#and forcing them back into either never going out or just suffering the consequences

[palms-upturned]

.

[gay-dorito-dust]

okay so y/n is secretly a god of keeping an eye on this gravity falls universe and is trying to protect the kids because she's seen how they died so many times and full on just breaks down in front of Stan and ford telling them

Ngl this was kinda shit

You don’t know how much more you could take of having beer witnessed to so many timelines where the twins died far too young.

You didn’t know how much more of their suffering you were forced to watch on the sidelines while being reminded by beings of a power far greater than yours that there was to be no divine intervention. None whatsoever as it was a taboo amongst gods and was punishable by having the elder gods remove your immortality and take away any and all divine powers from you.

You didn’t care about the consequences of your own actions when you fled from your home in hopes of helping Dipper and Mabel survive one timeline, to grow older and live long happy lives unlike their alternate selves that you couldn’t save. You were sick and tired of seeing the same end result for the Pine twins timeline after timeline after timeline. This time it was going to be different, and you were going to make sure of it as you watched through the bark of trees as they ventured off on their next monster of the week, always coming back to the shack unscathed.

‘Hey great aunt/ grunkle y/n!’ They’d both greet you with wide smiles despite their messy appearances.

‘You two looked like you had some fun today. Find anything investing to share?’ You’d ask them but you already knew the answer. You had used your power to ward off the sneaky pack of Direwolves from mauling the kids and grant them a quick escape, a victory unfortunately not shared by their alternate selves, who never came back from the encounter. You still remembered the pained screams as they were deeply etched into your subconscious, keeping you awake at night.

The twins shared a look as thought debating whether or not to tell you, only to mentally agree on the later as they both looked back at you and said in unison; ‘nope! Just some scrapes and cuts, nothing interesting at all!’ Before they left to go to their room. As soon as they left the smile of your face faltered as you let out an uneven sigh, your hands covering your eyes as you softly wept into them, not understanding how cruel life must be to condemn the sweetest and bravest children you knew to countless deaths with each one being worse then the last.

You didn’t care that you’d be punished for your actions, you didn’t care that you’d be ridiculed and berated by the elder gods for being too human for a god, but you would much rather risk it all if it meant that all your effort and energy would bring forth a timeline where the twins emerged victorious; They deserved as much.

‘I can’t let it happen again.’ You whispered to yourself.

You must’ve been too occupied by the turmoil inside your own head that you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps came towards you, nor noticed that whoever was walking towards you had now sat themselves on either side of you until a hand was placed on your shoulder were you finally drawn back to reality.

‘Are you okay? Dipper and Mabel said they could hear you sobbing.’ Ford said and you saw that both he and Stan had come to check on you.

‘I can’t.’ You muttered.

‘Can’t what?’ Stan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘I can’t watch them die again, not this time.’ You said as you wiped your eyes clean of tears. ‘I’ve watched enough of the same story come to violent and unfair endings and got told that’s just how the way things are.’

Ford and Stan shared a look, not knowing the best course of action to take in order to comfort you when you were talking in vague and ominous riddles. So Ford gently moved you so that you were looking at him directly, ‘what do you mean by that? Who’s them?’ You breathed in deeply as you mustered up the strength to tell Ford and Stan a truth you’ve been keeping to yourself in order to keep them all safe, but the Pines Family were a curious bunch and couldn’t help but be drawn to things they shouldn’t, while also having strange things be drawn to them in vice versa.

‘I haven’t been all that truthful about who I am and I only did so for a good reason, to keep you all safe.’ You said as you held onto Ford’s arms while looking between him and Stan, ‘I’m a deity who came here to Gravity Falls after bearing witness to multiple timelines where Dipper and Mabel don’t make it out alive from their encounters with the anomalies of this very town. I’ve risked everything to be here, even my own powers and immortality to keeping these kids safe in hopes of seeing the fruits of my labour be proven fruitful.’ You continued your admittance as you saw the conflicting emotions cut across their faces the more you spoke of your true origin.

‘What do you mean that dipper and Mabel die in each timeline you’ve seen?’ Stan then asked, his face set in agitation, ‘you’re a god aren’t you? Couldn’t you just have intervened and save them regardless? I thought you gods were meant to be omnipotent or whatever?’

‘That’s not how it works, is it.’ Ford said as he was slowly putting the pieces together while his thumbs caressed your shoulders reassuringly.

‘No.’ You said softly as a new wave of tears started to cascade down your cheeks. ‘The elder gods decreed long ago to forbid divine intervention of all kinds. They claim that there was nothing that can be done to change what has already been foreseen, but I couldn’t do it.’ You whimpered as you looked at Stan. ‘I just couldn’t when I knew that I could at least change one timeline, just one. Im sorry.’ You finished as Stan and Ford felt their hearts hurt for you, a god who was going against their entire way of life to keeping their grand niece and nephew safe, all the while feeling immense guilt consumed you from the inside out over the other realities.

Stan then moved so that he was just as in your line of sight as Ford was and began to wipe away some of your tears with his thumb. ‘I guess that explains all those times I’ve seen you silently stare out into the woods.’ He began jokingly as everything leading up to now started to make sense, how you’d always put yourself between the children and any potential danger or how you’d watch over them like a hawk and making sure they were in your line of sight no matter what as though afraid that something terrible would happen if they weren’t. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for them sweetheart, but it’s time you took care of yourself just as well.’ Stan then adds as he and Ford escorted you back into the shack, much to your confusion as you looked between them.

‘I cant! I have to make sure-‘

‘The twins are fast asleep in their beds y/n. They’re safe, you have done enough for today. Now if it time for you to rest.’ Ford gently reprimanded you as you suddenly began to feel the weight of fatigue that you had been putting off for several days now.

‘Yeah don’t go worrying yourself so much, or else you’ll get grey hairs like me and point Dexter over here. Let us take over once in a while okay honey?’ Stan says as he and Ford tried to get your mind off of your mission when they both saw just how much you’ve run yourself into the ground, how reluctant you were to relinquishing control and allowing yourself to rest up from the countless days of no sleep nor sustenance. They were pretty sure you hadn’t looked at yourself in a mirror to know just how badly you looked, nor the haunted you seem to get in your eyes now and then as though you were recalling traumatic events.

‘But-‘

‘Nope.’ Stan interrupted.

‘Can’t I just-‘

‘I’m afraid we can’t let you do that. God or not, you need rest. We’ll keep the kids safe in your stead.’ Ford cuts you off this time as he and Stan managed to wrangle you into bed after a brief struggle where you realised just how badly your limbs ached snd screamed with a desire to rest or how your eyelids felt heavier then lead.

‘Promise?’ You asked them sleepily.

Stan pressed a soft kiss to your forehead while Ford squeezed your hand reassuringly. ‘We promise, you’ve done your part so please, let us do ours.’

[samandcolbyownme]

PART ONE

Summary: Anon request - "omg wait. request idea for sam and colby as ghostface smut :0 like billy loomis and stu macher OG ghostface"

Warnings: This one shot will contain smut and gore. There will be talk of death, murder, suicide, and blood, along with forceful acts such as choking, gagging, hair pulling, stabbing, and other malicious acts. The smut parts of this will contain, semi forceful actions, unprotected sex, fingering, hair pulling, choking, knife play, oral (both), double penetration, dirty talk, and f i l t h

Disclaimer: I'm putting my own twist on this. There will be references from the original Scream, but I am going to make it a tad more modern and my own and make it so instead of SnC wanting to kill y/n, they're going after a specific group of people from one particular event that involved y/n and of course, wanting y/n all to themselves.

Side note: Italics are when Sam and/or Colby are in ghostface mode.

Word count: 25.9K but I had to break it into two parts due to tumblr's character limit. The link to part two will be at the end of this.

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"You call, Sam." Colby says pushing the phone into his chest, "I need to make this little bitch suffer for what he did to her."

"We gotta keep it clean, Colby." Sam looks up at him, "I'm just as pissed about this as you are, but more or less, we can't afford to get caught."

Colby scoffs, "You're going to sit there and tell me that you don't want to rip his guts out for forcing y/n into something she obviously didn't want to do?"

You unknowingly, and drunkenly told Sam and Colby about what happened at the party you went to without them. You told them about  Levi McCallum forced himself onto you while his two other friends and Nina, his girlfriend watched, and that didn't sit right with either of them.

No one gets to hurt their girl and have zero consequence.

Over the last month, Sam and Colby have been plotting, in secret. Trying to find out just what to do exactly, which didn't take them long at all, and tonight, Nina and Levi are first to be crossed off the list.

Sam's anger boils as he thinks about what you went through, quickly turning infuriated, "Fuck them. They need to die."

"There we go." Colby grips Sam's shoulder, shaking him gently, "We're doing this for her."

"For her." Sam takes a deep breath and looks over at an older car coming up the long dirt road, "There he is. Good luck, brother."

Colby slips his gloves on, getting out as he grabs his mask from the dash, "Good luck, brother."

Colby disappears into the woods as Sam pulls out the burner, dialing the number to Nina's house. He listens to it ring before pulling the voice changer up to his lips as Nina answers with a mellow, "Hello?"

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" Sam asks in the raspy changed voice.

"Who is this?" Nina asks confused.

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." Sam rests his head back against the seat of the car as she declines, "um, I don't think so."

Sam hears her shaking something in the background, "What is that? That noise you're making."

"Popcorn." She says with a slight laugh and Sam rolls his eyes, "I only eat popcorn at the movies."

"I actually am going to put a movie on, my boyfriend.." she emphasizes, "Is coming over to watch it with me."

"You like scary movies? What's your favorite?"  Sam asks, trying to buy Colby more time to get Levi restrained.

"Oh, um, I don't know. I guess I never really thought about it." She sighs, "Probably Halloween? Maybe. The one with the guy in the white mask that kills the babysitters on Halloween."

"Uh huh." Sam nods to himself, looking around as he quietly gathers his tools.

"What's yours?"  She asks, surprising Sam by keeping the conversation going.

"Guess."

"Nightmare on Elm Street?"

"Didn't that guy have knives for fingers? Freddy Krueger?"

Sam knows all about horror movies, as does Colby, thanks to you. You're always making them watch a different movie or series, especially around Halloween time.

"Yeah, him. The first one was alright, but the rest just absolutely sucked." She clicks the lock and Sam sits up slightly.

"So you said boyfriend, is it anything serious?"

"Why?" She laughs with a flirty tone, "You want to take me out on a date?" 

He rolls his eyes, "Maybe. All you gotta do is tell me your name."

"Why do you want to know my name?" She giggles and Sam's demeanor darkens, his anger taking over, "Cause I wanna know who I'm looking at."

She goes quiet, the tone in her voice drops to scared, "W-What did you just say?"

"Because I want to know who I'm talking to."

"That's not.. that's not what you said." Nina goes around looking out the windows and Sam squeezes the phone, "What did you think I said, then?"

She flicks the back light on, catching Sam's attention, "What?"

She doesn't say anything, so he asks again, "Hello?"

"I-I.. look.. I gotta go."  Nina flicks the light off and Sam quietly gets ready to get out, "Wait, no. I thought you said we were going to go out."

"Nah, I don't think I want to. Creep." She hangs up as Sam tells her not to hang up. The call ends and he gets out, quickly disappearing into the woods to make his way up to the house.

He sees Colby holding onto Levi with a knife pressed against his throat. Sam slips his mask on, bringing the phone back up to his ear and slipping the voice changer into his mask, calling Nina again.

He watches her through the window, seeing her stop as she stares at the phone before answering, "What the fuck do you want?"

"I told you not to hang up on me."

"What do you want, then? Huh?" She asks slightly frantic, "Huh?"

"I told you. I just want to talk."

"About what? What could you possibly want to talk to me about?" Nina runs a hand over her face, on the verge of tears.

"About what happened at that party two months ago."

"Call someone else. I'm done." She hangs up and that's when Sam moves up to help get Levi in the pool chair, duct taping his hands behind his back.

His yelling is muffled through the several pieces of tape keeping his mouth closed.

Colby grips his throat, squeezing until his eyes roll back and he's not making any noise. Sam taps Colby, indicating to let him go, that he needs to be alive for Nina to see him die.

Sam makes his way around the house, quietly getting in through the one window she didn't have locked before calling again.

"Listen asshole." Nina screams into the phone and Sam cuts her off, anger dripping from his words, "You listen to me you little bitch, you hang up on me again and I swear to god I'll gut you like a fish."

She doesn't say anything and the feeling of power takes over Sam, chuckling slightly, "Yeah."

"Is this a joke?" She whimpers out.

"More of a lesson about karma, really." He pauses as he hears her moving slowly, "Can you handle getting your karma for what you did, blondie?"

"What did I do?" She asks, trying to sound innocent and Sam just laughs, "More or less of what you and that sleezeball boyfriend of yours did."

Nina takes off running, locking all the doors she can get to. She looks out the window of the front door and puts the phone back up to her ear.

"Can you see me, Nina?"

She's breathing heavy, crying, "I'm going to call the fucking cops. This isn't fucking funny anymore."

"They'd never make it in time, look at where we're at. We're in the middle of no where." Sam moves to another room and she pleads, "Just tell me what you want, fuck. I'll do anything, please."

"I already told you, you need your karma. But I also kinda want to see what your insides look like." A sinister smiles grows behind Sam's mask as he listens to Nina sob and hang up.

Colby quickly walks around to the front, ringing the door bell a few times before running off. Nina screams, "Who's there? Fuck, I'm calling the cops, I'm not do-"

The phone rings as she picks it up, and she screams, crying as she brings to her ear.

"Don't you know not to ask who's there, fuck. You should know all about that from the movies you watch. Asking who's there is a death wish, and I'm feeling generous enough to grant it for you."

"Look.." she gasps for air, "You've had your fun now so I think.. you better just leave me... the fuck alone or else I-"

"Or else what?" Sam taunts, "What could you possibly do to outsmart me? Hmm?"

"My boyfriend will be here any fucking minute and he'll find you, and rip you apart for messing with me." She screams into the phone and Sam laughs, "Your boyfriend is a pussy, Nina. He'd do anything to save himself before you, now why don't you just walk on over to the back, look out at the pool."

"Fuck you. Fuck you."

"His name wouldn't happen to be Levi.. would it?"

She gasps, "How do you know his name?"

"Go to the doors, like I said, and turn on the fucking lights.. again."

Sam makes his way downstairs, knowing that she is focused on a bloody and beat up Levi. Still on the phone, he hears her sob, "Oh god, no. No. No. Levi!" She scratches at the door to unlock it frantically but Sam on the phone makes her stop, "I don't recommend doing that."

"Where the fuck are you?" She pounds on the glass of the window, "Where the fuck are you?"

"Guess. I could be anywhere."

"Please don't hurt him." She pleads, "I love him."

"Really? You love someone who goes around, using girls for his own drunken pleasure at parties they should have even been at?"

"What are you ta-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about bitch." Sam growls, "Now, if you want him to live, play a game with me."

"What game?"  She whimpers and Sam chuckles, "Turn off the light." Levi screams behind the tape and Nina leans against the wall listening as she turns off the lights.

"What party were you at two months ago?"

She thinks for a moment, sniffling as she does, "I-I do-"

"Don't tell me you don't know because I know for a fact you know exactly what I'm talking about." Sam snaps, "if I have to ask again, your pussy of a boyfriend dies."

"A party. It was Xander's party." She sobs, "Please.. don't kill him."

"What happened at Xander's party, Nina?"

"I don't.. I really don't know.." she lies, pleading for Levi's life, "I don't know, asshole. Fucking kill me if you want, but leave Levi alone!"

Sam is quiet for a few seconds, "Wrong answer." Sam hangs up and Nina goes to the door, screaming as Colby plunges a knife into his abdomen, spilling his guts into his lap, leaving Levi dead where he sits right as she flicks the lights back on.

Colby vanishes, making his way back into the woods incase Sam needs backup.

"Hey." Sam says catching her attention to the phone again, "We're not done. I still have one final question."

"Go the fuck away. You already killed Levi, what more do you want from me!?"

"Which door am I at? You got a fifty fifty chance of picking the right one.." he pushes as he listens to her voice shake, "Unless I'm already in the house."

She drops the phone as Colby throws a chair through the window, making her take off into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the block. She backs up slowly, gasping as Sam crosses the hallway in a swift motion, making his way into the other room.

She slips out the patio doors, shaking as she looks back in to see Sam stalking around the house. She moves over, getting ready to take off until he busts through the door, tackling her to the ground.

She gets up fast, but so does Sam. He chases her across the yard, grabbing her to pull her back and he plunges his knife deep into her chest, twisting it before throwing her down on the grass.

She's gasping, hyperventilating as she runs her fingers over the stab wound, trying to plead for her life once more. Sam moves on top of her, pressing a hand to her throat so she doesn't make any noise.

She ends up kicking him, making him fall back as she desperately tries to crawl away. With his adrenaline pumping, he gets back up, crawling over and stopping her.

He rolls her back over. She tries to scream for help but her voice is a strangled whine, "H-he-hel- help."

Sam shakes his head, gripping her throat again as she reaches up and rips his mask off. He stares down at her, giving her a smirk before stabbing her again.

And again.

Sam smashes the phone and leaves to find Colby before a car comes in from the other direction.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

It wasn't unusual for you to share a bed with Sam or Colby, you guys have been close for many, many years which developed into this relationship that made you not want to look for anyone else. You were content with them, so you didn't need or even want a boyfriend, it was like you had two.

But it wasn't official or anything.

What was unusual, was that you woke up to it just being you, "Sam?" You call out hoping for an answer, "Colby?"

You swing your legs over, standing up as you grab one of the sweatshirts that's on the floor, checking your phone to see a message from Sam, Drug Colby with me for a run. Be back soon.

You sigh, feeling relieved as you now know they aren't in any kind of trouble like they have been in before. In the middle of responding, you hear the door open and you quickly make your way down the steps.

"Good morning, gorgeous." Sam says winking at you. You smile, "How was the run?" You look at Colby and he shrugs, "it was actually very exhilarating, I think I'm going to start running with Sam more often."

"Wow." You raise your eyebrows, taking the coffee Sam hands you, "That's not like you at all."

Colby chuckles, "Yeah, well. It is now I guess. Gotta stay in shape so I can fight those demons all night long." He motions to his Currently Fighting Demons hoodie and you roll your eyes with a laugh, "You really are a walking advertisement."

Sam smirks at you, "I'm going to go up and shower, but after that want to go out to eat?" You nod, "Mm." You swallow your coffee, "Yes please, I'm starving."

Sam jogs up the steps and Colby walks over to you, "You doing okay?" You sip your coffee and look up at him, "I was just worried that you two got arrested again."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "No, no. Just went for a run. We aren't going anywhere." He tucks hair behind your ear and quickly kisses your forehead, "I'm going to shower, too."

You smile turning as you go into the living room. Right as you sit down, your phone rings, "Hey, Soph."

"Are you home?" She asks, her voice shakey, "Y/n."

"Yes. Yes. We're all here, what's up? What's going on?" You sit up, "Sophie?" There's about knock on your door, "I'm here." She yells, still on the phone.

You get up, quickly walking over to unlock the door, "Hey, come in."

"Levi and Nina are dead."

Her words shock you, "I'm sorry." You laugh slightly, "what did you just say?"

She takes a deep breath, "Nina and Levi are dead. Y/n.  Gone."

"What the hell? When? How? Why?" You run a hand over your hair, kinda acting more sad about it than you actually were because Sophie doesn't know what happened to you, "What can I do?"

You walk over and hug her as she breaks down in your arms.

Sam and Colby slowly walk down the steps, giving you a confused look they point to her. You shake your head, giving them a frown, "Levi and Nina are dead."

Your voice is quiet as you wipe the tears from her eyes, "I'm so sorry, Soph."

"Nina was like a sister to me. I mean obviously you too.." she laughs nervously, "Fuck, you know what I mean."

"It's okay. I understand." You walk her to the couch and sit down with her, her head laying in your lap as she starts sobbing again, "Who.. would do t-this?"

"I don't know, honey. But they'll find them. I'm sure.." You rub her back, unsure of what else to say.

You hated them with your full being, yes, but you never wanted them to die or anything.

