#ive been left alone so i have no one to perceive me for a little while. ehehehehe

[prettyokwizard]

ok hold on. feeling a little smart, hot, n evil while drawing rn. im about to become more insufferable (ʃƪ¬‿¬)

[paintthetownblack]

Shadows of That Night III

Eric x reader

Part I ; Part II ; Part III ; Part IV ; Part V ; Part VI

Trapped in a basement with Eric and a maniacal vampire, waiting on Pam to save the night.

Warnings: needles and torture

-

I ended up in the basement, where Eric had been held seemingly the entire time, silver chained to a leather padded chair. He looked limp, his massive body slumped back.

But, upon hearing me enter, he jumped awake, and tensed up with strenght he didn't look like he had left. He was suddenly menacing as ever, muscles bulging, veings swelling, tendons pulling under the skin. Though his skin was papery white, and his eyes were red and sunken, he still looked otherworldly attractive. Stupidly, that was some of what I was thinking. And I was glad to see him alive.

Eric hissed at the vampire as he tied me into a similar chair, wrists and ankles, all in silver, not to any effect. The vampire looked Eric in the eye. "Pray, Mr. Northman, save your strength, you'll need it."

"You don't know who you're up against." Was Eric's retort.

"Pardon me for this... observation, you are a guest in my home, I shouldn't be so blunt to you, but you provoke me. Are you so dense? Or just distracted by the damsel, that you can't tell I'm older than you? Maybe not by more than a century, but, I assure you, the things I saw in those decades, were far fiercer than any little viking rampage you were told of as a bedtime story." He giggled at his own joke. Tucked his chin in his chest, like a kid.

He believed he was telling the truth, maybe he was even right. Maybe he was stronger than Eric.

"Don't talk about me while I'm gone. The room is surveilled anyway, I'll know." He winked and left through the thick plastic curtain that separated that room from the rest of the basement.

"Still glad you stayed back?" Eric smirked, now that we were 'alone'. He leaned back again, to save his strength, and he again looked dead... -er.

"Wouldn't change a thing..." I shook my head at him.

"Good. Glad to see you're holding strong. Now listen." He began whispering so gently, I could barely just hear, I was sure no mic would pick that up. "I can't protect you now, so here's what you'll do - you'll sit there quietly, won't look him in the eyes, or provoke him. Let him focus on me." A chill went down my spine. I hadn't doubted that he would defend me, but hearing it aloud from him, in his state, was sobering. Suddenly, danger felt very near and very real, and Eric seemed fallible for the first time.

I could only shake my head, and he looked disapprovingly back, but had no time to argue, because we were joined once again by that vampire.

He floated in with unsettling calm, gloved hands held folded at chest level, but anticipating something was coming couldn't have prepared me for what did come.

Too fast for my eyes to perceive the motion, he wedged a tiny silver needle beneath one of Eric's fingernails. I heard his grunting before I noticed the little point of the needle catching the light from underneath his pointer finger nail.

"What the fuck?" I breathed out. Eric was masking the pain, but it was clear, to me, that it was intense.

"How does she read your mind?" The vampire asked of Eric.

Eric exhaled a shaky laugh. And left it at that.

The vampire pulled the needle out very slowly and held it against the dangling, naked light bulb above his head.

Then he ran it across Eric cheek, making a tiny red burn line, so thin, it was healing as it was being traced. The vampire lowered his feet to the ground. That couldn't be good. He could then thump his steps, as he waked behind Eric's chair and placed his hand on his forehead, forcing his head back. He was making sure I could see the needle point approach Eric's clear blue eye ball. I knew it would probably heal and that it'd be fine. But I didn't want to see it, and I didn't want Eric to feel it.

"Fine. You want to know, I'll tell you."

"She's bluffing. She's got nothing to tell you, she's just some girl who works in my bar." Eric interjected. It didn't convince him.

"Pray, let me know how you do it. Just note that, if you are 'bluffing', I will not hesitate to kill Mr Northman."

"Clearly."

"No, really." The vampire perked up. "I would love nothing more than to watch on the security camera, as the sunrise reduces him to ashes. Truly, that would be a sight to behold. One so old? The flames would be deliciously colored. And you too would get to watch. And I envy you. Screens can't render that kind of thing truthfully. You would get a front row seat." he started to laugh. "I have never had as easy a time getting someone to break as you. I didn't even get to warm up. You're young, it's true. But still. I haven't had to touch you. Now, tell me, come on." He gestured flamboyantly with his hand, as he rolled the needle between his pointer finger and thumb.

Eric's gaze was a warning. I knew exactly how it would play out, as soon as I said it. But I believed every word this vampire had said, and so I felt I had really no choice. "It's my blood."

"So it is? Elaborate." He urged me on, gesturing with the needle like a musical conductor.

"It's when he drinks it that I can see his thoughts." I said, looking off into the distance, not wanting to read either of their faces anymore.

"Excellent. How wonderful. You, my dear, have, I am afraid, just signed your own sentence. You are going to be so useful to me, you have no clue. But fret not. Mr Northman won't be wasted either. He is evidently a very important tool in making you compliant. He is going to be as incremental as you are." He said petting Eric's hair now. Eric was not concerned by this, he seemed to not even register it. His apathy radiated all the way to me. I had handled situations poorly in my life, but this time, I had dug a truly deep pit for us to crawl out of. No guarantee we would.

The vampire came near me and, disposing of one glove with his teeth, ran his hand along the veins on my inner forearm, a sort of caress. Or the opposite of that. I would have crawled out of my skin if I could have, my body was revolting, and tensing, flashing both hot and cold.

I didn't feel I deserved anything from Eric at that point, but I didn't know where else to take my gaze, so I locked eyes with him. He wasn't angry anymore, or wasn't showing it, he wasn't afraid, wasn't disappointed, the sight of his eyes was the still point of my spinning mind. Eric held my gaze, as though he were holding my hand.

In the meantime, the vampire punctured a vein on my inner arm with his silver needle, and drew a drop of blood to sit on the surface of the skin. He looked at it longingly. He was ready to lick the blood, but that had to wait, because loud, erratic voices flooded the basement. It was their security men, coming to warn him about something clearly urgent, they were spitting a number back and forth, "code five.", "code five?", "code five!". Code five must've been bad, but how much worse could it get?

Eric perked up, cautiously.

The vampire came to grab my shoulders, as he tried to explain to his men how important it was that they take me with them, since it was already decided the building had to be evacuated. He was also making the case for Eric's being shipped along, since they needed him to torture, to keep me in check, etc, etc. It was a wild thing, to be negotiated over like this. Negotiated over, in a literal sense, because they were shouting in each other's faces, as they leaned above my head. My ears were full of noise, that I was fighting to drown out, so it somehow took me a few moments to realize, when it stopped. The human who had left my ears ringing had been yanked from my vicinity, and was being punched around by a different man. Probably because of the ringing in my ears, it took me even longer to realize that the two men were not of the same side. One could say they were uniformed differently, but that takes a level of discernment more sophisticated than mine, at that moment. Both black combat outfits, both in bulletproof vests, somewhat different.

As more men invaded the tiny room, I started to search around for the vampire. I couldn't spot him in the multitude of struggles going at once, and then a man hit, head first, the concrete floor at my feet, and I forgot why I even cared where the vampire was, when, clearly, more important things were unfolding. My view of Eric had also been obstructed, but I had begun to theorize that these were his men, since I sat tied to a chair in the middle of a minuscule indoor battle field, and I wasn't being so much as shoved.

This only lasted a short time. Soon enough, the victors, the invading group, presumably our rescue, had finished rendering unconscious our kidnappers, and were convening around us, to where I could see Eric again. They parted to make room for the slow, pointed footsteps of Pamela. Wearing stilettos, even in action, she stopped in the mid space between our torture chairs, and crossed her arms, preparing for a dramatic moment, which she had undoubtedly earned.

"If it isn't my maker, and his pet human." She sounded extremely self satisfied. And it was music to my ears. Normalcy, at last.

Eric closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, he relaxed back into the chair, to look up at his progeny. Pride was radiating off his face.

Pam's icy demeanor melted fast, whatever gloating stance she had choreographed didn't seem a priority anymore. Equipped with black leather gloves, as she was, she tore Eric's restraints off.

He quickly stood up, looking down on her, he cradled her face in his hands. They took each other in, as her eyes were starting to well up. He hid her face against his chest, stroked her long hair, with smooth, gentle motions, not caring about the discomfort of the men in the room, as they waited to be instructed further.

Pam eventually became conscious of them, however, so she pulled away and smoothed the ends of her hair down. "I was up all day, tracking you down, of course I have the bleeds." She pretended to cover her ear with her hand.

Eric instructed someone to untie me. I didn't have much feeling in my feet or hands. He pulled me up, and, as though he sensed it, held me to lean against his side.

There was a cloudiness to our minds, since there were many things none of us were processing in that moment. We failed to question where the vampire had disappeared to. Or how he had done it. I had forgotten that the old man even existed, despite maybe being the only one of us who ever knew it. And I had failed to take in, at that first point of reunion, how good it felt to hold Eric again.

I started to imagine how glad I'd be whenever I finally regained the privilege to see myself out of a room, but, until then, there was the New Blood escort that cleared the premises and proceeded to lead us outside. Not to be ungrateful, but I was becoming very people adverse.

Then the high of seeing the outdoors kicked in, the sense of urgency, the oppressive atmosphere of that house, they were lost and forgotten, we didn't seem to know what to do with ourselves. Leaving had sounded like the obvious highlight of the evening, but then came the urge to stand around and contemplate.

"We should burn it down." Eric murmured to himself. "Fucking secret organizations." I chuckled and, only then realizing what he had said and how it sounded, he did too. A genuine, radiant laugh, crinkling the skin around his eyes.

Pam was approaching, somewhere behind us, arms crossed. She was impatient to leave.

"Pam." Eric called out. He didn't seem to need to see where she was at a given time, he either heard her, or sensed her presence.

"What?"

"Get me some gasoline, would you?"

She sighed, but made to leave anyway.

"And matches!"

She gestured with her hand as to say she knew.

Pam herself didn't return, but a man provided Eric with what he asked for, and he nodded to me, to follow him. We approached the house again, and ascended the front steps, for the last time. Eric kicked the front door open and splashed the gasoline inside, all across the pristine polished floor. When the canister was empty, he nonchalantly tossed it in, and handed me the match box.

"You do the honors."

I struck a match, took a step back and tossed it in. Flames rose instantly. We descended the stairs and took some distance. The entire entry hall was ablaze by then, and pieces of plaster were collapsing, to feed the flames, the white walls, already tainted by smoke, the glass covering the paintings bursting, the flowers withering.

Eric was watching the fire, I was watching him. His face illuminated in flickering orange, his eyes piercing as ever, but still very troubled. He didn't look like someone enjoying himself, despite having been set free, and getting to watch the house succumb to the flames.

"Would you like a ride back, or should we just leave you here? Should I have brought a blanket for you to..."

"Pam." Eric sighed and turned to his progeny. He outstretched his arm to her. I took a step back, but he pulled me in as well, he tucked me under his arm, and pulled Pam under the other. He stood with us both a while, in silence. He kissed the top of Pam's head, his mind still elsewhere. She was beyond happy to be reunited with Eric, on the other hand, and saw no reason to continue dwelling.

"I really did mean it, they will leave us here, if we don't hurry to the car." Pam couldn't, or didn't want to conceal the tremor in her voice, but she wouldn't bring herself to say anything nicer than that either.

"You two go ahead, make them wait for me, I will be a minute."

When Eric showed up, he hopped into one of the cars, not making eye contact with anyone. "What are you waiting for? Aren't we leaving?" That was as good a time as any to depart, the burning of the house, though cathartic in its own way, would, in fairness, never bring the closure we wanted. It would never answer our questions of why, it wouldn't reveal who those people were, or where they went, it wouldn't do anything to restore our sense of safety. I had no idea how we would sleep that day.

All that uncertainty hung over the car ride. No one seemed to want to speak, or listen to the radio. We stared at the country side passing us by, the wild vegetation lit by nothing but headlights on this moonless night, looking dry and thorny. The only sounds, those of the road, the tires on the asphalt, the engine, my and the driver's breathing. I hoped it would be a healing sort of silence.

Pamela was observing Eric with concern, there were things she wanted to talk to him about, preferably without me there, but I wasn't the only obstacle. Eric was very much inwardly focused, holding his hands tightly interlaced, to rest his chin on. She complied with this, for maybe an hour, then, when she could take it no longer, she layed her hand on his back, smoothing over his wrinkled top. She didn't say anything, though.

