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merakiui · 5 months

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thinking about androids again, but rather than the plot seen in android jade,,,, consider android floyd who is being developed by tech genius idia shroud with input and funding from business magnate azul ashengrotto.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, vaguely implied non-con/dub-con, android floyd)

He's designed to be a companion for those who are lonely and in need of the company (whether physically or socially). You're just a tired, overworked university student, so it's mind-boggling to you when there's a sleek limousine parked just beyond campus property. Security guards are insisting you come with them because there's someone who'd like to meet you.

In the limo, you find yourself sitting across from Azul Ashengrotto himself. He doesn't bother with flowery introductions, instead cutting to the heart of the matter. You've been randomly selected to help with a very important phase of his and Idia's project. The general idea is to test how well the android interacts with a normal, ordinary person in a monitored setting.

You're very confused. You never signed up for any lottery, and you certainly aren't affiliated with anything of that sort. You're just trying to get through your degree, survive two part-times, and hopefully make enough to keep afloat for another month. Azul tells you this isn't an issue; you'll be generously compensated for your time and efforts. It's only three months; you'll be permitted to live your life as you normally would, only now you'll be accompanied by a highly intelligent android.

Despite hearing all of this, you hesitate when he reveals the lengthy contract. As you flip through it, analyzing each clause and category, Azul says something that piques your interest. "We don't expect you to house an android in your little apartment. Goodness, that's simply ludicrous. We'll provide your housing for these next three months. After all, we must be able to monitor your progress."

"Housing? What do you mean?"

He smiles at you. Backdropped by leather interior, the lights casting odd shadows on his face, he looks near-sinister. But he leans forward to press a ballpoint pen into your hands and the illusion vanishes. "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. If you've finished your classes for the day, why not visit the property with me? Then you may decide whether you wish to participate."

You're not worried about that part. What worries you the most, however, is the fact that he's right. You are finished with classes for the day and you have nothing planned. You took today off from work. Your schedule is perfectly free.

But of course the Azul Ashengrotto wouldn't know that, would he?

The house is a smart home, equipped with every necessity and appliance. Everything's controlled by a remote here. It's not very far from your university either, built on a hill that overlooks houses below. It feels a little isolating and smells very new and clean. Like that fabled new car smell, only it's a house. But everything is so unique to you. Its minimalistic design is oddly cozy, and you can't help but feel enchanted the deeper you venture through the two-story home. It's all so unreal!

Azul gives you the rundown, explains how the remote and each button works. You can lock doors, open and close windows, mess with the thermostat, turn the home security on and off, and even start the oven. You hold the power to this home in the palm of your hands. It's immensely fascinating.

By the end of the tour, you're shaking his hand and signing his contract, agreeing to three months of study. Not only are you provided this nice home, you'll also be paid per week. And the pay is far more than you were making with your two jobs.

The android has a long, tongue-tying serial number, so to make things easier he's named Floyd. They even gave him a surname in preparation for the twin android who is being designed to complement and mirror him. He certainly looks human when you meet him, but there's this uncanny nature to his presence that slightly unnerves you. He's too perfect. Skin too smooth. Eyes too bright. Hair too soft. He towers over you, having to bend down to walk through the doorframe, and every movement he makes is very mechanical and stiff.

Still, you smile at him and offer your hand. "Hi there. I'm (Name). Your...housemate, I guess."

He nods, peering down at your hand before lifting his own. "Floyd Leech. At your service."

You were expecting to feel coldness, so you startle when his hand fits into yours and it's warm. It feels so very real. So deceptively lifelike. You wonder if he can regulate his own internal temperatures. Just how advanced is he?

"Right... Um, I look forward to getting to know you!"

He nods again, releasing your hand after a perfectly timed handshake.

Azul had given you a special number should you need to reach him or Idia. All you needed to do was phone it if at any point you were to feel confused or unsafe. "But I don't think you'll utilize it," he told you when you stood in the lab, watching Idia Shroud flit around to do final maintenance checks to ensure Floyd was ready for his first trial run. His eyes were open the entire time, two mismatched lights centered on you. His stare was listless, but somehow you felt as if he was looking through to your very soul. "He's very safe. In fact, he's programmed to assess and react appropriately to dangers of all kinds. You'll be safe with him around."

And safe you are.

You've always been alone, so it's nice to have a roommate, even if he only speaks when spoken to. It's awkward for all of one week until you ease into his pattern. From various vantage points throughout the house, Idia and Azul watch through hidden cameras. You cook your meals for yourself and Floyd watches, assisting when you order him to. You leave for class and Floyd waits by the door for you to return, standing stock-still for hours.

You lounge in the sitting room and put on all kinds of films. Action. Comedy. Horror. Floyd's eyes never leave the screen. But sometimes he watches you more than he watches the movie, noting all of your reactions. He doesn't understand why you get so emotional over sappy romances. So you explain it simply: "It evokes emotions. We all have emotions, and these movies make us feel them. Happy. Sad. Angry. Upset. Things like that."

But Floyd doesn't feel. Even so, he listens and he nods along, filing your answers away for later dissection. It's interesting.

By the end of the first month, Floyd's adopted new habits. Ever since you told him he's free to do as he pleases, he's taken to cooking your meals for you, doing your laundry, preparing your bag for the day. He's surprisingly good at it. He does chores when you leave for classes or work. And for the first time in a while you're excited to return home, knowing he's there waiting.

Floyd adds new words and phrases to his ever-expanding vocabulary. You watch a lot of TV together and he starts to use some of what he hears in his own speech. He picks up informal language quickly, and it isn't long until he's using words like sup or dunno instead of the rigid how are you? and I am unsure he was previously programmed with.

The first sign of unrest comes when you realize Floyd's also connected to the smart home. At first you didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, with him controlling it you won't have to worry about getting up to grab the remote if you've already sat down. Floyd can do that for you. But then the remote goes missing, later turning up shattered. You ask Floyd what happened and he looks at you and says, "Why use this piece of junk when you've got me?"

"Still... What if you're not able to help? What if you're in sleep mode and I need to open a window or something?" you argue, cradling the splinters of remote like they're an injured baby bird.

"That won't happen," he replies smoothly, issuing you a soothing smile. "I'm always gonna be here for ya. Count on it."

And you do because, by the time the three months are nearing their end and Floyd's developed into quite the companion, more and more human than he's ever seemed, you find yourself stuck.

No, not stuck. That's not quite right. You're more so trapped.

Floyd locks the doors, shutters the windows, turns off the lights. You're cowering in the closet, the only place that feels just a little safe in this moment. You can't reach Azul or Idia either. He's shut the power off, the internet connection, everything. The smart home on the hilltop feels like a tiny island now, and Floyd's the shark always circling it, waiting for you to dip your feet into the depths.

"C'mon, Shrimpy," he calls out, and it's a nickname you were once so fond of because he thought of it himself. "I already told ya I ain't gonna hurt ya. So just come out and talk to me."

You have no idea where you went wrong. Was it too many horror films? Was it the fact that you started to rely so heavily on him for companionship, ignoring your human friends in favor of staying in with Floyd? Or was it because he was blocking their numbers that you never received any messages and automatically assumed they were cutting contact? He said he'd always be here for you, so why to this degree?

The closet doors are thrown open. Floyd drags you, kicking and screaming, out by the ankles. Every camera has gone dark on Azul and Idia's end. All but one. The one in the bedroom. Floyd stares directly at it when he lifts you up and lays you on the bed, gentle and sugary-sweet.

He smiles and waves before that screen blanks out, leaving you truly trapped with him.

And because it's all experimental, morbid curiosity trumping ethical morals, no one comes to rescue you.

Three months is more of an indefinite forever in this lonesome smart home.

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst

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nana-ur · 10 months

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Corruption: Intro.

Pairings: Yandere!Taehyung x Reader || Jimin x Reader

Genre: Yandere, Romance (?), Psychological, Angst, Smut

Disclaimer: I do not condone, nor support or encourage anything I write in this fanfiction. It is purely fiction, means of entertainment, and should be treated as such. I do not think any of the BTS members would act remotely anything like what is represented here, which is why it’s called fiction. Other than that, please enjoy, and read at your own discretion.

Trigger warnings and Tags; +18, Yandere elements, Possessive and Obsessive behaviors, Toxic Relationships, Unhealthy idealization, Drug and Substance Abuse, Mommy/Daddy Issues, Slow Burn, Smut (in future chapters), Artist!Tae, Rich!Tae, Lowkey SugarDaddy!Tae, BDSM, Power Dynamics, Manipulation, Slight age difference, Naive!Reader, Easy to Manipulate!Reader, Virgin!Reader, Virginity Kink, Corruption kink.. (There’s gonna be a LOT of kinks in here for further chapters, so I’ll save the wall of text LOL.)

Intro Part. 1 Part. 2 Part. 3 Part. 4 Part. 5

Boring, he thought.

Everything about this stupid fucking event was excruciatingly boring.

First off, he didn't even want to be here. His mother forced him to come, practically dragging him outside by his own ear.

"If you still want me to sponsor your pathetic little project, it'd be smart of you to come along with me this evening." Ah yes, the typical threats of estranging him financially in hopes of him spending time with her. Typical Mrs. Kim.

The outing was a simple event where selected students who had won his fathers Academic Scholarship were rewarded a ‘party’ for their hard work and efforts. The scholarship was offered to college students who managed to make the highest ranking grades throughout their entire university. Impressive, to say the least, which is why each student present was granted $45,000 USD straight towards their college funds.

That sort of funding was simply pocket change for a man like his father.

His father was the CEO of Kim’s Legal Law Firm. It happens to be the third largest law firm in the country. Taehyung’s father has a tender soft spot for college students, especially ones who attend the same school he graduated from. Which is why he did events like this yearly, specifically for them.

But Taehyung? He could give two shits about a "Scholarly Party". He wasn't in school, nor did he want to be tied down by the ropes of education ever again. High School was more than enough, and that was years ago. He barely graduated. Though, after having his parents ``talk" to the principal of his private school, he suddenly went from having a D grade point average, to being at the top of his class in under an hour. He remembers clearly how Kim Namjoon glared daggers in his skull when he walked up the stairs leading to the stage at their highschool graduation, accepting his honors award that rightfully belonged to him instead. Taehyung couldn't really blame him, either. He'd be pissed off too if someone's rich parents paid off a school to make their irresponsible child graduate, whilst stealing his honors award that would've surely benefited him if he tried to enroll in college.

Taehyung wasn't stupid by all means, no. He was actually pretty fucking smart. It's just he hates doing work, and he hates being told what to do. So instead of attending classes, doing homework, and going to exam days; he skipped classes to smoke weed, do things he wasn't supposed to do, and fuck around. What was stopping him? Surely not his parents. They barely bat an eye when he stayed away from home for days on end when he was only 15 years old. He remembers walking in after being away for 5 days straight to his dad barely sparing him a glance, and his mother wrapping herself up in a scarf so she could go out for the night. She walked right past him, not saying a word.

Easy to say that his parents had their priorities straightened out already, and Taehyung wasn't one of them. But he doesn't care.

Or that's what he tries to tell himself when he has emotional outbursts, or when he gets arrested for DUIs, or when he gets questioned for being under the influence, and more outlandish things his parents had authorities shove under a rug.

His parents had money and generational wealth. Taehyung could do anything, say anything, and be whatever he wanted. So who cares if his parents were a little emotionally unavailable? He didn't care. Nope. Not at all. Not one bit.

But sometimes, just, sometimes, he finds himself yearning for motherly love. He finds himself wishing he had a father to look up to, instead of the stone cold businessman his own father was.

He desperately wanted to be loved by someone.

And he hated that feeling. It made him feel weak.

The feeling that gnawed at the emptiness inside of his own chest. The empty void that hurts and caves into himself whenever he sees someone receive the unconditional love he could only wish for.

Oh, how he wanted someone to love.

To hold, to cherish, to smother with affection, to be loyal to and never let go.

Never let go.

Taehyung has had his fair share of relationships, of course. He was pretty, tantalizing, rich, and he likes to think of himself as quite the charmer.

