.

“I—uh,”

“I am Severus Snape. I am here to help you. It is in your best interest to do exactly as I say without any questions. Understood?”

“Uh... okay?”

“Dinner will be downstairs soon. Draco would like you to join us. There are clothes in the wardrobe. Change into something more suitable and come down.” His instructions left no room for argument, but my stubbornness flared, yet he left before I could snark a reply.

Mourning my sweater jeans and converse I headed to the elaborate wardrobe and opened the great oak doors to reveal an array of gowns, cloaks, and dresses. Together they were worth more than any amount of money I had come into contact with. And of much higher taste than I’d dare to ever wear.

Riffling through them there was a semi bearable dress that looked as if it were from the 1950s and held a navy-blue color. It would have to do, and it could have been worse. I eyed a heavy shimmering gown with pearls and lace, shuddering at the thought.

———————————————

Draco’s day could have been a lot worse than it ended up being. After finally giving in at Snape’s insistence that he fly back to England and not apparate he thought his day was a lost cause. But then he met you and Merlin were you a handful.

He could easily see the magic you were doing and the power you were giving off. It took a lot of his willpower to not submit and leave you alone, as your defense ordered. But as soon as your eyes met his and a smile played at your lips, he didn’t have to fight any longer. You allowed him to stay close to you, assured that he meant you no harm. No one had trusted him like that in years.

For the heir of Hogwarts, you were quite remarkable. An easy sorting into Gryffindor with or without the hat. He had to play his cards right however, to maneuver you into a world of magic from the mundane of America. But he accomplished the feat, easier than he would have thought done. Perhaps you were more than ready to leave your Muggle world and join his magic one. And not like he could blame you. If he never had to ride in a plane again, he’d do anything.

But just as he thought you were safe, your eyes closed in a peaceful slumber, something dark came back to hurt you. Red eyes that he knew well. How... how he didn’t know. But he could feel the cold evil presence seep into your skin and consume your aura. It terrified him. Draco knew you were defenseless. No amount of unintentional magic could keep the Dark Lord at bay, dead or alive.

So, he did something he never had before in a desperate attempt to protect you and him from that evil. He called his Patronus, touching his wand to your temple, willing it to go and pull you out.

Your eyes flashing open, fear written on your usual confident features, your hands digging into his arms, Draco’s heart churned in his chest. You looked to him for safety. Him—who you’d met barely five hours prior when you were sure he was there to kidnap you. And now you held to him like a prayer. He didn’t expect that. There was nothing else he could do but hold you close and assure you that it was going to be okay.

If you two could ever get off this godforsaken plane.

With touchdown, Draco wasted no time in dragging you by the hand through the throng of the Muggle airport before he lost his temper. In a secluded alley he was finally ready to apparate home. Of course, you had thoughts of your own and he really wasn’t about to fight with you on this. He just wanted to go home. So, he gave in. Just this once.

And Merlin he was thankful that he did. He had never been so happy to see the Manor. You had never seen a Manor before. He almost laughed at the childlike wonder on your face. But instead, he was enamored by it, the same way you were enamored by a house that had lost its shine to him over the years. Draco longed to see the mansion through your eyes even for a moment.

“Your mother wrote,” Snape offered a letter. “She’ll be here within a day,” Draco sighed and skimmed the letter. “Do you still think this is a good idea?” “It’s the best one we’ve got,”

Before Draco could argue, the clearing of your throat softly drew his attention. You had changed into one of his mother’s old dresses that he hadn’t seen in years and you looked quite sheepish about it. Draco stood, out of respect or perhaps startlement. Snape gave him a look which he promptly ignored, going over to you.

“I... I hope it’s alright,” You fiddled with the skirt. “He... he said I could—that I should...”

“You look wonderful,” Draco encouraged softly. “Come, dinner is ready.”

He took your hand and led you through the large house, tuning out Snape’s instruction to you about how to hold yourself as you walked. Draco smiled at the annoyance in your eyes.

Dinner was... more or less a disaster. Your stubbornness met Snape’s instruction, getting you both nowhere.

“If you want to become the Heir of Hogwarts you will listen to me,” Snape almost snarled.