"There are more of them out there. Those two, they weren't acting alone." Eric murmured suddenly.

"Does that mean what I think it does?" Pam retorted with great exasperation, almost whining, if she were one to do that.

"We have to find the others, we have a responsibility. To put the word out, to investigate, to end this... whatever it is."

Pam took her hand back and leaned into the headrest, "If you so wish."

Eric met my eyes. His expression was humorless, exhausted, I could only guess that I looked much the same, probably worse.

"This is not your fight." He looked out the window briefly, then turned back. "You are free to go wherever you want, I will make sure you have anything you need, if you-"

"I would like to stay, if that's alright."

Eric's reaction was extremely restrained, but he looked happy not to have to finish his sentence. He nodded, and seeing this, interpreting it as an acknowledgement, as acceptance, Pam closed her eyes and brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I know I'm thrilled."

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Ive been thinking about my witch's road au idea of Lena travelling the road with the other covenless witches. Some of the new thoughts include Lena being so new to the craft and culture that she doesn't understand that a ton of witches believe the road is real, she just thought it was witchy tune. Another thought is that she and Jen kind of bond as business women in their ways, and just kind of being generally the same age.

And then I was thinking about Lena's trial. Like, technically she's there as the green witch (don't ask me why Rio would still be there also, she just would be), but her trial is about her family-- or perceived lack thereof. She's presented specters of her family, both adopted (the Luthors) and found (the superfriends), but neither truly satisfies her desire for true family, do they? Her need for belonging, for heritage, for a link to her mother.

And through the trial Lena comes into her own as a true witch, as she comes to the realization that her magic not only ties her to her mother, but to every witch in their family prior, and to all the covens they belonged to. She is bonded with them whether she knows it or not, whether she can see them or not-- they are there, guiding her hands and shaping her spells. They are many become one, and she is the one.

I also imagine that after she succeeds at her trial, she's full of power and confidence. Her new understanding seems to transcend her into something greater than she was before, a witch not only in her own right but with the power of those who had come before, who linger still.

So when the Salem Seven catch up with them at the end of Lena's trial, Lena is perfectly at ease when she tells the others to go and leave her behind.

"What? No!" Jen declares. "No, we do this together."

"My contribution to the road is done," Lena says, zenlike. She smiles. "The rest is up to you."

"The seven will kill you, Lena! No one witch can stand against them!"

"Then it's good I'm not facing them alone," Lena returns blithely. "Go."

Jen ultimately obeys, leaving Lena to face their pursuers alone. But as Lena says: she is not alone. With the group's path at her back, Lena squares up against the animalistic witches calmly.

"Do you even remember why you're chasing Agatha?" Lena asks them.

"Vengeance...." one hisses.

"For deaths you don't remember, if you ever saw it happen at all. Do you remember why Agatha killed them?"

The Seven twitch and scritch, unable to remain still. They study her, as predators would watch their prey. Lena meets their gazes calmly.

"Abandon your revenge," she prods, "and resume your lives. Or what little remains of them."

"Neverrrrr!" comes the answering rattle.

As one, the Salem Seven lash out with their magic, intending to catch Lena unawares. But as she'd spoken Lena had woven a shield of spectral roots and vines around her, seething and intertwining like living thing. It shields her from every attack at every angle, giving her power time to build.

Her magic gathers between her palms, pouring not only from herself, but from the others. From her mother, standing at her right shoulder, and her grandmother at her left. From their covens and the covens before them, stretching back through time until she pulls from the very earth itself.

Its radiance shines so brightly that the Seven barely have time to quail beneath it before it incinerates them entirely, their own magics far insufficient to protect them from the onslaught. After they flake away into dust, Lena holds onto the power for a moment longer, and turns to meet her mother's gaze.

"Thank you," she says to the spirit. "I love you."

Her mother's shade nods once, its smile warm with pride, before fading away with the rest of the magic that bleeds back into the earth.

Letting her hands drop to her sides, Lena studies the empty room around her, then turns towards the path she'd been protecting. A path that is now a solid wall, no door in sight.

"Great," Lena grumbles. "Now how the hell do I get out of here?"

[nebbyy]

Random question. Do you think Baldwin would like puppies or kittens better

King Baldwin - Cats or dogs?

A/N: Mmmmh hard one, took me almost half a day to think about it😭😭 Loved the idea though, I think that this question and the reasoning behind its answer tell a lot about a person.

Couldn't find the name of the painting this time but the painter is by Henriette Ronner-Knip!!

Warning: puppies, but mostly kitties. Jokes aside I took the liberty of adding some historical inaccurate facts about cats' presence in medieval castles just to make the story more fit to my taste (not like historical accuracy is really the point of a fanfic but you get my point).

I'm still really torn but I'd say that it depends on which time of his life that question is asked

If it's during his childhood and first youth, he'd say dogs with no hesitation. They're great companions and so full of life, he'd love to bring a few with him during his hunting trips. He would see his own sprout of energy mirrored in his pawed companions! I see him as owning at least two of them, maybe even more (having almost a pack of dogs was pretty much the norm in noble families)

Dogs are also perceived better by Christian society, as there were quite a few theologists who believed that cats where somehow tied to unholiness or even the devil himself

But as time goes by and his condition worsens, he can't bring himself to stand for so long, let alone play with the dogs or take them out while he rides his horse

He feels bad, though, at the sound of their whines as his servants shoo them out of his bedroom, while he lays motionlessly on his huge bed (in which he usually let them lay while he rested, much to his servants' dismay)

And it is right as he's left laying there, alone and with an aching heart at the loss of his dear friends, that he for the first time notices the gentle meow of his physician's cat. He never really acknowledged his existence, for he always seemed to make it his mission to be as invisible to the people in the room as possible

The cat looked him with mil interest: of course, he knew him, but Baldwin couldn't say the same. He had been silently studying the young king, as his master tended to his everlasting wounds, or as he distracted himself form his duties with a game of chess. All while Baldwin didn't even know that the cat was in the room in the first place

Their exchanged stare didn't last long, because soon the cat jumped swiftly on the bed, waggling his tail like an enchanted snake as he made a few steps on top of the covers

He inspects the space, undisturbed by Baldwin who can't bring himself to make even the slightest movement because of how exhausted his sickness makes him

Finally, the cat seems to find a spot to his liking, right on the spot between Baldwin's side and arm, which is splayed on the side of the bed

The cat makes a few circles before snuggling close to his clothed side, resting his head on his own tail and quietly purring himself to sleep, soon followed by the king himself

That was their first official encounter, one that changed Baldwin's answer at the question "cats or dogs"

He also came to find that apparently there were far more cats in palace

In his late years, he found in those cats a silent and delicate company, it created a space in which he could let go of everything and just bask into the presence of those little balls of fur

And they are so agile and elegant in their movements, he enjoys watching them move around his room, jumping from a surface to the other like it's nothing; he feels like he can move and live through them

And he misses them oh so badly when they leave his chamber to go hunt for food or to simply explore the palace, but as they happily walk back in his room and curl up to rest all over his bed and desk, he almost feels like they're telling him all they've seen during the day simply through their eyes

And that is how Baldwin IV was born a dog person, only to die surrounding his death bed with cats

[arcann]

14. overgrown 2.2 k words

A maw formed by massive debris, the teeth of beasts they could not identify, bones of billions of victims and swords of heroes forgotten by everyone they could not save. Decades ago, Noahn could not have named it or understand what they were looking at, their mind too young and insignificant to grasp it. Now that they had learned its name, their eyes could interpret it at a distance, despite the immensity of the creature impeding them from grasping its full form. Though it would siphon and digest thousands of wandering souls inside the Immaterium in the blink of an eye, including theirs, they knew enough to not let it happen.

Or so they wanted to think.

Don’t look at it. Look at me.

And they knew to obey, for they had been taught to dread what would come if they didn’t listen.

Let yourself reach the places I allow you to exist in.

Following his voice was not an easy task, despite the pull it had on them. Noahn had to command their body to stay rigid and immobile, even if their connection with it waned as they became more aware inside the Warp and moved their soul to approach another, one much more real and solid than theirs. Power here weighed more than in any part of realspace, creating limitations inside the abstract.

“What,” Noahn began as the one who called them became a crystal clear vision and they could perceive him as he was in reality, “is that?”

Their question seemed to amuse their old mentor, who turned down the part of his body Noahn was pointing at. Nothing about him had changed except the particular piece of clothing. A shawl that laid from his hip and reached just above his heel, considerably taller than Noahn.

Human skin. I chose to compensate.

“You would call this compensating?” Noahn’s voice was charged with all their incredulity, emotion roiling over the carefully maintained facade they had kept under control for what seemed so long.

How long had it been?

Everyone who has one is compensating. The one he wishes he could flay with his very own hands is out of his reach, so he shows off his other victims, to quell the pain.

“You told me an entire cadre of your cousins were famous for doing that to everyone, friend or foe.”

I told you they are Legion, curious child, but I did not summon you here to discussthe caprices ofthose particular cousins.

A wave of his hand made Noahn silent, as they knew it was his wish when he made that movement. For a second they were afraid they had angered him, despite his abyssal black helm completely hiding his face from them. But he was so far away, their worry seemed almost absurd when quickly analyzed.

I know Word Bearers have assaulted the territory you aim to control. Tell me about them. Have you learned their leader’s name?

The silence stretched between them, as Noahn’s impulse to answer like an obedient little serf was shut down violently, their head pulsing as they left the truth to simmer inside themself, locking it where it would silently rattle inside their soul. They were someone else now. Someone who had overgrown such simple notions of obedience. Someone who knew there is only bleak punishment in being so open. They would not be caught like that again.

“Why do you want to know?”

Noahn could tell the truth was being wretched from their throat, their mentor’s will fighting against their own to pull it out of them. It sickened them like a metallic shard being thrashed inside their body.

You are being careless. Answer correctly this time.

“Calm yourself or leave me alone.” Noahn spat before they lost control against him. “The Koronus is mine by right.”

A chorus of mocking voices hidden in the darkness of the Warp repeated their line as if they had arrived late to a play and were telling the last thing they heard to the newcomers. Or maybe they had been invited by their mentor, who craned his neck to look at Noahn from a different perspective, his ancient Mark IV power armor creaking as it always did.

It’d be a welcome change to show your enemies the power that once backed you, would it not? Let this pathetic war band wail in dread at the sight of a true Legion.

He never could really hide the awe that last word provoked in him, his reverence for the unity he had found there.

“Your legion would never rally behind me.”

No. It would not. That is my right, not yours.

A cacophony of laughter filled the place they occupied inside the Immaterium, magnifying the mockery behind their mentor’s words. Noahn’s pulsing head already hurt but listening to those sharp and resounding shrieks was an assault on their psyche, inescapable as the thundering sound ripped into them and danced over their almost forgotten shame, their impotence.

Silence.

Where the darkness of nonexistence laid, a spark appeared that turned itself into an immense sea of fire at terrifying speed, tearing off the mantle that hid the smaller daemons and forcing them out in the open. Master and apprentice watched together as they scrambled to escape in fear, sneers turned to ever more distant screams, giving them privacy.

Very well. I will share my vision with you. Listen.

And they very much would, since the ferocious heat of the flames hindered their sight, tears falling from their eyes. It was a good sign, their connection with their body appeared to stay strong, enough to let their soul’s projection react as it would in realspace. Still, it wasn’t painful enough to stop them from noticing a change in the image they were perceiving. The scarred and severe face of Scythrozn Nathripe was uncovered, still glowering at the barrier of warp fire behind him, then coming back to settle his eyes on Noahn.

I have seen you become a conduit, not of conquest but of conscription. By strength or sacrifice you and your toy soldiers will push my cousins out of your territory and into my open arms. I won’t even have to lift a finger. And that’s all you need to know.

“A blessing then.” A rare yet eerie smile flourished in Scythrozn’s face, pronouncing the hole in his right jowl where one could stare at his carefully engraved and sharpened teeth through the skin.

As always. Now tell me the ringmaster’s name.

“Uralon, the Cruel, acolyte of the Primordial Truth, because creativity seems lacking within his retinue.” Scythrozn’s levity did not falter with their flippant response, to Noahn’s relief. “But then again, what do I know?”

So you have met him. Did he scare you? Don’t lie, you won’t lose anything by being honest now.

With those words he approached them, kneeling as if the proximity would let him figure out if they were being truthful. Noahn couldn’t complain when the heat of his flames didn’t hit them with him perfectly slotted in-between.

“He tried to get inside my head. I pushed him away.”

