#and therefore make an effort to consciously act as though you care how they feel

[nyanggk]

FIRST CARESS: THE HIGH PRIESTS — s.jy & l.hs

PAIRINGS sub!priest!jake x succubus!dom!reader! x sub!priest!heeseung

IDOLS FEATURED ENHYPEN jay, jake, heeseung

SYNOPSIS For a succubus, purity is something to be ashamed of. People naturally lust and it's the very reason why demons like you have come to surface and now, you're about to show this town's priests' that no one can resist the temptation to sin.

GENRE smut with plot, supernatural, medieval au, demon au

WARNINGS explicit sexual content; non-con that turns into dub-con, threesome, dom/sub dynamics, corruption kink, oral sex, cock stepping, footjob, handjob, making, mouth/face fucking, both boys are under the influence

mocking/disregard for christian belief, sex with a demon, both boys slip in and out of consciousness

wc. 13k

n. although this is a given, this fic is made under the impression to satisfy readers only. this is in no way shape or form a statement of what someone should do in real life nor do I support these kinds of actions (non-con) and I suggest that everyone reads all the warnings carefully. thank you also to jinnie (@heeseongism) for the concept ♡

As a demon who feeds on humans' sexual desires, should innocence be something to be proud of?

Man would associate innocence with purity, while those who dwell into their lustful desires would be damned as tainted and therefore, shunned by society. Innocence is a bar that man themselves have set impossibly high, making it impossible for even the most devoted worshiper to reach. It seems as if even man have set themselves up to fail, and yet, despite this known unreachable standard, they pay no heed and continue to preach for someone perfect.

Supposedly, purity is the standard for both men and women— though it seems as if the rule is only strongly implemented towards the latter. They say that if you're pure, that means you are just, meaning you are closer to God on a spiritual level.

Over the course of numerous millenniums, man would continue to struggle to meet this ideal, not realizing that it isn't something that could be achieved. We're raised by our parents to be caring, kind, and untainted while they remain the opposite. It's quite the contrast, really. Those who have breaded due to their uncontainable want for intercourse, are those who set impending rules to keep their child from sinning. However, despite their best efforts to raise a child without blotches, the holy one above tests their fate relentlessly on end by sending them challenges, and you're one of them.

Having already reached your adult form as a succubus, otherwise a demon of sex and lust, ten years ago, you’ve gathered sufficient knowledge when it comes to the art of hunting down your prey. Some would argue that you’re a master at what you do; you know how to act, what draws them in, what they’re most tempted to do, and how much of them you can take in order for them to continue living and for you to quench your thirst. You don’t intend to kill them, but sometimes, it just can’t be helped when you're at the brink of death due to hunger.

It’s you over anyone else, and really, what’s so bad about having a fuckton of sex?

"God!" The boy beneath you screams out in pleasure when you bring yourself down ruthlessly, letting your cunt suck the whole length of his dick. 

It almost makes you cackle at how ironic that word is when applied to your situation. You're a succubus, a demon who feeds on lust, yet here he is, screaming for God like you aren't giving him the time of his life. You want to slap the soul out of his body. How dare he preach for God when you're riding his dick better than any angel can? It's quite disrespectful if you're being honest, however, you choose not to say anything, knowing that if this town finds out you're anything but human, you're going to be tied up and beheaded.

It's been quite long since you've last conducted a feeding session, and your mana feels like it's getting drained and replenished with each strong bounce you make on his lap, along with the pleasure his dick feels rubbing against your g-spot. Usually, you'd have no problem doing everything, as it allows you to satisfy yourself without having to wait for your food to learn what you like, but with your mana drained, a light sheen of sweat is seeping against your skin. The boy doesn't mind though; if he's being honest, it makes you all the more hotter in his eyes.

"Aww, Jay," You coo while dragging your nails down his broad and sweaty chest in a teasing manner, sending the boy into a deeper frenzy as goosebumps rise on his olive skin as he watches streaks of red appear on his skin. "Too good?"

The said boy releases a whimper when he feels your pussy clench down on his whole length, prodding him to answer. "Yes, shit! You take me so well. "You're too good." He manages to blurt out before squeezing his eyes shut and his head falling back onto the mattress like he's lost all control over his body—which is true.

Never in Jay's life did he think that any girl could take his whole length inside their mound. Everyone always struggled to even get more than half of him in, and yet, here you are, doing the impossible. He met you at a sketchy alleyway on his way home from work selling fruits at the marketplace. Truthfully, it seemed as if you came out of nowhere because the moment his eyes turned to look elsewhere, your figure leaning against the concrete was there to greet him. He remembers the way his eyes just never seemed to stop raking over your body and how every curve and dip made him want more. It was as if he was being put into a trance because he just couldn't take his eyes off of you, completely ignoring his family that awaits him in their small, run-down cottage hidden in the woods.

Sooner or later, you approach him, making sure to jut your hips with every step towards him, the scent of your arousal filling Jay's nose from a meter away. Jay breaks out of his trance when he realizes that you're grinning at him, clumsily introducing himself to you, and then the rest has brought you to where you are now.

Your insides just feel amazing, like it was made just for him and his dick alone— it isn't. He swore when he first thrusted his dick inside you a few hours ago, that he would come on the spot. There's just something different about the way you move, the way you feel, and the way you talk that makes it seem as if your whole body was made for him. His wife could never satisfy him the way you do and it's not her fault. She doesn't know her husband is a cheat with a huge dick that can hardly fit inside a human's vagina without it hitting their womb.

And yes, "a few hours ago," meaning that ever since the two of you met, you've been going at it like rabbits in heat. You have no idea where the sudden drive to feed came from, as usually, a minute of sex would do to quench your thirst however, today, you've been craving more and sadly, Jay's having a hard time at giving it to you.

"I'm— ahh, fuck!" Jay's whole body seems to shake as he gives you his fourth climax. His throat has now grown sore and dry from all of the screaming, groaning, and moaning he's done in the past few hours and to be frank, he's already reaching his limit. So, when you tilt your head to the side and start bouncing on his length once again, he screams in protest as he digs his fingers onto your hips to stop your actions. "You're a fucking demon." 

You only laugh at his joke, finding it humorous given how ironic it is. "Maybe I am." You smirk.

Copying your actions, Jay chuckles before shaking his head. "I really can't keep going, babe." He announces. "I'm gonna pass out."

"I'm not stopping until I get what I want."

And that's just what you did, except you may have sucked all the life force out of the poor boy.

Shame, he would've made an adorable pet.

Though you've already taken all of what he had, you were still starving, craving for more because one isn't enough; you need more.

If God is the creator of everything, then does that mean that he made your kind? To what? Test man's dedication and beliefs? If so, then his children are failing.

Walking past the small wooden entrance of the church, the loud clicks of your boots' heels echo every time they meet the hard marble floor. Looking up, you're greeted with the intricate paintings of Jesus and his becoming, while multiple sacred statues said to be made in the likeness of God and saints adorn every crevice of this holy place.

You can only release a small chuckle as you realize how sardonic all of this is. Above all the places you could've picked for your hunt, you just had to pick a church. What can you say? This place is rumored to have gorgeous looking pastors, and you're not one to turn down a delicious meal.

A figure cloaked in white hidden poorly inside the small confession booth catches your eye, and you can't help but grin in excitement as your eye turns a darker shade of lust. Even from afar, you can hear the testosterone in his veins, how pure the boy is, and how his body has been begging for release. You had a hunch that church boys would soothe your hunger better than anything else, and you were correct.

Calmly, you make your way towards the entrance of the booth, hunching down and sitting on the hard wooden seat right after. Thankfully, there aren't a lot of people inside. In fact, the cathedral seemed to be nearly empty— save for the few who were praying and the staff. So, you ignore how uncomfortable it is, how clogged the room is, and instead, divert your full focus onto the man that sat behind the wooden walls, separating the both of you.

"Hello, father." You greet with your head bowed down to conceal your smirk. You can vaguely make out the man's face from where you sat, the small holes carved onto the wall doing less than to hide his handsome front.

"Hello," You can almost hear the smile on his face, and this only makes your grin grow wider in return. You have no idea how, but his voice lets something inside you grow. Your desire for feeding is rising tenfold, and you have no idea for how long you'll be able to keep your lust at bay. The mere thought of having someone as pure as him sends your mind into a frenzy, as you can only imagine how delicious this boy will taste once he's under your control. The tone of his voice is so satisfying that it even makes your cunt water as it awaits his penetration. You can't wait to have him between your legs, and your mouth is already watering at the thought of having to taste his arousal. Your only option is to calm yourself down just for a little bit, not wanting to feel yourself grow sticky before you've even lulled your prey.

"What brings you here today?"

"I'm afraid I've committed a sin, Father." You say, your voice feigning sadness and shame.

"That's alright. The reason you've come here is to seek forgiveness and repent. Even that alone takes courage and you're admirable for that." You hear him say. His words only make you chuckle as you give absolutely no shits whether or not God forgave you or not, he's not yours to worship, and neither is God his. You think he should be worshiping you. "What is it that you did?"

Instead of answering his question, you throw one back at him. "What's your name, Father?" You ask, voice sounding dark while you lure him in. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

With the silence that takes over, you can tell that he's taken aback by your question because, honestly, who wouldn't? The purpose of this wall separating the both of you is to hide your identity, to make you feel less ashamed to confess your crimes and feelings because your persona isn't seen. Even if the two of you were to cross paths outside, he wouldn't be able to know it's you. So, although perplexed, he answers because, well, why shouldn't he?

"I'm Pastor Jake." He answers, tone sounding somewhat proud, and you can't help but coo when you notice him rocking in his seat between the gaps of the divider.

All you do is hum in acknowledgement, afterwards telling him your name. Your mind tries to form a plan in order to lure your prey towards somewhere more suitable for feeding, somewhere you can touch him without the worry of anyone finding out you're a demon.

"Father," You call out to him, raising your tone as you let your scent flood his nostrils. "Do you mind telling me about yourself first? I'm still kind of nervous."

You hear the boy stutter in his movements, no doubt due to the charm your aura is exuding. Nonetheless, he tries to recover by clearing his throat, answering your question right after. "Well…" He trails off in thought with a chuckle. "I'm actually quite nervous myself too, if I'm being honest."

At that, you make a sound of feigned amazement. Crossing your legs as you prompt your chin on the palm of your hands, you ask, "How so, father?"

Whatever he says next, you tune out. You swear it was something about it today being his first day appointed as a priest, but then again, you could be wrong. However, you're too busy looking around the place, hoping to find somewhere private to even care.

Your mouth is practically watering because of the scent he exudes. The smell of purity in his body lets your hunger grow, becoming more impatient to feed the more you hear the way he talks. He's the type of boy his parents would be proud of. He's the model apprentice that everyone aspires to be. Though, you know for a fact that he's certainly not enough to make your stomach full, but surely, his innocence has to count for something. You're soon going to lose control over everything, and your true form is going to reveal itself, the mana in your body proving to be insufficient as you feel it drain in half if you don't find a feeding place sooner.

The sudden noise of someone clearing their throat pulls you out of your thoughts, and you realize then that it was him who did it. And so, doing the same to compose yourself, you pull yourself together and begin your act once you've finally found a chamber used as a storage room that is accessible for the two of you. "Father, I don't think I can confess my sins here."

Silence arises between the both of you, and you're tense as you await a reaction. Assuming that he's going to let you continue, you tug. "Is there anything I can do to help? I'm not forcing you to confess, and you can always take your time."

How sweet.

How is it possible for a human to be so innocent and caring? You're almost saddened by the fact that you have to ruin him. It's a shame his God couldn't protect him from the likes of you.

"Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?" You ask, trying to segue the conversation to where you can lure him.

"U-Uhm… I'm not sure if it's okay—" He mumbles but you cut him off.

"I don't mind you seeing my face. I'm just not comfortable telling you here." You reason it out, hoping for him to be dumb enough to take the bait. "Can we go somewhere more secluded?"

He's conflicted. Realizing you're not the normal town folk he always sees entering the church, he wants to leave a good impression— especially since it's his first day of service. His town is small, everyone knows each other. Thus, he wants to be known as a priest that everyone can feel comfortable confiding in. So, wanting to be just that, he accepts your offer, letting you lead him towards the storage room, unbeknownst to your true intentions and form.

The two of you are about to reach your safe haven for the day when another person's voice abruptly makes the two of you stop. Your back is turned towards the person as you clench your jaw at having been stopped, and you don't make a move to turn, wanting to hide your face from the other.

"Jake?" You hear a man's voice say "Where are the two of you going? The mass is about to start."

Innocently, Pastor Jake just shrugged. "Everything is fine. I'll be there, don't worry."

And with that, you make quick steps in order to drag the boy farther away from the crowd. Once both of you were inside, you intentionally left the door unlocked, savoring the possibility of someone walking in and joining the two of you. 

You walk over to him after doing so, placing yourself so close that he can feel your breath hitting his face. 

He's a bit taken aback by your sudden movements; however, he doesn't peep a protest but stutters back in order to give the two of you some space.

Your meal is a beautiful sight to see. Your senses weren't wrong when it told you that the man behind the border was handsome. His hair is a beautiful shade of midnight black and it falls so naturally across his chiseled face. His eyes are wide and puppy-like and it's no surprise to you when you notice the upwards hook at the edges of his mouth, making him look like an adorable pet. Unlike the usual priests you've seen across the other towns, you really have to praise this one for having such young and youthful looking priests as they serve to be the most flavourful dishes. Not long has passed yet you're becoming weaker by the second and you can feel your composure dissipating as you imagine the future events that are about to happen once you put him under control.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you let your tail reveal itself, both because you wanted to conserve your remaining mana and because you yearn to see the look on his face once he finds out what you're going to do to him.

"Jake…" You call out his name without the title, releasing a chuckle after seeing the shocked look on his face as his mouth hangs open at the sight of your raven black tail swishing excitedly. 

"Father, I've been starving." You say, voice sounding too alluring for Jake to keep his mind straight as the scent of your charm floods through his senses once again. Only this time, it makes him weaker as his body submits itself to your orders.

Feeling his knees start to buckle, he falls on the cold marbled floor with a soft thud. "W-What is happening to me?" He asks in a fit of desperation when he realizes he's unable to will his limbs to move.

The desperate and helpless look oozing inside his puppy dog eyes sets your body on fire. Your tail keeps swishing from behind you in glee as your horns slowly reveal themselves, sitting comfortably on the crown of your head.

"Y-You're a demon…" He concludes, words sounding awfully slurred as his eyes turn hooded with lust.

Smirking, you reply, "You just noticed?"

Come to think of it, he should've known that you were different from the start; your natural scent just seemed to stand out above everything else, the way the tone of your voice made him shiver, and the way you had no interest in anything other than yourself were clear signs. But in the end, how was he supposed to know that you were a creature that's out of this world?

Yes, the Bible talks about them, but, poor Jake has never seen one in person— nevertheless, this close and this pretty. There's this thing called "blind faith" in Christianity, which means that the servants of God should believe in him despite not being able to see. He just didn't think it worked the other way around, that he should've believed that demons existed without having to have seen them in person. 

Although he's still baffled, he's aware that you're real. Although, half conscious, he knows what's going to happen next. He doesn't know what it is you clearly want from him, though. You said you were starving, so could it possibly mean that you're a vampire seeking blood? No, that's certainly not it, because if that were the case then there'd be no need for the boner that's peeking through his robes.

"Aww," You say in a high pitched voice, clearly mocking his inability. "Is the pastor begging for some pussy? I bet your dick is just begging to be touched. My, how have you survived all these years without release?"

The boy frowns at your words, wondering why you chose such vulgar things, but against his will, his dick twitches and it makes you smile.

Squatting down, you crawl your way towards his figure. When you reach him, you put your face close to his, making sure that your noses are touching, and you rub them together to feign comfort. 

Because of the close proximity, you've once again been given a chance to look at his features; how clear his skin is and how there isn't an area of imperfection. You can see the light sprinkles of brown that fall onto his cheeks, where the sun usually hits. His eyelashes are long and perfectly curled upward, and his body trembles at your touch.

Unable to wait any longer, you make him take his robes off because, although the thought of corrupting someone as pure as him with a priest's robe on makes your cunt drip, you'd rather fuck him without it. You're just dying to see how his body looks underneath all those layers of clothing. After doing so, you sit on his lap, making him lean back on his palms as you wrap your limbs around his body. 

Surprisingly, he's well built for someone who attends a book club more than the average townie, and his skin is as pure as milk. You skim your hands down from his chest, feeling and cupping each peck. Your fingers slowly rub against his nipples, and Jake's body can't help but twitch at the sensation. He'd try to pry your wandering hands off of him, but something in his body is preventing him from doing so. It feels wrong and strangely intimate, something he should be doing with someone he knows, but then again, he's unsure why it feels this good.

He watches with shaken eyes as you drag your hands from the middle of his chest and down to his lower abdomen to trace every ab he has on his stomach, and you only smile deviously as you watch how heavy his breathing has become.

You reach back and take his hands in yours, admiring the soft pink that coats his knuckles and the veins that protrude through his skin. Bringing his hand close to your mouth, you lean in and slowly lick each knuckle. You love the way he takes a deeper inhale when he feels the warm coat of your saliva coating his skin, making you smile in amusement, confidently repeating your actions.

You don't miss the thin layer of sweat arising on his skin nor do you take your eyes off of every muscle in his stomach. Looking further down on his body, you take a long pause just to look at his dick. With the effect of your charm, the boy has grown impossibly hard in mere minutes and is leaking all of himself. There's a small glob of precum right outside his hole, tempting you to lick it and so, you do. 

You get off from his lap, once again going on all fours just so you can reach the underside of his dick. You lean closer towards his balls before digging your tongue on his thick length upwards towards the tip of his dick. You make sure to suck him as hard as you can, wanting to taste more of the precum coming out of his pretty dick more than anything else.

Jake lets out a loud whimper at your actions, hands bunching your hair in an effort to pull you off of him. He's only half intoxicated with your scent, just how you wanted it. His body is under your spell and all it wants is release, however, his mind is still conscious, knowing full well what's happening. He's trying to fight it. Believe him, he is. But it's hard when your own body is fighting against you. Though, that won't last for long because you know that with the way his body is reacting so early on in your rendezvous, he's soon going to give in fully without the need to use your magic because that's how man works. Once they've gotten a taste of what it's like to feel pleasure, they'll never want to go back.

You stay on all fours as you suck the life out of him, eliciting pretty grunts from the boy as he starts to shake in his seat due to the erotic sounds you were making while taking his dick down your throat. Making sure to bob your head, you let the drool pooling inside your mouth to escape past your lips and trail down his dick, reaching his balls. 

Jake puts little to no effort into pulling you off of him, as every time he tries to pry your lips away from his dick, he has no choice but to stop and halt his movements with a loud cry, feeling you suck his dick harder than ever in defiance.

Finally, after what seemed like a full five minutes of purely sucking him inside your mouth, you release him. You let out a loud breath, letting his dick fall out of your mouth as oxygen returns to your lungs. With his hardness, Jake's dick still stands tall as it twitches every so often, waiting for more friction as he watches your eyes eye it maniacally.

You stick your tongue out for him to see the remnants of his precum clinging to your wet muscle, your saliva mixing with them. The boy lets out a small moan of pleasure, still in denial of how quickly he's growing to love your assault on his body. His eyes enlarge when he feels you wrap your hand around his dick, immediately moving to grip your wrist in a move to stop you, but his efforts are left in vain when you move your hand slowly along his length, ignoring the clutch he has on you. 

With each stroke, Jake lets out whimpers of pleasure as you introduce him to yet another form of sin. His head is thrown back in pleasure, the volume of his moans heightening when he feels you rub him faster.

"Is it okay, Jake?" You ask, hand still moving at the same fast pace as it was before.

Jake is too busy whimpering as he looks at the way your hand moves up and down across his whole length with teary eyes, too dumb to comprehend what you just said. He's gasping every so often, making sure not to let himself get too loud and scream.

When you notice he isn't going to reply, you spit out a thick glob of saliva onto the tip of his dick and start jerking him off faster. Smiling, dubiously, you tsk out, "I asked you a question, father. Don't ignore me."

At the sudden change of pace, Jake lets out a loud cry. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his head gets thrown back, letting you see the way his Adam's apple moves as he gulps. "No! I— S-Stop… please."

Offended, you take your hands off of him and stand up to leave. When he feels your hands and warmth escape him, his eyes bulge at the loss of contact before desperately searching for you across the room.

His eyes are still in a daze, his body buzzing so loudly that he can feel his ears start to sting. When his eyes finally regain some consciousness, he looks for you and finds you lazily leaning against an empty table. His eyes turn into those adorable dog-like eyes that you were talking about earlier, and you might be wrong, but it seems as if they're begging for you to come back and touch him.

"Please…" He squeaks out in a shy tone, peeking at you through his eyelashes, and you resist the urge to cradle his head to your chest and treat him like a baby.

You're no sadist. You want to turn this man around and make him beg to be your dog. Make him realize what he's been missing, and at this point, you're just too in love with the way his sweat covered chest rises every time he takes a breath to compose himself and the pleasure filled look on his face when you were pumping his dick with your hand for you to let him go so easily.

Greedily, and feeling your patience running thin, you motion for him to come to you, and he does so, stumbling and clumsily staggering towards you. Once he does, you lean in and attach your lips to his neck, unable to contain the desire to mark your new territory. You wrap your hands around his waist, pulling his body flush against yours. His boner pokes against your inner thighs, and all you want to do is take him in already, but even though you're feeling desperate, you want him to break first, or else your ego wouldn't allow it.

"I—" Jake says before cutting himself off with a grunt once he feels you suck on the base of his neck harder. 

"Hmm?" You reply, humming against the part of his neck where his shoulder and throat connects which causes a mode of vibrations to shoot through his body. As you do so, you take your hand and place it back on his dick, feeling him sigh from above you once he feels the pleasure coming back.

Endless shots of tingles overtake him and though he wants to say something, he can't because the combined movements of your hand pumping his dick and the open-mouthed kisses you leave across his neck is making his mind grow fuzzy, rendering him unable to speak.

Noticing this, you decide to take pity on him and to show him how merciful you can be. You tone down your movements to a more leisure pace and you automatically feel his body relax, no longer on the run to chase his orgasm.

Jake shivers when he feels your hot breath fanning his ear and he can't contain the moan that he lets out when he feels you bite on the shell.

"Speak." He hears what you say, but even though your hand has slowed down its movement on his dick, he still can't form a sentence because now, he doesn't even remember what he wanted to say in the first place. 

Oh, you're messing with him. He can tell your whole being in itself is messing with his mind all together and you're doing a damn good job at it. Just thinking about your pretty red lips wrapped around the whole of his dick sets his mind into a frenzy.

Looking up, he hopes that God will forgive him for the sinful act he's committing, knowing full well that having intercourse out of wedlock is a vital sin in itself. But he's taken away once he hears you laugh at him as you shake your head, finding him entertaining, and only then does he notice that he's said his apologies out loud.

All of a sudden, his mind seems to have retaken its consciousness as his cheeks erupt in flame. All he can do is condemn you in his mind for giving him his conciseness back at the worst timing possible, and this time, he makes sure to say it in his mind and not aloud.

In your defense, he wanted to say something. That's why you gave him the privilege of thinking coherently again.

Now, all Jake wants to do is hide himself, but he can't. Not when he's caged by your arms around his waist. He knows his confession should be the last thing he should be worried about. You're literally stroking his hardened cock in your hands while his clothes are disregarded somewhere inside the room, so clearly, he has more things to be embarrassed about. But Jake's mind is getting fuzzy again. Though you've given him the freedom to take action, he's at a loss. With your charm or not, he has somewhat fallen for your game, and with the lustful look you're giving him while you patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts, it's only a matter of time before he loses all control.

"W-What are you?" He squeaks out again like last time just for the sake of talking to you, eyes down at you shyly.

"My poor Jake," You coo, cradling his face in the palm of your hand. "You really are the most innocent thing I've ever seen. I can just eat you whole."

At that, Jake's eyes widen, fear swimming within those pretty doe eyes. He freezes in his spot as his whole body tenses when he hears your laugh echo all throughout the room. It's scary and there's a part of him that knows your words have a possibility of becoming his reality.

Though he's scared of you, there's another part inside him that's egging him on— a part that wants you to kneel down and take his dick inside your mouth again. He thinks it's you, thinks that it's your charm affecting him. However, like you've said, it's been a long time since you clouded his mind, so really, he's just being a massive pervert. But he doesn't need to know that. You'll let him entertain his thoughts and watch him crumble beneath you while still being in denial because you live to see the conflict in a man's eyes.

"D-Do you really… mean that?" He squeaks out, his voice sounding so small as his lips rest in a pout.

"Hmm," You contemplate, and from Jake's point of view, he's at a loss for words because he just doesn't know what to expect from you. You're something out of this world, and it's impossible for a mere human like him to predict your motives. "Do you believe in demons, father? Demons of Lust to be exact."

Gosh, he should've known, if angels existed, so should you. All his life, he prayed for the guidance of angels and saints. If only he knew that all of them were wasted in vain. That just when he thought that he had come one step closer to being a better servant of God, he's here kneeling before a demon who feeds on humans' sexual desires.

Seeing the mortified look on the boy's face, you scoff in amusement. "Did you really think holy water could keep me away from you? May you bathe in a gallon or drink it whole, I will still be able to touch you," You say in a menacing tone. You grip his locks in your hand, forcing him to straighten and meet your eyes. "Consume you at most."

You can feel Jake's body start trembling, and you can only bite your tongue for your stupidity. You didn't intend to scare him with facts, so you take the liberty and tuck his face into your neck, telling him to take a deep breath so that your scent can cloud his mind once again. Immediately, his body starts to relax, and his mouth opens wide to get more of the air mixed with you inside his body. You let him repeat the same actions for minutes, letting him calm himself down, and to your surprise, you felt him start placing open mouth kisses on your neck soon after.

Jake's plush lips against your neck, mixed with the airy moans he's letting out while you caress his head, make Jake hum in delight, mouth still pressed against the side of your neck.

"So… pretty." He looks at the skin with clouded eyes, cock twitching when he looks at the saliva that coats the skin that he had just kissed and sucked. You can't help but hum in satisfaction as you feel the boy start grinding his boner against your thigh, and you let him do whatever he wants. His dick is painfully hard against your skin, and knowing that he's now under your control, your hole starts begging again. 

His hips rock against your thigh, and you feel him pick up the pace as time goes by— probably getting a feel of his orgasm. The volume of Jake's moans starts to heighten, and you let him use your thigh as a surface to get off on, humming every now and then whenever he looks at you with eyes that seemed as if he was begging, pleading for any sort of validation and climax.

"I- I… Something's—" He says, cutting himself off when a particular thrust becomes a little too pleasurable. "I… Should I keep going? I feel like… I'm going to— to pee myself."

Fuck

Of course, he doesn’t know what an orgasm is. He’s an innocent boy. How can he know such a sinful thing?

The boy has probably never experienced dick relief in his entire life and has probably woken up in the middle of the night with a wet patch in his boxers. Did he think he peed himself? That’s so adorable. However, there’s not a doubt in your body that the boy oozes sex appeal without even having any sort of experience in the field.

He has probably never masturbated in his life, has he? This is probably his first time humping anything, and the thought alone makes you swoon.

Cooing, you pat the top of his head to show your affection, pouting in mockery due to how innocent and cute the boy is. 