“I don’t want to become the heir!” You stood abruptly, throwing your cloth napkin onto the table. “I just want to know who I am!” Storming out of the dining room, Draco watched you, before sharing a look with Snape.

“She’s hopeless,” Snape muttered.

“You’re dealing with an American Gryffindor; did you think she was just going to sit still and look pretty?” Draco chuckled, standing.

It took him a while to find you. Draco could only fathom that you had gotten lost in the house yourself and winded up on a balcony somewhere on the third floor. You had a blanket draped around your shoulders as you stared up at the stars. The night had cleared, giving clarity to its pathfinders.

“I know what you’re going to say,” You spoke softly, sensing him nearby. “I... I can’t do this Draco. I’m not some lady, some long lost princess in some sort of fairytale. Magic or not...” You took a sharp breath in. “Fairytales are just stories. I’m still a girl with no parents, no family, no past... and no future.”

Draco studied you, wondering how you had changed so much from the confident self-assured girl he’d met this morning. He also had little clue what to say to cheer you up. So, he did what normally comforted him, he spoke fondly of his mother.

“My mother wore that dress,” He began softly, leaning against the door frame. “When I was young, before Hogwarts. Father would always be away on business. She’d take me to the garden, and we’d have a picnic. I remember her in that dress on those warm summer days,” Draco let his eyes slipped closed, lost in the memory. “She used to tell me that I’d never be alone. That as long as I could do magic, I’d always have a place to belong. That there would always be someone out there like me.” He paused. “Hogwarts was my home for quite some time. Slytherins were my family.”

“Who am I to come and claim it as mine then?” The words barely left your lips.

“You’ve been alone and away from your family for so long now. Don’t you think you deserve to go home? To a place that you belong?” You turned to face him, hope flickering in your eyes.

“But I—” You ran a hand through your hair nervously. “I’m never going to be good enough. Dinner was a disaster and I’m never going to please someone like Snape, let alone any other wizard!”

Draco couldn’t do anything but laugh. “No one can please Snape, darling. Don’t take that personally.” He sobered a bit. “You’ve never going to please everyone. Believe me I know. But... it’s more about becoming someone you’re proud of,”

“I don’t know who that is,” You turned back to the stars.

“If you run away, you’ll never know,” Draco mused, standing next to you, leaning on the railing. “But... if you truly can’t stand it in the next three days... I’ll take you back myself,”

You looked over to him, a swirl of emotions unidentifiable on your face. Before he could start to decipher even one of them, your gaze turned downward. He let out a soft sigh.

“If it’s any consolation,” Draco began. “I believe in you. I think you belong,” He turned to leave.

“Draco, wait,” You called out, “Thank you... I know... I know I’m a handful,”

A smile played at his lips. “That’s one way to describe you,”

You rolled your eyes, but you still didn’t smile and that worried him more than he cared to admit.

“I’ll take you back to your room,” He offered.

“I’m quite capable—” You cut yourself off and sighed. “Thanks, again,”

Staring at your closed door, Draco found himself wanting you back before him, so that he could continue to talk to you. He enjoyed it more than he thought. You didn’t fawn over him, nor did you fear him. Instead, you treated him as an equal. As a person.

“Oh, she looks like a kicked puppy!” His mother fawned the next morning. “Draco Lucius Malfoy I’ve taught you better!”

“It wasn’t me!” Draco argued back. “It was Snape!”

“Don’t you talk back to me young man!” She scolded. “Poor thing,” She turned to you, tucking a strand of hair out of your face. “There, there, I apologize for my son’s behavior,”

There was a look of bewilderment on your face at your gaze met his. He didn’t know what to do but shrug and shake his head.

“It... it really was Snape, Mrs. Malfoy,” you stammered out. “Draco’s been...” He met your eyes again and the words you were about to say died on your lips. Not this his mother noticed.

“Oh, don’t you worry about him!” She consoled, standing. “Severus Snape what have I told you about manners!” His mother shouted. Draco was grateful he was no longer the one being shouted at as his mother left to go and reprimand Snape some more.