"What happened?" Sam asks walking over and Sophie snaps her head up, "Two of my friends were killed, she just told you, what don't you understand?"

Sam clenches his jaw and Colby walks up, "Whoa. Hey. He just asked what happened."

Sophie rolls her eyes, "Do I need to reword it for you? Nina and Levi were killed. Gutted. I don't u-"

"Okay." You say loudly, cutting her off, "You just need to calm down, for one, and two.. They didn't do anything wrong, just asked what happened and you're snapping their heads off for no reason."

Sophie breaks down again, falling into your lap as she whimpers, "Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry."

Sam and Colby's eyes are on you. The way you stand up for them without any hesitation, no matter who it is, is one of the things they love about you.

They both knew that if you found out, you die for them before they got caught. 

And they were right.

"Exactly." Colby motions to you and sighs as he walks back upstairs. Sam shakes his head, "I'll leave you guys to it, then." He follows Colby and Sophie sits up, "I didn't mean to yell at them."

You hug her head, "I know. It's okay. They know you're under a lot right now."

"I think.. I think I'm going to go down to the police station, to see if I can get any information," she sniffles and looks at you, "Will you come with me?"

"Why don't you come to lunch with us, then we can go? We can talk about everything." You brush her hair from her face and she shakes her head, "i have to go see Eli."

"Eli? As in-"

She cuts you off, "Levi's best friend, yeah. That's who I've been seeing."

You raise your eyebrows, trying not to let your anger answer for you, because as said, she doesn't know he was there that night too, "Is it going good?"

"It was until last night. He won't answer my calls now, so.." she sniffles and stands up, "I'll call you later." You walk after her, "I can drive you if-"

"No. I just need a minute.. to think... about all of this." She lays her head on her hands, sobbing before quickly pulling it together. She walks over, hugging you tight, "I'm so scared."

You wrap your arms around her, "I know. I know. I am too." You rub her back, "They'll figure it out. I promise." She leans back, wiping her face before turning away, "I'll call you then."

"Just come over tonight. Stay here so I know you're safe too." You walk over to the door and she spins around, nodding, "O-okay."

You nod, giving her a small smile, "Okay." You watch as she makes her way to her car and you shut the door, Sam and Colby standing quietly behind you, "Jesus Christ."

You jump and lay a hand on your chest, "I need to put a bell on both of you."

They both laugh and Colby points to the door, "is she okay?"

You nod, "Yeah, she didn't mean to snap on you. It's all still so fresh, I can't imagine what she's going through."

"Did you hate Nina?" Sam asks raising his eyebrow. You nod, "And Levi, but that didn't mean I wanted them to be murdered or anything."

"Yeah, no right. I don't think anyone wishes for just anyone to die." Colby nods, "Did she tell you what happened exactly?"

You pull your phone out, "I can find out. I'm sure the news is alre-" your mouth drops slightly and your hand goes over your mouth as you read the gruesome description of how they were found.

"What, y/n?" Sam asks as he moves over to you, looking down at your phone, "Oh shit."

"Worse than Sophie said it was?" Colby walks over, looking over your shoulder, "Oh.. fuck."

"They said Levi was found out by their pool, taped to a chair and he was.." you cringe, "Literally gutted.." you rest your phone down by your side, "Nina was found the same way just outside in the yard.."

You close your eyes, shaking your head, "I can't imagine what her mom must of felt. She's the one who found them."

"Who ever did that obviously had a resentment towards them.." Colby glances at Sam, "Apparently."

Sam fights off his smirk and wraps his arm around you, "Are you okay?" You nod, "Yeah.. I mean, they bullied the hell out of me, but at the same time.." you take a deep breath, "Karma is a bitch.. I just didn't think of it being this big of one. I'm honestly kind of scared, like there's a killer on the loose and no one knows anything about it."

"It'll be okay." Colby wraps his arm around your shoulders, gripping Sam's hoodie, "you know we won't let anything happen to you."

You didn't remember that they knew about what happened at the party, and they wanted to keep it that way.

"If you don't want to go out, we can just stay here." Sam whispers, "Whatever you want to do."

You sigh, "I really want a wrap from Bardoe's." You laugh slightly and Sam smiles, "then we'll go to Bardoe's."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Hey, y/n."

You set your food down, looking up as your friend, Noel, comes over, "How's Sophie?" She sits down across from you.

You shrug, "As bad as you'd think."

"She about bit my head off when I asked what was happening.," Sam says taking a sip of his drink. You nod, "Yeah, she stopped by before we came here, but she said she had to go see Eli."

She leans back, "Did you just say Eli?"

You nod, "I know, I had the same reaction you did." You laugh slightly, "I mean, to each their own. Her type is just assholes, apparently."

She raises her eyebrows and Henry, Noel's boyfriend comes over and sits down, "Colby. Sam." He nods to them and they nod back. He looks at you, "Y/n."

Henry stopped everything that night and you made him promise not to say a word to anyone, but Sam and Colby already know that, too.

So he's safe.

"How you doing?" He asks and you shrug, "I'm fine, worried about Soph." He nods, "Yeah, her and Eli are taking it pretty hard."

You nod, "I seen her this morning, she said she was going to the police station to ask questions, but I'm sure she'll only find out what they want them to."

You lean back, resting your head on Colby's arm that's extended over the top of the booth.

"How do you even gut someone like that?" Noel asks as she takes some of your fries, "Honestly. It's overkill if you ask me."

Colby shrugs, "The only way I can imagine, is that they took a knife or something sharp, then cut them from groin to sternum.."

Sam looks at Colby, "Hey. It's called tact, fucking idiot."

Colby holds his hand up, "I'm just saying that it would be an awful way to die." You stare at the table, nodding as you think about the pain they endured.

You hated it, but that little sick and twisted part inside of you liked it. You liked that they endured more pain than they had caused you, but you still felt bad.

"I heard they found her liver in the mailbox, how sick is that?" Henry says changing the subject, "Next to her spleen or some other organ."

"Oh that's so gross, I'm trying to eat y/n's fries, Henry. Stop it." Noel groans and pushes him. Colby smirks, "Yeah Henry, liver alone." He laughs and you look over at him, trying not to laugh.

Sam reaches behind you, smacking Colby's shoulder, "Dude."

"What? It's a joke, let her, liver? Liv-er alone?" He laughs with Henry and you just shake your head.

"Henry. Did you used to date Noel?" Colby points towards him. Noel looks at Henry and he laughs, "Yeah, until I found out just how psycho she was."

"What do you mean?" You look up at him.

He shrugs, "She was just nuts. I couldn't talk to anyone because I was-" he puts air quotes, "Cheating."

"Were you?" Noel looks at him and he looks at her, "Not at all." He looks at Sam, "Didn't you know Levi?"

Sam shakes his head, "Not like you'd think. I played basketball with him, but he was always a preppy everyone needs to love me kinda person and I couldn't be around that."

Henry raises his eyebrows and Sam tilts his head, "What? You think I did it?" He leans forward, resting his hands on the table, "I didn't kill anybody."

"No body said you did." Colby stares at Sam and he tilts his head smiling at Colby, "Aw, thanks buddy."

You rest your hand on his arms "Sam, that's not what he's saying. We all know you didn't. You have no reason to."

Noel laughs, "Yeah Sam, just because you and Colby hunt ghosts, that doesn't mean you could pull something like this off."

Henry laughs, "Right. That's how I know it wasn't you."

You can tell Colby is getting pissed because Henry just basically accused him of killing people, and honestly you were, too.

"Alright, I think it's time we leave. Yeah?" You look at Noel, "You should come over later. Soph is going to be there."

She nods, "I'll call you then." She stands up, pulling Henry up with her, quietly yelling at him about saying what he did to Sam.

You turn to Sam, "Are you okay?"

He nods and looks over at you, "Do you think I did it?" You shake your head, "As I said, you'd have no reason to." He takes a deep breath, "If he starts saying shit like that, I'll be the one they throw behind bars."

"I won't let that happen." You and Colby say in unison, causing Sam to smile. You smile and lean in, "I promise, I won't let anything happen to you." You lean over to Colby, "Or you." You sit straight, "Because I like whatever this is."

"We like it too." Sam pulls you in, kissing your head as he stares at Colby, "Let's get out of here."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Hello?" You say as you pick up your phone.

"Hello, is this y/n?" A man on the other end of the phone asks. You sit up, "May I ask who's calling?"

The man on the phone chuckles softly, "Right, yes. My name is Officer Tylers. I'm calling to see if you'd come down to the station to answer some questions for us."

"About the murders?" You pinch the bridge of your nose and he sighs, "Yes. So if you could, the sooner the better, but no rush. I know this is a-"

You cut him off, "I'll be right there,"

"Great. Thank you."

You hang up and sigh before yelling, "Colby." He jogs down the steps, "What's up, babe?" You smiles slightly and stand up, "I just got off the phone with an Officer Tylers. They want me to come down and answer some questions."

He raises his eyebrows, "Really?"

You shrug, "I don't know why.. I just.." you sit back down and Colby walks over, sitting next to you, "Hey. You'll be okay. They probably are just doing a routine questioning to everyone she went to school with. I'm sure Sam and I are next to be questioned."

You laugh slightly, "Might as well just come with me." You look around, "Where's Sam?"

"He went to meet the guy to talk about our next investigation." He tucks hair behind your ear, "You're so pretty."

You smile and tilt your head, "Why didn't you go with him?" He smiles, "I figured you didn't want to be left alone."

You nod, "Yeah, you're right. I just have to text Soph and Noel to let them know i won't be here for a little bit."

"I'll text Sam, let him know that we're going to the station." Colby takes his phone out, tapping his screen quickly. You text Sophie and Noel, letting them know exactly what's going on.

"I told them the key is under the mat if they get here before we get back." You look up at Colby, "Is that okay?"

He looks up and nods, "Yeah that's fine. Are you ready?" You nod and stand up, "What did Sam say?" Colby shakes his head as he slides his phone back into his pocket, "Just said to be careful."

"He doesn't have to worry about that." You laugh and grab Colby's keys, handing them to him, "Here ya go." He takes them from you and pulls you into him, "Everything is going to be okay."

You smile, "Thank you for being so calm through all of this, I'm actually freaking out on the inside." He chuckles, "I know. I think you're forgetting I can read you like a book, y/n."

You lick your lips, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours as he pulls your body closer.

The door opens and Sam walks through, stopping when he sees you and Colby, "Whoa, whoa." He laughs and walks over, wrapping his arm around your waist, "Excuse me."

You laugh slightly and look up at him, "I thought you were meeting with that guy?" He nods, "Yeah, it was an easy meet up, he wants us to investigate there, so he was excited."

"So it's set then?" Colby asks and Sam nods, "It's set."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Wish me luck." You mumble before reaching for the door handle. Sam and Colby both wish you luck and you get out, taking a deep breath before crossing the street.

"Hi, how can I help you?" The lady behind the glass asks and you rest your hands on the counter, "I got a um.. call from an Officer Richards. He told me to come down to answer some questions."

She nods, "Y/n y/l/n right?"

You nod, "Yep. That's me."

"You can have a seat right over there, I'll let him know you're here." You mumble a quiet, "thank you," before walking over to the chair and sitting down.

Not even a minute later, a tall man dressed in a police uniform walks over to you, "Y/n?"

You look up at him, immediately pissed, "Yes." You stand up and shake his hand, "Been a while.. You can come with me this way." You follow him through the barracks and into a room with only a table and four chairs.

"Have a seat. Do you need anything? Want anything? Water, coffee?"

You look up at him from the chair and shake your head, "No, thank you. I'm good."

"Alright, we'll just jump right into this then." He sits across from you after closing the door, "Did you know Nina and Levi?"

"Why are you questioning me? Isn't that conflict of interest or whatever?" You cross your arms over your chest and he shakes his head, "Not technically family, so no. Anyway, did you know Nina and Levi?"

You tilt your head, "I did, but I wasn't really liked by them."

"Can you elaborate on that for me, please? What do you mean exactly? Why didn't they like you?" He scribbles down notes on the notepad.

"I'm friends with Sophie Frank, and she's friends- or was friends.. with Nina, and Sophie and I are so different, I think she thought I ruined the popular girl image, and eventually just pushed me out." You explain, "And Levi, well he was the quarterback of the football team and got a college scholarship, so he was Mr. Popularity."

"Were you jealous of that?"

You laugh slightly, "Excuse me?"

He holds his hand up, "I know that sounds bad, but it's just routine or whatever you want to call it. Let me reword it.." he thinks for a moment and looks back up at you, "Were you jealous that Sophie was friends with her? How did her pushing you out make you feel?"

"I mean I didn't really like it, so I just stopped hanging around Sophie when I knew there was a chance Nina would be there, but I didn't want her to die if that's what you're getting at." You stare at him and he nods as he scribbles some more, "I liked Nina, we were friends before high school, but high school really changes a person I guess."

"Did it change you?" He asks right away, "I mean, you didn't go to college, correct?"

You shake your head, "No, but what-"

"You're living with two guys who do videos, both are handsome looking dudes, you didn't feel.. I don't know.. threatened by Nina in anyway?"

You scoff at his question, "No, Officer Tylers. I was not threatened by Nina."

"Where were you last night?" He leans back in his chair and you sigh, "I was home. Asleep by ten with Sam and Colby."

"They were there?" He tilts his head, "They didn't leave the house?"

You clench your jaw, sighing because you don't like to talk about your private business, especially with people like Officer Tylers, "They were in bed, with me, until about seven this morning. They went for a run."

"And that's normal? What time did they get back?"

"Yes." You sigh, "Sam is training for a marathon, and Colby likes working out." You shrug, "About eight thirty." You sigh, "Are we done? Can we be done please?"

"Almost." He holds up his finger and scribbles down more words, "Is ghost hunting all Sam and Colby do? Do you join them sometimes? I've never seen their videos beside so I don't really know."

"Besides doing photo shoots for their merch launches and making their own coffee, yeah. That's all they do."

He's quiet for a few moments before he looks up, "Don't leave town, stay in touch if you see anything, but yeah. Were done. For now." You stand up and he grabs your arm, "Just be careful, y/n. Your dad told me to look after you, and that's exactly what I'm trying to do."

You pull your arm away, "Well, you're not my dad so." You walk away and he stands up, watching as an officer leads you to the front of the building.

Officer Tylers, better known as Dave Tylers, was your dad's best friend and your dad told him, on his death bed, that he was to make sure you were okay.

You've always gotten weird vibes from him, even when you were younger, so you kept your distance.

You get into the car, plopping down with a sigh, "That was fucking pathetic."

"What happened?" Sam asks as they both turn around to face you. You shake your head, "We can talk about it at home. I need to make sure that fucker didn't bug me."

"Huh?" Sam whips back around as Colby drives off and you laugh slightly, "The officer that questioned me was.." you sigh, "He's who my dad asked to look after me. I just get a weird feeling with him, so I've kept my distance and he was like, asking me if I was at home in bed with you two last night. Like it was just weird."

Colby clenches his jaw, "You don't owe anyone an explanation about us."

"I know, Colby. I felt like I had to because of the way he was drilling me with question after question." You thud back against the seat, "I just don't understand who would want to actually go through and kill someone, let alone two people at once."

You rest your head back, thinking about the answers you gave Dave. Anxious because you lied, you guys were drinking and you got a little too wasted, passing out, so you weren't really sure if they went to bed when you did, but it doesn't matter because one, Dave didn't need to know that, and two, Sam and Colby aren't killers, they're ghost hunters.

"Did you guys go to bed with me last night?" You ask kinda quiet and Colby looks back at you in the rearview, "Of course we did. We wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I mean, I edited our latest video a little bit after you fell asleep but I was only down at the end of the bed." Sam looks back at you, "Are you doubting us, ms y/l/n?"

You laugh and shake your head, "No, no. Dave just gets under my skin and I don't know, I hate him."

Sam and Colby glance at each other, looking away before you look back up at them, "Sorry. I just-"

"You don't ever need to apologize to us, y/n." Sam smiles back at you, reaching for your hand, "I promise, everything is okay."

You take his hand and watch as he pulls you towards him, bringing your hand to his lips, "We got you."

You smile at him, jumping slightly as your phone rings. You look down, hitting the green button, "Hey Soph, I'm on my way-"

"Eli got arrested. They think he had something to do with Nina and Levi." She says frantic, "I'm not going to be able to come over tonight. I'm sorry."

"No, no hey. It's okay. Take deep breathes a- hello?" You pull your phone away seeing she ended the call, "Okay, bye to you, too."

"What's going on, babe?" Colby asks glancing over his shoulder. You sigh as you shrug, "I guess they think Eli did it. Soph didn't tell me much, all she said was Eli got arrested, she won't be able to come tonight and that she's heading to the station and hung up."

You text Noel, Eli got arrested. They think he had something to do with the murders.

"You're only trying to help her, I really don't understand why she's being this way towards you." Sam says, "She's only going to get hurt if she keeps messing around with Eli."

"You don't have to tell me." You roll your eyes, "She changed, and I'm not saying that's bad thing, but I've definitely been put on the back burner.."

"Hey." Sam lays his hand on your knee, Colby parks in the driveway and does the same. You look up at them and Sam smiles, "If they don't come tonight, screw them. If they can't see that you're only trying to help, then that's on them."

You lay your hands on theirs, "I don't know if I told you guys this lately, but I love you both so very much and I am so glad that we're whatever this is." You smirk slightly and Colby squeezes your knee, "You're our girl, what can we say?"

You smile and get out of the car, walking inside, "We should just have a movie night, chill out. Forget that we're living in fear right now." You set your bag down and turn towards them, "What do ya say?"

"I say.." Colby walks over, grabbing your hand and spinning you into him, "Let's do it."

"I second that. Or third that in this case." Sam laughs as he presses a kiss to your temple, "Now go change into something comfy then we can get this party started."

You smile all the way up to the top of the steps. You can hear Sam and Colby whispering but you think nothing of it.

You're in a mood.

A mood for them.

You throw on a bigger tee, no pants, and walk back down the steps. Their eyes immediately on you and you blush, "What?" You walk past them to the couch and they follow you like a magnet.

"Where do you think you're going?" Colby asks as he sits beside you, Sam on the other. You smirk, "You said to change into something comfy, and I'm most comfortable without pants."

"I think you got comfy confused with sexy, there babe" Sam bites his lip as he drags his hand up your back. You lean back slowly and Colby pulls you back against his chest, "Makes me want to rip you apart."

His words send a shiver of excitement down your spine, "Do it." His hands slide down, raising your shirt with his fingers, "The way Sam is looking at you right now.." Colby tilts head up to look at Sam, "I think he wants to."

Your eyes meet Sam's stare, "Please."

Colby spreads your legs, one pushed up against the back of the couch and he has his hand under the knee of your other, holding it up.

Sam moves in, kissing down your neck and under your boobs until he reaches the top of your panties. He bites them, pulling his head back and letting go so they snap against your skin.

Your breath hitches and Colby chuckles deeply in your ear, "You like that, baby girl?"

You nod, whimpering as Sam kisses up your thigh and pressing his lips to your pantie covered clit, "So much."

"Can you beg for him? Hmm.." Colby gently bites down on your earlobe, "Tell him what you want."

"I want you to eat my pussy." You moan as he presses another kiss to your clothed clit, "Please, Sam.." you whimper, "Please."

Sam looks up at you, pulling your panties to the side and runs his finger against your soaked slit, "Someone needs us."

You nod, "I do.. yes.."

"Say it again, baby." Colby whispers, eyes meeting Sam's as you moan out to the feeling of Sam's fingers dipping deep inside of you, "I need you."

Colby slides his hand down, gently massaging your clit as Sam slowly pushes and pulls his fingers in and out, "You're so fucking wet."

"No one is ever allowed to touch you again, got it?" Colby gently bites your neck and you moan out, "No one but you and Sam."

Sam reaches up, turning your head so you look at him, "Who's pussy is this?"

You furrow your brows as you feel your orgasm coming on, "Oh fuck." You whimper, "You and Colby's."

"Say my name, baby." Sam bites his lip as he works up to a faster pace, causing you to clench around his fingers, "Sam and Colby's."