You bunch up his hair in your hands, and seeing him look at you with hooded eyes turns you wicked. His mouth is open, moans easily, spilling out now that his orgasm is nearing. "Let go, Jake. Be a good whore and show me how you look when you cum untouched." You spit out.

Jake audibly gasps when you call him such a name, looking as if he’s been betrayed. You’re treating him with so much care, letting him hump your thigh while you pat his head and yet, you call him a whore?

He’s not a whore. Jake never sleeps around. Hell, Jake has never kissed anyone but his mother, let alone touch a woman like this before. Well, technically, you aren’t a woman woman. You’re a demon. Not human, but still a woman at best, so he’ll count it. Well, not that he’s proud of it— is he? 

Why would you call him one? Though he wants to appeal and tell you that he isn't, Jake doesn't get a chance to because just when he was about to peak his orgasm, he suddenly freezes, hearing the door open.

"Hello? Ja—" Standing by the door you’ve purposely left unlocked is a boy wearing the same clothes as Jake. There, he stands frozen at the scene of you and Jake in the corner of the room. 

Jake’s back is facing him, giving the stunned boy a nice view of his exposed ass while in between the legs of a woman who has horns on her head and a tail swishing behind her. It’s really an odd sight. Even without the extra anatomy added onto you, it would still be strange, not to mention inappropriate — especially inside a church, a place where they’re supposed to give themselves to Christ. Yet, here the two of you are, having sexual intercourse beside a statue of St. Nicholas— the two of you didn’t notice that, though.

Embarrassed, Jake dives into your neck and hides while his body presses against yours as if he thinks he can mold into you and magically disappear.  

"J-Jake? What is…" The boy doesn’t get to utter another word, as before he could even finish his question, you're already darting out a hand, expressing your charm, and letting the boy in question fall under your spell. Jake watches as his friend falls into a dazed trance, half wondering if that's what he looks like right now even though he has stayed somewhat conscious thanks to you, and half not giving a damn.

"Who’s that, Jake?" You whisper at the back of his ear. Your breath tickles him, which results in him cringing further into your body. Cutely, he whines, still embarrassed at being caught. 

"That’s Heeseung Hyung." He answers, mumbling against you. "He’s another newly appointed priest, like me."

Oh

Oh

So, you will be able to fully quench your thirst after such a long time of waiting.

With the fantastic turn of events, you motion for Heeseung to come near both of you. As Heeseung strides towards the both of you, you take Jake's face out of his comfort zone— your neck, as you pull him in for a messy kiss. 

It looks rushed and dirty, but you won't have it any other way. From an onlooker's point of view, it looked as if you were trying to eat his face whole with the way your tongue is digging down his throat and how you're sucking so violently on his bottom lip. Your hand crawls down from his waist and all the way down towards the plush skin of his ass, palming and kneading the flesh as you push them into you, guiding them to press onto your clothed vagina. 

Jake releases a loud moan into your mouth when he feels your soaked heat, and his mouth opens ajar from the pleasure the mere act of pressing his dick against you gives. Nevertheless, you don't stop your actions and continue to suck on his swollen lips.

Eyeing the boy, Heeseung, with hooded eyes as you continue to feel up Jake's body, you watch as his doll-like eyes begin to cloud even hazier with lust, just like his friend. You're going to have a field day with this town's priests. Where the fuck do they get them? They're all so fucking hot. So, you wonder why they would waste their beauty serving God and not you at some old, run-down shithole?

Never mind that. You can take matters into your own hands. They were born into this belief which means it's easier to sway them, and show them what it feels like to live freely without any bounds.

Sex is amazing, and lust isn't a sin; it's a fucking blessing.

Already, you're in love with Heeseung's eyes. His eyes portray every emotion so vividly. You can see the longing in his eyes as he watches his friend get the majority of your attention, and you can see how he's silently begging for you to order him around.

No more are the innocent priests who knew nothing but to kneel before God. Now, they kneel stark naked before you, worshiping your cunt as you order both of them to eat you out like their lives depended on it. Both of them are intoxicated, and Jake has given up in trying to regain consciousness. Besides, he knows you'll give it to him eventually if he's good. All he wants now is to please you. To hear your praises ringing through the walls.

While you instruct Jake to thrust his tongue inside and around your soaking cunt, you guide Heeseung to place himself above the other as he sucks your clit. Your legs are spread wide, both in order to accommodate the both of them and to make it easier for you to watch them go crazy over the taste of a vagina. 

The loud sound of slurping and sucking fills the walls of the storage room, both boys moaning against your pussy at your taste. You're sweet and addictive, it's otherworldly. Neither of them can get enough, as they hardly even make a move to leave your cunt. They're moaning against it, and you doubt either of them would leave anytime soon. 

When Heeseung starts sucking and flicking his tongue and Jake thrusts his whole tongue inside your hole, you give them their reward in a form of praise. "The both of you are so fucking good. So innocent and pretty." You hum, swaying Heeseung's hair away from his forehead.

Suddenly, Heeseung pulls away from your grasp and Jake does the same against your vagina. Both of them looked repulsed and confused. You quirk an eyebrow at this, about to ask them what the matter was, before Jake licks his lips clean, saying, "You shouldn't cuss, Miss."

And to add to that, Heeseung says, "God will be angry at you if you say bad words like that."

For the love of Lucifer, can this scene be anymore entertaining? Two innocent men who have served God longer than they have known how to speak, kneeling before a succubus; the very being that encourages them to sin, and they're worried about you cussing.

"Don't worry about me, boys. God already despises me," You say, clicking your tongue as you cup Jake's cheeks in one hand, fingers pressing against his soft skin, making the boy pout. "And I, to him."

"But God forgives everyone, Miss!" Heeseung bursts, leaning his head against your inner thighs before placing a quick kiss against it.

"Not so sure about that. Besides, God should be the least of your worries right now." You dismiss it, already fed up with the topic.

The two look at each other innocently, both tilting their heads as if to ask the other what they should do. They're convinced that you are worthy of forgiveness, seemingly forgetting the fact that you are the reason they're committing a sin. Nonetheless, they dismiss it when neither of them answers, and you watch in delight as the two of them suck and thrust, tail swishing to show them how much you enjoy it. 

You insert two fingers in your mouth, coating them with saliva before releasing them with a loud pop. With your other hand, you grip the back of Heeseung's head, dragging him to lay on top of you on all fours while Jake takes control over your pussy. 

Once he's well situated on your stomach near your pelvis, you eye your finger, signaling for him to lean in and take it in his mouth. However, it seems as if you forgot that these two are more inexperienced than a newborn sex demon because Heeseung just eyes your fingers in wonder. 

"Well, you're just the most adorable thing on earth, aren't you, pretty boy?" You chuckle at yourself after realizing this, and you tap your fingers against his pouty lips. Picking up the signs you throw at him, Heeseung takes your fingers in his mouth, sucking and bobbing his head like how you would suck dick, nodding his head against them to show you that he agrees with your statement.

"Miss~" You hear Jake whine against your cunt before he nips at your clit to show his distaste. "I thought I was your pretty boy?"

"Fuck, Jake." You curse out after seeing Jake's chin and lips practically covered in your juices. Despite the sexual deeds that the three of you have been doing, the two still manage to look impossibly innocent, and somehow, that makes you want to ruin them more. 

From where he's sitting, Heeseung listens in on your conversation with his friend. He looks at Jake when he speaks and then back at you when he hears you curse once again. His brows knit together, and his pout is ever so evident, even when your fingers are in between his lips. "Miss!"

He's scolding you, but you're not in any way, shape, or form threatened by it. Instead, you laugh, throwing your head back as you retract your hand from Heeseung's mouth.

You sigh. "The two of you are a dream."

However, Heeseung isn't one to back down, as is Jake. Their stare at you is relentless, expecting you to apologize for using such vulgar language towards them. Neither of them can take the fact that a pretty creature like you, who's satisfying them with this new found feeling, is using such horrid words. So, now, as if they're on their last straw— they aren't— they ask you to apologize.

You roll your eyes at the two of them and scoff out a simple "Sorry." And just like clockwork, Jake goes back to work on eating you out while Heeseung leans his face close to yours, asking for a kiss. 

You let out a satisfied hum as the two of you start making out. It's slow and quite sensual— the complete opposite of what you and Jake were doing prior. This is new, and you didn't think you were going to be into it, but alas, you find out something new every day, don't you?

Hunched over as he kisses you, Heeseung's dick lays heavy and angry against your stomach, twitching from time to time as you feel beads of precum escaping his head. You reach over and grab it in your hands, slowly jerking him off. 

It takes the boy by surprise, making him gasp into the kiss in shock as he lurches forward. "W-What are you do— Ohh."

His body writhes in pleasure, and it takes him a few seconds to regain the ability to resume his kiss with you. You don't mind though; you're happy to see his reaction just by you pumping his dick at such a lazy pace.

Innocent.

So. Fucking. Innocent.

You have no idea whether you should damn their parents to heaven— since hell is your personal paradise— for making such handsome men and giving them no education when it came to sexual acts or be grateful. Just realizing how pure these two are makes a gush of arousal surge out of your vagina, and Jake is quick to lay his tongue flat against your skin and lick it up.

After a while of continuing the same agenda on repeat, you finally deem the time appropriate. Honestly, your cunt has been dripping more than it usually does during feeding— granted, some of the liquid is actually Jake's saliva. Well, it's understandable since there's two gorgeous men on top of you. 

Initially, you had wanted to prolong all of this, but your patience is running thin and your hole is literally clenching around nothing. It's only a matter of time before you're begging for one of them to put their dicks in you, but thankfully, they cave in first.

"Miss," Jake calls out, lifting his face momentarily from your vagina, only to rub his nose against your clit affectionately before murmuring a choked, "My… thing... it hurts so bad."

Hearing his friend confess gives Heeseung the courage to do the same, choking out a plea as he nods his head in agreement. Both of them look at you with those pretty eyes, and you immediately agree— not that you were going to deny them either way. 

The bambi is obedient when it comes to your orders, as when you pat Heeseung's butt, telling him to stand up so you can lift yourself off of the table, he obeys, cutely climbing off of you. Now, both of them are standing, waiting for your instructions. Both their dicks look painfully erect, twitching as they hang in the air while they watch your naked figure hop off of the table. 

You try to hide your need for the two boys as you feign it by arching your back, making it so that your chest is pressed onto the air while your butt rises, showing them your unrealistic curves. Your body, like any demon of lust, is something that's unachievable— like purity. It's an act, a tool used to bait their prey. Naturally, the more one looks at it, the further they go down the rabbit hole, hardly ever seen again until you free them from their cages.

Your body is exuding an absurd amount of your scent and charm. It intoxicated the two boys, making them hornier than they initially were. With just that, the boys are put under a lustful spell, and it's Jake who breaks composure first— not that you think Heeseung was doing any better seeing as he's eyeing his dick with curiosity, wondering why the fuck it was twitching so much. Neither of the boys could comprehend what was happening— one, because they were put under your spell, and two, because this has never happened before. 

Heeseung could remember a time when he accidentally brushed his hand against his own bulge one time when it was erect, but he was immediately caught by his father. Needless to say, Heeseung was scheduled for an endless lecture at church and a whipping from his father while he prayed the bible by the poor young boy's hunched body on the ground. But with Heeseung's mind severely clouded with lust, all he could think about was sex and relief. As Heeseung eyes his dick with wide eyes, he wonders what it is that he should do to relieve the pain that it's causing. That's when he remembers what you did to him just a while ago—the way your hands felt so good on his dick and how noise after noise brought up by pleasure formed in his throat. He wonders, will it be the same if he did it to himself? Is he allowed to?

Warily and with shaking hands, he taps his head as an experiment, causing him to suddenly jolt and whine loudly as he pouts. 

Hearing him, you quickly turn and smirk at the sight of both of them trying to get some relief without your proper guidance. They're just innocent little babies to you. Food that has somewhat turned you soft. They know jack shit about sex and they clearly know even less when it came to masturbating. So, you watch with amused eyes as Jake eventually falls to his feet and starts touching his dick but fails to get the same relief he wanted. From the looks of it, he's either squeezing too hard or too soft, and the way he's touching himself looks rather awkward. He's shaking his dick for some reason, but again, what were you expecting?

As a cocky smirk remains splattered across your lips, you make your way towards Jake's helpless figure. You place your feet on top of his whole erection, pressing a bit harder than usual just because you felt playful. 

"Aww, poor Jakey can't get rid of his boner." You say this mockingly while stepping on his dick. The action causes the boy to throw his head back with a strangled groan. His hands snap to clutch onto your ankle, but like before, you aren't fazed. Instead, you dig the soles of your feet harder into him, toes rubbing his head.

When Jake realizes that what you're doing is helping him relieve the tense feeling in his private area, the hand on your ankle that was supposedly there to pull it off begins holding it in place instead.

You grin in hilarity as you watch Jake start grinding on your feet, sighing dreamily at the sight of him raising his hips to roll it onto your heel. 

"What am I going to do to a dog like you, father?" You ask after a particularly loud moan leaves his lips. "When the townsfolk see how much of a slutty bitch their pastor is, do you think they'd laugh?"

"I-I… Uhm," He answers, feeling confused as to why the sound of you calling him by the title "father" arouses him so much. He isn't even able to complete his sentence, and he doesn't even try to remember what he had planned to say. All he can focus on is your skin on his penis and nothing else. Jakes' eyebrows knit together, his mouth still open as a whimper slips past it; however, the boy doesn't stop thrusting into your feet. He's even going as far as to rub your mid met onto the underside of his dick.

"You'd like that, won't you?" You scoff out, putting a large amount of weight onto the foot that's on Jake's cock. "Wanna make them hear how much of a slut you've turned into just for some quick relief."

The boy screams loudly, and you're sure someone from the other side of the door can hear him, but he's too far gone to care. In fact, he even nods at you in agreement. "Y-Yes!"

"Miss," You hear Heeseung call out to you with a whiny voice that resembles a child who wants attention. "Me too, please."

"I'm sorry, honey." Apologizing to him, you pull your feet away from Jake, making him sob as all the pleasure and attention he was receiving got taken away in an instant. He watches with jealous eyes as you cradle Heeseung's face in your hands before kissing his friend's pouty lips.

"Come here, Jakey."

If Jake's being honest, he doesn't know which is his favorite name to be called; Jake, or baby. In truth, the boy really doesn't mind which one you choose to use. He loves all of them. Each one elicits a different reaction from him, but ultimately, all of them make his stomach flutter. 

So, he obeys you devotedly but enviously shoves Heeseung to the side, taking his place in front of you. Jake leans into you, quickly attaching his lips to yours in need. The essence of your vagina is on every inch of his tongue, lips, and it's spread across the whole validity of his lower face. When Jake puts his tongue shyly inside your mouth, you taste yourself, and you can't help but moan. 

The boy has been eating you for minutes, and there hasn't been a single complaint thrown. You're even surprised his muscle hasn't strained, and that just proves to you how they've been on the wrong end of the spectrum their whole upbringing.

While Jake's lips stay glued to yours, your hands reach out for the other, fully knowing that he has a pout across his porcelain face for being pushed aside and neglected. You pull him towards you, and he gasps when his cock touches your wet mound. Feeling your slick walls hit a part of his dick, Heeseung can't help but beg for you to do something— anything, because at this point, his penis has been tense for so long, he feels like his testicles are about to implode. 

You've touched Jake so much, pressed your feet against him, and he's watched you kiss the boy so much, yet all you've done to him is a quick makeout session and a pump on his dick at a languid pace. He wants to come, and he wants you to give it to him.

"P-Please, Miss. I can't take it anymore!"

Halting your kiss but not pulling away entirely, smirk against Jake's lips as you eye Heeseung, who's on your side. 

"Yeah? What do you want, father?" You ask in a teasing manner, and Heeseung has to swallow the embarrassing groan in his throat upon hearing you call him that.

"My penis is hurting so much, Miss. Please do something." He says desperately before whining when he sees the way Jake is feeling your body up. "And why is he touching you like that?! I-I can do better!"

"You can?" You say with your eyebrows raised as you pull away from Jake, amused by his sudden outburst, that you can't help but chuckle.

"Yes, I-I can!"

You feel Jake scoff against your lips, and you only roll your eyes at their behavior, but there's a sense of underlying amusement for the situation at hand. You're not at all phased by their childish actions. You're actually quite impressed by how much of their personalities they're showing you. Both of them are extremely envious, and both seek attention from you constantly. You're not sure if this is how they act on a daily basis. The horniness is definitely not something ordinary, but you wonder if there's a hidden part of them that's tempted to sin. Jealousy is a dangerous thing, but it doesn't seem to be much of their concern.

"All right then." You announce, guiding Heeseung to sit on a leather-clad chair while the other stays standing behind you. 

Heeseung tries to fight it in himself to squirm and whine as he watches you sit on his lap, back facing him. Your arousal drenched cunt slides along his whole cock, covering his whole length with your juices. 

On the other hand, sitting on top of Heeseung's dick and lap lets you come face to face with Jake's hard dick. As you look up at him, you see him eyeing the small gap between the tip of his penis and your mouth, remembering the time a while ago when it was inside it. It was euphoric, and no pleasure could equal it. Seeing your mouth stuffed with his dick and you unable to speak as you mumble and hum across his whole length makes Jake's dick visibly twitch, afterwards leaking a thick streak of precum.

Your eyes follow the way it trickles down towards the underside of his dick, watching as it runs down and stains the pulsating veins against his length. Feeling your composure running thin and unable to hold yourself back, you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out, and pressing it against the base of his cock. The tip of your wet muscle presses against his balls as you hold his dick up with one hand, and when you trail your tongue across the trail of precum it left up to his sensitive head, Jake lets out a loud moan in pleasure, his breathing already turning ragged.

"You ready, boys?" A sinister smirk forms across your lips as you ask him this, momentarily looking over your shoulder. When you and Heeseung make eye contact, the boy suddenly turns shy. Heeseung bites his lips cutely, his deer-like eyes looking up at you as per usual as he nods. 

Right on cue, the church bells start ringing, signaling that the mass will soon begin. But your boys take no action to move, and somehow, this makes your chest start swelling with glee, making you feel very eager to have them inside you.

Although oblivious to the exact details of your question, Heeseung and Jake nodded nonetheless. You make quick work lining Heeseung's tip onto your salivating hole, and Heeseung's hands shakily grip your hips as he watches you sink down on his whole length in one go, his dick disappearing into your wet mound.

Unable to keep silent, Heeseung moans aloud and throws his head back when the pleasure hits him harder than a truck. Even though it's only his cock that's inside you, it feels as if his whole body is being sent into a flame, and automatically, he's getting hotter and sweatier. All he wants is for you to move, anticipating how much pleasure he'll receive, but you don't, and he's only left disappointed.

"Miss~" He whines drunkenly, his eyes closing as he pleads. "Please, move."

"My, my," You coo, body twisting so you can hook your arms across his shoulder momentarily. You lean your head close to him, bumping your nose against his pointed one as you ask him a question affectionately. "Getting impatient?"

"Yes." He answers with no hint of shyness at all.

Finding his desperation adorable, you coo, pulling Heeseung's face towards you, making your lips clash as you start moving your hips slowly on top of his dick. As a result, Heeseung starts to moan into your mouth; a gust of his breath goes inside your mouth, and you swallow it. 

"Does that feel good?" You bite Heeseung's lip as the two of you kiss, and he whimpers into your mouth, gripping your hips tighter when he feels your insides clench around his dick. "I bet it does, doesn't it?"

Heeseung groans and hums against your mouth, the way his body lurches forward doing nothing but affirming you as it makes you press your back against his wide chest further. 

While the two of you proceed to make out, Jake watches the two of you, and his mouth starts to salivate. His dick is uncontrollably moving in the air, jolting every so often when he zeroes in on the sight of Heeseung's slick coated dick being inserted in and out of your pussy. Jake can see the way it's shining with your juice, the light hitting just right for it to become visible.

Eventually, you look at Jake and watch with pity as he continues to watch in hunger while you fuck Heeseung. He isn't even making a move to touch himself like last time, just feeling too captivated by the way his friend's dick looks at the moment to care about satisfying his own body.

Continuing to move your hip at the same punishing pace, you pull away from the deer-like boy. For a moment, Heeseung chases your lips until it eventually goes far from his reach. He was about to start complaining before you take him by surprise by suddenly starting to circle your hips across his lap, and he suddenly throws his head back due to the new angle.

Wanting to give your other boy attention, you reach for Jake's thighs, wrapping them across the hard muscle before you pull him towards you. You pull him until his dick is pressed against your lips, planting a small kiss on his head before taking him inside your mouth.

Jake gasps once he feels your warm mouth around his aching length, his body stilling from surprise. His eyes are closed, but his mouth stays open as he releases a whimper, feeling your sharp nails dragging alongside his thighs, leaving more marks.

Just then, you make the move to bottom out on both holes. You sink yourself fully onto Heeseung's dick, both of your thighs pressing firmly against each other. As for Jake and your mouth, you press your palms across the plush skin of Jake's ass before pushing his hips into your mouth, making it so that your nose touches his happy trail and his dick hits against the back of your throat.

Both boys release a loud, satisfactory moan in unison, feeling their dicks hit the farthest they can inside both holes. 

Though your gag reflex is completely non-existent and you're incapable of feeling that sensation, you gag fakely around Jake's dick, fully knowing that the vibrations caused by your throat wrapped around his dick and the contractions would give him complete bliss. At the same time, you grip his hips and start guiding him to thrust into your mouth, and with time, he soon gets the memo that you're telling him to fuck your face. Now, without the guidance of your hands, you take Jake's dick in your throat, completely pliant, as you leave him to thrust his hips desperately, ignoring the bruises it'll leave on the roof of your mouth after he's done with you.

"Mhm," He hums breathlessly while he watches your mouth stuffed with his cock. "'Looks so pretty right now with my penis inside your mouth, Miss."

Cute, he's still using the word penis when referring to the dick that's covered in your saliva.

Unable to talk, all you do is nod, his dick following your motions, and he throws his head back again and moans as per routine.

On the other hand, Heeseung's chest rises and falls as he leans breathlessly against the backrest. He watches the way his dick disappears when your ass and his pelvis collide, completing the action with a loud smack due to how hard you're going down on his lap. There's no stopping you, and believe me, Heeseung doesn't want you to ever stop either, because if something gets in the way of him finally achieving relief, he'll cry. 

There's something about corrupting a virgin that drives you on—however, having two at once makes everything ten times more arousing: the idea of destroying someone's innocence to the point where reality becomes a blur to them. Both their thought processes are the same: God above everything, though you're sure that'll change soon enough. Now, they're desperate for sex. Their innocence mixed with the lust shining in their eyes is adorable, and you have no doubt that if you lose control now, you're going to cum first, and that has never happened before.

At one point, Jake's precum on your tongue gets too addictive, and you're left yearning for more. So, you work harder and try to perform better than you already were just to get more out of him. 

Jake's hips halt when you take your mouth off of him and wrap both of your slender hands around the whole of his dick. You roll your palm against his head before gripping his dick a bit harder against your hand, sliding it down, and watching as the saliva that coats Jake's dick stretches and breaks with the distance. Your hand turns against his length as you push his hot head inside your puffy lips, providing Jake with the utmost amount of pleasure, absentmindedly slowing your motions against Heeseung's dick until they come to a full stop.

With your mind focused solely on his friend, Heeseung is desperate to continue his journey towards satisfaction. So, he experimentally thrusts his hips up into you, repeating the action when you moan against Jake's dick and shake your ass for him to continue.

As Heeseung continues his assault against your cunt, you continue to suck Jake off, your actions speeding up when you notice the clear signs of his peak pleasure surfacing; his breath becomes staggered, his whole body is tensed, and both his hands desperately pull on your hair, guiding you to move your lips against his dick. Jake's brows are knit together, and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, however, this does little to nothing when it comes to concealing his moaning pleas.

For a brief moment, you take his head out of your mouth. "You close, baby—" You ask, but the wind gets knocked out of your chest when he takes you by surprise, pulling your head to take all of his dick in one fast motion.

"Ah!" Jake hisses and his whole body quivers as shots of his hot cum paints your throat and mouth, hips stuttering as he thrusts into you to ride off his orgasm. A long, dragged out moan comes out of Jake's mouth, and you hum against his length, not minding the fact that he just cut you off nor the fact that you feel the roof of your tongue sting because of the bruises that he's left.

Just then, you hear the pastor in charge of leading the mass start preaching about the importance of maintaining one's innocence and how, as subjects of Christ, we must not falter and surrender to evil. The volume of his voice heightens, stressing each statement so as to convince the town folk, who are unaware of the events that are taking place within these holy grounds.

You gasp to catch some air when Jake's dick finally retracts from your mouth, looking up at him through your lashes and sticking your tongue out.

"W-Where did it…?" His question halts when he realizes that you've downed all his semen, afterwards whining at you, finding it incredibly hot.

Suddenly, you feel the boy behind you dig his nails deep into your hips, leaving crescent marks. You look over your shoulder to see Heeseung, who's desperately thrusting into you, trying to reach his own high. The pleading look on his face combined with the way you feel his large dick hit up until your belly button makes you lurch forward, almost falling down if it weren't for Jake, who dashingly catches you.

As he steadies you, Jake gets down on his knees and takes you aback. You groan afterwards when you see him dart his tongue to lick at your slit, Heeseung's dick still pounding into you. It all feels too good: Heeseung behind you hammering his dick up inside you, and Jake on his knees, pretty eyes closed as he savors your taste.

From time to time, Jake's tongue hits Heeseung's dick when the boy pulls his length out, and you feel your own high approaching like a storm. It's coming fast, and it's going to hit both you and Heeseung so hard. Your body is coiling, a hand tangled in Jake's raven hair, and he opens his eyes to show you those adorable irises while the other wraps around Heeseung's neck, dragging him close so you can look at both of them.

Pleadingly, Jake's eyes stay locked with yours, and it's as if both of the boys got the memo that your high is approaching without you announcing it. Their movements become rougher. The palm of Heeseung's hands plants itself on the chair and uses it as leverage to lift himself off. His other arm stays preoccupied, wrapping itself across your stomach to guide you up and down his dick while he jackhammers it inside you. You thank him by attaching your lips against his neck. Gratefully, you leave your mark, now claiming the two of them as your very own.

Jake wraps his plump lips all over your bud, his tongue harshly flicking against it, and it all makes your head spin, head retracting from Heeseung's neck to momentarily throw it back in pleasure. "The both of you are going to drive me insane."

It all hits you at once; Heeseung's cum painting your walls, Jake's pornographically loud moan, and your orgasm that knocks all the breath out of your lungs.

You've never came this hard before, and it's a whole new experience that you greedily want to have again. Amazingly, Heeseung doesn't stop thrusting into you just yet, and neither does Jake. They're both learning so fast, and it just shows more evidence to your theory that both boys were born into the wrong world. But there's no need to fret, you're here to save them and re-sort them, bring them yourself towards where they truly belong, with you.

By the time it finishes, you hear the loud echoes of the churchgoers' cheers and claps. You realize that the mass is over and that this whole scene happened within the span of an hour.

Heeseung pants as you gently lift yourself off to take his dick out of you, chuckling when you hear him hiss once his length leaves the warmth of your insides. "So cold. Wanna go back inside."

"Back off, Hyung. It's supposed to be my turn." Jake calls out, which makes both of your heads turn. Your brows raise in shock and amazement, realizing the reason for Jake's loud moan was because he jerked himself off and came on his hand.