“Your mother is...” you started a smile finding your lips. It was the first time you smiled since dinner last night.

“I should have warned you a bit more, that was my mistake,”

“No, she’s lovely,” You insisted.

“You don’t have to lie on my behalf,” Draco mused, earning a laugh from you.

“She really is wonderful,” Your laugh faded to a smile.

“You say that now, but if you thought Snape was a lot,” Draco laughed at the dread in your eyes.

His mother insisted they go to Paris to shop for you. A way to take your mind off yesterday, as well as find you the basics of wizardry. Which started with a wand.

“This is stupid,” You muttered as the shop keeper flitted about the hundreds of wand boxes, tittering in French to his mother.

“You need a wand,” Draco whispered back. “Every wand is unique, so there’s one for you,”

It took a few tries, and a few shattered light fixtures—and repairing spells—before you had a loyal wand in hand. Draco made sure that you could use the wand comfortably and surprised him by calling a lighting charm without the incantation... or him telling you to. He caught his mother’s eye who was clearly impressed with you. A new set of robes, what seemed like a new wardrobe entirely and a few books later, you seemed satisfied.

“I really can’t ask anything more of you,” You argued. “This is all more than enough,”

“Nonsense, darling,” His mother laughed. “Think nothing of it. Every great witch needs the tools to help her be successful,”

You blushed, looking down. “I mean it,” You tried again. “Even a trip to Paris would have been more than enough,”

“You’ve never been to Paris!?” His mother was aghast. You had really done it now. “Draco! Why didn’t you tell me the poor girl has never been to our city?” She turned to you. “You really must forgive his rudeness, I blame his father,”

“He—I—” You stammered.

“But I won’t have you here and not show you the wonders of the greatest city in the world. Come! Come!” She ushered you off and Draco had no choice but to trail behind and make sure you didn’t get into too much trouble.

After what seemed like days—though it was only hours filled with shows, attractions, museums, antique shops and more—his mother finally found a resting place, and by the look on your face and your slumped shoulders, you needed it. It was a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the city scape of Paris, off to the Eiffel Tower that lit up the night sky. You had that look of wonder and enchantment in your eyes again as you took in the city scape. Again. Draco wished he could see it through your eyes... for the first time all over again.

“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” His mother whispered in his ear, far from your earshot. “I’m surprised at you Draco. I’ve never seen you this way around another girl before,”

“She not just another girl mother,” Draco retorted, trying not to blush. “She’s the heir of Hogwarts. The Gryffindor crown princess.” He sighed softly. “She doesn’t have time for...”

“A handsome young man who’s been on his own for too long?” His mother mused.

“A Slytherin,” He finished. “A Death Eater,”

“You’re no more a Death Eater than she is a muggle,” Narcissa said sternly. “I see the way she looks at you Draco,”

“Enough, mother,” Draco shook his head, pursing his lips. “Enough,”

“Fine, fine,” His mother scoffed. “Y/n, darling!” She called.

This dinner was a bit more successful. You were animated with conversation and excitement from the day. There was a way that you spoke about his city that had his heart. Dinner lulled to wine and dessert as couples began to take the dance floor, gliding along to the live band.

“Do you dance darling?” His mother asked, noticing your interested.

“Uh, no, not really,” You stammered, looking sheepish as you blushed.

“Oh, that won’t do! Draco, go on, teach her!” Narcissa gave him a pointed look.

“No really it’s okay!” You refuted before he could.

“Nonsense, every girl must know how to dance, magic or no,” You could both sense that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

So, he ended up with you in his arms on the dance floor as he tried to lead you through a simple waltz.

“You have to trust me,” He instructed, as your eyes met his. “I’m not going to let you fall,” His tone softened.

Your eyes didn’t leave his as you began to find your rhythm in the dance, letting him lead you through it all. Soon you were laughing with joy as he twirled you around the dance floor. He heart skipped a beat or two. The music ended before he wanted it to and a round of applause went up.

And Draco had to let you go.

______________________________

I laid in bed that night, staring at the stars I had created with a simple spell. With the use of my wand, magic was... easy. If I thought and felt what I wanted, it occurred. Though it seemed like a natural process to me, Draco, and Narcissa—and even Snape—were impressed.