Your back arches off of Colby's chest and you moan, "Fuck, fuck." Colby adds more pressure, "Cum for us, baby."

You roll your hips slowly, growing closer and closer until there's frantic knocking on your door, "Y/n!"

You don't want to stop, but you reach down to grab Sam's wrist but Colby grabs your hand, pinning it to the back of the couch, "Don't try it. You're going to cum first."

Your eyes roll back as you work back up to where you were, biting your lip to muffle your moans.

The knocking and pounding on the door continues and Sam curls his fingers just right, sending you overboard. You grind your hips against their hands, pressing the back of your head into Colby's shoulder.

"Good girl." Colby reaches up, gripping your chin so he can kiss you. Sam pulls his fingers out and brings them to his own lips, "Were not done." He says with a smirk.

You smirk and shake your head, completely forgetting about someone at the door. You jump up, fixing your panties as you walk to the door, "Who is it?"

"Fucking Sophie. Now open up."

You open the door and she barges in, "Someone fucking planted shit on Eli, I swear to god." She paces back and forth, "I don't.. oh fuck.. I don't know what to do.."

"Well, if you would have listened to me before you hung up on me, I told you to breathe so why don't you try doing just that?" You walk over to the fridge, grabbing her a water and handing it to her.

"What if this was Colby? Hmm?"

"Does no one believe that I'm capable of murder?" Sam holds his arms out and laughs, causing you to smile, "Of course we do sweetie." You look back at Sophie, "No I know. It's easier said than done. I was a mess when Colby got arrested and no one knew what was happening."

"He got arrested for trespassing and having fake id's, y/n. That nothing compared to what Eli is possibly facing." Sophie sets her water down and sits on the stool, "Eli didn't do this."

"If anyone isn't capable of murder, it's him, Soph. You don't have anything to worry about. Where was he last night?"

She shrugs, "he was home."

"And you're sure of that?" You tilt your head slightly, "Why didn't you tell the police that?" She sighs, "They said they'll talk to me once they're done questioning him. This apparently is a big fucking thing because every cop is out patrolling every area around here."

You look over at Sam and Colby who are quietly talking to each other and back to her, "Well do you to-"

"Why don't you come with me? We're going back to Nina's, well sneaking back there so we can try and figure this out ourselves? We can meet Noel at her place?"

You shake your head, "I just really wanted to stay in tonight, kinda the reason as to why I told you and Noel to come here."

"Don't you want to help find the killer? I understand you didn't like Levi and Nina, but at the same time.. don't you want to help find who did it?" She looks at you and you just stare at her.

"Fine." She throws her hands up and walks towards the door, "I'm just saying.. if you showed up missing or dead, Nina would help figure it out too, she wasn't as bad as you thought."

Yes she was. You wanted to tell her in that moment just how bad they both were, but you just watched her leave.

You look over at Sam and Colby who are staring at you, unhappy about the interaction, "You okay?" Sam asks standing up, "That was uncalled for." He motions towards the door.

You shrug, "I just don't think Levi and Nina were good enough people for me to put life at risk, you know what i mean?"

Sam walks over, pulling you in for a hug, "I know, sweetheart. It's okay. Everyone deals with these things differently and it's okay."

Colby walks up, pressing a kiss to your temple, "Fuck em."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Later that night, as you're sitting on the couch, Colby lets out a groan, "My head is killing me."

"Aw. Did you take anything?" You reach over and gently scratch the back of his neck. He shakes his head slightly, "No, but I think I'm going to and then I'm going to head up to bed." He stands up, bending down to kiss your forehead, "I love you."

You smile and lay your hand on his cheek, "I love you." You press your lips to his and lean back, "You guys ate awfully lovey dovey lately."

You look between them and they smile, "Can't help it if we're just happy when we're around you." Colby punches your chin gently, "Wake me up for your run in the morning, Sam."

Sam nods, "You got it, bro."

As of right now, it was Sam's job to distract you. Make you forget about the world for a little while.

"Why don't we..." he slides his hand up your bare thigh, "Pick up where we left off?" You bit your lip, turning towards him, "Won't Colby feel left out?"

He shakes his head, pulling you to him, "We made a deal, I get you now. He gets you tomorrow morning."

You bite your lip, leaning in. You stop just as your lips are about to touch his, "So you have a schedule?" Sam chuckles and presses his lips to yours, "Only trying to keep it fair, you know how we get."

You stand up, "Take me to bed, Mr. Golbach."

Sam stands up and takes your hand, "If I ever say no to that, make sure I'm the one who's gutted next." You perk up slightly, but not from fear.

Something about his words makes you wet, "I'll give you something to murder." You both laugh at your words, "Someone is feeling frisky."

You bite your lip, "Maybe a little." Sam slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing, "Let's go." You pull him with you up the stairs, going into his room and shutting the door.

His hands slip you out of the tee, tossing it on the ground and looking at your bare chest, "You're so fucking hot." He lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he walks you over to the bed.

Colby quietly sneaks out of his room, making sure to shut the door as quietly as possibly before making his way down the steps and out the front door.

"Sam.." you whimper, "I need you."

He pulls away from kissing your neck, "I want to taste you first, babe. Can you be a good girl and let me do that?"

You smirk and nod your head, "Yes."

"That's my girl." He winks and kisses down your body, making your breath hitch as he sucks little marks into the skin under your boobs and down your stomach, "Don't tease."

"That's my favorite part, besides hearing you beg for me." His fingers brush over your clit and you gasp quietly, spreading your legs further apart, "Sam.."

Colby makes his way to where they parked their car before, slightly deep in the woods, but with an easy exit. He takes a deep breathe before getting out of the car and stalking through the woods towards the house, mask on and ready to kill.

For you.

Sam slowly pulls your panties down, too slow for your liking. You go to take your legs out and Sam crawls up, "I want to take my time with you, y/n. Been a bit since I had you to myself."

You melt into him, nodding, "Sorry."

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours, "You don't ever have to be sorry. You're impatient, you need to be touched. I get that." He smiles down at you, "I'm going to do just that, okay?"

You nod and watch as he moves down your body, "I just want to take you in for a minute." He kisses down your thighs, making you wetter with each kiss.

Colby takes the burner from his pocket, dialing a number.

"Hello?" Henry picks up the phone.

"What are you doing back here?"  Colby asks in the low raspy tone from the voice changer, "You guys shouldn't be back here."

Colby watches Henry spin around in circles, "Who- yo. Who the hell is this?" He stops and looks at his phone, but no luck, "What a bitch, calling me from a restricted number, you know what. If you're trying to scare me, it ain't gunna work, dude."

"What if I told you I knew who killed that bitch and her liar boyfriend, hmm?" Colby slowly makes his way around to the side of the house.

You moan, rolling your hips against Sam's face, "Fuck, fuck. Sam, I-I.." you arch your back, moaning out as you cum around his tongue, "Fuck, fuck fuck." You whimper and tangle your fingers in his hair, "Yes, yes, yes."

"How do you know that?" Henry asks and walks over to where Colby killed Levi, the dark red mark from his guts dripping still stained on the concrete, "Did you do it?"

"I did. And it felt so fucking good." Colby chuckles lowly, "He died like a bitch."

"Fuck you. I'm not do-"

"You leave that spot and your girlfriend dies next." Colby threatens, "Now, I want you to tell me something."

"What." Henry scoffs.

"What is one of your biggest secrets, Henry? I know you probably have a lot of skeletons in that dusty closet of yours."  Colby moves around, still making sure to have eyes on the house with Noel and Sophie in it, and Henry.

"I don't have any." Henry laughs, "Honest."

"Fucking liar. Do you want to die just like Levi?"

"N-no. No." He keeps his voice quiet, "Fine." Henry takes a deep breath, "I cheated on Noel, okay."

That's not what Colby was expecting to hear, "You're pathetic, just like Levi."

Henry freaks out quietly, "Fuck you. I'm nothing like Levi okay."

"Oh yeah? Do tell." Colby pulls his knife out, "I'd love to know how you were better than him."

"Again, baby. I want you to cum on my face again." Sam moves up, lying down as he pulls you to sit on his face.

"I don't know what has gotten into you.." you look down at him, running your fingers through his hair, "But I like it." He smirks up at you and pulls your hips down to meet his face, his tongue lapping at your clit.

You grip the headboard, leaning forward as you're engulfed in the pleasure once again.

"I don't just go around, throwing myself onto girls who are way too drunk to say yes or no. Okay. Is that what you wanted to hear?" He spins around, looking to see if anyone else is around.

"You're still pathetic, cheating on your girlfriend.." Colby tsks a few times, "Still doesn't make you a good guy."

"Fuck. Sam.." your legs start to shake and your eyes roll back, pulling his hair as you cum again, "F-fuck." Sam eats you out through your orgasm, heightening it in a way that's never happened before, "S-shit."

You roll off of him, laying on your back as he rolls on top of you, "Such a good fucking girl." He crashes his lips on yours and you moan against his lips as your tongue swipes the taste of yourself off his lips.

Colby moves once he knows the girls in the house won't see, and quickly grabs Henry, covering his mouth with his glove covered hand and stabs him in the back a few times quickly, before spinning him around to slit his throat.

He stares at him for a few seconds as Henry gargles and chokes on his own blood before pushing him back, his body splashing into the pool, turning the clear water red.

"Fucking bitch." Colby mumbles before disappearing into the night, listening to the screams of horror, which can only mean that he has to get the hell out of dodge.

Sam gets up, stripping his clothes off before moving back to lay between your thighs. Your knees rest against his hips and you look up at him, "I love you."

"You have no idea how much I love you." Sam whispers and pushes his cock into you, groaning out as he interlocks his hand with yours and squeezes it, "You have no idea."

Colby starts driving, a smirk resting on his lips as the thought of what he did and why he did it.

Over and over again, the vision of Henry falling lifeless into the pool thrills him.

Henry disrespected Sam, so this kill wasn't just for you this time.

"I could do this all day." Sam groans lowly, "All night." He kisses down your neck as he slowly thrusts into you, trying to hold himself off for as long as he can, "You drive me fucking insane. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."

"I'd die for you." You cup his cheek with your free hand, "You and Colby, you both.." you arch your back, moaning as you approach another orgasm, "I love you both so.." you gasp, arching your back, squeezing his hand, "So fucking much."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his cock hits that sweet little spot each time he slides in, "S-Sam."

You moan out loudly, squeezing his cock tightly with your walls, "Fu-" you basically scream for him, clawing up his back as you cum.

He groans, thrusting all the way into you, "Fuck, as much as I love when you do that, don't." He kisses your lips, "I don't want to cum yet."

Colby pulls into the driveway and makes his way back inside, closing the door quietly. It was times like this where they were very thankful that you wanted a house that was kind of secluded from everything else.

You left your phone downstairs on the coffee table, so you didn't know it was blowing up with missed calls and texts from both Noel and Sophie.

Colby walks over, picking it up to look at the notifications on the lock screen, smirking as he reads the messages,

Soph: FUCKING ANSWER ME

Soph: HENRY IS DEAD

Soph: HELLO PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE

Missed Call Soph (25)

"Fucking. Bitches." Colby mumbles and sits down on the couch, waiting until he knows you and Sam are finished.

Sam pushes his cock all the way in, pumping his cum deep into you with a moan, "Fuck." He sighs with a smile, "You, my love, are absolutely perfect."

You smile up at him, only to have the door bursted open with Colby running in, "You phone is blowing up, babe."

He hands you the phone and your heart sinks, "No. no, no. No. No." You cover your mouth, fumbling around to call Soph.

"What happened?" Sam asks looking at Colby.

"Henry is dead." Colby shakes his head with a sad look on his face.

"Now you wanna fucking call me back?" Sophie yells and you clench your jaw, "I can't really answer when I'm asleep. Now stop being a bitch and tell me what the fuck is going on."

She's taken aback but you calling her out and she sighs, "Henry was killed, y/n. While Noel and I were in the fucking house.. Henry was fucking... killed." Her voice cracks and you can't help but to feel guilty, "I should have been there."

"No, it's not your fault it my fault. We shouldn't have came here. He tried to talk us out of it, but Noel and I pushed.." her voice cracks, "Fuck. I-I don't.. Noel is a mess. I don't.. oh my god.. can you come get me?"

"Yeah, no of course I can. I'll be right there." You hang up and stand up. You grab a sweatshirt and sweatpants, throwing them on before looking around, "Henry is dead?"

"I'm sorry, babe." Colby pulls you into his chest. You wanted to cry, but you felt like you couldn't, "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know.." Colby sighs, "Starting to freak me out, too."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Sam asks standing up and you look at him, "Yeah, please." You look up at Colby, "How's your head?"

He sighs, "Still hurts, but I thought you needed to know this."

"Thank you. Now go back to bed. I'll let you know what's going on."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You held onto Sam's hand the entire way to the scene. You squeezed his hand the more the blue and red lights filled your view.

The coroner loading the zipped up body bag into the van.

The police talking to Noel and Sophie.

Your heart was racing.

"This is awful.." you mumble as tears well up in your eyes, "Fuck.." you wipe your face and take a deep breath, "I'm going to get Sophie and see where Noel is going."

Sam nods, "I'll be here."

As soon as you get out of the car, you're greeted by Officer Tylers, "Isn't it a bit late for you?"

You roll your eyes, walking past him as you make your way to the girls, "I'm so sorry." You whisper and they both fall into you, sobbing hysterically, trying to speak but it's just mumbles and gasps for air.

Tears stream down your face, "We're going to figure this out. I promise." You lay your hands on the back of their heads, "Come on." You look at the officer, "Are they.. can we go?"

The officer nods, "Yeah, they're good."

You walk them to Sam's car, and of course, Dave is still standing there, "Get home safe now." You ignore him as you help the girls get in, Sam talks to them as you turn to get up front.

"Hey, y/n. Where were you tonight?"

Without any hesitation, "I was home, getting railed by my boyfriends." You shoot him a glare, "Now leave me alone." You get back into the car and Dave walks around to Sam's window, tapping on it.

Sam sighs, rolling it down slightly, "Can I help you, Officer?"

"go easy on this one. She's been through enough already, alright?" Dave motions towards you and Sam keeps his lips together, giving him a forced smile, "No need to worry about that. She's in good hands."

You avoid looking at him the entire time Sam turns around in the driveway, "That dude is a fucking creep."

"Was that Dave?" Sophie sniffles, "I didn't know he was an officer here."

You nod, "Neither did I until he questioned me at the station yesterday."

"That dude has always been weird with you." Sophie adds, which catches Sam's attention, "How so?" You shake your head, "We don't need to talk about that right now. Please?"

Sam gives you the, we'll talk about it later, look and takes your hand into his as he focuses on driving you guys back to the house.

It was quiet, all but the sniffles and sobs from the girls in the back. The whole time, you kept thinking about why you didn't really feel remorse for Nina, Levi, and now Henry.

It surprised you. You were usually a person who cared so much, and now you're putting on an act so no one questions you.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Sophie says from the back seat. Sam looks at her in the rear view, "For snapping at you and Colby. You guys were just trying to figure out what happened and I didn't need to be a bitch."

Sam shakes his head, "no worries, Soph."

"I'm going to tell Colby, too. You guys didn't deserve that." Sophie leans back, rubbing Noel's back, "Are you okay?"

"I think I'm going to puke." Noel lays a hand over your mouth and Sam stops right as she opens the door, spitting on the ground outside.

You turn around, holding onto the seat as you reach out, holding what you can reach of her hair back, "Let it out. It's okay."

Sam admires how caring you are of your friends, the people you love. But to him, that's not an invitation for them to take advantage of that, be nasty then expect her to pick up right where they left off, forgetting it even happened.

Sam believes you're too good for everyone in this town. Hell, him and Colby sometimes tell each other that you're too good for them, but you make them realize that they need you, without even realizing it yourself.

They're obsessed with you.

Your body.

Your personality.

The way you carry yourself, even on the worst days.

You're the reason Sam and Colby get up everyday.

You're the reason as to why they started killing.

At first, they wouldn't have even thought about committing a murder, but once the words about what happened left your drunken lips, they vowed that from that day on, you weren't ever going to get hurt again, and if you did, they'll hurt who hurt you, ten times over.

Henry's death was more personal, as said. He disrespected Sam, and that's not something you do when Colby is around.

They've fantasized together about you killing with them. Thinking about seeing you pull one of their knives out, plunging it deep it into someone flesh and twisting.

I wasn't until you tapped Sam's cheek, snapping him out of his thoughts that he realized he was staring, "Hmm. Sorry." He chuckles slightly and faces forward, starting to drive once your back in your seat correctly.

His hand goes to your leg, and he squeezes. You bite your lip, laying your hand over his.

"Who would want to kill Henry?" Noel whispers as she starts to sob, "Why him? He didn't do anything wrong." Her hands fall into her lap and she leans on Sophie, "I loved him."

"I know you did." Sophie sniffles, "We all loved Henry. He was such an asshole, but he was one of the funny, good assholes."

You laugh slightly, "Yeah, that he was."

"You guys hungry or anything?" Sam asks looking back and they shake their heads. Noel laughs slightly, "I don't think I'm ever eating again, honestly."

"I've never seen a dead body, and the fact-" Sophie takes a sharp breath, trying not to cry again, "I'm so mad."

You thought it was a little strange that Sophie was so distraught, like yes. They were all friends and always hung out, but she's acting like it was her boyfriend that died.

"Any news on Eli?" You look back at Soph and she nods, "Nope. Still in holding." You frown, "Well they can't hold him. He obviously didn't do this because Henry died while he was in there."

She nods, "You're right. They can't keep him because this proves it wasn't him." She sighs, "Fuck. This whole thing is a fucking mess."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

PART TWO

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[thedreamlessnights]

Fixation

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: When a mistranslated ancient spell goes wrong, you're forced to suffer the consequences. Astarion takes a keen interest in your... predicament.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac spell, Spawn!Tav, established relationship, possessiveness. Brief referrals to the Rite of Profane Ascension and Cazador. Fingering, oral sex (receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms, slightly rough sex. Brief overstimulation, praise, mild degradation, uses of the terms 'pet' and 'consort.'

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: And here's the second of my parallel aphrodisiac fics for Non-Ascended vs. Ascended Astarion! It was honestly very interesting to write the differences between them. The Non-Ascended one is much softer than this - please mind the tags!

The book must be hundreds of years old, but it feels warm in your hands. You’ve perused it inside and out, practically memorizing the faded runes. Fixation. It’s a weakness of yours. 

Still, how often is it that you find an ancient book of spells? Who knows if you might discover some long-lost secret buried within the pages. And, yes: you’re bored. 

Your messy translations are not ideal for this sort of thing, which is exactly why you’ve chosen a basic spell to start with. It’s mid-afternoon, quiet and still, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the room. 

The long-forgotten words flow from your mouth like honey - as if they’ve been waiting for centuries just to be said. Light and sweet, they settle into the room and linger for just a moment. Some spells can be felt in the very air, manifesting as an electric haze that tickles the lungs, but not this one. When the sound of your voice fades away, the only sign that the spell has worked is a gentle heat that settles in your skin.

For a long moment, you kneel, studying the small scrape on your finger and waiting for something to happen. If you’d translated correctly, this should have been a basic healing spell with enough capacity to mend small cuts and burns. An increasingly pleasant heat builds in your veins, but the scrape remains untouched.

It should have worked by now. But if it wasn’t a healing spell, then…

Your eyes turn back to the pages, flickering between the references you’d found and the runes. Something connects. A line you hadn’t seen. A word you hadn’t added. The runes on the page - they’re not for healing, like you’d thought. But if they don’t mean health, then…

You stare at it a moment longer.

Lust. 

“Oh. Oh, gods.”

You rise to your feet like you’ve been slapped. The heat is bearable for now but growing incessantly, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. No counterspell. No healing potion. Anything you try could just as well make it worse. Which poses the question: what the hells are you going to do?

You suck in a deep breath.

First things first: you need to get out of this room. The air is feeling like it might strangle you. 

The chill of the hall greets you sweetly as you pace up and down the walkway, weighing your options. A spell this simple shouldn’t last long. It’ll most likely linger for only a few hours, then dissipate. It doesn’t seem dangerous. It’s not painful. Not yet, at least.