When he sees your eyes fixate themselves on his abs and dick, both covered in his own lustful fluid, Jake's sulk falters. He grows shy, and his blush only grows even more feverish, his lips pouting as he shies away from your gaze.

As you stand up, you grab Jake's hand, guiding him down to sit next to Heeseung so he can rest. You hunch down, facing both of them as you cup their faces in the palms of your hands. They watch in a trance as your face consorts to one that portrays pure mischief, and a mix of adrenaline and excitement spreads across their chest. For some odd reason, there's no hint of fear anymore, only the greed to see what's yet to come. You guide both their heads to press against each other, blushy cheeks squeezing. 

The both of them look up at you as you watch their naked bodies side by side, your mark of ownership shining dimly in purple light. "There's no need to rush. We have all the time we need in hell."

And surprisingly, neither of them is opposed to your idea.

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#kflixnet #enhypenwriters #enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hyung line #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #lee heeseung #park jongseong #sim jake #sim jaeyun #enhypen sub #sub enhypen #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung smut #sim jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #park jongseong smut #lee heeseung x reader #sim jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #park jongseong x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #sub!idol

[minor-solemnity]

Invention and Intrigue pt.4

Tag List: @jinxqsu​ @naps-and-lemons​ @riddles-wifey​ @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute

You look at him and see raw, unfiltered ambition, power and intellect combining to create a formidable young man who won’t be satisfied until the world is remade in his vision. You also see the way he looks at you, as though you are something precious and fierce and delicate and dangerous in your own right. He isn’t afraid of violence, you think he might enjoy it, but when he touches you, he’s gentle and careful. Protective and maybe a touch possessive. 

You still spend a lot of your evenings with Tom. The only difference being that he touches you more often seems to reach for you without conscious thought or effort. You’ll be sit side by side and his fingers will tap rhythmically on your upturned palm. He’ll kiss your cheek after he’s walked you back to your common room and when he leaves, he’ll pause before letting your hand drop from his, as though he has to consciously remind himself to let you go. For someone who so rarely displays joy in physical proximity in public, he is surprisingly demanding behind closed doors. You’re charmed. 

In public, you both keep your distance. You smile at him politely in the halls and he nods in acknowledgement in return. You like it this way. It makes the moments when his guards drop that much more satisfying, and honestly, you’re not sure you’d be able to stand Melanie’s excited gushing if she were to find out that you were dating. 

There’s also the matter of his Slytherin cohort. 

If you were a more idealistic person, you would probably be annoyed by the fact that he keeps his distance. You would probably question what you are to him. If he viewed you as something fun to pass the time with, but not good enough to be seen in public with. You’re not an idiot, no matter how much you might act like it sometimes; you know that your blood plays a large role in why he is so keen to keep your budding relationship a secret. 

But you aren’t a more idealistic person and therefore you understand perfectly that his friends (though really, you’re not sure if you can call the boys he spends time with his friends) would likely abandon him if they knew about you. You’re honestly not sure how Tom even managed to build such a loyal following in the first place. You’ve not spoken about it, but you’re aware that Riddle isn’t a pureblood surname.

And so you spend two glorious months sheltering your relationship from the world, wrapped safely in your shared love of magic and the possibilities it holds and, more often than not, the green blanket that Tom had gifted you. 

It’s on one of these nights in early summer, when the sun has only just started to set, and you’re making the most of the warmer weather that it all goes horribly wrong. 

Tom leaves you in the entrance hall because he is Head Boy and apparently that means he has responsibilities that don’t include walking you back to your common room. You’re halfway up the steps to the first floor when the stunning jinx hits you. Distantly you hear footsteps and then there is a shadow looming over you and a familiar loud cackle ringing in your ears before everything fades to darkness.

You come to in a classroom you vaguely recognise as the one that Tom had taken you to when you’d kissed for the first time. You spare a moment to appreciate with grim irony that you weren’t wrong in your prediction that going into the dungeons would lead to (a probably very painful) death. Lestrange stands in front of you and your heart starts hammering when you see he’s holding your wand loosely in one hand whilst his own is pointed directly at your chest. You glance at the door behind him, wondering briefly if you try and make a run for it, but Lestrange is bigger, stronger and faster than you and without your wand, you are more or less helpless against him. “People like you contaminate everything,” He spits. You know exactly what he’s talking about. He must have seen you with Tom, must have realised what you were to him. By the looks of it, he isn’t best pleased. In fact, his aristocratic features practically distort themselves under the weight of his disgust.

Lestrange raises his wand and you are preparing yourself to welcome death with open arms when the door slams open. Tom is a rigid pillar of anger. There’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes and whilst he isn’t the most expressive person under normal circumstances, it’s nothing compared to the blank, cold rage that you see in him now. In front of you, Lestrange stills, something flashes in his eyes that you think might be fear before it fades. “Stay out of this, Riddle, if you know what’s good for you,” He says, and he’s angry, yes, disdainful and haughty, but you don’t miss the slight hesitation in his voice.

Tom doesn’t either because the mirror that is his expression cracks and a slow, cruel smile twists his upper lip. He looks terrifying and you’ve never been more grateful to see him. “Put your wand down,” He says, and it’s soft, cajoling, completely at odds with the predatory gleam in his eyes. “Put your wand down and look at me.” 

And the thing is, Lestrange does. If you were unconvinced of the sway that Tom holds over his peers before, you aren’t any longer. You think that they would walk through fiendfyre if he ordered them to. Tom doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move a muscle. He isn’t even holding his wand and a thought begins to form in your mind that he might just tell Lestrange to leave. You hope he doesn’t. You don’t care if it’s cruel of you, but you want him to suffer. 

Lestrange makes a strange choking noise, and it takes you a moment to realise that he’s trying to suppress a sob. For a moment, you wonder how Tom is managing it without his wand but then you remember the book he’d been reading months ago and your wonder morphs into shock and then awe. Legilimency. 

With his back turned to you, you can’t see what’s playing across his features, but his hands are shaking and your wand clatters to the ground. Seeing the opportunity for what it is, you dart forward and scoop it up, immediately feeling safer and less afraid. Tom motions for you to join him, and for the first time since he appeared something resembling human emotion flashes across his face. As soon you’re close, he wraps an arm around you and presses his mouth against the top of your head in a vague approximation of a kiss. From where you’re now standing, you can see Lestrange’s expression all too clearly. His features are no longer distorted in disgust but rather in anguish. Eyes wide and unseeing, he shakes in front of you, any sense of superiority reduced to ash.

“Leave.” A single word. An order, a command and Lestrange is scrambling out of the room. It’s only when you can no longer hear his footsteps that your breath hitches and you begin to shake. You’re not sure how long you stand there, face buried in the folds of Tom’s robes, his hands rubbing gentle, comforting circles against your back, but finally, you begin to calm down enough to disentangle yourself from him. He leads you back out of the dungeons and towards safety.

When you get to the entrance hall, Tom turns and offers you his hand. “Walk with me.” His eyes are still hard, as though he still hasn’t shaken the cold contempt he’d exhibited earlier. 

He must see the trepidation play out across your face because his expression softens marginally, dark eyes searching yours almost imploringly. Slowly, tentatively, you reach out and curl your much smaller hand in his. The dry warmth of his skin seeps through you, calming you in a way that you’re not sure is entirely advisable. 

Six months ago, you had thought of Tom Riddle as an enigmatic, child prodigy. The finest wizard to step through the gates at Hogwarts since Albus Dumbledore himself. A portrait of politeness and charm. Now you look at him and see raw, unfiltered ambition, power and intellect combining to create a formidable young man who won’t be satisfied until the world is remade in his vision. You also see the way he looks at you, as though you are something precious and fierce and delicate and dangerous in your own right. He isn’t afraid of violence, you think he might enjoy it, but when he touches you, he’s gentle and careful. Protective and maybe a touch possessive. 

It’s an intimidating thought, to say the least. To feel safe and assured in his presence is probably akin to self-destruction, but here you are: walking, hand in hand, through the rose garden. 

“You know, I thought I had a good idea of what my future would look like,” He murmurs, running his thumb across the back of your hand. You hum noncommittally because your suspicion that his interest in the darker aspects of magic isn’t entirely academic is now confirmed. He has plans for his future, and now, you suppose, he has plans for yours too. “I think that the future might look very different from now on.”

“How so?” 

“I’ve decided to take Slughorn’s advice and go into politics.” The words themselves don’t surprise you. Tom’s ambition, his intelligence, his ruthlessness all spell the beginnings of a lucrative career in politics. What surprises you is the fact that this wasn’t his original plan. But then you think about how you even came to know him and what drew you to each other in the first place and you begin to understand that Tom’s plans likely never constituted anything you could call legal. “When I first came to Hogwarts, I knew immediately that if I wanted to get anywhere in this world, I would have to ingratiate myself with the old families. They’re the ones who hold the real political power in this society. They’re the ones who have the final say on what legislature passes and what fails before it even reaches the Wizengamot. I’ve worked hard to… cultivate a loyal following, purebloods who will carry out my will without complaint.”

That still leaves you though. You’re not so modest that you’re unaware that you are, at least, a factor in Tom’s change of heart but that still doesn’t erase the unspoken issue that Lestrange’s actions had dragged into the light. “They might complain if you were to be seen with me, Tom. They will complain.” You sigh and regret for a future that has not yet come pass fills you. You can see it now, Tom, as Minister for Magic (because you cannot imagine that he would settle for less) with a beautiful pureblood wife to give him credibility in the eyes of a traditionalist society. “As you said, they’re the ones with the real power.”

“You misunderstand me.” He says and he leads you to a bench where you both sit. He turns his body towards you, sitting so close that your knees knock against his. He doesn’t let go of your hand, instead, he interlaces your fingers, holds it against his chest. You don’t want to hope that maybe this isn’t the end like it surely must be, but you find yourself hoping nonetheless. “They’re weak,” He says plainly. “They’re weak and they’re frightened. Lestrange attacked you from behind and stole your wand because he is afraid of you. I would burn their entire world to the ground for you.” He pauses and then smiles, slightly sinister, slightly cruel, entirely lovely. “As it stands, I merely intend to irrevocably change it. They will follow if they know what’s good for them.” 

Melanie says that you’re dramatic, but you don’t think you hold a candle to Tom. Conviction and sincerity blaze across his face and you can’t look away. You pull the hand which is still wrapped tightly around yours to you and kiss his knuckles. “I'll be with you every step of the way.”

END

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

A/N: Tom becomes minister for magic - his political enemies always seem to mysteriously disappear or otherwise change their minds. Reader makes sure that no one can prove anything tho. The Statute of Secrecy is dismantled and integration is in baybee. 

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fic #minific #harry potter #harry potter fanfic

[therealvinelle]

Hey,

What do you think the impact of being brought up as vegan would be on a vampire? I mean if you’re non vegetarian then it stands to reason that killing for food is normal (and humans are food for vampires) but if you’re raised to believe killing animals for sustenance to be a sin would that affect you when you turn? It doesn’t seem very likely with the way vampires act in Twilight where it seems empathy, for humans specifically, was just lost during transition (Carlisle seems to be an exception), but maybe it would?

I’m the person who asked the vegan thing.

I just realized that being raised vegan means that food was food to you so it really wouldn’t affect your diet much as a vampire. Humans were not acceptable to for both vegans and non-vegans but they both would probably end up eating them anyways as a vampire.

But what about people who changed from eating meat to abstaining because they grew up eating it and somewhere along the way realized that they were killing for it and decided to stop. In this case, the family and friends of this person were okay with meat but they decided to stop for the animals’ sake instead of a social norm. Would this kind of person be more likely to go for the vegetarian vampire diet because of their card for humans as well? How much of their personality would remain that they could still care about humans?

This here touches upon why Twilight vampires eat people in the first place.

Before I get into that, though, I feel I should point out that what people eat a is not so easily divided morally as vegans = recognize life has worth, vs. omnivores = don’t. Factors such as culture, income, class, social environment, education, health, politics, and priorities all play a part. There’s a reason why your average young and urban female college student is much more likely to be vegan than a rural male seventy-year-old factory worker, and it has nothing to do with an inherent sense of morality. Even then, someone could become a vegan for reasons that have nothing to do with animal welfare, such as protecting the planet, a special diet, or sustaining a superiority complex (this last category will of course never admit that that’s the real reason and you should unfriend them on facebook if you don’t want your timeline to be filled with guilt-tripping photos of smoking factory pipes and sad-looking cows).

But you weren’t asking about that, you were asking about vampires.

So, when a vampire wakes up, they are faced with this unbearable thirst. It’s different for everyone, or at least they describe it differently, but the whole point of this thirst is that it’s strong enough that you have to actively hold yourself back, at great pains, to keep from killing people over it. Some vampires, when especially hungry (newborn Carlisle when a herd of deer ran by) or confronted with a particularly delicious scent (Emmet when he met his singers) or just when caught off guard (Jasper at Bella’s birthday party), appear to lose their senses altogether.

Choice doesn’t really factor in it, not when you’re a newborn, and not really later on either.

Even if it did, we know that creating a vampire requires tremendous effort. There are two vampires I know of that were accidents, Carlisle and Garret. The vast majority of vampires were created as a conscious decision, and even if they weren’t, the Volturi have a law that Thou shalt not abandon thy newborn. And so this paragraph finally gets to its point: most newborns wake up with their creators nearby. And their creator will take them hunting, at a time when they’re not yet able to resist.

And so you have these people who wake up in completely new and foreign circumstances, their bodies not their own any longer, with this unbearable, constant pain in their throats they can’t escape. They can’t sleep, they can’t eat something else, they can’t tune it out with drugs. There is no reprieve. And yes, it does get better - but in those first few fateful months, they’re pretty much forced to kill people.

Carlisle was the exception, and while I don’t wish to lessen the incredible willpower and humanity he displayed when he resisted his thirst, he was in a unique situation that allowed it. His creator wasn’t there to force him to feed, he already knew what vampires were and as such was repulsed by his own nature, and he was sequestered away in a potato cellar, and therefore not in immediate proximity to humans. What he did was still incredible, but the circumstances allowed him to do it in the first place. Every other man-eating vampire in canon was not so lucky.

My point being, for newborn vampires eating people can’t really be called a choice.

Even as vampires learn control, I imagine the choice to continue eating people is a mix of several factors. In bullet points:

Sunk cost fallacy They’ve already eaten so many humans, why stop now? If there’s a heaven or a hell, they know which one they’re going to. Might as well get a good ride.

Humans aren’t people Vampires in Twilight are dismissive of humans more often than they’re not, often expressing surprise, incomprehension, or disgust at Edward falling for one. And I see why they would: it’s a coping mechanism, for starters, to stop seeing the people you’re tearing apart on a weekly basis as someone with thoughts and feelings. It’d be hard not to, when every interaction with a human is spent having to actively fight the urge to eat them. Men struggle enough with seeing women as people because we have boobs, vampires are the extreme version of that. More, a vampire’s human memories are fading, and what they do remember was so blurry and dull. With the sharpened and enhanced nature of the vampire, being endowed with vampirism will seem like more. Which makes humans less. (Relevant meta)

Blood is hard to resist The thirst is a huge problem. Even as vampires get better at controlling themselves, few of them seem to be particularly good at it. Keep in mind that the Cullens are all training to get to Carlisle’s level, they’re not representative of your average vampire. Most will fail when trying to create a new vampire, and they all balk at Carlisle being unbothered by blood.

Blood tastes amazing Siobhan’s reaction when she learns Carlisle has created a vampire of his own is, verbatim, “how tragic - to be deprived of the greatest joy in life.” (Midnight Sun, page I’m-not-sure) And I can’t blame her for it - blood puts out the fire in her throat, and is the single greatest pleasure in the world. Jasper, Emmet, and Rosalie all agree that it’s the thing a vampire craves more than anything. And living a meandering life where there are no milestones, no community, no home, no deeper meaning to anything, the intense pleasure of drinking human blood becomes the only constant and the only thing they have to truly live for and enjoy.

Then you have the fact that most of them have no idea that animals are an option. By the time they find out there’s a door number two, they’ve successfully dehumanized humans, have nothing else in life and the sunk cost fallacy is sky high. More, Carlisle is a crazy monk asking them to forgo their reason for living to go eat dishwater and be malnourished instead, all so that the mayfly humans can go die of consumption instead. I can see why they said “...no?”.

So, yes, Twilight vampires are terrifying demons who turn into psychopaths. But I can’t in good consciousness hate them for it, because they don’t really get a choice in the matter. Their very nature is designed specifically to turn them into this. Carlisle is a freak who makes everyone else look bad.

In other words, vegans are just as susceptible as others to becoming serial killers. If anything, vegans would eat those filthy meat-eaters to save the planet.

#i don't hate vegans #but they're such low hanging targets for making fun of #twilight vampires #twilight worldbuilding #long post #carlisle cullen #twilight vegetarianism #Anonymous #ask

[kurowrites]

May i ask for WangXian? With nos;

1 (roomates rite?) with 6 (fake dating i think?)

And 5 (something about emotional capacity of a brick? Strangely enough i wish that LWJ would be the one to say this to WWX..if possible 🥺🥺)

I also sorta hope this evolves in to a FWB situation but just the thought of fluff n hilarity from this prompt is already making me squeal n cackle 🤣🤣🤣

Please n thank you 🥰🥰🥰

Have some dumb weekend fluff.

---

When Wei Ying arrived at home, he had a very precise plan how he wanted the rest of the evening to go. He was feeling an exhaustion that barely left him standing, and all he wished for was to eat (though that one was optional, honestly), get fucked into his mattress (though he would probably have to do with a quick wank), and then sleep for the next twelve hours.

Not more, not less.

As they are wont to do, things didn’t turn out quite as he had imagined them on his tedious way home. When he finally walked through the door of the apartment that he and Lan Zhan shared, his first target was the kitchen, where he hoped he would be able to stealthily unearth something from the freezer that could be warmed up in the oven.

When he entered the kitchen, however, he found Lan Zhan at the stove, stirring a pot of food that smelled heavenly. Lan Zhan turned around when he heard the door open, and he gave Wei Ying a critical once-over before he announced: “Take a shower, the food will be ready soon.”

Well, Wei Ying thought, turning around and heading towards the bathroom almost as if he was guided by some higher power. It was rather hard to argue with that.

He had no idea why Lan Zhan was awake this late at night, and why he was cooking dinner, of all things. But Wei Ying was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not when he was this tired. If a shower was the most direct path to food prepared by Lan Zhan, then he would do that without a single complaint.

The shower helped slightly with his exhaustion and general sense of discomfort, and when he finally left the bathroom, he felt slightly more conscious and decidedly more human than before. And when he stepped back into the kitchen, a steaming, hearty bowl of curry was waiting for him at the table, looking perfect and delicious and like everything that Wei Ying had not dared to hope for tonight.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying moaned, making a beeline towards the table, stuffing the food into his mouth almost before he had even taken a seat. “You are the best. The bestest. A god among mortals.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with that statement. “Eat.”

That, Wei Ying did without needing to be told twice. Lan Zhan had made the curry exactly the way Wei Ying liked it, rich in flavour and very spicy, and it was just so good. Getting to eat Lan Zhan’s cooking, full stop, was already a boon. And Lan Zhan had made this curry just for him, had waited until after his bedtime to feed Wei Ying. He truly was the bestest roommate that ever lived.

Wei Ying eagerly devoured his bowl, and Lan Zhan even gave him seconds.

So good! So delicious!

After he had finished his curry, Wei Ying still felt exhausted, but now he had a warm belly full of delicious food, and a warm flicker in his chest that was the knowledge that his roommate cared enough about him to make food when Wei Ying was down on his last leg. Things were looking a little brighter now.

And Lan Zhan was still in the kitchen, putting away the last of the cookware that he had washed while Wei Ying was eating.

Wei Ying looked at him, and considered. After he had already received the deluxe version of the first item on his to-do list tonight, he decided that maybe his luck was just good enough to get the second item on the list checked off, too.

He got up and put his dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and then he waited until Lan Zhan had put away the last pan. Once Lan Zhan’s hands were free, he smoothly slipped in between Lan Zhan and the kitchen counter, and wrapped his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, a sneaky smile playing on his lips. “You are still awake.”

“Indeed,” Lan Zhan calmly observed.

“Mh, I missed you, oh roommate mine,” Wei Ying sighed, a little dramatically. “I feel like I haven’t seen you forever. And now that you’re here…”

He leaned in, gently rubbing his nose against the soft skin of Lan Zhan’s neck.

He felt the tiniest of shudders in response, and then Lan Zhan’s arms wrapped around his waist.

Jackpot.

It wasn’t always easy, figuring out when Lan Zhan was in the mood. They were roommates after all, and generally they just lived together. But sometimes, even the rigid Lan Zhan needed to let off a little steam, and when he was in the right mood, he was perfectly fine with fucking Wei Ying into various surfaces around their apartment. Wei Ying obviously had no objections to that; not only was Lan Zhan really hot, he was also really good at sex.

Maybe it was sad to say that his entire sex life consisted of occasionally seducing his roommate, but it was good. Really good. And Lan Zhan seemed to feel the same, because Wei Ying was pretty sure that Lan Zhan wasn’t having any kind of ‘relations’ with anyone else.

So yes, they had done this many times before, and by now, Wei Ying had become pretty skilled at reading when Lan Zhan was open to seduction. Still, the moment before he could be sure that Lan Zhan was willing to respond was always a nerve-wracking one. Luckily today, Lan Zhan’s hands on his waist spoke a clear language.

He grinned up at Lan Zhan and said cheekily, “I’ve been wanting to get fucked into my mattress very, very thoroughly all day. Honestly, I think all that’s between me and twelve hours of sleep is one good orgasm.”

Lan Zhan didn’t reply, but his hands squeezed Wei Ying’s waist once in response to Wei Ying’s words.

Wei Ying moaned in return, leaning up to press soft kisses against Lan Zhan’s lips.

“You can do with me whatever you want,” he promised. “I’m all yours.”

His clumsy attempt at seduction was apparently deemed sufficient, because Lan Zhan started herding Wei Ying towards his bedroom.

Being in Lan Zhan’s care was always amazing, because Lan Zhan never failed to really take care of everything, especially in moments like these. He silently guided Wei Ying to his bed, stripped him out of his clothing (folding and putting everything away properly, which shouldn’t be hot but was, anyway), then readied lube and condoms, and before long, he was arranging Wei Ying on the bed with almost adorable intent and focus.

Wei Ying let it all happen; he felt too lazy to move on his own volition and was perfectly willing to let Lan Zhan take the wheel after he had signalled his willingness. Lan Zhan moved his limbs around, lifted his hips, and suddenly, Wei Ying found himself in a position where he was more or less pinned on the bed, open for Lan Zhan but not really able to move otherwise.

It was perfect. This was exactly what he had fantasised about. When Lan Zhan worked him open and slowly pushed into him, he was unable to do anything but moan and take what Lan Zhan was giving him. It was incredible, getting slowly fucked into the mattress by Lan Zhan. As he was wont to do, he tortured Wei Ying, letting his orgasm build slowly as he thoroughly worked Wei Ying’s body with precise movements. He had never really told Lan Zhan as much, feeling that such a confession end up on the wrong side of revealing, but he felt safe in Lan Zhan’s hands, and only this let something inside him unfurl slowly, something that had been tense and stressed out all day.

It wasn’t necessarily the physical act in itself that made Wei Ying want to sleep with Lan Zhan occasionally, but this feeling of safety, of being taken care of that Lan Zhan seemed to naturally inspire. He sometimes got horny for that feeling alone.

When he finally came, it was with an almost hazy, sluggish kind of intensity, one that made his eyes close and sleep pull at his consciousness almost before he knew it.

He felt a gentle hand on is back, and a whispered ‘Sleep,’ and then he was gone.

---

When Wei Ying woke up the next morning, finally feeling halfway rested again, Lan Zhan was obviously long gone. He always woke so much earlier than Wei Ying, and had probably finished half of his planned tasks for the day already. It was enough to make one feel bad about one’s own achievements, if Wei Ying didn’t have absolutely no hope of every reaching Lan Zhan’s levels of competence.

Wei Ying stretched lazily and wandered into the kitchen to look of food. His plans today mostly consisted of eating and lazing around; the first day in a long while that he would be able to enjoy without having to stress about work, and he intended to enjoy it by doing absolutely nothing.

In the kitchen, he found breakfast prepared for him already – Lan Zhan really was too good to him! Grateful, Wei Ying sat down and dug in with enthusiasm.

Once he was finished, he considered for one moment that he should probably go to the bathroom and try to make himself at least somewhat presentable, but he really wasn’t feeling it. His primary goal today was to vegetate. He didn’t need to look actually human to do that. Instead of going to the bathroom, therefore, he went in search of Lan Zhan. It didn’t take long; he found him in the living room, reading a book on the sofa.

Without ceremony, Wei Ying flopped onto the sofa next to Lan Zhan, leaning his weight onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Lan Zhan, Wei Ying couldn’t help but notice, looked and smelled as good as he always did, while Wei Ying was still a disaster zone. It was truly enviable. Not that Wei Ying felt he had enough energy to put effort into it, right now.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighed, rubbing his face against Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “What would I do without a roommate like you? You are the best. Roommate of the year. Maybe of the century. The breakfast wasn’t needed, but appreciated anyway.”

He had expected one of Lan Zhan’s customary little “Hn”s, ignoring Wei Ying in favour of keeping his eyes on the book he was reading. Instead, he felt Lan Zhan’s posture grow stiff, right before Wei Ying was gently pushed off of Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan heaved a heavy sigh that Wei Ying didn’t know how to interpret.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said with a certain sense of gravity in his voice, not quite looking at Wei Ying. “I hate to agree with your brother on anything, but I think he was not entirely wrong when he told you that you have the emotional capacity of a brick.”

Wei Ying jerked back a little. He wouldn’t want to admit it, but the words hurt.

He knew that he wasn’t always the most sensitive person on the planet, but for Lan Zhan to use words like that… He racked his brain, trying to think of what he had done to make Lan Zhan this upset.

Lan Zhan had cooked for him yesterday without Wei Ying asking him to do it, and Wei Ying had said thank you. Wei Ying had asked for sex, but he’d checked in with Lan Zhan first to make sure he was okay with it. And the rest of the time, he’d been unconscious.

Was Lan Zhan upset that he hadn’t really done his share of housework lately, since he’d been so busy with his job?

“Lan Zhan, I –” he laughed nervously, pushing his hands through his hair. “You’re probably right about that, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lan Zhan sent him a look, which was somewhat less angry than Wei Ying had expected it to be (what a relief, Lan Zhan wasn’t actually angry at him), and then he sighed.

“Wei Ying,” he said, and suddenly he sounded a little sad. “You keep calling me roommate.”

“That’s… what you are?” Wei Ying asked, confused.

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say, because Lan Zhan’s expression soured.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaimed, keeping himself from latching onto Lan Zhan at the last moment. He doubted Lan Zhan wanted Wei Ying to touch him again right now. “Is that wrong?”

Lan Zhan huffed once.

“No, I guess it is not,” he pressed out. “I had simply hoped I would at least merit a ‘friend’ by now.”

Wei Ying gaped at Lan Zhan. Sat and stared at him in disbelief, watching as Lan Zhan’s ears slowly turned a brilliant pink.

“Lan Zhan!” he exclaimed, and then he couldn’t go on, because he was choked with too many feelings.