Staring regardless, I replayed the night over and over. Dancing with Draco... in Paris... on a rooftop like some sort of stupid fairytale. Whose ending didn’t belong to me. It was the one question I didn’t ask through Narcissa’s lessons. What happened to Draco and I after I had claimed my ‘throne’?

It left me sleepless.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered to him the next day, in front of the grand gates of Hogwarts.

My anxiety was through the roof. Clad in new formal robes, and hair and makeup perfected courtesy of Narcissa, all I had to do was walk in.

“We can still turn back,” Draco gave.

“I can’t do that either,” I muttered, causing him to laugh.

“I believe in you, Y/n,” His earnest words caught my attention and out gazes lingered a bit too long, leaving us both blushing.

“Just... don’t leave me,”

“I remember you telling me that if I could prove magic to you, you’d follow me anywhere. I don’t think I have to worry about you ever leaving me,” He joked softly as we walked into the castle grounds.

“I suppose not,” I smiled at the ground.

“Y/n,” Draco paused, the mood shifting to something more serious and downcast. “You’re... you’re gonna hear somethings about me and... they’re not going to be good,” I pondered his words for a moment.

“You flew halfway around the world to find me, and you helped me get back on my feet, that’s good enough for me,” I smiled softly.

Draco pursed his lips and took a deep breath, still looking despondent about the situation.

“Draco,” I called softly. His grey eyes met mine. “I’d never have followed you onto that plane if I didn’t trust you,”

Deciding that he didn’t have an argument to that that he deemed should be voiced, he led me deeper into the grand castle and it took everything in me not to stop and stare at just about everything.

“You went to school here?” I squeaked. A smile parted his lips.

“Yes... you should have too,” He seemed to realize the injustice.

“We can’t change that now,” I comforted.

Magnificent doors parted the two of us from the entire school and quite a few wizard officials according to Draco. I stared at the intricate detailed work of the doors. If I wasn’t so nervous, I could have spent the entire day staring at these doors alone.

But there was something to be done.

The doors opened and the entire hall fell into a pin drop silence. I grabbed Draco’s hand without thinking for the comfort and support. He squeezed mine reassuringly as we began out steps forward to the front, where older, authoritative looking wizards stood.

“Death Eater,” A student hissed.

“Traitor,”

“Scum,”

“You don’t belong here,”

“Slytherin,”

My eyes glanced up to Draco, who had a mask of no emotion, but I could see the stress in the clenching of his jaw and tightening of his eyes. It was subtle but it was still there. This time I gave his hand a squeeze of reassurance and glared down the crowd, who immediately went quiet. There was not a menacing whisper to be heard.

At the front of the Great Hall there were three wizards who stood out among the rest. They were younger, but still assured of themselves as they stepped forward towards us. A boy with fiery red hair holding hands with a girl who had a glare that I was proud of and beside them a boy with a mess of black hair and piercing green eyes.

“Potter,” Draco’s eyes narrowed as he stood a bit taller.

“Malfoy,” There was the same distain in the supposed savior of the wizarding world’s tone.

I snorted, drawing both of their attention.

“What are you? Five?” I crossed my arms. “Y/n, nice to meet you,” I held my hand out for Harry to shake.

“I still can’t leave you two alone for five minutes,” A new voice sighed, stepping forward. “I hope they haven’t caused you too much trouble, child. I’m Professor McGonagall, headmaster of Hogwarts,”

“Y/n,” I gave again. “Supposed heiress to Gryffindor,”

“Yes,” She smiled. “I can see it in your eyes,”

Harry scoffed, sulking mildly. I looked over to him, then to Draco, confused and amused.

“I must apologize for the deceit in my letter.” McGonagall continued paying no mind to the interaction between Harry and me. “I feared that it was the only way to get you to come,” Her kind blue eyes held mine.

“I understand,” My smile was light. “In fact, if it wasn’t for Draco, I’m not sure I would have found my way here,”

“He used you!” Harry argued. “He wanted to clear his name so of course he helped you! You think he’d be a decent person if there wasn’t something in it for him!”

