#I'm not even going to pretend this won't have a thousand mistakes

[thew1ldblueyonder]

Forehead kisses are for friends?

Here's the thing about Robin and Steve; their friendship is one of a kind, and to the untrained eye their tactlessness, emotional and physical closeness could signal something romantic. But Eddie knows well that's not the case.

He does notice how much of their casual interactions go against the norm of platonic: sleeping in the same bed, sleeping on each other's laps, etc., but Eddie has never cared much about the norm. He himself goes very much against it, still a one man army facing off against conformity every day, at least in the little things.

The problem comes when he has to place himself into the equation that is Robin & Steve.

It happens like this:

Eddie hosts movie night. Normally Steve does, but this time he really wanted to do it. It seemed like a good idea.

Him, Jonathan, Argyle and Steve could smoke up a couple of joints - God knows they're all desperately in need of a distraction - and maybe Nancy would join in too - and if Nancy joins, Robin does too - and what better place to do that than at his trailer? The whole place already smells slightly of weed and the neighbors don't give a shit about it.

It's also a point of pride for him. Yes, the trailer is small. But it's alright. And he wants his newfound friends to find a home there, too. He wants to feel a little useful, at least.

So, people start arriving. Nancy drives Robin up, Jonathan and Argyle come together. Argyle is already spacey. Eddie's got the movie prepped, snacks on the table, and four traumatized monster hunters restlessly huddling up on his couch, and around it. He has placed some cushions on the floor as makeshift sitting places.

It's only Steve that's missing.

Robin and him are sitting on the floor, an empty cushion reserved for him between them, and she looks as restless as he feels.

See, Eddie's been kind if permanently on edge since the upside-down bullshit. He needs these people to be in places where they're supposed to be, when they're supposed to be. The whole thing kinda made him a control freak, sue him. But when his people are where he can see them he knows they're not in trouble. He knows they aren't getting pulled into the air, bones snapping like twigs...

When the door opens and Steve steps through with an apologetic smile Eddie lets out a relieved sigh. Robin perks up, and before Steve could even finish his explanation for his tardiness - something about keys, but Eddie thinks he's lying and would bet that he's just had a bad hair day and has been spending way too much time trying to fix it - she reaches for him, like a child wanting to be picked up.

Steve goes to her immediately, grabs her hands gently, and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

Not unusual. Eddie almost chuckles at the sweet and casual display of affection, ready to be jokingly snarky, to urge Steve to sit down, finally.

Except, faced with Steve Harrington, placing two hands on the side of his head and bending down, his head quiets immediately. It happens in an instant. Steve reaches down, and kisses him between his eyebrows, redirecting his bangs with one hand. It's short, and thank god for that, because Eddie stops breathing entirely for the duration of the thing. Just a quick platonic smack of lips.

He doesn't even notice the way Eddie sucks in a breath, frozen in place. Doesn't seem to see how he stays frozen, even after Steve sits down next to him, chatting idly with Argyle, leaning back against his leg. He's entirely unaware of his emotional turmoil.

Eddie blinks, his head fuzzy. The feeling of soft lips against his forehead still lingering. He looks ahead of him, and then looks at Robin, who's already watching him. She has an expression of curiosity, that he unfortunately cannot satisfy at all.

Steve doesn't kiss anybody else on the forehead.

Eddie spends the whole night thinking about it.

Was it just because he was also on the floor? Was it a bit? Did he somehow become part of the weird symbiosis that's Robin & Steve? Is he a platonic soulmate now?

Can he not be?

Can he get another kiss? (Preferably on the mouth.)

[gyuzgrl]

her //kmg// pt.2

pt 2 of 'her'- the morning after reveals much to y/n, and she makes a difficult decision- one that neither her nor Mingyu seem to escape from unscathed.

Dread, shame, confusion.

The morning after a night of love shouldn't leave one feeling this way, yet here you are, lying paralysed in bed, next to a man you can't seem to figure out.

Why did he find solace in another's bed? Why was it the same woman every time? Were his words from last night even true?

Questions haunt you, floating around inside your head like ghosts in an empty castle. When one fades, another takes it's place, poking holes in your rationality, mocking you for what you've done.

How could you give in so easily? After everything he's done, after the betrayal- how could you let him in? Vulnerable and exposed, you let him see you, hear you, touch you?

Embarrassment doesn't even begin to cover what you feel.

Your skin feels sticky and each spot he touched burns into you, like red-hot metal, sizzling tender flesh. The kisses, the grip marks, every point of contact feels wrong. Of course, last night was consensual- two grown adults made a decision to spend a night together- but you can't shake that sickly feeling taking over you; a thick, dark oil, staining your skin as you sink further and further into despair.

Turning over, you let your eyes scan over Mingyu's face- sleeping peacefully, unaware of the havoc he's caused in your mind. The gentle sighs of breath, the way his lashes tickle his skin, how his lips settle into the prettiest pout- it isn't fair. None of it is.

He doesn't get to sleep like this while your mind races at a thousand miles per second. He doesn't get to live ignorantly like this.

You won't let it happen.

You won't swallow your pride and pretend like everything's okay.

Slipping out from under the covers, you head straight for a shower. Silky, warm water embraces you, washing away the stains of yesterday, only for them to resurface and solidify the past. No matter how hard you scrub, no matter how desperately you scratch, the marks remain as they are- seething red reminders of how small you made yourself for Mingyu's affections.

Before you know it, tears begin to flow- tears of shame, of humiliation. All it took was for him to say he returned your feelings, and you forgave everything. You let him touch you mere hours after he'd laid his hands on another woman- god what has happened to you?

You step into your robe, the pearly white colour of the fabric mocking you as if to say- "you're the shell of who you once were."

Time passes as it usually does, and you find yourself at the breakfast table, staring into the distance. Your mind has finally settled to a conclusion.

This must end.

As you sit, unmoving, Mingyu begins to stir from his sleep. An arm extends itself out of habit, feeling for your body beside him, and he jolts awake when his skin comes in contact with cold, lifeless cloth.

Panic fills his nerves in the flash of a second and he scrambles out of bed, stumbling over to the hall. Clumsy, frantic feet thud along the ground and he calls out your name, voice hoarse as if holding back a sob.

"I'm here," you state, eyes still fixed at the wall.

Mingyu feels his muscles slump back into relaxation. You're still here. You didn't leave.

"I uh, I thought... Never mind, have you eaten?" he grins, eyes sparkling as he gazes at you lovingly, "I'll fix something up for us- what do you feel like eating? something soup-y? pancakes? eggs? I make really good eggs-"

"last night was a mistake."

His voice fades to a deathly still. The luster in his eyes dulls to a cold brown and he slumps down onto the chair opposite yours.

"oh." he says softly.

"I've had some time to think..."

"and?"

"I don't think we should live together. Or be together. No matter what your reasons were, Mingyu, the fact remains the same- you cheated on me. Nothing will change that, nothing will make that go away."

Mingyu leans forward, tears springing in the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry, y/n- I wish I could c-"

"I know you're sorry. Trust me, I know, Mingyu- but you've done this to yourself. You've been aware of every decision as you made it, you did what you did, knowing fully well that it was wrong. There's no forgiving that. Whatever our feelings are, it doesn't matter anymore."

His head hangs low as your words tear into him. You're right, after all. He did in fact cheat on you. It was his decision, his choice. It's unfair for you to suffer because of his mistakes.

"I'll come back for my things sometime this week." you sigh, moving from your seat, taking hold of your handbag, "Goodbye, Mingyu."

A few days have passed, and you've settled into an expensive hotel, gathering yourself together as other things call for your attention.

Formalities make divorces so much harder than they need to be...

While you sort through legal matters with your family lawyer, Mingyu finds himself falling into a dangerously dark hole. You've been gone all of three days and he's lost himself completely. He hasn't slept, hasn't gone outside, hasn't eaten- it's as if he's lost his will to live.

Your words haunt him, echoing in his head over and over. Desperately, he's tried to silence his thoughts, tried to chase away your voice, but he can't. What makes it all so much worse, is that he knows you're right.

This is all his fault, after all. He really has done this to himself, and he's hurt you too in the bargain.

It's late in the evening, the sky outside flushes dark grey clouds along, as a faint outline of the moon peeks through. Winds howl terribly all around, hinting at the storm that is to come.

The doorbell rings, echoing through the empty house, startling Mingyu out of his daze. Sloppily, he treads to the door, cracking it open to reveal an unfamiliar face.

"can I help you-?" he mutters, eyes skimming lazily over the suited man before him.

"Mister Kim Mingyu? I'm Miss Y/n's lawyer. I understand you've separated, yes?"

Just when he thought he couldn't sink lower than he already has, Mingyu feels his stomach drop as he descends into anguish.

He's smart enough to gauge what's happening. You're legitimizing the divorce- making it real in the eyes of the law.

"sir?"

A voice pulls him back to reality, and he lifts his head up, nodding as he motions for the man to come inside. Dull, confused footsteps lead into the living area and Mingyu takes a seat on the couch, beckoning your lawyer to do the same.

"There are papers you are required to sign, sir." he begins, reaching into his bag to pull out a stack of crisp white sheets, stapled perfectly.

Mingyu stares dumbly at the paper, back hunched, throat dry. He's frozen. There's not a thought in his head, not a sensation in his body.

A minute passes in silence, and he stays unmoved.

The man clears his throat, clicking his pen open before handing it to Mingyu.

"here, you can use mine," he forces an encouraging smile, feeling his heart break at Mingyu's disheveled state. Although he's been made aware of your situation, Mingyu's helpless state tugs at his heartstrings and he can't help but feel sympathetic towards the latter.

"th-thank you,"

With shaky hands, Mingyu takes hold of the pen, stopping at the blank spot resigned for his signature. An indescribable pressure weighs him down. His future, his love, his sanity all sit under the blade of this guillotine- a mere pen.

This pen might just be mightier than any sword he'll ever face.

Sensing his reluctance, the suited man places a hand on his shoulder-

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn, I know we don't know each other- but I've, uh, I've seen this before. I've handled cases like this before and all I can say to make this easier is that you're doing this for her. Not for yourself. If you truly feel guilty for the past, if you truly love her, this is the way you give her her pride back. This is how you can do what's good for her."

His words spur Mingyu into action, resonating deep within the latter's being. Letting you go is unbearable. It stings and burns and swells all at once, but if it lets you heal, if it's good for you, he'll do it in a second.

Scribbling his signature onto the bottom of the page, Mingyu hands the papers over.

"thank you," he says, genuinely this time, "is she-" he hesitates, "is she doing okay?"

The man smiles sadly, rising to his feet- "I'm afraid that's a breach of confidentiality, sir"

And just like that, he's gone, leaving Mingyu alone once again. He settles into bed, draping your blanket over himself as his mind floods over with thoughts of you.

"I hope she doesn't think I gave up on us..."

Then, like a soaring wave, it hits him. What if you think he's taking the easy way out and that his feelings aren't real? What if you expected him to throw a fit and come swoop you up from whatever hotel you're hidden away in?

"fuck-" he curses under his breath, digging around the sheets for his phone.

Mingyu types out a messy apology, pawing at his phone with thick fingers.

"I hope you don't think I'm giving up. As much as I wanted to fight for you, as much as I wanted to rip those papers to shreds, I know this is what you deserve- a shot at real love. Love that doesn't hurt you like I did. I love you so much, Y/n, but you're right, this is my mistake. You shouldn't be the one to suffer for it. I'm sorry for it all. Letting you go is the hardest thing I'll do, but it's what I deserve now. I had the world in my hands and I gave it up for nothing."

Your lip quivers as you read his words. There's a sense of defeat in his tone, as if realization has finally hit and he's understood the gravity of his actions.

Despite his acceptance of your decision, you feel a sharp pang of hurt deep inside your chest. You're doing the right thing. You're protecting yourself. You're being strong.

So, why does it hurt this bad?

Unfocused eyes begin to water, dripping salty puddles onto the screen below, and you realize you're crying.

Mingyu's words from that night play in your head, like a devastating melody, planting seeds of doubt where revenge and empowerment were beginning to grow.

You need to snap out of this.

Now.

Surely, one text message shouldn't have you forgetting all the pain he's caused. You simply cannot give in.

"It's late." you tell yourself, hoping that speaking aloud will give you some semblance of authority over your frenzied feelings, "gotta get some rest"

While you drift off to sleep, Mingyu's thoughts hone in on you, just like they have all these nights. Lying on your side of the bed, huddled in a swarm of your blanket and clothes, he does his best to pretend like you're still here.

He curses himself for that night, chastises himself for all the nights before. There really is no excuse, no explanation that could make what he did okay- he knows- which is why, he's leaving you alone. No matter how much pain he's in, no matter how many bottles he's downed, Mingyu doesn't let his toils bother you.

No drunk phone calls, no angry visits, not even a text. Not one attempt to try and beg you to change your mind.

Ironically, the respect he extends now, by leaving you alone, makes you feel worse somehow. Guilty, even.

Taking a deep inhale, Mingyu lets your fading scent flood his senses, and instantly, the memories come flooding in- how you kissed him so tenderly, how your skin tasted, how you came alive under his touch.

"fuck," he whispers, voice trembling, "if I knew that night would be the last time I could touch you-"

Oh, he'd worship you.

Mingyu pictures it- clear as day.

He would've held you tight in his arms, pressing his forehead to yours as you share one breath. He would've kissed you so deeply, making sure to commit your taste to memory, pushing further, harder, until his own mortality forced him to pull away.

When your face fell at the sight of her marks, Mingyu would've kissed your eyes and placed your hand on his heart saying- "you hear that? that's all for you, my love- no one else, just you". And if that didn't do the trick, he'd be more than willing to dig those marks out of his skin, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it bled.

Most of all, he'd savor you.

As he crawls down your body, he would kiss every inch of your skin, thanking you for letting him. No God could give him this power, no divine force could allow him to touch you- only you had that authority.

And that, makes you greater than any God he's ever prayed to.

Each kiss would be deliberate, slow. He'd close his eyes, brows set in a deep furrow as his lips take you in greedily, like Jesus' first disciple eating at the Eucharist.

Mingyu feels himself grow hard at the thought- being so close to you, kissing you, feeling you. He takes in a shaky breath to compose himself, but in vain.

It has no effect.

No number of breaths, no volume of alcohol, no hours of sleep will ever be enough to push you away.