You could lock yourself in the cellar for the night, but that isn’t exactly appealing. The bedroom wouldn’t work, either. It’s Astarion’s room too, after all.

Astarion. Just the thought of him sends sparks flaring through you. It ladles heat into a very pleasant spot in your abdomen, and something flutters deep in your gut. Gods, what you wouldn’t give for him to be touching you.

But he cannot find out about this. By the hells, he can’t ever find out, because if he does, you will never live this down. Which leaves two options: you can either go to dinner and attempt to act like you’re fine, or you can try to hide away in one of the rooms and wait it out. 

Neither one is ideal. Being physically near him, he’ll be able to read you like a book - which makes dinner a very dangerous concept. But if you neglect to show up at all? He’ll be even more suspect. He’ll certainly seek you out and find out the truth in the end.

So. Dinner it is. 

You’ll just have to keep yourself composed, somehow. If only doing was as easy as thinking. But do you really have a choice?

No, you think. 

You don’t.

As soon as he’s through the door, Astarion’s eyes are on you. They always seem to be, these days. Ever since the Ascension. His dark consort, his right hand. His, for whatever he wants. He never seems to see you like he used to, but the sting of that faded long ago. Another thing lost to the ritual.

“Hello, my treasure,” he greets.

You offer him a smile as he takes your hand, pressing a kiss to the skin. You can only hope he doesn’t notice the fear in your eyes or the way you’re trembling. 

The gods must be on your side, because he’s distracted. The moment he releases you, he’s talking with a servant about something or other. You can barely keep up with the politics of the city on a normal day, much less on one with flaming lust in your stomach.

So you follow him to the table like a puppet, moving to your usual seat opposite his. It seems much closer together than usual. Everything does. He could be across the room, and you’d still feel like he was at your side, his breath at your neck. You’re almost grateful that the near-only things you can consume are blood and wine, because your trembling fingers are not fit to handle a knife.

After you’ve taken your seat, you have to put all of your attention into holding your glass. You’d try to act natural, but you can’t even remember what that feels like anymore. Does your skin look cold enough? Is your smile convincing? Is the picture you’re painting compelling, or will your imperfections give you away?

For a moment, Astarion’s attentions are focused on his papers. Then, with a sigh, he sets them aside and looks at you. He seems bored, more than anything. Not suspicious yet. “And how was your day, pet?” he asks.

Your grip tightens around your glass. “Good,” you manage to say. “I found a new book in the library.”

He raises a brow. “Did you?”

You nod, attempting to bury yourself in a sip of wine, but it doesn’t work. The more he looks at you, the more the feeling grows. Your hands are slick. Your mind feels clouded over. 

“A - ah, book of poetry.” Your voice shakes as you speak, and the betrayal of it is like a dagger in your chest.

He sets down his knife and fork. 

Already? you think, lightheaded and humiliated. Gods - you’d known he’d likely catch on sooner or later, but, really? Not even two minutes in? It’s pathetic.

But you aren’t going to give in yet. Astarion may have the winning card in his hand, but you’re determined to play this game for all it’s worth. So you set down the wine, fold your hands in your lap as if you aren’t struggling with keeping still, and give him your prettiest smile.

The glint in his eye grows. “Really?” he purrs, tilting his head. “I didn’t know you liked poetry.”

And as soon as he’s spoken, his voice is in your mind - words you’d thought you’d forgotten, pressing to the front of your thoughts. 

It’s a poem. A gift from Cazador.

The first time you’d seen his scars. 

“I…” Your voice chokes, and you swallow hard. “I don’t read it often. But I enjoy it, sometimes.”

He hums in response. His eyes are fixed on yours like a predator - watching your every move. Every blink. Every swallow. Every tremble. He’s waiting for you to break. 

You don’t. Not yet.

“And you?” you ask. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know how it is,” he muses, his hand gesturing indifferently. “The usual.”

But you don’t know how it is. He hasn’t told you a word about his work, and you’ve never invited yourself into it. He leans back in his seat, and his expression molds into something complacent as you struggle to find the right thing to say.

You decide that wine on your tongue will be much better than words. It’s rich and dark, mildly bitter, and heady. It lingers for a long moment after you’ve drunk, sloshing around your glass as you swirl it.

The end is coming. Your body is fighting you tooth and nail. Your hands are shaking, your mouth is dry, and your head is foggy. Setting the wine down shouldn’t be a difficult thing, but it feels like trying to thread a rose stem through the eye of a needle - painful and futile. 

Your wrist twitches. A tiny, incomprehensible mistake. The goblet nicks the edge of the table, your grip loosens, and the next thing you know, there’s wine everywhere. Bleeding over the top of the table. Dripping into your lap. Splashed over your chest. The taste of it is still in your mouth, bitter on your tongue.

“You’ve gotten clumsy, pet,” Astarion says. He places his hands on the table, pushes to his feet, and approaches with a languid stride, amused and possessive in his gaze. You meet his eyes, determined not to break.

He grabs a clean napkin and half-heartedly dabs the wine off of you, stopping to swipe a droplet off your chest with his finger. Then he lifts it into his mouth, never looking away. “You’re trembling,” he says.

“Am I?” Your voice is breathless. “That’s strange.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you feeling alright, dearest?” 

“Me?” you ask, your hands clenching into fists. “Of course I am.”

He stares at you. You stare at him. He raises a brow. You paste on your sweetest smile, just for him. 

“You know,” he sighs, circling behind you, “I do hate it when you lie to me.”

The feeling in your gut is ravenous now. You’re nothing short of feverish, buried in a haze of sheer need. You need him more than you have ever needed before. You will not let yourself have him.

You play this game with him because, no matter what he says, you know he wants you to. You slot yourself in as his pawn, settling into your place, competing with him even though the game is rigged from the start; all because he wants it. He wants you to lose, and to beg for him to touch you. And, gods help you, despite this cruel, vicious thing he’s become, you still want him. 

He reaches out to a loose strand of your hair, tucking it away behind your ear. “I want the truth,” he says, leaning in close. You’re shivering with desire. Every part of you wants him near. You fight the impulse to make a sound, and he steps away.

“I really am feeling fine,” you insist. 

His eyes pass over you. You can feel the way they trail along your features, both analytical and skeptical. His head tilts and he smirks, and you know you’ve lost. Just like he wanted you to. 

His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Little love,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb along your jaw. His touch is warm, skimming against your skin. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament, haven't you?” The corner of his lips flick into a smile, but his eyes stay cold as ice. “I know lust when I see it.”

Then, he lets you go.

You want to beg him to come back.

“What a shame,” he muses. “I have so much work to do tonight. You’ll wait for me, won’t you, my sweet?”

You will. You don’t have any choice.

A small sound involuntarily chokes from your throat, and his eyes narrow. “Now, now,” he chides. “Be patient.”

He returns to the doorway, studying your appearance with a smug sort of satisfaction. “Oh, and darling?” he says. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” 

He pulls the door shut after him, and you stare blankly ahead.

Gods. He’s going to drag this out. You know he will - he loves to see you squirm. But to tell you that you can’t touch yourself? It’s particularly cruel.

But this is where he wants you. You’d lost the game, and this is how you’re paying for it.

The time ticks by. The feeling in your gut grows. You have to squeeze the armrests of your chair to keep them from straying. Heat flushes through every part of your body.

It’s a strange thing, being warm. It’s been months since you’ve had warm blood in your veins. You’d almost forgotten how it felt. It only makes this sensation so much more overwhelming. 

It’s like the sun kissing your skin. It’s like fire, searing through your chest. It’s both pain and pleasure, mingling in your senses. More pleasure, perhaps, if you were allowed to touch yourself. You don’t dare to, not even once. Not even a little. No matter how much you want to.

When the door finally opens again, you let out a rush of air. Relief. Sheer relief. But Astarion doesn’t move toward you. He goes to the papers he’d left on the table, rummaging through them. He finds the one he wants, pauses, then glances at you.

“My, my. Look at you,” he remarks. “Gods below. You’re a mess, darling.”

It’s only then that you realize he’s not coming back yet. He’s not here to touch you.

“Astarion-”

The look he gives you silences your words. Your mouth snaps closed, and you try to resist the urge to sob.

“Patience,” he says. His tone is a warning, low and dark. “Or you’ll get nothing at all.”

The door shuts once more, and this time, a noise breaks free from your throat.

You should have just told him. You’d have lost the game all the same, but he might have taken pity on you. But you’d lied to him. You’d kept it hidden. You hadn’t begged.

His message is as clear as day. This is what you get. This is your punishment.

You’d just had to try out that spell book, hadn’t you? You couldn’t have left it alone? Now look at you. Shaking, clinging onto the chair so tightly that your fingers are beginning to go numb. You feel rabid. Whatever self-control is leashing you is beginning to slip.

Just hold on, you tell yourself. Just until he comes back.

So you wait. Your body feels like it’s on fire, but you wait. 

You’ve just begun to consider touching yourself, consequences be damned, when you finally hear the blissfully familiar sound of Astarion’s voice. 

“I’m here now, my dear,” he announces. “You can stop terrorizing the poor chair.”

He’s standing in front of you, looking down at you with a mix of desire and possessiveness. You have to stare at him for a good ten seconds before you realize that he’s actually there, not just a vision. That your torment will soon be over. 

His words finally connect with your mind and register somewhere within the mess of need. Your hands loosen from their grip, and a soft noise escapes from your lips. From pain or want, you don’t know.

“Kneel,” he says.

Your legs tremble when they stand, as if they might finally give out. You sink to your knees, barely feeling the hard stone beneath you.

Astarion takes two fingers and places them under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “My pet, do you want me?”

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“Tell me.”

You swallow hard. “I - I want you.”

“Louder.”

“I want you.”

His head tilts. “Good.”

He drops his fingers. You want to scream at the loss of his touch.

“Get up,” he instructs.

You can barely move, but you do it. Your knees shake. You want to grab onto him for support, but you know you shouldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, his hand wraps around your waist. “Just look at you,” he murmurs, echoing his statement from earlier. His other hand comes up to your mouth, his thumb brushing against your lips. 

Then his hand on your waist trails up your back, up your neck, fisting into your hair. “And all for me.”

He pulls you close and kisses you hard. Bruising. His hand cups your cheek, his grip tightens in your hair. His lips are warm and soft and demanding, coaxing your mouth open as he walks you into the table. The back of your legs meet the edge and you pull away to sit, panting as he sets himself over you, straddling your hips.

His eyes are dark and hazy, trailing over you in a way that makes you shiver.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing a finger along your cheek. His lips move to your jaw, trailing feather light kisses along the bone, and you tilt your head to give him full access to your neck. He hums an approval into your skin.

You barely feel it when his teeth sink in and draw blood. There’s only a faint flash of pain, a muddled sensation beneath your want. You feel his hand rest on your hip. His gentle, wet tongue, darting out to clean the wound.

If he doesn’t touch you soon, you’re sure you’ll combust.

“Astarion,” you breathe, gripping onto the back of his shirt. You know he heard you, but he keeps kissing down your throat, stopping at your collar bones to brush his lips over them. A sharp nip. An apologetic kiss to soothe the sting.

“Astarion, please,” you repeat.

“Hm?” He doesn’t bother to pull away. He simply undoes the lacing of your clothing without looking and tosses the outfit across the room.

“Touch me,” you beg.

At that, he finally stops kissing you and looks up at you, something dark and hungry simmering in his gaze. “Dearest, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he drawls, “but I am touching you.”

You’re in no mood to deal with this - not with the scorching flame inside that will not let up even for an instant. “You know what I mean,” you snap. “Please, gods. Touch me.”

But the more desperate you are, the more he pulls back from you. He gives you a look - half amused, half bored. “But I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “I can’t read your mind anymore, my sweet. Don’t you remember?”

Anger and frustration cloud your vision in a veil of red. A sharp noise chokes through your chest, and you tighten your grip on his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin. “Fuck me, Astarion. Please.”

The corners of his mouth flick into a self-satisfied smile. “You’re lucky I like you, little love,” he murmurs, easing your legs apart with his thigh, and you sigh in relief, relaxing into his touch as he returns to kissing your neck. “But you wouldn’t deny me a taste, surely?” he asks. “I want everyone in the city to hear you screaming my name.”

And then he drops to his knees.

You’re left shivering with need, so desperate that your vision seems to be clouding over. The top layer of your clothing has been removed, but you’re still in your smallclothes, and he of course takes his sweet time with you. The feel of his tongue through the fabric of your smalls, so desperately close to where you need him to be - but not there, not yet there - is all but maddening. You fix your hand into his hair and try to relax, but you’re so tightly-wound that you feel like a rope about to snap.

How the hells are you supposed to relax when the sweet friction of his mouth is pressing against your clit - when he’s on his knees for you, his grip on your thighs bruising and almost, almost perfect? You could come like this, riled up to the point of climax, but that would be too easy. He’d never let it be that easy.

Instead, he brings you to the verge of orgasm, bites at the tender flesh of your thigh, then pulls away.

“Gods,” you mutter, caught between feeling like the tiniest action will send you into waves of pleasure and simultaneously feeling like you’re going to black out. “Astarion-”

“Shh,” he says, still on his knees. “Relax, pet.”

Out of the two of you, he’s in the more vulnerable position, but you’d never know it from the way he’s practically holding you down on the top of the table - from the way his eyes are devouring you, practically daring you to protest. 

You know him. The more you rebel, the less he’ll give you. So you don’t. You force yourself silent and suck in a breath or two, trying to remember the way oxygen tastes, trying to keep the dam inside you from bursting open.

A small sob breaks free, but aside from that, you’re a statue. A lustful, slightly relaxed statue. It’s all you can give, and it must be enough, because he finally pulls your smalls off of you. 

They’re so wet from his tongue and from your arousal that they stick to you, and you can see the way his gaze darkens. The way he swallows, taking in a deep breath and setting them aside. He could keep you here all night, but he’d be torturing himself, too.

He starts slowly again, and with every graze of his warm fingers, with every brush of his skin against yours, your body bucks into his touch. It doesn’t matter where or how brief; it’s just the silky trailing of his fingertips over your abdomen, your body is still chasing the minimal pleasure his presence gives you. If it’s his thumb against your clit, your body still shudders the way you know he wants you to.

When his tongue finally, finally meets your clit, you let out a sharp gasp and have to physically stop yourself from following that feeling, from grinding against his mouth the way you so desperately want to. Your nails dig into the tablecloth, but you let him keep his own pace. His own agonizing, teasing pace. 

One finger, slipping inside of you, finding the electrifying spot inside of you that has you moaning his name, your hand tightening in his hair and your hips bucking of their own accord. Then one becomes two. A slow, even rhythm of thrusting that slowly grows harder, faster, deeper. 

He brings you right back to the edge, and this time, he lets you come. 

Your body tenses. Your grip tightens even more. He groans against you, and the vibrations of it course out through your skin. The rope of tension pulls and pulls and pulls until it finally snaps, leaving you shuddering and mindlessly crying out, his name leaving your mouth like a mantra. 

Just like he’d said it would. 

Your consciousness seems to float away from your body - a blinding, sharp pleasure that comes to you in a pulsing, ambrosial wave. When you come down, you’re still burning. The fire wanes a little, but won’t be sated. Not that easily. In many ways, it’s just like Astarion. Running you through, filling you with need, and not letting you go until it’s done with you.

When you come down, you find yourself with wet thighs and covered in sweat, your breath pulling unnaturally from your lungs until you’ve recovered. You’re still shaking, and Astarion is still between your legs - licking at sensitive skin. 

You whimper, and he finally pulls away, his pupils blown wide and an impatience to his expression. Possessiveness. Need. He rises to his feet and winds a hand in your hair, pulling your head back with a grip that borders on painful.

He doesn’t say a thing, but his gaze speaks volumes - the glittering, dark ruby of his eyes, the almost removed way he observes you, eyes trailing over your face. Studying how he’s ruined you, no doubt.

He releases his hold on you, and though you can see his erection through his trousers, his movements are slow - methodical, almost. When he speaks, his voice is low and dark.

“Come here, my sweet, little consort.”

And you do. With your still-shaking legs, you slide off the table and take a step closer, unsure how near he wants you. 

“Turn around,” he instructs. 

And you do.

You only register his hand on the nape of your neck when your cheek connects with something hard. The table. He’s bent you over it and is standing behind you, and the impact barely smarts in comparison to the heat that floods between your legs.

“You like it like this, don’t you?” Astarion muses, dragging a finger along your spine. “You want everyone to know who you belong to. You want me to fuck you into this table and let everyone hear how much you need me.”

And you can’t even argue with him. You can’t argue, because you know he’s right - and he knows it, too. 

You swallow hard, back arching toward his hand. “Yes.”

He’s silent for a moment, tracing his hand along your back. Then he presses his thumb to your clit and you mindlessly grind into him, barely resisting the urge to beg him to just fuck you already.

Then you hear fabric shifting, and your whole body tenses in anticipation of him. 

He’s not gentle, and he’s not tender. He sheathes himself into you in a single, harsh thrust that has you crying out, your hands scrabbling for something to grasp for support but finding nothing. 

“Gods,” he growls, his grip settling on your hips and pressing into the skin as he sets a rough, punishing pace. His voice is breathless when he speaks. “You look so pretty for me, pet. Bent over like this. Say my name for me, won’t you?”

You can barely choke out the sound between his thrusts, but it comes out of you nonetheless. “A… A-star-ion-” 

“Good,” he says, and then his pace turns brutal, every thrust sending your cheek scraping against the table. There’s pain, but you barely feel it - not against the burning pleasure of him inside you, filling you up, and not against the fire in your skin that’s building to a boiling point again.

Over and over.

His breathing is getting faster. His grip on you is ever tightening, sure to leave a number of tender bruises for the morning. He’ll kiss them, then, draw his fingers over them in admiration, but for now: he groans and grips at your hair again, and you sit there and take every inch he’s giving to you until you can barely stand it - the sweet, delectable friction of him inside you, the vulgar, wet noises that echo around the room. Evidence of how much you want him. How close you are.

“Tell - tell me you’re mine,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I’m yours.”

He thrusts even harder, and it vaguely occurs to you that you might not be able to walk tomorrow. You can feel the tell-tale signs of him getting closer - the tensing of his thighs, the panting as he approaches climax, the moans he’s letting out. He pauses mid-thrust and trembles for a moment before he slams back into you once, twice - three times.

That’s all it takes to send you over the edge with him, clenching around him, barely conscious of the table under you, barely conscious of the fact that both of you are in the dining room and almost certainly the servants are able to hear what he’s doing to you.

You can feel him seeping out of you, trickling down your thighs, and you go slack against the table, gasping and trying to remember how to breathe.

He finally releases your hair and pulls out of you, paying no mind to the way you wince.

You definitely won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“What a good little pet you are,” he remarks, smoothing your hair away from your neck and placing a kiss to the nape. When he speaks again, his voice has gone to that pouty, condescending tone that he sometimes uses. “You wouldn’t dream of doing that to me again, would you, my treasure? Lying to me? Hiding your own pleasure from me? And at my table, nonetheless.”

You attempt an answer, but it comes out as nothing but a helpless whimper.

“What was that?” he asks. 

“No,” you breathe. 

“Good.”

He straightens, running a finger between your legs - no doubt studying the mess he’s made of you.

“Get up,” he says. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

You unstick yourself from the table, legs trembling, and as his gaze travels over you once more, you have a deep, sudden feeling in your gut. It’s too easy. Too easy for you. Even after all the torment you’d faced earlier, stranded and desperate in your chair, it’s not enough. He’s not done with you yet. 

And if you know him at all…

It’ll be surprising if he’s finished with you before morning.