Lan Zhan, that Lan Zhan, considered him a friend?

A friend??

“Wait,” Wei Ying suddenly realised. “At least a friend?”

Lan Zhan sent him the flattest look he had ever seen. It was genuinely impressive.

“We’re fucking, Wei Ying,” he said, in a tone of voice equally as flat.

There was a beat of silence, a pronouncing ringing that went through the living room, freezing the air in between them for a moment.

And then Wei Ying tipped his head up and burst into laughter, loud and unrestrained. How could he not? Lan Zhan was funny, and Wei Ying was so relieved, and so happy, and…

“I thought you were barely tolerating me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sighed as he back flopped against the sofa, the sudden storm of emotions ravaging his already exhausted body and dragging him back down as he took a deep breath. “I never thought you would ever –”

He bit on his lips and looked up at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, who always took such good care of him.

Lan Zhan, who–

“I love you, Lan Zhan.”

The words left his lips almost against his will.

How could he not say that, when Lan Zhan looked at him with soft, molten eyes, the trace of a blush still staining his cheeks a pretty pink?

He loved this man.

“I really love you, Lan Zhan,” he couldn’t help but repeat. “So, you see, maybe slightly more emotional capacity than a brick. Though I wouldn’t–”

Lan Zhan, judging from the way he lifted Wei Ying into his lap, pressed their hot faces together, and peppered Wei Ying’s lips and cheeks with little kisses, apparently felt the same.  

Definitely more than the emotional capacity of a brick.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #prompt meme #prompts #izzy-isme92

[royalydamned]

Severus Snape and social pressure

I've been putting this off for a while but in the light of recent events I really wanted to adress it. I'm not the one for metas per se, but well....

People who think Snape wanted to join Death Eaters because of idea of blood purity usually accuse us, Snape defenders, of thinking he was forced into it. That's nothing but a overdramatization and twisting our words, our point stands in the fact that he was manipulated/persuaded into it.

force - "make someone do something against their will"

manipulate - "control or influence (a person or situation) cleverly or unscrupulously."

persuade - 1. "induce (someone) to do something through reasoning or argument."

- 2. "cause (someone) to believe something, especially after a sustained effort; convince."

- 3. "(of a situation or event) provide a sound reason for (someone) to do something."

(added exact definition of words in case someone decided to twist what I mean)

We don't deny him making the choice as his own decision. They didn't threaten him, blackmail him, force him. As group they had enough influence to make him believe in it as well, and also providing a safe space which he desperately needed and wanted to stay in.

Before anyone tells me I'm condoning his actions, I am not. This is analysis meta, explaining the possible things leading to him joining the Death Eaters, and not excusing them, or putting the blame on others. I feel like I always have to explain myself on anything on this goddamn app.

Individual in a group:

When it comes to a single individual in a group without opinion plurality, that share most views, the person adapts to the group’s perception, and not only because of the desire to fit in. They get affected by the habits, behavior and even language usage (like when a lot of people who don’t swear start swearing to different extents after being around the group often, accommodating to it even unconsciously, or quite the opposite, when a person who swears is welcomed into a group of people that find swearing rude and shield from hearing/using it, they regulate this language not to feel awkward, different and judged) and pick them up into their own daily life over time. The gradual adjusting and merging into the group can not only add and change one’s habits and behavior, but also completely erase the ones they had before joining and didn’t go with the others.

Snape is known to actually adapting his behavior in different case, like language. As a kid and a teen, he is shown to have poor communication skills and problems with proper speaking:

"You're...You're a witch," whispered Snape.

"I didn't mean-- I just don't want to see you made a fool of-- He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!" The words seemed wrenched from him against his will. "And he's not...everyone thinks...big Quidditch hero--" Snape's bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent, and Lily's eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up her forehead.

"The-- the prophecy...the prediction...Trelawney..."

He always seem to have difficulty speaking under some kind of stress and pressure, yet as a teacher he always seems to speak properly and appear collected, as a person with authority and surrounded by well educated people, he has to be seen on the same level, clearly perfecting his language when even angry or pressured he rarely starts almost stuttering. Just an example of how Snape is actually willing to adapt and quick to do so, no desire to hold his actual habits.

Response of one's environment:

Behavioral change is also linked with external reaction. After his and Lily's friendship ended, he was only around one group of people, getting positive responses when doing/saying things that others would find bad.

He wasn't actually known using Mudblood before hanging out with his housemates

When it comes to reinforcing the adopted behavior, person encounters positive and negative response, that shapes their perception on the way they act and if it’s truly acceptable. If the responses are mainly positive and encouraging, these new demeanors stick with them, if the responses are negative, person can change to be accepted by the majority in society if they don’t have enough support.

If Snape faced mostly positive reactions to those actions, he normalized them even if he didn’t quite believe in them at first, and if he wasn’t called out on it by Lily enough which could be only a theory, and nobody else cared enough to challenge it, it stuck with him.

Snape's bullying of muggleborns:

There is no clear evidence of Snape taking an active role, but also no evidence of him being passive.

I’m sure that the initiator wasn’t him though, and that he was either an imitator, that takes part in the action when invited and does what others want from him/imitates what others did, or just participating without taking any action, as an act of hiding behind group’s protection and validation that sometimes under pressure especially in public social events can result in a person acting out of their way.

Peer pressure and group manipulation:

In my opinion Severus was great and easily manipulated target because he had strong feelings of anger and sense of injustice that he experienced on himself from multiple people therefore could easily fall for the ideas especially if there was selective providing of information from their part (intentional avoiding of certain topic that could be viewed as upsetting or in any other negative way, potentially putting off the “target” and only focusing on the positives which would appeal to the positive feelings).

Snape was a victim of bullying humiliation and almost murder because of bunch of arrogant guys, the idea of being powerful and no longer be an easy prey must have been insanely intriguing and most definetly the main reason of his agreement.

This is more of a side note, but it also had been proved bullying victims have higher tendency to turn to crime.

The other way of manipulation that could be theoretically very easily present in the Snape - Death Eaters dynamics is the eliciting of certain emotions in individual, which is the well known protection, acceptance and feeling of belonging they provided Snape.

Next I’d mention the confirmation bias, which is the tendency to be persuaded about values and opinions that are already present in one consciousness, the idea already born, but in doubt as something new, where the person is affected only by the confirmation of their idea/suspicion and mostly ignore or try to ignore everything that rejects/doesn’t support them, so if Snape had already bad perception of muggles because of his father and maybe Petunia, it would be easy for it to grow into the growing idea of purism under the support of DE that agreed with him, adding on more negative traits/ideas about Muggles/Muggleborns/non-magical people, since it was a very emotionally sensitive topic for him and he was easily affected because of the trauma he endured by a muggle.

Why Severus Snape but not Sirius Black?:

Many people bring up Sirius' Black as a counter argument, since Sirius was also abused and even brought up in Death Eater household.

The more easily manipulative individual, or the less strong-willed, the easier and quicker the transition is.

Manipulation is mostly done on emotionally weakened or recently very frustrated individuals, that are already starting to form a certain ideas, the majority supporting and/or confirming it makes them give in easily.

Like I mentioned before, Snape had a strongly negative emotional connection towards Muggles in his life, easily forming a negative bias against them, which if reinforced and supported enough were easily transformed into next level. He never shown any dislike towards Muggle-borns, he even protected Lily's feelings when she asked if it makes any difference in the Wizarding World.

His emotional nature and vulnerability because of his abuse and bullying in the course of his life, without any kind of protection and support system, it must have been rather easy to brought him into the great idea of power, authority and protection.

Sirius was from Death Eater family, but had the Marauders, mainly James, who rejected those ideas, being with him significantly more often than his family. Taking the same analysis on Sirius as Severus, Snape was abused by a muggle and protected by blood purists, Sirius was abused by blood purists and had no negative experience caused by Muggles.

People tend to have the same ruler for different experiences in this case, but their experiences are actually the opposite.

Snape is great subject of analysis especially when it comes to psychological side , and it is definetly not as simple as being forced or believing in it himself but many more factors like an average human mind in different situation and it feels almost insulting to his character simplifying his choices like that.

I'm by no means a psychological expert, but this meta was researched, and not on the internet, and I take great passion in my research, still doesn't mean I couldn't translate something correctly or that certain things weren't updated in some way.

#pro severus snape #severus snape #snape meta #pro snape

[ajokeformur-ray]

Can you do some fluff with Ledger joker? Like cuddling at the end of the day after he gets back home or something like that? Anything just sweet will do. Thanks! :)

Summary: Suffering badly with period cramps do you need your clown. He’s got you.

Warnings for descriptions of cramps, mentions of periods, mentions of painkillers, a grumpy clown.

Word count: 1, 186.

You lay curled up in the foetal position on your bed, your hand resting on the dark patch of skin just beneath your navel, your fingers rubbing. Oh, but you hated your period, you hated it with a vengeance, and though you had taken some painkillers had they not been enough to really take the edge off of the sharp, stabbing pains in your abdomen.

You felt sick, dizzy, fatigued, and your core was throbbing in the most unpleasant way possible. Everything ached and you longed so dearly for your radiator of a clown to come home soon so that he could replace your hand with his own and lull you to sleep with that soft gravelly whisper of his that you so adored.

Keeping your eyes shut and your thoughts on keeping your shaky breaths as regular as you could with the sheer level of pain which was coursing through your body, did you reach out a hand, fumbling for the burner phone which J had given you. It had no sim card because they could be tracked and anything which jeopardised you was a fierce no. Your safety and comfort was always, always paramount to J. 

You could only use this number in emergencies and the number which you dialled would be wiped from all records as soon as the call ended; just to keep you safe and hide J’s whereabouts. Every few weeks was the phone and the number replaced, so you learned to never get too attached to any phone model which you were given.

Just at the point where you had found J’s number, your eyes barely cracked open enough for you to see the screen, the front door slammed against the wall and you heard maniacal cackling. The phone was immediately abandoned where it had been found; underneath your pillow and therefore out of sight but always at the forefront of your mind.

“J!” You smiled happily, whispering his name to yourself had always brought you so much comfort.

“Honey, I’m ho - me!” Your clown giggled like he had just told a joke as he flung his keys in the vague direction of the key bowl which rested near the door. He totally missed and you heard the small key hit the wall and bounce off with a tiny clink as it hit the floor.

You turned to face the bedroom door so that you could see J coming into view, and you winced as pain ripped through your abdomen. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and clenched your teeth as you breathed in and out, in and out - 

You felt a gloved hand lightly touch the top of your head. “Somethin’ wrong, doll?”

Gently did you shake your head, really feeling like you needed a painkiller but you had just taken one. You still had at least another four hours and you whimpered in pain, making J grunt in concern.

“No.” You exhaled shakily, your fist coming to ball up the duvet cradling your body. The hand which was in your hair went down to smooth out your fingers, J’s intense chocolate eyes boring into yours as he took in the foetal position, the pained look on your face, the empty foil trays of painkillers carelessly thrown onto the kitchen counter like you had been in a hurry… 

You were grazed with the sight of the exact moment that understanding dawned on J’s painted face.

“Shark week.” It wasn’t a question but rather a statement, his full lips turning downward in what looked like mock sympathy. He did care, he did, but he showed it in smaller, subtle ways which you had learned to look for and appreciate more than his overt methods of affectionate.

You nodded. “Ye - ah.” The word was broken up by a pained gasp and J shushed you gently three times, his low rasp soothing you more than any combination of painkillers ever could.

“Easy, doll. Easy. I got’cha.” His quiet mutterings were audible to you even over the slight headache which you had, and you felt yourself beginning to relax.

J made his way around to the other side of the bed, kicked off his shoes without a care for where they landed and laid down as quietly and as seamlessly as he could. His efforts were in vain for still did he cause twinges to ripple through your abdomen but you grit your teeth against the nausea as you got comfortable beside him, your side pressed securely against his.

“You’re so hot, J.” You had to speak just a bit louder to be heard over his cackles as you said, “You’re like a heater!” To emphasise your point did you grab one of his hands, the bed moving slightly with his laughter, and placed it on your navel, just below the waistband of your shorts.

J, to his credit, knew exactly what you needed and he kept the pressure as gentle as he could, feeling like he was barely touching you but not wanting to fully rest the weight of his large hand on you.

“How ya’ feelin’, Y/N? Any better?”

You groaned. “My back, boobs and abdomen hurt so bad and I feel sick and tired, nauseous and I just want it to go away.”

J cooed mockingly and you smiled, even with your rising irritation. You just wanted to rest.

“Anything I can to, ah - help ya’?”

“Massage me gently?” You wondered if J could be gentle, so rough was he, but as J began to slowly, hesitantly, rub circles into your stomach, you were proven wrong. You moaned; finally feeling better, and J stilled, his entire body tense. He wasn’t even breathing as he assessed your facial expression, your body language…

“No, it’s - it’s okay, J. Feels good.”

J grunted to acknowledge that you had spoken and focused on what he was doing, his eyes trained on your every hitched breath, your gasps, your slight moans of pain but also of relief so intense it made you want to cry. Right there in that moment did he come to realise just how badly he hated seeing you suffer, and he promised himself that he would do anything to make you feel better. Anything, no matter how unsavoury the act seemed to others. Such was his devotion to you.

“Thank you, J. ‘Love you.”

You allowed your eyes to drift shut, trusting J more than you trusted anything or anyone else. He’d keep you safe.

“Sleep, Y/N. You’ll feel better when ya’ wake.”

“Stay?” A sleepy mumble now, almost on the edge of consciousness were you.

A pressure as gentle as the one on your abdomen was felt on your forehead, a sticky warmth as J leaned over slowly, carefully kiss your skin, his lips lingering against the area as he allowed himself to love you.

“Nowhere I’d rather be, doll.”

You leaned upwards just enough for J to understand that you wanted another kiss to your forehead, but before he could call you needy were you asleep, temporarily free from the bane of your existence.

Destructive raccoon boii™ @nothing-but-a-comedy @jokershyena   @anyatheladyclown   @mijachula   @joker-daddy    @rinbyo    @imightaswellnotexistatall    @vladtoly    @joker-is-my-hero    @liz-rdwitch   @enigmaticandunstable        @ledgerskitten    @tsukiakarinobara    @germansarechill      @ezziesworld

#nonnie #headcanons open #heath ledger #heath ledger joker #heath ledger joker imagine #heath ledger joker x reader #heath ledger imagine #ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #ledger!joker imagine #ledger!joker #ledger!joker x reader #ledger!joker fanfic #ledger!joker x reader imagine #the dark knight #the dark knight imagine #the dark knight x reader #tdk #tdk imagine #tdk x reader #tw; period mention #tw; cramps mention #tw; painkiller mention

[jenner-benjamin]

Performance Writing

‘Letter of Resignation’ - performance writing.

This last year in particular I have started to become more comfortable with the fact that I am as excited by the performative act of making as I am by the consequential drawing or print. I think because my research has led to intense discourse about the disappearance of handwriting, I have become increasingly aware of this being an important aspect of my practice. As such I have started to document the process and creation of some artworks, regarding these performances just as important as than the finished outputs themselves. 

These drawings were mostly produced at home, but eventually became tiresome and monotonous. I think because I was limited to the desk in my bedroom, I felt as though everything was whispered and restricted. Once university began to slowly reopen I was able to get hold of a space big enough that I could really spread out, and when not confined by space I was able to shout about how I was feeling rather than whisper. This release was exactly what I needed to breathe a bit of life back into my practice and I am very excited by the results.

The following performances are titled ‘Letters of Resignation’. The title is an homage to the works of the same name by Cy Twombly, an artist that is widely recognised for his works that have quite clear connections to asemic writing. Furthermore there are many suggestions that can be derived from this title; letters in the sense of individual written characters, letters that we write in correspondence, resigning from a job and resigning to the fact that this is just how life is now. I enjoyed the multiple meanings that can be deduced from this, just as there are multiple ways that we can read and understand asemic writing.

‘Letter of Resignation’ - performance writing.

‘Letter of Resignation’ - performance writing.

I conducted this series of performances because I wanted to spread out and enjoy not being limited to a domestic space. I unravelled a roll of Fabriano paper and performed a series of asemic written works to music with a mop, a handheld jug mop, and a drawing instrument that I made with bamboo cane and string. These instruments are all evidently larger than a pen or paintbrush, and so in writing with these on the oversized paper I was making myself more aware that this performance was more of a spectacle than writing at my desk with a pen. 

I write every single day, therefore I perform every day, and yet I was not consciously aware that the performance was taking place. It is interesting that the change in writing implement made me acutely alert to this fact. This is definitely something to think about in terms of the context of how or where the performance is taking place. 

Does a performance need to be documented or witnessed in order to describe it as a performance? If I sit at my desk and write a letter, is it any less performance as it would be to do the exact same thing but go live on social media whilst doing it? Is every act of writing a performance, or is it a performance because it is labelled as such? I have begun to read more about some artists that explore performance in their practice in the hopes of learning more about why this method of communicating my ideas has peaked my interest.

Inoue Yûichi

Inoue Yûichi in his studio by Itô Tokio, 1984 - photograph.

‘Katsu (Sound of Metal)’ by Inoue Yûichi, 1977 - ink on paper.

Inoue Yûichi, was a Japanese artist who began working as a primary school teacher, before retraining under the tutelage of calligrapher, Ueda Sokyu. He came to the practice later on in life but is now regarded as one of the most esteemed Japanese artists of the last century. He co-founded the avant-garde society for calligraphy which in turn saw his push for liberation from calligraphy’s traditional roots, advocating documentation of the calligrapher’s physical movements and energy as being equally as paramount as the textual pieces themselves. 

Yûichi depicts traditional Japanese kanji characters, having been predominantly inspired by traditional masters of Japanese calligraphy, but performs them in such a way that has been likened to abstract expressionist action painters. This meeting of Eastern and Western culture culminates in a performative practice that is a pure expression of being in the present moment. He allowed himself to enter a state of calm that is standard practice of the Japanese art of ‘Shodo’, which connects the mind with the body. This calm state of being is thus expressed in his written performance. 

Nakajima Hiroyuki

‘Calligraphies Sonores’ by Nakajima Hiroyuki, 2018 - performance at Villa Cavrois Lille in France.

‘Shizen’ by Nakajima Hiroyuki, 2012 - performance at Galeria Nobili Milano in Italy.

Nakajima Hiroyuki is a performance artist, also from Japan, but learnt the art of Shodo from a young age. Hiroyuki understood that the art of calligraphy was highly sought after, but recognised that it had the potential to surpass tradition. He began to create abstract artworks based on his deep knowledge of Japanese calligraphy.

Not long after he began exhibiting his calligraphic abstract forms, he introduced elements of Tai Chi in to his practice, aiming to establish the process of calligraphy by way of performance. He begins his performances by standing in a meditative situation, as per traditional Shodo practices, and then in one swift movement he creates his written thoughts as an evidence of that point in time.

Hiroyuki says:

“Every work of "Sho" is created in one continuous motion, and therefore cannot be repeated or re-written. The power of "Sho" lies in this feature of non-recurrence. Even if you draw the same letter ten times, ten different forms will arise spontaneously.”

I am drawn to the sense of calm and quiet in both Yûichi and Hiroyuki’s performances. The influence of Zen Buddhism and traditional leanings makes for a great basis on which to build from. They utilise traditional ideas in conjunction with contemporary art practice to create performance writings that are not only dynamic but also speak of their cultural backgrounds. 

James Nares

James Nares is a multi-disciplinary artist whose practice includes; film, music, painting, photography and performance. He uses these methodologies to explore ideas of physicality and motion. 

In the 1980s Nares began creating what are now his iconic brush stroke calligraphic paintings. These paintings document a gestural and expressive moment, a record of motion across the surface, and are inspired by Roy Lichtenstein’s own depictions of brush strokes. 

Nares suspends himself on wires above the canvas in what looks to be a slightly precarious Mission Impossible manner. This inclusion of an outside source in which to aid the creation of the painting further enhances the idea of performance, bringing an element of true action to the forefront of the drawing. The innovative employment of the wires does add an extra dimension to the works, though I would tend to think that they are required for logistic purposes as opposed to it being performance art. Nevertheless it is an interesting way in which to create a drawing, and an added point of interest. 

‘Girl About Town’ by James Nares, 2017 - screenprint on paper.

‘Damian’ by James Nares, 2014 - screenprint on paper.

Janine Antoni

‘Loving Care’ by Janine Antoni, 1993 - performance with hair dye. Janine Antoni’s work sits in the space between performance and installation. She addresses everyday activities such as eating and bathing and transforms these routines in to art, chiefly using her own body as her method of conveying these ideas. 

Antoni has performed pieces where she has scraped away at both lard and chocolate with her teeth, as well as washing away exact replicas of her face made from soap. The piece I am most drawn to is ‘Loving Care’, a performance whereby Antoni mopped the floor with her own hair, soaked in ‘Loving Care’ hair dye. She explains that in doing this she learns and reconnects with her body, finding an understanding with what happens when she puts her body in such an uncompromising space. I am reminded of the body prints by David Hammons and the performative prints that I studied in the Research Practice module. Hammons expressed a sense of cultural identity by using his body as a matrix for printing and mark-making. 

Antoni could also be seen to be putting forth a thought-provoking address of antiquated views of femininity in the domestic setting in collusion with action painting. Mopping been seen as a domestic chore and action painting popularised by abstract expressionism which was predominantly populated by men. 

This is a great instance of performance drawing, an example of the artist claiming the space as her canvas, and forcing the audience out of the room as she did so. Again, I enjoy the sense of performance art as a means of describing one's identity, this case being an emotional articulation of gender identity. 

Franz Erhard Walther

Politisch (Political), no. 36 by Franz Erhard Walther, 1967 - performance.

I came across the work of Franz Erhard Walther during my research of the Fluxus movement. He is a German artist that rose to prominence with his participatory and activated sculptural works. 

‘Werksatz’ is a series of roughly fifty wearable sculptures that are activated through audience interaction, and an exploration is made of the demands that they place on the human body. These demands are furthered by the possibility of the relationships that the objects prompt between additional participants. The fabric objects consist of a multitude of openings, fastenings and straps that encourage the user to wear and initiate them, either as a solo performance or as a collective effort. 

Walther explains that the motivation behind the wearable sculptures was to understand the negotiation between dormant and active states. This in turn suggests how the materiality of the works might change the body’s behaviour. It is also interesting to note how some of the pieces depended upon the audience’s ability to achieve an awareness of harmony within the structure, making the piece a confrontation as opposed to a simple Happening. I do like this sense of participation from the audience, if it weren't a risk to health and safety this would be something I would have been keen to explore at my end of degree show. Perhaps urging the audience to create their own asemic works in response or alongside my own. This is still food for thought for further study, as restrictions begin to ease.

Körpergewichte (Body Weights), no. 48 by Franz Erhard Walther, 1969 (performed in 2008) - performance.

Nancy Murphy Spicer

‘Hanging Drawings, 20 successive drawings, unique and unrehearsed’ by Nancy Murphy Spicer, 2015 - installation and performance.

I met Nancy Murphy Spicer as an undergraduate student after she gave a talk to my year group about her drawing practice. I have since read that she created a participatory drawing performance that questions the very nature of drawing. She establishes the line as a sensuous object that can be touched, moved and manipulated. The result is a participatory installation that invites the audience forth to engage with the line and create their own drawing.

It is an interesting conception of the physicality of drawing. The artist has brought forth the tools in which the drawing is to be made, but ultimately it is the spectator that activates its agency as a drawing. This notion not only melds the roles of artist and audience, but also gallery and art studio. 

The hanging drawings also touch upon the idea posited by Hiroyuki about the same drawing never being able to be repeated - ‘even if you draw the same letter ten times, ten different forms will arise spontaneously’. This is a thought that I have come back to multiple times throughout this course, the idea of the multiple and the edition. I am a printmaker that is excited by the accidental and incidental unplanned marks, and so the notion of works that can never be repeated is something that I have explored time and time again through print, drawing, writing, and now performance.

‘Hanging Drawings, 20 successive drawings, unique and unrehearsed’ by Nancy Murphy-Spicer, 2015 - installation and performance.

In researching ideas of performance drawing and performance writing, I again find myself being reminded of the Fluxus movement. I would propose that these performances are both Happenings and event scores. I think that this might be an avenue to explore going forward, the capacity for asemic writing to exist both as performance and event score. I do not see Letters of Resignation as a finished piece, but as a starting point to which I could further investigate. Perhaps I could record more written pieces that are less dramatic and focus more on the every day written works. These are just as much performance even without the great expanse and exaggerated writing implements. 

#practice #influences #performance #performance art #performance drawing #performance writing #cy twombly #action painting #abstract art #abstract expressionism #fluxus #happenings #event score #score #asemic #asemic art #asemic writing #printmaking #masters #mamdp #processes

[astrallines]

Earth to Air #03

The most pertinent astrological event of our time is the once-every-two-centuries procession of the elements in the Jupiter-Saturn synodic cycle. In December 2020, we are moving from an earth age to an air age. I will be cataloguing reflections and predictions, as well as amplifications of the elements and their zodiacal signs.

Food is the Reward We say that Venus, ruler of taurus and libra, governs ethics and aesthetics. Ethics is the more immaterial, and best represented by libra, the air sign. Aesthetics is concrete, and best represented by taurus, the earth sign. Taurus is the sign of food, values, and art. We talk about tasting food and having taste in art. Taste in art is essentially a measure of appropriateness, and so are our values. “[Something], in what measure?” A tone of voice, a texture, a shape or color. Recall, taurus also rules money. Wealth in what measure? What results in pleasure.

What is this association between the material and value? Why does something hold more value if it is objective and physical?

Tina Fey once said something very wise: that the only real reward is food. When you are celebrating a success, the feeling is cemented by food. Regardless of scale. Finished fixing a pipe at home? Have a nice lunch. Successfully stage the opening night of your epic opera? Go out to dinner. The act of consumption is tied to the success of the deed, this is especially obvious on the occasion of a toast. Not only does the food tether the success around it, but it binds together the people who are sharing in it. We see that food is not only a consolidated symbol of value, but that it also concentrates the group into a set of values. Thus food is a bedrock of tribal life and tribalism. How offended is the tribe when you refuse to eat with them, or in their manner?

The word “binding” means three things: attaching, reinforcing and restricting. Tribal life is restricted by convention, but the affixing of concrete images and values to the symbolic order of the tribe fortifies its strength by providing it new organs, new capacities. In alchemical psychology, the stage of “coagulation” is all about the affixing of images, and closely relates to the process of personification. When a psychological complex is given an image—or better yet, personified—it is far easier to deal with. But the carrying around of an image that has been outgrown is, of course, restrictive. So images must not be permanent. Our bodies too are images, and they are beautiful and valuable because they die.

The attachment to our bodies is very important for life. If we did not care about our bodies and find them beautiful we would die much faster. “Let your wicked desires keep you pinned to this earth so your work could go on,” wrote Jung to his suicidal friend. Desire keeps us in life, and the desire of all the beings within us keep the body together. The countless microorganisms within do not have minds, but they have wants.

Dissolution Under Analysis Supposing that there is a mesh of matter underlying the various objects of the world. After all, bodies die and buildings fall to rubble and then to dust. So if we think about matter as a whole, without its temporary approximate forms, it certainly is a diffuse mesh, a matrix. Then the cohering of that mesh into one of these forms is a desire.