Of course you did. The Word Bearers know so little of combat, mental or otherwise.It's a wonder the followers of this “Primordial Truth”were allowed to survive through millennia. For truths are many, as we both know.

From up close Noahn could see how profuse his scars had become, the illness he had escaped time and time again coming back to bloom and crawl under his supposedly mended skin, waving pale tendrils of toxins below the surface.

“Tell me, what will you do with them? What will you do to your cousins that has you so excited?” They wondered, their hand reaching for his cheek as it used to do when they were analyzing what new and twisted paths the disease had taken.

“I will show them that cruelty is nothing but a blunt weapon without the constant sharpening of ambition... I will remind them they’re not made to write great deeds, but to make them happen. And then, I will break their backs and make them docile.” He retorted as if he had practiced those lines but his teeth were grinding against each other, looking at Noahn with a familiar storm of emotions, like every time they managed to find a new way to push back his affliction. A smile crept its way to their face as his disappeared.

“You? Alone? So quickly have you found a death wish after I left?” He shuddered as they worked. They could feel the daemon that fed on his pain recede and hide, where it wouldn’t be a bother, for a time. “Your sense of fashion seems to be the only thing that has changed. You should be wondering why this vision came to you, when you survive while lacking the favor of your gods.”

“Odd. You assume I’m alone?”

“You came to me for...” Noahn scrambled to say a different word than aid. They knew he hated it. “Ovation. Me.”

Not an altar for the gods. Not one of his brothers. Them.

“Will you give it to me once I bring you proof? You have seen me do it before. And I do not expect much from the future recruits.” He appeared morose, being caught on his bravado didn’t sit well with him but even that did not interrupt his fixation on every little movement in Noahn’s face, eagerly awaiting their response.

“You will do it because behind your power there is something much more resilient and shrewd than some vision holding your hand.” Their smile vanished and they pull a strand of his eternally graying hair. The idea of hurting him like that would be ludicrous but it still darkens his mood. “Do not let your mentor catch you talking like that.”

“Enough.” Noahn did not see the push coming but they felt their feet stumble backwards. “I no longer counsel him nor does he come to me.”

“Then do not waste your time with such a pointless man.”

His eyes widened and he stared at them for seconds that felt like hours, but he only coughed to conceal his sharp laughter and called them something akin to insolent one in barbaran. It’s more than that, similar to daring to stand tall against hopelessness through many years, but that was a term used for some very ancient writings that hadn’t survived the death of his world.

(It also meant greatly embittered but that was a later reinterpretation, one he disliked immensely now.)

“I still can’t decide if I miss or dread this…” He mumbled distractedly, raising once more. “But you will know of dread if I fail. Every time I come here they grow more interested in meeting you, one after another. And I am beginning to wonder why.”

With another motion the wall of fire withered in an instant and its old occupants approached once more, snarling with restrained hunger, letting their bulbous eyes and rotting teeth scrape the surface of the void.

Their attention was confusing but then again so was the situation in which Noahn had reached this state, where they could converse inside the Immaterium.

“I was… giving orders. There were too many so we used promethium on them, to thin their numbers. It worked but some were still alive. They approached us in a final, maddened rush, I didn’t notice until...”

Scythrozn clicked his tongue.

You fainted.

The shame seared Noahn and it was so painful their sight began to fail. They brought their arms to their chest but there was no chest there. Soon there would be no arms.

Careless, just as I remember you. Your soul was up for the taking so I took it, this time. You survived the road here. Let us see if you survive the way back.

Their vision worsened now that their face became a thing that existed only on the other side of the veil. They wanted to reach out to their mentor, to use him as an anchor but he had let them go. He had said his part and soon they would be just another soul left adrift in the void while he took his path.

Directly into the daemonic maw.

–

The pulsing blood of the Lord Captain Von Valancius rushed through their cramped body, making them light-headed and nauseous. There were a hundred reasons to feel sick and hearing the crunch of flesh being stabbed next to them had just been added up to the count.

“Who–“ They could only groan in pain after that word slipped out of their mouth. Their hands went straight to their chest, this time finding their heart beating, a reassurance that they were back.

“Domin’Noahn.” A whisper that showed nothing but elation came from their right, her dark predatory eyes scouring their body. Anyone else would have felt like prey while laying back as they were inspected and proved but Noahn recognized the executioner’s voice immediately.

And yet, something was wrong. Their eyesight refused to focus still.

“Tell me where I am, Kibellah” Their throat was burning, so dry it made breathing a struggle.

“Do not be concerned for your safety, Domin. The Undying One has bid you a longer stay with us, and I’ll make His wishes a certainty.”

Before Noahn could form another word they were violent coughing, tasting ashes and bile. They spat and smelled blood– in their hands, their throat, their face. Everywhere.

“Wrong.”

They reached for their forehead and found it bleeding profusely, from the same wound that always opened when the inhabitants of the Empyrean pressed their faces against the Veil and breathed deep behind the nape of their neck.

[honeydewandcake]

hey! been watchin your blog for a while (a friend showed me one of your first (?) fran bow razzdazz drawings and i thought ut was So Cool and have been payin attention since lol), and ive been ponderin glisten in the asylum au for a bit? i saw someone else talk about givin him dysmorphophobia, and i think thats so fun and i would like to build on it a little bit? moreso in the direction of just giving him body dysmorphia in general.

body dysmorphic disorder is categorized as an obsessive compulsive disorder, and generally is confused as something that inherently comes with eating disorders? i think the main difference with them is body dysmorphia is centered around a specific part of the body and not a general weight thing. i think he probably would count for that with his face, honestly? his mirror part specifically? its what he seems to put the most effort into (aside from his bow but thats an accessory) and hes So Appearance Based.

also hes shown to be very insecure about how people perceive him in game with his dialogue and the toon rooms in roleplay mode, and. while his twisted form is shown to be more concerned with being alone, and monophobia, and its so fun to explore i honestly think thats something that should be left to be explored with his twisted form in this whoops, ^^;; its smthn we know is there but dont really see in his normal toon form

but ! yeah, theres my two cents. i dunno if my rambles make much sense lol but i love this stupid mirror and i love fran bow so <:33 buh bye

This is a lot more detailed and deep than I could have ever written it!!! This is actually a huge help in understanding dysmorphia so thank you as well!! I'm keep all these things in mind if I ever draw Glisten :3

[tonydaddingham]

six months on (albeit, a bit late) part 2/3

part one | part two | epilogue (at some point)

okay right this is significantly more important (and more interesting frankly) than doing the job that im actually paid to do, so let's pick up where we left off in part one. main conclusions that ive come to so far, as a recap:

aziraphale feels threatened by the conversation with the metatron and feels he has little choice but to go to heaven. also, possibly feels aware that the metatron might be able to see/hear their conversation, and so has to be careful in his own proposal that does not alert crowley to there being something wrong, and does not alert metatron to his suspicion of him

wants to bring crowley with him because... yk, love. and he thinks that the restoration might be something that crowley has always wanted anyway, so he has to offer it without clueing crowley in on the possibility that aziraphale is under some kind of duress

aziraphale was initially very resistant to going, but only gave in when a) metatron brought up crowley in the first place (implied threat aforementioned), b) crowley could be restored (which he thinks crowley might want anyway but never entertained could happen), and c) it would give aziraphale an opportunity to not only change heaven as it currently is, but also recognises him - in all his perceived imperfection as an angel - to be the "right man for the job"

crowley understandably refuses, and launches into his confession/proposal. both of them want the same end result - being together - but the journey there is the contested part. aziraphale tries to persuade crowley into coming with him by subtly changing his language and mannerisms, almost like he's leaking out hints as to why it is so important that they remain together

the only true miscommunication they have - that aptly heralds the beginning of the end - is "nothing lasts forever". everything else, arguably (aside from aziraphale's attempt to keep things under wraps) is fairly well communicated, but they simply. disagree

i will hastily add, as i said in part one, that this is still only my interpretation of the whole sequence; there have been so many amazing observations that have made my opinion/interpretation of the final fifteen flit from one stance to another, and these two posts are purely me rewatching it all, paying closer attention, and working out what the hell (ha) i think is going on.

so, we left off at "good luck".

aziraphale definitely appears taken aback that crowley has not, in fact, understood what he meant throughout the whole conversation, and most of all appears to have completely shut down with "nothing lasts forever". where aziraphale thinks that crowley putting his glasses back on means that they're about to leave together, hand in hand, and face whatever has been dealt to them... it's actually crowley drawing the line in the sand, and sticking (rightly so) to his set boundary that he will not return to heaven as an angel - regardless of the optimistic assumption of what that would precisely entail (ie. this is assuming that restoration is even possible, let alone that crowley would be able to be restored and simultaneously keep his memories/his "him" in the process... arguably, these two options are likely the more realistic).

aziraphale is now, more desperately and in plainer language, resorting to begging crowley to see why this is the best choice they can make to remain together. but this is also where i feel like aziraphale's double-speak language that he exhibited with "...i can make a difference"/"we can make a difference", and the metatron jibe, is growing more frantic and - as a result - more obvious.

to me, he's clearly trying to impress upon crowley that he is not rejecting him, that he wants crowley with him desperately... but is equally having to keep his expression of this as... strategic as possible. it's almost like he's flitting between talking to crowley in as heartfelt and candid a manner as he can, and then squeaking in the caveats that are for the benefit of this assumed pretence he's playing - i guess what im trying to say is that aziraphale can't very well turn around and say, 'crowley i am not rejecting you, i want to be with you, but i cannot get out of this situation im being placed in, and i cannot leave you here on your own because i have no idea - and am scared of - what will happen.' the way he says "work with me!"; 'its going to be me and you against them, still. that's all it was ever going to be; i am not theirs, i am yours, but i have to play this game' - which incidentally, to any outside ears, would arguably just sound like aziraphale asking for crowley to... well, work with him. "we can be together!" is said with all due emphasis and cry, and aziraphale neatly tacks on, "angels, doing good!", because they would do good - good as they see it - and crowley would have to be an angel in order to do so, yes, but ultimately aziraphale wants him... and yet still remains plausible to anyone who could be listening.

i do still think - for the record - that there is a part of aziraphale that thinks that this is absolutely the right thing to do. crowley has put other options to him that, in contrast, solve nothing as far as aziraphale is concerned, and this sense of threat from the metatron only forces into sharp relief that whatever happens, wherever they go, they are not free of anything and never will be until something changes. this line of thinking has not always been how aziraphale has thought historically - but it's who he is now. if we accept that all of the hard, agonising decisions and choices that aziraphale has had to make, all of the times where he has battled with what is the right thing to do (arguably - exactly as crowley has taught him), has led to this moment, then aziraphale standing steadfast to his decision is absolutely in line with the character development we've been shown throughout both seasons.

that is just my interpretation given the events that come before this bit of the dialogue; whichever way you look at it though, aziraphale is evidently panicked and erratic that this might actually be it - that he and crowley are done. the really interesting bit for me, however, lies in his movements, his body language, and his expressions? they feel more in line with how aziraphale normally acts. to me, all of this is genuine, it's not put on, nor faked; where before he was trying to hide his fear under the guise of excitement, it now feels like this is actually aziraphale speaking, and not some uncanny facsimile who is trying to clutch every fraying string and keep it all together. also worth noting that during this part of the interaction that not once, as far as we see it, does aziraphale look out of the window.

whichever way you look at it though, aziraphale is evidently panicked and erratic that this might actually be it - that he and crowley are done. the really interesting bit for me lies in his movements, his body language, and his expressions? they feel more in line with how aziraphale normally acts. to me, all of this is genuine, it's not put on, nor faked; where before he was trying to hide his fear under the guise of excitement, it now feels like this is actually aziraphale speaking, and not some uncanny facsimile who is trying to clutch every fraying string and keep it all together. also worth noting that during this part of the interaction that not once, as far as we see it, does aziraphale look out of the window.

crowley though? crowley has clocked out. noone could blame him at all, especially after the sucker punch of the previous half of the sequence, because whilst i think he's hearing aziraphale say these things spoken with sincerety, probably even recognises them to be genuine, he's possibly also hearing the unspoken, perceived caveat that comes along with them. "we can be together... but you have to change." "we can be together... but i'll never love you, as you are, as much as you want me to."

he's hearing what aziraphale is saying, and either he doesn't believe it, or he's resentful that he would say this now - from crowley's pov - to cover up and compensate for what he said before. as he goes to walk away, but is called back by aziraphale, his turn and his carriage is... not petulant, that's the wrong word, but almost impatient? like he's humouring aziraphale at this point, but not that he has much more interest in what aziraphale has got to say. and again! given everything that has just been said and done, from crowley's perspective, that's completely understandable.