So, he gives in.

A hand sneaks down under the blanket, beyond the waistband of Mingyu's sweatpants, ghosting over his cock. He hisses as his fingers graze the reddened tip, hips jerking up to chase that feeling.

Letting his thoughts resume, Mingyu works himself in time with his imagination.

His hands explore your skin, soothing their way down to where you need him most. You tremble under his touch, back arching when he puts his mouth to your cunt.

Eagerly, he laps at your slit, taking in your sweet-salt taste- so addictive he's sure this is all he needs now. Not food, not shelter, not money- just you.

You writhe under him, slipping your hands into his hair, tugging at his locks, and his eyes roll back. The sting of his scalp only spurs him on, and his tongue prods your clit in rapid bursts.

"Mingyu-" you choke out, his name like a plea on your lips.

He sucks harder, pushes you further, and dips his tongue inside you, nudging into your pulsating core. It takes you by surprise, and you can't help the cry that escapes you-

"Mingyu!"

As you tighten around him, Mingyu devours you from the inside out, swallowing every last drop you have to offer, coaxing as much as he can from you until you're spent.

"Mingyu," you moan, clutching his hair tighter as you feel your release mere seconds away, "Min-"

"Mingyu"

A sticky white pool of shame sits at the groove of his thumb, collecting in the dip between his fingers.

"shit."

Stupefied by disbelief, Mingyu stays deathly still. It's pathetic, honestly. He's aware of how he must look, aware of how wrong it is to use you for his own pleasure, but he just can't help himself.

He really can't.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Could you please write a G!P Donna fic where Reader finds it incredibly hot whenever Donna finishes inside of her. Idk I just want more Donna smut in my life. I appreciate your contributions to the Fandom.

Yess!!!! Thank you for your request and for your kind words!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes :))))

Take me in the church

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI

Word count: 4,904

Summary: Maybe to go to church was a good idea after all...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Give me another one,” the Angie doll said, pretending to think about what her master move was going to be in such a simple game.

“As you wish...” You hummed, amused by her lack of care, taking another card from the small pile. “Mm, 23, you went too far, I win again.”

“What? 23 is greater than 17,” the doll protested, indignant at your invincible list of victories. You rolled your eyes and shuffled the cards again.

“I've told you a thousand times, Angie. If you go over 21, you lose,” you explained, putting a card in front of each one again.

“Cheater!” The puppet screeched, enraged because she was unable to defeat you. You laughed amused, taking the opportunity to give the puppet a gentle push.

“I never cheat... Only in love,” you joked, looking at your card and bringing the rest closer to Angie.

“Donna won't like to know that,” the doll threatened, to which you raised your eyebrow.

“Give me a card and shut up," you said, making another attempt to destabilize Angie's fragile balance.

Why were you playing blackjack with a porcelain doll? The answer was anything but simple.

Born and raised in a remote village, your life was never interesting. Only that strange cult, those creatures, could make you live some kind of adventure. But not even the adrenaline that you and your friends experienced while running away from some Lycans could compare to what you felt that day, the day when your desire for exploration took you to go to forbidden places.

Nobody knew what exactly was behind that blazon of a moon and a sun. No one knew exactly what or who Donna Beneviento was. She was a Lord, serving the supreme witch, Mother Miranda. Her dark and mysterious figure gave rise to many legends, many rumors, each one more extravagant.

You figured you must have been afraid to meet her, when she caught you snooping around her grounds. Quite the opposite. That air of mystery, that stoic pose, that black cloth hiding her face. Fear was the last thing you felt.

Surely that attitude of yours of ignoring or evading problems with a good dose of charisma was what scared Donna, at least enough for her not to kill you by setting foot on her estate.

A simple villager, that's what you were, but one who wasn't afraid of her, one who didn't hesitate to smile at her presence. Saving your life was the first of her miracles. Falling in love was the second.

Shy, sick and lonely, Donna had no one but her doll, anyone who wanted to talk to her, or at least try to. You came into her life the same way she came into yours, accidentally, but that didn't mean it was something temporary. No, it wasn’t temporary at all.

The talks became a routine. You even left your friends aside to enter that dark forest every day, becoming more and more interested in her, until her interest inevitably turned into attraction.

Donna had a lot of things to learn. She didn't know about love, about people. You weren't a particularly patient girl, but with her, it was different. After an innocent time, of kisses, of caresses, of Donna's fear of showing her face. The rainy afternoon in which your lips did the work arrived, colliding with hers. “You are beautiful,” you said as you looked at her wounded face, the beauty that horrible black fabric hid.

Everything else was a matter of time. You stopped living in the village to live with her, you left everything behind, and you didn't regret it. You have never been happier.

“What do you have?” You asked, carefully studying your possibilities.

“18,” Angie said, with a threatening tone. It would be better to let her win that time...

“Wow, I'm 16, you win,” you said amused, preventing the doll from seeing what cards you really had. A sinister laugh invaded the room. Oh, maybe it was a mistake, now she’d be rubbing her victory in your face for all eternity.

Fortunately the sound of the elevator interrupted the doll's mocking songs. Donna spent hours in her workshop and you didn't want to bother her, well, most of times.

Her mourning figure appeared in front of you, walking slowly and elegantly. You frowned.

“Look, the Ghost of Christmas Past,” you murmured amused, getting up from the ground and walking towards the lady in black. “Donna, what are you doing with the veil on?” You asked curiously, moving the black fabric away to kiss her lips.

“Mother Miranda is going to give a sermon in the church,” the lady explained, with that soft, hoarse voice that betrayed its lack of use. You rolled your eyes, disappointed.

“Today?” You asked with disappointment in your eyes. She nodded slowly, caressing your cheek in a sweet, messy way. You loved that innocent way of loving you. Well, innocent most of times.

“That's how Mother Miranda wanted it,” she said, making your stomach clench because of your anger. You hated that the priestess was always one step above you.

“But, Donna...” You sighed, lowering your hands to her waist and gently pulling her body, putting on your best pleading face. “Today is our special day,” you lamented.

She tilted her head, curious about that phrase.

“If I haven't counted wrong, there are still three months until our anniversary, (Y/N),” she said, amused, letting to be hugged.

You shook your head.

“No, is not that. You don’t remember? Today is the day you lost your…” You purred in her ear, making the lady in black step back, embarrassed.

“Okay, okay, yes, I remember. You don't need to say it,” she said shyly, avoiding your gaze. You laughed amused, raising and lowering your eyebrows seductively.

You knew that sex, like love or human relationships, was a unknown subject for Donna. She was never with anyone. She never had the chance to experience something like that, at least until you came. That fact made her feel stupid, a loser. You kept reminding her that she wasn't and, well, you didn't care about her body, nor about the changes that the Cadou had caused on it.

“I had thought we could celebrate... Maybe in the forest, like that time,” you whispered in the best seductive voice you could muster, one that you knew made her shiver.

Donna laughed, but she shook her head, putting the hands on your chest to keep you from coming any closer. Surely if you did, she would have fallen into temptation.

“I'm sorry, tesoro... But I have to go,” she said with a sad tone, alleviating your disappointment with a kiss on the cheek. “You can come with me.”

“Me? To church?” You asked ironically, crossing your arms. The lady nodded again, picking Angie up from the floor and holding her in her arms.

“Mother Miranda knows you all. It's not the first time she's asked about you,” Donna commented, walking towards the door, closely followed by your disappointed figure. You mumbled something incomprehensible, luckily.

“Well, let her keep asking,” you said with a dry tone, looking away from the lady. “I don't care.”

“Please, my love, do it for me. I don't want anything to happen to you,” your girlfriend pleaded, holding your hand and trying to destabilize your cocky pose. You looked away with a disinterested gasp.

“Oh...” You sighed, shaking your head. “No, I better wait for you here.”

"Come on, then we could take a romantic walk in the forest, like you wanted,” Donna said, insisting almost desperately.

“Donna...” You growled, in the face of that cruel blackmail that certainly wasn't that cruel. “Oh, okay, okay, you win, I'll go with you. But then we'll do what I want, deal?”

“Thank you, tesoro,” she said, happy to have won that dialectical battle, giving you another kiss on the cheek as a reward and taking your hand, dragging your reluctant body towards the door.

“You owe me one, huh?” You said, closing the door behind you. Donna nodded effusively and pulled you across the grounds. You certainly didn't really want to go to that church.

The road was hectic, but it was true that walking with her in a place other than the old house was refreshing, and not just because of the cold of that place.

The church was packed, full of villagers who used to be your neighbors. The regret of being there hit you hard when their gaze was directed towards you, followed by an indiscreet whisper, which was surely talking about you.

“What are you looking at?” You asked one of your former friends, who immediately turned his head away as Donna led you by the hand to a secluded corner of the building.

“Stay here, my love... Don't worry, I won't be long,” Donna whispered to you, caressing your hand and leaning to kiss you through the black fabric of her face.

You sighed and shook your head, watching as she walked away from to take her traditional spot near the altar. Looking around, you leaned against the wall with your arms crossed. At least you weren't around those suspicious glances.

“(Y/N), what a surprise,”  a velvety voice brought you out of your thoughts. Her winged figure and her ridiculous priestess robes gave her away from miles. Miranda.

“Mother Miranda,” you said without much interest. Maybe you were putting too much trust in the relationship you had with Donna. Maybe you shouldn't be so brazen, showing your disdain for the village leader.

“I'm very happy to know that Donna has managed to bring you back to the path of the Black Gods,” she said amused, with a sardonic smile under that golden mask. You frowned and sighed, holding back your urge to swear.

“She’s very convincing,” you murmured, looking at the lady in black, who didn't take her gaze off of you.

“I guess so,” the priestess commented, placing a cold hand on your shoulder and walking, fortunately, away from you.

At least you were standing and didn't have the ability to fall asleep. The sermon was boring, sinister as always. You were very tired of pretending that this woman was a Goddess or something, but it would be better to play along and pretend, for your own sake, and maybe Donna's.

Even so, you couldn't help but look at the lady in black from time to time, with a mocking smile, mocking Miranda's words with extravagant grimaces. Just as you thought, that had its effect, causing Donna to shift nervously in her chair, hiding her laughter from her siblings and her Goddess.

“Go with the blessing of the Gods, dear subjects,” Miranda finally said, extending her arms in an extravagant way, making those present bow and little by little left the building along with the rest of the Lords, except Donna, who stood up slowly, walking towards you.

“I shouldn't have brought you here,” she whispered, annoyed but amused, crossing her arms. You shrugged, pushing that horrible fabric away again and kissing her lips quickly and exaggeratedly.

“You sure had fun,” you joked, to which she responded with a quick tap on your shoulder and one of those adorable shy giggles.

“Yes, and that's not right,” she protested, taking your hand, caressing it slowly while Angie surrounded you with her usual teasing.

“I can't help it, I love seeing you smile,” you whispered in her ear, making her laugh again and shake her head.

“You haven't seen me,” she said, pointing to her veil.

“But I know you smiled,” you joked again, taking a look at that small chapel. “This place gives me chills. What about that walk?”

“I would love to, (Y/N),” Donna sighed, walking towards the exit.

You felt relieved, but before you could leave the church, something caught your attention. You had never been the best of believers, and you had never paid attention to the altar of that building. Your curiosity made you walk towards it, where some old photographs were framed next to the annoying Mother Miranda's prayer to the Black Gods.

“What are you doing?” The lady in black asked, following you cautiously. You pointed to one of the photographs, hers.

“Nothing, just taking a look," you said. “Seriously, Donna, that photo?”

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked curiously, looking at her own gray and sad portrait.

“Why do you always look like a wandering soul?” You joked, making her step back confused.

“It's just a photo, (Y/N)” she whispered, annoyed by your comment. “Let's take that walk.”

The tug she gave on your wrist was useless, since you had no intention of moving from that place. The empty and mysterious church stopped giving you chills to send other types of ideas and sensations to your body, some dangerous ideas.

“Come on, (Y/N), we can't stay here,” she told you hurriedly, as if your look was giving away your intentions.

“Why not? Is prohibited?” You asked amused, playing with the offerings that were on a small table.

“Well, not technically, but...” Donna murmured, stopping you from putting a grape in your mouth and leaving it back in the basket. “Come on, stop fooling around and…”

“What? I'm not doing anything wrong,” you said amused, with a dark look, sitting in the chair occupied by the lady in black during the sermons.

“Didn't you want to go for a walk that much?” Donna asked, looking around her, checking that the doors were closed and no one could see your audacity.

“Yes, but now I feel like being here,” you said ironically, crossing your legs. “You, heretic, you are going to be devoured by wolves for hiding your beauty,” you joked, making her sigh and shake her head.

“Heretic, heretic!” Angie repeated, jumping up and pointing at poor Donna, who snorted in annoyance.

“Look what you've done, you've excited Angie,” the lady in black complained, who extended her hand toward the puppet to keep it still.

“Have I excited you too?” You purred standing up from the chair and hanging tenderly around her neck, making Donna walk backwards until her back hit the wall.

“What? Oh, (Y/N), please don't...” She said, her breathing labored by your approach, being interrupted by a finger that was placed under her veil and rested on her lips.

“Shh, be quiet, Beneviento, this is a church,” you whispered in her ear, biting her earlobe, making her squirm, trapped between you and the wall.

“You're making me nervous, tesoro,” she said, avoiding your caresses as best she could. Your lust had been unleashed and the naughty thoughts that ran through your mind only grew stronger and stronger, as did your desire.

“Am I? Great,” you joked, tilting the black fabric from her face to be able to kiss her better, to be able to deepen that kiss in a hot and sensual way.

“We must, we must go,” Donna stammered, releasing from your grip and adjusting her veil.

“No, no,” you joked, grabbing her wrist and moving poor Donna against the wall again.

“Don't do that, per favore,” she begged, while you moved her veil away again and brought your body even closer to hers. You laughed when you saw her so nervous. Oh yeah, that was going to be funny.

“Your sweet words aren't going to save you now,” you whispered, enjoying her confused and nervous look. “If you want to get out of here, you have to confess yourself, my love.”

“What? Confess?” She asked, shaking her head. She was terribly nervous. You could see it in her trembling. That was something you planned to use to your advantage.

“Come on, it will be funny,” you said with a smile, this time more tender, caressing her cheek. You wanted to make her nervous, but you didn't want her to lose her temper. Anything but that.