Consider also the process of logic, which must operate upon abstractions that have been crystallized into units. Set theory, for instance, deals with the abstraction of set, drawn into coherence by its categorization as a set. Each member of a set is also itself a set. It is sets all the way up and down. So it is the bundling of axioms, the coagulation of the set, that makes it all operable.

An Amp for Christ When Christ came to earth, he vitiated the magical projections of animism. The spirits of nature withdrew from the rocks and trees. This is the root of the opposition between Christianity and paganism. The keynote here is that Christ did this by taking these projections upon himself—he sheathed himself in the symbols of the world. This was an axial moment in the development of consciousness, where people realized they could find all the spirits of the world inside themselves. Here psyche could make an integral step in its pivot to self-reflection. We don’t know what the world appeared like preceding or directly after this event, but we might imagine that the world of matter suddenly appeared much more real and substantial.

And he said something about how he was the living bread, and from then on people have been eating his body in the form of the Eucharist. Is this part of his great deed, to make explicit the bundling of values that goes into a physical object? And that the consumption of the physical object brings with it an isomorphic psychological change?

We Want Stuff The Industrial Age, the age of earth, came after the Enlightenment, the age of fire. And it is clear how science and reason set the stage for all the marvelous technology of industry. The achievements of the Enlightenment were very exciting, but somewhat abstract, and so did not look like much. It is the movement from age to age, from principle to machine, that gave us something to look at.

Then with this new industrial speed, we had so much to look at. We have now a lot of stuff. Without effort, I can get a mug with anything I want on it and in it. So many, many objects.

As stated, matter is energy drawn into form by desire and objects are therefore crystalizations of desire. So we desire objects. And we want them because they radiate their energy, their love upon us. A statue painstakingly carved from marble can sit in one’s home for a very long time and continue to radiate, to unfold new dimensions. It took a lot of desire for it to get here. A mass-produced object, not so much.

Lacan’s objet petit a is the object of desire that is never attained, because once it is attained, the desire fades. But the more something is wanted, the longer it can radiate its magic upon us once we have it. Things that take longer or are harder to find are obviously going to stoke more desire, and radiate for longer once they are in our apartments.

Because goods are produced so fast, we have to compensate for this through artificial anticipation: a culture of drops. The new sneaker is about to come out, better cop at launch. A Funko Pop based on a guy I like will be released shortly—I had better be the first to click. The Funkos are terrific examples because of their monstrously dead eyes and immobile bodies, and their interchangeability implying disposability, though the character they represent is always predicated on some attachment. We loved him, once, didn’t we? When we saw him in the show, and he surprised and delighted us? If only I could have a reminder of that in my home. Yet once the package arrives we just set him onto the shelf and expect him to do all the work. We do not vivify these collectibles; the sneakers are too nice to wear out, so we put them on display. The Funkos often do not even escape their sad little boxes.

When a child plays with toys, they nurture the object so it can continue radiating itself upon them. The beloved toy is another being, an animate partner, and they continue to want it even though they have it, because the breath of life comes into it, and it continually creates new experiences. It is born anew through play. This resembles certain rituals of old, where the cosmic origin is recreated, and the human participants are born anew with the world. The creation of the world is constant, it is only whether we care to be involved again. Spirit is breathing its love into matter always, always.

#astrology #earth epoch #industrial age #mundane astrology #taurus #libra #venus #stuff #materialism #funko pops #garbage #objet petit a #play #toys #statues #earth age

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 53

Wasil (One Who Has Reached)

Wasil denotes a hero of spirituality who has reached the final point in the journey made to attain perfect knowledge of God and is meticulously careful to follow His decrees in parallel with the profundity of that knowledge. A wasil has also reached the highest point on the horizon of the heart and spirit, where he or she can observe the Divine manifestations. In Turkish, such an individual is also called an eren (one who has attained and been matured, or one with perfect attainment).

With the term wasil, we indicate a hero of truth whose particular efforts have been crowned with particular aid, and whose particular instances of turning to God and devotions with particular sainthood, and who has therefore been honored with an indescribable nearness to God. A wasil is a sincere one who is continuously drawn toward God in spiritual raptures, and who has programmed his or her will to reach and meet with the Ultimate Truth. Such a one is also a guide who leads others to God without any deviation.

My star was dim and my fortune did not smile on me;

All the days of my life were passing in darkness. But it was a day when one with perfect attainment came to my aid, Then I lived glorious days, and I experienced happy ages. Whether during journeying or upon reaching the horizon of meeting with God, a wasil is extraordinarily meticulous in God’s orders and prohibitions, and tries his utmost to perform the duties of worship fully, constantly considering His inconceivable Grandeur. Even though they are completely sincere and earnest in their devotions, still they tremble with fear that they are unable to observe their duties toward God. With sensitivity proportionate to their efforts, and with a transcending profundity, they do their best to carry out their responsibilities. Such sincere and profound devotions and continuous, earnest efforts receive extra favors from God Almighty. As stated in the Prophetic Tradition, whose meaning is directly from God, When I love him, I become his power of hearing with which he hears, and his power of sight with which he sees,[1] the Almighty, with ever-flowing gifts, makes the wasil hear what will be heard and see what will be seen, and has such a one travel around the station of being loved by Him to reach horizons where the wasil will fully grasp the things which are pleasing to Him.

Though all those who have reached the final point discussed have common perfections, it is a reality that there are some significant differences among them with respect to the specific nature and relative comprehensiveness of their attainments.

Some of them are in unceasing rapture, drowned in the experience of being in the constant company of God, and lead their life fixed on their target with their intellect, logic and reasoning under the direction and protection of Divine manifestations. Any deviation from their target is out of the question, for since their being or self- consciousness has been burned away with the rays of the Divine “Face,” they cannot see, hear, or feel anything other than Him and they live in constant spiritual intoxication. Their intoxication is to the extent that they never think of calling at the shores of sobriety or the quays of carnal reason. It can actually be said that even if they want to think of doing so, they are unable to. It is true that some certain temperaments who have reached this rank have suffered some confusion, but this has rarely taken place. Some among this rank may lose their power of reason, which makes humans responsible for their acts, simply because of the intensity of their feelings of attraction toward God; thus, some of their resulting attitudes, words, and acts may be contrary to the rules of Shari’a. The utterances of Jibali Baba,[2] for instance, and words such as, “There is nothing but God in my cloak!”, “Glory be to me, how grand I am in respect of my essential qualities!”, and “I am the Truth!”—which were uttered by Bayazid al-Bistami,[3] Junayd al-Baghdadi,[5] and Mansur al-Hallaj, respectively, men who were considered to be among the greatest figures of the Sufi way—and other similar statements are effectively attributable to the intensity of the feeling of attraction and to their spiritual intoxication.

Contrary to the exhaustion and calmness caused by unions in physical terms, a wasil is always active, as if programmed to act, observe, love, and learn incessantly. This is why there is a continuity in the relationship of the wasil’s spiritual life with eternity, while carnal love dies away because of this union. The spiritual union or meeting with God at the end of the spiritual journeying is so different that its pleasure continues to deepen more and more; one who has reached this point experiences ever new instances of union, as if favored with union at every moment. Nasimi[5] voices this kind of union, which is the highest point to be reached for a traveler toward God, as follows:

The place where I am has developed into no-space; This body of mine has become a soul completely; God’s Sight has manifested Itself to me; And I have seen myself intoxicated with His meeting. A call has come to me from the Truth: “Come, O lover, you have intimacy with Us! This is the place of intimacy; I have seen you as a faithful one!” In order to be able to reach this point, a very important factor for the traveler, in addition to a particular aspect of human free will, is a feeling of attraction toward God. It is said that a feeling of attraction toward God, the Ultimate Truth, is actually better than the act of worship formally carried out by humanity and the jinn, and this has been circulated among the saints to emphasize that the feeling of attraction toward God is a means of God’s nearness, which both humans and jinn can attain through repeated, regular worship.

The feeling of attraction sometimes comes as a Divine favor in return for an initiate’s sound intention and steadfastness to reach God, and it serves them for reaching the heaven of perfections in an instant. At other times, it happens in order to save initiates from the troubles of journeying, as God Almighty favors them with the partial or particular manifestation of the truth stated in, All-Glorified is He Who took His servant for a journey by night (17:1), carrying them to the point where they can experience God’s nearness according to their capacity. In whatever way it occurs, there can be no doubt that this feeling of attraction is a gift from the All-Merciful.

In one of his poems in his Diwan Kabir, Jalalu’d-Din ar-Rumi describes an instance of meeting with God, which he attained through such a feeling of attraction, as follows:

The mount of love of meanings has taken away both my reason and heart. Ask me where it has taken them. It has taken them somewhere beyond which you cannot know. I have reached under an arch where there is no moon, nor skies. I have arrived in such a world that it is no longer a world. When the All-Beloved Soul appears like the Canopus[6] from the side of the Pillar of the Yemen[7] beyond all terms of quality and quantity, no longer does the moon, nor the sun, nor the pole of the seven heavens remain. The lights of the All-Beloved Soul overwhelm all of them. The ascension toward God and meeting with Him which was achieved by the great saints, according to the capacity of each, is a manifestation of the Ascension of the Messenger of God and his meeting with God, which is expressed by Suleyman Chelebi[8] as follows:

At that moment, the Divine Being manifested Himself in such overflow that There was no longer space or the heavens. The difference between the ascension and meeting with God that is achieved by great saints who follow in the footsteps of the Messenger, which are a manifestation of his Ascension and meeting with Him, compared to the Messenger’s own Ascension and meeting with God, is as great as the difference between a saint and the Messenger.

Among those who have reached the final point of nearness to God are others who, having drowned in the spiritual experience where the existence of all things and beings including themselves is annihilated in the Eternally and Truly Existent One’s Own existence, crown self- annihilation in the ocean of annihilation with a return to life in the horizon of sobriety. They do so in order to be able to have others feel the spiritual pleasures they have achieved, through the windows of the states and stations they have attained, and thus they share the favors that have been accorded to them with those souls that are capable of receiving. Thus, as a requirement of being heirs to the mission of Prophethood, they graciously return among us.

These noble servants of the Ultimate Truth are extremely meticulous in observing the Divine orders and prohibitions, both at the beginning and end of their journeying. They never display attitudes or make utterances which do not conform to the rules of the Shari’a, either in their experiences of attraction toward God, or in the peaks of their disclosures and observations of the Divine truths where the lights of the Divine Face burn away everything. Without exhibiting any attitude that is irreconcilable with servanthood to God, they always try their utmost to carry out whatever servanthood to God requires their willpower to do, as decreed in, And (continue to) worship your Lord until what is certain ( death) comes to you (15:99). They carry out their duties of service according to the depth of their knowledge of God and love of Him, and commensurate with their experiences of attraction. They prefer being servants at the door of the Ultimate Truth to all other achievements and stations, and they always give precedence to servanthood to Him over the rewards that come from Him. Regarding their knowledge of Him as insufficient on any given occasion, they emphasize their inability to give due thanks for God’s favors to them. Saying, “We have not been able to worship You as worshipping You requires, O Worshipped One,” they confess that they have not been able to do anything worthy of mention in the name of worshipping God. With the words, “We have not been able to know You as knowing You requires, O Known One,” they excuse themselves for their lack of sufficient capacity of knowing God. And by uttering, “We have not been able to thank You as thanking You requires, O Thanked One,” they sigh with a deep sense of shame as they are unable to give due thanks for the limitless favors of the All- Favoring.

These people of great stature are extraordinarily self-possessed, exceptionally aware, and full of feelings of fear and awe, even when carrying out their duties with the deepest commitment and responsibility. It can be said that their inner worlds are best pictured and manifested by the Divine declaration,Who do whatever they do and give whatever they give in charity and for God’s cause, with their hearts trembling at the thought that they are bound to return to their Lord (remaining anxious, for they are unsure whether God will accept from them and be pleased with them). It is those (illustrious ones) who hasten to do all kinds of virtuous deeds, and they are in a virtuous competition with one another in doing them (3:114). In any case, God knows the ultimate truth in all matters.

O God! Show us the truth as truth and enable us to observe it, and show us falsehood as falsehood and enable us to avoid it. And bestow Your blessings and peace upon our master, Muhammad, whom You have chosen among all creation, made perfectly pure, and favored with Messengership, and on his Family and Companions, whom You have chosen and favored with blessings.

[1]al-Bukhari, “Riqaq” 38; Ibn Hibban, Sahih, 2:58.

[2] Jibali Baba is one of the saints who lived in Istanbul just before its conquest by the Turks in 1453, and died during the conquest. According to some, he is Jebe Ali Pasha, who was one of the saintly commanders of the Turkish army during the conquest. The district Jibali in Istanbul was named after him.

[3] Abu Yazid (Bayazid) al-Bistami (d. 804–874): One of the greatest Sufi masters. He was from Bastam, Iran. Junayd al-Baghdadi said: “Abu Yazid holds the same rank among us as Gabriel among the angels.” His life was based on self- annihilation and the practice of devotion.

[4] Junayd al-Baghdadi (830–910): One of the most famous early Sufi masters. He lived and died in Baghdad. He enjoyed great respect and was known as “the prince of those having knowledge of God.”

[5] Imadu’d-Din Nasimi (1369–1417): Azerbaijan’s outstanding poet of the fifteenth century, wrote in Azerbaijani Turkish along with Arabic and Persian. He was very accomplished in lyric poems.

[6] Canopus is the brightest star in the southern constellation of Carina, and the second brightest star in the night-time sky, after Sirius.

[7] The Pillar of the Yemen (Rukn Yamani) is the southern corner of the Ka’ba which faces Yemen.

[8] Suleyman Chelebi (1351–1422) is the writer of the famous Mawlid (whose original name is Wasilat an-Najat, meaning “The Means of Salvation”).

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #reverthelp #revert help #revert help team #help #islamhelp #converthelp #prayer #salah #muslimah #reminder #pray #dua #hijab #religion #mohammad #new muslim #new revert #new convert #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

[alovevigilante]

Life is really amazing if you stop to think about it. We have a myriad of energies and experiences to choose from. I’ve spent most of my life, in one to three energies at best: Meh, eh, and feh with variations of intensity. Now, I want to choose more, and better.

Love enables all kinds of experiences: people, who are all innately love, don’t always choose the love experience in their lives due to the 3D reality they perceive, making it their reality in most cases.

This is subject to a case by case basis. But most of us, even in the most dire of circumstances, can escape them with our thoughts. History has shown that time and time again with the heroes that have changed the course of the collective social consciousness’s momentum.

For example, mlk jr., Harriet Tubman, and others. They were so resolute in their thoughts and loving beliefs that their experience changed the course of history for the better just by their mere focus and fearless dedication to it. I want to be just like them. But I do it the way I know how, and can. And I contribute my love and sensibility through laughter, and writing my truth. That is my love, so that’s how I share it. We all have different ways of sharing our love. I admire the people who do share it from that place within themselves. And spread it all around to affect the planet. You can feel it, even if you’re not directly involved in real time. I still feel MLK jr. and Harriet Tubman’s love. Love is a never ending energy that we can tap into anytime we’d like. Just by the thinking about it, we can experience it. So I’m deciding right now, and right now and right now, to experience love.

I have to disagree with Julius Robert Mayer’s first law of thermodynamics, also known as Law of Conservation of Energy, that states that “energy can neither be created nor destroyed; energy can only be transferred or changed from one form to another.” *(1) I believe that we can and do create energy in a 5D sense, with our thoughts. (5th dimension being our thoughts within our mind that create the perceived world we see.) in the 5th dimensional realm we create thoughts and scenarios constantly that formulate feelings that turn into energy that can be measured (in waves), thereby making it its own legitimate dimension. When we act upon said thoughts that have been created by our minds, we are sharing that very created energy for a mutually shared experience. But not everyone experiences in the same way due to their individual filters and past experiences. So individual results will vary.

We can also dispel or eradicate energy, with our focus on the specific energy we choose to experience. Energy can be dispelled within our own perceptions in the 5D, and eradicated once it’s realized in the 3D. You can refocus on a better, more positive thought within your mood reach. Like right now, for example. One could be reading this, and calling me a lunatic for my theories. But in my chosen energy, mostly positive, I have decided to eliminate any negative backlash and pushback to one’s thoughts about my beliefs, therefore having it not affect my behavior in the slightest, unless I choose to allow it. It can happen if I’m not completely conscious of my thoughts.

But I do believe Julius Robert Mayer is correct when he states his law in a 3D sense (3D meaning the 3 dimensional world of form we have mutually created and share in the physical realm), that energy can neither be created or destroyed, because it has to go somewhere. So when someone creates the energy in their 5D thoughts, and gives it to another with their 3D actions (words or physical actions), and it’s not accepted by another, it has to remain with the creator until they can get rid of it themselves with their personal focus on a more positive thought, or pass the energy they created, either positive or negative, to someone else. That’s why it’s important to create only good energy with your thoughts, so that if another person doesn’t accept the energy you are offering, regardless of the emotional charge, you aren’t left with a negative feeling.

The fifth dimensional theory is palpable to all thinking humans, because the whole of us shares that very same thinking capability, therefore that dimension must exist and be shared. If we are capable of communicating thoughts, the thoughts must come from somewhere, and we all think in a similar biological fashion (in a literal sense, not figurative) therefore we are all experiencing that dimensional plane in the same way; perceiving life through our individual filters, and with our focus to specific things, and acting accordingly. We do not necessarily share the same thoughts, but we do share the same process of biologically creating the thoughts. The process of thought itself, is its own energetic entity, therefore contains an energy source, which is created by us. Thoughts formulate the potential energy to create the things into 3 dimensional form which is the kinetic energy, in action. That is how things are realized into the 3D. It goes from consciousness, measured in waves, to us being the catalysts for creation. But first the thoughts need to be created within consciousness to bring the concepts into being. I read a wonderful bbc article about consciousness and quantum physics. Feel free to check it out. It touches base on the study and the proposed link of the two: http://www.bbc.com/earth/story/20170215-the-strange-link-between-the-human-mind-and-quantum-physics

I only mention this because if we can create thoughts that create the life and interactions that we perceive, we have the ability to do better with our creations. The 5th dimension is shared, so it’s a common bond of humanity as a whole. There is no I, there is only we. We are all connected, and our thoughts affect and effect the whole, and do indeed matter to the betterment of all people. Cleaning up our thoughts, is what will change everyone and everything. It will effect how we interact with the world, and how we feel about ourselves and one another. Love does that. It’s the most powerful energy there is. Nothing can compare, or override it if coming from a genuine thought.

So, all that said, I want to focus solely on people who choose to experience love, and what they create: ie. music, dance, art, design, writing, sports, theater, movies, and building stuff, and all kinds of things that people who are inspired by love, do. It feels better.

And there’s more! There’s love in other ways too. For example, in service to humanity by helping, investing time, money and effort in kids, the elderly, animals, and in the environment we all share, even if it’s halfway around the world. It’s also investing in those in need, and those who have things to share too. Love affects, and effects all of us, and the lack of it does as well. Investment, if done properly, makes for a completely fulfilling life.

So, from now on I’m going to deliberately try to choose loving energies. Here are a few I’m trying out: kindness, caring, laughter, social involvement, and celebration of people. Cause I want to feel good, so that I can share it with others, and they can feel good too. It’s a way of life I hope catches on, and everyone becomes addicted to.

Everyone has their own definition of love. Choose yours, and test it out. Life is about experimentation. You are your own constant, even though as you evolve, your variables may change. And not everyone shares the same definition of love that you do. So seek and find your like-minded energies through the love that you are attracted to. See how it suits you. You can always switch it up.

People may judge you as crazy, or a joke. That is an indication that those people do not share your definition of love, or are not willing to share the same energy that you are choosing. That’s ok too. Depending on what you want to experience, you have a choice whether to accept their rejection, or move forward toward where there is love for you.

(Please note: this is not a personal rejection of you, because all people are love, so there’s nothing to reject. It is only a rejection of their perceived energy, and that only they can control, so it’s different.) So you do not have to take it personally if they don’t treat you with the respect you deserve, although it may feel badly at first. Sometimes people aren’t in a place to recognize or accept love. And that’s ok as well. You will learn eventually, that the love is where it feels good. So move toward that, and allow them to experience the energy that they have created, without issue.

It is essentially their choice, to accept or reject themselves, by entertaining the loveless energy that they themselves have created. Also important to note, that loveless energy is both perceived and felt, so it’s good if you care about the relationships you foster to continue frequent communication and definition without defensiveness. Intention, is important to people as well. All of these things, are best done in person, because the added element of technology creates a barrier to humanity that makes it difficult in deciphering true intention. So put down the phones and computers, and talk. You can tell by looking in one another’s eyes. Cause the eyes don’t lie.

This post isn’t meant to incite anger or hostility. And however you choose to define yourself, love and your life is your personal choice. You will get no argument from me in that regard anymore. I have learned my lesson trying to argue my theory of love with a person that didn’t agree with my stance. And arguing, isn’t love, or a loving energy, therefore making it a mute point on both ends. I didn’t like how that experience left me feeling, so I won’t do it again... I’m just pointing out an alternate way to happiness if you’d like to try it out. That’s it. No judgement of your personal life choices or definitions unless they are affecting people directly, which they do. They affect you.

I believe that life should be easy, and fun. Define it your way, and design it to your liking! Here’s to the love. ❤️😎💪

*(1.) My affiliation is being an observing and active member (simultaneously) of the human race for 46 plus years. My accreditation is the fact that I’m a thinking human being with thoughts, feelings, and beliefs. I’m a work in progress, still in the graduate school of life. I use myself as an energy experiment, majoring in my personal love to suit the whole of us, with a minor in ways to achieve our collective happiness, and I usually document my experiences according to my filter. I use my energetic experiences to support my theories. (No snark intended.)

I just found this great article on this very subject: https://www.authenticityassociates.com/the-quantum-mechanics-of-changing-thoughts/

#energy #energy theory #energy report #choose love #love matters #love manifestation #self reflection #self love #self care #self esteem #selfworth #self development #self improvement #science #thermodynamics #theoretical #love yourself #love you first #change your world #change your mind

[pynkhues]

Why does no one ever hold rio accountable for shooting dean? Like everyone hates Beth but nobody ever talks about rio almost killing Dean the father of her kids. Doing the same thing that everyone hated Beth for. Taking away rio form Marcus. Like rio almost took away Dean from his kids. I think it’s very hypocritical.

I think that there are quite a few things to unpack in that question, anon, and some of it I think is genuinely based on the way the story has played out, and the arcs of certain characters and plots, and how the chips ultimately fell with some of the themes and messaging. I also think personally though that some of it boils down to how some people within the audience feel about Rio, and some selective reading on his character and his dynamic with Beth overall.

So let’s explore that!

Prelude to a Bullet Wound

At the foundation of your ask is a pretty specific question I think about how the story depicts consequences, who it holds to account, and who is deserving or undeserving of those consequences overall. Even more specifically – although please correct me if I’m wrong! – is a question about how those consequences are dealt in the Dean x Beth x Rio dynamic.

And that’s actually a really tricky question, because I think a lot of the time we like to compare Beth and Dean’s relationship with Beth and Rio’s with the expectation that that comparison can ultimately be presented as a sort of check-list of does and does-not, which actually does the complexity of both relationships a disservice.

From history to dynamic to context to personalities to attraction, it’s all so fundamentally different when you’re talking about these two relationships, that when you start to talk about the betrayals within both of them (of which there are many in each), they’re actually pretty incomparable.

So this brings me to my first point.

Consequences, Crime and Punishment

I think one of the big misreads of this series from audiences is that Dean hasn’t been punished for what he’s done to Beth over the course of the show.

Because he actually has! Dean has been shot by Rio, like you said. He was briefly kicked out of the house, he was in a car accident, he was ousted from his own company and then he lost that company altogether, he was mugged and humiliated after trying to order a hitman, he watched his wife slip further and further away from him, had to start from the bottom in a new business, was sexually harassed by his boss then lost opportunities, and is now essentially being used as a patsy in a new criminal enterprise.

The thing is, Beth has never really been the one to punish him. She’s certainly made choices and done things that have humiliated him, but none of it was really an act to deliberately hurt him, more she made choices to be selfish in their relationship in a way she never had been (i.e. taking over Boland Motors, sleeping with Rio), but I’ll come back to that in a moment.

The fact that the story has punished Dean but Beth hasn’t is a really important distinction to make, and I think it’s crucial in unpacking both Beth and Dean, and Beth and Rio’s dynamic, as well as understanding some of the audiences hostility towards Dean’s storyline and why the audience doesn’t hold Rio accountable for shooting Dean in the first place.

It’s further underpinned, I think, by the fact that the show has rewarded Dean narratively with Beth’s forgiveness three times over (the first time being at the end of season 1 before the cancer lie was revealed, the second being the moment before Amber revealed Dean had cheated on her more than once in 2.05, and the third was with Beth’s seeming acceptance of Dean kissing Gayle [although I do think that would’ve come back up had we gotten all of s3]), and then placated him with her pity, fatigue, and the lies she’s told to keep him onside and out of her way.

It is exhausting. Dean is exhausting. The Boland marriage limping on season after season is exhausting. It’s also, I think, painfully realistic for a couple like Dean and Beth, who married at a formative age, and who’s foundation was built on Beth’s subservience, her desperate need for security and stability, and her willingness to dim her own light to brighten his.

A quick personal aside:

When my parents were in the dying days of their 30+ years relationship, their marriage counsellor told them that a relationship’s dynamic is really set within the first year of that relationship. You can change it after that, but it requires a lot of work and a deliberate effort to change that dynamic on many, many levels, and for many couples, it is too much work. It certainly was for my parents.

If you think about Beth and Dean in that context, it means that Beth’s energy with Dean is still somewhat stuck within a shell of being a neglected, private teenage girl trying to look after her sister and Dean being the son of a successful businessman, entitled with the knowledge he’d inherit that successful business one day.  

They are not those people anymore, and they both know it, but their relationship dynamic does play out that way. Dean will never see her as more than his to take care of, and Beth will forever fight the instinct to see Dean as the provider she never had growing up – something the show has addressed explicitly in many ways.

And the thing is, that’s not Beth and Rio’s relationship at all.

The foundations that they have built this thing between them on are both shakier and stronger, built on Beth’s need to survive in the moment and thrive in the future, and Rio seeing not the neglected teenage girl that Dean saw, but a fierce woman prepared to drag him for having the audacity to try and kill her in her own home.

Beth’s relationship with Dean is, in many ways, an essential component of Beth and Rio’s dynamic, simply because Beth won’t let Rio ever treat her the way Dean has and does. Beth holds Rio accountable in a way she doesn’t Dean (although very interestingly to me, she has at points looked to him to provide for her in the same way she’s looked at Dean), and it means she punishes Rio in a way she doesn’t punish Dean. She does this in no small part because Rio holds her accountable and punishes her in ways Dean doesn’t as well, simply because he expects so much more from her.

This is probably best encapsulated in 1.06, where Rio ups her drop (ergo, her degree of responsibility in the crime world) while Dean assumes she’s a victim, but it’s touched on routinely across the seasons.

Beth and Rio ultimately respect each other. Even when they’re deliberately undermining each other (usually Beth, haha) or deliberately condescending and patronising each other (usually Rio, haha), the basis of their relationship has been built on Beth showing promise, and Rio taking a chance, and grown into a complicated dynamic of control and autonomy, desire and fulfilment, want and approval, possession and abandonment, all playing out as some twisting, sexually charged game which, as I’ve said before, they both simultaneously want to win, and don’t want to play at all.