[dippedinmelancholy]

TW: Discussions of SA, consequences, and shit men interacting with women who have been sexually abused. I've been toying with this for a while, trying to find the answer for it on my own but I just can't seem to. Why does SJM treat SA so horrendously? All of her series have this underlying theme feminism, finding your strength, fighting back, ect. Which, on the surface, is amazing. Except multiple women have histories of either straight up SA'd or have endured something that is very much an allegory of SA. Lydia - CC3 Lydia is repeatedly SA'd by her partner, something she doesn't fight back against as it's part of her double agent business. This is an on screen example of very near martial rape. He's violent with her, only put off by her monthly cycle. Ruhn gets hints of it, but there's no denying his knowledge of her pain and her many years of abuse. The first time he and Lydia connect as a couple sexually, despite having this knowledge, he shows her no softness. Lydia herself has no issue with this. There's no sensual connection, no refutal that they don't need sex to care for one another, they don't need sex to seal their relationship. No character development for Ruhn who up to this point has been a borderline sex crazed frat boy. The sex is intense, and though it lacks hard violence, the undertones of ferocity are there. Nesta - ACOSF

Nesta is a victim of SA, something only Cassian has picked up clues on. First, she is assaulted by her fiance of the time. Then, she is violently assaulted by the Cauldron, because she fights back. If she had been a "good girl" and just taken the Cauldron's attention rather than fight back and try to escape, her abuse would not have been so bad, something that very easily and so very clearly translates to real world victims. Then, she is assaulted by the Kelpie. He wishes to make her his "bride", dragging her to a watery death where dozens of women before have died as well. It isn't spelled out for us, but any person with two brain cells can put it together. What do monstrous men do with their brides? What is the role and purpose of a bride? He too assaults her, and plans to rape her. Then, she encouters Lanthys who plans to make her his Queen to rule the world, and forces images into her mind, showing her exactly how he will take and taste her body. Four moments of sexual assault. Three from other worldly, mind breaking evil entities. The Cauldron is just as vile as the other two, corrupted by the Asteri and taking pleasure in hurting Nesta. Again, again, again, Cassian is confronted with instances of Nesta being violated. Again, again, again, he knows the way she has been sexually assaulted, sees how she tries to cope and fails horribly. And yet, how does every sexual encounter go? He is intense. He is borderline violent sexually, though he'd never raise a hand to her. He has no care to give her softness. He practically punishes her for calling it "just sex" despite her being a 20 something scared woman who's never had an impactful relationship where her body wasn't something to be traded and yielded like a fortune of gold, and him being a 500 yr old man who is supposedly supposed to understand women and be more emotionally mature/understanding than Rhysand or Azriel. The men, Fenris/Rhysand - ToG

Fenris and Rhysand too suffer from SA, both from the hands of powerful, cruel mistresses they are "serving" to protect someone they love. These two men are granted space to hurt, to cry, to not know what they want. The fandom in turn is soft with them. The text is sexually soft with Rhysand, though there's no sexual focus with Fenris (which is completely fine, his friendship with Aelin is powerful enough to me). Feyre is soft and understanding with Rhysand, as she should be, yet I can't help but notice this very obvious and stark difference. The Difference

Why are the women treated and written this way? Why are they given no softness, no space to not know what they want? Why are they not given partners who have the bare minimum sense to not rail them like a pornstar? As a victim of SA myself, I'm very much in favor of women reclaiming their sexuality and finding power in it. But there's no journey for these women, no healing. They simply are 'fine' in every sexual moment for their partners, because why would a woman be anything but a wet, willing hole for their partners? Moments after Cassian breaks Nesta wholly, when she was seconds away from jumping from the side of a cliff, he fucks her. She breaks down, sobbing and utterly alone, abused emotionally and physically by HIS HAND, and he fucks her. He tells her it will be fine because he suffered hundreds of years ago, and look, he's great! After all, half of the fandom collectively agrees Nesta should be grateful for being boiled alive, retorn and violated on every possible level. All because she happens to be cruel at times, she isn't a perfect victim, and why should she have any pain when Cassian is right there? All that matters is his wet cock.

There is a constant underlying theme here, across all of the series, all focused on the women, and an obvious opinion and writing habit. If you brush this off as 'it's just a book', I would like to remind you that most of the ACOTAR fanbase are women, young women who are often in their first or second relationship and just now understanding what they should accept in their relationships. It makes me very concerned for Gwyn, who has the most violent and tragic SA history. It makes me concerned for all women who don't see the underlying issues here. At it's core though, it just makes me sad.

[megamuscle885-blog]

Severed - Worm Fanfiction Review

CW: Suicide and canon typical gore.

I don't think I've so eagerly anticipated an imaginary and, likely unwritten at the time of this post, scene in fanfiction than @heyitschartic's Severed. I've been following this series since it was posted three years ago. I'll avoid spoilers and the scene I'm imagining in question will be under the cut, but the basic premise is that Jack Slash chooses Skitter as his nominee during the Slaughterhouse 9 arc, rather than Oni Lee, who was disappointing, and Golem, who he later contrived the entire S9k arc for.

I will say that this work is a beautiful plunge into What Ifs which look all the more horrifying if you compare them against canon. You get flashback snippets of the S9 arc retold from a few perspectives before being thrust into post-GM, maybe pre-Ward? era with modern Skitter. I can certainly say that Severed blows all other S9!Taylors out of the water, Taylor is authentic in ways I haven't seen with anyone else. 10/10, each chapter is at it's absolute peak and it has 11 chapters as of this post. Each gut-punch has me anticipating the next chapter, only for the next chapter to explain why Taylor's friends and enemies hate her so much. I gasped when Tattletale said that to her. I strongly recommend Severed to anyone and everyone who hasn't already read it yet. Here's the link:

Oh wait does this count as the first of my Worm fanfic reviews--

So, I've read chapter 11 and I've been having Taylor and her clone rotating in my head endlessly, but the scene I'm anticipating is the one hinted at in Chapter where Defiant wants Taylor to go under the knife with Bonesaw again so Riley can fix all of Taylor's everything that is physically wrong with her, because her body is practically bio-tinkertech, even after they ripped almost everything else out.

I can only imagine Taylor reiterating that she refuses to be put under for the procedure, and using every moment to vent her anger and frustration on a Riley that is likely seeing marked improvement in her therapy (maybe). But Taylor keeps hitting her with blow after blow. "They'll never let you work on anyone else ever again, so you had better not kill me." and "Nobody will ever let you willingly touch them, I'm the only one who you can use your tinker abilities on, and that can change if I don't need you anymore." "If you ever find someone you can trick into letting you touch them, hold them, or even work on them, I'll kill them. It'd be better than the fate worse than death that letting you touch someone inflicts, and I should know, I'm living through it."

Maybe Chartic has something else planned, but I would like to see this Bonesaw cry. An unshakable, unmoved Taylor just heaps on the abuse through her own tears of pain, holding Riley hostage even as she roots through her guts to put her back together. It's very Taylor to fight through pain to force people to help her. The last time they saw each-other, Riley was doing well. I don't think she'll be doing very well after they meet again.

Maybe an overseeing team of surgeons and Capes become increasingly uncomfortable as Riley is tormented. They find themselves defending Bonesaw of all people, from one of her former victims too.

I'm sorry if this is unsolicited Chartic, but I can't wait to see their reunion, whatever form it takes. Severed's way of making Taylor suffer the consequences of her own actions, while invoking sympathy simultaneously with disgust at Taylor's betrayals; the depths she's sunken to, and then to finally wrap it up with shame and admonishment of her friends, turned victims, is masterful. How dare either they or I judge her for what she had to do to survive. Each chapter reveals that it got worse and worse. At some point, I suspect that (one of) the reasons that Taylor is being given such little leeway by the rest of the cast and remains constantly under the threat of harsh re-imprisonment or execution by vengeful kill-teams is because she somehow became the worst member of the Slaughterhouse Nine or even surpassed them in notoriety.

Tattletale telling Skitter to kill herself was such an insane scene that I stood up and covered my mouth. I was in disbelief. But knowing now that Skitter had betrayed the Undersiders to a slaughter by Mannequin (after having sacrificed her own father and, essentially, her own pre-cape life and innocence with him. The Taylor that she did not want to be, embracing the Skitter she chose to become) and then at some point caused the remainder of the Livsey family to kill themselves the same way Reggie did, with gunshot wounds, really clarifies that Taylor did something unforgivable. She exploited her friendship with Lisa to injure her in a way that can never be repaired. Lisa in canon never really had much to do with her parents ever again, but she probably didn't want them dead for neglecting Reggie.

I may edit this later, or reblog it, as new thoughts on the work come to me.

[pinchinschlimbah]

On "Coming Out" and Noel Fielding

I mentioned forever ago that I had this post in mind and then never got around to it, but now with the new interview quote I was yelling about recently it feels like a particularly good time to get it out of my brain and onto the page! tl;dr: musings on the concept of "coming out" as it has evolved over time, whether it's something that should continue to be necessary or expected of queer people, and why Noel is particularly inspirational to me in that regard since this is, after all, my brainrot blog. This may be extremely long and a bit disjointed but I hope some of y'all will enjoy it!

So a while ago myself and several friends were discussing the concept of coming out. All of us are some flavor of queer both in gender and orientation, but each is in a different place along their self discovery and identity journey, with some being long since out and proud, and others just starting to dip their toes into exploration past the expected cishet.

This discussion actually was prompted by a different discussion about Noel, spurred by comments we'd come across slamming him as being homophobic/transphobic on Bakeoff for making comments suggesting he has romantic or sexual attraction towards Paul, referring to himself with female-centric terms, playing female characters in the skits, and a particular moment where he brings up Old Gregg while talking to KimJoy and says "he was a sea transsexual....quite a demanding role for me" while laughing to indicate that that last part was said in jest. Hey fellas, is it homophobic/transphobic to be a little bit gay and trans? This got us talking about how the current culture of queer identity has evolved to the point where "coming out" feels more like something the public feels they're owed in order for them to view one's expression as valid, rather than its original purpose as something one does for themself in order to live most authentically. I don't think I need to go into detail about how many artists have been harassed by their "fans" into coming out before they were ready because people wouldn't accept the validity of that person's work without knowing exactly how that person identified, there've been plenty of articles and video essays and better written tumblr posts about that, but it's definitely a concerning trend. It can be particularly dangerous when it comes to people who aren't feeling confident or safe enough to come out, who end up being criticized and shunned by the queer community as being somehow problematic for not being able to fully articulate to a group of strangers the ways in which they're experiencing their identity. In this situation, the people who are struggling the most end up with the least support. Forcing people to either declare an identity or get out just leads to more people staying closeted out of fear of doing it "wrong" and never getting the chance to explore the most authentic and joyful versions of themselves, or even worse, feeling the need to out themselves before they're in a safe place to do so and suffering the resulting consequences. Questioning or cautious people deserve space in the community to experiment even if they haven't yet or maybe never will come out! My high school's Gay Straight Alliance was comprised entirely of "straight allies" when I was there. There was not a single "out" person in the school at the time. Nearly all of us in the GSA ended up being some flavor of queer or trans years later after graduation. But whether it was intentional closeting or just feeling an innate affinity towards something we couldn't quite pinpoint at the time, we all knew we belonged there and made that space for ourselves and others like us. Back when "coming out" first became a concept in the public consciousness, it was during a time where cishet identity was not just considered the default, but the only option. By coming out, queer people were giving genuinely revolutionary representation for themselves and others like them by telling the world that, as the old saying goes, we're here, we're queer, get used to it! Nowadays, we're lucky to live in a culture that is much more cognizant of queer identities being a thing, so in many cases coming out has become less about having to explain to those around you the basic concept of queerness existing, and moreso about which specific identity you fall under, and that's where things get messy.

My friends and I shared our own thoughts and experiences. One is currently identifying as "unlabeled" because they haven't found a term that feels correct yet, and therefore hasn't come out because they wouldn't know what to say. One spoke about how when they first came out they were much more insistent on what terms or pronouns people used for them but as time has gone on they've grown to find joy in being inscrutable and letting others wonder what they're perceiving. One expressed that given the state of the world they've been retreating somewhat back into the closet for safety reasons rather than being super outward with their queerness like they used to and is working on learning to embrace those parts of themself again. One said they felt like they'd already been existing as queer and expressing that queerness "before I even had the terms to come out to myself" and is now working on catching up on the conscious end of figuring out what's what. I myself never really had an official "coming out", I just became increasingly visually/socially/vocally queer as I became more and more confident in who I was and what I wanted to be and who I had on some level always been, and decided if people didn't get the hint that's their own problem. I came into consciousness of my queerness during the early 2010s original tumblr MOGAI microlabel boom, where there was a ton of focus on figuring out the hyper specific identity labels that exactly described what you were experiencing. I did a lot of digging and soul searching and experienced a lot of unnecessary stress trying and failing to find my perfect labels and landed on clumsy terms like "full time drag queen" because it was the closest I could get to what I was feeling about my gender, only to be told it was problematic for me to call myself that as an AFAB person because drag "belongs to cis gay men" (don't get me started on that statement, that's a whole other essay lol) It was a real wake up call once I distanced from these aggressively labeled and segmented online spaces and made my way into real world queer communities where I was relieved to find that in fact no one there asks to check your membership card before letting you in, if you feel like you belong there you're welcome no questions asked.

I had other people in these communities referring to me as "queer" and "fag" and "gay" and "queen" before I felt comfortable doing so myself based on online Discourse I'd experienced over who is Allowed to use certain terms, and having these community leaders I respected recognizing those things in me and welcoming me in like that gave me the confidence to really find my own footing in ways that attempting to find my exact correct identity label so that I could officially proclaim it never did. Once I could answer the question of what I was with a shrug and "queer I guess!" things became so much easier. Microlabels can be incredibly helpful and liberating for some, don't get me wrong if it works for you that's great, but let's not pretend that everyone is going to have the same experiences.

So anyway, back to Noel. Noel has never, to my knowledge, ever had any sort of official “coming out” or explicitly referred to himself as queer. So I know there are people out there who will disagree with me considering him to be queer. But so much of what he’s said and done throughout his several decades long career has indicated to me that this is clearly someone of queer experience navigating the world as such, and just as the queers in my local community welcomed me as one of them before I knew to do it myself, I extend that welcome forward. 

Let’s take a look at some of the facts. In the public span of his career, Noel has.....(in no particular order, also if anyone wants to add additional instances of note in the reblogs or comments please feel free, this is by no means a fully comprehensive list) -repeatedly called himself "the woman of the Boosh" or Julian's/Howard's "wife" in ways that suggest that's how he actually felt about it rather than it just being a punchline that he was mistaken for female in the show [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] -referred to himself at the GQ "Man of the Year" awards as "never been a man" and "a sort of girl, he/she" -been referred to by Sandi Toksvig as being "on the cusp" in regards to gender, to which he reacts with amusement and acceptance -consistently expressed excitement and appreciation when others refer to him with feminine terms or say he looks like a girl [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] -said "I love being a man-woman, it's much more interesting than being one or the other" and expressed that the loved shooting the Boosh Electro episode for this reason -referred to Vince Noir (a character who he's been pretty open about being based on himself) as "wasn't seemingly one gender or the other" -expressed that he felt most free and happy when presenting femininely [2] -had Julian, one of the people closest to him, express that Noel and Sandi (an out lesbian) may have "real sexual chemistry" because Noel is "all over the shop, he's a different sex" -used the "Confuser" line of "Is it a boy? Is it a girl? I'm not sure I mind" to refer to himself rather than Vince, and express that he's had to work to find new ways to feel as androgynous as he'd like now that he's older -referred to himself as a lesbian [2] -said that he "sometimes looks in the mirror and sees a woman", in the same interview that Julian implies that Noel is in fact a girl -referred to himself as a "girl/boy" -consistently referred to himself with feminine terms on panel shows and bakeoff -made a joke on bakeoff about not being a testosterone-based person -responded positively when asked about the ways Boosh had influenced queer and nonbinary youth -has said he's "quite obsessed with the man/woman mixup thing" -has said if he was an animal he'd want to be a seahorse because the males get pregnant -Had Lee Mack, who Noel used to live with, refer to him as "the little transsexual one, yeah I think she's fantastic" in a Boosh documentary and "a young lady who came out here happy to be herself" in response to Noel's Wuthering Heights drag performance -had his own mother refer to him as "the daughter I always wanted" -described his own appearance as that of a "transsexual witch" and when an interviewer attempted to make fun of him for calling himself "a transgender witch" by showing Noel a drawing the interviewer clearly found repulsive, Noel responded that the interviewer was "holding up a mirror" and called the image his passport photo

And I'm not even going to bother citing sources on the countless times he's made comments suggesting romantic or sexual attraction towards men. Literally just watch any non-character appearance he's ever done, it's kind of his whole thing??? Not to mention his penchant for picking up explicitly queer and gnc character roles, and also just [gestures vaguely to everything Noel and Julian have said about each other suggesting romantic and sexual tension between them and how they used their characters as an excuse to explore those feelings in a less scary way, again that could be a whole other essay on its own but ooh boy] I also think there's something interesting to explore in the idea of Noel repeatedly referring to his appearance as transgender or transsexual rather than identifying himself as such- at what point does the appearance of something become reality?

It all begs the question- is it even a joke anymore if it's that consistent? Either it's not a joke and it's an authentic expression of his real feelings and experiences, or he for some reason really really wants everyone to believe that he's queer when he's not, with this behavior spanning back to a time before the concept of queerbaiting was on anyone's minds and when being publicly queer could mean the end of your career. Which scenario do you think is more likely? And, does someone who’s been conducting themself like this for their entire career really NEED to come out? Honestly, I find this level of simultaneous authenticity and inscrutability aspirational.

In this Velvet Onion interview from 2012, Noel compares his penchant for dresses to both Grayson Perry and Eddie Izzard. This is interesting because those two people represent pretty opposite intentions behind their presentation- Grayson identifies solidly as cis male, and for him the shock value of crossdressing is the point, saying “I signed up for a gender and I want them to be very clearly delineated so I know I’m dressing up in the wrong clothes.” This doesn't seem particularly in line with where Noel is coming from given him famously referring to himself as "the Confuser" and stating in that same Velvet Onion interview that he "never even bothered giving it a label, I never went oh I'm a transvestite, I just went yeah if I fancy wearing a dress I do, never really thought about it really" Eddie on the other hand has famously said "They're not women's clothes. They're my clothes, I bought them." indicating that they were a genuine part of her authentic expression rather than a crossdressing costume, and has subsequently over the years identified more and more solidly as transfemme. I find Eddie's trajectory particularly fascinating because it's been so non-linear. In the 90s when the language for transness was much less public knowledge, she referred to herself consistently as a transvestite- a cishet man who enjoyed dressing as a woman, as well as using terms like "male tomboy" and "male lesbian" and "a full boy plus extra girl". Despite doing most of her standup shows in femme looks, most of her acting jobs were male-presenting, and there was a period of time in the 2010s where she dropped the femme presentation entirely in an attempt to be taken more seriously as the "crossdressing" was seen by many as a gimmick. Swinging back around more recently, Eddie has been explicitly identifying as genderfluid and transfemme, and in recent years has made the decision to "be based in girl mode from now on", and use primarily she/her pronouns. Since this announcement, in her trans advocacy work Eddie has described herself as being "out" as trans since the 1980s despite all of the above. She always knew who she was, it's just she's gotten access to more accurate terms over time to describe what she was experiencing, as well as feeling more safe to do so the more that transness became a known and accepted concept in the public eye.

The interview I mentioned at the very start of this post isn't really a coming out from Noel. And I don't think we'll ever really get one from him. In my opinion Noel has spent the past several decades conducting himself as someone who is in fact already out- it’s pretty clear Noel knows and is proud of who he is regardless of how he chooses to describe that identity. At this point, making some sort of official statement would just be for the benefit of others looking for clarification on their own perception of him and people who want to be able to put him in one box or another, and that’s not what coming out should be. The statement in the new interview is not "I am genderfluid", its "I've always been genderfluid", simply putting an accurate name to what's always been publicly visibly true now that he's got the terms to do so.