“I think we have different concepts of what is funny, tesoro,” she said, laughing nervously, but also, with some amusement.

“Well, whatever you want, I'll start,” you said, still smiling, making her open her mouth to say something, but she regretted it at the last moment. Maybe you have gotten her curious. “Do you want to know what my confession is?”

Your hot words and cheeky whispers made her entire body suddenly tense, finally knowing what your intentions might be. Donna just stared at you and shook her head, slowly.

You bit your lip and approached her ear again, feeling her heavy breathing very close to you.

“I confess that I love when you cum inside of me,” you whispered with a low voice, with a mischievous smile. “Nothing makes me feel better than your sem…”

“(Y/N), stop that,” Donna said, getting even more upset, blushing at your rude words, something that always made her excited, even if she denied it. “You know I hate when you talk that way.”

You raised an eyebrow, but didn't move away from her, running your hand down her body to the small bulge noticeable between her legs.

“Well, it seems like your body is happy with my confession,” you joked, caressing her budding erection through the fabric of her dress, causing her to gasp in embarrassment and turn her head away. “You are so sensitive… I love it, Donna.”

“Come on, let's go. We can, we can continue talking about this at home,” she said, stammering, repressing her desire to close her eye and let herself be carried away by the pleasure of your caresses.

You shook your head, directing your lips to her neck, kissing it lovingly, sinking your teeth into her skin, making her gasps become less and less discreet.

“No, my love. Not at home,” you said seductively. “We’re going to talk here.”

She shook her head, grabbing your wrist so her erection wouldn't be released from her dress.

“W, wait, (Y/N), not here,” she said, almost surrendered to the pleasure, a terribly exciting sight for you.

You crossed your arms, but didn’t desist in your actions, kissing her on the lips to silence her fears. Donna was partly right, someone could show up there at any moment, but that only made it more exciting, even more so when Angie was lying limp on the floor.

“What is my punishment for my sins, Donna?” You asked, bringing her hand to your chest, making her caress your body inside your dress. No matter how much she denied it, the situation was also exciting for her.

“Your... Your punishment?” She asked, her voice cracking with pleasure, from feeling your naked skin in such a forbidden place. She was already yours, she couldn't escape anymore, and she didn't want to do it either.

You nodded with your most relaxed gaze, searching hers for any sign that this was too much for her. You could see her nervousness, but her arousal was much more evident, which made you continue.

“Maybe you want me to kneel and beg for your forgiveness, do you want that, darling?” You asked, lowering yourself to the floor slowly until the wood collided with your knees and your hands traveled along the black fabric of her dress.

Donna didn't know how to respond, she just looked around again and then at you, as if her conscience was fighting, deciding whether or not it was a good idea. After a sigh of relief, a slightly sinister smile formed on her face.

“Okay, fine, kneel, (Y/N), but if it's a punishment, it'll have to look like one, don't you think?” She told you with a nervous voice, but with that point of seduction that revealed her excitement, apart from her body, of course.

“Oh… And what is it going to be?” You asked, making big eyes and a face like a good girl who wanted to be punished.

“You won't see my face,” she whispered, bending down to take your chin and kiss you before covering herself with the veil, making you bite your lip again.

“Oh... Well, your face isn't exactly what I wanted to look at...” You teased, playing with the black fabric until her shaft was freed from its prison, shiny, hard from your words and your lack of sense of risk.

“You better use your mouth for something different than talking. I don't want to hear you,” she said, grabbing your hair with her hand, releasing a dominant side that you didn't know about, but that sent a wave of pleasure between your legs.

You laughed at the obvious shyness that her words still betrayed, but you obeyed immediately, grabbing her erection and kissing the tip, running your tongue delicately over her skin, making her entire body shiver with pleasure.

You moaned against her as her hand forced your mouth down, to surround her length with your lips in a hasty manner. In that way, her haste was revealed, but you, oh, no, you were in no hurry at all and you managed to be the one who controlled the pace.

“Hurry up, (Y/N),” the lady in black demanded as your hand joined the movements, matching the rhythm of your mouth. You smiled wickedly, licking her shaft again, ceasing the gentle movements of your hand to make her moan at the lack of contact.

You shook your head, lingering on the tip with an almost painful slowness, causing her grip on your hair to tighten, lifting your head towards her.

“What have I told you?” Donna asked, with her face hidden by her veil, something you didn't think would excite you that much. “Come on, hurry up, get it over with.”

“Hurrying is not good, Donna,” you said amused, only using your hand to stimulate her, making her protest with a snort and a strong tug on your hair. No, no, you weren't going to let the fun end so soon, but hey, you didn't want to make poor Donna suffer either. Her erection trembled anxiously as your lips surrounded it again, this time moving faster and faster, in a constant rhythm that elicited soft, discreet moans from the lady in black.

“That, that's it... I'm so close,” she murmured, following your movements with her hand buried in your hair. That was the signal for you to move away from her, for your mouth to abruptly leave her erection, causing Donna to protest by hitting her fist against the chapel wall.

“What the hell are you doing? Keep going, (Y/N),” she said nervously, annoyed by your attitude and the things you forced her to do. You ignored her words and grabbed her hand, leading her to the altar.

“Who's the rude one now, huh?” You ironized, putting your hand in your dress to let your underwear hang from one of your ankles while you sat on that small altar, next to the photographs and sermons of that sinister cult. “Come here, Donna.”

The doll maker breathed heavily, nervously, but she obeyed, approaching your outstretched legs and grabbing them tightly, digging her nails into your skin.

“I will never forgive you for this,” she hissed angrily, as her hips got closer and she positioned her erection at your wet and hungry entrance, making the moans now yours.

You murmured in satisfaction when you noticed her shaft slowly entering you, making your body stretch to let it pass, a sensation that you loved almost as much as what you had confessed a few minutes before.

“Wait, slow down, you're big, Donna,” you said when you saw how rushed she was. She looked at you, but you couldn't know how, that black veil hid her face, as well as her intentions.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, with a sinister tone, going deeper and deeper until she was completely inside of you. You shook your head, hissing at the feeling of your walls tightening around her prominent erection.

“It doesn’t, but you know that I need some time to...” You said amused, closing your eyes due to the sensations that her movements sent to your body.

“I already told you...” She said, grabbing your legs, spreading them further apart to gain more access when she began to move her hips. “…That we don't have time.”

“Oh, Donna,” you moaned, letting yourself be carried away by her erratic thrusts, by the sound of the objects on the altar shaking from the movement. “Yes, yes, keep going…”

She just moaned in response, keeping a steady pace, enjoying the way your body adapted to her seamlessly. It was a quick, improvised, passionate act, far from routine. You couldn't ask for more in a special day like that.

The possible dangers and risks of doing it in a place like that were clouded by the pleasure, by how Donna moved inside you, by how your advances had that effect on her. She was weak, susceptible to temptation. At that moment you were the tempting demon, and she was the poor sinner who let herself be carried away by your words.

That situation, combined with seeing the photograph of the stupid Mother Miranda trembling under Donna’s thrusts, was much better than you thought. An act of revenge on your part, an act of love that was superior to Miranda’s simple, confusing sermons.

“You're so tight, (Y/N),” Donna commented, letting you know that her modesty had disappeared the moment you made that confession. Donna was shy but her body made her say or do those kind of things when she was as excited as she was at the moment. You could feel it. You could feel her hard penis crying out for its release.

You smiled, biting your lip and reaching out your hand to take hers, so not to make this a purely carnal act. The love you felt was far superior to that pleasure and you knew that the lady in black loved to feel loved, to feel that for you it was more than just a funny time.

“I love you, Donna,” you whispered, moving your hips when she stopped, confused by your words, breathing hard.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, stopping digging her nails into your skin, forgetting what she was doing for a moment.

“Come on, keep going, I'm close,” you said, shaking your body to make her resume her movements, something she did hurriedly, but slower, romantically. Unexpected, impromptu sex was fine, but when Donna got romantic… That was something out of this world.

“Is that true, (Y/N)?” She asked, controlling the intensity of her movements, preventing her near release from preventing you from feeling yours. “Is it true that you like me to do it inside?”

You widened your eyes at those rude words coming out of her covered mouth. Her movements were becoming more precise, sliding smoothly inside you, making a feint to get out, which made you look at her with wide eyes.

“Yes, Donna, it’s true, please... I need it,” you said with a pleading tone, seeing her intentions, seeing what punishment she had thought for you.

“But what kind of punishment would that be?” Donna asked, amused, playing with her hips, continuing to give you that pleasure, that feeling that you wouldn't get what you wanted so much. “Maybe I should do it outside, don't you think? That's how you would learn.”

“You wouldn't dare,” you hissed, moving your hips closer until your body was completely on the edge of that sinister altar.

“I don’t know, it depends on you,” she said in a distracted voice, raising your legs and moving her hips elegantly, emphasizing the pleasure that her thrusts gave you.

“I'll be good, I promise,” you said pleadingly, noticing how tension began to form in your body. Just thinking about her release made yours even closer.

“Mm,” she murmured, increasing her speed, not being able to control the pleasure she felt. You noticed her erection trembling more and more, getting closer to filling you up.

When you knew the end was near, your body sent you one of the best orgasms you had ever experienced, releasing your legs from her grip and moving them in a disorderly manner, while your screams began to echo through that small chapel.

“How scandalous...” Donna said, suppressing her own moans as she felt your walls holding her tightly, preventing her from leaving your body.

Before you could respond, a loud moan followed yours. Donna leaned over you, releasing herself the way you wanted, inside of you. Her heat invaded your insides, caressing it in a wet and pleasant way, in a way that made your body cry out for another release, which did not take long to arrive, making you lean over her and hug her intensely while you felt her heat slid off your body, soaking your dress.

“It’s been good, huh?” You said amused, getting up from the altar, dedicating one last superb look at the priestess's portrait while Donna kept her shame in her dress, trying to catch her breath.

“We shouldn't have done that,” she murmured, shaking her head and picking up poor, inert Angie from the floor.

“That's what you say now. You loved it,” you joked, giving her a nudge, which made her head turn quickly towards you.

“Shut up. Don’t even mention it. I don't want to hear about this again, is that clear?” Donna said shyly, embarrassed, to which you rolled your eyes and ran after her, leaving the church.

“Should we take a walk?”

[kritzel]

Adams Past Thoughts

(English isn't my first language so sorry if I make mistakes)

After finishing HH I got to thinking, was Adam always the way that we see him in the show.

Because he, Lilith and Eve were created without original sin. So it wouldn't make sense for him to be a complete idiot from the beginning.

Here's what I think could be a possibility on what happened (after all we don't know how biased Lilith's book is):

First he and Lilith are created

Maybe he didn't really boss her around and it was more like a situation of a sibling telling the other sibling what to do (I know they where married but it's the only example I could think of)

"Just because you're older doesn't mean you can tell me what to do" kinda way (since Adam probably was made first)

But it was not supposed to be an order from Adam more like a suggestion

So Lilith walks of and meets Lucifer

Heaven realises Lilith won't work as a wife and they create Eve from Adam

Eve is a lot more naive than Lilith

Adam is explicitly told to look after her and make sure she is alright

He does just that and they both are happy together

Lucifer and Lilith create the fruit

And in a rare moment where Eve isn't with Adam she finds the tree

Eve eats the fruit

She gives it to Adam

He eats it too because he loves Eve and doesn't want her to endure the punishment alone

Everything goes downhill from here

I believe they were not really capable of feeling negative emotions before they ate the fruit

Eve being the first to eat it develops a lot of doubts towards Adam

Why wasn't he looking after me? That's what he was supposed to do now we are stuck in a world filled with danger and death

Adam ,who before the fruit didn't care about Lilith leaving him, was now starting to yearn for the woman he never had. She was supposed to be his and now she is with the most hated being of all creation.

They never really expressed the thoughts they had after eating the fruit with eachother

Resentment started building up without them really noticing

They still held love for eachother and tried to survive in a world full of danger

It went alright in the beginning

They had two kids

Everything seemed to look up

But of course Cane kills Abel

And that was the last nail in the coffin

Adam and Eve could not cope with the loss of both their sons (let's pretend Seth never becomes a person in this story)

They still tried to stay together

But the resentment grows bigger

Love turns into hate and a lot of hurtful things are said between them

They separate and go there different ways

And lets pretend Eve really did have something with Lucifer

As soon as Adam hears about that his hate for Lucifer and Eve just grows bigger

What is wrong with these women? What is it about this Lucifer?

He develops a lot of doubts about himself in his living life. Which causes him to develop the fear of being left by anyone who he lets into his life.

After he died he hears all about how great he is being the first man and all

And over the years he starts believing that he can do no wrong and it was only his wife's and Lucifers fault that everything went to shit

And even though deep down he wants a meaningful relationship he opted to just go for hook ups in fear of losing someone again

And after a few thousand years those things develop into the kind of person we see in the show

But this is just one possibility

I hope it is understandable what I'm trying to convey

Please share your thoughts with me.

What do you think happened all these years ago?

[callmejod]

Yey! I love him so much but there is so little for him! Could you do a headcanon for him falling in love again (reciprocated) post potc please- if we pretend he didn't die. Pretty please.

Hohohohohohohoho this was also on my mind for a few weeks

Had to mill it over the last few days, sorry for not responding. I also wrote this for an entire day so I hope you like it.

Kinda oc reader, foreign!reader, James being down bad for the reader , reader being too good to be true

This got really long so bare with me

I don't know if I'm even able to write short fics

So the jist is :

If he didn't die and came back to Port Royal as Admiral Norrgington - he would be happy he got his career, his honor and his purpose back.

Living on the sea has changed him. He no longer could stand this uptight, fake world that Port Royal thrives in. The cravats, the paperwork, the wigs. Fuck, he couldn't breathe most of the time, always sweaty in the thousand-layer suits, head itching from both the powder and the weigt of his hats. Having to sit through those god awful formal dinners, balls that bring nothing but superficial gossip was nothing but pure torture. Don't get me wrong - he's grateful for being able to even attend them, but the honest, freeing way of pirate life has broken him out of the cage of chaperoned conversations with ladies and standoffish men making fools out of themselves. He remembers the joyous dancing, full of fluidity and life, now having to endure stiff, distant and "civilised" english dancing.