All of this means that where Beth and Dean are within a dynamic of placation and diminishment, Beth and Rio are constantly going toe-to-toe with each other either side of some line they’ve imagined up. It means they do hold each other accountable, that they ensure the other feels the consequences of their actions, that they never release their hold on the other (even if sometimes it looks like they do).

As a result though too, it does mean that that line can be crossed, and when it is, it’s almost always in a big, big way.

Uhhh, Sophie, this is a lot of meditating on Beth and Dean and Beth and Rio’s relationship for a question that was about why no one cares about Rio shooting Dean, but hates Beth for shooting Rio

Right! It is! But I also think it’s important in understanding why both acts had such different responses from audiences, and that namely boils down to the fact that I think most people saw, consciously or subconsciously, the act of Rio shooting Dean as a consequence of Dean’s behaviour, not of Beth’s, and therefore a punishment for Dean’s behaviour in the narrative overall, not a punishment of Beth.

Dean getting shot was a story-level punishment of Dean that felt earned.

It was Rio handling what Beth couldn’t, and it is satisfying to watch, particularly in the context of later seasons, because it does feel like a marked act of narrative accountability.

It’s just unfortunate that it resulted in so much of the fandom ignoring the fact that it was an incredibly harsh punishment to Beth, something that we’ve been dealing with ever since because it clearly made Beth feel like she couldn’t leave him during his treatment, and by the end of that treatment she had, once again, softened.

On the other hand, Rio getting shot by Beth was both a story-level and a character-level punishment that was ultimately unearned on either of those levels.

It’s not that it didn’t make sense in terms of the escalating push-pull dynamic that is so central to Beth and Rio’s relationship and chemistry, but that there wasn’t enough build-up for it – and Rio hadn’t done enough to deserve it – which in turn made the punishment not fit the crime (which is to say nothing of the racist optics of it). It was a damning act that, quite simply, didn’t work in the context of season 2 overall, and as opposed to criticising the writing choice, some fans chose to turn that into a hatred of Beth’s character.

A brief aside

I do always find it interesting that many of these same fans refuse to confront the fact that Beth and the girls have had relentless punishment at the hands of others – particularly Rio – since this show started, but that feels like a whole other post.

Smoke and mirrors

These two acts are interesting to look at in the context of these respective dynamics, but they’re actually not parallel events. In that sense, I actually find the act of Beth insinuating herself into Rhea and Marcus’ life a much more comparable act to Rio shooting Dean than Beth shooting Rio was.

They were different types of violence – a psychological one over a physical one – sure, but had the same underpinning themes of home invasion, involving each other’s families in the fucked-up dynamic between them, and revealing a degree of Beth and Rio’s intimacy to the other’s (ex)partner (Rio through touching Beth in front of Dean, Beth through the pregnancy lie meaning Rhea knew Beth and Rio had slept together). It also puts them both as instigators on similar playing fields. They were, after all, actions that both Beth and Rio sought out doing.

It makes for a really interesting parallel that I wish we all talked about more!

Beth shooting Rio on the other hand was a manifestation of a set-up and a betrayal, a kidnapping gone wrong, an effort to strongarm Beth into killing an FBI agent, and yeah. Not my favourite plot choice on the show, haha, so I absolutely understand why it isn’t others’ too.

A final note

Look, all story analysis aside – at the end of the day, a portion of the fandom woobifies Rio and loathes Dean too, which no doubt plays a large part in some people’s response to these two acts. You only need to look at the volume of Rio x Reader or Rio x OC fics on here and ao3 to see that there’s a big chunk of the fandom out there who projects other fantasies onto his character, which is, of course, entirely fine! It’s just a shame some of them choose to let that influence the way they view canon and publicly treat other characters on the show too.

#this is a long post folks #beth x dean #beth x rio #beth boland #rio #rhea #staying's worse than leaving #gg 2.01 #gg 2.13 #gg 3.01 #gg 3.02 #power plays #interior lives #checks and balances #sunday answers #Anonymous

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Welcome to the back (Part 10)

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Warning: I am trying not to romanticize Akumatization. Felix’s motives may be noble, but he’s still an akuma and not going easy on anybody. So don’t get your hopes up he might be a chivalrous bad boy who only punishes the evil guys.

- - -

Chat Noir had his baton at hand, camera opened and zooming in on what was happening. He didn’t want his Lady to get hurt, of course. Just to wait long enough that she truly appreciated his arrival.

“That was quick.”, Sentiquill said with raised eyebrows. “How did you...” His eyes widened. “Of course. Marinette still had her phone, right?”

He sighed and raised his quill as Ladybug swung into the room, planting herself between him and the students.

“You have bigger worries now, Sentiquill.”, the spotted heroine declared, then turned towards his terrified classmates. “You guys! Everybody out of here, and take Alya and Madame Bustier with you!”

The class hurried to comply, and Chat Noir purred with adoration. She was always concerned for others, looking out for everybody. It was so cute! Though he didn’t get why she hadn’t tried to lure Sentiquill outside. The classroom wasn’t ideal for a fight, space was limited and furniture created unnecessary hindrances. What was she thinking?

Sentiquill seemed confused as well, suspiciously taking a step back. Ladybug was known for her impossible traps and plans, it was only natural he’d be on edge.

“Felix”, Ladybug called him surprisingly gentle. Caring even. “Give me the quill. We can end this without a fight.”

Chat scowled. No fighting? Then how was he supposed to impress her? And why was she so sympathetic towards Felix of all people? She’d never talked to Chat like that! So... sweetly. It made his nose wrinkle in jealousy.

“Trying to reason with an Akuma, Ladybug? Unusual approach.”, Sentiquill commented, adopting a fighting stance. “What’s the reason for your sudden change of attitude? Gone pacifist overnight?”

“I know you can’t want this.”, his Lady continued unwavering. Did she know Felix personally? Did she visit him after patrol, now that she had forbidden Chat from accompanying her? His claws dug into the ground and bared his fangs when she continued.

“You’re a thinker.” The admiration in her voice made him sick. “You enjoy outsmarting people, you don’t like resorting to violence. Let me help you, please!”

His breathing hitched. Why was she- Why would- Didn’t she think of him at all?! She couldn’t just go around saying stuff like that! It was far too... intimate!

Sentiquill didn’t seem to share Chat’s opinion, instead of flustered, he looked furious.

“Help me?!”

In the blink of an eye he was moving, slashing his sword and shooting ink at Ladybug. She blocked it with her yo-yo, but the force of the attack hurled her through the window into the yard, where the rest of the class ran into hiding. She landed on her feet, sliding over the ground.

“You didn’t care to help Marinette either!”, Sentiquill roared. “All it would have taken was a single word of you and nobody would have listened to Lila ever again!”

“I know, and I regret this, but-“

“Then show it!”

Sentiquill followed her, attacked with his blade from every angle. Ladybug could barely keep up with blocking his slashes with the string of her yo-yo.

“Come on, tell them the truth!”, Sentiquill snarled and gave her a shove that sent her against a wall. “Tell them who Lila really is!”

The students leaned out of their hideouts, curious for what was going on despite the danger. Chat stiffened. Surely she wouldn’t... Ladybug knew how important it was to leave Lila in peace, didn’t she? She wouldn’t say anything rash now, would she?

Ladybug got up again, a fearsome scowl on her face.

“You think Marinette cares about that now? She wants her friend back!”

A bitter laugh got over her lips, so untypical for her Chat leaned back a little.

“But fine! I couldn’t like Lila less! She’s a dirty liar, we’re not best friends and I would be more than glad if she left Paris again. Happy now?”

The yard was dead silent. If Lila was still hiding somewhere, Chat couldn’t see her. He was flabbergasted. Had Ladybug just... Was she insane?! Oh fuck, he should have joined the fight when it hadn’t been too late yet. Now his carefully protected, unproblematic school life would be completely out of control!

Sentiquill laughed in disbelief.

“Why, thank you, Ladybug! I didn’t expect you to actually do that for me.”

He smiled, genuinely. If Chat hadn’t still been so rattled, he would have hissed in disgust.

“I appreciate the effort. Alas...”

His face darkened.

“Too little, too late. The damage is done, and I’ll set things right again.”

He raised his sword.

“Let’s see which dark secrets hide behind that little mask of yours.”

He pounced again, ink swirling through the air. Ladybug held her own skillfully, dodging his slices at her sides, dancing around the ink torrents he sent her way and blocking the thrusts of his blade. Before he realized it, Sentiquill was dangerously low on ink. Hectically he looked around for a potential victim and made a run for Rose, who had leaned out of the girl’s bathroom a little too far. Before he could reach her, Ladybug’s yo-yo wrapped around his foot and kept him in place. That’s when she spotted him on the roof.

“Chat Noir!”, she shouted without sparing Chat a second glance, eyes fixed on her opponent. “Finally!”

Not the greeting he had hoped for. Ugh! This whole day was a disaster, nothing went as planned! Couldn’t life go his way just this once?!

“His quill’s ink comes from negativity others carry!”, Ladybug informed him of what he already knew. “You need to get the civilians out of the way!”

That’s all she wanted of him? Not to fight by her side, to protect her from Felix, but to play savior for classmates he already protected from their own carelessness as Adrien? Who would doubtlessly create nothing but chaos now that Lila was exposed? No, he didn’t think so!

Angry, Chat stood on the roof and watched Ladybug. She really was getting arrogant these days, yelling at him to leave her alone and then expecting him to follow her every command. A decision formed in his mind and he crossed his arms. It wouldn’t do any real harm if he left her to deal with this alone, would it? Miraculous Ladybug always cured everyone anyway. So why not teach her a lesson?

“Wonderful morning to you as well, My Lady!”, he hissed sarcastically. “I thought we shouldn’t work together until absolutely necessary?”

Her face fell. She was still fighting to keep Sentiquill in place, who was hacking at her weapon with his quill. Revenge truly is sweet.

“Chat, this is not the time to-“

“Exactly!”, he interrupted her smugly. “Now is not the time it’s necessary.”

With a satisfied grin he dropped on his butt, watching cross legged as her grip on Sentiquill loosened and he ripped himself free.

Rose had started to run, abandoning her hideout to escape to Juleka. The taller girl was hiding behind the stairs and hectically waved her girlfriend closer.

But Rose had no chance to outrun an Akuma.

When Sentiquill stabbed the hilt of his quill into her back, her scream was drowned out by Juleka’s.

Chat flinched, but forced himself to stay put. He had to do this, Ladybug forced him to. If she didn’t learn to respect him more now, she’d only harm their teamwork and therefore endangered Paris in the long run.

Yes, Chat Noir was in the right. She’d understand that, eventually.

This occupied with his own righteousness, he didn’t notice his ring beginning to pulse in a green glow, reacting towards its wielder’s deeds. Fused with his chosen, a Kwami could not consciously act on their own. But every one of them could feel if their power was abused, it changed their aura in the fabric of reality itself. The change might not be noticeable to humans, but fellow Kwamis would feel it instantly, just like they had felt it with the very first akuma.

Four thousand meters away, a little green creature snapped out of his slumber and flew to his master, warning him of the danger it sensed. The guardian’s eyes closed in resignation as he stood up, ready to do what was necessary.

They had lost Nooroo.

They could not afford to lose Plagg.

-

Ladybug in the meantime was despairing. Juleka had jumped out of hiding to help her girlfriend, who was forced to whimper about being a burden to everyone as Sentiquill dragged her innermost fears to light. If Ladybug tried to save Rose, she’d make herself vulnerable for an attack and Sentiquill had the chance to go after Juleka instead. So she had to make the unfair, horrible choice and intercepted Juleka, stopping her before she could get too close.

“Stay hidden!”, she tried to calm her, “I’ll take care of everything!”

“Rose! ROSE!”, Juleka yelled, not listening. With a groan Ladybug lifted the struggling girl up and ran towards the next classroom in which she found Nathaniel and Mylène, standing protectively over Alya’s and Bustier’s unconscious bodies.

“Take care of her!”, she ordered as she pushed Juleka inside. “Don’t let her out and stay hidden! Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”, Nathaniel hurried to assure her. According to his intimidated face, she was sounding harsher than expected. She nodded and closed the door again, turning back to the yard. There was no time to think of a plan, however, because Sentiquill’s ink was already all around her before she could fully face him. At the very last moment she managed to jump up the wall and somersault into safety, milliseconds before the black torrents crashed down on the place she had been a moment ago. She had no time to get to her bearings, Sentiquill’s blade coming at her from left and right.

“Chat!”, she screamed for her partner, desperately trying to avoid getting hit. Rose was laying on the ground a few meters away, drained and crying. How could Chat Noir abandon her like this?! “Stop this nonsense and help me!”

The other hero only crossed his arms and pouted.

“I’m not sure if you really mean that. What’s the magic word?”

She was on the brink of tears when Sentiquill started to laugh at her.

“Looks like Marinette isn’t the only one with friends who won’t stand up for her.”, he said almost pitifully as he brought his blade down on her. “You truly have a prick of a partner, Ladybug. My sincere condolences.”

She ducked to escape the blow, only to be kicked in the chest when she came up again. The impact sent her crashing into a wall again, and she had to cough a few times before being able to breathe again. If it hadn’t been for her magically strengthened suit, she would’ve had a few broken ribs.

To her surprise, Sentiquill allowed her a few seconds of calm to turn towards her par- Chat Noir. In a single, fluid motion he thrusted the Quill in his direction, creating a blizzard of ink headed straight for the treacherous cat. He barely had the time to take out one of his batons, which was promptly knocked out of his hand. The metallic clang told Ladybug it landed somewhere on the upper walkway, out of her sight. Chat Noir screamed when the ink hit him and knocked him straight into the nearest chimney. Cursing, he got up and searched for cover as Sentiquill’s attention shifted back to Ladybug.

“See this as my thanks for exposing Lila earlier.”, he stated matter-of-fact and pointed his sword at her. “Now give me your Miraculous!”

Ladybug inhaled and stood up straight.

This was going to be a long day.

-

Sentiquill was vicious. She was still shaken from being thrown into a wall - again! - and without Chat at her side she was quickly loosing ground. Her supposed partner had started to watch from the sidelines again, continuing to ask- no, demand that she apologized and begged for his help. As if she was some kind of stubborn, disobedient pet.

She was all but sobbing in frustration when Sentiquill cornered her at a wall, with no chance of cover.

“Come on, My Lady!”, Chat patronized her like a parent would a toddler. “You’ll only end up hurt if you keep this up. Just say it already!”

She’d never regarded Chat Noir as anything other than a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Right now, however, the feeling that burnt in her lungs was dangerously close to hate.

“Please!”, she swallowed down her pride and fought back tears. “I’m sorry for rejecting you! Please help me!”

Sentiquill towered over her, his gleaming blade at her throat. He could hear their conversation, but he couldn’t see from which direction Chat Noir could attack without taking his eyes off of Ladybug - who would use every chance to escape. Behind him on the roof, Chat Noir got up and stretched.

“As you wish, My Lady!”, he beamed smugly and raised his hand. “Cataclysm!”

Sentiquill smiled, just when Chat jumped down on them. Only now she realized he hadn’t been looking at her. The Akuma had watched Chat’s reflection in his blade.

It was too late to warn him. Chat - rash as always - was already descending, his sparking claws aimed at their opponents back. In the last second, Sentiquill moved aside, just when the cataclysmic hand came down on them, not able to stop or avert its course - which now aimed for Ladybug on the floor. He was going to hit her.

She was going to be cataclysmed.

She was going to die, at Chat Noir’s hands.

She didn’t, of course. But it was close. Chat Noir, eyes wide with terror, had pulled his hand aside just when Ladybug had flinched in fear, missing her head by a hairs breadth. Instead, he touched the ground beneath them.

Ladybug recovered first from the shock, rolling aside and throwing her yo-yo around a chimney to pull her to safety. Chat Noir wasn’t as quick. He was still frozen in place when the ground and part of the wall behind them began to crumble, before breaking through completely. He screamed when he fell into the cellar, and then again when he was hit by debris.

“My jaw!”, she heard out of the newly created hole. Carefully, she inched her way foreword. The ground seemed stable enough now - Chat less so. He was back down on the bottom of the whole, trapped by the bricks and concrete debris that covered him. One piece had hit him right into the face, effectively breaking his jaw.

He was yelling and wailing, unable to move beneath all this debris. If it hadn’t been for his suit, he would be dead now, no doubt about it. His ring gave a weak blink and made peeping sounds. Time was running out!

“Take his Miraculous!”, she could hear Hawkmoth’s voice and turned around to see Sentiquill standing over the hole as well, a violet butterfly outline in front of his face. He shrugged.

“That one’s out of commission, he’s not going anywhere. Let him suffer a bit.”

His blood red eyes fixated her.

“For now, I’ll take care of the bug first.”

She had no chance. He was faster than her, and her yo-yo was a limited defense against a sword. Without any hope of back up she was as good as defeated. Still. When he finally hit her with his nib, she was surprised anyway - for a second, at least. Then, her mind and body went numb.

”Gotcha!”, Sentiquill mocked her with her own catchphrase. “Now, show us how perfect Paris’ hero truly is!”

The sensation was... terrifying. Control of her body was stolen from her as his power rummaged through her mind, finding all her dark, hidden places and tearing them out of her.

“I... I am scared... that I’m alone.”, she pressed out between clenched teeth, trying to fight his spell.

In vain.

“That I have to carry all this responsibility alone a-and mess up. I’ll disappoint everyone.”

She closed her eyes as darkness rose around her, feeding into Sentiquill’s weapon. He scoffed, before giving her a malicious smirk.

“Oh, but you already have.”, his painfully familiar voice dictated. The words seeped into her mind, trying to take root. She couldn’t let that happen, she knew it was a trick. The people he drained sank into a despair of his making, it was just Hawkmoth’s magic!

“You currently are, and you won’t stop being a single great disappointment.”, he finished, breaking through her mental defenses. She flinched, realizing he was right. She... had lost. She had been abandoned by her partner, her best friend was fighting her and she was... too weak to save him. Useless.

”You had your fun, Sentiquill.”, Hawkmoth’s voice commented. “Now take her miraculous.”

His champion nodded, but didn’t seem as if he had quite enough yet.

”Anything else you want to fail at?”, he asked her gleefully. “Keeping your identity secret, for example?” He laughed when she lowered her head.

“Come on, tell us who you really are, beneath all that false glamor!”

“I’m...”, her voice began, part of her still trying to resist. “I-I am... Ma-“

A loud clang startled her and Sentiquill’s sword was knocked out of his hand by a flash of silver. He jumped back in surprise and looked at the object that had hit him: a silver staff, clearly belonging to a certain Cat. But Chat was buried beneath tons of debris! Who had...?

She looked around and her eyes, blurry with unshed tears, focused on a splotch of yellow on the metal walkway. Was that... Chloé?

“Hey, Leanne!”, the reckless girl yelled and flung her hair over her shoulder. “Stop being such an obnoxious bastard and get away from the Lady!”

She grinned, propping her chin up on one hand and giving him her most judgmental glare.

“You’re acting utterly ridiculous.”

An angry snarl came from Sentiquill as he picked up his sword and jumped up to the walkway, cornering her. Chloé didn’t even look at him, instead leaned over the handrail to wave at her in excitement.

“Hey, Ladybug”, she greeted without a care in the world. “It’s me, Chloé! Did you see that throw?! Just miraculous, wasn’t it?”

Sentiquill towered behind her like an angry bull, but she only spared him an annoyed glance.

“Oh shoo, get away from me with that ugly hat! Who designed your outfit?! It looks like a toddler made it!”

The violet outline returned to his face.

“Stab her, now!”, Hawkmoth shrieked, having temporarily forgotten about Ladybug. Not that it was of much use to her. She was beaten and on the ground. There was no way she’d get up now. She was a failure, a lost cause.

And so she could only watch as Sentiquill raised his sword and hit Chloé with the nib of the hilt.

“If that isn’t a whole lot of dark thoughts you have. Care to share them, Bourgeois?”

Chloé contorted her face in pain, but didn’t flinch when the inky swirls rose around her.

“I don’t know how to act around the others, after all that I’ve done.”, she admitted openly, with no sign of being forced to. “I don’t want to disappoint Ladybug, and I certainly don’t want to become like my mom. But i can’t apologize either, I don’t know how. And I hate feeling vulnerable like that; to be at the mercy of other’s judgement.”

Sentiquill scoffed, ready to fill her with his poisonous words as he had with Ladybug.

“It’s in vain, Chloé, and you know it. You already are just as horrible and worthless as your mother, and Ladybug is fully aware of that. That’s why she took away your Miraculous for good.”

Ladybug knows what came next; she was experiencing it herself, after all. The doubt, the pain, the horrible knowledge to be useless.

But Chloé surprised her. Instead of crumbling under his scorching glare, she looked him straight in the eye, chin up and back straightened.

“I don’t believe you.”, she declared confidently. “I know my worth. You’ve all already seen me at my worst, and I’ve dealt with Hawkmoth and Mayura at the same day. Your ridiculous power doesn’t impress me, Felix.”

Sentiquill let go of her, visibly taken aback. It took him a moment before he could collect himself.

“Pah.”, he played her resistance off. “Your confidence is admirable, for someone this...”

He trailed off. His gaze had wandered behind Chloé and downwards, where Marinette’s earlier ink prison stood. Ladybug gulped. Now that he was on the walkway, in an elevated position, he could look right inside the cylindrical cell.

“Empty...”, he whispered, his hands clenching to fists. Then he pounced, landing right on the walls to check every angle. “Empty! Where is she? Where is Marinette?!”

He looked around, eyes rabid with fury, searching for the rest of the class.

“Who of you took her?! TELL ME!”

Ladybug flinched as she watched him slice the prison into shards of dried ink, his angry roar echoing off the walls of the yard.

“Don’t get distracted!”, Hawkmoth tried to command. “Give me Ladybug’s Miraculous, now!”

“Shut up! Where is Marinette?!”, Sentiquill yelled back, his sword hacking at bare stones now. He caught sight of Nino, hidden beneath the stairs, who was filming everything with his phone. He growled and stomped towards him, but before he could even take two steps, a flash of purple covered his hand and he screamed in pain. What had happened? Was Hawkmoth punishing him?

She didn’t have time to ponder. In the meantime, Chloé had managed to run down the stairs and shout orders at the rest of the class, before dashing over to Ladybug. The fallen heroine groaned in pain when she was picked up and pulled to the side of the yard.

“Come on, Ladybug!”, Chloé muttered, panting under the weight of her idol. “You gotta kick his ass! Get up already!”

Ladybug closed her eyes, resigned.

“I can’t.”, she whispered. “I’m sorry! I’ve disappointed you. I... can’t.”

Chloé pouted, hands on her hips.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course you can!”

She shook her head. Useless, worthless, abandoned.

“Okay, I’ll definitely feel bad about this later.”, Chloé sighed. Then she slapped her - hard!

“Ow!”, she yelled and sat up straight. “What the-“

”Stop the nonsense right there, Ladybug! Look at me, I’m still on my feet as well. If I can fight him, you can do it too!”

”But...”, she protested, still halfway under the spell. “I failed! I’m alone and... I failed.”

Exasperated, Chloé rolled her eyes.

“You haven’t failed yet, and you’re not alone. Look!”

She gestured at the yard, where her classmates had come out of hiding. Some were armed with brooms or mops, Markov flew around clutching a wrench twice his size while Max was carrying an unconscious Rose to safety. Kim had Alix on his shoulders, who held a spray can in each hand and looked ready to bite her way through to Sentiquill. Next to them was Nino, rotating his headphones like a lasso - or like her yo-yo! And was that a knife in Sabrina’s hand?! Where had that come from?!

Chloé flipped back her ponytail, obviously proud.

“We’re all with you. Now get up or my knees will get dusty.”

Ladybug smiled as the last bit of darkness faded from her. It felt like breathing after being underwater for too long.

“We can’t have that, now, can we?”, she chuckled and stood up. “Thanks, Chloé. You did great!”

The blonde blushed and swatted her hand through the air.

“A-alright, alright, I know I’m awesome. Do your thing!”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Now that she was free of Sentiquill’s influence, he would get his ass handed to him on a silver platter!

“Lucky Charm!”, Ladybug yelled and threw her yo-yo, only to catch a long, rectangular box.

“Aluminum foil?”, she wondered when she opened it. How would that help her?

She looked around. Her eyes fell on Ivan and Kim, on Alix’ skaters, then on a table next to the hole Chat Noirs cataclysm had caused. It was missing two legs thanks to the crumbled wall, but maybe...? She looked to the other side, then to Chloé in front of her.

Handrail. Nino’s phone case. Sunlight. Sabrina on the walkway. Quill. Chloé’s sunglasses. Aluminum foil!

“Yes!”, she cheered, then pulled Chloé closer. “I need your help! And your sunglasses!”

The blonde all but sparked with excitement.

“Aye, Aye, Ladybug!”

-

“Sentiquill!”, Ladybug called her opponent, who had only recently recovered from Hawkmoth’s punishment. Since then, he’d been busy defending himself from all kinds of objects that were hurled at him from a safe distance. Whenever he tried to attack one of the students, the others would step in with even more things to throw. They were no match for his sword, of course - it simply sliced through the stones and metals with ease - but it had slowed him down, irritated him. Now however, her preparations were complete. It was time to bring Sentiquill down and get her Felix back!

“Time to end this!”

“Finally something we can agree on!”, he snapped back, quill at the ready. She smiled grimly and put on the sunglasses, then went in for the attack. She was lighter on her feet, this time, her steps elevated by the knowledge her friends had her back. She dove underneath the first blow and jabbed at his face, but he dodged and jumped back a little. They danced around each other in a dangerous game of a fight, a competition to see who would show weakness first. He didn’t notice she was maneuvering him closer and closer to the stairway.

“Now!”, she gave the signal when she had him where she wanted. Sabrina nodded and raised her hand, Nino’s phone case in her hand. It was wrapped in Aluminum foil and reflected the sun like a mirror, blinding the fighters below. Well, one of them, at least. Chloé’s sunglasses allowed Ladybug to get the upper hand and she dealt a rapid series of blows and kicks to his torso. Enraged, Sentiquill blindly slashed in the direction of Sabrina, shooting ink at her. A grave mistake! Chloé pulled her friend out of the way in time, and now Sentiquill had left his sword hand wide open. With all her weight Ladybug threw herself against him and hurled him forwards, until his sword slipped between two bars of the stair’s handrail.

“What the-“, Sentiquill begun but never finished. He had caught sight of his impeding doom in form of three students and a table with roller blades.

“Here I come!”, Alix announced from on top of the table, which had its two remaining front legs tugged in her skates. Behind her, Ivan and Kim high-fived before giving the improvised battering ram a strong shove. It scooted down the stairs towards the exposed broadside of the Akuma’s quill.

“Razzle Dazzle!”, Alix cheered when the table crashed into the metal, shattering it in two.

Sentiquill sank to the ground as his power was drained from him and the corrupted butterfly broke free of his quill’s shards. Triumphant, Ladybug opened her yo-yo.

“Enough evil doing for you today, little Akuma. Time to de-evilize!”

She spun around herself to gather momentum, then threw her yo-yo and let it snap shut around the troublesome akuma.

“Gotcha! Bye bye little butterfly.”

Relieved, she released the purified butterfly into the sky, then she held her hand out towards Nino. Sabrina had returned his phone to him, and now he happily removed the Aluminum wrap from its case.

“That was a close one, dudette!”

She sighed and weighed the balled foil in her hand.