it's the turn of the head; crowley already has his barrier up with his glasses on, but he's cutting off any remaining communication he can give to aziraphale. it's interesting that he's specifically chosen to look out of the window, where we presume the metatron is - but does crowley even see him? does crowley essentially dissociating so rapidly that he can't even see that the metatron is there? or does he see him, and think that it's of very little consequence - the metatron won, he's got aziraphale (or - aziraphale was always heaven's, anyway), and it's barely worth notice or comment?

but it's also like he's giving aziraphale another chance - another chance to change his mind. if he didn't at least have a small flicker of hope left that that might happen, it stands to reason that crowley would have simply kept on walking. but he stops, and he waits. as aziraphale keeps talking, however, he turns his head specifically as he says "together", and appears to clamp his mouth shut as he does so, as if almost to say 'it's no use saying all this, because i'm hurt and i'm angry and i'm giving up. you want us to be together only if i come back; i'm never going back, you keep pushing, so how can you so desperately want to be with me if this is the only circumstance in which you can bring yourself to do so?'

of course, then, we get aziraphale's last gut-wrenching plea that he needs crowley. it's so simple a statement, and it has no condition afterwards, nothing to qualify it - and yet it is still something that aziraphale has never said, or - to my recollection - ever expressed in this capacity. sure, he's begged him with puppy-dog eyes to make hamlet popular, or to miracle the stain out of his coat, but nothing so heartfelt and dire as this. it's as true to any love confession that i think we get in the final fifteen; especially when you consider the mirror of the line in 1862 - "i don't need you..." / "and the feeling is mutual, obviously!" - and the context in which that is said.

aziraphale has, as bravely and vulnerably as we've seen aziraphale do anything else, vocalised something as close to a love confession as he can currently get... and crowley doesn't say anything? doesn't even look at him? throughout this confession of sorts, crowley has continued to look out of the window, and whilst we know that this is likely out of self-preservation on his part, what must this seem like from aziraphale's perspective? presumably it feels like a rejection - but is that a rejection of the entire thing - the whole offer - or of what aziraphale has just told him?

in the above moment, we can see aziraphale's face clearly crumple in hurt when crowley doesn't even acknowledge what he's just said, before masking it rapidly with indignation. he then lashes out with "i don't think you understand what i'm offering you."

indenting this next bit, because i need to ramble it out:

whilst i do think (as i said in the last post), that aziraphale might genuinely believe that crowley in some small part wants to return to heaven to be an angel, crowley has quite clearly rejected, in the room, any notion of it. his repulsion at heaven, and the notion of forgiveness, is not as wishy-washy as it was at the bandstand; now, he is vehement and firm that his opinion of heaven cannot get any lower. and i think aziraphale knows it. plus, the way that aziraphale words and proposes the restoration offer to crowley feels like he was aware that it might be a hard sell. so when aziraphale says 'you don't understand what i'm offering you', i don't think that aziraphale was himself talking about the restoration specifically; i don't think he's essentially saying, 'crowley, you're being so stupid, you could be an angel again - what part of this don't you understand? do you even comprehend what i'm trying to give you, here?' what i think aziraphale is, however, offering to crowley is that he and crowley remain together. aziraphale doesn't have much of a choice in going back to heaven - that much seems fairly apparent - and the only way, as far as he sees it, that they can remain together is if they go back to heaven together. and to do that, crowley would need to become an angel. i know people have often viewed aziraphale's decision to return to heaven along of the lines of, 'he loves heaven more than he loves crowley'... but i don't think that's it at all. to aziraphale - him begging crowley to come with him, work with and help him to make a difference (i.e. the right thing to do, i.e. a difference that is meaningful to, and controlled by, them), for crowley to not even look at him when he tells him he needs him - it must frankly feel like a rejection of aziraphale himself? when aziraphale says that crowley doesn't understand what he's offering him, i think it's more along the lines of aziraphale saying that he's offering all of himself to crowley. in the hope that, even if it means crowley has to return to heaven, being together is enough to warrant it? that aziraphale himself is enough for crowley to want to do that? 'do you hate heaven more than you love me?'

this feels like a stretch, i grant you, but given everything we saw towards the beginning of the episode - especially where shax's first jibe at aziraphale is to undermine what aziraphale actually means to crowley ("emotional support angel"), something that aziraphale presumably already fears (i.e. that he's a means to an end, of sorts) - it doesn't seems implausible.

furthermore, when crowley retorts that he understands perfectly, and understands more than aziraphale does, aziraphale's reaction then makes more emotional sense. of course, from crowley's perspective, he thinks that this is about the restoration, and of course he understands more about what aziraphale is offering... because how can he not?! he is fallen, he fell, and there is no way he, someone who has gone thousands of years (potentially millions) being deemed unforgivable and irredeemable, can ever be restored like aziraphale is hoping he can. and why would he want to be? that's not something aziraphale as an angel would ever be able to fully understand; the futility of wishing otherwise, the insult, and the impossibility.

i do think that it's worth bearing in mind that canonically, the implication is that aziraphale was not there to witness crowley's fall - possibly not even the fall in its entirety. we're never shown any instance where crowley even talks about it to aziraphale. absolutely, this is evidently a delicate and (if nothing else) touchy subject for crowley, and he doesn't owe aziraphale a deeper account than the questionable "sauntered vaguely downwards". but equally, it's not fair to assume that aziraphale knows how much of a boundary he is crossing by even entertaining the idea, and pushing it.

perhaps he should have inferred it at a previous point, true, but... the closest we get to crowley talking about it is "the angel you knew is not me", and "i won't be forgiven! not ever!". it's not unrealistic that aziraphale would infer these two poignant lines as crowley being wistful for the chance at redemption or forgiveness. ultimately, in my view, it's not until the final fifteen that aziraphale begins to have even the faintest idea of just how deep crowley's antipathy for heaven runs. it's not a case of just thinking they're a bunch of dicks, but that fundamentally, crowley will never align with heaven under any circumstances.

so when crowley says this, he is absolutely saying 'i know about this subject more than you do; i am fallen, you are not, and you therefore are not able to understand like i do why being restored is not only unthinkable, but the worst outcome possible for me. it's not the good thing you think it is. i want us to be together, but you're asking for something i cannot - and will not - give you, and you don't seem to see the problem in asking me in the first place.'

but aziraphale is not thinking of this; what i think he might be hearing from crowley is, 'no no, i know you want to be together, and are offering yourself up to me with your whole heart; the issue is though that if it means i have to go to heaven to have it, to have you... it's not enough to make me do this. i don't want it; nothing and noone would warrant me doing this. you are not enough for me to acquiesce to going, and moreover you're not clever enough to understand that.'

it very quickly, i think, stops being about crowley not wanting to return to heaven - at least, not in the way they were previously discussing. instead, it feels like aziraphale is now starting to internalise crowley's reaction as a reflection on himself. which then, for me, that makes aziraphale's next line of "well... then there's nothing more to say." make all the more sense to me... because that's the kinda thing you say after things have really hit the ground, right? and i imagine, for aziraphale, hearing crowley essentially say that he's not enough would probably elicit that reaction. that crowley ultimately has no further use for him (again: "emotional support angel"), because crowley can so easily discard what they had, and so very nearly could have had. and not only that - crowley implies in his wording that, once again, whilst aziraphale is incredibly intelligent in some ways, he can also be phenomenally stupid (which turned out great the last time he said it).

aziraphale clearly tries to put a brave face on - school his expression, blink away the tears that are clearly gathering and brace his mouth against the trembling - and slap on the fakest, tightest, weakest smile. just before it switches to crowley, however, you can see the anger begin to set in; looking towards the ground, aziraphale seems like he's already given way to the feelings of disappointment and betrayal, and possibly even humiliation? that he's laid out his own heart - he thinks - so clearly, and it's being refused as if it's nothing.

now look, idk about anyone else watching this scene for the first time, but... my reaction to the part of this bit of dialogue was... not dissimilar to aziraphale's. after all of this emotional outpouring, both parties being hurt by the other, etc., it feels completely apropos of nothing for crowley to suddenly be asking if aziraphale can hear whatever he's meant to be hearing. aziraphale's reaction, to me, not only within character, but entirely reasonable; he's wound up, going through a thousand different emotions, and yet he's meant to be hearing... what? a car alarm? someone thumping out some drum and bass? of course aziraphale retorts testily, and agitatedly; they've just reached the end of an intense discussion and - as he sees it - the whimper end of six thousand years of being an 'us' in various capacities. he obviously isn't, but i can imagine that it would feel that crowley is trivialising what's just happened and, in aziraphale's shoes, i'd probably be a bit shitty - and subsequently bitchy - in my delivery too.

but of course - ha - we then get the suckerpunch of the nightingale line, and we feel the weight of it right alongside aziraphale. the poignancy and tragedy of what crowley is saying with this. there's been numerous of delicious metas regarding the motif or symbolism of the nightingale (personal favourite for me is the shakespearean link to the nightingale/lark in R&J), but in the context of the story? the context that both these characters presumably know and understand? we know about the end of s1, and it's suddenly apparent that the song was diegetic. that both of these characters recognise that the nightingale represents what they nearly - and did - have and accomplish by the end of s1.

there's no piano tinkling in the background, playing what we now understand is considered by both of them to be their song, (i still have very narrowed, suspicious eyes at 1941), to put them in a lovey-dovey mood... because this? right here? this isn't going to have a happy ending. calling attention to the sheer absence of it, figuratively speaking, only confirms for the both of them that whatever they did have - or were on the cusp of having - is gone.

moreso for aziraphale; it's abundantly clear when the finality of this hits him, evident in his dumbfounded expression that follows immediately after crowley says the line. and the way that crowley says it, how it could be perceived as incredibly nonchalant and casual (and for the audience absolutely betrays just how devastated crowley likely is in saying it), is evidently shocking for aziraphale; the notion that this is truly broken, this is done, and there is no coming back from it... and crowley already has a foot out the door already.

which is only hammered home with this:

idk, again, if this was the same for anyone else, but even upon first viewing, this felt acutely unfair. not only the idiot line, which as i've already alluded to seems to be a firm boundary for aziraphale (we'll get to 'i forgive you' in a minute huns, i promise), but the way that crowley very firmly places this whole thing upon aziraphale.

up until this point on first viewing, personally, i was content with appreciating that both of them had a good point; that their perspectives were so agonisingly polarising but had equal merit. but this does not all rest on aziraphale's shoulders; there isn't, to my mind, even any blame to assign in this whole sequence, but to my mind they are both equally accountable for the outcome. they cannot align their separate belief systems, can't align what they think is the right thing to do, but share the devastating want to be together. there's miscommunication, sure - but not enough that i think either leave each other not knowing that the other cares for them deeply. it's understandable why their paths have diverged, but both of them have been fighting for 'us' until this bitter end.

so, to then watch crowley essentially drop the blame for them not being together so squarely on aziraphale's shoulders was... frustrating, to say the least. that aziraphale is so firmly in the wrong, and that him being 'an idiot' is the only reason why they're not making out on the sofa and skipping into the metaphorical sunset right now. that - if we're being real here - if aziraphale had abandoned whatever he had considered to be the right thing to do, and followed crowley in what he wanted, what he considered right, that they'd have a future together (and that's not even taking into account the whole metatron-threat thing, but i hadn't reflected on that upon first watch).

i think the fact that crowley did this, frankly, is not lost on aziraphale. he certainly reacts accordingly; his face crumples minutely before he turns reflexively away - both away from crowley, and away from the metatron (because, lest we forget, he is still outside). it feels like what were web-like fractures spidering out across aziraphale have now suddenly cracked under the pressure, and the first piece has fallen. it makes sense that in this moment of actual physical vulnerability, something that aziraphale wasn't quick enough to school away and mask, he would turn from crowley to hide the hurt he's just handed him.