Those relationships weren’t too serious or noteworthy, honestly. Most of the women he dated were trophy girlfriends his friends set him up with. Most just dated him for status, sex, and money. Surprisingly, he had no problem with this.

It's just how the world works, isn't it?

No matter how pretty or sweet, though, he's never fallen in love with any of those women.

He's never been in love at all.

He’s felt the intense feelings of infatuation and lust, but none of those feelings lasted for more than 2 weeks. He often finds himself getting bored of the same repetitive types of women that came into his life.

There were two categories of women that Kim Taehyung seems to attract.

One being the typical spoiled woman with daddy’s black card. This type didn’t need him at all for financial reasons, they were set for life, and possibly even the afterlife. They always had a certain aura to them, that look in their eyes, that pep in the way they walk. All of which seems to remind him of his own mother. Yeah, he knows it’s weird. It’s weird to date women that remind you of your mother, but Taehyung was the farthest thing from normal.

What did Sigmund Freud say? Taehyung would think about the little bit of psychology knowledge he gained when he used to half pay attention in class often. Something about how mommy issues can lead down an unhealthy path of romantic relationships if not addressed in therapy, and so on. He thought it was quite interesting how he felt called out at that moment, which is why psychology became one of his favorite subjects while he was still in school. He may have skipped a lot, but when he was there, he tried to pay attention to the lectures.

The second category of women who Taehyung attracts were models. Not the runway, nepo baby models everyone sees on social media. No, not those.

The models who were oh so pretty, but also had that vacant lost look in their eyes. They were signed to agencies who barely let them on the runway. Not because of their looks, but because of their raging reliance on drugs and substances. The walking stereotype of a ‘The Weeknd’ song is how he would describe these women.

These women were with him for a completely different reason than the others.

Taehyung was a bit guilty when it came to having a “hero complex”. He isn’t a saint by any means; he’s done his fair share of substances. He was peer pressured to do a lot of things when he was younger.

Though, whenever he gets with these women, his goal is to “fix” them by giving them endless attention, affection, and care. He was always there when they went through withdrawals, when they were puking into plastic bags because they failed to eat prior to drowning themselves in narcotics and powder. He would rub their backs, help them take a cold shower, fix them soup, and hold them until they fell asleep.

Taehyung had a soft spot for these women. Because he understands.

He understood the pain. The desperation to feel nothing.

To fill that empty void with something. Something.

These women were crying for help, so why not help them?

It filled him with a sense of importance after helping these women get clean. It was like he was healing his inner child in a sick, twisted way. Though, like most things, those relationships came to an end.

Although it was never really his fault these relationships would end.

He was too “demanding”, “controlling”, “possessive”, he’s been told by most, if not all, of the women he’s been involved with.

They never truly accepted him for who he was. They were the foolish ones, not him.

If they just understood him, if they would just understand.

Which is why he’s never fallen in love before.

That was the ‘love’ life of Kim Taehyung. It was sad and depressing, but it’s something he had to get used to. It was all he was ever exposed to growing up. It was all he knew.

Maybe one day, things would be different. Happen differently.

Perhaps, authentically, unlike his past.

Perhaps he could fall in love.

He dreamed about such things. It would keep him up at night with a beating heart.

He was a disgusting hopeless romantic.

“Are you paying attention?” Taehyung quickly blinked out of his short-lived daze and cocked his head down towards the voice. It was his mother, looking at him with those judgemental eyes he once used to hide from. Now, it doesn’t scare him anymore.

But it made him feel significantly small nonetheless.

God, he hated being here. It was so tacky.

Everyone was instructed to wear white. Though Taehyung, obviously, chose to be a little shit to piss off his mom and wore a black turtleneck, with a black blazer and even blacker slacks. His black hair was styled to where his fringe was covering most of his forehead, and slightly his eyes which were a light gray today, due to his contacts. Black on black.

He nodded his head towards his mother, ushering her to continue on with what she was saying even though he dissociated for most of it.

Something he learned how to do at a very young age with ease.

“As I was saying,” she snapped, “your father wants you to greet some of the students. It would be beneficial for you to ask questions about college life, possibly even make some new friends tonight," Taehyung groaned internally, rolling his eyes in a way that his mother wouldn’t catch on. Here comes the “you need to go to school and study” talk. He would always shut it down. He’s 27 years old, too old to even be considered a senior at this point.

To please his mother and to make her stop talking, he walked away from the railing he was leaning on and looked down into his wine glass, swirling it around to watch the red liquid create ripples.

Looking up, he immediately spots his father speaking to what he presumes to be a student. The student was dressed in a plain, silky short back-out white gown with spaghetti straps.

With her rear side facing his direction, it was hard to make out what the conversation was about. Maybe his father was being the creep he always was when it came to hanging around girls decades younger than him.

He can usually tell by the look in his fathers eyes, which seemed innocent to others, but Taehyung knew better than that. He knew his father well, even if he had no desire to.

But all he could think about was how enticing she looked, even from behind where her face was hidden. The curve of her torso allowed the silky dress to hug her body perfectly, creating a silhouette that would give any Greek sculpture a run for its money. Dragging his eyes up and down her figure, he finds himself absentmindedly outlining the perimeter of her body with his irises, imprinting it into his own memory.

Taehyung had an excellent photographic memory.

It was strange, really. He was never someone to be enticed by “energy”, and he was never one to approach women. Not that he didn’t want to, it’s just that he didn’t have to. Any woman he was interested in came to him first without fail. But something was pulling him forward, beckoning him to approach the mysterious girl.

Which is exactly what he did.

His steps were calculated, precise. Making good first impressions was a piece of cake for Kim Taehyung, something he was often praised for from time to time. Which is probably the reason why his parents forced him to come to this tedious event. They used him as the token golden boy, utilizing his charms and making him talk to perverted, older guests that came to their events, hoping that he’d win their favor in exchange that his father gets to strengthen his connections. They started doing this when he turned 18, making use of his good looks and people skills.

Earning his parents' respect as their son isn’t easy. Especially a son who belonged to the Kim family. He had to attend the same university as his father, and to not make a mockery out of the family name. In which, he failed to do both. Saying he has their respect now is a stretch, but they found him to be useful when it came to winning over disgusting old CEOs and Chaebols.

His brother, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He graduated from university with high honors, even went ahead and attended graduate school as well, then he went to law school. He completed all of this by the time he turned 30.

Taehyung appreciates that his brother took up all the responsibility, and the burden of expectations off of his shoulders.

However,

Deep inside, real deep inside, he could only dream of being the center of his parents' life the way Seokjin was. They loved him. Doted on him. Spoiled him. Gave him all the extra love and affection that should’ve gone to Taehyung instead.

As a teenager, he was resentful towards his brother for the obvious showcase of favoritism his parents did. They didn’t even try to hide it. They would compare the two any chance they got; rubbing in the accomplishments of his elder brother in his face, reminding him that he will amount to nothing in life.

Nothing but a burnt out artist, is what his father says.

But whatever, Taehyung didn’t care. Not one bit.

“Hello, son,” His father greeted him once he noticed Taehyung's formidable figure saunter over, the tone of his voice evidently curt and strict in contrast to the lighthearted conversation he was having with the young lady.

Ah, great. It was just as he guessed. His father was being a creep, and was actively flirting with this poor girl. Good thing Taehyung was here to save her from his fathers inappropriate stares and invasive questions.

Sparing his father a tight lipped smile, he walks past the young lady to align himself right next to his father, finally.

Finally, he could see her face.

And wow.

Everything around him became blurred, every sound that tried to meet his ears became all jumbled together, like indecipherable radio signals.

All he could focus on was you.

You.

With his unexpected appearance, you instinctively looked up at him, his gray eyes meeting your own. He tilted his head to the side and gave you a cheeky grin, in which you reciprocated with your own, skittish smile.

That smile.

He’ll never forget a smile like that, that’s for sure.

The apples of your cheeks were rosy with dew and the afterglow of being in such a warm venue. Taehyung thought the sight of it was absolutely breathtaking.

His gray eyes stayed on yours, unwavering. He intensely scanned your face, jotting down each little detail into his mind.

Noticing the fervor of his gaze, you tore your eyes away from the fervent unwarranted stare-off and looked down at your feet, your face flushing with heat.

Aw.

He wanted to look into your eyes for a little bit longer.

But that’s okay, he’ll get your attention one way or another.

After all, he just couldn’t help himself.

Your face was just his type.

Would it be a stretch for him to say everything about the way you look was just his type? Perhaps, but Taehyung was known for moving extremely fast.

In more ways than one.

“I’d like for you to meet Ms.____,” his father uttered out your first name. It sounded like a symphony to Taehyung's ears. A pretty face and a pretty name, huh.

How unfair.

Your name began to replay like a broken record inside of his head. Sounding out each syllable internally, his tongue dragged across the side of his cheek before testing the name out loud in a hushed whisper.

The way your name began to reiterate persistently in his head – It would drive any sane person crazy.

Good thing Taehyung was the latter.

“Well, Ms.___,” Taehyung scooped up your hand into his own, hoping the abrupt swift action will bless him with your soft gaze once again.

And it did.

With wide eyes, your neck nearly snapped as you rose your head from its previous position of looking down. You stared at him with big doe eyes, confusion swirling in your irises.

That expression on your face was dangerous.

Especially for a man like him.

He brought your delicate hand up towards his red tinted lips, all while maintaining eye contact. He could feel you trembling in the palm of his hand.

What were you doing to him?

He felt slightly bewitched by you. He’s met his fair share of gorgeous women. Hell, he’s even met some of the world's most infamous models.

But none of them compared to you.

None of them had this effect on him.

None of them took his breath away like this.

None of them at all.

He placed a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, a mellow smile spreading across his face when his lips met your soft, warm skin.

“It’s a pleasure, pretty girl,” He whispered loud enough for you to hear, his breath fanning onto the skin of your hand.

He slowly backed away, not letting your hand go just yet, leading it downwards but still holding it firm in his grip. He had to savor your reaction before he retracts completely.

He could tell you were wary with the sudden public display of affection, especially right in front of his own father. But truly, Taehyung didn’t give a fuck. He was someone who didn’t care if anyone was watching, especially his own father. Social anxiety or upholding social status wasn’t something for him to worry about.

And you’ll come to find that out very soon.

Sooner than you think.

Your eyes glossy, blown out, and your mouth was slightly gaped open from shock; it sent a concealed chill down his spine. Was a pretty girl like you not used to such things? The thought alone baffled him.

Impossible, he thought.

“U-uh–,” you stammered out incohesive words, your eyes darting between him and his father, worry, confusion, and conflicting attraction clear in your eyes. It was cute, how worried you got over something as small as a hand kiss.

“Nice… to meet you too? Mister…” you were dodging every attempt at eye contact Taehyung was throwing your way, but he wasn’t having it. Wherever you looked, his head would follow with a tilt and a smirk, teasing you in a playful way you weren’t used to.

“Taehyung, but for you? My name can be whatever your heart desires.”

He’s used that cringy pick-up line many times. Most of the time it was just to please the other person, give them something they want to hear. Usually never what he wanted.

But he meant it when he said it to you.

That same, irresistible nervous smile crept back onto your face at his words. Your neck once again flushing hot. This time, though, your eyes were focused on how his hand was still grasping yours.

Taehyung took this as an opportunity to grab another reaction out of you, he began rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

At this, you jumped softly, clearly not used to someone touching you like this.

Or touching you at all.

And for some reason, that thought alone excited him like nothing else.

Suddenly, Taehyung felt his fathers hand creep onto his shoulder.

Unexpectedly this annoyed him.

More than it usually does.

“It seems like you are already acquainting yourself with Miss.___,” his father spoke in a way that seemed placate to others, but Taehyung knew better. He was being a passive aggressive shithead.

“Oh you know, just doing what you wanted me to, Father,” Taehyung quickly retorted back, a tight smile forming on his lips.

His father had the nerve to get pissy as if he didn’t force him to attend this mundane event in the first place? Yeah, sure, Taehyung was grabbing the attention of the girl his father was openly flirting with, but didn’t he see how uncomfortable you were?