One day, while having a conversation with one of the Ports ministers he hears about a merchant who's come from afar. He knows of your stay at Jamaica. He had a few documents regarding your long stay brought to his office to sign. Your ship suffered damage in a run-in with pirates and had a lot of repairs to do. A gorgeous vessel. He wonders if the captain is as handsome as their ship. Hopes he gets to meet you before you leave. You only arrived four days ago, and already the talk of the ton. Impressive.

The men described you as lively, wild as a tropical storm. The ministers complained about your accent, your way of dressing, your carefreeness, anything they can put a pin in, they do. James feels quite uncomfortable listening to the convesation not being able to put in anything. He then sets his mind to finding out who you are - he has grown out of judging a person by word from another mouth.

That encounter came earlier than he expected. And to be frank - saved him from a horrible stack of particularily boring paperwork. Having you barge in full-force into his office steaming mad, followed by two petrified soldiers was not something on his agenda. He noticed the few things the ministers mentioned - clothes of unusual cut and style, quite tasteful if his opinion was concerned, hair and hairstyle so different from locals that there was no mistaking you. You were the eccentric foreigner. But fawning over your beauty was for another time - now he had an angry merchant going off about something he both didn't listen to for a while and frankly, couldn't really understand due to your speed of speech.

'S-sorry could you slow down a second. I'm afraid I'm loosing some of what you're saying."

'Sir they need to make an appoin-'

'It's fine gentlemen, this must be urgent if I am needed. Please, let us speak in private.'

After the guards step out, he offers you to sit and something to drink.

'I have no need for no courtesy Admiral. I need a problem fixed. You can skip this stupid charade.'

'Oh, then it is more serious than I've thought. What is the problem?'

'Those - those'

You wave your hand in the air to make him help you find a word.

'Minosters of yours'

'Ministers?'

'Yes! Those idiots. They won't let me handle my own ship the way it needs to be. It needs to be seen by - argh!'

Your frustration runs high. He smiles.

'There's no need to stress. You mean carpenters? Is there a problem with the wood of your ship?'

'Are those who work with wood?'

'Yes, so you need to hire carpenters and the dock officials won't let you? That is strange. You have registered your stay and gave us all the documents we need.'

'But they don't!!'

You grab his forearm and try dragging him out of the office. He slows you down and explains that he will talk to them, just let him take a few things. You scoff and cross your arms.

'You English and your weird rules. Wasting time and not helping.'

He couldn't agree with you more. He smiles and starts walking out. When you two make your way to the port, he has difficulty keeping his pace with you - passersby stare at you storming off to port with their Admiral desperately trying to keep up with you. You sometimes mumble curses in languages he does not ever try to understand, but you two make your way faster than he realised was possible.

There you stomp to an official, who not seeing James trailing behond you shouts:

'Ow piss of ya cunt! I won't let you disgrace our carpenters by working on a ship that carries your kind!'

James is stunned you don't rip his head off when he sees your fists clench by your sides. Anger nips at his mind, how dare he treat you like this?! When slows his pace and asks in a flat voice:

'What do you mean "their kind"? Is that how my officials treat esteemed, foreign guests? And how dare you use such language to a person that was only looking for your help.'

The man's face whites and he starts to stutter an apology, but James stops it and sends him to get carpenters. Admiral's orders. When the official slips away to fill his duty, James turns to you and starts profusely apologising for the incompetence of his subordinates.

He's horrified when you inform him, that this is not the first - ha!, only time of being mistreated because of your looks or manner of speech. Anger boils in him when he hears that not only you, but majority of your crew had to endure this for a while now, accomodation denied not by matter of the lack of, but prejudice. Before he even thinks, he immedeately offers you a place in his home - something that brings surprise to you both. He cannot stand the thought you had to sleep on your ship when there was far grater comforts available.

He flushes red and again apologises for being inappropraite, but gets cut off by your boisterous laughter. The sound hypnotises him, seeing you smile for the first time makes his heart bang on his ribs. You laugh so hard tears come to you eyes and a shortness of breath. He cares not that many are looking at you two or the impropriatey of the situation. Time freezes for him. There's only you and him.

'Oh admiral, you are funny. I cannot leave my men to sleep on the ship when I am given all comforts of life.'

James flushes again and meekly asks:

'Then would you accept a simple dinner as an apology for your mistreatement?'

He almost doubles over when you beam at him and accept. The way you look at him so amused - he would make the biggest fool out of himself just to keep that look in your eyes. You set a date for a few weeks later and James makes sure that your your crew is not being mistreated anymore than they already have. Of course, Gilette and Groves relentlessly teased him for his obvious affection towards you. They weren't surprised though, it was hard not to even tolerate you.

Over those few weeks he started to watch you closely. Both of you were invited for a few balls, and the conversations you two had were the most fulfilling he had in a long long time. Your knowledge of the sea, of literature, politics and history had impressed him and added a new dimention to your person - not only beautiful, but wise.

He saw you many times playing with children on the street, helping people in need, play-fighting with young boys, showing them your battle scars and sometimes even your handpistol or sword.

You brought an air of freshness to the stuffy, ever "proper" society of Port Royal. You smiled often, you were polite to those who deserved it, made an effort to not be a bother. Yet, you never hesitated to get you crew in line when they were causing a ruckus.

Your manner of speech was charming, that certain twang to english and he would be a liar if he denied finding your way of trying to remember words or coming up with new ones when you couldn't was not adorable. Talking with using your hands was also a thing he found endearing. He would deny it to his grave in front of you, die of embarrasment if you knew. He heard that you got into a heated conversation with your first officer, and while talking with using your hands smacked a passing lady in the face. Apologised a lot and brought her an apology gift in form of a few yards of stunning blue silk. The dress she had comissioned to be made of it was breathtaking. But nothing could ever compare to your beauty.

All this was just pulling him into your direction. And when the awaited evening came, James was so nervous about everithing being perfect. You were perfect so your expectations were not to be let down. But, you being you, as if feeling his nervousness arrived early and instead of courtsies and stiff welcomes hugged him like a family member long missed.

As the dinner went on, your conversation flowed over many topics, never ending, never boring. You moved to the sitting room, where to James' torture you sprawled yourself over a love seat and rested. He sat, watching you strech like cat, admiring you quietly. You made eye contact with him and asked :

'James, would you like me to court you?'

He choked on his spit. In a coughing attack, he flushed so red, you jumped to your feet and held his shoulder to try and help. After a while of hacking and a visit from a concerned maid, he stopped and looked at you, not knowing what to say. He saw the unceirtainty in your eyes, even hurt.

'Do you not wish me to court you, James?'

His eyes widened. After years of endlessly chasing Elizabeth's affection, you being so open about it shocked him. He knew he harboured feelings for you but never imagined that feeling would be reciprocated. He took your hands and squeezed them.

'I was just cuaght off guard, dear don't worry. It's standard for men here to ask someone to court.'

'So I'm supposed to wait forever? You have been open with your feelings, but I am an impatient person James. I do not make games.'

'Play games?'

'Is that how you say it?"

James chuckled an held a hand to your face. That prompted you to surge forward and kiss him. For a second, he froze in surprise but leaned into you, sighing into the kiss. You threw your arms over his shoulders and he moaned.

That made you break apart from him and look into the sea green of his eyes. Your warm breath fanned his face, heating it impossibly more. You seemed lost in them and made him nervous that he did something wrong. Seeing his concern, you locked your lips again in a gentle kiss. God, he never wanted it to end. He smiled into the kiss, making you giggle. You two broke apart and looked at each other.

James then spoke :

'I would very much like you to court me, if you let me do the same.'

'Finally making some sense, James.'

[guillotinesandroses]

Washed Ashore; Chapter 10 - Circus Freaks

Platonic Sonic Boom x Ex-Villain!Reader.

Washed Ashore Masterlist

Amy and Knuckles argue as they up to a robot crashing in through a mountain. Eggman has made yet another pointless attack, introducing a new pal of his, Octopusbot. Sonic runs around and confuses it, Amy bashes a tentacle off of it and Sticks jumps on top of the machine, making it stab itself in the head. 

"Sorry, I can't hear you!" Sonic responds to one of Eggman's complaints with a grin. "Too busy running circles around your Squidbot!" 

"It's not a squid, it's an octopus! Can't you tell by the size of the tentacles in relation to the head?" 

Sonic turns to you, and you shrug. "Don't look at me, I'm not a marine biologist." 

Tails sends forth a message to inform he is going to use his new invention. Sonic tries to ask if Tails has even tested it yet, but too late. It fires but the laser misses, bounces around and causes a landslide. Chaos ensues as you suddenly need to turn your attention from the villain to slicing the boulders rushing your way, one sword knocked out of your grasp. Sticks barely evades the downfall with her acrobatic skills while Amy and Knuckles are forced to focus on crushing the boulders as well. 

Sonic is the only one fast enough to bypass the dirt and rip some wires off. The robot shuts down, leaking oil like a squid would ink. Sticks and Amy, standing right next to it, grimace and you groan in despair. Lifting your blade up, you try to wipe the oil off before it leaves a stupid stain. Tails marches up with an apologetic frown. 

"Guys, I don't know what happened!" 

"I'll tell you what happened; your lazer almost turned us into robo-fish food!" Amy exclaims. 

"Yeah, and not the delicious flaky kind!" Knuckles crosses his arms. 

You lift your gaze from your oil-soaked blade. "Guys, it's not that big of a-" 

"I'm sorry, it malfunctioned!" 

"Maybe it didn't malfunction! Maybe this isn't even Tails! What if he's one of those sleeper agents, a mole pretending to be a fox- a fox mole!" Sticks jumps up to grab at his face, presumably to pull off his supposed mask. 

"Ow! Quit it!" 

"It just needs a bit of tuning, no need to be so harsh," you comment, deciding to ignore Sticks' paranoid accusations. 

"Hey, leave him alone!" 

"No, Sonic, they're right." Tails frowns. 

"Are they?" You raise an eyebrow. 

"Well, except for Sticks and that whole fox-mole thing. I put all of you in danger. I need to go." Tails rushes off on his airplane and does not answer Sonic's calls. 

"Hey, guys, go easy on Tails. So he made a mistake, I mean, haven't you ever-" The hedgehog gets cut off by the screeching of tires.

All attention turns to the long, purple vehicle and the guy stepping out of it. "Ooh, sorry if I scared you folks! Please, accept my most humble apologies!" 

"You almost made us roadkill, pal!" 

"A thousand pardons! Allow me to introduce myself; T.W Barker, entrepreneur, owner and ringmaster of T.W Barker's circus of wonders!" 

"Why does that sound familiar..?" Your eyes narrow. 

He chuckles. "Well, I am quite famous!" 

"A circus, huh? Like, with clowns?" Knuckles asks. 

"And elephants?" Amy exhales in wonder. 

"And art made from cornhusks?" Sticks grins before you turn to her and she deflates. "I have no idea what a circus is." 

"Alas, I have none of those. You see, my performers ate some bad sushi in the last town and have fallen gravely ill. All I have is my stunt bears." 

"So, how will you put on a show?" 

"I won't be able to! The children will be ever so disappointed." 

"Not the children!" Amy gasps. 

"Yes, the children. If only I could find some kindhearted souls to help me keep the magic of the circus alive!" 

"Mr. Barker, you're in luck, we'd be proud to volunteer in your circus!" Amy declares. Knuckles and Sticks nod in agreement, surprisingly enough. 

"Mhm, I'm so glad we're a hivemind," you mumble, "don't think I've forgotten about those trapeze stunts you made me do, Amy." 

"Yeah, speak for yourself, Amy! What makes you think I want to perform like some kind of trained animal?" Sonic crosses his arms, then turns to the roller-skating bears. "No offense." 

"Yes, yes, I understand. The training is quite rigorous, it's okay if you're not capable." 

"That'll do it," you mutter. 

"Capable is my middle name." Sonic dashes around the director. "Look, I just hope your circus can keep up with me. I'm in!" 

The others turn to you expectantly. You sigh and suppose one time would not be so bad. "Alright... on the condition I don't have to touch a single trapeze again." 

"Wonderful!" Having gained the approval of the last recruit, he raises the circus tent up. "I'm delighted to have all of you!" 

Sonic calls Tails but gets no answer, so you move on to getting your roles assigned. Sonic gets a running cage and Knuckles is the guy getting launched from a cannon. 

"You are skilled in swordsmanship, yes?" The director turns to you. 

"Obviously." 

"Wonderful! I trust that you will amaze the audience with tricks never seen before." 

"Naturally." 

Amy lists out all of the cool things she could be. The director, however, places a pathetic hat over her head. "You'll be a sad clown." 

"...Unreasonably." 

"A sad clown?! I see what's going on here. You're giving me the lame job because I'm a girl!" 

"I'm ready for my trapeze act, boss!" Sticks flies in. Amy groans in disappointment. 

As everyone gets ready for the show, Amy finds herself away from the stage. She can barely bring herself to focus on learning the art of juggling, trying to keep her mind on how happy her performance will make the children. You approach her in her solitude, sitting down nearby and striking up a conversation. 

"My talents are going unappreciated again." She sighs. "I offer my help and ask for nothing in return, and this is the thanks I get?" 

"He probably gave you that role because you're the only one who'd agree to it," you point out. 

"But it's so unfair! Why do I get punished for being kind and understanding?" 

You fall silent for a moment, then shift your gaze elsewhere, voice quiet. "...That's how the world works, I'm afraid." 

"It really shouldn't." She crosses her arms, leaning against the railing. You hum in agreement. A minute passes with no words, until an idea strikes you. An idea you usually would never even entertain. 

"...Yeah, but hey, what if wore the clown make-up with you?" 

"Huh? Really?" She blinks, snapping out of her sulking. 

"We could match!" You offer in a sing-song voice, giving a lazy grin. 

Amy jumps at you, crushing you in a hug. "That would be amazing! Gosh, I've been trying to convince you into matching with me for so long, this is-" 

She continues to ramble on until showtime, spirits lifted. Yeah, you are not the biggest fan of silly things like this, but it would be unfair if Amy was the only one having a bad time at the circus. So, you gave in and allowed her to dress you up. This show is a one time thing anyway, so you may as well be a little goofy going about it. 

The show begins soon enough and everyone performs their roles perfectly. Sonic's speed amazes the audience, they laugh at Amy's juggling and Knuckles' cannonball number entertains them. Gasps echo from the watchers and Sticks swings through the air without fear. All eyes lock onto you as they stare with bated breath as you skillfully manage and swing several blades, each movement carefully coordinated. By the time the performances end, the audience is left awestruck as they depart. 