[libby-for-life]

Maybe it's because I've encounter a little bit too much fuck up adamsapple with Adam at Lucifer's 'mercy' but I, honestly can't bring myself to feel bad for Lucifer in the Just Desert au,

In the end, all Adam's doing, aside from the march of shame, is forcing him to endure the same consequences that Lucifer's actions cause him, an even then, probably not as bad as Adam and Eve's life on Earth, as this is Adam's garden, in Heaven, somehow I doubt that Adam would decide to keep dangerous and vicious animals in is personal garden nor would he be allowed to

Basically, a shittier Eden

Most of the Lucifer's anguish would really come from the fact that he's far away from his daughter and is unable to get back to her, dealing with the fact his wife never loved and abandoned him, couping with his newfound powerlessness. If anything, working out how to survive in the 'wilderness' would probably keep him occupied for a while

You shouldn't feel bad for him because he does completely deserve it. And the animals that are in the Garden, well, they won't kill Lucifer. But that doesn't mean they won't hurt him either. Adam would be the only one who could control them and while Lucifer is never going to die, he needs to understand what Adam and Eve went through.

So many children lost to sickness and disease. So many times Adam ate plants to make sure they were safe to consume before letting Eve and the children have it and then got sick because he ate something he shouldn't have. So many times they were cold and in danger. Lucifer DOES have it easier. Lucifer can't die unless it's from angelic weapons and / or holy light, but that doesn't mean he can't feel pain. He's going to know EXACTLY what Adam and Eve went through.

Lucifer is going to be alone for a while and Adam is going to watch him suffer for quite a bit. He's no longer a king. He's just a "human" with wings now.

[yandere-sins]

Downfall

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

a/n: I mean, I did kind of teaser this one, but I had it written and only now got to clean it up a bit. But yes, I just really want to be smooshed between yandere please, roughly and brutally okay thanks.

Fandom: Genshin Impact   Pairings: Yandere!Alhaitham x GN!AFAB!Reader x Yandere!Kaveh  Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Blowjob/Throatfuck, Creampie, Masturbation, Non-/Dub-Con, Lots of juices, Rough fucking, Degradation, Praise, DP mention), Violence (Manhandling, Biting), Jealousy, Possessiveness, Punishment mention, Forced Relationship, Forced Feelings

The long fingers raking through your hair didn't make the pain in your throat any more endurable.

His touch, as gentle and praising as it was, did nothing to stop your drool from overflowing. Nothing to make his cock less long and his hips less enthusiastic about burying every inch of it inside you. Your tongue was just a helplessly lolling muscle underneath Alhaitham's instructions, all while his other hand was busy working on the table above you.

He was angry. Not at you, per se. Yet, you hated how you were his outlet, regardless of which emotion that man felt. Or… didn't. He still used you when he wasn't particularly stirred, but that was another story entirely. Kaveh must have really ticked him off that morning, though, as Alhaitham had barged into his room, pulling you out of Kaveh's soft and plush sheets while you were still dozing, and taken you to the Akademiya with him before his roommate could even notice you were gone.

Only for you to go through the horror you had to face every day but in a much less comfortable space. Once again, you were the punished one in their argument.

Once again, you suffered the consequences.

No matter how much he appreciated you forcing yourself to wrap your lips around his cock, Alhaitham never cared to wipe away your tears. He never asked how you felt, squeezed under his table, sucking him off as if your life depended on it (a partially true sentiment, as the air was getting thin with the massive blockage of his cock). He never even so much but cared to put you into proper clothes rather than the skimpy nightgown Kaveh liked to dress you in when he was in the mood for admiring the sight of you.

You were cold, uncomfortable, scared, and felt like an object while in Alhaitham's care. Not a good look for a man who still declared that what he felt for you was love while he locked you up in his home, forced you to study his texts so he'd have someone to talk about them with, and then bent you over and fucked you roughly whenever he saw fit. Even worse than that, at times, Alhaitham, completely captivated by his books or missions, just gave you up to his roommate without a second thought, as if you were a pet in need of a carer. The two had created something akin to a schedule, who got you when, a truly disturbing concept considering you were all adults. However, you questioned their sanity every day. And Kaveh was… perhaps even worse than the roommate currently relishing at the feel of you choking on his cock.

"Alhaitham."

Kaveh's voice emerged pressed through his teeth, anger boiling under his tongue. You didn't need to see him to know fury replaced his pupils, his joints cracking under restraint. Alhaitham let out the hint of a sigh, noticeable by how his cock pulled out at the intake of air, only to fill your throat again as he breathed out, the gentle fingers from before now turning tense as they gabbed into your hair to shift responsibilities. Instead of fucking his hips into your face, he was now bopping your head up and down, pitiful gurgles leaving you as you stained his pants with your drool and tears, though he was relentless. The peaceful quiet was disturbed, so it was time to get it over with.

He wasn't too harsh with guiding your head, but he wasn't careful either. And while your wrists strained in the cuffs behind your back, you tried to elevate yourself to make it less painful to take him in deep, even beyond your capabilities. It would be over soon. Now that Kaveh had appeared, there was no doubt Alhaitham would finish up quickly to eliminate any nuisances like his desperate needs or Kaveh's nagging. Marking you with his cum, which would linger as a taste on your lips and a smear down your thighs, was an additional pleasure for him to piss off his roommate.

"Where are they?" Kaveh demanded to know, and Alhaitham let a shuddering breath, his demands of you becoming rougher as he neared his orgasm. "How dare you just take them out without telling me!"

"They're busy today. They have obligations other than to humor your sick fantasies, Kaveh."

"Sick fantasies–?!"

Interrupting Kaveh, Alhaitham suddenly rose from his chair, pulling you out from the legroom under his table. Your muffled complaints as he handled you undoubtedly pleasured him, vibrations quivering against his cock shoved deep inside you from above. Alhaitham pulled you taut against him, your lips kissing the fabric of his clothes, spluttering drool as you were cut off from a chance to breathe with your throat used to its best capabilities. Flailing in his grip, you were so helpless with your arms bound, having to rely on his strength to keep you upright. Alhaitham pressed you backwards, bracing himself with one arm against the table, hovering over you. His fingers clutching the edge were the only thing that kept your head from bumping into the wood with every push as he picked up the pace even faster.

Now in a less confined position, he pulled his hips from your face before plunging back down. Over and over, letting out moans and groans of pleasure, Alhaitham much more open and vocal while having sex than one might take him for. Kaveh let out a loud gasp at the sight of you being mishandled, but what could you do except endure being used and throat-fucked? Even if you had wanted to appease the other psycho in the room, there was no way you could have escaped.

Alhaitham's voice cut off suddenly, breathing ragged, and he stopped all the way down your throat, shuddering. Hot splurts of cum made you want to gag as they dripped into you, your only ability being to swallow it as it was given to you. Unable to catch a breath as he came, your body let out more tears while you felt appalled by his cum warming the inside of your throat, your insides burning as if they were on fire.

When he was finally done, Alhaitham slowly retreated, inch for inch, waiting for you to lick him clean before his tip finally popped out of you. Releasing you from his hold, you plummeted to the ground, coughing up spit and semen. You felt so pathetic and disgusting, but Kaveh was by your side in a matter of seconds, pushing Alhaitham away and wrapping you in his arms. Shivering and sobbing, he pressed your face into his shoulder and allowed you to cry. It was all you could do, even if you wanted to scream and howl, but you were too afraid of the repercussions of your actions to let go of your inner restraint.

Your life was so unfair, setting you up for failure no matter what you did. When Alhaitham approached you the first time, you thought he was taking pity on you. A handsome man showing interest in you never was a good sign. Turned out he had just been interested in you because of the information you had, useful for his mission. However, he never stopped visiting your place of work, and you two had developed a relationship—or so you thought. His interests seemed more peculiar than he'd ever let you know, and you never got around to understanding him, even after he took you to his home against your will.

"Why are you doing this to them?!" Kaveh hissed at him, clutching you to his chest. Once again, it was Alhaitham's roommate playing knight in shining armor, defending your virtue that he liked destroying at night. Not without his hands clutching you, of course, squeezing your body possessively, waiting for you to flinch, so he had more reason to go off on Alhaitham. "Do they mean nothing to you?! Don't you love them?!"

You couldn't see Alhaitham's reaction, but he didn't feel the need to respond verbally. You heard the slick sound of him cleaning off his cock of the excess fluids, jerking it a few more times to the sight of you before packing it away. Alhaitham's hand fell to the back of your head, his finger ruffling through your hair as if to say "well done". Kaveh cursed him under his breath, rubbing his hand reassuringly over your back. All of Kaveh's questions were just attempts to get under Alhaitham's skin, but his mind was resolute against almost anything Kaveh said. Would Alhaitham be stirred at the news of you getting away? He loved you, and he saved you from a miserable life; that's what he believed. Even though you suffered, Alhaitham had decided this was the life you should be living, by his side in revered admiration. So would he react at hearing something happened to you? Or would he be just as calm and composed as he was now? His attitude making Kaveh even angrier towards his roommate.

Producing a handkerchief from his pocket, Kaveh cleaned up the mess on your face. Even if the disgust didn't disappear with the wipe of the soft fabric, it helped to feel a little less dirty. A little less used and discarded. However, even without looking, you felt Alhaitham's eyes drill into your back, watching as Kaveh took care of you.

"You okay, Love?" Kaveh cooed, and you bit your lip, knowing it was better to lie than to further aggravate the two. Nodding, you lowered your gaze, not wanting Kaveh to read your eyes rather than trust your confirmation. "Everything's going to be okay. I'll take you away from this bastard soon. Don't cry, Love."

Sometimes it was easy to forget he was worse than even Alhaitham. Sometimes, with his warmth and care, the nicknames and sweet promises, Kaveh had you forgetting how cruel he could be. How his jealousy and competitive nature made him even needier and ruthless than the man who had carelessly throat-fucked you just to annoy Kaveh. It was hard to see how either of them could claim they loved you—love anyone, really—when you were more like a prize they were throwing back and forth, not caring about what you wanted or how hurt you got in the process.

Their egos were your downfall.

"Make sure you clean them up properly when you get home," Alhaitham muttered, and Kaveh's movements halted. You watched his chest puff with air, anger radiating from him as he returned, "Excuse me?"

"I said clean them up properly when you get–"

Even before the sentence was finished, Kaveh reached between your legs. Fingers digging into you without warning, you jolted, crying out pitifully before grinding your teeth, the tears returning. Kaveh pressed his pointer and middle finger inside you, thumb instinctively finding your little know at the front, causing a shock of electricity to jolt through you. You bit back a moan as he scissored his fingers, brushing against your wet and sensitive walls before pulling them out again to examine. Forth came two slick fingers coated in the leftovers of the creampie you received, and Kaveh's face turned from pale to a deep shade of red. He didn't need to be a scholar to know that wasn't his cum inside you from the night before. Not after he made sure to bathe you after his session yesterday.

"Leaving me the seconds to clean up, huh?" Kaveh mumbled eerily as he stared at the little strings of cum forming from his fingers, eyes darkening with terrifying anger as he knelt next to you, knowing you had been thoroughly used.

"Don't be so sensitive," Alhaitham sighed, the previously raging madness at what his roommate did to upset him that morning, lost in the thought of Kaveh being dramatic about the nice gift he gave you.

"Sensitive? Me? After you took my beloved darling out of my bed—kidnapped them even!—knowing fully well it's not your day! We have rules, Alhaitham. And now you are making your mess my responsibility?"

Letting out a surprised gasp, you were suddenly pulled to your feet. Digging his fingers under your ass, Kaveh demanded your cooperation and to wrap your legs around his hips. You didn't dare to disobey when his mood was fouler than both of their intentions towards you. Walking you around Alhaitham's table, for a moment, you were hoping he'd just let it be and take you home. Maybe vent his feelings to you while all he demanded from you was cuddles and to kiss him when he asked for it. Sadly, that was the only and best way to avoid his anger shifting onto you, no matter how appalled you were by his affection.

But it was wishful thinking anyway.

Instead of saving you from the horror that was Alhaitham's office and giving you the bath you desired desperately, Kaveh turned towards Alhaitham's desk, facing him. Before you knew it, your shoulders and back hit the table, your pulse racing as pain spread through your whole body. The hands shackled behind your back made this position beyond uncomfortable, and you cried out in distress as you were slammed on your limbs. Recovering from the shock, you took a deep breath, opening your eyes again, only to find yourself staring at Alhaitham's slightly disgruntled, slightly curious expression. At the same time, you felt Kaveh push your legs forward, the nightgown easily giving way and baring yourself fully to him.

"N-No! Please, no more!" you pleaded, forcing your chin to your collarbones to look at Kaveh. He only glared at you, his voice a frosty threat that you better not challenge him now too. It was as if he was blaming you for what happened, more tears springing into your eyes as you found no way to reason with him when his mind was deceived by things that didn't happen. You certainly didn't ask Alhaitham to steal you away and, even less, force himself on you. But in his jealousy, Kaveh wouldn't believe you even just a little bit.

"Shut. Up."

Immediately, you closed your mouth, letting your head fall back to give Alhaitham a pleading look for help instead. Even after such a long time, you still hoped that your eyes would one day let either of the two have pity on you. However, the latter had already leaned back in his chair, making no attempts to assist Kaveh or save you. His work was interrupted with you taking up most of the table, and his hand gripped into the fabric of his pants where his cock perked up, watching as you were spread out in front of him.

Horrified, you couldn't help but shiver at the sound of fabric between your legs. More tears streamed down your face. This time, you didn't hold back from sobbing out loud. If they didn't have the decency, why should you? So what if someone heard? If neither of them were to be reasoned with, maybe someone walking in and seeing you in distress would get them off you. Though it wouldn't keep you from the embarrassment of a stranger walking in on the three of you doing things that were definitely not permitted inside the Academiya.

Propping your legs over his right shoulder, Kaveh kissed your cold calves, taking a moment to really feel your soft skin against his lips and taste you on his tongue, a sight of worship for your body. Not like you could forget about his tip positioned to rub along your folds. Not even for a second. But as your thoughts drifted off to the danger waiting to pounce, Kaveh opened his mouth, perfect rows of teeth sinking into you the exact moment his hips snapped forward. Gasping, you stirred helplessly in your awkward position, the slickness of your cunt letting him slip in much too easily for your mental state. Yet, you moaned as he filled you, your walls recognizing his cock as if it belonged inside you. Though you wished you could have kept him outside by clenching down hard on his cock, instead, Kaveh let out a myriad of moans as he buried himself deep inside your warmth, thinking you were welcoming him.

Enjoying you, his personal toy, the anger he had felt after finding out what Alhaitham had done was only noticeable in the way his fingers dug into your skin as he turned you to your side, the wet noises growing louder as your thighs parted to give him access. No matter his feelings, now that he was fucking you, Kaveh couldn't resist being enamored, his hands unable to hold as much of you as his mind wanted. In his fantasies, it was you holding on to him, begging for and praising his cock, asking for more, and for him to make you his. Using you as he needed and wanted was just the build-up to make this fantasy into reality, he hoped. But it made him a little more attentive, even though that didn't mean any less rough and needy.

Though you tried to hide the moans slipping out between your sobs, you couldn't, the treatment of the two so cruel and yet leaving such a burning passion behind, crawling from your pussy up your stomach and to your brain with every thrust. You hated thinking your body had already adjusted and synched with them. Still, you knew that no matter who fucked you, you'd be betrayed by the joy of pleasure.

"So pretty," Alhaitham suddenly murmured above you, and you cracked open your eyes again to look at him. His eyes gleamed with mischievous affection, and he cupped your face from above, thumb wiping your cheeks in admiration. "Do you like it, Sweetheart? Does it feel good when he fucks you raw? Or do you prefer me?"

Kaveh let out a disgusted grunt at Alhaitham's suggestion as he pushed his hips forcefully into yours, lodging his cock so deep inside it made you squeak before you let out a hearty moan, surrendering to the fact you couldn't win no matter what you said. Weakly, you shook your head, barely noticeable as you focused on Kaveh's rhythm instead. He kept breaking it to punish you, doing a quick session of pounds before rolling his hips, creating delicious friction. Just as your limbs began to tense, he pulled out completely, leaving you whining without him inside you. With an especially rough push, your walls tingled with pleasure as he hit the sweetest of all spots with the slight curve in his cock. Angels singing and bells ringing in your head, you exhaled a shuddering breath.

"Don't lie," Kaveh grunted. "Tell that bastard how good you feel."

Nails digging into your calves, this wasn't a request but a demand. Everything in your body refused to say it, the signs so clear the two should have known that you were very close to cumming if Kaveh managed to caress that sensitive spot inside you again. You bit your lip, sniffling before letting your head hang, complying pitifully.

"... good," you mumbled, even though it was hard to temper your voice when you were so out of breath. You were constantly on the verge of tipping over into the abyss, your mind going down the gutter as Kaveh kept prodding against your sweet spot. It was a fight you couldn't win, no matter how hard you tried to keep any sound from leaving you.

"Louder!" Kaveh demanded, pushing forward and right into the place that made you tremble.

"IT'S GOOD!" you finally screamed, releasing all the pent-up tension. Your whole body was captured by violent shakes, muscles tensing up to your toes as you were pushed over your limits. It was pure mercy that Kaveh eased you after the orgasm, undoubtedly having a smug grin on his face.

"That's how you do it," he bragged proudly to Alhaitham, their tense eye contact lost on you and your muddled mind. Kaveh knew you, inside and out. He knew what felt good and what really hurt you. While for Alhaitham, you were an object to possess, perhaps even a golden bird that he put into a cage, Kaveh was out for your blood. He was the one forcing you to sing, or he'd tear out your feathers and strangle you. He knew the words to say to make you weep and those to comfort the wounds he inflicted on you. It was no wonder—especially not after being forced to experience pleasure by Alhaitham before him—that you were no match for Kaveh's expertise.

Releasing your legs, he turned you onto your stomach before slipping back inside. Looking ahead tiredly, you came face to face with a very eager, pulsating cock that you knew all too well from it being shoved down your throat minutes prior. But now, Alhaitham was all too happy handling himself while Kaveh finished his business inside you. This had never happened before. They had never shared you willingly. But things were changing.

You weren't sure if you liked that.

"That's it, babe," Kaveh groaned behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and sinking his face into your shoulder as he picked up a stimulating pace for himself, hammering his cock inside you as if his life depended on it. Desperate, thrilled, completely enraptured. He came in floods of his own cum, straining himself as he tried to press as far as possible into you, spread his jizz so far it would cover up his rivals'.

"You're doing so good, [Name]," Alhaitham cooed at you, placing his fingers around your chin and squeezing your mouth open to receive his tip, forcing you to play with it and lick off the excessive precum with your tongue. The taste tingled your memories, your throat clogging up as it anticipated being penetrated again, but even though your eyes opened wide and you tried to jerk away, there was no escape.

"Open up, Angel," Kaveh sighed blissfully, urging you on behalf of his rival. Alhaitham didn't wait for you to welcome him before making himself at home inside you again, his pulsing member only needing the nudge of your tongue and tight constriction of your throat to cum for a third time that day. Infatuated as he was, having watched you get fucked silly, Alhaitham was already so sensible after working your sore body over his length twice before.

"You're so hot," Kaveh mumbled, his hands massaging your ass. Their touch left nothing but hotness behind, your pussy clenching every time Kaveh squeezed you. And every time, he muffled his groans in your shoulder, unwilling to separate from you yet, kissing up and down your shoulder while clogging your pussy with his cock, making sure his cum would stay inside you. Making the sloppy seconds especially sloppy.

"I wonder if they could take us both," Alhaitham pondered, and your eyes snapped upwards, catching the hint of a grin on his face. A truly rare but even more so, frightening look. When it came to researching, one could always count on Alhaitham to have his curiosity picked. Especially when it involved you.

"No… No more…" you coughed as he finally pulled his cock out of your mouth. Your jaw felt like it was going to be permanently fractured, and your throat was sore and burning. And yet, your pussy still quivered around Kaveh, a smirk settling on his lips as well, suddenly having a change in opinion about his roommate.

"I think they'd really like that! Judging by how eager their pussy is."

You always thought Alhaitham was bad and Kaveh was worse. But them working together? It was your damn ruin even though you had to admit... Their cocks felt so damn good as they fucked out the last of your sanity.

Turning you into their pretty, perfect, darling slut.

[antianakin]

I just read your post regarding Governor Pryce being more worthy of the redemption arc than Agent Kallus. If you had it your way, how would this story go about?