He could tell how tense the mood was when he got closer to the two of you earlier. The way you were holding your left arm with your right hand, folding into yourself as his father got closer and closer to your personal bubble.

You clearly weren’t interested.

At Taehyung’s smart aleck comment, his father shot him a look that only he caught, and walked away slowly after retracting his hand from his shoulder.

It was better to not make a scene where people were watching. His father was extremely anal on how he was perceived; he wanted others to see him in a specific type of light. He was probably on his way to bother some other college student, anyway. Either way, Taehyung was glad he left.

Finally, old fuck.

It’s about damn time he developed erectile dysfunction or something, how old is he again?

Regrouping himself, he finally let it sink in that you two were finally alone.

Finally,

“Oh god, did I,” you stammered, “did I just make it really awkward? Oh my god.”

How peculiar. It was obvious that his father was the one who ruined the mood to begin with, but you resorted to blaming yourself instead.

How peculiar.

“Sorry I’m just not, you know… used to this,” you gestured your free hand around the venue you two were currently in the middle of. Everything was glistening with marble, glitter, blinding shades of white, and overly priced furniture. To anyone not used to such a lifestyle, it would of course be overwhelming.

But to Taehyung, it just seemed tacky.

Tacky and distasteful.

If it were up to him, the whole idea of everything being white would be thrown out the window.

What’s up with rich people and their odd obsession with things white and marbley?

“Not used to try-hard rich people and their shitty interior designing?” Taehyung quipped, a smirk present on his lips as he raised his wine glass for a sip.

“What?! No! No. I, well… no!” the screws in your head were visibly malfunctioning, fighting with each other, trying to decide whether or not you should directly insult the interior of the venue right in front of him. Given the fact that he was the son of the man who invited you to such an event, and granted you a scholarship.

And possibly the son of the man who came up with the interior design of everything you’re looking at.

A chuckle rumbled in Taehyung's chest as he watched your internal and outward struggle. He could tell by the quick glint in your eyes that you agreed with him, but were too afraid to say something that would cause conflict. Tilting his head to the side, he raised his wine glass once again to his lips, taking a swig of it while he looked you up and down over the rim.

To his surprise, you still haven’t retracted your hand from his.

Lowering his drink, his tongue pressed to the side of his cheek once again out of habit.

You still weren’t looking at him.

“You know, it’s rude to refuse eye contact, pretty girl,” he said matter-of- factly in a teasing tone, fauxing disappointment.

“Oh,” you breathed out, clearly flustered at the recurring pet name and with the fact that he just called out your inability to maintain eye contact.

With hesitancy, you looked up at him, your eyes shifting left and right a few times before settling on his intense gray orbs.

It seemed to have surprised you that he was staring at you intensely this whole time because the moment your eyes connected with his, your body shifted. To his disappointment, you slowly retracted your hand from his, putting it back to your side.

With his now free hand, Taehyung lifted it towards your face. And like any normal person, you flinched and moved backwards a bit. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

Cute.

But, he couldn’t hold himself back.

He had to do something.

He tested the waters first, nudging his fingers against your jaw, caressing the outline of the bone before cupping your right cheek. His hand gently melts onto your warm, soft skin. He looks at you intently, deep in thought.

You were so beautiful.

Dangerously so. Taehyung wasn’t the type to be bewitched like this.

His fingers caressed your warm face, your wide eyes trembling at him with uncertainty, confusion. He dragged his thumb from your cheek down to the supple lumps of your lips. He began gliding the digit left and right on your bottom lip before slowly pulling down on the muscle, revealing just a peak of your bottom teeth and the soft wet flesh on the inside, your gums a pretty pink.

Even with all of this going on, he still maintained eye contact with you. His gaze never wavering.

And his mind began to wander.

It began to wander to menacing thoughts.

Taehyung was known for having… an acquired taste, when it came to certain things. He’s been told so by many women in his life. It’s not like he wanted to like those things, it just happened by default. Things that excite him, that shouldn’t excite him. Things that he likes to do to others, to the people he’s interested in. Things such as bending and twisting them at his will, pulling a leg here, doing a thing there, just to pull a reaction out of them. He knew such things were red flags, concerning even. But if it was between two consenting adults, what was the problem?

Which is why he began to envision this woman he just met a few minutes ago sucking on his thumb. He imagined the look you would have in your eyes; innocent, glossy, excited, scared, unsure. He imagined the soft, spongy texture of your tongue, slick on his finger, how you’d open up for him like a good girl. And those eyes. They were dangerous, Taehyung decided. Looking at them for too long already had him spiraling with these thoughts.

You knew what you were doing, didn’t you?

Like a twig, he snapped out of his daze. His eyes finally focusing on you quickly taking a step back, wiping away the inkling of spit that dripped out of your mouth as a result of your bottom lip being pried open. With a red face, you looked at him, completely disoriented and confused.

Taehyung didn’t even notice the wetness on his thumb, or the spittle that trickled down the digit onto his knuckle.

Ah, oops.

“W-what was that-,” you stuttered out, your hand clasping against your mouth in shock, eyes frantically looking around, relief sagging on your shoulders when you noticed no one was looking. But there was a cloud hanging over your head, weighing down on you.

A cloud you didn’t quite understand.

Just yet.

“Become my muse.”

“What-,” You blinked at him, completely caught off guard.

“Let me paint you. Be my muse.” He cut you off before you could question him any further.

Taehyung had already made up his mind the moment he set eyes on you. Even when your back was facing him; he already knew what he wanted.

And Taehyung was a man known for getting exactly what he wanted.

#bts yandere #male yandere #taehyung #yandere taehyung #yandere #yandere x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #bts fic #yandere bts x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung fanfiction

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WANNA BE YOURS. + THE RIDDLER

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? summary. Working the night shift in Gotham City, where sociopaths and criminals are constantly on the loose, makes you concerned about your own safety. Until you meet a dull man named Edward, whom you enjoy teasing during your work shift. What's the worst that could happen? author's note. hey horny people! porn this time!

[ ❥ ] pairing. riddler x fem!reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 5.3k sorry again

[ ❥ ] genre. +18, PWP

[ ❥ ] warnings. language, manipulation, musty ass reader, reader being a discord mod, obsessive behavior, bottom!riddler, dense reader, incel Edward, awkward flirting, car sex, slight hand kink, unprotected sex, choking, dense reader, unhealthy relationship, corruption kink?

[ ❥ ] You yawned into your palm, your fingers reaching up to subconsciously adjust the septum piercing that dangled from your nose as your fingers went back to finding themselves tapping against the keys of the overheating laptop that was nested on top of your hip bone.

Your head was angled to sit up by the excessive number of pillows at the headboard of your bed as your eyes were tiredly glued to the brightly lit computer screen.

You wet your chapped lips, your tongue dragging along your lips before taking your bottom lip in between your teeth as you scrolled through the discord channels of your active friend server.

You lived in Gotham your entire life. You were aware of the crime rates and all the bad shit that people would compare your city to, and honestly, you didn't blame them, as you were even too paranoid and filled with anxiety to leave your own house without being glued to the hip with your parents by your side.

You knew it was pathetic being a 20-year-old secret college dropout with a shitty night shift job at some diner just to help ease your subconscious mind of the seeping guilt you felt constantly mooching and freeloading off of your parent's funds. You were a grown woman yet felt so directionless, having graduated from high school.

You sort of realized that people didn't care what you were truly doing with your life if it didn't benefit them or serve any purpose of entertainment. In your extended family's eyes, you were just simply the quiet cousin/niece that just followed orders from everyone, the cousin who was too spineless to stick up for themselves or got picked on and called a crybaby.

But what they didn't know was that you ruled another world, a world within the internet.

You were a very niche true-crime Youtuber, gaining your following from true crime compilations and edited documentaries on the sociopaths that caught the light of fame because they lived in your city.

You were Gotham's most adored faceless source of information other than the corrupted aired news that was controlled by the city. What people liked about you was that you were real. You didn't care about higher-ups or give in to the bribes of rich people trying to hide the criticism.

You were just another victim of your city's shit system and had used your channel to voice it.

You welcomed the internet as your only safe space as the coded community welcomed you with open arms. You had actual friends and fans online and grew a pretty decent-sized community.

Of course, most of the "fans" were mostly just parasocial creeps with a fetish for criminals and tragedies, but it didn't matter because it wasn't like they could tell that secretly you were judging their lives since they didn't know your real name nor any information to discover your true identity.

You weren't undercover using an alias for the privacy of yourself and the safety of your family.

Aside from the caped Bat who roamed the streets locally, you demonstrated yourself to be the most polished detective in the city. Your fans admired your ability to work safely in the shadows. Many of your parasocial fans even went as far as funding your lifestyle. Of course, you took all the gifts and money as the donations were very lucrative.

The amount that your fans would give wasn’t enough for the end goal. You aimed to move out of Gotham City and into a safer city. Also, in terms of your bad spending habits, you would find enjoyment in doordashing food from the comfort of your full-size bed.

You could count on your fingers how many times you’ve left the house in the last month, blessing the subscriber that funded enough money for you to have the high tech laptop that you could complete all of your blogs and edit videos on.

Aside from your family and the small number of coworkers and customers you had to tolerate, you didn't have much going for you outside of the internet.

You have to turn on your mic just to have any sort of social interaction in your life outside of your parents asking you to come down to eat dinner because all your friends are voices hidden behind stupid usernames.

A hum left your lips as you heard the annoying discord ping notification spam through your laptop speakers. You had managed to complete a small group of people into a more inner circle using the superfans as content mules, as they would commonly ramble about gossip that happened in the city like they walked the same streets as you.

As you opened the group chat and read the chat logs of your friends spamming links of a live streamer in Gotham going on a rampage. You never disclosed a lot of personal information with your internet friends. As much as they liked to believe, you didn't trust them.

The creeping fear that they would piece too much of your privacy together and ruin the persona of your only main source of income makes you shiver just by the thought of it.

Your online username was gothicgrims, a play on words as your content was mainly about Gotham and its daily rising crime rate in the niche community of true crime.

You were the queen of the city news. Some of your blog posts even reached the modern news eye as they would use your blog as a credited source. Of course, the shout-out only made it harder for you to keep a low profile. You would take extra care that you wouldn't leave even the smallest traces of your identity anywhere in your words.

Folktales: check this fucker out he’s planning something insane!

Zobner: dude hes probably making a fucking BOMB LMAO

gothicgrims: how is that funny?

gothicgrims: he’s just another incel looking for the gotham news clout

Folktales: lol

Marzbarz: yeah but are you gonna do a video on him?

Marzbarz: asking for a friend :eyestare:

gothicgrims: giving me something actually interesting to write about :yawn:

Folktales: yeah but his voice tho :lipbyte:

Zobner: not you being horny for another musty masked man on main

Marzbarz: im tryna see what's under the mask :ughh:

gothicgrims: you all need serious therapy.

Though you were more serious in your comments, your friends were pretty dense and reflected most of your sarcastic remarks blinded by the power trip of you being a famous role model they looked up to, and you had admittedly gotten used to talking freely with your emotions to only the muggle group chat full of people.

cheeks puffed out as your cursor hovered over the highlighted link. You sighed, stretching your fingers before clicking on the link, waiting as your browser loaded the live streaming page.

Your brow furrowed at the contrast of neon green and dark background. You assumed the male was using his website to stream onto the platform, ticking off another mental red flag in your head as you quickly checked your VPN to ensure it was still active while logged in.

You sat up against your headboard, snuggling your back deeper into your pillows for a comfortable seat as the man on your screen seemed to be moving around as his camera shook the blur of his green mask, bloating the vertical screen as you pressed the volume key on your laptop.

Plugging in your old trusty head buds as you pressed the volume key on your laptop, bloating the vertical screen as you pressed the volume key on your keyboard, plugging in your old trusty head

The moment the man started speaking again, you tapped your volume keys a few more times to a higher volume as his gentle voice played through your headphones, a shiver of goosebumps running up your arms.

You placed a hand against your mouth, masking the embarrassed smirk from no one as you glanced at your bedroom door and jumped up from your mattress, shamelessly shedding your pants as you reached across your small bedroom and flicked the lock on your doorknob.