“It really was. Miraculous Ladybug!”

Pink and red lights flashed over the sky, then swirled around the school. Broken doors and windows repaired themselves, ink stains vanished from the walls. The hole in the ground was closed by the Cure as well, just like the adjacent wall. The door towards the other classroom opened and Nathaniel and Mylène came out, followed by a cured Alya and their teacher. Juleka flung her arms around Rose’s neck, who nearly cried into her black shirt. Everyone was unharmed again. Well... almost everyone.

Ladybug stepped next to Sentiquill the moment the purple smoke around him faded, turning him back into Felix.

“What... What happened?”, he asked confused, holding his head. His eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. “Where’s Marinette?!”

“Don’t worry.”, she calmed him, hiding her euphoria at having him back behind a soothing smile. “She’s alright. How are you feeling?”

He blinked, looking at the repaired pen in his hand.

“I’m... fine, I think. Why does Sabrina have a knife?”

Ladybug’s smile turned forced.

“I‘m afraid to ask, if I’m being honest.”

-

A floor further down, Adrien beat the dust out of his clothes and rubbed his freshly healed jaw. Miraculous Ladybug had closed the gaping hole above his head only seconds before his transformation ran out, keeping his identity a secret once again. That aside, this akuma attack had been a single disaster.

“I can’t believe it”, he muttered. “She just left me lying down here! I was hurt and bleeding, and Ladybug doesn’t even come to look after me.”

He groaned.

“This day is a catastrophe! I almost had her admitting she needs me, and then everything went south! That stunt with my Cataclysm? Lord, that was so embarrassing! A rookie mistake; I was looking like an idiot. Do you think she’s still mad at me, Plagg?”

Only silence answered him and he turned to search for his Kwami.

“Plagg?”

The tiny creature floated motionless in front of him, eyes hard as granit and his face absolutely expressionless. Adrien shrank under his burning gaze.

“Look, I know I should have intervened earlier.”, he tried to appease him. Plagg’s expression was creeping him out. “But I already got my punishment, didn’t I? Ladybug exposed Lila, and now school is going to be so much drama. Lesson learned.”

His Kwami was still silent. Slowly Adrien started to get nervous. Sweat was forming on his forehead and he was going for a shifting of blame before he fully realized it.

“It’s not like it was all my fault, you know?”, he desperately tried to fill the quietness. “If Ladybug hadn’t slapped me the last time, we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess!”

His words sounded eerily close to what he’d said about Marinette earlier, he noticed.

“I just wanted her to learn how to treat her partner better! I’ll be nicer next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”, a commanding voice behind him declared. “And you are in no position to teach Ladybug a single thing.”

Adrien whirled around, raising his hand.

“Claws out!”, he yelled before remembering Plagg hadn’t eaten yet. There would be no transformation any time soon. Realizing his defenselessness, he swallowed and looked at the figure that had ambushed him. As if on cue, it stepped out of the shadows, revealing...

“Master Fu?”

Adrien almost fainted in relieve.

“Oh god, you gave me the scare of my life! What’s the matter? Any new potions to deliver?”

The guardian didn’t blink. Instead he raised his hand, expectantly.

“You have forsaken your partner. You have willfully sacrificed a civilian in order to punish Ladybug. You have abused your powers by choosing inaction for the sake of revenge.”

Adrien gulped when Fu came closer.

“I cannot risk Ladybugs safety anymore. Give me your Miraculous, boy.”

“What?!”, he spluttered, covering the ring with his other hand. “No! You don’t even know the whole story, it was nothing like that!”

Fu’s eyes narrowed.

“I won’t ask again.”

“But I am Chat Noir! Ladybug and I are meant to be together- to be a team! You can’t take that from us!”

He searched for his Kwami, desperate.

“Tell him, Plagg! I was just helping Ladybug grow to be the bigger person! It’s not like there’s any permanent damage anyway.”

The cat Kwami closed his eyes and breathed out. When he opened them again, there was no compassion in them.

“I’m sorry, Kiddo.”

Adrien had no time to react. Fu’s cane had jabbed at him out of nothing, swatting his hand into the air. His ring slipped of his finger and was caught on the wooden staff, just when Plagg began to blur and merge with it again.

Adrien stumbled back in shock, before fury took control of him. How dare he?!

“No!”

With a battle cry he went after Fu, fists clenched and ready to get his ring back by any means necessary.

He was taller than Fu, younger and quicker. The senile guardian wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

“Shelter!”, a voice to his right exclaimed and a green, solid barrier slammed into his side. Adrien yelped when he was thrown against a pipe and fell to the ground, breath knocked out of his lungs. He panted for air and looked up.

A tiny green creature floated next to Fu, hands raised to summon what he knew as Carapace’s superpower. Wayzz, the turtle Kwami, Plagg had mentioned once.

Adrien’s eyes widened. He might’ve had a chance to win against Fu, but a Kwami was another topic. Without his Miraculous, he stood no chance.

“Please!”, he resorted to begging, tears welling up in his eyes. “I need it! There’s nothing I can do as Adrien, I’ll be trapped at home forever! What will Ladybug be without me?”

Fu turned his back on him without hesitation, walking towards the stairs.

“Better off, I hope.”, he retorted coldly. “I regret your situation, but I can’t afford to waste Plagg’s powers on someone out of pity.”

He stopped.

“Adrien Agreste, you were granted the Miraculous of Destruction, a great honor. But you abused this privilege for selfish gains and tormented the one you were meant to protect. You will never again be worthy of its powers.”

He sighed when Adrien let out a helpless sob.

“I hope you can grow beyond what you are now, I really do. But until then... Farewell.”

With that, he disappeared into the shadows of the cellar, leaving Adrien behind.

#miramu writes #wttb #welcome to the back #felinette fanfic #ml felix #sentiquill #akuma!felix

[the-wiresmarvelau]

T.H.E. W.I.R.E.S.

Chapter 1 Chapter 5

Chapter 6: Arival 1

The first thing he noticed as he slowly regained consciousness, was how soft everything was.

A warm cloud-like texture enveloped his upper body, while what covered his legs was a little cooler, smother and he seemed to sink into the ground underneath him.

His whole body ached, but the pain had lost the sharp edge that he had almost grown accustomed to.

Thinking was too much of an effort right now, so he didn’t. Instead savouring the feeling of cotton in his brain and pulsing in his limbs.

With time though, he got more and more aware of his surroundings.

The air was cooler than what he had had to endure in the dungeons, but he smelled steam and salt waving over, as well as a smell he couldn’t quite place.

Light trickled through his closed eyelids, not very bright but enough to be a little uncomfortable.

He couldn’t quite place what all of that meant though and he made sure not to move or make a sound until the fog in his head cleared enough to know what to do.

Because he sure as hell wasn't alone. Rustling clothes and after a while the clinking of porcelain and metal against each other made it clear that someone was in the same room as him.

Metal….

Only now did he realise that his hands weren't cuffed anymore.

Curious.

It took him a few seconds more until he remembered.

Frigga had broken him out. She had gotten him out of the dungeon and brought him to Midgard.

At least that had been the plan.

Peter had spent hours reading, before he got too hungry to concentrate and decided that cold eggs on toast, wouldn’t be his choice for the first meal after what was probably years of torture.

So, he ate them while thinking of what to do next.

When he saw a slight twitch on the face of the unconscious form, he took that to mean that he would soon be waking up, or at least had gone from being out cold to just sleeping.

Taking into account that the teen really wasn't the best of cooks, he decided to just make some pasta with tomato sauce.

Better something simple then something burned.

About half way in, he noticed a hitch in the god’s breathing as well as a change in his heartrate.

Satisfied that he had been right, he turned his attention to the stove again.

A little more rest surely wouldn’t hurt and he didn’t want to rush the other.

Only when the table was set and the food all done did he speak up.

“Can you move enough to eat at the table or do you want to eat in bed?”

Just as he wanted to raise his eyes, to look at Loki, the bowl Frigga had left caught his eyes again.

About a dozen small vials lay in it now as well as a letter with the God’s name on it.

That could wait until later though.

As he looked over to the bed, he saw its occupant, struggling to turn enough to see him.

With a smile half sad, half relived on his face he went over to help the god into a sitting position.

Exhaustion was written all over his face but one corner of his mouth was slightly turned upwards.

“It worked” he whispered almost deliriously. “You kept your word.”

The brunette nodded and brought over their food, so they could eat together.

Savouring the taste of his first real meal in what felt like forever, the Jotun took his time.

Minutes went by in a strange sort of silence. Peter wanted to make sure he wouldn’t cross any lines or make his company uncomfortable while almost bursting with curiosity.

Loki on the other hand was still out of it. His hands shook and thinking was a chore with how hard it was to grasp anything that was going on.

But he was safe; that much he knew.

When they were finished eating, Peter introduced Loki to the AI, living with him.

It was obvious that the god tried to pay attention but struggled, so the teen soon decided to let him rest for a while longer.

At least the vigilante felt like he could leave the room for a bit without worrying his guest might die while he was out.

He helped the god lay back down and put the fancy bowl with the vials in it into the small, elevated crevasse at the back corner of the bed; since it was meant as a sort of nightstand anyway.

Then he went up to his room to get ready for a patrol.

On his way he made sure, Manuel knew to try and not spook the Asgardian too much and tell him when the hero would be back.

The moment he put on his suit and therefore connected with KAREN she tried to find out why he went out of his way to have Manuel out on his watch, even though he also was in the walls there.

It almost sounded like she was jealous- even though that shouldn’t be possible- giving Peter an opening to evade her question by teasing her, to come up with a lie.

Somehow, he managed to convince her to split the time spent with the AIs along the same lines, he split his life into Spiderman and Peter Parker.

While swinging towards New York City he was finally able to relax and collect himself again.

Knowing the god was safe in his room and nobody suspected a thing, was a huge weight off his chest.

After all, FRIDAY was due to be uploaded tomorrow and the chances of him wandering outside without his suit on were slim enough that it seemed almost miraculous to him that the goddess had caught him in a perfect moment like that.

Luck seemed for once to be on his side, making it impossible to wipe the smile from his face, as he arrived in his normal territory; Not that he wanted to.

High spirited as he was, he followed an instinct, telling him to swing a little farther than usual in the hopes of meeting that devil fella again.

He still hadn't gotten a clear read of this guy.

But he seemed nice enough, and if the spider wasn't completely wrong, the other had a few questions for him.

Right now, he just really wanted to talk to somebody so he hoped that Red would be fine with this.

The next time he heard the tell-tale *whip* again, which gave away the spider themed Vigilante, was when he was just on his way home from a night out with Foggy and Karen.

Matt Murdock had always been hell set on being independent.

Just because he was blind didn't mean that he needed help with everything.

Then again; He had also never been above using his disability and others' helpfulness to his advantage.

So, dropping his cane, he made a show out of cursing and tapping around the ground in the completely false direction to get spiderman's attention.

Last time they spoke, almost everything about the other had been puzzling to him.

While they had been fighting, his reflexes had been unnaturally accurate, and at times it had seemed like electric shocks cursed suddenly through his body, eliciting a little jerk of his head as if startled.

But the strangest thing was that, technically, a heart rate as fast as his resting one, should have him hyperventilating.

This irritated him to no end, because it meant that he couldn’t accurately figure out if he was being lied to like he could with others.

Especially when taking into account that his heartrate had been actually slower while he was fighting, then when afterwards, instead of the other way round.

As he listened closely for the other vigilante’s heartbeat right now, it was the same. Much too fast to be normal, even factoring in the adrenalin from his method of transportation.

Careful to keep his act up, he flinched back at the sound of feet hitting the ground right beside him.

“Excuse me, sir. It’s Spider-Man, ‘you want me to help you?” the masked man asked in a chipper tone.

“Yeah, uhm” He cleared his throat while shakily standing up. A bit worried if he was exaggerating a little too much “That would be great.”

While the other bent down to pick up the cane, Daredevil thought of what to say. How straightforward could he be about this?

“What brings you to Hell’s kitchen, if you don’t mind me asking? As far as I know the Devil is pretty territorial.” Way to go Murdock; Not at all suspicious.

“Well, that’s not at all concerning.” He raised an eyebrow at the choice of words, coupled with how nonchalantly they were spoken.

How young was this guy?

A subtle touch of the handle against the back of his hand alerted the blind man of his cane’s position.

”But I was only here to talk anyways. You haven’t by chance .. uh… heard?.. Of any sightings today?” There it was. The awkwardness around the topic of his vision.

At least he tried.

“I didn’t...” His head leaned to one side, angled up a bit; his hands both resting on his cane in typical Murdock fashion. “I also never heard you guys were buddy’s”

That’s what people did, wasn’t it? Jump to conclusions? Hopefully it would keep him talking.

“It’s not like we meet each Wednesday for a picnic on the rooftops or anything. And even if we knew each other that good it’s safer for us the less people know anything about that sort of thing.”

Clever of him.

He didn’t really reveal any clear information. Everything could mean one thing or it’s opposite without him having to tell a lie.

“I guess so, after all, if you knew him that good, you would know that he isn't out at this time of day. He goes around in the evening or the night, mostly.”

The vigilante coked his head to the side inquisitively. “Is that so? Good to know.”

Luckily, it didn't seem to damp his mood that much.

“You wouldn't mind escorting me home, would you?” The blind man asked, after a moment of hesitation.

“Sure, why not?” Daredevil wasn't anxious about being found out by this younger hero.

He knew surprisingly little about his alter ego. And for some reason, he trusted that the other wouldn't rat him out. Having his own secret identity.

So they chatted on their way back to Matt’s flat before Spider-man took off in the direction of queens again.

The rest of patrol consisted of the usual: a few muggings, a few cats in trees and old women to be helped over the street.

He broke up one thing that looked like an attempted rape and escorted the frightened girl to the police station.

As his curfew grew nearer, the closer he stayed to the tower. He had to let himself be seen there, soon Mr. Stark would assume something that happened to him.

When he decided that he was out long enough, he stuck to the side of the building and asked Karen to contact Friday to open a window for him.

She opened the window to the former Avengers common room.

It didn't get used much now that the rogues were on the run, and Tony preferred to use the common rooms in his own penthouse.

Since Friday had opened the window there, Peter was pretty sure that Mr. Stark was in the labs, which he wasn't allowed to climb into from the outside.

On his way to the kitchen area, he got rid of his mask.

Nobody who didn't already know his secret Identity had enough clearance to come up here anyway, not since the rogues hadn't been pardoned yet.

That was also what he didn't already panic when he heard the elevator come up to his level and people talking inside.

Tony had probably been notified of his arrival and came up from the lab, talking probably to Friday or Pepper.

As the elevator opened, however, he didn't recognize the footsteps next to the mechanic, and it was definitely not Pepper speaking up.

“That... was a lot. Though I can't say that I'm really surprised; you too always had this… quarrel going between you two.”

Panicked Peter Scrambled for his mask, glad about a super hearing, which was the only thing giving him enough time to put it on before the two men stepped into the room enough to see him.

He carried on ruffling through the pantries, as if he hadn't just had a heart nearly had a heart attack.

He may have just eaten a few hours ago, but he had had exercise and his super metabolism demanded sustenance.

“Yes, well then it will surprise you even more, that I am the one who is trying to mend the accords so everyone can agree to sign them.” The much more familiar voice of Tony came from the door; then: “oh. Hey Spidey”.

“Morning, Mr. Stark.” The addressee answered, head still in a pantry, searching for his favourite flavoured pop tarts.

That seemed to startle the unknown man, for he gave out a little squeak, as if surprised that somebody else was present.

“Well, you didn't say that Spider-Man would be here.” He led out just as Peter found what he was searching for, and pulled the box out along with a bag of Doritos.

“That's because I wasn't until two minutes ago.” He quipped as an answer while turning around and promptly almost dropping everything he had in his arms to the floor.

At the entrance to the kitchen area stood, no none other than Bruce freaking Banner, seven PhDs, a master of science and most renowned researcher of gamma radiation with a sheer endless number of articles published under his name.

The youngest had read all of them, soaked up every single world, in the hopes of finding out more about what had happened with a spider bite.

After Tony Stark, Banner was this greatest idol in science - not to speaker of the scientific miracle that was the Hulk.

But at this first reaction, Banner’s face dropped.

He really shouldn't be surprised, every time he got recognized for who he was, people reacted in fear; if they even recognized him.

But the very next second he was proven wrong.

The vigilante came over in a few long strides  and began to excitedly chat at a near inhuman speed.

“Oohmygooodd.It’syouIt’sBruceBanner. I’msuchagreatfanofyourworkwithgammaradiation. And how you managed to trace the energy signature of the sceptre?!? It’ssoocooltomeetyou!!”

As he looked to his mentor with stars in his eyes, all he could do was break out laughing.

Tony knew that his protégé was excitable but right now that trait had reached an all-time high.

When he had himself under control again, he looked up at the others; almost losing it once more at the furious blush spreading over Bruce’s faces and the comically large eyes of the mask Peter was wearing.

Upon seeing that Peter pouted.

Even without seeing his face Tony seemed to pick up on that, as he put an arm over his shoulder in the way he always did when trying to console the boy.

“Breath, kid. Or I might get the impression that you like him better than me.”

“Oh, don't worry, Mr. Stark. You will always be my favourite, but this is Bruce Freaking Banner we’re talking about. You cannot tell me that his work on the effects of radiation on electronics isn't credible?!”

The billionaire just laughed as an answer. While the aforementioned scientist, blushed furiously.

“That was ages ago. You really read all of those papers?”

“Of course, Dr. Banner. I read every single paper you have published.”

“He isn't joking either,” Mr. Stark added ”I’ve quizzed him once because I couldn't believe it, but he really did read every single one.”

“I'm flattered,” Bruce muttered, for lack of better words.

Peter flushed a tooth to grin which couldn't be seen by the other two, but he knew Mr. Stark would catch up on that; he had become good at interpreting his body language.

That theory was promptly proven right by Mr. Stark saying, “wipe that grin off your face, it makes me jealous.”

“Alright, your right. Mr. Stuck.” Peter answered. “But for the much better question, not to be rude or anything, but where were you? You were like untraceable for several years now. It must be so weird to come back after all this time.”

The concern was audible in his voice, and it made the man beside him chuckle.

“The kid has a point. Care to explain Brucey-bear?”

“Well, you know how the hulk kind of got his hands on one of Tony’s quinjets?” Bruce asked. Still a little shy.

Peter nodded in confirmation.

“Well, somehow it got us out of earth’s atmosphere and onto an unknown planet. It was some kind of post-apocalyptic hellhole... all full of ruins, not a living soul. And the big guy didn't let me have a turn in the body to go and fix a jet.

“He had his fun on the planet for over a year at which point I kind of manage to take advantage of the times you slept to take a look at the quinjet and try to repair it. Considering the limited supply of materials and tools I had, it took quite some time.

“But I managed as you see, and I somehow found a way back here. Once in the small shuttle, it was much easier to convince the big guy to stay down, and let me take control.” While Bruce had been speaking, they had all sat down on the table while Peter had gathered all he had dropped.

“That is so cool, Dr. Banner. But what made it so hard to change back on the other planet? Could it have been a difference in gravity and atmosphere, which made it harder to get control for yourself.

“Maybe the other planet had a different form of radiation level. Which would have killed a human, which would have been dangerous for a human, so the Hulk stayed?

“Mr. Stark once told me that he is able to take control if you’re in dangerous situations; to keep you to your life.” The boy had become noticeably more hesitant towards the end and Bruce appreciated the consideration of a mental state, though he couldn’t help wondering just how much Stark had told the kid.

“It could be. I can't be sure since I wasn't able to measure anything. As I said, limited access to tools.”

The boy just nodded and his mentor could see the millions of theories floating around the boy's head from the way his fingers seemed to pluck on visible strings in mid-air. While his palms dragged over, his suit over and over again.

He had witnessed the sort of movement quite often from his protégé. It seemed to help him think or calm down after a nightmare.

“I think that is enough about the big guy for now.” The engineer interrupted. “But now that Bruce will be living with us again: How far you with a compound kid?”

Peter only reacted with a slow turning of his head.

His mind still a million miles away. So, I took him a few seconds to come back in the real world.

“Yeah, I'm finished with most rooms by now.. I think. If you're coming soon there. But your room is finished already.” He said, distractedly at first, before shaking his head and coming to his senses.

“We only have to install Friday and we're good to go. Well, as I said, a few rooms need a little bit of touching up, but I get that done in the next few days.” Peter reported truthfully.

“Sounds lovely. We're going to come over tomorrow some time.” Tony said, shooting a questioning glance at the other scientist. “That is if his lab is ready.” He finished. And Peter shook his head.

“I still have to install a thing or two, but I should be done sometime in the afternoon.”

“I'm not planning to be awake any time before noon anyway. And I assume Bruce over here can deal with a little bit of sleeping in, too.” He just got a nod in response from the two.

“You're going to say in for the night?” Tony asked the teen beside him.

“No, I'll get back to the compound and make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Still have to finish the lab tomorrow. And I don't want to stand up too early either.”

With that, he stuffed a pop-tart in his mouth and went to the next window, which Friday already opened for him, once she noticed what he was about to do.

“See around” he said, flinging himself out of the window, prompting a groan from his mentor and a frightened squeak from the other scientist in the room.

“Jesus. This kid! The bane of my existence - and the cause for all of my grey hair.” Tony commented before showing his guest to the room he’d be sleeping in for the night.

Chapter 1  Chapter 5 Chapter 7

#chapters #chapter 6 #peter parker #loki marvel #fanfic #MCU #i don't know how tags work #marvel #sorry for the wait #i forgot to post it here

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary Addendums: Oddly-Specifically-Themed Edition

I mentioned back when I finished the commentary that I might occasionally make new posts with little addendums to things I said in my posts. I re-read this commentary a lot just for my own sake, and sometimes I find myself wanting to clarify existing points, elaborate on things, or just make a whole new point that I hadn’t thought of during the original commentary post.

So here’s a post kind of like that… but this one features bonus thoughts on a rather specific theme. People familiar with my content on my main blog may be quite aware of the reason I found myself having these extra thoughts on this particular theme, but for the sake of not alienating anyone not familiar with that reason, I won’t directly mention anything about that here.

Content warning for the entirety of this post: discussion of torture. And I guess a little bit for psychological abuse in a non-torturey way as well.

The escape tunnel

Consider the escape tunnel in chapter 1. After being the first person to flat-out refuse to keep attempting it, Kokichi makes a rather interesting comment.

Kokichi:  “You’re free to keep trying on your own, but forcing us to join you is basically torture.”

Kaede:  “T-Torture?”

Now, not to sound like I’m agreeing with Kokichi or anything (because I’m not, not quite), but here’s my new hot take on the escape tunnel: it really is a literal torture device.

Kaede:  (When I finally woke up, searing pain coursed throughout my entire body.)

Since it’s swallowed up by a minigame, it’s kind of vague exactly what really happens to them in the tunnel each time. But based on lines like this, and everyone’s general reactions after failing over and over, it seems it’s gruellingly physically exhausting and painful. They don’t just fail to escape; they suffer for trying to do so.

Which, when you consider that there were probably plenty of ways to make the tunnel nigh-impossible to get through without making it so gruelling like this, has to have been deliberate on the part of the gamemakers. This is more than just giving them a glimmer of apparent hope and then snatching it away; this is torturing them for even trying to act on that hope.

This tunnel is a torture device, designed to ensnare people like Kaede who are stubbornly determined to escape, and then to psychologically beat them into losing that determination by coming to associate it with nothing but gruelling suffering and failure.

Rantaro:  “They want us to be desperate to go home. Corner us mentally.”

Rantaro says this, but it’s actually kind of the opposite. This is to make them give up on ever getting out of here through their own power, so that they feel like the only remaining option is to do as Monokuma says and play the killing game after all.

It’s easy to see that this works on Kaede. It’s because of the disheartening experience with the tunnel that she can no longer believe things would ever be as easy as the mastermind letting everyone go once Shuichi captures them on camera, which is why she becomes convinced that the only way to be sure of stopping the mastermind is something much more permanent.

But what might not be so obvious is that the tunnel’s psychological torture also works on everyone else. Not only does nobody ever even think about trying the tunnel again until it’s chapter 5 and Kaito’s getting especially desperate to be a hero (and they have a way to disable the traps anyway), but also, nobody ever seriously tries to escape in any other way before then, either. They talk about it, but everyone’s too hesitant to actually act.

Only a few of the weaker people there would have been consciously thinking “escaping is impossible and trying will only cause us to suffer more”, mind you. That’s the same kind of blatantly-unhelpful attitude as Kokichi’s insistence in chapter 2 of “we shouldn’t co-operate because Monokuma will make us suffer if we do”. Most people should be able to realise that this is defeatist, and that of course they should be doing the things Monokuma doesn’t want them to do, whether they might suffer for it or not, because the possibility of escaping in the end would be worth that suffering.

If some of the more determined ones caught themselves having a thought like that, or realised that the tunnel existed to make them think that way, they’d certainly be having none of it. Kaito would fervently tell you that there’s no way that stupid tunnel taught him to just give up on ever escaping this place; why the hell do you think some bullshit like that would sway him!?

And yet, it did. It got to everyone in a psychologically subtle enough way that they don’t even consciously realise it did so, so they’re not able to push themselves to fight against it. It’s rather like how Maki gradually developed a heartbreaking coping mechanism of simply accepting her awful situation without trying to change it, just condensed into one afternoon of what really does deserve to be called literal torture for the sake of making them give up.

…But as for Kokichi being the one to make the point about this being torture, well, that’s more by luck than judgement. As usual, he’s really spouting self-preserving bullshit that completely misses the actual point.

Kokichi:  “You won’t let us give up and no matter what we say, you have the moral high ground… That… doesn’t sound like torture to you? When you say we can’t give up, you’re not inspiring us, you’re strong-arming us!”

Because, geez, way to blame the person who was manipulated by the torture device exactly like it’s designed to do, rather than blaming the people who actually built the device and who are therefore really the ones responsible for torturing everyone here.

  Maki’s assassin training

Another thing I’ve had a lot more thoughts about is Maki’s third FTE, aka the one where she talks about being tortured during her training.

Maki:  “They tried to break me during training, but *I* was still there.”

See, the thing is, while Maki thinks they were trying to break her by torturing her… she’s wrong. Of course they weren’t. They wanted a functional assassin. If she broke entirely, then that’d waste all the time and effort they’d put into training her this far. Sure, they had her friend as a backup option, but it’d still be a waste to have to do all the training over from scratch. They probably very carefully design the torture to not outright break their child-slaves such that they’ll become non-functional, while also making sure to pick kids they know are resilient enough to not completely fall apart through something like that. The possibility of Maki breaking under it was very, very unlikely from the beginning.

Maki:  “They tried to drag my dignity and tear it… To make me feel empty… But even then, *I* found myself. And then, they would do it all over again.”

This is a more accurate assessment of what they were trying to do. They were trying to break her sense of personhood so that she’d just be an empty, obedient tool who would do what she was told without question and never think for herself.

(And they failed, because Maki is incredible. I really love her way of framing it as “I was still there”, “I found myself”. It’s so impressive that she managed to hold on to her sense of self throughout all that, to the point of even being consciously aware that that was what she was doing. She had no-one to help her through this, yet she managed to somehow support herself through it all anyway, out of her sheer determination to do what she needed to for the other kids at the orphanage. Maki is so good.)