Pryce was a complete unknown prior to season three, I don't think we even know she was a woman before she showed up a screen, which makes her a complete blank slate to work with as opposed to Kallus who had already been set up (more than once) as a pretty irredeemable and unforgivable villain. This means Pryce would need less time to set up as someone to be redeemed (or as someone who was perhaps always on their side working as a double agent and it just isn't revealed until the end of the season) than Kallus should've gotten. Kallus needed to have his entire backstory RETCONNED in order to make this work for him and that quite simply would not have been true for Pryce.

I also liked that Pryce ended up being a native to Lothal, I think the connections you could make there to what was happening to the planet and its people (perhaps even without Pryce realizing or she just didn't realize how bad it was because she had been gone on Coruscant for so long and her information is siphoned through Imperial aides and things like that before she can read it) would really help towards a redemption arc that feels relevant to Ezra and the story being told with him.

Have Pryce show up and she starts to see the suffering her people are going through, have her keep trying to justify it even though you can tell it makes her uncomfortable or even upset. Have her maybe try to fight back once and Thrawn or Tarkin or someone shoots her down so she turns around and justifies the oppression to the people, but she's actually HERE now, so she can hear the protests, she can see the consequences of these choices. She might argue she doesn't HAVE a choice because if she fights back then her neck is on the line. Maybe she feels like she HAS been fighting for Lothal and it's better to have someone on the inside working to make things better than for her to abandon her post for a rebellion only for someone worse to end up in her place. And it's a season-long arc for her to realize that being on the inside will NEVER be enough because the Empire will MAKE IT not enough. She either lets them do whatever they want or they kill her anyway. She isn't truly helping anyone from the inside the way she wants to believe she is.

Maybe she has a few run-ins with the Ghost crew who work to try to convince her of this even as she tries to capture them because all of the reports coming to her insist that these people are criminals and it's THEIR actions causing the Empire to make things worse for EVERYONE on Lothal. And of course she has to realize that the Ghost crew are fighting FOR Lothal, they always have, that they're sometimes the only ones working to help her people.

She starts off misguided but not irredeemable in this version, so one season to get her from an Imperial loyalist to a rebel is plenty of time to show that development. Give her a 5-6 episodes across the season where she's forced to see the truth via interactions with the Ghost crew or things Thrawn does to draw them out and reconnecting with her people and her home, and it would honestly be enough. You might even be able to get away with 3-4 episodes dedicated to this.

The alternative is to have Pryce be a double agent who's NEVER truly been loyal to the Empire but has been funneling information to the rebellion through some sort of false identity for YEARS in an attempt to help Lothal and take down the Empire. She's had to make some hard decisions regarding her home, but it was always in the effort to FREE Lothal by taking the risk of being an inside man. And the Ghost crew maybe uncover this at some point and Thrawn is a new problem keeping too close of an eye on her, so her cover gets blown by the end of the season and she has to go on the run and more officially join the rebellion. This is the vastly easier option because, while it requires a balance of making her convincingly loyal to the Empire without making her so evil that the revelation of her being a double agent is unbelievable, it also doesn't require going through the effort of redeeming Pryce at all (which should be a longer, more drawn out and complex process).

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Febuwhump Day 10 - Killing in Self Defense

Well... I did warn y'all that I wouldn't be able to shut up about the Hyrule Warriors Imprisoning War blorbos... and uh, I liked this prompt so much that I wrote it four times >.<

(Head's up, this one gets dark. Lots of blood and some body horror kind of dark. Surprise, surprise given the prompt lol)

There was a difference between sparring and true war. There was a difference between the honor of defending one's own and the horror of meeting someone equally determined.

Hemisi... didn't like war.

She supposed it was a stupid sentiment to have. Given all the bloodshed she'd seen so far, it seemed reasonable to assume no one would like war.

But she couldn't tell if her father held the same idea.

She didn't know how he did it, how either of her parents did it. The original plan had been a quick snatch and run, to steal the Trio Force or whatever it was called and run back to the desert. She figured it was naïve to assume Hyrule wouldn't go after them, but if it had gone correctly no one would've been the wiser, right? Once the dust had settled, she might have even been able to reach out to Link again.

Instead, the Sheikah warriors had noticed the bodies. Instead, the sacred relic had shattered as soon as her father had touched it. Instead, their mother had screamed that they should retreat when things fell apart. Instead, she'd had to run around her boyfriend's unconscious body and was unable to help him. Instead, Hyrule had a face and a name to call culpable and brought its full wrath down on the Gerudo.

Instead, they were fighting a war.

Hemisi had fought before, but never to such an extreme, and never to the death. Yet here she was, covered in the blood of her enemies, staring at the bodies she'd just cut down.

She felt sick. She was sick. This was sick.

Is it really worth all this?

Did it even matter anymore? What was done was done. If she didn't fight, her people would suffer the consequences.

The scimitars fell out of her trembling hands as she stared at blood dripping off her fingers, down her torso, as she felt it on her face.

Hemisi started to hyperventilate, backing away from the carnage, her world spinning.

She wanted nothing more than to turn back time, to go to the days where she and Link were stargazing on the castle walls, where she was training with her father, laughing with her mother, annoying her brother.

But there was no going back. The empty, accusing Hylian eyes that watched her screamed it, cemented in her mind by the life-giving fluid that slid off her skin.

XXX

There was a difference between monsters and people. There was a difference between fighting mindless creatures of darkness and living, breathing women with loved ones and histories and feelings.

Link hated the difference, hated that he wasn't just dealing with Ganondorf's hordes of bokoblins and moblins anymore, hated that the Gerudo stood before him ready to die for a monster.

He parried another blow with his shield just at the right moment, leaving the Gerudo warrior open to a counterattack, but he couldn't bear to take it. So far in the war all he'd ever fought were beasts - there was no way he was going to take away a life like this. He couldn't.

The Gerudo roared, pushing forward with more intensity. Although Link was trying to just disarm her, it was very clear she was going for the kill. He knew he should be too.

But all he could see was the Gerudo settlement. All he could hear was the laughter, the music. All he could smell was the food and incense.

All he could see was her.

He knew. He knew as soon as this happened, he'd be forever changed. He'd been dreading it, selfishly enjoying the time the king had spent--wasted--leaving him in the castle to defend the princess. Because he knew that he could fight monsters a hundred times over, but the instant he had to face a Gerudo herself...

The warrior's blade slid just by his abdomen, cutting at his side, and he hissed.

You're going to die if you don't end this.

Link froze. I can't!

He shouldn't have frozen like that. He shouldn't have.

The Gerudo's sword swiped through the air at the level of his neck. His world slowed. She was wide open, the move a sweeping, large, long, slow one, and she was wide open.

Link dropped to his knees, his blade rushing forward. It hit true, requiring more force than before to cut through what was no longer air, to sink into what wasn't just monster flesh. He pushed harder, the blade jaggedly making its way through as he heard the sickening sound fill his ears.

The scimitar clattered to the ground. The weight on his sword grew heavier as the body sagged, lifeless.

Link twisted so the Gerudo fell to the side, his blade coming out of her quickly.

All around him, chaos erupted. The monsters no longer had a commander to guide them, and the remaining Hyrulian forces cut through their numbers quickly.

Link hardly noticed.

The Gerudo stayed motionless on the earth. He watched blood leak out of her abdomen where he'd stabbed her.

He'd killed her. He'd killed her.

And he... felt... nothing.

XXX

There was a difference between enemies and loved ones. It was strange to note it as, well, he'd never really had loved ones he cared about before.

"This war is getting out of control. There has to be some kind of terms we can come to."

Ganondorf turned sharply to look at his wife. "Surrender? You're suggesting we surrender?!"

"We've lost nearly half our warriors!" Nabooru argued. "If we continue this, there won't be Gerudo left to prosper from the Triforce. Not to mention we don't even have the entire relic, and our spies have discovered nothing about the whereabouts of the other two pieces!"

"The Triforce of Power is more than enough to win this war," Ganondorf snapped. "My power is unmatched. And then we will get the Triforce, and--"

"And what?" Nabooru interrupted sharply. "What will we do when we win, Gan? A war was never the plan, your obsession over that relic has nearly destroyed our people!"

"Our people?!" Ganondorf repeated, glaring at her. "Our people, who live out in the desert like rats? Our people, who suffer in the elements while Hyrule prospers?"

"Our people, who have adapted and survived, who persevere despite the odds, who value life and love and integrity and honor!" Nabooru fired back. "Our people, who are losing their way to this bloodshed! You said the Triforce would help us grow, but all I've seen is our people fall one by one!"

"You want the Gerudo to stay as they were." Ganondorf accused. "To forever nip at the heels of greatness--"

"Greatness," Nabooru scoffed. "As if you even know that word. You don't aspire for greatness, you aspire for control. This has never been about the Gerudo, has it? This has always been about you!"

Though he could feel rage steadily boiling his blood, Ganondorf remained silent for a moment. Of course this was about him - he coveted the prosperity of Hyrule, but that didn't mean that--he could share it with his family! What sort of accusations was Nabooru levying against him?

"When I first met you, you tried to steal my birthright, my leadership of my people," Nabooru continued, slowly walking towards him. "I showed you why I had earned that seat as chief. And as time passed, I thought you had learned, that you had realized that your selfishness and lust for power were not strengths but weaknesses."

"Watch your words, Nabooru," Ganondorf growled dangerously.

"Do not speak to me as if I am child!" Nabooru balked, rage pulling at her face. "You are the one being childish, the one who will never learn, who thinks the world should revolve around you and you alone. Don't you understand what you're doing?!"

"I am doing what I was born to do!" Ganondorf roared. "I was born to lead the Gerudo, born to rule the desert, and born for greatness! Hyrule's power will be mine! Have you not looked upon their land and seen more than the harshness of the desert? Have you never once coveted the winds that bless their lands?"

"Not at the price you're willing to pay," Nabooru answered, her voice suddenly growing quiet. "Never at the price you're willing to pay."

"I will sacrifice everything to achieve that goal," Ganondorf hissed. "Your weakness is your unwillingness to do the same."

"You're wrong," Nabooru said even more quietly, though there was no tremble to her tone. It was stone cold, and had more strength to it than Ganondorf had ever heard, like the low rumble of a dragon just before it attacked. "I am willing to sacrifice everything to do what is right."

Electricity shot through Ganondorf's veins as his wife drew her sword on him. The shock that cascaded through him quickly broiled into rage and overwhelming hatred, and he let it consume him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm ending your war," Nabooru snarled, immediately striking.

Ganondorf drew his claymore and swatted her sword easily, his strength surpassing her own. However, Nabooru was nimble, and though her strikes couldn't hold the same force as his own, she was still more than capable of cutting him to pieces. Ganondorf took several steps back as he was hit with her fast assault, multiple blows in succession, some landing a hit on his legs, one on his side. Roaring, he swung harder, watching her duck under his blade and angle her sword upward to carve into his stomach. He kicked her directly in the face, and she went flying into a nearby table, dazed momentarily.

"You think you can defeat me?" he hissed. "You think you even stand a chance?"

Nabooru groaned, slowly trying to sit up.

"You dare defy me?!" he continued, his hatred ever growing. "Me, the rightful ruler of all things!"

His wife let out a mirthless laugh. "You are a ruler of nothing Ganondorf. You're letting that demon control you. I didn't marry a demon king, I married a man who sought to better himself, who wished to see prosperity spread across the land! You, demon, will die!"

With that his wife rose against him once more, attacking even faster despite how she shook her head and blinked blood out of her eyes, despite how her nose was misshapen and blood was pouring freely out of it. Ganondorf deflected, parried, counterattacked at every measure, but the Gerudo chief was too fast. He grew angrier by the second, outraged that she would actually attempt this, after everything--had their love meant nothing?! How could she betray him like this?!

Nabooru leapt off a table to come down on him overhead, blade ahead of her, aimed at his head. Ganondorf fel this heart stop a moment, fear gripping him, and he dodged just in time, bringing his blade up to carve through her back from her hips to her skull.

Nabooru fell to the ground, and the room grew still.

Ganondorf stood there, motionless, until he became dizzy because he'd forgotten to breathe.

I... I just... what did I just...

Nabooru was dead. Nabooru was dead.

My wife... my wife...

She betrayed you, the voice in his head purred, and Din's fire if he couldn't find an argument against it. She'd been trying to kill him!

This was her fault! He should've known she wouldn't listen! A fool would get a fool's reward!

My children will listen to me. They will undertand. They will obey me.

Ganondorf wiped the blood from his blade, ignoring how his hands shook, and stormed out of the tent.

XXX

There was a difference between fairytales and the terrifying reality of facing evil.

Zelda took a trembling breath as she watched what was once a man morph into a horrific monster. Darkness choked the air, swirling around like the winds of a hurricane. Link's blade glowed blue against it as he stood guard over the fallen Gerudo warrior, Hemisi. The air was sucked out of her lungs, and Zelda trembled at the overwhelming malice that dripped off the beast's tusks, at the heart stopping terror such evil magic brought, at how her entire body was paralyzed in the moment.

The stories told of a demon king who sought to destroy Hyrule again and again. Her father had never believed such stories, had grossly underestimated the man who brought such destruction back to their land. Zelda had known Ganondorf housed this evil, and yet...

Witnessing it was more overwhelming than she could have ever imagined.

The dark beast roared, stomping its feet, ready to devour its prey.

"Link!" Zelda called, feeling utterly helpless.

But she couldn't be helpless! She refused to be! She'd been helpless her entire life, and only recently had she started taking charge of her own destiny. But she knew this destiny was written in the stars, woven with a golden thread of the goddesses themselves. They wouldn't fail - they couldn't. And she had a part to play in it.

Inexperienced of the world as she was, Zelda was not a fool. And she refused to be a coward.

Hemisi slowly rose to her feet behind Link, looking at what her father had turned into, face pale with horror.

Link roared back at the beast, ready to fight.

Zelda channeled her Light within her, pushing the darkness at bay, sending diamond-like shards of magic towards her Hero. "Link, use these!"

Link leapt into the air to catch the shards, which turned into Light-infused kunai. After a moment to register what had just happened, a feral grin pulled at his face, and he bared his teeth against the enemy.

As Link charged ahead to face down the enormous beast, Hemisi looked back at the princess. "Hey! Lend me some of that magic, will you?"

Zelda watched her hesitantly, but she grimaced when Link narrows missed getting impaled by the dark beast's enormous tusks. Swallowing, she nodded, channeling her power and sending Light to the Gerudo, who caught it and watched it materialize into a glowing bow and arrows.

Nodding in thanks, Hemisi turned and stared down the beast, slowly taking aim.

Zelda brought her hands to her chest in prayer, begging the goddeses to aid them, allowing her power to create a barrier between them and the rest of the world, and the true battle for Hyrule began.

[elialys]

Per your lovely, lovely flawed show tag, I am curious what you think the flaws of Fringe are?

I’m sorry it took me so long to answer, I got distracted!

Fringe definitely had its share of flaws. I won’t even address the ones that can “be excused” by the fact that it was a show made before/early 2010s in terms of representations/inclusions, because you know, it is what it is.

I think my biggest ‘regret’/annoyance has always been the writers’ tendency to…shove traumas under a rug, or to not properly (if at all) talk about the consequences of some events that happened. I get that they had to make the characters go through a lot of drama because that’s the point of stories, especially on TV shows that have over 20 episodes per season, but the characters suffered through some terrible stuff time and time again, and they were just FINE. And it’s not like they didn’t know how to do it!

I’ve always loved the first few episodes of season 2 because they showed recovery. Olivia had a bad car accident, then she had to kill “Charlie”, and it took her time to get better from all of that, not just physically but emotionally, too. And yet, over and over again after that, she goes through horrible things and there’s…almost nothing? Like, I adore Marionette, I think it’s a brilliant episode through & through, but I still can’t believe Olivia went through all the shit she went through Over There (and coming back) and didn’t have some serious PTSD, on top of EVERYTHING ELSE she’d already gone through (aka why I wrote Shivered Bones). Peter too was barely allowed to mention what Walter did to him after he came back at the end of season 2, barely ever allowed to mention what Altlivia did to him either, except in some awkward bits of dialogue (I will discuss Peter’s character a bit more later).

Also, the whole REWRITING THE TIMELINE at the end of season 3?? Biggest cop-out. I mean, I’ve never hid the fact that any kind of ‘amnesia’ plot is honestly one of my LEAST favorite tropes, in anything. From the moment that season started airing and Peter reappeared being a complete stranger, I just disliked that so much on principle. But what will always pain me is how by doing so, the writers completely erased not just Peter but THE FIRST THREE SEASONS.

Like, poof, gone.

(adding a 'keep reading' because this is long 😂)

Conveniently, it erased Baby!Henry in the process, which the writers might have felt would be too much of an issue? Personally I would have loved to see that unfold. I know I’ve discussed this before on this blog, probably more than once, but they could have kept SO MUCH of season 4 the way it was, as far as the Bridge was concerned, could have come up with a brand new Vilain to do all the “NEW UNIVERSE” stuff Bell/Jones tried to do, while our core characters had to deal with the consequences of everything that happened in season 3 (including Peter being a dad, WITHOUT trying to force a stupid ‘love triangle’ down our throats, thank you). It would have made for great, impactful family drama, because who are we kidding. Anyone who loves Fringe typically loves it because it is such an emotional, family drama. So yes, I will forever mourn the universe(s) we had season 1-3, and endlessly daydream about what could have been.

Now let me talk about Peter Bishop, it’s been a hot minute. Peter Bishop, who was hated basically the entire time the show was airing, and still now is strongly disliked by a lot of viewers, and honestly, I can’t blame them? I’ve had over a decade to analyze his character, have spent hundreds of hours writing stories from his POV, explaining his traumas & mistakes, have written giant meta posts about him back in the days to explain his behavior, so I’m not exactly objective, but I’m also very honest about how flawed his character is. Not (just) as a human being, which is normal because humans are flawed. I mean, he’s flawed in the way the writers used him/wrote him.

He’s probably the most inconsistent of all the characters. He’s the character who suffered the most from the ‘let’s make this person act out a certain way to make sure it fits our plot’ syndrome.  I will never forgive the writers for how…clueless (for lack of a better word), they wrote Peter in early season 3 during the Switch. Yes, Peter was traumatized as a kid, yes he was in love, yes yes, I know all of that, I’ve written endlessly about it to explain his cluelessness so I know.

Still, Peter should have figured it out. Peter as we saw him in season 1 and 2, especially second half of season 2, would have figured out. He figured out BY HIMSELF that he was from another universe, ‘just’ from his dad and Olivia’s weird behaviors and the fact that he didn’t go ‘POOF’ on that bridge in 2x18. Peter went to another universe, he met Olivia’s alternate. He’d just spent weeks running from his life, trying to accept the fact that he was lied to all of his life. At best, he was suspicious, at worst, he was paranoid (as was mentioned in 2x20 in Northwest Passage). Literally 3 days after he gets to THAT OTHER UNIVERSE, and 3 hours after meeting Olivia’s doppelganger, Olivia ‘I hide from my own emotions’ Dunham comes tell him he belongs with her and smooches him, so he goes home. Yet the writers want me to believe Peter would not have still been reeling from EVERYTHING that just happened in his life, and not be a bit on edge?

Like, ‘damn, the woman I love and have come to know quite well these past 2 years is suddenly SO DIFFERENT? ALMOST LIKE SHE’S ANOTHER PERSON? A BIT LIKE THAT ALTERNATE VERSION OF HER I MET 48H AGO, THAT’S NOT A COINCIDENCE AT ALL’. But nope, Peter just accepts it, EVERY CHARACTER on that side just accepts it, when Lincoln and Charlie keep on looking at our Olivia like “Is this chick for real? WHAT IF THEY SWITCHED THEM?”

I’m forever frustrated. It just doesn’t feel believable to me, never has. It feels like the writers went “we want everyone, and especially Peter, to be clueless the entire time so we can write our drama the way we planned it.” And that’s a shame, honestly, because that whole damn arc is already so good as it is. But it would been even better if Peter HAD figured it out, if he’d kept on pretending for a bit, if HE’D conned Altlivia the way she conned him. Like I mentioned before, Olivia already went through so much trauma during the Switch, they could have found ways to make her miserable upon coming back, without Peter having slept with her alternate for a few weeks—and the knowledge that he didn’t realize what was going on. More daydreaming on my part about what could have been.