“That’s enough of that Mr. Potter!” McGonagall scolded. “Mr. Malfoy aided the heir of your house here from America unprovoked and I will not have you accuse him of such things,”

“If she trusted Malfoy there’s no way that she could ever be a Gryffindor. She doesn’t belong here,” Harry’s words were as cold as ice.

The malice and hatred in his voice and eyes was a fatal blow to my heart and confidence. Harry was right. I didn’t belong here. I looked around to the lavish hall and all of the students and wizard officials who had years of training and practice and grew up knowing who they were... this wasn’t where I belonged.

“How dare you,” Draco snarled, taking a step forward to shield me from Harry’s further words, but they had already hit their mark.

Their bickering silenced, but the tensions were high. Not that I noticed, I was too wrapped up in my negative thoughts.

“Come child,” McGonagall beckoned.

“Give me a minute,” I requested softly.

“We really need—”

“I said in a minute!” My raised voice shocked Draco and McGonagall. There was almost fear in their eyes. Harry still held the same hatred for me in his stare, now smug as if I proved his point.

It was enough to cause me to run.

Never being in a castle before in my life let alone a magic one, I was lost before I took my third turn. Tears streaming down my face, I never felt more alone. I found myself in a small courtyard with a lone old oak tree.

As I did when I was younger, I began to climb high into the branches, looking for an escape from the world below me. But there weren’t branches high enough this time. Resting on a high branch I leaned against the trunk, I let myself cry. The passage of time was hard to tell as the sun sank and the stars came out to play. It might have been an hour or two. I didn’t know and I was too miserable to care.

I didn’t belong here, and I wasn’t wanted here. Moments before I was only thinking that I didn’t care what they thought about Draco. I never imagined that there would be doubt and uncertainty about me.

I heard footsteps coming into the courtyard.

“Go away Draco,” I warned, pausing when I saw that it wasn’t Draco, but instead McGonagall. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“I know who you thought I was,” She peered up at me through the branches. “Merlin’s sake what are you doing in a tree?” I heard the sternness in her voice, but I couldn’t help but here the amusement underneath.

“Hiding,” I offered sheepishly.

“Well come down from there,” She ordered.

I made my way down with ease. Dropping to the ground from a higher branch than I could have, I knew that I startled the headmaster. I gave a polite hesitant smile.

“What do they teach you in America,” McGonagall pursed her lips, an undeniable hint of mischief in her eye.

“I’m... really sorry professor,” I sighed. “I know I’m not what anyone thought. And I know I don’t belong here. I’m sorry I ever...”

“Never mind all that,” She cut me off. “Who are you, child?”

“I... I was hoping that you could tell me,” I glanced down, fidgeting, and straightening my robe.

“My dear, I’m old, and I’m tired of being conned and tricked.” She began.

“I don’t want to trick anyone,” I said earnestly.

“And I’m sure owning this castle means nothing to you either?” A silence passed between us.

“I just want to know who I am,” I finally spoke. “Whether or not I belong to a family, if I’m someone like you,” I sat on the stone bench that was to the side. “Draco said that Hogwarts was like home to him... a family,” Tears stung my eyes. “I never had a home, a family...”

McGonagall sat beside me, placing her hand over mine.

“Heir or not, you will always have a home here at Hogwarts. It is a safe haven to all witches and wizards who wish to remain,” She assured me. “And I am the one that must apologize. Mr. Potter is very hotheaded, a negative attribute to Gryffindors I’m afraid,” A smile played at her lips. “But... if Draco followed you to America and brought you here, I have no doubt that you are the heir.” I smiled down at my hands. “I see the way he looks at you,”

“I’ve never met anyone like him before,” I confessed.

“Then you are very special,” She stood. “Now come, you have a title to claim and a sword that belongs to you,”

“I get a sword?” My excitement grew as I followed her. McGonagall merely laughed and led me back through the castle.

Draco, who was anxiously pacing outside of the Great Hall, caught sight of us. He rushed over to me, looking me over before pulling me into a hug, before remembering himself.