Maki:  “It… wouldn’t have been strange if I broke during all the torture. But even so, I tried my best. I wouldn’t have accepted the job in the first place if I knew I couldn’t do it… But most importantly, if I broke, then *that girl* would have replaced me…”

Maki still seems to believe that she was in genuine danger of breaking to the point that they’d have needed to outright replace her, though. If she actually thought about it from a logistical standpoint – which she’s usually very good at doing – she should be able to realise that this would be a very inefficient way to train child-slave assassins. So it’s interesting that she can’t see that.

I can only assume that that’s because the torture was so awful while it was happening that she felt like they must have been trying to break her entirely, and that she was in real danger of becoming non-functional. Which… of course she would have felt that way, regardless of what they were actually trying to achieve with it. Torture is horrible, and those cultists are the biggest assholes in the world for casually doing this to children. (Or at least, they would be if they existed, but I finally thought about this so much in the first place thanks to certain AUs in which they really do.) Maki is so, so strong.

  Something else I’ve been thinking about regarding Maki lately is the notion that, well, she didn’t need to have “willingly” chosen to become an assassin for the sake of protecting the orphanage and her friend. None of the kids they recruit ever needed to be given a choice in the matter. They’re orphans, and the cult runs their orphanages; it would be perfectly easy to force a kid into assassin training even if said kid didn’t care about protecting their orphanage to the point that they’d be willing to sacrifice everything like Maki did.

Maki’s not the only high-school-aged assassin, since there are others from her cult. She apparently doesn’t even have the most inherent talent for it, given that the cult was scouting her friend first. So I wonder if the reason Maki was deemed the Ultimate Assassin anyway is because the fact that she went willingly made her better at this than any of the other child assassins the cult produced. If she didn’t resist the training (beyond the natural human instinct to resist pain and suffering, at least), it’d be easier for her to hold on to herself. She chose to submit to them and shut the regular-person part of herself tightly away in order to be able to do what she needed to do, which meant she never needed to have that part of her be broken.

Maybe kids selfless enough that they’re willing to choose this are a rare exception. (Aside from the fact that it’s still not at all a choice, because emotionally blackmailing a ten-year-old that their effective family will starve if they don’t become a mass murderer is not okay on any level, but you know what I mean.) Perhaps all of the cult’s other child-slaves weren’t quite brave and selfless enough to have willingly walked into hell, even with the threat of what’d happen if they didn’t, and they needed to be dragged there kicking and screaming instead. In that case, if they weren’t choosing to submit already, the training would have had to beat them into submission, probably resulting in those poor kids genuinely losing most of their sense of self rather than just locking it away. They might have actually had to become empty, near-mindless puppets before they could kill people.

If Maki retained more sense of self than the other child-slave assassins, that’d leave her with more initiative in carrying out her kills than the unfortunate kids who could barely do anything except follow orders any more. Although Maki had no real choice over whether or not to kill people, she wouldn’t have lost the capacity to make at least some choices by herself within that, in terms of how to do so most effectively.

(Maki mentions at one point that she specialises in quick deaths – which seems to imply that not all assassins in her cult are necessarily trained to do that as standard. That was something she chose to do on her own terms, because she wanted to be as kind as possible while still doing what she needed to do. She still hadn’t lost the capacity to be that kind.)

So maybe, paradoxically, it’s because Maki had the most kindness and selflessness out of all the cult’s child-slave assassins that she ended up being deemed the “best” out of them at killing people.

  With all that said, while the torture didn’t break Maki’s sense of self, one thing it does seem like it managed to break is her belief in herself, her sense of worth as a person. Maki thoroughly hates herself – but it’s not just in the sense that she hates herself for having killed countless people. She also just doesn’t think she’s any good at anything else, such as taking care of people, persuading people, helping out in cases, even though she is good at all of those things. While she hates the fact that she’s a killer, her skills in killing people are the only part of herself that she has any kind of confidence in.

Maki:  “Something only I can do… I can think of just one thing. …I know what you’re about to say. But… that’s the reality.”

Maki:  “I was confident in my talent as an assassin. I knew I would be able to do it.”

And… that’s almost certainly deliberate on the part of her trainers. They tortured her, physically and psychologically, to beat her down into feeling like she had no worth at all. Then, based on her genuine confidence in her talent of killing people, I can only imagine that they filled up that void of worthlessness by giving her praise and validation – but only when she showed promise in the assassin skills she was learning, and for nothing else. That way, she’d be actively motivated to get even better at it and turn herself into nothing but a killing machine, so that she could get more of that validation and feel like she was worth at least something after all. Those assholes in the cult would have become something like her twisted abusive Stockholm-Syndrome-y parent figures that she was desperate to please despite everything, because she was just a kid and she had nobody else.

Guh. Maki deserves all of the hugs and all of the genuinely supportive and healthy relationships and I’m so glad she has Kaito and Shuichi for that.

  Chapter 5 stuff

There was a thing I alluded to indirectly a few times during chapter 5, not wanting to make it explicit when the game didn’t either because torture can be an uncomfortable subject. But since I’m here openly talking about all of this now with a content warning on this post, I might as well make my point from then clear.

Maki believed it was very possible that Kokichi could be torturing Kaito while holding him prisoner. That’s part of why she was so desperate to get him out of there as soon as she could.

(Obviously Kokichi wouldn’t actually have done that, but Maki completely believed his evil sadist lie. That coupled with her own experiences that paint torture as just normal gave her every reason to assume it might be happening.)

  Meanwhile in chapter 5, there’s the Strike-9 poison.

Although it requires time to circulate, even a small amount in the body will result in certain death.

This is… very unscientifically vague. How small of an amount? Every chemical that’s capable of killing someone is always going to have a minimum threshold beneath which there’s simply not enough of it to do so. The label on this poison bottle really, really ought to actually state that amount. Obviously it would vary from person to person, but the label should at least state the average.

Instead, by not stating an amount, the implication the narrative wants to give here is that any amount of Strike-9 in the body, no matter how tiny, will absolutely definitely be lethal. Which is not how pharmacology works.

I can forgive this, though, because it’s just a writing contrivance for the sake of the case. The writers wanted it to be an unquestionable fact that anybody who was shot with an arrow coated in Strike-9 would definitely die unless they drank the antidote of which there was only one dose. They didn’t want to bog that down with ambiguity based on the threshold of lethality of the poison and the question of just how much the arrows were coated with. Nobody was meant to get any kind of hope from thinking “okay, so Kaito was shot with a poisoned arrow and Kokichi drank the only antidote, but what if there just wasn’t quite enough poison on the arrow to kill Kaito?” Technicalities like that were not the point of the case.

It is also, for that matter, quite a narrative contrivance that apparently the entire bottle of antidote is necessary to properly neutralise the poison, such that there wasn’t the possibility of them splitting it half-and-half or something. Really the exact amount of antidote needed would probably depend on the original dose of the poison, and there’d be all kinds of ambiguity to that, too.

But shush. These contrivances are necessary building blocks to create a case where one of Kaito or Kokichi has to be dead and the only ambiguity is in which one it is. Just like the whole deal with the Exisal’s ridiculously convenient voice changer, I do not actually care what background details needed to be kind of awkward and forced in order to get this story to work, because the story itself is so damn good.

#danganronpa v3 #addendums #torture #abuse

[themostrandomfandom]

why do you think brittany writes in crayon?

Hey, @stanjyrus!

So the cynical, out-of-universe, fuck-RIB answer is that Brittany writes in crayon because TPTB at Glee want to depict her as being childish.

Note that in S1 and S2, while Brittany is occasionally shown to doodle in crayon, when she writes, she is most often shown using her beloved (and age-appropriate) Koosh Ball gel pens. 

The one instance in which she writes using crayons on a major assignment is on her “heart attacks” report from episode 2x03, and in that instance, her doing so can be explained by the fact that her report includes artwork (and using crayons to draw pictures makes sense). She is otherwise shown using typical writing utensils for her schoolwork.

This choice in writing tools tracks with her general S1/S2 depiction: i.e., as a ditz but at least an average teenage ditz who could plausibly exist (and function) in a mainstream high school classroom. 

Only in S3 and especially S4, when the writers lean hard into the “Brittany is infantile” party line, does the crayon writing become a standard, repeated joke. The downgrade from Koosh pens to crayons tracks with the general degradation of Brittany’s character during this period.

As for within the universe of the show, one very simple and viable explanation for Brittany writing in crayon is personal preference: i.e., crayon is a brighter and more colorful medium than pencil or (standard) pen and is therefore an attractive medium for someone as creative and whimsical as she.

However, a more complicated (and psychoanalytical) explanation also potentially exists, and it ties into the argument I make in this post: namely, that over the course of her high school education, Brittany’s teachers, counselors, and coaches alternately ignore and disparage her when she struggles in her classes, and the fact that they do so prompts her to “act out academically.” 

Though it would be in Brittany’s best interest to ask for help directly, she doesn’t, largely because she has been made to feel unwelcome to do so. Rather than approach Will, Sue, Mrs. Hagberg, Emma, etc., all of whom have, in their own ways, made it clear that they consider Brittany stupid and/or obnoxious, and therefore unworthy of being taken seriously, Brittany puts up a façade, pretending that she’s too aloof to care about her schoolwork. She lives down to their low expectations for her because doing so allows her at least a modicum of control in a situation where she otherwise has none.

If we accept this model, then we can perhaps view writing her assignments in crayon as a symptom of Brittany’s scholastic desperation.

Essentially, Brittany feels like she’s going to fail her assignments no matter what she does or how hard she tries not to, because her teachers have proven to her, class after class, year after year, that they are unwilling to deal with her and/or give her a fair shake. She therefore decides (either consciously or subconsciously) that if she’s going to fail regardless, she is at least going to choose the mechanism by which she does so—and somehow it hurts less to fail because she writes her assignments in crayon than it does to fail because her teachers think that her ideas are stupid/wrong.

Remember that math test Sue whips out in episode 4x02? The one that Brittany draws “Happyville: the Town Where Math Was Never Invented” on?

Notice that Brittany doesn’t even bother to write down answers on that test.

Maybe she doesn’t write down answers because she’s using the crayon drawings as a defense mechanism. 

If her teacher is just going to pick her apart anyway, why bother to put in any sort of real effort? The faculty all view her as an imbecile, so she’s going to give them what they expect. She’s not going to make herself vulnerable by expending her actual brainpower to come up with an answer that they’re just going to (arbitrarily) strike out because she’s her.

I would wager that as a yet undiscovered math genius, Brittany probably finds it difficult to “show her work” in the way that high school teachers typically require. She probably just “knows what she knows” intuitively/instinctively, and since she can’t write down the answer without showing her work, lest she be accused of cheating on the exam, she opts not to write anything at all. Things are just easier that way.

As I talk about in this Brittanalysis, Brittany may also be “crying for help” with the crayon drawing, hoping against hope that maybe someday, some teacher (possessed of both a brain and a heart) will realize that any twelfth grader who’s drawing stick figures in crayon on their math midterm probably needs help and actually pull her aside to ask her, in a genuine way, how they can be of assistance.

She’s too scared to ask for what she needs directly, so she hints at it—with Crayola cartoons—instead.

Unfortunately for Brittany, the only person who does seem to notice and/or care about the crayon drawings is Sue, who only cares insofar as this increasingly erratic behavior is having a bad influence on the younger Cheerios, and so summarily kicks Brittany off the squad.

Admittedly, a hole in this theory is that Brittany does seem to continue using crayon to write long after she has left both WMHS and MIT, even into S6, where we see her working on the Euler Brick problem using a rather impressive Crayola collection.

However, we can perhaps explain this usage by means of our simpler explanation from above: i.e., by this point in her life, now that Brittany is no longer beholden to academic rules and is just doing math for fun because she’s good at it, she uses the crayons because they’re colorful and pretty and because they make her calculations pop on the page.

Also, she may use crayons because she is potentially numerically synesthestic, as a few math geniuses, including famous nonnormative thinker Daniel Tammet, are. Note that in her Euler equations, she alternates colors, perhaps indicating that different calculations are chromatically different in her mind. (“The square root of four is rainbows,” anyone?) 

Anyway, that’s what I’ve got!

Thanks for the question!

#Crazy Brittanalyst answers #stanjyrus #Brittanalyzing #I just want queue

[satonthelotuspier]

Like Spring Rain. Like Starlight.

A Beginning - This is Ending No 2

Lan Xichen has chosen to embrace the future, and continue with their plan to bring Nie Mingjue back to consciousness.

Lan Xichen exchanged a glance with Nie Huaisang; as Wen Ning continued, “I would have missed out on so much if Wei-gongzi hadn’t brought me back, Lan-zongzhu. I would have never seen how A-Yuan had grown, I would never have had extra, precious years with jiejie and Wei-gongzi and my relatives at the Burial Mounds, and I’m able to be a part of A-Yuan’s life now. There’s a lot to be thankful for.” The Ghost General had spoken honestly and from his heart, and it touched Lan Xichen, and allowed him to finally, and in good conscience make his decision.

Lan Xichen closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them he saw a new, determined look on Nie Huaisang’s face.

“Let’s go.” He lead the other’s out of the Hanshi and to the hall, where the other Sect Leaders had gathered.

He firstly spoke of their plan, and why they had reasonable expectation of success, and Wen Ning spoke of Fierce Corpses, and how different it was for one to retain their own consciousness; how he still retained his feelings for those he considered his family and friends.

Then the Jiang Sect Leader spoke up, “it’s all very well, Lan-zongzhu, expecting us to agree to you bringing your husband back to consciousness; it would be simply lovely for you, but why should the rest of us agree to this?” there were muttered agreements among the other sect leaders.

It was nothing Lan Xichen hadn’t expected to be questioned on; so he merely smiled at Jiang Wanyin.

“Jiang-zongzhu, a single act may be many things to many people. If I merely expected you to bring my husband back then indeed it would benefit no one else, there are other considerations, however.”

“Please, do enlighten us, Lan-zongzhu.”

“With pleasure, Jiang-zongzhu. Your current seal will last a hundred years. That means in a hundred years Nie Mingjue’s corpse-” he tried not to choke on the word, “-will be your children’s, or your children’s children’s problem. And the seal may be renewed for another hundred years, which moves the problem even further down the family tree. However, we have the Grandmaster of the discipline here and now, and willing to deal with the question of what to do, here and now, saving every clan time, effort and cost in guarding the tomb,” he could sense with the promise of lessened cost and effort he had some of the smaller sects giving his words serious thought. He still had to convince Jiang Wanyin, however.

“What about the Yin Tiger Seal that’s currently buried with Nie Mingjue?” Jiang Wanyin asked.

“Another excellent reason to open the tomb, and let Wei Wuxian destroy the final half once and for all. Or what happens if in another hundred years we have a Jin Guangshan, who covets it’s power, is able to procure it, and have someone rebuild it from the scraps as Xue Yang was able to? It may bring back my husband, Jiang-zongzhu, but it will be forestalling a very dangerous potential future problem to everyone’s benefit.”

There was something like a mocking smile cross Jiang Wanyin’s lips then, and for a moment Lan Xichen felt his heart sink in disappointment.

“You seem to have thought everything through in detail, Lan-zongzhu. It appears it would be to Yunmeng Jiang’s benefit to deal with the situation in the present. I therefore give you my agreement”

Some of the smaller clans expressed theirs immediately.

“Lanling Jin agrees.” Jin Rulan added his agreement to his uncle’s.

“Qinghe Nie agrees.” Nie Huaisang sounded unusually decisive in his support.

Seeing the way the wind was blowing most of the other sects had to follow the consensus.

***

Later, after many of the other sects had taken their leave; the pre-meeting delegation gathered again in the hall; with one other addition in Jiang Wanyin.

“You really had me going, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang tapped his folded fan against the other man’s shoulder in a recognisably coquettish move.

“Well I had to be the loudest voice in opposition, to take the stilts out from underneath the rest when I finally agreed.” Jiang Wanyin caught the hand holding the fan, “Don’t forget you owe me.”

“Thank you for your agreement, Jiang-zongzhu,” Lan Xichen saluted the other, but Nie Huaisang waved a hand in dismissal.

“Nonsense, er-ge, we came up with the plan to ensure the room went the way we wanted it to. Aren’t I smart? And how could Jiang-xiong not agree when if he hadn’t it would have left him...without.”

“Nie Huaisang!” Jiang Wanyin exclaimed, blushing hotly while Wei Wuxian let out a loud, delighted howl of a laugh.

“Jiang Cheng, you little cat,” he exclaimed, and even Lan Xichen had to hide his smile behind his sleeve.

“You talk like blackmail is the only reason I agreed, you little shit” Jiang Wanyin snapped, “I already told you I thought it was a situation we should deal with sooner rather than later, I don’t only think with...with that.”

“Of course, A-Cheng” there was a tone of indulgence in Nie Huaisang’s voice Lan Xichen had never heard before as he leant in to place a quick, teasing peck against the Jiang Sect Leader’s lips.

“We’ll keep in touch, er-ge, please begin the preparations we discussed,” Nie Huaisang said as he guided Jiang Wanyin out of the hall. They were replaced almost immediately by Lan Qiren and several elders. The former’s face resembled thunder.

Lan Xichen straightened his already rather ramrod-like spine, it was time to face the consequences of his actions; and he intended to follow through on his promise to ensure his brother and brother-in-law didn’t suffer for agreeing to help him.

“Wen Ning, perhaps you should take your leave of A-Yuan” Wei Wuxian suggested, and the other followed his advice and left the hall, as Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian moved to stand next to Lan Xichen.

“Shufu, elders” Lan Xichen acknowledged them, and the three bowed in unison.

“I am tired of making the same speeches to you all over and over, and it travelling in one ear and out of the other. Therefore, as I do not feel like repeating myself, and you are fully aware of the rules you have broken, I will merely assign you each five strokes of the discipline whip. With time to reflect on your immoral, selfish behaviour perhaps you will come to your senses. Though I have my doubts.

“You have both inherited every bad trait of your father, and my years of influence have done nothing to temper them” his uncle couldn’t even look him in the eyes when he pronounced their punishment.

Lan Xichen, as Sect Leader, of course had the authority to veto his Shufu’s orders; however, just as with his brother’s, as much as it had hurt him, he didn’t feel like he could; Lan Qiren had been the Sect Leader in everything but name for many years due to the situation with his father, and Lan Xichen had achieved the rank only by accident of birth on the passing of his father. By all rights it should have been Lan Qiren, who had had to step up to the role again when Lan Xichen had retreated into seclusion after the Guanyin Temple.

There was something he could do this time, however.

“As you wish, Shufu. I accept your punishment, but defer Wei Wuxian’s and Lan Wangji’s punishment onto myself. I am the rule-breaker, and I will bear the consequences as is only fair.”

“Xiongzhang...” Lan Wangji protested.

“Wangji, I promised you I would be the only one to suffer for this. Please continue with the plans as discussed with the other Sects. I will join you as soon as I’m able. You may both go now”

“Xiongzhang,” unusually Wangji didn’t follow Lan Xichen’s first order, “Your body is barely  healed from your time in seclusion...”

“You can’t currently take that many, Xichen-ge,” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, “Please, just reject the punishment.”

“That is enough, both of you. Please leave, you have work to do, mine is done for the present,”

They didn’t argue further. Lan Qiren finally looked at Lan Xichen as they left.

“You are foolish and stubborn, it’s a family failing. Your obsession with this one man brought you nothing but ruin, you can’t even hope for an ending as happy as Wangji’s, as coincidentally as that was achieved.”

“What you refer to as my obsession is love, Shufu, and I would choose ruin a thousand times in a thousand different lives if that’s what his love was to me. I am aware we cannot all be as lucky as Wangji to be given a genuine second chance, however.

“Do as you will, Shufu, I know my own guilt.”

***

Under Lan Wangji’s careful supervision, the plans they had set into place were acted upon, and the sealed sarcophagus was taken to the Burial Mounds under the guard of several different sects. The Burial Mounds had been designated as a safe space away from the general population, and gave Wei Wuxian the quiet and peace he needed to work.

The other sects had set up to guard at the foot of the mountain, to act as a line of defence for anything wishing to either enter or leave over the repaired walls.

The chains the Jins had used to bind fierce corpses had been procured, and Wei Wuxian had prepared many of the talismans he’d used on Wen Ning many years ago.

Lan Xichen arrived just as they prepared to open the sarcophagus and made an admirable show of pretending he wasn’t on the point of physical collapse.

Several other clan leaders were in attendance in order to ensure the Yin Tiger Seal was dealt with in accordance with agreements made.

When the sarcophagus was finally opened it caused a thrill of shock through the crowd.

It was discovered only the calm fierce corpse of Nie Mingjue was interred inside; there was no trace of the Yin Tiger Seal, or Jin Guangyao.

Lan Xichen closed his eyes; he tried to tell himself it was merely that Nie Mingjue had shattered the other to dust in their enforced mutual burial, but in his sinking heart, and because of the Yin Tiger Seal’s absence, he knew it couldn’t be that simple.

Jiang Wanyin stepped forward from where he had been offering silent support to Nie Huaisang; “We know the sarcophagus was under the strict watch of several sects at any given time, from the moment it was moved to the moment it was opened. We need to find out who had access to the tomb before that, who could have spirited the Yin Tiger Seal and that dogs corpse away.” Jiang Wanyin looked at Wei Wuxian, “Continue as we agreed with returning Nie Mingjue, I’ll ask a couple of other sects to volunteer manpower and we’ll start to investigate. We’ll tear the world apart stone by stone to find that seal if we have to”

“You can have Nie Sect disciples, if I have to rip that piece of shit apart with my own hands to ensure he’s dead and stays it this time, I will” Nie Huaisang said with something approaching a snarl in his voice.

“Take Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, they’re smart and capable boys” Wei Wuxian suggested, and Lan Wangji mn’ed his agreement, “Just ensure you look after them, alright?”

Jiang Wanyin nodded, obviously holding back his natural urge to snark at Wei Wuxian.

Jin Rulan leapt forward at the mention of his friends being involved, “I’ll help too, jiujiu”

***

So the investigation, lead by Jiang Wanyin, began, and as everyone eventually left once the opening of the sarcophagus had been completed it left Wei Wuxian to get on with the very serious work of returning Nie Mingjue to consciousness.

Lan Xichen had prepared himself a cot a little deeper in to the Demon Slaughtering Cave to enable him to begin his own recovery, but he rarely spent much time in it, preferring instead to sit by Nie Mingjue’s side, out of Wei Wuxian’s way, despite Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s urgings he was doing himself no good, nor was his constant presence necessary.

Several weeks passed; Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng occasionally visited to check their progress, and to report their own, but nothing much changed on either side of the Burial Mounds wall.

***

It was some time later when Lan Xichen was woken from one of the rare full nights of sleep he took to the sound of a commotion. He leapt up and rushed towards the noise, only pausing long enough to summon Shuoyue with his spiritual energy.

He arrived to find the chains that had held the, until now, calm, fierce corpse of Nie Mingjue down, had snapped in several places and his figure now flailed around the cave. He knocked Wei Wuxian who didn’t dodge fast enough through the air and into the cave wall.

“Nie Mingjue!” At the sound of the voice Nie Mingjue spun, and made his way in the direction it had come from.

“Xiongzhang, move” Lan Wangji called urgently as he helped a slightly dazed Wei Wuxian to his feet.

Collecting himself, Wei Wuxian raised Chenqing to his lips at the same time as the first chords from Wangji’s guqin sounded out inside the cave.

Rather than have Nie Mingjue turn back on them while they worked to try and soothe him, however, Lan Xichen called out again.

“Mingjue-gege.”

Rather than angry now, Nie Mingjue seemed to be questioning, searching, as he continued to step towards Lan Xichen, who held his ground.

Nie Mingjue stopped in front of him, and seemed to examine him briefly, but before Lan Xichen could react he reached up and caught Lan Xichen by the neck.

“Xiongzhang” Lan Wangji called.

He caught hold of the other’s wrists but of course there was nothing he could do to loosen the iron-like grip of the fierce corpse.

He was suddenly slammed against the wall of the cave, and the damage it did to the fresh discipline whip wounds on his back forced tears from his eyes and a mouthful of blood to rise up his throat. It sprayed the front of Nie Mingjue’s robes.

It seemed to make the other pause, and his grip loosened a little.

Nie Mingjue reacted like he’d been burned as the first tears rolled down Lan Xichen’s cheeks and touched his hands, and he let go of Lan Xichen’s throat and raised them to his eyeline, as if to carefully examine the teardrops.

Lan Xichen had collapsed to his knees upon release, vomiting more blood onto the ground.

“Starlight,” the voice was rough, gravelly, pushed through vocal chords that hadn���t made a sound for too many years. “Like starlight.”

Lan Xichen’s fingers flexed against the rock floor of the cave at both the voice and at the specific words used; he reached up to lock one hand in Mingjue’s robes.

He didn’t seem to notice for the moment, “Like spring rain. Like starlight,” Nie Mingjue repeated. A sudden, violent tremor shook his body.

“Where’s my Starlight?” There was an element of panic in his voice.

Lan Xichen used the hand in his robes to tug on them urgently, “I’m here. I’m right here Mingjue-gege.” he tried to climb to his feet but his knees still wobbled and wouldn’t support him.

Strong arms scooped him up instead, and he was held tenderly against Nie Mingjue’s chest.

Lan Xichen looked into Nie Mingjue’s dark eyes, and saw awareness in their depths for the first time in so long that the tears came again.

“It’s really you. You came back to me. I love you, Nie Mingjue.” There would be time later for his apologies and his regrets, but now was the time for happiness and celebration. Lan Xichen reached out to cup that familiar, well-loved face in his hands, then with a wide, happy smile he allowed unconsciousness to finally take him.

***

Lan Wangji moved over to the pair as Nie Mingjue’s throat let out a half-growl of worry and fear, “Mingjue-xiong, Xiongzhang is gravely wounded, he needs rest, but he will be fine.”

Nie Mingjue turned his eyes on Lan Wangji, “Wangji? What happened to Xichen?”

“He was beaten with the discipline whip for his part in returning you to consciousness. He has not been in the best health, and you were quite rough with him. You have a lot to be caught up on, so may I suggest you take Xiongzhang to Qinghe and ensure he takes as much rest as he needs to fully recuperate this time? I know Huaisang-xiong will be eager to see you, and no doubt give you the full account of events.”

Nie Mingjue was fixated on just one part of Lan Wangji’s sentence, “What is it with you stupid Lan men and the discipline whip?”

A small, amused smile pulled at Lan Wangji’s mouth, and he reached out a hand behind him, which Wei Ying took, and allowed Lan Wangji to pull him in to his side, “Mingjue-xiong, the Lans just recognise that some loves are worth the consequences.”

“Wei Wuxian.” Nie Mingjue recognised not the face, but the fact there would be no other man by Lan Wangji’s side, “it seems Huaisang-didi indeed has a lot of story to fill in.”

“Take care of brother for us.”

Nie Mingjue nodded; it didn’t even need to be said that of course he would.

They left for Qinghe soon after.

“Do you think we should have warned him about Huaisang and Jiang Wanyin?” Lan Wangji asked Wei Ying who was still tucked into his side.

“Absolutely not,”  the other wormed out from under his arm and threw his own around Lan Wangji’s neck; he began to rain teasing kisses against his husbands face, “but I can’t wait to hear Huaisang’s account of how Nie Mingjue chased Jiang Cheng around Qinghe when he does find out. Now take your genius husband home, Lan Zhan, it’s been a long, long few months.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji agreed.

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