(lol are you ready bc i'm not)

sigh.

okay right; this is probably the only bit of the final fifteen sequence where, by large, my reaction to it has not changed. to be clear; i love the kiss for what it does narratively, and the delicious possibilities that it opens up in s3. i think the kiss, and their respective reactions within it, are perfectly in line with their characters. frankly, on the whole, i enjoy it for what it is.

lets start with the preceding bit, as a reminder; crowley's distraught, aziraphale's distraught, we're all distraught. crowley has said something that, to my mind, is quite frankly unfair, but understandable for him to say from his perspective. it's also the line that causes aziraphale to physically break, and he's turned away from crowley to hide himself and prevent crowley from seeing the hurt that it's caused him, the ensuing vulnerability. to my mind, by extension, aziraphale is now at a point where he thinks it's all over, that there's nothing to salvage, and that they're done. crowley certainly seemed to give that impression with his line about the nightingales, and "we could have been us."

aziraphale breaking, and turning away, evidently spurs something within crowley; that there does seem, somehow, to be some hope that aziraphale will stay, and so crowley immediately strides over to him. the thing is that after initially watching it, and then thinking on it a little more (and rewatched another six or so times), i... didn't get it? i didn't get what the point of it was. it seemed abundantly clear to the both of them that aziraphale wasn't going to change his mind, and neither was crowley (and tbh, neither of them should - and even if one of them did, it wouldn't erase the *waves around vigorously* everything that just happened), so what was the kiss meant to prove? what result was it meant to have?

it could be that there wasn't meant to be a result of any kind, that crowley was just outpouring his emotion in a make-or-break physical way. yes, absolutely, and i would think that (that it was a purely emotional action, not necessarily meant to do anything), but... when they break apart, crowley clearly appears to be waiting for something.

but i'll get to that in a minute; the point however seems to be it's aziraphale's break that kicks crowley into action. that he still has an 'in', and he can use it. aziraphale cracked, crowley sees a glimmer of hope, and does the most direct thing that comes to mind that would impress upon aziraphale just how desperate crowley is for him to change his mind.

i said in a meta a few months ago, god knows where it is now, that the whole interaction appears somewhat predatory - like, literally, in the animalistic sense. it's violent, and fast, and there's no room for discussion or manoeuvre in it; grab him by the lapels, drag him round, plant it on him, and hold him there. the dance and motion of it is almost serpentine in nature. of course, again, i absolutely recognise the desperation with which crowley is evidently acting, and there's no part of me that thinks that this is done out of anything but the most deep-seated, painful, aching love, but it's... still uncomfortable. i don't see any romance in this, personally, at all.

that doesn't diminish the romantic feelings fuelling it, however, but it's not the kind of kiss, i think, you would expect to see from someone intending to romance someone into remaining with them...? of course it's more than possible (a certainty really, depending on the hc; ymmv) that crowley has simply never kissed anyone before, and just simply doesn't know... what to do? and maybe that explains why he doesn't move, doesn't actually... do much of anything, whilst kissing aziraphale. but we know crowley has seen at least one stereotypically romantic film, and presumably has seen romantic kisses throughout history. so to me, it kinda begs the question of - if a typically-romantic, climactic, show-stopping snog wasn't the intention here, what was?

i put this in a photoset when the parallel had struck me, as they often do, at 2am; there was a huge emphasis played, in crowley and aziraphale's first truly meaningful encounter post-eden, on aziraphale's first temptation. something that he obviously enjoyed for millennia to come, and has a huge impact on him as an angel and as a person.

additionally, someone else posted at some point soon after s2 aired that the way aziraphale devours a whole bloody cow is reflective of the fact that, at the time, he didn't realise he was starving. apply this to the kiss, and we can imagine what kissing crowley would mean for him in turn. if aziraphale succumbed to the ox-rib temptation, and likely other temptations that followed afterwards, it would make sense that crowley might - might - resort to a similar method in getting him to stay, at a point when all else has failed, and crowley thinks he has no other option left.

i'm in two minds as to whether crowley meant the kiss, full-chest, to actually be a temptation (for me, it makes his characterisation even more nuanced and complex, so i'm largely on the side of it having been intentional, i'm afraid), but the way that he pulls back afterwards, and waits for the verdict, strongly suggests to me that it might have been.... waiting/hoping? for aziraphale to change his mind. that if it was a temptation, that he pulls away hoping that aziraphale will declare himself to remain on earth with crowley.

i realise the above may be a point of contention, and accept that - tbh, i just enjoy exploring the possibility. and even if crowley hadn't intended it that way, i think aziraphale certainly may have seen it that way (which again, for me, is in line with aziraphale's development starting in s1 with resisting crowley's insistence that he kill the antichrist etc.). but again i'm getting ahead of myself-

so wham, in with the kiss. aziraphale obviously reacts initially in shock (no, i don't think it's revulsion, but it's certainly surprise and likely a bit of the ole 'what the fuck'); he keeps his eyes open, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown, his posture is stiff, and his hands flail. but then... he melts into it. more than melts into it - he returns it. his eyes close, his face relaxes, and his hands come up, hesitantly and tentatively pressing into crowley's back. there does come a point during the kiss, however, where aziraphale's hands detach from crowley's back, and return to flitting around like he's unsure of what to do with them. at which point crowley finally releases him, and breaks the kiss.

a combination of aziraphale not physically pushing him away, and even proceeding to draw crowley in, with tenderness? to crowley, i can imagine he breaks the kiss hoping ever so slightly that whatever it was meant to be or convey - temptation, whatever - made aziraphale change his mind. that this last-ditch effort was enough to make aziraphale stay. he pulls back, and almost seems expectant of some kind of result.

aziraphale's immediate reaction, once the kiss breaks, is not so static. he falls back out of crowley's clenched fists, and his face takes to unadulterated heartbreak and despair, but ultimately seems to be rooted in panic...? shock? aziraphale also pointedly looking out towards the doors is telling, because i don't think it's wholly left his mind about who's waiting outside, and the position that he's now been put into - where he has to reconcile this really quite distressing experience with everything that has come before it.

by god does aziraphale cycle through some emotions here. he can't even look at crowley whilst he processes this maelstrom that's going on - sorrow, longing, confusion, and pure shock - and stumbles over his words trying, i think, to find the right ones to say. the kiss, i think, has very nearly done its job; aziraphale is clearly conflicted, but i think struggling to find a way to express that he wants this, but he still can't stay. trying to anchor himself to something, to a decision, that won't destroy himself or crowley in the process.

however, before he even gets that far, there is a really key moment where his expression abruptly changes, almost like he's realised something. in that moment, it's where he finally makes eye contact with crowley, and for an infinitesimal moment, aziraphale seems to eye him with something like... betrayal? disbelief? and that's where, unfortunately, i think the temptation element comes in, because i think aziraphale recognises it (or at least, thinks he does). and possibly recognises that, from aziraphale's perspective, crowley has resorted to something that he knows nearly always works on aziraphale, trying to force his hand into doing something that aziraphale has already expressed he will not - and presumably cannot - do.

but beyond that; i've said before whilst kisses do not feature in austen's literary works, aziraphale is hardly ignorant of the trope that a kiss - typically - in romantic fiction can carry weight as a declaration of love. has aziraphale ever idly wondered on what it would be like to have a first kiss with crowley? yeah, probably. but arguably what crowley has done is taken that - taken something that is precious, tender, meaningful, and cannot be taken back and redone - and turned it into something heartbreaking, possibly manipulative, and overall - frankly - something ugly.

aziraphale even gets a little smirk on, because in that moment i think he's genuinely angry at crowley... for any/all of the above. he seems so plainly resentful and appalled by what he thinks crowley was doing, thinking that aziraphale wouldn't see through it, and resorts to his textbook bitchiness in the guise of a sarcastic and sardonic smile. and even his body language - he exhales sharply in a small huff, his shoulders relax and his posture straightens, and he even bears his teeth slightly the smallest of snarls. and then, of course, he delivers the fatal blow of "i forgive you".

i know there have been a fair few interpretations of this line, and what aziraphale was saying with it. mine, personally, is very simple; this is how aziraphale can basically get away with telling crowley to go fuck himself. in s1, he says it in a way - responding to crowley's rather painful line about aziraphale being 'so clever, but so stupid' - that almost feels, on the surface, as if it's intended with benevolence and kindness... but is instead saying 'fuck you, that hurt. so i'm going to say this in return knowing it will hurt/annoy you in turn.'

and tbh, i don't think it's any different in this moment of the final fifteen sequence either. aziraphale is clearly hurt (once he delivers the line, you can see his face shift once again back into soft sorrow) and clearly angry. he is lashing out in a way befitting his 'bit (see: lot) of a bastard' streak, because he perceives it to be striking at something that resembles a weakness, or sore point, for crowley. it's also a clever insomuch that should anyone ever overhear him, he's being his devout angel self... but to him and crowley, it's absolutely a code that they both patently understand.

crowley then seems to just... accept that nothing has changed/it didn't work, and simultaneously rolls with the gut punch that was "i forgive you", like he's not even really surprised that aziraphale had that response to give him. he sighs, in a way that practically vocalises 'disappointed but not surprised', and succumbs to the inevitability of them not having (yet) the happy ending that he'd perhaps hoped. he turns, tosses "don't bother" over his shoulder, and leaves the shop.

i think "don't bother" could be taken multiple ways; if we accept that crowley actually knows the underlying subtext in "i forgive you", it could him saying, essentially, 'don't waste your breath, we're done/i'm going'. if he takes it literally, it could be 'i'm a demon, as you've so clearly pointed out, don't bother trying'... or 'i'm not sorry or asking for forgiveness, i did what i felt was right'.

last little bit before i close off here (i'll do an epilogue for the last bit of the sequence, up until credits roll; there's too much to try to squeeze into like two gifs and a couple of paragraphs):

when crowley leaves, aziraphale most obviously looks desperate himself, panicked, and heartbroken... i'm even somewhat sure that he's about to call crowley's name, or a simple "no" (this bit is next on my 'lipread' list) and stops himself. his lip pouts, he's breathing heavily, and whilst - by god - his eyes are a watery mess throughout the entire sequence, this is probably as close as he gets to shedding actual tears. there's still some residue confusion, like 'what the fuck just happened, that's not how that was supposed to go'.

it's clear that aziraphale is generally distressed, and he certainly looks this way... just before the point that his hand raises to his lips. the way it's so shaky, and hesitant, the wide-eyed, shocked stare before rapidly blinking, perhaps both in disbelief and also to rid himself of the tears building? and then, whilst his fingers are almost trying to imprint the kiss even more, he lowers them and reveals his face stiffening into a sneer (jaw and nose tightens, eyes become more hooded, eyebrows draw together).

now, i'm in two minds as to who this sneer is directed at - is it at crowley, because of the same reasons he may have said 'i forgive you'? or is it at metatron, for putting him in this position in the first place? honestly, i think it's the former; aziraphale seems to have almost all but forgotten the metatron, and his reaction to metatron returning to the bookshop would support that. his head turns so quickly to the door when it opens, and that hope and surprise quickly disappears when he realises it's not crowley... turns away, most likely to wipe his eyes (even possibly his mouth), before turning back to the metatron to answer as to crowley's reaction.

which - and i'll leave off with this, because it'll follow neatly into the epilogue post - seems odd. metatron has presumably seen crowley come out of the shop, and even if they don't exchange a look, let alone words, he can clearly surmise that negotiations went a bit sour if crowley has left without aziraphale... if it wasn't obvious by now, it's seems to be a very blatant, and yet artfully delivered ploy. whether the motive was to separate them out of fear/trepidation, or just simply get aziraphale back in heaven under his thumb without crowley's influence, it's clear that the metatron never intended - nor thought it plausible - that crowley would agree to return to heaven. his next lines certainly cement that thought, and i think might have registered to aziraphale too.

i'll be back at some point ciao

[nickmpreg]

been meaning to ask for awhile now and now I feel brave enough to, can I hear about the fanverse incident

claps my hands together . so this might get long you’re just going to have to bear with me . some details may be foggy in my head because it’s been probably a year since ive cared or really paid much more attention than what my friends told me to it but this is , essentially , what i remember the most and what makes the fanverse a fucking disaster

so the fanverse predates the Republican donation stuff by about a year . when it was announced i think the games that stood out the most to people were the joy of creation , popgoes , candy’s , flumpty’s , and the fnaf 1 remaster ( that i’ll spend so much time on . there’s so much stuff on phisnom alone ) . TJOC and candy’s don’t really have a lot to say on them , because the creators are normal people ( ? ) who just wanted to make fnaf fan projects , and if they could make some money via assistance from Scott by means such as selling on steam and possible merchandise , of course they were gonna take it

i don’t wanna say that the cracks started to show when the creator of flumpty was outed as a pedophile and openly admitted to it and banned himself from any online space to go better himself or whatever , but i will say that you could probably guess things were only going to go downhill from there when Scott made no public statement . i guess if you’re a dick rider you can argue that fnaf has an audience of children who don’t really need to be hearing a lengthy statement from the series creator about how pedophilia is a bad thing because Obviously , but he Has made statements about that before . he cut ties with pinkypills ( supposedly ) because of her comics that portrayed william as a pedophile . this isn’t meant to come off as a defense of pinkypills because she’s a genuinely terrible person , but one would think that a real life human person grooming a minor and admitting to it would be worse than possibly having someone read a comic that would have others perceive your fictional character as a pedophile . moving on

popgoes is being developed by kane carter who’s his own brand of something . he has such a bad tendency of saying stupid shit on his Twitter and then when someone goes ‘hey man this sounds a little stupid’ he will bug out and post some heated rant before going nuclear and locking his account , rinse and repeat for however many years it’s been . <- that’s why i joke that i have beef with him . because he did that to me circa 2020 when i made a joke about his old sister location theory about it being an underground sex dungeon or something He just had to make sure i knew at 14 years old that he wasn’t serious ! and it was a product of lack of knowledge of the time or whatever . i don’t hold that against him btw i just think it’s objectively a little funny . i think in terms of fanverse reception popgoes is still held in a really high regard because it seems to be one of the only projects that’s still actually being fucking worked on . if kane carter wasn’t such a fucking bizarre guy on his Twitter im sure that he’d still have a crumb of good faith left to anyone other than the people who have been following him since he made popgoes as a one off thing and probably feel some sort of obligation to keep going