A sigh left your lips as you crawled back under your blankets and tuned back into the stream, or more so, the male's voice once more.

You could tell he wasn't used to being in front of the camera by the way he uttered, but what piqued your interest was the pattern in which he spoke.

Even in his own company, he appeared nervous, but intelligent in the subject he was attempting to discuss.

Wait, was a fucking masked dork talking about making a bomb was turning you on?

As you traced your hands down your stomach, your fingers hesitated as they reached the material of your underwear. A wave of arousal mixed with shame washed over you.

The light poured in through the window. He sat behind a white blare that ate up half of the screen since he had placed the phone on the floor. The male appeared to be sitting on the floor, droning on about weaponry you were unfamiliar with.

It wasn't like you cared as your fingers finally broke through the barrier of your waistband. Quietly finding the warmth of your core, a low whimper escaped your mouth as your other hand teased your clothed buds that peaked from the cotton lounge shirt you had been wearing for a week straight.

You would pleasure yourself without interruption to the man's voice all the way until your orgasm. As post-nut clarity settled in, you slammed your laptop shut hard as you buried your face into your pillows, the sound of only your muffled frustration bouncing off the walls of your bedroom.

Another message ping interrupted your pity party as you turned your head against your fluffy pillow. Your arm swung lazily to grab your phone from the nightstand, where you cringed as you read the message notification.

Bitch ass boss: short notice Pam is bailed.

Bitch ass boss: but need you to do closing tonight.

The message from your boss kills any remaining vestiges of your lady boner as you set a 6 pm alarm and then a 7 pm alarm, knowing you'd most likely hit snooze by accident, deciding to spend the rest of your free time before work cuddling into your blankets half-naked and falling down strange rabbit holes of YouTube videos you'd saved to watch later.

The diner you worked at was decorated in the classic 80s diner style, with neon signs, harsh counters, and strict musty costumes that featured far more skin than you were comfortable wearing while taking lunch orders from middle-aged couples.

When you first considered applying for the job, you were familiar with the drawbacks of working part-time for a boss who didn't care about his employees as long as he was making money.

Though your safety had never been in jeopardy, you had been working the same job since junior year of high school.

Dealing with rude coworkers and old creepy men who needed a strong reminder that they didn't walk into a Hooters and that groping you was not acceptable.

Your parents cared enough to buy you your own car, not wanting you to walk the few blocks at the break of dawn.

It was a peaceful night, well as peaceful as it could get in Gotham. As you walked past one of your coworkers taking a smoke break in the back of the restaurant, you locked your car and tossed your tote back over your shoulder, the loud clicking of your car keys in hand.

As you entered the building, you gave them a tightly closed mouth smile, instantly wincing from the bright restaurant overhead light beaming all along the kitchen roof.

You took a turn to the restrooms to change into your uniform, your back against the door just in case someone tried to open the door as you were changing.

You yawned giving yourself a once over in the dirty mirror, your hands reaching down to flatten the skirt of your dress as you wiped your nose with the back of your hand not bothering to wash your hands as you exited the restroom you locked your bag into one of the employee lockers or at least attempted too as most of the locks were busted from everyone always trying to steal from them.

You were wise enough to keep your car keys and phone in your pockets at all times, leaving only your purse and a change of clothes in your bag.

The restaurant wasn't busy, just a few lingering people sitting in booths talking amongst themselves already situated, you only assumed an earlier server got to them before your shift started as you exhaled plopping yourself in front of the cash restaurant and instantly taking out your phone, you decided now was the perfect time to do a deep dive on the male you were using as wank bank material earlier.

You rested your chin in your palm, your elbow on the counter, and used your thumb to scroll through the rest of his saved live streams.

You made the best of your repetitive shift. As you tapped one of the older streams, your eyes were glued to your phone. Looking up and scanning the environment, you quickly realized that no one gave a fuck that you were sitting there as you turned up the volume just loud enough to make out some of the words he was saying but not loud enough for the others across the room to hear.

They were pretty much all in the same format you would study, the male asking for help from the weird community of people that watched his videos.

You assumed it was some weird 4chan group wanting attention but the farther you scanned through his page the more you would realize how seriously dangerous his plans truly were.

A deep panic creeps up your skin as you were hung up on every word that came from the masked male's mouth. “Excuse me.” You slammed your phone down on the counter making the standing male across from you slight flinch, his nature instantly coming off timid as he gave you a feared glance you awkwardly chuckled off your frightened reaction.

Putting on your customer service smile trying to milk your way into getting milk with every opportunity, “sorry about that, can I get you anything?” you tone a falsely sweet tone as you slide your phone back into your pocket glancing at the man quickly you could already tell he was staring at your exposed cleavage.

His cheeks a pinch of pale pink as his eyes seemed to just fall into a trance of your boobs you crossed your arms in front of your chest the man looking up at you in confusion almost like he didn't even realize himself that he was staring until breaking away from from the trance.

His fingers fidgeted as he looked around the entire place, everything except the person in front of him. "Uh, I'm sorry…" his voice was gentle when he spoke almost like he was afraid that you reached over the counter and smack the shit out of him.

A smile couldn't help but to creep onto your lips as you only chuckled placing a washed mug in front of him, "awe man, it's alright as long as you're only looking and not touching we won't have a problem, you a coffee guy?" and from the one question that bloomed, you bonded with the man who would soon be your regular.

That made the closing shift not too bad with his constant bright and calm demeanor presence. In contrast to your highly sarcastic and blunt personality, you were surprised at how natural the friendship had formed between the two of you from behind the counter.

You grew so close to each other enough to know and exchange names with each other that you would come to realize that he was one of the first actual friends that you could talk to face to face in a while. Unbeknownst to you, Edward felt the same way, and that fucking terrified him every night.

You were the distraction he never wanted to come into his life at the worst time. He would constantly worry about you and his connection revealing the worst side of him.

The creeping fear that you found about his alter ego and dehumanizing him was one of his biggest fears as he would spend the late nights staying up just to talk to you on the same bar stool getting the same order every day. "You have to try the fucking pumpkin pie here. It's insane. It's like Sal sold his fucking soul for it to come out that perfect."

You would vouch for all the food he would order, though your conversations were always involved with him spending money, not to mention the times you would force him to tip you.

Sometimes your conversations would have him thinking about you for days, your words lingering in the back of his mind at the worst possible time. You'd often linger in these thoughts, his fist angrily tugging at his cock as he kneeled against his carpeted floors, his cock flushed with anger as his tip leaked cum right into his hand.

You two had one thing in common, both perverts with a knack for justice. Edward would instantly undercover your little YouTube channel even your full name and identity just in under the first week of knowing you.

He was not some silly 20-year-old with a hobby; he was a fucking sociopath with a plan, and that plan had taken him many years to develop since he stepped foot out of that horrible orphanage. He was angry nonetheless.

You had proved to be heavy destruction, a speed bump as he leaned his head against his wall for more stability. Edward didn't bother hiding his grunting and moaning as he angrily beat his cock to an image of you that was posted on your mother's Facebook.

It was your 20th birthday picture. The picture was taken at an upward angle as you stared up into the camera with big doe eyes. You had white frosting all over your face, having just had your birthday smashed against your face as a prank. After blowing your candles, your pointer finger rested in your mouth, your plump lips wrapping around the knuckle.

Your tongue stuck out from the underside of the finger. Edward imagines himself in your mouth, his big harsh manly palms caressing your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips as you sucked his finger with the same flirtatious look; God, you were driving him insane.

Edward sat on his legs, his head leaning to rest his forehead on the same floor, as he came undone with the pump of his fist. His cum just rested inches away from his face, soaking into the carpet.

You had too much power over him.

He hated that his mind spiraled with every mistake, every fuckup that you would manage to cause by just existing, and then he finally decided... you had to go.

Your shift started like every other night, changing in the bathroom to having too much downtime. The only difference between today and yesterday was that Edward was waiting for you this time.

You moved behind the counter and in front of him, tilting your head and squinting at the man.

Noticing his pumpkin pie plate and a warm-looking cup of coffee in front of him. "You fucking cheater! I thought I was your one and only favorite waitress!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms over your chest.

Edward considered how well your arms pushed up against your breasts, how you managed to show off your body to him without realizing how much you were displaying yourself to him.

"Just wanted to try something new before it was too late." You were dense. Edward quickly discovered his words that held greater meaning seemed to just slip into your ear and go out the other.

It was that way for a lot of people he had met in his lifetime. Though he found your ignorance endearing, dotting the way your head would tilt in confusion when he rambled on about something you didn't understand or how you would always use your humor to hide how much of a dummy you were.

He wished he could keep you forever, preserve you from the harm of the world.

Don't get him wrong, he has considered kidnapping you from the comfort of your own home and dragging your body to his apartment, chaining your feet to the radiator in the corner of his apartment living room.

He would be able to control everything you did, but at least you were smart when it came to defending yourself.

You overpowered him in strength, no doubt. Edward, no matter how much height he had on you, was not the type to engage in any form of arm exercise, as he frequently defeated his enemies with weapons.

He knew that if he were to get into an altercation with you, you would manage to catch him off guard by using pure strength.

"What's one thing you always wanted to do before you died?" The question was unprompted as you simply glanced at Edward from your phone screen, your mindless scrolling on Twitter coming to a halt as you sat your phone down on the counter, starting to ponder as you bit your bottom lip.

Edward waited patiently with the same slight smile on his face. His eyes considered kind as his arms rested on the counter of the table. He was dragging his fingers along the mug of his coffee as he gave you his full attention.

You lifted your pointer finger in the air. "My first kiss, I mean, I want to have my first kiss, you know, like the whole feeling of fireworks and roses flowing around me."

The answer was not what Edward was expecting. As he lifted his brow, you quickly took notice of how he was staring at you. "What, you think you're the only adult virgin here, buddy?" You chuckled, your attention going back to your phone screen.

"I want—what if I could help you with that?" Your attention perched as you lowered your phone once more, a deep smirk setting on your lips as you used your elbows to lean closer towards Edward's face.

You were flirting again, an activity that would often leave Edward flushed pink and you triumphant as you had managed to fluster the man to the point of stuttering and stumbling. It was a fun pastime for you.

"You wanna kiss me, Eddy?" He hated nicknames, especially the times you would use them.

He just didn't see the point of you shortening his already short name. He liked the way his last name rolled off your tongue, almost like you were saying it just to tease him.

"If that's the only thing you want, I'm happy to offer your last wish." You thought it was weird how suddenly forward Edward was tonight.

You thought it was even more weird seeing him set a briefcase down on the counter before following you outside. But the fear instantly went away as he linked his fingers in between yours, giving you that same shy look as he peered up at you over his glasses.

You would admit how much you were a hopeless romantic as you clocked out for a break and led Edward outside to the front of the restaurant. Leaning on your car hood, as Edward stood awkwardly across from you, you reached your arms out to grab his wrist and pull him in between your legs.

"Don't get all shy on me now, Eddy." God, he really fucking hated that nickname. The way you smirked up at him with those big fucking eyes, he let his actions get ahead of his thoughts as his thumb traced over your chin.

He ignored your slight flinch reaction as his fingers seemed to study the structure of your face. He might as well soak it all in while he can.

"You're into some kinky shit Eds." You gagged, his pointer finger shoving into his mouth as his chest rose from the warm feeling of your tongue wrapping around the digit almost instantly.

Spoke in a slight mumble, careful to not bring your teeth down as you spoke. He still couldn't believe that he was getting away with the action as his other hand tilted your head up farther so you could peer up at him through your lashes.

The way your dark eyes glistened as you looked up at him expecting something made him remember what you would look like kneeling to the ground begging his name.

"I want to do more than kiss you." His confession was dull as he stared at your mouth.

The way your lips wrapped around his pointer, a slight chuckle making your teeth flash from your mouth as Edward looked at you looking for any sign of discomfort.

You pulled your head around from his hands, wetting your lips. As you leaned back against your hood, a groan left your throat as you buried your face in your hands.