"Great job, everybody!" Amy grins. 

"That was a blast! We should do it again sometime!" Sonic exclaims. 

"Yes, you should... and you will." 

You tense up at the shift in tone but not fast enough. Ropes shoot out from one of the cannon and trap you. Sonic gets locked up in his sphere right after. "Hey, what's the big idea?!" 

"Well, you see, my performers aren't exactly sick, they escaped. When I heard about your crew, I set up this brilliant trap, and you marks walked right into it!" 

"That's where you were familiar from." You scowl, rolling your eyes in embarrassment. "Should've paid more attention to the catalog of low-ranked villains." 

He ignores your taunt and focuses on the others. You squirm and try to summon your swords but to no avail. He thought this through, the material being a magic suppressing kind. The rest of your friends are caught one by one as well. Like any reasonable villain, he explains his plan and reveals where he got Sonic's cage from. 

"Of course," you mutter. Naturally, Eggman would figure out a way to annoy your friends without even being present at all. 

A league of Eggman's robots roll in. They are of no concern to you, you are only frustrated that you slipped up this badly. As you try to figure a way out of your bindings, Tails flies in. His perfected laser fires, melting all of your problems. No longer bound by magic suppressors, you call forward your blades. 

The director notices the situation, calling forth the robots. You slash them while Amy swings her hammer. Knuckles punches them to bits and Sticks flips her way around them, Sonic running through the metal. Tails shoots the laser at them and informs Sonic of the director's whereabouts. In the end, Sonic catches up and traps the wolf in the sphere that was meant to be his prison originally. 

"Let me out of this infernal cage! I'm an entrepreneur!" 

"No one cares!" You shout back to him. 

"That was some sweet flying, buddy!" Sonic grins as Tails lands. 

"Yeah, you did good!" Knuckles pats him on the back, almost knocking him over. 

"Knew you could do it." You unsummon your swords. 

"Sorry for saying you were a double agent. I didn't realize you were a... triple agent!" 

"Yeah, thanks, Tails!" Amy smiles. 

"I'm just happy I could help. Now, let's get out of here!" And so all of you walk home, leaving the horrible director screaming for help. 

[nexomy]

I wrote this a while ago but didn't know if it was worth posting. Found it in my notes and it made me feel sick. We'll see. Johnlock angst, trigger warning for death.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

"It's alright! I can fix this, I will fix this, just, give me a second, I need to...."

"Sherlock..."

"SHUT UP! I just need to go to my mind palace, just shut up..."

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

"Sherlock..."

"JOHN! What don't you get in 'shut up'?! Stop distracting me!"

"Sherlock!"

"I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME!"

"... There is no more time. We're done."

Sherlock looks around, and his shoulders drop, letting the weight of the world slide off.

"No... I can still... I can..."

"Even if you found the code now, we can't access the panel anymore. It's over, Sherlock. The game is over."

John puts a hand on Sherlock, and he's not mad. He smiles at him. After the worst mistake of his life, Sherlock gets a smile as punishment.

"John... I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You never apologize. Why start now?"

"Because! Usually..."

He sighs, and lets himself fall to the floor. Rock bottoms are comfortable to him. Familiar.

"... Usually, the mistake isn't so bad, or, I have time to... Fix it..."

"Maybe. But not always."

"What?"

"Not always, Sherlock!"

John laughs. It's the best sound Sherlock has ever heard, when knowing he's about to die.

"Sometimes, you say something, or do something, to our clients, and you just... You never apologize. And you never fix it. You never see those people again."

"Doesn't matter."

"What? Your mistake?"

"No. Them. Besides, one would argue that by fixing whatever problem they came to me for, I fixed my own blunder times a thousand."

Sherlock knows John. He knows John wants to say something to that.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

He knows John won't waste their time bickering. 

John laughs.

"Alright, Sherlock."

They sigh, and there's silence, as they sit next to each other, waiting for the room to swallow them whole. They're going to be crushed. Mashed into each other. Their bodies, if they're ever found, are going to be indistinguishable, a gruesome mix of blood and gore. Inextricable. Sherlock finds the thought oddly comforting.

"I love you."

Sherlock didn't expect John to waste their time lying.

"What?"

"I love you, Sherlock. I have, for a while. Maybe since the start."

He shrugs, with a casualness that's heartbreaking, in context.

"Since we're gonna die, I just thought I'd let you know. You don't have to say anything, I know you don't..."

John looks at him, and even now, there's hope in his eyes. Sherlock isn't about to waste this. What use are masks when the mascarade is over?

"I love you too."

"No, I mean..."

"I know how you mean. And I love you too."

There's a silence, as they both stare each other down.

May the stages of grief begin.

-----

Denial.

"Wh-what? No!..."

"Yes, John."

"No! No you don't... You don't love me! I mean... M-maybe you do, but you're not... In love with me! Sherlock!"

Sherlock sighs. Weary.

"I am, John. I tried hard not to be. To pretend otherwise. But I am."

"But... But..."

John looks angry. Perhaps he will waste their time with bickering after all.

----

Anger.

"But why!"

He finally explodes. Sherlock is confused.

"Why what?"

"Why... Why... Why didn't you say anything!"

"Why didn't you?" 

Sherlock's counter accusation is enough to catch John off guard. 

"I... Because, I..."

"Because you were scared."

Sherlock's tone is cold, implacable truth.

"I was."

"And so was I."

"And so were you."

Silence. No, not silence. Tick, tick, tick, tick.

"... We're really two idiots, aren't we?"

Sherlock laughs, because it's true. They are. And he'd rather hear John laugh than cry.

----

Bargaining.

"Well, then."

John gets up. Slaps his knee. It's about to be too small in here to do either of those things. He looks at Sherlock, beckons him with a nod. Sherlock hesitates and gets up. John pulls him closer, and Sherlock swears that this will be enough to make time stop, to delay the inevitable.

John kisses him.

Sherlock eventually backs away, stunned.

"What? What's got you so wide eyed?"

"I... You... Kissed me."

"Yes, I did."

John smiles. He kisses Sherlock's hand.

"It's my last chance to. I'll take as many seconds as I can get."

Sherlock breathes again. He shakes his head.

"We... We have to get out of here."

"Sherlock..."

John watches, as Sherlock paces along the narrow corridor, trying to get his thoughts in order.

"We have to get out of here, John. I have to figure this out."

"Sherlock... Sherlock!"

This time, John isn't as patient. He pulls Sherlock by the wrist, and kisses him again. Puts a hand on his cheek. Looks at him, sorrowful.

"It's over, okay? It's over. Let's just... Make use of the time we still have."

"But... If we get out of here, I... I could..."

"I know. I know what we could be. Could have been. But it's too late for that. Let's just... Take what we can, while we can."

He pulls him closer. Sherlock feels himself die in that moment, even if the walls haven't crushed them yet.

-----

Depression.

Sherlock falls into John's embrace, and the men are too close to pretend the other isn't crying. Their tears mix on their cheeks, and Sherlock feels John's leg trembling against his. He's scared.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I am, John. For everything. For not getting us out, for bringing you here, for never saying anything earlier..."

"Don't apologize, it isn't like you."

He kisses his neck as he says this.

"And I love you."

Sherlock wants to cry so badly. But it isn't like him. And John loves him. He'll give John as much of what he loves as he can.

-----

Acceptance.

"There isn't enough time."

"Even for a quick one?"

The two men laugh at the whispered joke from Sherlock. The detective knows it's unlike him, but by God, is John's laugh addicting. And caving to addiction is very much like him. 

"Sherlock..."

Their bodies are pressed against each other now, and it's pleasant, not that they have a choice. Sherlock felt the breath John took to say the word against his own ribs.

"Get your hands off of me!"

"Well, it's not like there's ample room to move about, John."

"Sod off, you know what I meant."

Oh, he knows. But he won't die without feeling John's package, not when he has the option to do so. It's not so much that the context is conductive to that sort of mood, or even that this half-measure press over the jeans is anywhere close to what Sherlock really wants, really craves, but the little endorphins he gets from it help. You know, with acceptance. Of what's to come.

There's a moment of silence, as they gently kiss each other, as John ravages Sherlock's neck, as Sherlock tries not to be bitter, or think of what ifs. It's harder than it looks.

"John..."

He hasn't said that name enough in his life. He could've lived forever and still wouldn't have said it enough, really.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

There it is. There's little room to breathe now, let alone speak. Those are his last words, Sherlock knows it. Not that anyone is here to record them. Well, John has always been the only ear that's mattered, anyways. He'd be lost without his blogger.

The Great Sherlock Holmes, about to draw his final breath. A mind so incredible, few even believed in it. But John did. John always did, no matter what. What words will best undo his time on Earth, unravel all that he is and bring to it a satisfying conclusion? What would be enough to summarize him?

Sherlock takes a deep breath, for the last time.

"I love you, John."

So pathetically cliché.

"I know, Sherlock. I could read it in your eyes, in your every word and silence. In your everything. My everything. My amazing."

And how fitting, that the writer's last whisper is so much more eloquent than snotty Holmes could ever hope to be. So much more fulfilling. Sherlock sighs and holds him, and he hopes John knows that Sherlock could read it, as well. In every line of his blog. John's love for Sherlock was so engrossing, the world even fell for it, even started to love Sherlock as well. Every flutter of every heart, every smile on every face caused by Sherlock Holmes' great mind, really was caused by John Watson's greater heart. And Sherlock hopes John knows, no, knows John knows, because he's John, and John knows everything that matters, always has, even when Sherlock was blind.

And their bones start to crack. And it's starting to hurt.

And the detective hopes that his last thought is John's name, because nothing else in that brain of his matters now. Nothing else. That's the flaw of genius, it needs an audience.

The genius holds his audience captive, not with words, but loving arms.

And the soldier holds his allegiance back, with the strength and fervor of a fighter, and the tenderness and care of a healer.

And why would you want to read what happens next?

[astorythatwritesitself]

Six Song Soundtrack

Thanks for the tag @omniblades-and-stars !

Rules: If you're tagged, make a post with links to music and/or lyrics describing six things/events about your OC/story!

Tagging: @spookyvalentine , @pastlight , @schmendrickmagician !

Anyway everything else is in enough development hell so. Shepard Be Upon Ye Again

Event that defines your character's past:

That's all that Akuze came down to, in the end. A brief, simple mistake that could have happened to anyone, that happens a thousand times with no consequence.

Would the unit have survived, if Adrian hadn't dozed off during her watch? Would she have noticed any signs, gotten a distress call out any sooner - and if so, would that time make any difference, against how long it took any message to get through, from such a remote world?

It doesn't matter how many times she asks them, in her dreams. If those who died under her command have any answers, they aren't sharing.

My old friend I swear I never meant for this I never meant - Don't look at me that way It was an honest mistake Don't look at me that way It was an honest mistake A honest -

How your character sees themselves:

All Adrian really can see in herself, at least for a very long time, is... pieces. Hopes and dreams that others have placed on her, things she was meant to do, things she wanted to do, but all in scattered fragments that never quite mesh together. (And in canon, they never do, really.)

Say you were split, you were split in fragments And none of the pieces would talk to you Wouldn't you want to be who you had been Well baby, I want that too So better take the keys and drive forever Staying won't put these futures back together All the perfect drugs and superheros Wouldn't be enough to bring me up to zero Baby, you're great, You've been more than patient Saying it's not a catastrophe But I'm not the girl you once put your faith in Just someone who looks like me So better take the keys and drive forever Staying won't put these futures back together All the perfect drugs and superheros Wouldn't be enough to bring me up to zero So get out while you can Get out while you can Baby I'm pouring quick sand And sinking is all I have planned So better just go

Their closest relationships (romantic and platonic):

Romance was never a factor in Adrian's thoughts on the future, even when she thought she had a future. When she's recruiting for an explicit suicide mission, and the recruit informs her that he doesn't have long to live anyway?

There's no trying to pretend, with Thane. Here's someone who doesn't need false optimism or for her to put on a brave face, someone who's tried and failed and is just trying to do some good, someone who understands the sense of living only to be of service to others. It's almost funny, how it happens, how that shared sense of sorrow and doom turns into one of the greatest joys in Shepard's life - but she never regrets it, no matter how it turns out.

I knew that look dear Eyes always seeking Was there in someone That dug long ago So I will not ask you Why you were creeping In some sad way I already know I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you and neither would you

Honestly there's a few good answers for the platonic relationships - but for ones I've actually got a good song for, we're going with Tali!

Tali's... honestly, I think Tali kind of reminds Adrian a little of her younger self, or kind of a younger sister she never had. Aside from their being able to bond over fiddling with tech, Tali's just - she's sweet! She's fun and optimistic - but not blindly so, she's been through enough shit that it's a very deliberate optimism, and Adrian wants so badly to see her succeed.

There's one girl I like, she's a smile on a Monday And she'll fight to stay so And she's like the sun on the weekend And though she is like the sea And it's right she'd be so I like she sails with me

A major fight scene:

The Battle of London/The Crucible, tbh. Whether in canon or the AU I'm cooking up, there's that sense of... no matter what, it's going to be strange. It's going to be painful, and whatever the outcome - things are going to change.

If we live We live by Chewing through our leg And fleeing from the trap Only with new eyes Will we Slip through the lines If we live, we live as fire

End credits song:

👀 Well - choose your ending.

CANON -

Her choices are made - they're all awful, so she chooses the one that (hopefully - she doesn't truly trust this construct, but she's bleeding out and this is the end, no matter what) seems as if it will lead to the least amount of loss. But, whatever happens - there is a relief, as she gives herself to that strange energy pouring up from the Crucible. She has done all she can, and perhaps rather selfishly... all she thinks of, in those last moments? All that comes to mind is the sea, whether she's drifting forever in the blue like the first time she died, or if perhaps this time, there will be a shore - or even if there's nothing but the cold and dark, at least, it's finally over.

You're free A lover sinking in the sea And we Will let the water fill our lungs And sleep Love, we go down, we go down Breathe, it's over now, over now We can love, we can love We can love, we can love And the birds will sing our song in Halcyon

AU -

Well, all Adrian ever wanted to do in the Alliance was fiddle with computers and tech. And in this end... in this end there's a little less resignation, a little more hope, more belief in taking a wild chance - after all, what do they have to lose? A few more lives saved. A little less injury, so rather than accept the proposed choices, Shepard is lucid enough to propose another line of thought - the Crucible, the Starchild, either they're all tech that can be repogrammed... or, this being is its own entity, and capable of making choices beyond the groundwork its creators laid out. Wouldn't it be interesting, to see what happens next to the cycle that's gotten this far?