“I’m so sorry,” He insisted. “This is my fault. Harry and I never got along, and as soon as I walked in there with you, I pinned you as a rival to him,” He cupped my face softly. “I’m so sorry,” He repeated.

Nodding, I gave him a smile.

“You destiny awaits inside my dear,” McGonagall motioned toward the entrance to the hall.

The second time I walked down the aisle of students, I no longer had the confidence I had before. Except, Draco’s hand in mine gave me the courage to keep going. Except this time, Harry’s malice was not the force holding me back.

As Draco and I were halfway across the room, a great darkness flooded the hall. Disquieted whispers of fear were exchanged among the students and official wizards.

“No other heir will take the throne,” A cruel voice hissed, that I had only heard once before, in a dream. I grabbed Draco’s hand. “No heir but Slytherin,”

I looked to Draco, trying to find what to do next in his eyes. He was just as uncertain as I was. Then something sparked in his eyes.

“The sword Y/n!” Draco urged. “Take the sword and claim your throne!”

“But how is that—”

“Just go!” He ordered drawing his wand and leaving little room for argument.

The darkness hung heavier in the room. Shedding my stuffy robes, I was free to run in nothing more than jeans and a sweater to the podium where the sword lay.

“Don’t touch that sword!” The voice hissed. “Or your lover here dies!”

I turned to see Draco almost entirely consumed by a thick black smoke, struggling for air.

“Don’t hurt him!” I screeched, pausing on my ascent toward the sword.

Hundreds of wizards and witches watched us with bated breath, warned by McGonagall to stay back. I could see the fear and fury in their gazes.

“Don’t hurt him,” I begged, taking a step away from the podium.

“Y/n, don’t—don’t worry about me,” Draco gasped out.

“You’ll die,” I argued weakly. “You can’t leave me! You promised!”

“I know,” He choked out. “Just trust me. It’s magic,” The sparkle of mischief in his eyes gave me the courage I needed to ignore the threatening evil voice and walked up to the sword for the third time since I arrived.

“No past... no parents...no home...” I muttered, looking at the sword. “But you won’t take my future!”

I gripped the sword handle and held it high above my head, watching as the Great Hall was bathed in golden light. Every person in the room stared at me, before bowing. I didn’t care. My eyes held onto one person.

The dark cloud has nowhere to run, it was vaporized. Draco fell to the ground gasping for air. I dropped the sword to the ground, hearing it clatter somewhere behind me as I rushed to Draco’s side.

“My god, Draco!” I worried over him, holding him close. “Don’t you ever do that again!” He coughed out a laugh and his arms weakly embraced me.

“Y/n, sweetheart, I don’t think now is the right time. You can yell at me later,” He nodded to the faces in awe that stared at me.

I scrambled to my feet, helping Draco up.

“All hail the Gryffindor Heiress and the Slytherin Prince!” McGonagall proclaimed with a clear voice. A loud cheer went up in the Hall that had me blushing and nearly clinging to Draco.

McGonagall came over to me, offering me the sword that laid in her outstretched hands. “I do believe this belongs to you,” She smiled.

I took the sword, and though the light wasn’t as great as it had been moments before, there was a golden shine to the silver metal. I held it up, examining it. A word burned into the metal, in a golden script.

Virtus

I smiled at the word. Glancing up at Draco, and the adoration in his grey eyes, the sword was soon forgotten from my attention.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Hello,” He smiled.

“So... I’m the Heir,” I offered, nervous for a new reason.

“I see that,”

“Draco?”

“Yes?”

“I... I, uh,”

“I know.” Draco smiled, “I fancy you too,”

I laughed despite myself at his British vernacular. Of which I had to quickly explain because of the hurt look on his face. Rolling his eyes, he pulled me close, causing me to look up at him. I met curious warm grey eyes that held the secrets of a world. I smiled.

Draco leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, cradling my face with the utmost care as he kissed me. Another cheer went up causing me to laugh and forcing me away from his kiss.

“I love you,” He mended, whispering for just us to hear.

“I love you too,”

Then he pressed his lips to mine once more not caring if the world was burning or celebrating around us.

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