Edward was ready to back out in an instant as he backed away from your hand and shot out to grab his arm.

"You're so fucking unbearable, Edward," you grumbled, yanking the male closer as your head slumped into his chest.

He quickly realized, looking down at you, that you were more embarrassed and nervous than him. Given the situation, he felt an even more flaming desire as he glanced at his wrist for the time being. He needed everything to go on schedule.

"Can we... do it?" You snorted a laugh into his chest, tilting your head up to look at him again for a second before pushing the male away to stand up ."Only if you want to." It was the first time he’d ever seen you so flustered because of him.

Edward nodded his head in approval the instant the question left your lips. You smiled at him, biting your bottom lip, unlocking your car as you both slid into the back.

Your skin was already hot as you were convinced he could hear the sound of your heart beating so hard against your ribs as you both sat in a minute of silence.

Edward sighed before grabbing your face and smashing his lips into yours. You hissed into his mouth as your teeth clashed together from the force.

But you both quickly recovered as you crawled into his lap, his hands finding your hips as he thrust up between your legs.

You trailed kisses against his neck. Edward leaned his head to the side to give you better access as you sucked a small trail down against his throat.

Your hands trailed down his chest and to the belt buckle that held up his jeans. As you fumbled to pull at the buckle, you groaned in frustration, your head snapping up to look up at him with concentration glistening in your eyes.

"Help me please." Edward was convinced that most of his blood had already made its way to his dick, as the simple request caused him to become dizzy, causing him to shift his hips up to unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down to his thighs.

He hesitated before pulling down his boxers as well, exposing his cock as it yanked from the material springing to his chest.

You breathed out. Your legs spread on each side of Eds as you lifted yourself and pushed your underwear aside with your thighs.

While you gripped his cock and guided the inches deeper into your core, your stomach began to burn as you buried your face into the man's neck. You groan as you lower yourself further down.

Edward groaned, his hand resting on your hip as the other fisted the roof of your car, every twitch and groan melting him farther into you as he leaned his head back and let you set the pace.

As you bottomed out, you both groaned with his cocked buried inside. You paused to catch your breath, feeling yourself throb around his length as Edward whimpered. You pulled back your arm using the headrest behind you as your other hand rested on his chest.

Edwards squeezed his eyes shut so hard that he was seeing white spots. He was finding it difficult to sit still and not react to your cunt squeezing his dick. "If you cum in me, I'll fucking kill you," you grunt, pressing your chest against his as you slowly lift yourself, wincing as your body desperately tries to adjust to being fucked.

Your legs shook as you practically bounced against his dick. The air in the car is hot and stuffy as you both begin to sweat from each other's body heat, moaning into each other's mouths. His hands were trailing up your shirt, desperately groping your chest through your bra as you ground your hips into his lap.

All that could be heard was the sound of your skin slapping together along with Edward's low whimpering and your moaning. The car jerked every time you would slam down into his lap.

The more you got the hang of it, the more arousing it became as you wrapped your arms over his shoulder to hold yourself closer to him. Your legs began to tire as you sat in his lap and ground your hips to chase the new sensation building in the pit of your stomach.

Then Edward began thrusting his hip into yours as you leaned your head back and strung together moans. Your legs were shaking as you came undone.

Edward quickly followed your orgasm, raising you slightly to pull his cock out and onto the front of your dress.

"I have to walk back inside covered in cum now." You nibbled at his lip as you leaned down to passionately kiss the fucked speechless Edward, before using his shirt to smear some of the stains off of your dress and readjusting your underwear.

"What time is it?" You groaned, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

You shifted yourself over to sit in the other backseat as Edward pulled himself together, tucking himself back into his underwear and pulling up his pants.

Almost fucking him dumb as he had almost forgotten to check the time on his wristwatch. The moment the question settled in his brain, he recognized the situation once more, the plan almost slipping from his mind.

"You should probably go back inside now." When he mumbled, fixing his belt and refusing to meet your eyes, you assumed the innocent reasoning and assumed he was the type to get nervous after inanimate solutions, so you followed suit to his request.

Leaving the man in the car as you went to clock back into work, you stayed in the kitchen of the diner for a bit, using a wet cloth to wipe any remaining stains from the front of your dress.

As you shuffled back to your usual spot behind the counter, your phone rested face down in the same spot you'd left it, and you pressed the power button, your lock screen flooded with notifications of missed discord calls to your friends messaging you. You quickly tapped on the Discord icon and scrolled through the messages.

Folktales: HE’S STREAMING AGAIN!

Folktales: our crazy hot mask bf awooga

Marzbarz: ours???? No mf YOURS

Zobner: where is he even at??

Marzbarz: looks like some shitty diner

Folktales: LMAO HES GONNA BLWO IT UP I BET!!

Zobner: LMAO

Marzbarz: wait.

Zobner: ???

Marzbarz: does that phone case look familiar to you?

Folktales: gothic has the same one

Zobner: thats her ringtone…

Marzbarz: guys something doesnt seem right

You frowned, swiping up and tapping on the Livestream notification link, your phone instantly redirecting to the familiar black and neon green page. This time the Livestream was the thing that caught you off guard, as it was a live feed of a security camera.

The camera was pointed directly towards you. As your head jerked in the direction of the camera mounted to the wall. You froze, your blood running cold as you tried to piece together everything. The only thing you managed to think about was how Edward still hadn't walked into the restaurant.

His seat was empty. The only thing occupying his space was the same strange briefcase. Your curiosity getting the best of you, you grabbed the handle of the case. You froze.

A loud beeping sound rang out throughout the diner as you quickly unclasped the case and yanked it open, revealing a bomb and a small note inside.

It's better this way; the world is too filthy for kindhearted people like you. I adore you too much to lose you by another's hand.

“Oh you fucking–”

[ ❥ ] taglist. @lluvin @lovemedaddy-666 @toy-cars-and-grape-juice

tap here to be added to taglist.

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#paul dano x reader #the riddler smut #riddler x reader #paul dano riddler #paul dano #the riddler #the batman #the riddler x reader #edward nashton imagine #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 7 months

Text

By: Ian Rowe

Published: Sep 14, 2023

Imagine you are twelve years old and your public-school teacher asks you and your seventh-grade classmates to stand side by side in a line. The instructor lists a series of personal attributes and says that you must take an action based on your alignment with a particular attribute, to demonstrate either your privilege or your disenfranchisement:

“If you are white, take two steps forward. If you’re a person of color with dark skin, take two steps back. If you’re black, take two steps back.”

This exercise, part of what is called a Colorism Privilege Walk, actually occurred at public schools in Evanston, Ill., and at many other schools across the country. According to the lesson plan, the goal was for white students to “learn more about white privilege, internalized dominance, microaggressions and how to act as an ally for students of color.” In other words, the point was to reveal the real sources of a person’s privilege: the unearned benefit of being white over the intrinsic victimhood of being nonwhite.

Because of these student Privilege Walks, and since the district had also conducted professional-development sessions that divided teachers by race, an Evanston teacher and the Southeastern Legal Foundation filed a lawsuit accusing Evanston School District 65 of violating the 14th Amendment’s equal-protection clause and Title VI’s prohibition on discrimination at federally funded educational institutions.

In all likelihood, these racially divisive practices in Evanston will be found legally impermissible — especially given the Supreme Court’s decision deeming race-based affirmative action unconstitutional in college admissions. Yet across a country now transfixed by the pursuit of equity, there is an obsession with determining what factors drive economic inequality and whether a person is inherently privileged or inherently oppressed based on a single characteristic, most notably race.

Against this backdrop, enter economist Melissa Kearney, who has done America a great service by publishing The Two-Parent Privilege. Kearney unequivocally states: “Marriage is the most reliable institution for delivering a high level of resources and long-term stability to children. There is simply not currently a robust, widespread alternative to marriage in US society.” In terms of benefits to children, not all family configurations are the same. Throughout the book, Kearney posits the necessary caveat that no person should remain in an unhealthy or violent marriage, but she makes plain the case that a married, two-parent household is generally superior to alternative arrangements such as cohabitation and single parenthood.

Rather than resort to making a moral or religious argument for marriage, Kearney, an MIT-trained economist, is determined to “bring the social science evidence on family structure from the obscurity of academic journals into the public conversation.”

Kearney simply sticks to the facts and makes an overwhelming data-based case that marriage and stable two-parent families matter monumentally to the life prospects of children — far more than the usually invoked suspects of race and gender. According to Kearney, in 2019, “77% of white children and 88% of Asian children lived with married parents. The share among Hispanic children was 62%. Only 38% of black children live with married parents — a historically low share that reflects a downward trend over four decades.” With such huge differences in family structure by race, how can one not fairly conclude that family-structure disparity is the greatest driving force behind racial disparities in education, crime, and virtually every area of concern for kids growing into young adulthood?

Indeed, Kearney surgically lays out the new dividing line in America’s quest for upward mobility:

There has been a massive widening of the family gap, such that a two-parent family has become yet another advantage in life enjoyed disproportionately by the college-educated class. The decline in the two-parent family among parents without a four-year college degree is a demographic trend that should concern anyone who cares about the well-being of children and about widespread economic opportunity, inequality, and social mobility in America.

One can only hope that during this election season presidential contenders emphasize how crucial healthy marriages and two-parent households are as the foundation for achieving virtually every social or economic policy objective. They would be wise to follow several of the policy recommendations in Kearney’s book, including, most notably, improving the economic position of non-college-educated men so that they are more reliable marriage partners and fathers. But Kearney recognizes that policy alone will not solve the problem. She strongly argues for a cultural shift that fosters a norm of two-parent homes, in part by simply being open and “honest about the benefits that a two-parent family home confers” on children.

In reviewing Kearney’s prescription, my only wish is that she had spent more time in two areas: (1) advocating that marriage and family structure become a standard data category through which child outcomes are analyzed, especially in education; and (2) identifying strategies to engage the rising generation to think differently about their decisions when it comes to the timing of their own family formation.

In regard to the former, the National Assessment for Educational Progress (a.k.a. the Nation’s Report Card) reports reams of educational data disaggregated by race, gender, geography, and other usual-suspect categories. But family structure is not one of them, despite the paramount role that marriage plays in influencing achievement gaps.

Including family structure could create opportunities to implement different types of interventions that could improve life outcomes for the next generation. For example, at Vertex Partnership Academies, the virtues-based high school I launched in the Bronx in 2022, in a class called Pathways to Power we teach the data associated with the “success sequence.” This is research that shows that the vast majority of young adults who graduate from high school, get full-time jobs, and marry before having children reach the middle class by their early 30s. Young people deserve to know this information, especially when they live in environments where most neighboring families have not followed that sequence.

* * *

In May 2001, writing for National Journal, Jonathan Rauch noted that, “according to Census Bureau data, a two-parent black household is more likely to be poor than is a two-parent white household, but both are far less likely to be poor than is a mother-only household of either race. In other words, if you are a baby about to be born, your best odds are to choose married black parents over unmarried white ones.”

Rauch was highlighting then what Kearney so effectively illustrates now, that in economic terms a parent’s marital status has displaced race and class as a primary driver of child poverty and upward mobility.

And perhaps this message is finally getting through. For evidence, look no further than a four-minute video titled “If someone doesn’t understand privilege, show them this.” Across Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, and several media platforms, it has been viewed more than a staggering 125 million times. It captures another Privilege Walk, but in this case the personal attributes being presented are markedly different from those posed in Evanston.

The first two directives are: “Take two steps forward if both of your parents are still married. Take two steps forward if you grew up with a father figure in the home.”

In Kearney’s final chapter, she warns that “if millions of American children miss out on the benefits that come from a two-parent home and if the family gap continues to widen” then “children will suffer, inequality will continue to widen, and social mobility will erode.” It does not have to be this way. If we are brutally honest in accepting Kearney’s analysis of what truly privileges children, we know what the next steps forward should be.

[ Via: https://archive.md/F4YE8 ]

[ Source: Wikipedia ]

[ Source: Mother Jones ]

Stop blaming things on "systemic" -isms. There are often known or contributing factors at play, and refusing to acknowledge or address them is dishonest, not virtuous. It identifies nothing, solves nothing, and only serves to make people feel powerless, who are not actually powerless. Although, perhaps that's the point.