[And here we fade out]

Can I take you to a moment Where the fields are painted gold And the trees are filled with memories Of the feelings never told? When the evening pulls the sun down, And the day is almost through, Oh, the whole world it is sleeping, But my world is you.

It wouldn't be ME3 without the post-credits scene lol.

It's not quite a desert, but certainly somewhere arid - but there's lights visible in the distance, shapes suggesting a small town on some colony world. Not utterly remote and removed from the galaxy at large, but certainly a little more... distant. A quiet place, even quieter up on this ridge that overlooks it. There's hardly any sound but the wind rippling through the sparse, tall grasses; the slight shift of gravel and dirt and an occasional, dull metallic thud. We see a human haul themself up those last couple of steps, bracing first against a cane, then against their drell companion as they find somewhere to sit together, watching as sunset steals over the town, and the first twilight stars appear on the horizon.

Blank meme under the cut!

Event that defines your character's past:

How your character sees themselves:

Their closest relationships (romantic and platonic):

A major fight scene:

End credits song:

[dullestofcrayons]

Loop & Siffrin x Autoheart Songs

VERY NOT SPOILER FREE

I have been sitting on this for months and it's finally ready to be released to the wild. I have found that Autoheart perfectly captures Loop and Siffrin from in Stars and Time and have compiled 18 such songs for your consideration.

I have copied lyrics and added some notes for the ones that fit best and made a lightning round at the end with just a couple notes for each song for the sake of length.

Here is the accompanying Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0NsVZ5zMOflD2AHkpwuqvX?si=JAhuPG8TSGWi8rCHqOYlWg

Into the Woods

Little living thing, slowly flickering

Whirling in the camera

Perfecting my face

I'm in my happy place

I'm in awe of me, captured candidly

Keeping up with everyone

When I act this way

I'm like a bird of prey

Loop becomes a star and pretends to be fine with it. They watch themselves from an outside perspective.

Live my life online, spend most of my time

With my hand upon my chest

Something something dissociation and breathing

With insight I'll rewrite

My history to make it right

I'm hopeful, I'm certain

I won't be always hurting

For that one we switch to act I Siffrin's pov

I feel fine

I feel fine, I feel fine

I feel fine, I feel fine

I feel fine, I feel fine

They're fine.

Factories:

Fix my head it's pouring at the seams

All the voices scream to a crescendo

In the garden by the sycamore

Lies a thousand horrifying memories

I feel the unbearable weight

I sense the ripping of my shame

I hear the sigh of indifference

I am bride and groom in a darkened room

Marrying anguish with one last wish

Will you and I make a breakthrough?

Loop makes a wish and and now there are two of them and now they're in an even worse hell but maybe they can get further?

The end of the song asks "do you remember" over and over which is great

Too Polite To Fight:

And the way I'm acting now

Is derivative and foul

And I'm starting to annoy myself

You see I'm half the man I used to be back then

Loop lol

I didn't want to leave you

I didn't want to go but

I didn't have the power to hold on

A mystery surrounds it

Everything around it

I was too polite to fight for you

Could be Loop giving up and abandoning their friends and life OR could be about the Island

Did you lie, did you lie

Die you lie beneath the stars

When you fell from my arms

Stars mention

Better Version of Me:

(I mean the name alone...)

I got a feeling that I'm losing my mind

Cannot deny this is a difficult time

And yet I'm telling everybody I love that I'm fine

I have to pull myself together again

Give something back to all my family and friends

It's such a pressure on my temporal lobe

But I still have hope

Act 4 siffrin trudging allong. The last 2 lines could be about saying The Name

I want to be a better version of me

I have a vision that one day I'll be free

I'm gonna prove that I'm not already gone

I'm not delirious

I want to be a better version of me

I have a vision that one day you'll be proud

Instead of saving me from every mistake

I'm deadly serious

This chorus would be good for an Isabeau loops au

Robbing banks:

I dress down To feel inferior to you

I am not a monument to what I used to be A former warrior

Both very loop. They're separate lines but this is already so long lol

I have robbed a million banks

I have killed a thousand flies

With all this history in my catalogue

I've secrets deep inside

There's no end to all this daylight

There is no sign of the night

All I have to do is suffer

'Cause I can't put up a fight

Going through everything over and over and over

If all I have is gone

Then all I knew was wrong

Loop losing their party only for Siffrin to get out with theirs

Curtain call, watch me crawl

Must be malleable

Cut and twist

Bend and break

All I have at stake

Lies with you in your hands

I can a see a clenched fist

Form and aim at me

Siffrin breakdown and two hats ending

Stalkers Tango

It's not that complicated

No matter what they say

You'll never meet another me

It's not that difficult

To get your head around

You'll never meet another me

You'll never, never, ever, never, ever meet another me

Loop angsting about Siffrin or Siffrin in denial abt Loop

I know, I know, I know, I'm always in your place

But don't you see, my dear?

I am your doppelganger

I have your face so

Could be siffrin being in Loop's place in the narrative but the "my dear" is so Loop that it feels better if it meant more like "I'm always in year head"

Love me, love me, love me, love me

Love me, love me, love me, love me

Love me, love me, love me, love me more

Than you possibly can

Yeah. Isat

Control

I am hot, I am soaking, I am feverish

As I lay in this cheap hotel room

And I haven't a clue as to where I will go

But I know it'll not be with you

Postcannon Sif who is still sick but left Dormont lamenting about Loop

We could have made it in a different world for different eyes And nominate each other not to carry on with the lies We could have made it but we didn't have the stamina We both lost out in the end

They couldn't keep it going. Something had to break.

In the puddles by the graveyard

Lay confetti rise

It's hearty as an evergreen

It serves to punish me

This part is slowed down and switched to Loop pov lamenting about the favor tree

Foolishly Wrong

I know that this violence we suffer in silence

Is a result of our counter-productive ways

Your heartache, my headache, is something we can't shake

We're in the red all round

Loop not telling Sif everything is counterproductive. Red.

Is that what you're scared of, ending up on your own? 'Cause if you are, then go ('Cause if you are, then go)

Isat

Our love is bulimic, infected, endemic

And I just don't want that (And I just don't want that)

Disaster awaits us, it threatens to break us

And I believe we're destroying each other

A second opinion from someone else, a million

Will do us no damn good

That's Siffrin and Loop right there

We'd end up alone We'd end up alone We'd end up alone In the end We'd end up alone We'd end up alone We'd end up alone I-in the end! We'd end up alone! We'd end up alone! We'd end up alone! In the end We'd end up alone! We'd end up alone! We'd end up alone

THATS ISAT BABY!

Lightning Round

(+ relevance rankings)

Love is the Cure ☆☆☆☆

An upbeat song about depression. Mentions remembering but not in a super applicable way

If Only In The Night ☆☆☆☆

Yearning for touch. Honestly not much lyric connection but Major Vibes. I feel the isat energy

London in July☆☆☆☆

Describes loop and Sif's relationship as well as Loop's star eating

Sailor Song ☆☆☆☆

A complicated toxic relationship that's not good for you but you don't have it in you to leave. Losing self, memories, hoping for attention

Secret Diary - Demo ☆☆☆

27 y/o taking advantage of their friends. Great in theory but doesn't line up super well.

Lent ☆☆☆

A divorcing couple fighting and making the people around them uncomfortable.

Hungover in the City of Dust ☆☆

The people you know left and you're losing touch with yourself

Rabbit in a Headlight☆☆

Talks about how they used to be happy and how they're feeling disconnected and scared. Too extraverted to work super well

Wretch☆☆☆☆

Depressed person wanting to be saved. Loop if they were sad instead of angry. Siffrin @ his friends.

Time machine ☆

Ironically, this song has basically no connection to isat. It literally says someone should forget them. Siffrin would never. Still, one star for the chorus describing being trapped forever.

[aurea-corde]

I've never seen a single episode of anything related to watcher but I am eating up all this drama. Also sorry to y'all going through this

i appreciate that anon 😭 i've seen several good nuanced takes on the situation thankfully. the company definitely did mess up how it introduced the streaming service to people: they said in the video they were going to paywall all existing and new content and then in the comments and in the variety article pretended like that was never their intent. the variety article reveals that they were in fact initially told watcher was going to delete all existing content. the CEO in particular but in general all the founders said that the amount they are charging is affordable - specifically that anyone could afford it - which no they can't obviously. As they are now finding out the hard way. The CEO Steven also made an instagram post insinuating people who wouldn't subscribe just no longer want to watch them, rather than the reality which is that a massive majority of the audience can't afford to. Because he is the CEO, people are blaming the entire thing on him, but it's also important to remember there are actually three founder-owners with decision-making abilities in the company. Shane and Ryan are adults, and the way people are acting like Steven is some kind of dictator, Ryan just went along with it but Shane is the people's anticapitalist hero who was simply outvoted is not a great look. Especially the posts that refuse to acknowledge even the possibility of racial biases here. Mistakes were made, poc are not immune to criticism, but let's consider why so many feel like Shane was forced into this by the evil Steven (and people in the comments have literally called him evil for this) and either lump Ryan in with him or give Ryan no agency in the situation whatsoever. Steven is the most likely to have made the proposal as the closest thing Watcher has to a business-minded founder, but the other two clearly agreed with him. They could have just decided not to be in the video. I also don't see a world where they contractually obligated themselves to every whim of Steven's like some people are suggesting.

Do I think they're a bit sheltered in their LA life? Yeah, probably. I'm pretty sheltered myself - I live a comfortable middle class life in Australia, have a good job and am studying law. I could definitely afford the subscription. But I don't want to atm, or at least until they respond to the situation. Are they the worst most evil capitalists because they want to charge money for the content they create? No, not inherently. People supported them on Patreon because of course creatives should be paid for their labour, and ideally paid well enough to live comfortably. But the combo of bad business decisions (e.g. hiring too many staff too quickly while also wanting to pay them above a living wage, not advertising the patreon, not utilising revenue streams that aren't a streaming service like youtube memberships, spending what Ryan has said is hundreds of thousands of dollars on a single season of a series they have called Ghost Files) and the fact the CEO is pretty open about his comfortable lifestyle (drives a tesla which btw folks isn't a luxury car it's just a more expensive one, has a $300 matcha machine, has a series based on fine dining vs more affordable restaurants), means people are understandably mad because they are struggling financially and the founders (from what we know) are not - but they're trying to tell people that 6 USD is affordable for everyone.

It's a lot less to do with the fact of them charging for content as much as the way they went about it and in particular how it's been phrased to people has come across really insensitive. There's other logistics with the streaming service itself that were not thought out at all for international viewers, but I won't get into that here. And the pretending they were always going to leave their content up and telling viewers not to spread misinformation is scummy to me - at least acknowledge that was a mistake you made and backtracked on. It's just a mess but I really loved their videos and hope they make Youtube's Greatest Apology Video Ever (unironically) and try to undo some of the damage.

edit: someone in the replies made a great point that teslas could actually be considered a luxury car in some countries outside of the US, and I fully agree that 6 USD is 1) too much for what they offer, esp in this economic climate and 2) wayyyyy too much when converted to other currencies. I've seen other Australians say the conversion is too much for them but I know viewers in other countries say it comes out to literally thousands for them - if they can even access the site at all from their country.

[lulucretias]

closed starter for @netteliax location: the pyramid note: mommy?

Death should have come to her. It would have been what she expected after everything that had happened. After all that had occurred and all that could have been, Lucretia didn't know where to go. She didn't know who to turn to. Every bridge felt like it had been burned and now she had made a choice that she wasn't even sure she should have made. It had felt right at the time though. It had felt right in the grand scheme of things. The druid had been alive for fifteen years and she had been alone for all of them because of the choice she had made before. Because of the choice the Asphodel had made. All of it had been one big mistake and maybe she should've taken it back as soon as it had begun. However, anger had driven her more than anything else.

Those fifteen years alone had given her nothing but time to think of everything that could have gone worse than it had. The gods had left her alone, but she had wished they had taken the hurt away from her. Even with the time reverting, she was still left with an emptiness that felt like it was so deep within herself that she couldn't fill it with anything anyone could give her. That didn't mean she couldn't try though. There had been a voice in the back of her head when she had decided to turn her back on the Asphodel. That one little voice had made that decision for her.

No, Lucretia. You are so much more than what he made you.

And she would be. She had to be. Octavian had made her into someone that hated the world and let anger rule her every choice. It had been like that for thousands of years. Lucretia hadn't needed to know what hell looked like because she had made a hell for her life all on her own. It was those words from Nettelia on that day in Knossos that had sat with her and guided her though. Ever since the Archdruid had said those words, they had played over and over again in her head. It wouldn't go away and she wouldn't pretend that they had no effect on her. She couldn't anymore. And she couldn't let Octavian rule her life anymore. She was better than that. Perhaps it was too late for her to fix anything, but it wasn't too late for her to not be so angry anymore. That first part was for everyone else, but the latter? Well, that was just for her.

That was why she had ended up at the Pyramid. That was why she had called for Nettelia and stood there half a woman and even less of a druid than she ever felt before. Before her aunt could even say anything to her, she spoke. "I made my mistakes. I'm dealing with the consequences of trying to fix those mistakes. I won't tell you that you were right because you know that you were, but I'm sorry I treated you like shit when you just tried to help me. I..." She paused and cleared her throat. "Nobody will feel bad for me. Nobody should. But my soul is weeping and I don't know how to fix it and I need you to help me fix it. I need to fix it."

[mlmxreader]

Show Me Your Loyalty | Bane x GN!reader (18+)

『••✎••』

requested by 🐍 anon

↳ ❝ "Where do your loyalties lie?"

There's a lot you can take but a complication with your past has stirred trouble and you won't have someone question your loyalty. ❞

: ̗̀➛ Bane watches as you deal with a slight problem, and although he never doubts you, the situation does make him want you to show your loyalty.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ strong sexual references, swearing, gore, blood, death

: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Help Ramzi & His Family Get Out Of Gaza

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Bane was lounging on the bed when he noticed you drag in one of his men; he cocked a brow, tilting his head to the side as he watched you throw the poor bastard onto the floor and smash your boot against his teeth.