Stares At You . and phisnom . phisnom is a special guy . he was the one who was assigned to remake fnaf 1 but make it Scarier or something . i feel it’s important to say that phisnom has gone on record saying that redesigns ( such as the ones in analog horror ) that just take the base design but make it grimy and ‘scarier’ are lazy and don’t actually add anything to their base design . i don’t inherently disagree with his take but seriously look at this

yeah man you’re really dodging the ‘making it scarier just because’ allegations with this one . i honestly think that aside from the joy of creation which is just like a really impressive fan game this was probably the second most hyped up one because it was being sold as a remake to the first and it was being funded by Scott’s money . objectively for the time it felt a little bit cool and i drew fan art for it ( which i still think is cute . i wish that phisnom didn’t suck so much fucking cock and balls so that i didn’t feel bad about looking at it but it’s whatever )

where the problems with phisnom reach a head is that he’s a cunt . like really just a cunt i don’t know how else to put it . there’s nothing wrong with someone wanting to have an audience of adults or whatever especially if the thought of having an audience of children makes you uncomfortable there is Nothing wrong with that , but when you sign on to make a remake of FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDYS you need to know what kind of fan base you’re signing up for .

phisnom’s twitter is 18+ , but he would get interactions from minors all the time . whether or not you blame the minors is up to you i guess but Again , when you’re posting about your five nights at Freddy’s project unless its just straight up porn it’s kind of absurd to think that everyone here is going to be a strong hearty adult . like let’s be so for real we all know the adults in the room aren’t funding your fan game .

what you probably heard is that after he played the ruin dlc he didn’t like it . since the dlc had just come out it had its recency bias and a kid replied to his tweet about it and then phisnom quote retweeted them and inadvertently sent his audience who aren’t stalking him for fnaf over to this child and send him gore and porn . obviously a person can’t control what their fan base does but when people were like ‘hey dude your community is sending a child gore and porn’ instead of making a tweet like ‘i don’t want you guys to do that’ he posted an ‘apology’ that just led back to a rick roll . obviously at this point he kind of just looks like an edgy child and people go to their lord and savior Scott Cawthon to get something done

by the way , i didn’t mention this yet , but this phisnom stuff happened in like July-august of last year , so it’s not like this was that long ago . that being said you also have to wonder Hey . where’s fnaf+ by now . because that was also the question that a lot of people ran back to . so you’re getting funded by both Scott cawthon and an audience of fans who are expecting a project that the creator himself managed to shit out in about a month , while you’ve been given three years to recreate some source material and you’re not done yet ? what’s taking so long ?

all of this combined into one melting pot led fnaf+ to getting canceled . go figure . scott never released his own statement on it because he’s off doing god knows but phisnom did , which basically said he’s done with fnaf and don’t ask about it or fnaf+ as a project anymore because he’s not completing it and he would like to do other project .

im sure there’s stuff i missed because of the aforementioned brain fog all the way at the start but yes . the fanverse is a fucking disaster . the joy of creation and candy’s are pretty good though

[channelflippingwithaemerge]

i spent a lot of time off social media - most of the last year with a few exceptions and i am just recently coming back to it. there are a lot of reasons for that + this past few years (though *especially* this last year and a half being sober), ive had what feels like whole other lifetimes of experiences, and i felt further isolated because i didnt think i could identify with anyone and what is/was the point of posting anything. its a big part of why when i ever do post, i often stick to pictures or other NVC-type stuff and i dont share much written word.

once i did start tuning back into facebook and tiktok though, i realized how actually not alone i am in a lot of the ways that i think and other things i have been inspired to discover on my own - which maybe hasnt been the quickest way to learn and become a little wiser, though i believe that was my path for a reason.

it really started for me when i committed suicide in 2013 and woke up in a hospital 3 days later; i suppressed me seeings and feelings from then on with mostly alcohol and weed until my actions necessitated sobriety. but that was the beginning of true acceptance and beauty. finally i accepted meditation; discovered the "Gateway process" pioneered by Robert Monroe. ive filled dozens of notebooks this past year or two with words, crude sketches and drawings, a mishmash of multiple forms of communication and languages that most people might find illegible and non-understandable at best, others might see it all as completely insane. yet i continue to feel compelled to share some of it and knowing that there are others out there who see and think and feel as i do, my fear of judgement etc has still held me back. so here is me trying to get over that and begin sharing some of my... "personal occult art" and inner work, inspirations and realizations, visions of reality greater than the physical here and now... things like that. ways i process. and maybe no one will get anything out of my bad handwriting and crude art; im finally sharing for me and it feels like the part ive been missing to complete some of this and to stop holding on to it all, is just to let it go into the ether and let myself be seen for better or worse. i am more whole than i have ever been, whether perceived as crazy or not.

i will probably begin posting this stuff with as little additional context or explanation as possible. or maybe i will share with pieces of my story. i hope the FB compression allows for zooming and detail, theres a good amount of hidden stuff in here. often i start with writing and it just becomes something else...

so here's one i still reflect on often. i still find new insights and revelations in this as i do in so many journal pages and notebook entries that helps me keep and create new perspective. i believe this one started as a reflection on both what is between my wife and myself and what i desired to build and create there.

science, magic, spirituality; right, left, liberal "vs" conservative, etc... are all intersections of each other; made for each other. we should think about integrating them all. i will leave it at that.

love you.

[cakejerry]

asks pt.2 more recent ones

ft fanfiction anon, minho is ugly, thank you minjoon people for the links and fic recs!!! and the anon with the random jikook takes

ive been debating answering this one, like... yeah, obviously. but no jimin hate is allowed on this blog so youre getting blocked

idk, ive also been thinking about posting this but... i don't have any thoughts. except that this just proves how close they are, in any sense. and yes that was literally a joke we don't actually think their parents were involved, cmon. 'meds exist' cmon. 'suicide everyday' yeah you're a troll never message me again, goodbye.

this is why i can never take any of those charts seriously, they all say something different and everybody's #1 somewhere. its literally all imaginary and extremely unimportant. and instead of frauding jimin, which would have gotten him nothing but hate, i wish instead they'd left jungkook alone so we could see who ACTUALLY has what it takes

i have literally never understood the hype around jungkook. but maybe thats because he only started glowing up around 2019, which is when most of these taekookers came to the fandom, lol. but your last sentence was funny, 10/10

jimin should have always been the center of that triangle. vmin vs jikook i would like to see it. the classic main drama lead thats semi toxic and interesting and the second lead who's the best friend and the better option but jimin chooses jungkook anyways lol

minjoon under the stars ahhh jimin is such a sweet little glazed donut that needs to be handled with utmost care

blocked. also that's because namjoon has the charisma of a tree. but jimin could have chemistry with a brick wall so suck it. minjoon forever

cute little fanfiction moment but i dont think it holds any water in real life terms, or means anything, honestly. but thank you for the links

here come the fanfiction writers. also that's the finger heart emoji for the curious minds my laptop is prehistoric. anyways. im not gonna grace this with any further comment.

sure

this is making me ctfu because its just a clip of jungkook dancing to 3d but anon is sooo disgusted ahahhahaha. bts were different??? different from what :joy emoji:. also, if you see this, elaborate on your last sentence please.

i literally dgaf he is so ugly and his bug eyes weird me out and im convinced kpop fans have a mass gaslight thing going on trying to convince me he's attractive. 2. jonghyun wouldnt work with jimin for several reasons i just brought him up because whenever im thinking about 'men in the industry who aren't shit' he's the only one who comes up. 3. love that you just fully spiraled into waxing poetic about jimins ass there. understandble.

sure

well yeah but specifically the tweets i was posting are so... racially motivated. whitewashed jimin=white=good=pure=innocence=bottom and top jungkook=rough=tough=raw=dirty=dark skin. like it was just so weird to me.

umm sure, whatever you say anon. im gonna forget all of what you told me now because i genuinely do not want to know.

yup this is the general consensus in cakejerryland

thank you for this rec actually!!!!!!!!! it looks scrumptious and WILL be posting my thoughts upon finishing!!!

thank you random citizen!!! omg idk if you knew i have a hyung kink or not but this is sooo not that. laugh emoji laugh emoji jimin is soooo cute he's a kiddo playing around!!! babyy

i respect the grind. i do not, however, respect him.

okayy anndddd... what do you want me to do about this?

yes he wants to be perceived as such. we agreed upon this when seven dropped. and idc and it doesnt matter to me because i dont expect any of bts to come out so they will all forever be ambiguously straight and theres no point to discussing it further

fanservice is in the job description. but you said it yourself. 'natural' dynamic. they're simply the closest and we can't deny this

umm sure. i didn't see anything special in those clips at all lol i was not gagged. they were just looking at each other and they do that every single time they're in public or on camera or on stage together

lol hawaii was ... a time. they were also "doing laundry," don't forget.

[free-angelz]

A Letter to “the ex.”

.

Im still still perceiving my outsides because of what my ex changed on the inside. I was such a mean person to him after a certain point. I was no longer the girl he knew. I wasnt the girl who was excited and all about him anymore. I just wanted out, without having the will or the way to do it. And when I think back, he cried in front of me so many times and I just disregarded his feelings because he did the same thing to me. He wiped away all the compassion from my heart and made me be just like him. Hard. Unfeeling. Uncaring. All the bad things I perceived him as, I became too. And I hate that I still think about it. But I do want to apologize. And I know it doesn’t make sense either. But I think its also about forgiving myself for who I became when under those terrible conditions. We were both so miserable together. I never want that to be my kind of love ever again. I’m finally facing the more emotional and tense things that I did, that we did, that he did, and I can move through it so much easier. So some good has really come out of this, even now, to rear its head from out the concrete pad.

I’m sorry I didn’t care. And I’m sorry I kept telling you that you had no feelings, because it wasn’t true. We just loved really, really differently, and hurt each other in different places. It was uncomfortable, loving you. I didn’t always enjoy it. But that parts I did enjoy were how you were you. You were Cat. Because you loved cats, and you had the natural affinity for them. That was sweet. I know that deep down you were just a kid who wanted to be loved. You also wanted to be left alone. You also wanted friends. Community. Even if it wasn’t in healthy ways. There was so much potential in you. There was so much about you that excited me. I wanted to get high, you gave it to me. I wanted sex, you gave it to me too. And Im sure if you had the chance you would’ve stolen the world for me too. But things didn’t work out that way. I grew more and more disappointed and frustrated with you because instead of seeing that I had taken you as you are, you took that and ran with it. You didn’t change. You didn’t want to be different than what you had previously established. You didn’t want to really grow with me, as much as you say you wanted to. We were lovers. Friends. And you took advantage of me in a lot of situations. You screwed me up in the way that I watched you screw everything else up, in one way or another. But I loved you. I tried loving you through it. Even when I didn’t want you anymore, I still tried. For you. For the memory of us and all that I thought we’d be. So much loss of such a big love I had for you. My hurt boy. So safe with me. Its sad when you think about it. You were one of the first people that I loved, that simultaneously broke that love from within. You broke the frame I had in it, and in a sense, the world. I’ve changed so much since learned. I have healed so much and I’m still learning how to navigate this tension between me and the obstacles I face. Between me, and different people who hold little pieces of you in it. Between me and what I was taught love was. Between me, and the aura, the soul that I keep looking for in all the guys I meet, and in the friends Ive made. Ive been able to love again, differently, openly. Beautifully. Nontoxic. And that counts for something. Out of all of this, you taught me the good, and the bad that Im capable of.

I am grateful for that.