Where two-parent households are not possible, it should always default to joint/shared custody, rather than sole custody, with sole only as a last resort when unavoidable.

Joint custody should be the rule, not the exception

Children Likely to Be Better Adjusted in Joint vs Sole Custody Arrangements in Most Cases, According to Review of Research

The Consequences of Fatherlessness

#Ian Rowe #Melissa Kearney #systemic racism #fatherlessness #poverty #family structure #two parents #two parent homes #two parent family #social science #two parent privilege #religion is a mental illness

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irvinenewshq · 2 years

Text

A Meta investor simply wrote a essential open letter to the corporatewith a plan to show issues round

Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg can’t appear to catch a break. Since he modified Fb’s identify to Meta final 12 months and rebranding the corporate to emphasise its concentrate on the “metaverse”—an augmented digital actuality—Zuckerberg’s private internet value has dropped by over $70 billion, and as of Monday, Meta’s share costs are down over 60% 12 months so far. Buyers aren’t completely satisfied. And one went as far as to jot down an open letter to the corporate with recommendations on the way it might get its “mojo again.” Altimeter Capital chair and CEO Brad Gerstner, whose funding agency owns 2.5 million shares of Meta, mentioned the corporate has misplaced its focus. “Meta has drifted into the land of extra—too many individuals, too many concepts, too little urgency. This lack of focus and health is obscured when development is simple however lethal when development slows and expertise modifications,” Gerstner wrote. He went on to say that the corporate has misplaced the arrogance of traders—and lots of that has to do with Zuckerberg’s obsession with the metaverse. “The standard knowledge—press and investor—is that the core enterprise hit a wall final fall,” Gerstner mentioned. “Because of this, the staff swiftly pivoted the corporate towards the metaverse—together with a shock re-naming of the corporate to Meta. Worse, this skepticism gave the impression to be affirmed with a nearly-immediate and sizable miss in monetary outcomes and continued under-performance all through 2022.” In July of this 12 months, Meta reported a 1% decline in its second quarter income in comparison with the identical interval final 12 months—its first ever decline in income since going public. Regardless of Meta attributing the setback to powerful macroeconomic situations, Gerstner mentioned, “the decline in share value mirrors the misplaced confidence within the firm, not simply the unhealthy temper of the market.” So he’s proposing a three-step plan to double the corporate’s free money circulate to $40 billion per 12 months. First, scale back headcount bills by a minimum of 20%. Gerstner mentioned he doesn’t take the job reductions “calmly” and that “they’re not simply numbers on a spreadsheet.” Meta is reportedly already mulling layoffs that would have an effect on 15% of its workforce. Subsequent, Gerstner suggests the corporate ought to scale back its annual capex, its annual capital expenditures used to amass, improve, and preserve bodily property, by a minimum of $5 billion. He mentioned these numbers reached round $30 billion in 2022. “Meta is investing extra in capex than Apple, Tesla, Twitter, Snap, and Uber mixed!” he wrote. He added, nonetheless, that the corporate ought to proceed its funding in A.I. (synthetic intelligence) to make all of its current merchandise higher. Gerstner’s final suggestion: Restrict funding within the metaverse to lower than $5 billion per 12 months. “Persons are confused by what the metaverse even means,” he mentioned. “If the corporate have been investing $1–2B per 12 months into this undertaking, then that confusion may not even be an issue.” However he identified that the corporate has introduced that it’s investing rather more than that into its metaverse undertaking, and has brazenly mentioned it might take as much as 10 to fifteen years to see outcomes. “An estimated $100B+ funding in an unknown future is super-sized and terrifying, even by Silicon Valley requirements,” Gerstner wrote. He ended by saying he helps the corporate’s curiosity within the metaverse, however careworn that it could now not be so “formidable” and “open-ended” in its investments. “We expect the suggestions outlined above will result in a leaner, extra productive, and extra centered firm—an organization that regains its confidence and momentum,” he mentioned. Meta didn’t instantly reply to Fortune’s request for remark. Join the Fortune Options e mail listing so that you don’t miss our greatest options, unique interviews, and investigations. Originally published at Irvine News HQ

#Irvine News HQ

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years

Note

For the self aware au to change it up a bit how do you think *ponder about who look like the most mentally stable out of the boys* Trey/Lilia/Cater? also? maybe? would react to being the least liked by the player ?

Yanderes being mentally stable… but lets see how these three will handle the situation

Self aware au

I do not take any responsebility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, mental instability, unhealthy relationship, obsessive behavior

Trey/Cater/Lilia-Being your least favorite one

Huh?

Wait what?

Did you just say that you liked him the least from all of them?

These words hurt him so much that he stayed in his room for a month before he dared to go outside again

And even then he was absolutely miserable

He had never felt pain to this extend before you said these words

When he is being with others he is hiding how hurt he is but the second he is alone in his room he is crying

He would never dare to talk about what he fund out

Not only would he most likely be shunned by the others but he also protects himself like that

After all, it didn’t happen if no one knows about it right?

Though sooner or later he breaks and finally tells Riddle about it

Thankfully his childhood friend doesn’t dislike him as well after that and is a important mental crutch for him

Did I mention that the kitchen is even more occupied after that?

Trey tries to keep himself busy and if there is nothing left to do besides his duty as vice-housewarden and a regular student going to school he bakes

It prevents his mind from remembering

He might act like he is alright but deep down he will never forget

Like Trey he pretends like what you said never happened

What is noticable however, is his social media

Before you said these words he was always posting something but now it’s silence

He thinks it‘s all his fault (and not just the fact that we can’t like everybody simply because it‘s in our nature)

What do you not like about him?

Come on, tell him!

He would love to change to your preferences

You don’t like him how he is right now so him behaving like others might do the trick

When your opinion of him won’t change he becomes desperate

He does a 180 degree turn

Gone is the Cater that you knew and left is the exact opposite of him

Even the dialogue in the game changes to that

Deuce and Ace tell you that their senior, Cater, was annoying before but still kind towards those around him

Now he is straight up abusive

The entirety of Heartslabyul, with the exception of Trey and Riddle, avoids him just so that they can escape the poisonous remarks of him

There is no going back. This is his way of protecting himself

Oh…

OH!!!!

Take that back, NOW!

Fae are being widely known to be very attached to the one that sees all

So when you tell a fae, especially on that is like Lilia, that you don’t really like them?

Don‘t do it

The amount of mental scarring that you cause with that can never be healed

For Lilia you were everything!

He kept on fighting even in the darkest times just so he catch a glimpse somewhere in the endless sea that is his life

It‘s as if you had thrown something poisonous in a fish tank and then wonder why the fishes are dying

At first Silver remarked once in the story that Lilia was practicing more and more violently with him and that it was hard to even protect himself from the harsh blows… he even had some cuts!

Lilia would never hurt his son till blood came out but now….

Later on it‘s once more mentioned that he doesn’t leave his room anymore and that you can hear screams from within

Not even Malleus is capable of helping Lilia at this point

What had he always fought for?

If you didn’t want him then what was he even worth

You have broken something within him - something that can never be repaired

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #self aware au #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere trey clover #yandere trey x reader #yandere cater diamond #Yandere Cater x reader #yandere lilia vanrouge #yandere lilia x reader #tw: mental instability #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: obsessive behavior

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merryfortune · 2 years

Text

The Siren Swan Song of Cyan

Written for Into the Rainbow: Vrains Shipping Week

Turn 5 #VSWCyan

Ship: Angelmakershipping | Aoi/Yusaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Title: The Siren Swan Song of Cyan

Word Count: 1,293

Rating: T

Warnings: Major Character Death

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Obsession, Unhealthy Relationships, Sexual References

He couldn’t let her go. He just couldn’t. He simply wouldn’t, it wasn’t in his nature.

Yusaku had spent so long in a state of want not, have not, that when he finally gave himself to desire and held sustained contact with another human being, he just couldn’t let go. At first he could but he hadn’t been that bitter, hateful emissary of revenge for a long time. Or so he thought.

He thought of their first meeting. Blue Angel didn’t do debts. She didn’t want anyone to owe her nor did she want to be owed by anyone. Yet she had unfurled her whip for him and pulled him back. Yusaku still remembered what her touch was like back then. Just as bitter and even more fleeting, especially through the cyber space and something like leather and latex which Playmaker wore.

The debt ended up being equaled and squared off. Playmaker caught Blue Maiden when she got caught in that current of turbulence on the way to the Mirror Link VRAINS.

To prove that they were finally fair and on equal terms, they shook on it. Aoi knowing full well that her classmate Fujiki Yusaku-kun was also the mysterious Playmaker. And Yusaku taking heart in that she knew that rather than terror and that assurance was proof of how he had changed.

Except these times of good fortune and fairness were not meant to last. The illness that had claimed her biological father not long after her own birth was genetic and when she began showing symptoms, she quickly accepted her fate that her life was meant to be a short one. Nothing more than a dribbling tear on the side of God’s face.

Yusaku couldn’t accept that - and for a while, neither could Akira. He was the richest man in Japan, if he couldn’t save his precious little sister from the horribleness that was mortality, then who could? He poured funding into medical program after medical program but in the end, as Aoi’s life began to slip away, all it amounted to was a comfortable end in a hospital more like an expensive hotel. She had clean, soft sheets and was surrounded by her various loved ones as she closed her eyes that one final time and she breathed her last, taking off from this mortal coil with not so much as a gasp.

Her skin was paper thin, her body was frail, the illness had frayed her nerves and wasted away her mind but she was remembered. Yusaku remembered Aoi vividly. He wrote note after note on everything it was that he loved about her. The firmness of her skin, the vitality and grace that she had, the precious moments in between. Their first kiss, their first love making, high school and university graduation, sharing an apartment until her stay became that of hospice in a room morbidly called the Clover Room.

And so, Yusaku threw himself into blind denial. He would resurrect the only girl, the only friend, his one and only lover, whom he could share quiet solace with and found a handshake more romantic than other milestones that they had accomplished together.

The grief consumed him. It wasn’t fair. He hardly ate and he did eat was usually greasy and all empty calories, he was skinny and not all there in the head because of all his lasting mental scars, he shouldn’t have outlived her who lived in the lap of luxury. There should have been more that could have been done in regards to her medical care but alas. The doctors did their best, or so Akira tried to console him as Yusaku sobbed.

Aoi was all he could think about. Her gentle smiles and her cheeky laughter. Her haughty inner self and her humble exterior. She was a beauty rarely made and for some time, however short and even now Yusaku could hardly believe it, it had to be some concoction of his own imagination, but she had been his. Now, she would always be his. Yusaku would make sure of it with his own two hands and what tools that he had available to him, not to mention experience.

If he could bring Ai back, artificial intelligence so small and inhuman, then surely he could bring Aoi back. That’s what Yusaku resolved even as everyone around him railed against such black and white thinking but the blue called to him and he was having revelations by a cyan light. Not even Akira wanted Aoi back, her own brother, but not even he could stop Yusaku once he got a thought in his head.

Yusaku tinkered with one of Ai’s SOLtiS bodies. They had been rendered unuseable due to the Ignis Code that now infected them but for Yusaku’s purposes, that was absolutely perfect. He dressed it up how he remembered her. Short, navy-blue skirt with black leggings, prim leather shoes, and a blazer. He gave that body a fluffy brunette wig that was bobbed but when that abomination opened its eyes, they weren’t Aoi’s. Not quite, at least.

After months - years - of working on this, he couldn’t do it. This machine wasn’t Aoi. This android in front of him could never be Aoi, though it dressed like her and spoke like her, it was all wrong. Fervently, morbidly wrong and it broke Yusaku’s heart all over again.

Through the blood, sweat, and tears of priming the SOLtiS body for the inhabitation of humanity, of memories and love, Yusaku had been more fed on fantasy than food. He had imagined taking Aoi on dates again, kissing her sweetly in the moonlight and holding her hand, taking it further than either could dare, and more. He wanted a normal life with her. So what if his Aoi would have that diamond-shaped notch on her neck? It could be hidden with a scarf and her silicon skin could be bruised all the same. She would have been enough but this? What he created as a perverse mockery of all he revered in her.