Bane watched curiously, but made no effort to stop it as he heard the snap and cracking of bones, bits of teeth and jaw flying around until you dragged the wretch over to the slight bump of concrete.

Bane knew exactly what you were thinking, and sat up slightly as he laid his hands on his stomach, and tilted his head; he watched as you set his man's upper jaw on the bump, the mouth open and eyes closed.

You took a step back, and used the entire force of your boot heel to stamp all the way through.

"Do not fucking question me again!" You howled at the others, who were all stood nearby, expressions of both fear and shock plastered across their faces.

When they dispersed upon your order, Bane finally did something about it. "What was all that about?"

"We had a fucking mole," you huffed. "Some cunt who I used to go to school with fucking wormed his way in because I was an idiot and fucking trusted him, and has been tipping the G.C.P.D. off about what we're doing... he asked me, he said: where do your loyalties lie?"

He nodded. "So you made an example of him."

"What else was I gonna do?" You asked, your voice softening the closer that you got, until you were knelt right between his spread legs.

Blood soaked boots kicked off and fallen to the floor.

"You could have told me," he pointed out. "I could have dealt with it."

"It was my fault," you shook your head. "My mistake, my example."

Bane could not help it, a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he leaned back, bringing you with him so that your head was against his chest; the hot air from his mouth filtered through the cold metal of his mask, and made you shiver as it hit you.

"You did well, my love," he told you, his tone even and calm, as if he was merely discussing the weather. "I'm proud of you... but..."

You pushed yourself up slightly, your hands on his chest as you tilted your head to the side and furrowed your brows. "But?"

"Where do your loyalties lie?" He teased, grabbing your hips and pulling you up onto his lap as he purposefully pushed his hips slightly. "Do you care to show me?"

You grinned, licking your lips as your heart skipped a beat. "How would you like me to show you?"

A thousand different ways flashed through his mind as he let out a ragged breath, all the different things that could be done so easily; no need for darkness or shadows, not a care if somebody walked in.

He pulled you down, raking the cold metal mask over your lips before you steadied him with both your hands; you kissed his mask, and his eyes crinkled as he blinked slowly.

You moved down, peppering his neck and his collarbone in those horribly sweet and yet all too pleasing kisses; he had enough, pulling you up again so he could just look at you.

"My love," he said hoarsely. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

You smiled, daring to get a little bit bold as you playfully pretended to pin him down. "Is that so?"

Slowly, Bane grabbed your hands, and laced his fingers with yours as he raised his brows slightly. He was utterly at your mercy, vulnerable and weak; you were the only person who had the privilege to see him like that, the only person he trusted to be entirely soft with.

"Next time someone from your past wants to make trouble," he said softly. "You should tell me before anything else... if they were to hurt you-"

"I know you care," you said quietly, all but murmuring the words into his mask. "I know you do. But I can clean my own messes, usually."

His eyes crinkled again, and he let out a breathy chuckle. "Would those be the messes that I help you make, by any chance?"

"You can help me make a mess now," you told him with a slight grin, moving his hands so that they were either side of his head.

"Right here?" He asked, amusement in his voice as he tilted his head to the side and spread his legs slightly.

You nodded, leaning over him. "Right here. In front of all your men."

Bane was all too tempted, and he was all too eager, and the moment that he felt another kiss to his mask, he was completely surrendered; all he wanted was to touch you, hold you, please you. He could see the little flecks of blood on your shirt, and how they had congealed and dried into teardrop shapes of almost black across your torso.

There had been no one like you in his life before; someone who was willing to defend him and run to his side, someone so loyal and so reckless about it that it matched his own intensity.

He loved you, and although he made it a point to tell you every morning and every night, it didn't feel like enough in that moment.

He needed to show you, just as he wanted you to show him your loyalty. He needed to, there was nothing more that he needed in that moment, and when you pulled back to smile at him, Bane knew that was done for.

You were everything to him, and no bat or clown or scarecrow was ever going to get in the way of that; he would burn the ashes of Gotham if they so much as tried to.

He would break them, in ways that would only ever be seen in books of medieval torture, if they so much as thought about it.

[impishsensei]

@songcurse asked: a kiss to prove you don’t have feelings for them. ‪‪❤︎‬ ˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 & 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 !

a year.

it's been a year and a few months since he let his student die. 

it's been a year since utahime ended things with him because of how distant he grew after the fact. everything about that situation was just so frightening in a way that he didn't know how to contend with. yes, the same satoru who always figures something out and gives a thumbs-up to his peers to let them know everything will be alright because he's got it. 

     don't worry, i'm the strongest.

kenji's death was the incident that rattled him the most since amanai's murder and suguru's defection. he is by no means soft or weak of will, but he is human too. he was at odds with himself because he knew that's not what everyone needed him to be. he needed to be more than that. he couldn't do that while trying to go through life like any regular person. 

he's not a regular person. his failures have caused so much harm, and it's always happened because he let his humanity win over his logical side. he wanted to give riko extra time, he let suguru walk away, he saved his girlfriend instead of his student. he needed to repent and do the right thing, because no one else could. 

          ❛ it is a great honor. ❜

          ❛ the pride of the gojo clan. ❜

          ❛ the most exceptional sorcerer in a thousand years. ❜

he doesn't hate it. not in the slightest. on the contrary, satoru finds his seemingly endless pools of curse energy exhilarating. he has a bit of a twisted side to him that is nothing short of gleeful at the prospect of striking fear into curses the same way they terrorize humans. he's manic, almost, riding on a high that no one else in his life could ever grasp. he wouldn't ever want to lose that. it's all he has left.

     why does it often feel like such a burden?

his feelings are strong — his empathy and compassion grown over the years by coming to find joy in protecting others. it's bolstered further by his role as a teacher looking after the youth. he's also an asshole. he can be selfish, mean, manipulative, and even blunt to the point of coming off as cruel. 

at his core, he has to be good though, right? why else would he have chosen to sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of everyone else? his job requires him to be closed off. he can't let others in, not in this line of work. it'll hurt too much, and he can't let himself hurt. his very technique demands that nothing can touch or move him. he can't be sentimental or vulnerable. he has to do his work, and hope that he's making a difference. he doesn't know how he'd deal with it all being for nothing. 

he hasn't squashed his feelings down enough, though, as he still feels an ache in his chest. his bed is cold in the mornings, his penthouse left collecting dust since he hardly spends any time there. he busies himself with work, and it's still not enough. he thinks about her, and how he pretended to be so callous that it broke her heart. he hurt her, and she has no clue how much he still lays awake at night replaying his memories and imagining what could've been if he was literally anyone else.

satoru knows he needs to make peace with his choice and let go. 

he catches her one autumn evening as she takes her leave from some get-together with shoko and mei mei. she's surprisingly only slightly tipsy as she opens up her umbrella. he moves swiftly from his spot on the roof, warping beside her. she looks startled and then irritated, and he takes a moment to admire how lovely she looks standing in the light radiating from the izakaya's lanterns. 

( yes, he does indeed often keep an eye on her from a distance far enough for her not to notice, but close enough to step in if he needs to. )   

satoru takes a hold of her wrist and tugs her into a kiss, foolishly hoping that he won't feel anything. it takes less than a second for him to realize he's made a mistake because all the affection he feels for her is as intense as it was in the moment he chose to save her — the very catalyst that tore him from a boy's daydream. it's as if no time has passed at all. reality sinks in when he feels her fail to reciprocate it, making it clear that she does not share the sentiment. 

she let go. 

she moved on. 

why can't he?   

❝ i'm sorry, hi-utahime. i just — i wanted to see if there was, um, something, because i… i shouldn't have  — sorry, ❞ satoru allows her to shove him away, and it's pure instinct that stops him from reactivating his infinity. he's near her, and she always hated it back then. would she still? he doesn't think she'll care. he doesn't want to find out. he instead stands there for a few moments, just letting the rain fall onto himself. it's… oddly comforting. he doesn't remember the last time he let himself feel the rain. he loved it as a kid, secretly jumping onto puddles when his handlers weren't looking so they couldn't scold him for playing. 

❝ i can take you back to your place since it's late and raining. i won't do that again, i promise. it's not safe to walk by yourself this late at night. ❞

[forensicated]

01x11 - The Sweet Smell Of Failure

(I'm really starting to show my age (aka: way old before my time!) all I can hear when I hear the Thames Television sting before TB is the very old clip of 'Here they are now, Morecambe and Wiiiiiise' to the same tune.)

A spiv-like character, Bloomfield, is hanging around the courts, watching everything that's going on around him. He is spotted by an old man (a regular court 'audience' member) who tells him he got a good result just getting a £600 fine rather than prison time given his form. When Bloomfield tells him to go away - but not that politely - he tells him his father would have turned in his grave for 'pleading to a bit of handling'. June spots it happening and asks him why he did plead guilty as he wouldn't usually - especially as the person he stole it from never noticed any issues with their stock. He just smiles and claims he did it because 'he was nicked by a bit of crumpet'. June sees straight through it and realises that he pretended to the judge that he was an honest trader who made a mistake rather than a DelBoy like seller from a suitcase without a license.

Bloomfield has a proposition for June. He asks her what will happen to the perfume now the case is over. She says it'll go to the importer and be destroyed. He tries to ask her to sign it back to him under a fake name with him offering her £500 to keep quiet. June won't have a bar of it and walks away with Bloomfield muttering that he has a lot of money tied up in it.

Taffy passes a message to June from Dave who is currently on a Hendon course. He can't make their date that night and tries to rearrange it for the next night. As if she's not having a bad enough day Roy requests her company! When she's gone upstairs, Bob asks Taffy why Dave is standing June up and he tells him that Dave has a ticket for the West Ham match. "West Ham?" Bob scoffs. "Even if it was Arsenal I know what I'd rather be doing!"

Upstairs, Roy is meeting with the importer of the perfume that Bloomfield was arrested with. He is concerned that it's a fake that could net the fraudster several thousands of pounds, even when he's selling it at a quarter of the price of the original. Aside from that it is the worst copy of the perfume that the importer has come across. The importer considers that Bloomfield himself might not even be aware that the perfume is fraudulent and that he could lead them to the counterfeit perfume makers.

Ted is unimpressed that he's having to type up all his own reports - especially as the secretary has called in sick. He's snowed under with work, three more biggish jobs have come in on top of what he already had and he's not sure he's going to have the time to get to them. Roy is typically sympathetic. "You're going to have the find the time, even if you're here till midnight!" He asks if he can have a temporary typist come in and Roy smiles. "Come off it, Ted. A bit of typing won't hurt you, it'll stop you from frightening people on the streets."

Roy attends Bloomfield's flat with June and Jim, sending Jim around the back incase he tries to escape. Bloomfield thinks his luck is in when he sees June, thinking she's changed her mind...

"Alright, Johnny Boy?"

"Should have bleedin' well known you'd be behind this somewhere!"

Roy has a nose around Bloomfield's front room, unnerving him before asking what he thinks about Frank Bruno. Bloomfield claims he'll be a world-beater with a bit more experience. Whilst he's distracted and stands up, Roy sits down in his place and changes the subject to the perfume, telling him they're going to take him back to the court and get his conviction squashed because the perfume is counterfeit.

Bloomfield tells Roy he paid a lot of money for it with June adding that he's been done up like a kipper. Roy tells him his new charge will be 'obtaining money by deception' which is obviously a lot worse and would likely land him in prison for a stretch and get him front page news and make those people who bought the perfume come back to try and get their money back. Bloomfield tries to push his luck and claim that June did him 'a favour' not taking it further and that 'it wouldn't be fair to make trouble for her' and that a handling charge makes it seem like the gear is "straight... bent but straight" so he asks Roy what else can be done. He asks where he got it from and Bloomfield insists it was a man in a pub he'd never met.

He says he'll tell them about the firm responsible for a string of burglaries at high-end houses and asks to speak to him alone. Roy allows Jim and June to leave before pouring himself a glass of Bloomfield's scotch while he waits.

Outside, Jim and June talk about how Jim did well and June calls them a double act - or treble act with Roy. She says that before Jim knows it, Roy will have his eye on him for CID and that he's even starting to talk like him. "Now listen, Sunshine!" Jim jests, just as Roy comes outside. "Now listen, Sunshine," he says, warning Bloomfield he'll be back for him if he's been feeding him a line. "Bloody pigs!" he shouts after them to keep face with his neighbours.

Jim asks Roy if he believes what he said and Roy says Bloomfield's back is against the wall and they are his only way out. He suggests Jim and June stay in civies the next day and look into it as 'good experience'. They're both booked off for tomorrow and Roy says it's tough. "You shouldn't have joined if you didn't have a sense of humour. You part-timers..."

Ted, now sporting several cuts and bruises, is dictating a report to Mike who is typing one finger at a time and mocking his spelling. "Come on, you went to bloody grammar school. Let's see you spell it without a dictionary!" Mike picks up a pencil and writes 'lodgings' on Ted's notepad instead of 'accommodation'.

"I suppose you think that's funny!"

Bob storms up to Roy's office. Roy picks his phone up immediately and starts ringing a telephone number "Anything I can do for you Bob?" Unfortunately for Roy, there's no one in so he has to listen to Bob who thunders that he took two of his lads off duty, "One lad, or can't you tell the difference anymore?" Bob isn't amused and continues that it's Jim and June's day off tomorrow but Roy has ordered them to come in and he's not happy about it. Roy shrugs and says he can't spare any of his officers and it's 'one of those things'. Bob shouts that Roy is just covering himself and if it was a decent job that needed doing urgently he'd manage to find a detective then. Roy asks if he's finished and Bob thunders that if he wants any of his officers in the future he has to speak to him first.

Roy growls back that they're supposed to be cooperating and fighting the people outside not each other. He doesn't give a shit about reliefs or departments, and asks if they're doing the same job or not? Bob glares at him and storms out, leaving a sneaky Roy smiling behind him. I'm pretty sure he also blows him a subtle kiss...! Ted shouts after Bob after his storming out sends a load of papers he'd sorted falling to the floor.

Jim and June are given a storeroom above a shop by Doctor Legg Mr Lee so they can watch. The problem is they're being stared at by a load of armless naked mannequins "They're very law-abiding." Doctor Legg tells them.