[lostinatrainofthoughts]

so im 26, and ive never dated anyone like exclusively... i have been in situationship(s)? and those were yearssssssssss ago.

with the time i spent on my own, I've come to realise that i really am independent and i do (like really do) enjoy my own company!! i really can live without having someone. i think sometimes i was meant to be alone? idk but it doesn't stop me from having feelings tho! i do feel lonely, and i do wonder what it would feel like to be in the company of someone. I'm 26 and i feel soo pathetic I've never experienced a proper relationship! I'm so closed off and communicating is so difficult, so its no wonder I'm so alone lol

but basically, my point is, i wanted to be more out there and I'm never going to meet anyone organically so foolishly, i made tinder LMAO

Even making it caused me great anxiety. i had so many thoughts: I'm going to be perceived? should i upload pics that make me look good only? or do i provide many angles? what if we met and they get disappointed that i don't look like the girl in the pic?? what if the date is doomed and i don't know how to talk??? stuff like that. so 4 days in, i find myself feeling like the people I'm looking for prob don't see me as their standard so i swiped left (I'm v self aware that i am not all that pretty or I'm just heavily insecure? u choose); read "social smoker", swiped left; saw they like being "touched", swiped left; "wants children" swipes left; fwb, swipe, swipe and i realise even on tinder, I was getting nowhere.

then today, i got my first match! i squealed like a pathetic little girl. though, that was short-lived. although it seemed like we had a lot in common, but this person had only one very vague pic. just an ootd with no face. and so i google searched that image just incase something popped up, and lo and behold, this person got that pic from pinterest. AND IM TRULY DISAPPOINTED. like???? my match is a catfish???? ;______; dear god............ I'm going to be single until i die

[celestegambit]

i will jot it down here so as to not forgot my adventure of today. went to pick up omd at his house in palo alto to go to pincushion. drove up playing cumbias & the drive to pincushion was so scenic i almost pulled over & told him to drive bc i wanted to just enjoy the view. but anyways once we made it to the cattle chute, he showed me a little tunnel where there’s a bunch of graffiti & there we found a dead cow. he said that isn’t the first time he’s seen that & that it’s quite sad the cows go there to die. so he reached out his hand to help me back up & we went through the regular trail. there was a random pair of jeans left at the entrance. there was a lot of incline. thankfully there were some spots where it was flat for like 20 ft so i would stop there & take pictures as an excuse to catch a break but omd told me i handled the incline well. i asked him if he knew any jokes so he tried to think of dad jokes but the only one he knew was smth like “why was the pterodactyl quiet when he went to the bathroom,” & i said smth bc of the P & he’s like yeah the P[ee] is silent. at the top, there were 3 women w a speaker blasting music. i was kinda upset at that. i just wanted peace & quiet at the top. so i hurried up to get to the highest point where they weren’t. omd stopped to talk to them so i was alone for a bit at the top js sitting there. then he came up & we just hung out for maybe 10 minutes but the little bugs kept flying at me so i got up & he took that as his cue to get going too. so we took down a different trail so we could do a loop. i wish i could remember the turns we made but all i remember is a right after the pincushion peak. he was telling me about how i gotta make college friends bc those are the people that will be good to have around 30 years from now. then we talked about the 1800s & videogames & mexican culture. i was skipping & jumping about when we were going downhill, uphill, & on flat land. i was having so much fun hiking! ok then we made it back to the car & dude told me about pizza factory & i was like ok so we went down there. omd said we could split a sandwich & he’d pay for it but in my mind i was like nah i need more than half a sandwich so the only logical thing to do was tell him “nah i got us this time” bc he had paid last time & i secretly had the plan to order myself a whole sandwhich. so then he just paid for his beer & he got a salad which i noticed was cheaper than the sandwhich so i wonder if he got that bc it was cheaper but anyways. then we were outside & that’s when he started talking about religion & politics & eugenics & DNA & yellowjackets & so much other stuff. he also asked if i knew something about DNA (the topic escapes me now) but at the time i did so i said yes & he’s like yeah you went to edison you’re a smart girl LIKE PEOPLE THINK THAT JUST BC I WENT TO EDISON IM SMART NO YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THAT I SUCK AS A STUDENT but thank you for thinking so highly of me. then on the drive back we listened to doors & he was asking about my music choices & that’s when i showed him that i put his playlist on spotify. the whole ride back he talked about music. then we arrive to his house & invited me in & i step into some sort of office that is not an office actually but a room full of antique stuff. & the living room & entrance were the same way. but he was so excited to show me everything & i noticed that. he showed me some art he made w sticks & branches he found. he polished & glued rocks on top of them. thinking back about it now it reminds me of ben making his stop motion animation film from parks&rec. oh & i met seth & he’s jokingly telling me to buy omd’s stuff bc he has so much stuff & wants it gone & he’s like [omd] likes you he can give you a discount & i was like oh my goodness ive been accepted as a person 😭. & when omd had introduced me to seth he said it like he had already talked about me to seth so PEOPLE ARE PERCEIVING ME NOOO. dude has a huge house. an office, 4 bedrooms, kitchen, living room, laundry room, 2 bathrooms, & a big ass backyard W A POOL & JACUZZI

[harrypotterhogwartshitpost]

My favorite Beach Bunny lyrics

Ranked from most to least chaotic

(now including Emotional Creature)

---

YOURE ACTING LIKE YOUR DEADBEAT DAD!

IM PISSED OFF N̳O̳ ̳I̳M̳ ̳E̳N̳R̳A̳G̳E̳D̳

CAUSE IM TIRED OF GUESSING ON A BLURRED PHOTO- ARE YOU HANGING OUT WITH SOMONE ł ĐØ₦₮ ₭₦Ø₩

Sometimes I just wanna **̷A̷̷A̷̷H̷̷H̷̷H̷̷H̷̷H̷̷H̷**

WHEN WE'RE ALL ALONE IN YOUR BEDROOM, YOU CAME LIKE A REOCCURING DREAM

Maybe you would know by now IM THE GREATEST THING YOU COULD HAVE

THINK OF ME! ME! ME! 

you got in my pants then left my ass and made me cry

IM SORRY, IM TRYING. I HATE IT WHEN YOU CATCH ME CRYING

DO I LOOK LIKE HER? DOES SHE TALK LIKE ME!?

CAUSE HE WOULDNT HURT ME

CRY! CRY! CRY!

IF YOU WANT TO- KNOW ME- START BY TRYNA SHOW ME- THAT YOURE- WORTHY BABY- PROOVE THAT YOU CAN EARN ME!

you put a knife through me 𐌄𐌌Ꝋ𐌕𐌉Ꝋ𐌍𐌀𐌋𐌋𐌙

🅽🅾🆃 🆈🅾🆄🆁 🅿🆁🅾🅱🅻🅴🅼 🅽🅾🆃 🅼🆈 🅿🆁🅾🅱🅻🅴🅼

Every moment I fall to pieces. Every moment I fall a paAaAart 

BUT IF YOU WANT ME WHY CANT WE STILL BE TOGETHER? YOU'VE GOT PROBLEMS BUT I PROMISE THEYLL GET BETTER!

WAIT FOR THE PITFALL, HIT MY FACE ON A BRICK WALL

WHAT ARE YOU UP TOO, HAVE YOU CHANGED YOUR NUMBER! IVE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU, SINCE APRIL AND NOW ITS OCTOBER

IM NOT YOUR ᵖᵒˡˡʸ ᵖᵒᶜᵏᵉᵗ IN YOUR LOVERS LOCKET

oh, but i love falling apart. i love falling apart.

cause im some ᴮᴼᴼᴰᴰʸʸ'ˢˢ ᴰᴼᴼᴸᴸᴸᴸʸʸ

ʸᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵘᵘᵘᵘᵘᵘ'ᵛᵉ been such a jerk

can we go back to c͓̽a͓̽l͓̽i͓̽F͓̽O͓̽R͓̽N͓̽I͓̽A͓̽

MAYBE LOVE IS OVERᴿᴬᵀᴱᴰ

IVE BEEN REPLAYING THE SAME SONG FOR SIX Wᴱᴱᴷˢ TRYING TO FIND A PIECE OF YOUR HEARTBEAT. 

And I wonder, where's my, happy ever after

BOYS WILL BE BOYS BUT YOURE NOT LIKE THE Oᵀᴴᴱᴿ ONES

you know, you're better than that. but you can't respond when you react

Cause I know you miss me, and I'm always on your miiiiiiind

Mostly I'm okay with, having a few bad days. lᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒcked in my bedroom with my- hᵉᵉᵉᵉᵉᵃᵃᵃᵃᵃrt out on display

Most nights I hardly know myself. Sometimes I feel like someone else. 

cause i'm stressed depressed can't seem to find no closure

to feel accepted, people are bᵤᵤᵤᵤᵤᵢᵢᵢᵢᵢₗₗₗₗₗₜₜₜₜ for- acting like there's noth-ing wrong.

running away through the rain makes your socks wet

INSIDE THE SLEEVEOFAGREEN WIND BREAKER

if we keep score, bet my money that i'm losing

you always seem closer, in the rearview

need someone that isn't an equation 

I miss being certain, certainly I miss.

all of your apologies are only empty calories

I miss your mom

𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒅-𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒔

If you're gonna love me make sure that you do it right, I'll be under your window in the moonlight. 

the faster I run from the problem, the harder I fall.

teach me how to be ok. I dont wanna dₒₒₒₒₒᵥᵥᵥᵥᵥᵥᵥᵥₙₙₙₙ play my emotions

Why does my face turn rᵉᴱᵉᴱᵉᴱᵉd, when you look at me? 

you're just so confused

tired of tripping on my shoes.

my body's always aching

pressure pulsing, got to stick to routine normalcy

gushing eyes she replies 'you feel like summer'

I-love-your-voice-but-hate-the-way you talk of her consistently 

haven't done much sleeping cause lately i've been dreaming you'd break, my heart.

thirty days since you left me, and it's hard to see your point of view. 

who, am, I? Sometimes I get a little par-a-noid trying to figure it out. 

the problem is you think, youre only viable for love, when someone makes you feel complete

and i'm tired, of the world, perceiving me

An apology anthology 

humanize your equation

symptoms got me thinking that i'm, catching feelings

teach me how to be okay, i don't want to downplay my emotions. 

you win me like a trophy not a consolation prize

i know that sunburn goes away. the broken words i last heard still linger

even the moon cant maintain the same phase

𝒾 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒

rose colored lenses eventually crack

and i learn all the words to your daydreams, like i'm trying to sing karaoke

you're not sure, if gods real, but yet you say a prayer. hoping he still cares

[submalevolentgrace]

something i actually want to address while ive temporarily opened the seal of talking about my amputation...

if you think you know what happened to me, no you don't. if i opened up and told you what happened, i won't say i lied to you, but i will say that i said a lot of things in the shock and aftermath that were very much shaped by the narratives that the doctors created about my health, obscuring my own understanding of what was wrong with me in order to hide their own mistreatment and misleading of me. a lot of it is complicated by the multitude of unnecessary surgeries, and that after they were all over there was a concrete sense of relief and perceived improvement in my health; but that just obfuscated the basic fact that i should never have been left to deteriorate enough that any of those surgeries were needed, let alone how badly they were fucked up and needed even more fixing.

even my close irl friends that have known me for years... i don't think any one of you was present for every single piece of the fucked up puzzle of doctors failing me.

it just stings a little, that a lot of what i said, especially in the first few years, was so heavily influenced by the ass covering bullshit of the system that failed me, and has been failing me my whole life. that in certain circles a lot of people have heard a lot of wild things about me that are at very best incomplete, and often just untrue. fuck knows what rumours are spread about me by the enemies i made in those communities...

and if you've got no fucking idea what the hell I'm talking about that's fine too. just know that doctors will spin as elaborate a lie as necessary to cover their ignorance for themselves and each other, up to and including writing blatant lies in charts to prejudice future doctors, sharing medical records amongst each other without patient consent, and physically preventing other doctors from even speaking to a patient and getting a firsthand (hah!) account. and they'll get away with it all.

anyway, to cope I'm slowly compiling a list of the best fake answers i can think to give, should i ever ride a tram again and an old lady inevitably demands to know "what happened to your hand???"

obviously don't reblog this one please! I'm just... shouting into the void, trying to survive, trying to get it out of my head

[pepperpills]

The Harvest - RE8 Fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: heey, so here is another juicy chapter, not much to add to it, though, just hope you enjoy >.<

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2) Part II - The Lord Part III - The Hunt Part IV - Soft Torture

Part V - Cry baby

You didn’t remember how you got in that situation in the first place. Of course, Lycans were a normal treat for the Village people, but somehow, they respected the villagers, at least, most of the time. You, on the other hand, wasn’t born among those people. No, your essence was different, you were, in some ways, an outsider and because of that, the cabin people had their shares of nightmares with Lycans attacking their loved ones.