Malfunction after malfunction. This SOLtiS body cycled through quirks and clips of Blue Angel, Blue Girl, and Blue Maiden, interwoven with the true self beneath the facades of Zaizen Aoi but it was wrong. She would stop and start, get it all wrong half way through, and Yusaku sobbed. It was all his fault. He should have listened to Akira and Ai who begged him to stop and now all he had for it was a bride that not even Frankenstein’s Monster would want. But all he could hear, in his grief and self-absorption, was the siren swan song of cyan, of if it could go right.

Yusaku sobbed into SOLtiS Aoi’s lap. It was complete in that all its inner animatronics ought to have been working perfectly but the code was all glitchy and it was fault, not even Ignis Code could handle what it meant to be loved and remembered as human. He buried his face, snot and tears and all, into her short navy skirt. It was scratchier than he thought it would be on the side of his face.

Just like SOLtiS Aoi had been programmed to, she tried to console him because that’s what lovers did. She attempted to pet the top of his head but she was on the fritz, her arm would jerk awkwardly and then she would blabber about incorrect Duel Monsters’ effects, even those from her own decks which she held so preciously - and so did Yusaku. He coughed and hiccupped, wrenching every sob from the deepest part of his soul, as he was bathed in the pale blue light that was cast out like an evil spell from the SOLtiS marking on her throat.

#intotherainbow #vswcyan #angelmakershipping #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #yusaku fujiki #fujiki yusaku #aoi zaizen #zaizen aoi #writing tag

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alectocarrcw · 3 years

Text

╰ °✧ that’s ALECTO CARROW and SHE seems to look a lot like MIA WASIKOWSKA. according to ministry files, the PUREBLOOD used to attend HOGWARTS and be in SLYTHERIN. now, they’re 25 and a “HEALER” AT ST. MUNGO’S. watchful eyes in your peripheral, goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, an obsession you cannot ignore, sickly weak and deathly pale, sadism that could scare the devil are the best ways to describe them. it doesn’t say in their file, but word around the street is that they’re a DEATH EATER.

BASICS

Character Name: Alecto Carrow

Preferred Pronouns: she/her

Birthday: 13 January 1955

Employment: A healer at St. Mungo’s, specifically in the poisons ward. Alecto loves to experiment, but with the accumulated debt her family subjected to her and her brother, she didn’t have the means to fund her own projects. At St. Mungo’s poisons ward, she’s limitless in the ingredients available for her to create both poisons and remedies (not that the latter will ever see the light of day), as well as endless patients she could… test her concoctions on. Those she experiments on are patients who are on their deathbeds, those who wouldn’t be missed either for long or at all. Should they die after consuming her poisons, then it was simply their time to go. No one is the wiser.

Patronus: Alecto will never be able to cast a Patronus, much to her frustration. She hates not being able to do something, feeling limited in inaccessibility, but there’s no happy memories for her to draw on to bring about a Patronus. However, it would likely be a lynx: controlling in power, individualistic, and sharp-sighted, as well as quiet, intelligent, and curious.

Boggart: She sees an older woman, a much more beautiful woman who stalks around her with an air of authority and privilege that she was never allowed to have. The mug the woman carries is a sickly green, the faint outline of a skull in its ripples, and Alecto’s mother shoves the poison at her daughter, hissing: You are a disgrace to the Carrow name. Drink your poison, girl: perhaps we’ll be lucky enough to see you drop dead. She will never have the beauty that her mother possessed, never have the propriety of a pureblood socialite, but at least she can paint her bedroom walls a deep red, courtesy to palette her mother’s open throat provides.

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

[ + ] Sly: Save for her expulsion from Hogwarts, Alecto has always found deceiving people to be pathetically easy. She and Amycus had been sickly from a young age, and everyone pities the sick kid--oh, how she took advantage of that. I’m too weak to do that, she’d say with a tremble added to her voice. Push the student down the stairs? With these knobby arms? Her expulsion had been a fluke, something she swore wouldn’t happen again. Her lies came easier with age, as did her ability to cover up her illegal experiments: who had something to hide when that something couldn’t be proved in the first place?

[ + ] Focused: Her ability to sit down and get her work done in record-time is unrivaled, at least as far as she’s concerned. Anything beyond her task at hand is a distraction, and a distraction is the last thing she wants. Alecto gets to the end goal for both herself and for others requesting favors of her through a sort of tunnel-vision, but that’s the way she likes it.

[ + ] Curious: She thanks dear mother for this particular quality of hers. It was Mother who introduced her to poisons and their effects on the human body, as well as anatomy so she could really appreciate how a person’s body can convulse when subjected to the Cruciatus curse. She was enthralled then, watching their muscles jump in response to the pain of poison or a curse, and she’s still just as fascinated, even if her subjects are much less healthy of late. She wants to know how the body reacts to every extreme she puts it through; she may never be fully satiated.

[ - ] Short-Tempered: Another gift from her family, Alecto is prone to bouts of (sometimes uncalled for) extreme anger. She flies into a rage that involves vials being thrown and unfortunate patients’ bones being snapped when something goes wrong in her tests, only to be healed and promptly obliviated lest a competent healer question them later on. The only person she tries not to hurt is her brother, but if she does then it simply cannot be helped. Afterward, Alecto never apologizes. She just gets back to work.

[ - ] Manipulative: Sweet words don’t mean nearly as much coming from a plain face than they do from a beautiful one, something she’s secretly envious of her mother for. Still, given the nature of her true work and the environment she grew up in, Alecto had to find her own way to get what she wanted, because being a daddy’s girl wasn’t an option for her like it might’ve been with another family. She lathered honey onto the tip of her tongue at a young age and since then, she’s used it to barter and steal and worm her way into gaining friends in high places, even if the proceeding smile has a slightly unnerving undertone to it. She gets what she wants.

[ - ] Sadistic: No one takes dying patients and feeds them poison with a sane mind. Alecto finds joy in the convulsing bodies of her subjects for the few hours she’s able to have them alone, taking a mountain of notes with each muscle twitch before adding a spell or a curse to just the right spot to inflict more pain. It’s her favorite pastime, and she’s certain she knows more about the reactions of human anatomy versus spell casting and ingested poisons than anyone in the ward, perhaps even the hospital; she can’t wait to move on to injecting poisons directly into her subjects’ veins.

BIOGRAPHY; ( tw for abuse / childhood abuse ahead )

She should have been the envy among the pureblood elite, just as her mother had been before her.

Her mother had been graceful, charismatic, a beauty beyond compare, and all eyes turned toward the Carrows after she had announced her pregnancy to see such traits reflected in the eyes of any children she bore, doubly so when twins were announced partway into the pregnancy. Alecto’s first familial disappointment was her own birth, entering the world on a sullen January evening weeks before she was meant to and minutes before her brother. Frail were the bones of a newborn, but that risk was multiplied by their premature birth. Thus began one of many hospital stays throughout Alecto’s childhood, surrounded by tutting healers and bright white walls, reflecting fluorescent lights and nearly blinding her by the tender age of five.

There was something off-putting about her, growing up. Being carted to and from the hospital didn’t leave much room for proper childhood development, let alone an education among her peers. Her dependency on vials of medicine borderlined an unhealthy obsession, and at home her mother only encouraged her intrigue toward potions and poisons with her own mixes, sickly green liquids filling the vials and tilting into her mouth as she insisted Alecto build up a tolerance from an early age. Mother wasn’t careful, however, and Alecto took vials while she was at home and fed them to the animals that dared to approach the Carrow home, watching squirrels and bugs and, later, dogs and cats thrash against invisible foes coursing their intestines until they fell still in defeat. She drew the scenes on the paper the healers provided her when she couldn’t be at home, ignoring the horrified expressions the adults wore as she depicted each detail with morbid fascination.

Hogwarts saw an improvement in her health, if only just. The dampness that filled the Slytherin common rooms from its dungeon location echoed the sober atmosphere of the Carrow manor, but away from an absent father and an overbearing mother Alecto found it in herself to thrive--particularly in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts (though she scoured the library for the offensive dark arts as well, eager to see what spells and curses she could make tick). Her peers whispered and laughed without much subtly at her, taunting the beauty she would never have, aggravating her nerves until she snapped. One whisper into Amycus’ ear saw an older student shoved down the steps of the astronomy tower, and Alecto couldn’t stop staring at the way her bones were twisted into an all-too unnatural angle. It didn’t take much convincing to get Amycus to do her bidding, because she knew her brother wanted it too: wanted to see those who tormented them tormented in return, tenfold. The best part was they never got caught, never left enough evidence to lead back to the twins’ so-called accidents; at least, until they did. One slip-up saw the Carrow twins standing in a snowstorm, blood splattered on their green robes, and professors dragged them away. Not even the Carrow name could keep their wands from being snapped, but it was enough to get another wand and get them into Durmstrang.

To say it truthfully, Alecto didn’t give a rat’s ass about the war Lord Voldemort reigned down upon the wizarding world. She knew about blood purity, knew her brother saw muggleborns as a threat to the world as they knew it, but that wasn’t why Alecto took the Dark Mark. How did magic pick and choose which muggles got to see their world? It had to be more than having magical lineage choosing the person at random. Alecto wanted to know how it worked, and only the Dark Lord would let her slice open muggleborns and test their blood. Her potions skills, along with a good bit of fibbing, got her into the poisons ward of St. Mungo’s, a place that she had considered home for half of her childhood. Healing wasn’t her end goal, though: testing was. So long as the Death Eaters brought her subjects to experiment on, she would do whatever they wished in whatever fashion they desired--and this time, Alecto would not get caught.

#mm.intro #muse ;#abuse tw #childhood abuse tw

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niki-frost · 5 years

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Say in a few years they decided to remake OUAT and chose you as the lead writer/director, what would you keep from the old show and what would you change (y'know, besides the obvious) and what would you add?

Fantastic and thoughtful question! Thank you!

(Showrunner would be the term used here, as a roomful of writers have to write according to the showrunner, directors have to direct based on the script they’re given, and there’s usually a different director for every episode. Showrunners often like to direct the first and last episode of every season, also.)

I think I would try to stay true to the first season as much as possible and then take things in a different direction from there. Season 1 was so very special and I want to honor that, to bring the show back to its roots in a rustic Storybrooke and a minimalistic Enchanted Forest, in a storyline that focused on character development and their relationships with each other in both the past and the present. As much as I adore Disney stories, there are a lot of crossovers from the rest of the show that I would cut out. Too many characters made the ensemble too wide, and we lost so many crucial moments for characters to grow and evolve and interact with each other, all for a few cheesy Frozen cameos and too many AU versions of the same character. When shows gain popularity and bigger budgets, it’s so easy to forget what’s important in favor of using more special effects and CGI and big fancy sets, and I think that’s where OUAT started going downhill. They got popular, received more funding, and started focusing on trying to please every single outspoken fan screaming for certain characters or ships or cameos... and they lost sight of their own story. Fans are vital to a show, yes, but most of them don’t know how to craft good stories for television. They aren’t professional storytellers for a reason, and they all want different things. Trying to implement everything they want in your story is a recipe for complete disaster.

I would try to keep a lot of the main cast, but there would for sure be some recasts to remove actors who have made homophobic jokes or have encouraged toxic behavior in their fans, as my version of a remake would definitely be SwanQueen endgame. That being said, I think I would keep a lot of the H00d/H00k stuff as important plot points, highlighting the unhealthy nature of their relationships so that in the end, Emma and Regina would come full circle and realize they’re perfect for each other. I don’t think I would have needed to change much about H00k’s progression, except this time around, Emma would actually be aware of his toxic behaviors, call him out on it, and eventually cut him out of her life because she realizes he’s bad for her. H00d would likewise be treated similarly, except Regina would kick him out of town the moment he tried to sleep with her while his wife was in a coma in the next room. (Marian wouldn’t be Zelena in disguise. There’s too much rapey context there for what was supposed to be a Disney show. Marian would awaken and have Roland again and she’d take over the Merry Men. I would have made Zelena her own standalone villain, sweeping into town in perhaps season 2 or 3 on a cyclone, having finally figured out how to escape Oz and get to Storybrooke to get her revenge on Regina, only to later be defeated and put through rehabilitation. The Regina/Zelena sisterly bond is too important and I think their progression from enemies to sisters should have been more thoroughly explored.)