Jim has a particular way of moving them that gives June the giggles. Perhaps this is where they really fell in love, 20 years before they actually give in to it!😂

She's also amused that Jim's casual gear is a full suit rather than jeans and a comfortable shirt. He admits that, if it comes to nothing, he hopes to take her out for lunch. She's about to agree until he asks if Dave would mind. Still smarting from Dave cancelling on her June scoffs and Jim puts his foot in it. "... Well it was a cup match! West Ham... he had a hell of a job getting a ticket... have I said something wrong?"" "Just wait till I get my hands on him!" June scowls.

Bang on 10am, their suspects leave the cafe opposite as Bloomfield said they would. As they leave, we see an even creepier sight than the stock room. Atomically correct naked mannequins based on little children in the front window! 😶 I know it's the 80's but they really should have thought through the staging! Jim and June watch an elderly couple slowly make their way out of the alley nearby with a shopping trolley in hand. "You've got to be joking! That pair? Bonnie and Clyde?!" June laughs. She thinks they've been had over but Jim thinks they should give them a tug. They follow the couple through the market, having to really dawdle given the speed of the pair. June even kisses Jim's cheek as they look into a jeweler's window.

They continue to follow the couple arm in arm with Jim breaking away to look at a magazine in a hurry when they look round - unfortunately for him it's a Woman's Own!

Roy ignores Bob as he arrives for the morning with Bob making a dig about being short on manpower and asking if he can borrow some of CID for the weekend. "Get stuffed!" "You know, us being on the same team and all." Roy glares back at him, telling him he's got enough aggro from Ted having had a punch-up in a pub.

As Jim and June turn a corner, they appear to have lost the old couple. Thankfully it turns out they were just a bit quicker than them. June is now starting to suspect that Jim was right given that they dragged the trolley from the High Street without buying anything and where they are is only houses - and expensive houses at that. "This is the area where all the screwings [burglaries] are happening." She poses as a potential housebuyer with Jim to avoid being caught out.

The old man is standing outside a house and keeping watch. The old dear joins him from a house, pulling her trolley behind her. She helps him up off the wall and they continue to walk back along, stopping outside another house where she sits him on the wall again before disappearing inside with her trolley. Jim and June make a run for it to get to them as the old lad tries to blow a whistle, "Naughty naughty, Grandad!" June chastises, managing to stop him in time.

Charles appears in Roy's office and asks if Jim and June have gotten in touch. Roy had forgotten all about them which displeases Charles given the overtime. He drives around the area they last reported that they were heading in, amused to find them sat on a wall with the old couple. He lets them load them into the back of his car to get them back to the station with Jim in the back with them. June tells him their address - it's right underneath Bloomfield! Roy warns them they're going to search the flat and that they're in big trouble if there's anything there that shouldn't be. When they head over, their entire flat is absolutely jam-packed full with all sorts of stuff that they've stolen over the decades, including a police helmet. Wonder if it's Bob's that was missing in Death Of A Cracksman.

At the station, Roy asks the woman, Lily, if there's anything in the flat that isn't stolen. She stays quiet before asking to speak to Roy. "You're a real gent you are. Let me whisper in your shell-like." He sits beside her but doesn't let her whisper. She asks him not to charge her husband because it's all down to her. Lily says she'll give him the SP on the dodgy perfume if he doesn't prosecute her husband. He promises that he'll have a word with the judge for both of them if she tells him and promises to speak up for her husband especially. She whispers for him to take a trip down by the docks and he should find exactly what he's looking for.

Roy sits in his car with June and tells him that arresting Lily and her husband has disturbed him and brings back bad memories but he doesn't elaborate on why. He quickly covers and says she shouldn't take him confessing that as a sign of weakness and covers that Jim is taking too long. Inside Jim gives Taffy a note to pass on to Dave - it tells him that June is aware of what really happened to him the night before and the real reason he canceled the date! "The message reads the Ides of March are upon you! He'll know what it means.... no it's not Dylan Thomas!" Taffy growls before being told Dave's already left! Taffy tries his best to locate him, calling around the section house but he's stopped by Bob who asks him to do some checks for him and then tidy the place up. "That's your last chance, lovely boy!" he sighs, binning the note.

Roy drives deep into the Docks before Jim locates a lone car. Roy parks behind it so it can't move and they then go looking for a warehouse with signs of life around it. Eventually they find the right one and creep in, the noise of an electrical generator covering their movements. "If anyone asks, we're Board Of Trade Inspectors."

Finally they can hear a man singing Karma Chameleon and move into the room. ... It just so happens that it's our old friend Bloomfield. "Oh good, it's the little lady..." he says on spotting June, trying to make out they have an arrangement. Roy doesn't believe it for a second. "... Can't win 'em all, can you!"

Roy leads Bloomfield in as Bob processes the old couple. "Got you at last have they, Auntie Lil? About bleedin' time!"

"If it isn't nephew John. Fancy meeting you here." Lilly crows before whispering to Bob. "Here Sarge, don't give him bail. He'll have it on his toes, you mark my words. Black sheep of the family he is!" Jim is confused because it was 'Aunt Lil' who shopped Bloomfield, and Bloomfield who shopped Aunt Lil! Families!

Bob and Roy meet with Brownlow who tell them that overtime is becoming a problem for both departments. Bob reminds him that they had three marches and a massive football match in the last month alone and Roy reminds him he's short on men full stop so has to plug the gap with overtime. Brownlow tells him that he doesn't want to discuss it - the overtime has to be cut. His phone rings straight after and he starts to discuss a golf match instead, signaling them to leave.

Dave shows off to Sadie, the barmaid at the station local, about his Hendon course, making out that it's all secret squirrel and need to know. Still unaware that June knows the truth about cancelling their date the night before, he buys her a drink as she appears. "Good match was It?" she asks, pouring her drink over his head after he gives her a gift of the very counterfeit perfume she and Jim had been working on all day! Dave's utterly confused as she walks out. "What the hell have I done now?"

And this is the end of series 1! It was supposed to be a 12 episode series with The Chief Super's Party as the last episode but wasn't finished by the time it should have been aired because of the industrial dispute between Thames Television and it's technicians.

Instead, The Chief Super's Party has some rewriting/reshot scenes to cover cast departures from between the two series and became the end of series 2 instead.

[poisonedpomegranate]

When I post that I condemn the attitudes of Israel, without mentioning anything at all about Jews, whether Israeli Jews or non-Israeli Jews, and someone accuses me of being anti-Semitic, I think about a number of things. The first is in a Brazilian song written during the Military Dictatorship. At that time, people were tortured by the government. When they resisted, they were portrayed as terrorists. I know that there were people who thought it was wrong for the guerrillas to have weapons in their hands. I know that's why the song "Pra Não Dizer Que Não Falei Das Flores" was written. You can't defeat a dictatorship by talking about flowers. You can't fight a war just by asking "please help me." You can't have a revolution without forcing the other side to listen to you, and they won't listen to you if you don't do damage. It's terrible that this happens, it's sad. Depressing as fuck. All deaths are worth mourning. But I can't pretend that things can be different. Not to pretend that a dictator will simply give up without suffering. That a state that massacres another will stop out of kindness.

Additionally, I also thought about how some people seem to believe that if a person who is a minority is accused of something, it is because they suffer from prejudice. It isn't, it isn't always. If I beat up some white European without any reason, will I be right because my ancestors were enslaved? Do I suffer racism? Yes. Do I suffer from xenophobia? Yes. But that doesn't exempt me from mistakes and it doesn't mean that everyone who disapproves of my actions is racist and xenophobic. My origins are strongly linked to who I am, but I am not just that. My mistakes are not canceled out by my ancestry and, fortunately, my mistakes are not caused by my ancestry. So why is it that when I say that I support the Palestinian people, without making any offensive comments towards the Jews, I am accused of being anti-Semitic?

Another thing I think about is: if, when supporting Palestine, a person accuses me of being anti-Semitic, what does that mean? Are they Islamophobic? Do they hate Arab people? That they think the violence Palestinians suffer doesn't matter? I'm not going to accuse someone of being prejudiced without having a reason to believe that person is prejudiced, but following the logic that these people establish… I could.

Also, I think about the Haitian Revolution. I'm not a historian, I'm not a student of the Haitian Revolution, but I know some things. Thousands of enslaved people rose up in one night and set their masters on fire. Nobody expected that. We don't even know for sure how this happened. How did they organize themselves? There are no written records, not made by them. Those who recorded this were the Europeans. The rebels were portrayed as practically monsters, as violent creatures, as if they were animals. You can see this by looking at the illustrations. "Massacre of the Whites", they said.

I reinforce my opinion that it is a mistake to only look at the violence of the colonized and ignore the violence of the colonizer.

And by all this do I mean that there are no anti-Semites who claim to support Palestine? No. But believing that supporting Palestine implies being anti-Semitic is a very superficial way of thinking.

[s-the-seething-songbird-2]

Logs for Thomas, Part 2. Log #2

Song stuck in my head: "On & On" by Cartoon (ft. Daniel Levi)

Disclaimer: Some (a lot of) details will be omitted/skewed both in this log and any upcoming ones because, however unlikely it might be, I don't want one of my abusers to find this blog and trace it back to me (and because of how personal this blog is, I'm not sure I want ANYONE to find this except for you (and, honestly, maybe not even you either, because if you really do hate me, you might use whatever you read here to hurt me)).

I'm a fucking mess.

I've turned 26 very recently, and while things have been mostly good--I got a free pastry and drink from a restaurant I frequent, I'm going to get sushi with my family tonight, and I was even able to stop at a holiday-themed store I really like, meaning I got to collect some things for my Halloween costume!

I'm not terribly focused on my costume this year compared to previous years. Instead, I've taken to decorating our house and making that look very spooky. I suppose I've become old enough that I'm become accustomed to the giving end of Halloween instead of receiving, which does make me a little sad, but it's a thousand times more practical considering how my life is built lately. I feel doubly old because the thought of seeing all of my neighborhood's kids in their cute lil costumes and how excited they'll be when they see how much candy they can get from us (we're going to be LOADED this year) sound infinitely more appealing to me than dressing up and going door to door.

So, anyway, there I was, at the holiday-themed store mentioned earlier. Someone very close to me really wanted a giant, fuck-off sword for our local RenFair, and I found the perfect one in the weapon props section. I had already collected some parts for my costume, and I was just double-checking to make sure there wasn't anything I missed that would be useful.

I was crouched down, looking at one of the dark black cloaks for sale, and then, as I reached out for the price tag, I heard a familiar melody on the radio.

Dun, dun, dun, DUN-dun-duh-duh duhhh, duh… dah, dah, dum, DA-DUM…

Oh no. No, no no no! No, fuck this, no, stop it brain, it’s just a song, don’t pay attention, just get your shit and go, just get your shit—!

I like that you’re broken, broken like me Maybe that makes me a fool

But I was already frozen. I was frozen, and my fingers were so cold.

Before I could stop myself, I closed my eyes, pulled all of my items to my chest, and held them tight. And then I relived everything.

November. Doing laundry. You call, I answer. Talking, dreaming, promising. Connecting, laughing, smiling. I could feel you in the room, but I knew you weren’t there. Secrets, fears, mistakes. I could feel you in my dreams.

I let myself feel the joy, the warmth, the closeness, pretending the fabrics and plastic packages were your arms.

I like that you're lonely, lonely like me

I could be lonely with you

December. Excitement, hope, terror. Do we tell him? Do we come clean? But what if I lose you? I won't, you said. We'd never lose each other. We loved each other. You said you wouldn't leave and I believed you.

I met you, late night at a party

Two days before Christmas. Confusion, desperation, betrayal?

Worry. Pain. Fear. Self-hatred. Hatred for him her. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Gone.

Gone forever.

Gone forever, but I still know the lyrics.

Some trust-fund baby's Brooklyn loft

I couldn't let myself cry in the store. I especially couldn't let myself cry about this. Not again. So I didn't.

But I closed my eyes harder and held you tighter, fighting against reality for just a couple of extra seconds.

November, laundry, call, talk, love, dream...

Talk, love, dream, smile, warm...

Warm...

And then I let go.

Gone.

And then I was in the real world again, and I realized how silly I must have looked. No one near me said anything, though, so maybe they didn't notice.

Stupid song. Stupid pain. Stupid long line at checkout. Stupid stupid stupid.

Just buy it and leave. Buy it, act normal, thank the cashier, stay normal, smile, and leave.

Smile...

It's all so blurry now. Like all other memories from my childhood, it only exists in a series of white-hot snippets filled with emotional whiplash.

I hate that it's all that's left. I hate how strongly it still makes me feel, and how little of it I remember. I know there are things I saw, heard, and thought that are permanently lost to time.

I'm so angry. I'm so fucking angry, Thomas. I'm so angry that this still hurts, and I was getting so much better, and then Shay came back, and I thought maybe it would all be okay again, and then it wasn't okay, and the wounds reopened, and god, I wish I was never born.

It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts, JUST COME BACK, fuck, fuck, fuck

I'm not asking that we be together again! You guys are happy together, and I'm happy for you, I really am! But spending all of this time believing that you missed me and still cared about me and were proud of me was helping me move forward.

And then...

I can't cry about this again. I can't. This is so unbelievably embarrassing.

It seemed like Shay was developing some kind of crush on me, and I thought the most recent pictures of her were pretty attractive, too, and she wanted you and I to talk again, and... At worst, maybe things would be weird between you and I, but over time, the weirdness would dissolve, and maybe you and Jack would even start to talk again, and you'd apologize to him, and he'd forgive you, and my son could get closure, and... At best, maybe... maybe you and I and Shay could have become a thrupple, with my partners' permission? And then I'd learn about everything that happened while we were apart, and I could help you two heal, and we'd cry and hug each other, and I'm crying again god fucking damn it!

I MISS YOU. I miss you, Thomas. The things you've said and done over the years have really hurt, but I've never stopped caring, even when I thought I had. Do you realize that I still think about you every day? Wondering what you're up to, if you're okay--

Hang on, sorry, my girlfriend called.

Sushi plans for tonight have been confirmed! Yay!

I'm not asking to be with you again. That's not what any of this is. I just want you to be fucking nice to me again! That's all I want, that's all I want! Why? Why is that impossible?

Look, I have to go. This thing is long enough as it is, and I'm going to try and enjoy the rest of today.

I hope you're okay. I hope you're happy. I really do.

- S