This time, it was about yourself. You heard the roars and your blood went cold. Actually, this sound was a more bestial than the usual, drier than the throaty ones Lycans usually make when calling the others. You were afraid it was a Vârcolac. You didn’t see it, but ran from the source anyway. Maybe you did a mistake, because instead of running to the Village, you took the path to the forest, to the abandoned cabins where you thought you could be safe.

You were hidden in the wreck of your old home. As suddenly as you got there, you knew you were doomed. The Vârcolac was nearby, you could hear its steps breaking through dead branches with a strength you tried not to imagine. You were cold sweating now, it arrived at the cabins and was sniffing around, searching for your smell. You were certain you smelled like fear.

For a moment there, it all went dead silent. Nothing moved, no noise was heard. But you knew it couldn’t have simply disappeared, the Vârcolac was more cunning than you expected. Then, out of nowhere, its huge, dark haired beast head was framed by the remnants of a window above you. The chimera opened its wide mouth, showing its sharp teeth and a terrible, profound roar resonated in your mind, your eyes hypnotised by the view of death coming.

You woke up panting, still feeling the hot breeze of its breath on your cheekbones. You didn’t notice where you were at first, too scared to even understand it was all a bad dream. Heisenberg, who had been sleepy by your side, watching you sleep, promptly sat up with your reaction, wrapping a protective arm around your belly.

“You okay there, sweety?” He asked, making you calmer as soon as you perceived his husky morning voice.

“I had a nightmare.” You confided, burying your face on his collarbone, using his scent to help your nerves.

“Wanna talk about it?” Karl wrapped you in his strong arms, pulling you to his lap as you instinctively hugged him.

“It was stupid, nothing special.” You tried to mask the real terror that consumed you minutes ago.

“Nah.” He clicked his tongue. “Nothing you say is stupid, buttercup.” For that, you smiled, resting on his intense grip.

“I was being hunted by a Vârcolac.” You finally confessed, feeling a bit ashamed of it, imagining that that man wouldn’t understand such human fear.

“Oh, Y/N, no need to be afraid, buttercup.” He smiled back at you; his adorable expression framed by messy grizzled hair locks. “Those damn things are far, you are safe. And I will never let them get any close to you, anyway.” He shrugged as if it was nothing for him to deal with.

Being held and told these words made you significantly less worried. Every obstacle for you seemed easier to Karl and he promised to take care of you. Of course, you wanted to be able to defend yourself and you could do that reasonably well, but with that sort of thing was a lot different. They were mutated beings and you were… Well, only human. In that manner, you felt safe with him, like that, resting in his arms, almost forgetting what had just upset you.

“Thank you, Karl.” You told his neck, pressing gentle kisses on his sweet spots surrounding his Adam’s apple, making him bit the interior of his cheek.

“No problem, kitten.” Heisenberg said, holding your chin with his free hand, making you rise your eyes and gaze at his bicoloured irises.

He leaned towards your lips, taking them in his, kissing you ever so passionately, you could melt in his warmth. You couldn’t get enough of his kisses. Feeling the scar on his bottom lip usually made you shiver, a sweet sensation flooding your entire form. He held you tighter, as if you would slip away at any moment. The man still incapable of believing you choose to stay there, with him, not once finding it a bad experience, as most people would by living in that factory.

You two have spent a lot of time together ever since the incident with the Soldat. At first, he was worried for you walking alone in the downer part of the building. He would check on you frequently when you were reading, listening to his records or even improving your bow, which he found fascinating. You would fetch him at his new office every now and then, maybe teasing him a bit to relax when he was working restlessly – not that you gave him enough time to rest with your recently discovered appetite for him.

He wasn’t too vocal with his feelings, but he made his best on complimenting you every chance he had. You were sure that spending most of his time alone made him a little awkward for that sort of intimate contact, but oh, he has been craving it so much since you set your foot on his factory. He tried to hide it, tell himself it would pass, however as the days went by, it only grew, making his chest rumble with his accelerated heartbeat every glimpse he had of your form.

Now he wouldn’t resist the temptation of falling asleep by your side as you cuddled him, tracing the lines of his scars so softly he would forget about the situations in which he gained them. You made everything cosier, even the daily choirs, the stressful works, if you were by his side, he would feel at ease.

He broke the kiss with a low groan. His eyes now had a starving sparkle enlivening them. Every since your first time with him, you were getting better and better on noticing the signs on his face when he wanted to have you, actually, when he neededto have you. And this time, the man was hungry, his heart desperately claiming your touch, his skin growing more sensitive the more time you spent on his lap.

“Damn, Y/N.” He whispered, bared teeth. “I swear you have some sort of power over me.” Karl proceeded to roughly kiss your jaw line, not certain if he wanted to press his lips on your skin or nip it. He did both.

“Oh, meine Hexe.” He chanted as he laid your back on the bed, you took the opportunity to envelop his hips with your legs, pressing his hardness against your pubic bone. “Meine frech Hexe.” Karl corrected himself, maliciously smirking at your action.

“Karl…” You moaned to his hoarse tone, aroused by his accent.

“What is it, Y/N?” He asked in a teasing way.

“I-I want you.” You cried for him.

“Already, sweetheart?” Karl giggled at your eager countenance, to that you could only nod, biting your bottom lip as he pressed his clothed hard cock against your bud through the thin fabric of your pantie. “What a thirsty whore you are.” He tormented you some more.

As Heisenberg pressed himself against you, doing nothing but rubbing both of your needy arousals for a moment, your hands found his forearms, digging your nails in his skin. He groaned, pinning your arms on the sheets, encaging you underneath him.

“Nah, nah, doll.” He denied you, clicking his tongue. “I like seeing you so desperate for my cock.” Karl leaned only to bite your bottom lip, almost until it bled.

“K-Karl, please.” You begged, moving your hips on his rod on, causing him to moan a bit.

“Argh, kitten, I need to taste you.” He stated, nothing else going on in his head but your flavours.

Karl made you take off his green shirt you’ve been wearing and left a trail of kisses down your abdomen, groping your breasts, pinching your hard nipples with his teeth and later pressing them in between his thumb and index finger. You whined with the contact, feeling a pleasant pinch of pain.

“Kitten, you are perfect.” He let out between his nips, going down on you.

His hands rested on you belly, securing you laying, helpless. He reached your waist line. Karl didn’t hesitate on tugging off your panties, irritated it was hiding the treasure from him. The man almost salivated at the sight of your juicy thighs, soaked due to his touches. Not being able to stop himself, his tongue ran along your clit, making you cry out.

It was only one lick, though, just enough for him to taste your sweetness, an appetizer. Heisenberg smirked at your sulky face, being denied of his tongue. He was interested on your thighs, squeezing them, licking the length until he got so close to your labia, but never really licking it, so you would moan desperately.

The man was going savage with your reactions. Drinking in every sound you let out, cute, tempting whines. He considered teasing you eternally just so he could keep listening, but your cunt was calling for him. He sucked onto your inner thigh, marking you as his. This was somewhat sore, but the warming sensation compensated it, leaving only pleasure to flood your brain.

“Look at the mess you making, kitten.” He commented, laughing at your state.

“All this teasing is gonna make me drown, Karl.” You managed to say in between moans.

“We will see about that.” Heisenberg defied.

As much as he would love to keep working on your thighs, Heisenberg was convinced a good girl like you deserved more attention on other areas. That was when you finally felt his warm, soft tongue on your clit. He wasn’t much gentle, oh no, Karl was starving, feeling his pre-cum slobbering his pants, but he already knew your sweet spots so well, being an eager student when it came to your body.

He was kissing and sucking onto your bottom, having you performing an opera of groans, his tongue making you spasm under the strength of his hands. He didn’t resist anymore, accompanying you with muffled moans, delighting himself on your slickness as he slipped down, on your entrance, licking all your juice.

“That is my good girl.” He called you, getting away from you pussy as he presented two fingers to you, resting them on your bottom lip, separating it from the upper one. “Suck ‘em, kitten.” Karl demanded and you obeyed with lusty eyes.

The sensation of your mouth around his fingers made his cock painfully throb, letting out a moan from him. He wasn’t done playing with you, though. Heisenberg led his fingers inside your cosiness, holding his breath as your walls clutched them, imagining how your pussy would perfectly accept his cock.

You were so wet, he couldn’t believe you got like that all because of him, but he loved it. Karl moved his fingers inside you, they formed a slight hook, reaching your G spot easily, making you cry out. It was starting to feel too much. Then he added his tongue. The stimulation on your clit plus the penetration was getting you closer. He knew it, feeling you squeeze his digits.

“C’mon, girl, come on my fingers.” He animalistic whispered.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, feeling too sensitive around his fingers, willing to come. Your orgasm had you spasming, your body reacting to what he had done to you, giving him a delightful spectacle. He only released you when he was certain you came all the way.

“Open up.” His slobbery fingers pressing against your lips again. You tasted yourself on him like that.

“I want you inside me, Karl.” You said as soon as you could.

“And you will have it, kitten.” He promised, his hands now working on getting rid of his pants.

It was an entrancing sensation to be free at last, his neglected cock feeling the chilly air, in despair to be inside your wet comfort warmness. He rubbed his tip on your clit, enjoying himself on your sounds and humidity. Feeling you like that was testing his limits.

Anytime away from your tightness was too much. Karl grunted with the friction, stopping abruptly. He looked you deep in the eye, the sweetest and hungriest of the looks, his needs for you almost overflowing there. Then he buried himself inside you, all his length easily accepted by you lubricated cunt, making the man groan. He never got tired of your insides, his now favourite place to be.

You took his dick so well, no matter how much it seemed to you, it fit perfectly. He just stayed there for a minute, enjoying the sensation of your walls clutching his cock, which was throbbing with any small friction provoked by minor movements of your hips. Heisenberg was driving you insane, filling you with every inch, so deep inside you.

Karl couldn’t help himself anymore. His teeth met your shoulder, biting hard, at the same time as he started rocking his hips, hitting your pleasure spots like he knew them by heart – and at that point he indeed knew. All you could do was groan with his thrusts, pinching his back with your nails, forcing him to be close, not a centimetre between you too.

His pace was getting feral, his cock coming in and just half out, never willing to let you go at all. You felt just too pleasant, flooding his mind with the sensation of your pussy embracing his length. You were a beautiful mess at that point, helpless with all he had you feeling. One specific angle made you more slick, leading Heisenberg to wail, his beard scrubbing your chest.

“F-fuck, kitten.” He cursed you. “Your pussy takes me so well.” He said, gripping your waist, making you feel him even deeper.

“Karl, you’re too deep.” You cried out.

“Oh, but you can take it, right, kitten? You love it, don’t you?” Karl had you rolling your eyes in delight.

“Y-yes.” You answered, feeling closer to your high.

He felt that, leading his thumb to rub your bud, not as fast as his thrusts, but enough to make you lose your mind, not sure how you could feel so good, but this man had you entirely given on his hands.

“Come to me, kitten, I wanna feel your cunt tightening me.” His wish was an order and so you came with his words, melting in his grip, your belly spasming, to which he smiled with satisfaction.

With you pressing him this much, so juicy, he was feeling himself coming near to his end. Heisenberg let your clit go, both his hands grasping your hips, burying himself in you, shoving his dick in. It hit you multiple times, directly on a special spot, making you shiver. He felt it against his cock as you swung for him.

He had to bit his bottom lip, sounds escaping his mouth anyway. Karl was almost there, you noticed, licking his exposed scarred chest to which he moaned even more.

“Give me it all, Karl.” You begged. “I need your cum inside me, p-please.” You asked, hit by another of his savage thrusts.

It was enough for him, Heisenberg let go, releasing himself inside you, filling you entirely with his delicious cum. You felt the warmth flooding your insides while you ran your nails on his sides. He rested his body on yours, not even thinking of getting out of your embrace.

“That was… Savage, buttercup.” He confided as you started playing with his sweaty hair, his head resting on your chest.

“I could say the same about you.” You giggled, his head moving so your eyes could meet.

“It is your fault you are so delicious.” He played back.

“Well, I can see why your house symbol is a horse.” You shrugged, making him laugh hard.

You two stayed on bed for a while, relaxing after the exercise. Your nightmare’s reactions long gone after the treatment Heisenberg gave you. You almost fell asleep with the man in your arms, only not doing so when he called you to the shower where he proved one more time he really couldn’t get enough of you.