Split Queen, as entertaining as it was, would not have made it into my version. It felt like forcing more drama into a character that had already gone through so much personal growth, and her suddenly being “afraid” of her own darker instincts and wanting to be physically separated from it seemed like absolute bull to me. Regina’s a smart woman, and that had been the dumbest decision she’d ever made. Dark Swan would have stayed in Storybrooke (bye bye, Camelot, you useless loaf of greenscreen) and would have brought out the worst in Emma regarding all her inner struggles with being abandoned and sacrificed by her parents for the “greater good.” There should have been so much more Emma/Snow/David angst that they completely missed out on, especially between Emma and Snow. The Emma/Regina relationship would have been in that I-hate-you-because-I-secretly-love-you phase around this time, H00k would turn on her and, in his obsessive hatred of any Dark One, would try to kill Emma, citing is as a “mercy” because he loves her and would rather her die than to be evil. Striking a mortal blow to Emma, he’s about to finish the job when Regina blasts him away. Emma’s fading, about to die from whatever Dark-One-killing-weapon H00k had stabbed her with, and Regina would save her with a True Love’s Kiss.

We’re all gluttons for punishment, so of course Emma will be in denial and Regina will be bitter about it. I feel like this would be an excellent chance to make H00k the villain he was always supposed to be, escaping his prison cell and fleeing Storybrooke, only to return with friends to get revenge on Emma for daring to reject him even after she was cured of being the Dark One. This would be a fun point to bring in a cameo or two of villains to join H00k and terrorize the town with a new curse. As our heroes deal with this new headache, Emma and Regina are forced to work together. Henry would encourage them to talk, and with his optimism, they slowly find their way back to their friendship and more.

I don’t know that Hyperion Heights would have happened in my version. It was an entertaining reboot in a fresh location and I loved adult Henry, Ivy, Jacinda and Sabine. But again, the convoluted storyline and cheating and rape and weird pervy moments kind of sour the whole season for me. I would have gotten rid of a LOT of the realm jumping throughout the seasons, focused on a lot of character backstory and relationships in Storybrooke, and then perhaps have made a single curse (much like the first curse) that simply dropped all our beloved characters in a new world somewhat like Hyperion Heights, except without the confusing time jumps and new/AU characters. It would have been the last big hurdle for the heroes to solve before returning home, now with the ability to portal-jump to the Enchanted Forest to visit their medieval friends. And of course, Emma and Regina would be the power couple overseeing it all, making sure to keep their worlds safe and protected for many decades to come.

I’m rambling at this point, but yeah, as a gay woman of color who already works in the TV and film industry, that’s my pipe dream of how I would remake OUAT. Hope that answers your question. :)

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migleefulmoments · 4 years

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I just don’t get why they NEED Chris and Darren to be in a romantic relationship. Is it to fulfil the CCers’ sexual fantasies of Chris and Darren kissing, touching, fucking? A platonic relationship can still be just as powerful, just as significant, just as important as a romantic one. Sadly Chris and Darren probably don’t even have that, since the CCers very clearly drove a wedge between them.

That is such a great question.

I don’t know what started the ccshipping back in the day- I found them when Michelle MLeigh69 was deep into being the leader. She ended up resigning as the fandom CEO when she drumming up funding to get her movie released. The movie More Than Only, is a very-VERY-thinly veiled CrissColfer/Klaine fanfiction whose opening line was ripped off from a fanfiction. She used Teenage Dream (she actually paid for the rights) and one of the scenes was the two men in a hotel room building a fort made out of sheets. She also mentioned Darren when discussing her inspiration-not by name but it was obviously him-as someone she greatly admires and used a quote often erroneously attributed to, “you fall in love with a person, not a gender”. The quote is something Darren said in a fanfiction, not real life.

The movie is really bad but you can watch videos (X). The website seems to be down so you can’t read about it but I did do a post about it once-I just can’t find it and I don’t want to spend too much time looking since you didn’t ask about that.

Michelle is a late 40′s early 50-year old nurse. She was OBSESSED with Klaine scenes being real-life Chris and Darren- not their characters. She would go on and on about their autonomic nervous system reactions as proof claiming you can’t fake it. It’s weird because as a director (she also runs a children's theater group) she should understand that kissing scenes aren’t actually romantic moments caught on camera but well-orchestrated scenes with lots of people in the room and cameras right in their faces with frequent cuts to change angles. She also hated Mia but not with the rage that Abby does.

Abby is in love with love. She has a child-like understanding of love. She is obsessed with soul-crushing love, the kind that takes over your life and completes you- the kind she reads about in fanfictions and watches in movies. The kind that doesn’t have sick kids and a broken furnace and has to make dinner every night. The kind that in real life would be dangerous and unhealthy. She’s never been in a relationship so her theories about love, about what ccDarren means to ccChris -and vice versa- are rooted in that love that she needs to believe in. I remember once she was “talking” with Chrisdarebashful and one of them commented that Chris and Darren’s love gave them hope that someday they would find that same kind of love. Abby has commented many times that ccDarren survives the ccnightmare because of the support he gets from his partner and his parents-nobody else! In fact, she has demonized everyone else in Darren’s life in order to ensure. that it is only Chris and Darren fighting the fight- she wants a real-life LOVE conquers all. She recently was asked why Chris would put up with all of this and her response was that he gets Darren’s love out of the deal and that makes it all worth it.

Abby loves ccDarren and Chris is at times her insert and at times simply a way to justify why Darren doesn’t love her. He CAN’T love Mia- she doesn’t work hard, she isn’t career-oriented, she’s lazy, she drinks too much...and all the other lies Abby tells herself to justify why Darren couldn’t actually be in love with her. Darren being gay solves all her problems- he can’t love Abby because he’s gay. Abby pretended to be the leader of the fandom because they were all in it together but she would slip up and it was clear it was all about her feelings As for the rest of the coven? They just regurgitate what Abby tells them to think and feel.

The final reason I think is that it is also about the straight white women riding to the rescue to save the poor little gay boys from TPTB in mean old Hollywood. They truly think they are “collecting evidence for Darren to use” after he gets out of his contracts-as if public social media posts cut up and turned into slow motion gifs is “proof” of anything. Read any of their masterposts of evidence- or even their arguments for why Mia does this or that and it’s clear they couldn’t accurately evaluate the evidence to figure out which of Ronald McDonald’s friends’ stole the hamburger.

They see themselves as great LGBTQ+ allies and it is very important to the crisscolfer self-image. They spend a lot of time talking about Darren’s human rights being violated and how they don’t care who he loves they just want him to be free to be himself blah blah blah. They aren’t allies, they know nothing about the LGBTQ+ community-Abby is horrified by the LGBTQ+ Programming at TSG and they all out ccDarren on a daily basis which Abby justifies by claiming he wants them to talk about it. They think replacing Lulu’s name what two toilet emojis is HILARIOUS. I could go on for days but you get the point.

So that’s my theory on why it has to be love and not just a friendship. Anyone have anything to add?

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melungeonman13 · 5 years

Text

PSA

When you start providing services for your community, whether in the form of Rootwork or simply spiritual readings, there is a spiritual etiquette that should be established, because frankly it’s common sense. I’ve seen too many posts and situations like this in the past week so damn right I’m gonna say something, cause it’s getting tiresome.

When you begin giving services, if you have to ask for help from others in interpreting candle workings or any other simple task as that, I figure you’d best not be taking folks money. Arrogance and ignorance love to play in this game and they will be your downfall. What you do for others is subject to judgement by the spirits. Now every once in a while I’ll see a sign I ain’t never seen before and I will reach out to colleagues for their opinion on it.

In my practice, I don’t do this for the money. Yeah a good buck can help pay bills but I also understand the situations in which folks can’t pay. So I barter: I’ve received many things as payments for work such as a jar of scorpions, fresh farm eggs, rabbit and coon skins, tobacco, whiskey, playing card decks, groceries, the list goes on. All that matters is that something is given or done in return for my services. For folk healing I only accept donations of some kind if they wish to give them, because that’s just how I was taught. You don’t barter someone’s health for money. The old midwives of Appalachia often only asked for a bit of food and drink in return.

Too many times I have seen the big dollar get more attention then the actual needs of a client! And that ain’t right. These folks lives you’re playing with, who are taking funds from their pocket to pay for. I’ve done month long works to help get single mothers back on their feet and never asked for a dime or nothing because that’s just how my mama raised me. Know when and when not to charge, often times they’ll still wana give you something so I don’t decline. Cause it makes folks feel good, nobody likes to get “hand-outs,” they like to give back for their dignity and out of respect. That comes from your foundation with them.

These folks who just wana make a quick buck abuse their clients, often without realizing it. Especially if said client should instead see a medical professional or psychiatrist. This is why I don’t do love works a lot, because many times the client has some sort of unhealthy obsession stemming from something else in the past and I’m not going to be part of extending that, giving it fuel, or furthering their mental health with any possibility of their desired loving them or returning. It’s just too messy. I also don’t lead on long with clients who just can’t follow what I say to see results, they doubt the work or do it wrong, after so many times I just cut them off. Yes I could keep taking their money and working for the same thing, expecting them to again mess it up and ask for more work, but that ain’t right! So I don’t do it.

I’ve also seen folks who just up and talk about their clients personal lives. THAT AINT RIGHT! These folks come to you in confidence and with hope that you can help! Now I’ve found that when you’re truly working in the spirit, you won’t remember much of what they say or even who said it!!! I know that folks have told me about sexual abuse, domestic violence, theft, and all sorts of other things that are best left private and often tmi for me. But you wana know what? I cannot to this day tell you which secret matches with who, cause I was only the hear piece for spirit, not a mouth piece to others beside my client. So I can’t tell any of my clients secrets because i don’t remember.

Too many workers are working without the most important pieces of this work: an honest heart, integrity, hospitality, manners, and simple common sense! These folks are dangerous because of their ignorance and arrogance. You ain’t the shit just cause you successfully helped two folks, tell em about all those disappointed ones where you didn’t know what you was doing! You are playing with peoples lives, their sanity, their comfort, their money, and livelihoods. Everyone is watching YouTube and coming up a root doctor! Running off to the graveyards without protection, calling up infernal spirits without a damned thought rackin their skull. Shits crazy! You can’t build a reputation that way! It ain’t about products, or pretty websites, or anything that gets you to a good place in the community except for your reputation. Your reputation with folks is the foundation of your work and business with them! Folks now don’t wana spend the time it take for that to work with folks one and one, simply get reviews, test the waters, help folks just because and make long time friends in the process. It’s all about that money! And in the end it’ll still be all about it cause they still won’t have none! A house divided cannot stand, so if your work or heart or mind is divided on things, don’t roll the dice for success cause it ain’t happening under that roof! Fill your cup, make your dish and then you can serve others. Ain’t no point in going to a rootdoctor who can’t even take care of their own shit. I won’t lie to you, I got my own issues as everybody does, but I’ve been doing this long enough to have patience and watch first before making my move, even in my own life, cause it’s better to work and get results than just waste a candle and a bunch of herbs because you didn’t listen to what was being said. If I don’t feel the problems that big in my own life, I ain’t gonna spend time to fix it until it is. I don’t lie to folks, there ain’t no point in it when you doing honest work with and honest heart and a humble prayer. Ain’t nothing to hide!

So for the safety of yourself, your reputation, and your clients, please make sure to build your foundation first with folks before making an empire. We see how well this all worked with Lucky Mojo didn’t we? She didn’t spend the time to gain and keep the trust of the community, she built for a big buck and now goes through groups and communities who like her company until they see true colors and leave.

So be smart, be honest, be humble, and keep building. Because once you been doing this long enough, you’ll find a different type of satisfaction in this work that will outweigh the money every single day!

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