I could go on when it comes to the way they wrote Peter honestly. The whole “maybe Peter has feelings for the other Olivia” crap in the second half of s3, and “the universe that will survive depends on which Olivia Peter chooses”, excuse me??? Altlivia basically abused him??? She used him in so many ways, including sexually. She wasn’t even herself, she was pretending, playing him the whole time. HOW IS HE SUPPOSED TO HAVE FEELINGS EXCEPT A LOT OF SELF-LOATHING AND MORE UNRESOLVED TRAUMA?

Anyway, I think you get my vibe and why I’ll forever be sad/mad about this. As a writer & storyteller myself, one of my strengths and favorite aspects of writing is figuring out the characters’ motivations, what drives them, and how it makes them behave. Peter’s character is just…wobbly, during those arcs. He’s inconsistent from plotline to plotline, and it feels off to me. He’s a lot more true and consistent to how I understand him in season 4, but in season 3, he’s a hot mess, meant as a plot device more than anything else, and that makes me sad. Characters are what drive stories and shape the plot, not the other way around. So yeah, I don’t blame people for always having such strong opinions/dislikes where Peter is concerned.

I could come up with more things, but this is already long enough 😂 In case that wasn’t clear, those flaws don’t stop me from having the deepest love for this show. What it did well, it did extremely well, and even all those years later, I still cry rewatching it, because the emotions were real. They're still real.

Plus it gave me Olivia Dunham, so really, it wins just for that.

[bestworstcase]

Great, now a couple more questions about the life-death-rebirth cycle come to mind. Namely, isn’t it some level of unfair to punish characters who “break the rules” by resurrecting the dead when they don’t know that’s a rule in the first place?

Take Pietro. He had no idea about Remnant’s past nor any way to learn about it (the only conceivable courses are the relic spirits, which are off limits without a Maiden, and Lewis, who is dead and likely never told anyone beyond what he wrote), so why should he and Penny suffer for it?

Heck, you could make a similar argument for Salem and even the GoD, but really, I’d like to hear what this says about the GoL. He created and strictly enforced the entire false paradigm of death being eternal. Sooo… what about him?

(Sorry if I’m asking too many questions, you just have so many amazing insights.)

in the case of pietro and penny, it’s less about punishing wrongdoing than it is just a natural consequence of the way penny is treated (not just by pietro but by the whole system of the atlesian military) – why does she suffer? because her father built her as a living weapon owned by his very powerful employers and brought her back, after beacon, into a situation where she had zero autonomy. it’s implied that penny literally does not have down time – she’s either working or in standby mode, no time for friends. and when she breaks away from ironwood, he gets so obsessed with forcing her back under his control that he winds up treating salem assaulting his city as a secondary concern.

this has nothing whatsoever to do with some sort of cosmic punishment for “breaking rules” – there aren’t any rules at all, besides the arbitrary ones the brothers tried to impose and light is (notionally) still trying to enforce. the point is that abrogating someone’s personhood, taking away their autonomy in this manner, is wrong because it inflicts grievous harm on that person. and in a setting where death isn’t an ending but rather a moment of transition between the old life and the new, where nothing can happen to you except what you want to happen, it’s wrong to take that choice away from someone by bringing them back.

that’s not to say it would necessarily turn out badly every time – for example, in a world where the brothers decided to relax, salem and ozma would’ve been fine, probably; millions of years later when ozma’s given the chance to return to her, he eagerly takes it. but there’s always, inescapably, that dimension of wrongness. of not letting go. of not letting the person you love choose. (& this is why salem did the right thing in not ever trying to bring ozma back herself after the gods fucked off.)

the narrative explores this with penny through the extreme control she’s subjected to in life. she isn’t allowed to leave. she isn’t allowed to make her own choices. she isn’t even allowed to die, because the atlas military considers her its property, and her father loves her very much and is also cheerfully complicit in this system right until the moment his daughter gets branded a traitor.

pietro knowing or not knowing about the distant past or the arbitrary rules set by the gods doesn’t matter. what is salient is that he knows what he’s bringing his daughter back into – the military machine of atlas in which she is, against her will, a mere cog. and he’s fine with that.

(i do think it’s sort of interesting how blasé he is about penny being the protector of mantle early in v7, before public opinion turns against her; this is a dimension of his overprotectiveness that often gets overlooked, but pietro is completely fine with penny being atlas’s robotic supersoldier. similar to his blithe lack of concern about mantle’s network security, pietro has several massive blindspots because he has very much drunk the atlesian exceptionalism koolaid)

and eventually that view of penny – doesn’t matter if she dies, we’ll just bring her back; doesn’t matter if she’s unhappy, she’ll do what we built her to do with a smile on her face; doesn’t matter what she thinks or feels or wants, she’s under control – was going to come due. inevitably. in the same way that rhodes training cinder to fight and then putting a weapon in her hand had obvious, completely predictable consequences.

what happened with salem is a whole different kettle of fish because she is being punished – tortured, really – for not even breaking but just questioning an arbitrary rule that had no basis in reality. and of course that’s unfair; that injustice is the beating heart of the story because salem was and is right to loathe the brothers as tyrannical monsters. all she did was pray to both of them for something light didn’t want her to have.

and then light’s issue fundamentally is that he doesn’t understand destruction, and therefore disdains and fears it, so change terrified him and he’s obsessed with control. very much in the same mold as ironwood; by the time it gets to the point of light setting up the divine ultimatum it’s less about the original sin than his fixation on salem as The Aberration Who Must Be Corrected (By Punishing Her Until She Submits).

[evilphrog]

Watching Wheel of Time without reading the books: Season 2 Episode 3

Rand gets Pretty Womaned. Perrin has to once again make a choice between the hammer and the axe, and once again lets someone else make that choice for him. Nynaeve is missing, presumed dead, until she literally breaks the laws of physics to get back home because nobody tells her what she can and cannot do, not even reality. Egwene never stops believing in her. Mat escapes with the psychic bartender, but it was actually all orchestrated by the biggest bitch on the wheel.

Rand is the personal attendant to the False Dragon, who is now more of a lizard. He desperately begs to be taught how to control his powers before he suffers the same fate, but Lizard was never all that empathetic to begin with, and now he is actively suicidal. He agrees to teach Rand everything he knows, at the price of some fancy wine. Rand knows exactly how to earn that, and turns on the charm for his landlady. Selene really skeeves me out, for more reasons than just the predatory relationship with a barely legal guy who is clearly very mentally ill. I think it is the way she keeps trying to pretend this is more than a transactional relationship? The way she plays at romance, while still reminding Rand at every turn that she holds all the power? The way she pouts at him when he refuses to play along? I don't know, maybe she just has a sinister personality.

She gets him the wine, and an invitation to a dinner. He makes friends with some older lady who looks like Moiraine in disguise, who snarks at him about how much rich people suck. Okay, Not!Moiraine, way to hypocrite all over the place. Anyways, Rand is incredibly upset to realize the lady that has been preying on him is also preying on other desperate souls, so he runs off to Lizard. Lizard approves of the wine, and delivers the entirety of his advice: accept the madness and eventual death, because there is no way to avoid it. He then returns home where his landlady assaults him, and then they bang. Or maybe he just fell asleep and had a sex dream/hallucination. Either way, he accidentally Mannels, and burns down her inn. She rushes from the flames to find him, and I still get the feeling she's just Off.

Perrin and his friends have all been captured, except his Wolf Buddy who looks like Discount Heimdal. These are apparently the Seachan I have heard so much about. I now realize it is pronounced Shaun John, not See Chan. If there are no special effects from here on out, at least the rest of the budget was well spent on the Shaun John costumes. They are creepy as hell. Nancy Reagan is with them for reasons yet to be explained, and he keeps checking out Perrin. They take the Eyepatch guy up to force him to swear fealty to their throne, and immediately kill him when he refuses. Everyone else submits without question, though Perrin is still angry about it.

At some point he must have been knocked unconscious, because he wakes up alone, chained up in a carriage with Nancy Reagan. This dude is playing jumprope with the line between sweet grandfather and sexual predator. He wolf-baits Perrin, and comes out as the Dark One, which is still a lie. Perrin asks what he wants with him, and Nancy leans in like he is about to kiss him, and says he wants Perrin to be his. GAAAAAAYYYYYY. Heimdal and the wolves break Perrin out, and Perrin wants to rescue the others. Heimdal has another plan. Run away. Perrin follows along, but I sense some complaining in his future. He hates the choices other people make for him, but goes along with them because he still can't handle the thought of being responsible for another major mistake after his last one. Someone should tell him that choosing to follow orders is still a choice, and he is still responsible for the consequences of his choice. I fear he is going to find that out the hard way.

So onto Nynaeve, the heavy hitter of the episode. She is presented with an opportunity to walk through the swamp three arches, where she will face her greatest fears without even the force one power to protect her. If she succeeds, she will become a true Jedi master Accepted Aes Sedai. Her three greatest fears are really all the same fear. Watching people she loves suffer and die and choosing to leave them to their fate rather than fighting to save them. First up is her parents, then the Two Rivers folk, and finally, a brief flash of visions that end with her covered in blood. That last one haunts her so badly that she chooses to leave the tower, run away with Lan, and PSYCH! She was in the arches the entire time. She didn't even notice the archway return for her.

When the arch lit up and faded, the head Aes Sedai all realize she has been lost forever. The Principal of Novice School wallows in guilt, but has enough left over to remind JK Rowling that her self-righteousness won't actually wash away the blood on her hands. JK actually seems to feel shame, which I wasn't sure she was capable of before. She is suddenly more complex than the cardboard cutout lunch room bully she has been up until now. No more likeable, but painfully realistic with her ability to justify any and all actions as a defense against the deep self-loathing she can't afford to face. We all know someone like this. Someone so dedicated to their cause that they can't see the fact that they have become the exact thing they claim to fight against. In this case, She Woman Man Hater, Protector of Girls Everywhere has manipulated and murdered a young woman by treating her as a tool to power, rather than a person. But she doesn't have a penis, so she must still be Good. Right? Right? Her shields are failing. I wonder if she thought she loved Nynaeve, in whatever way her shriveled husk of a soul could comprehend love.

Egwene has recovered from her self-pity sleepover with Elayne, and is committed to appreciating Nynaeve a lot more. She goes to wake her up for school, but finds the Principal there instead. Principal stiffly and woodenly informs Egwene of Nynaeve's death and then walks out, in a way that seems cold to Egwene, but like she is inches from breaking down sobbing to the audience who saw her earlier performance. Elayne tries to comfort Egwene in her sincere, awkward way, but Egwene has just lost her final tie to home, and is not ready to pour her heart out to someone she met yesterday. Read the room, Elayne. Not that you have ever had this skill. Aren't princesses supposed to get etiquette training? She must have failed that class.

JK Rowling does find a way to blame a man after all. She WOULD have prepared Nynaeve properly, if only she hadn't been stuck tormenting Mat for no real reason except that she likes manipulating people. It is really all his fault, for being so manipulable. She releases him, after delivering a scathing rant about her own insecurities projected onto him. Someone in that room is certainly an insidious coward who mistakes their own moral failings for cunning and wallows in self pity. He and Min make a run for it, but Min goes back for a quick chat that serves no purpose except to let us the viewer know she's been working with JK all along.

Egwene goes to the arches, and pours everything she has into opening the archway for Nynaeve, but it just isn't enough. Elayne comes by for a second attempt at comfort. She is able to convince Egwene to stop trying to kill herself by overchanneling at the arches, but promises to sit with her until she's ready to leave. Maybe she CAN learn how humans work after all.

Nynaeve, meanwhile, has been living peacefully in a fantasy similar to Rand's. She and Lan are happily married, with a rambunctious daughter. They live in the Two Rivers with Mat and Perrin, and get letters from the Powerful and Amazing Egwene Sedai. After many happy years, however, her home is invaded by trollocs. She has to hide her daughter in a cellar, while she tries to fight, in a clear parallel to her own memories of losing her parents. The adults do their best, but Mat, Perrin, and Lan all die brutally within seconds of each other. Nynaeve rages so hard that she channels inside the arches. Okay, I understand. Her biggest fear is that being an Aes Sedai will keep her from protecting her loved ones because her duty will come first. She has overcome it by realizing that her power is the one thing that could have saved them all. But now for the final test. Her daughter comes upstairs for a hug, just as the archway appears. Nynaeve knows she must walk through, but she can't abandon her child to her fate. So she gathers up the girl and rushes through, only to emerge empty-handed and covered in blood to a shocked Egwene, who hugs her as she cries. Was that life ever actually real? Is there a world out there where a little girl closed her eyes and trusted her mother to carry her to safety, only to end up helpless and alone against a horde of monsters and the corpses of her family? Nynaeve will never know. Congratulations on becoming an Accepted, and on never knowing peace again.

Other episode reviews

[dreamersbcll]

And when I call, you come home

but you had to go, i know, i know, i know

(Feliz Día de los Muertos, everyone)

——————————————————————————

When Tara had asked Sam to build an Ofrenda this year, she never imagined that it would be one for Amber Freeman.

Sam wasn’t a stranger to an Ofrenda or to Día de los Muertos itself. Before Tara’s father left, the Carpenter’s made one every year after Halloween. The sisters would spend days leading up to the holiday painting pictures, cutting out drawings, and baking food for their past loved ones. Though the sisters didn’t know their dead Abuela very well, their mother did, and that was enough.

If she closed her eyes and pictures the past Ofrendas, she could practically taste the Pan dulce her mother made and the smell of Arroz con leche simmering on the stove.

It was strange coming back to her sister and bringing more death with her. Sam knows that Tara went through hell without her, but she never imagined that she would bring dead bodies with her when she came back to Woodsboro.

The devil never cared who it took back to hell with him. All he did was take and never return.

Yet, Sam wasn’t so sure that God was listening either. She had spent too many nights kneeling on hardwood floors; her rosary pressed into her palms so hard that it left a trail of cuts through her skin. No matter the pain or suffering she or Tara went through, God was silent. It was like their prayers were just an echo, bouncing back through them instead of making their way to heaven.

That didn’t quite matter anymore. Sam had Tara safe now, and she could play God and ensure Tara survived. She would play God if that were what it took to keep her little sister alive—because she wasn’t afraid of death. She laughed in the face of it, teeth bared, hands out, ready to fight. Nothing could stop her from backing down, not even detaching himself.

Tara was afraid. She was scared of death and its consequences. Sam could see it quite clearly now. She never really understood why Tara cried so hard when the twin’s dog died or why her little sister held her breath when they passed graveyards. It all seemed futile to fear something that would always happen anyway. No one could escape death. It was all going to happen for them anyway.

So here Sam was, helping finish the final touches of Amber Freeman’s Ofrenda. A photo portrait of the girl sat in the middle, scattered rose petals and several types of canned soda all over the table. There was a work teddy bear, presumably Tara’s, propped against the photo. Bags of candies and chips were scattered alike, a few polaroids of the young girls holding hands placed delicately on the table.

Sam wasn’t fond of the girl, not even by a long shot. The fact that she had dated her little sister was enough to make Sam want to smash up the photo frame and set fire to the table itself. But she wasn’t going to do that. It was the Day of the Dead, and though she hated Amber Freeman, she respected the traditions she grew up with.

Tara stepped back, slipping the lighter in her pocket. The candle by Amber’s photo flickered in the still air, signaling that Amber was crossing over to the land of the living. Sam could feel Tara’s breath pick up, and she saw her little sister’s body tense. Even though Tara wasn’t supposed to be standing for longer than an hour, her little sister was still upright after hour three.

If Sam could, she would force Tara back into bed and dote on her every need.

But that’s not what Tara wanted, and Sam had to respect that. Sam was the one who ruined their relationship first, and she had respected their new boundaries.

“I miss her,” Tara softly said, her hands limp at her side.

Sam snapped her head up from staring at the floorboards, struggling to keep the venom out of her tone. Various retorts and snide comments sat on her tongue, waiting to be used. But she couldn’t. So she swallowed them back and tried to respond evenly.

“Why?” Sam replied, her voice strangled.

Before answering, Tara gently tangled her fingers with Sam’s, squeezing her older sister’s hand tightly. Sam froze at the action, not expecting such contact after years of craving it.

She had to play it cool. This day isn't about her. It was about the dead.

Her little sister spoke quietly, her voice meek. “She didn’t love me like I loved her. I know that. She was my everything, and I was just an experience for her. But love doesn’t go away just because she’s gone. I love her still,” Tara paused, licking her lips. “-And I know you hate that.”

Sam cringed, her eyes closing in the shame of being caught. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing Tara’s hand.

The two stood there for a moment, observing the Ofrenda quietly. Sam swallowed hard and found the words she was struggling to string together.

“I hate that. You’re right. But she’s important to you, and for the next few days, we will honor that. For the next few days, we will let her linger in our lives as a shadow and say goodbye to her,” she said, pausing to look at Tara.

Her little sister looked up at her, tear-filled eyes shining with love and gratitude. Sam smiled, squeezing Tara’s hand.

“But after this, we let her go. And we honor each other and love each other every day, okay? You and I will handle everything together now. I’m here. She will leave us in a few days. I’m here.”

She wasn’t so sure if she was convincing Tara or herself.

Tara paused for a few minutes, sniffling and whimpering softly. Sam just held her sister’s hand, her heart aching. Every bone inside her wanted to bring Tara in and keep her close. But they weren’t there yet. Hand-holding was risky enough, and Sam didn’t want to ruin what they had right now. One day, maybe more. But not today.

Quietly, Tara replied, her voice husky with tears. “I don’t want to make an Ofrenda for you anytime soon. I want you to stay. Just stay alive. It doesn’t have to be with me.”

“Por favor, no me hagas encender una vela por tu memoria,” Tara said softly, squeezing Sam’s hand tightly.

Sam stiffened at the request, her own eyes welling up. Selfishly, Sam never thought that anyone would care if she died. Nobody should, anyway. She could never hold a perfect thing and not demolish it. Destruction was all she knew. Death was always knocking. Sam Carpenter was not immortal and very well capable of ending her life on a whim.

But Tara still cared. She didn’t know how or why— as all Sam did was cut Tara down to the bone.

Yet here she was, holding her little sister’s hand, staring at an Ofrenda of an ex-girlfriend while her little sister expressed her love for Sam.

Perhaps there were still beautiful things. Maybe she was deserving of forgiveness.

Maybe the sisters could love each other like they once did.

Without looking at her sister, Sam spoke softly, barely above a whisper. She couldn’t push the words past her lips any louder than that, in fear of coming undone in front of her already emotionally unstable little girl.

“Siempre estaré aquí. Ahora estoy aquí. No me iré—Te quiero, Mi Cielo. I will always love you, and I am staying as long as you want me.”

Tara nodded and wiped her tears off her cheek. “Forever. I want you forever. I love you too, Sam.”

While the sisters basked in the love they confessed, the candle flickering by Amber’s photo portrait slowly flickered out, signaling the end of an era.

[goldenboywrites]

where do we go from here?

Apollo sat in his study, reading over the latest contracts. The requests for Cassio’s potions far exceeded what the two could handle, but they didn’t have a choice. It was either to fulfill the orders or suffer the consequences. The consequence had been the same over the years since graduation; Oliver and Isaac’s safety. It was something the two could not risk. So they worked overtime to make the potions and send them out, and they both ignored the lingering question regarding what these people were doing with them. It was better not to know, or it would drive them insane. He signed the latest contracts. As soon as the ink dried, the contracts glowed a dull red before disappearing from his grasp. “That takes care of that,” He muttered, pushing a hand through his hair. 

Apollo pushed himself to his feet, stretched, and ignored the popping of his bones, which confirmed that he had been sitting there for far too long. He ventured out of the study, waving his hand over the door to place an illusion over his work in case Isaac entered. Even after years of secrecy, it never got easier. Doing all of this behind Isaac’s back had never gotten easier. It would never get easier. But it was to protect him. To protect them and the life they had built together. 

He only made it so far from his study when his phone rang. The sound nearly gave him a heart attack because he never expected the damn thing to be on. “Yeah?” He answered it without checking the name. There were only three people who ever called him. 

“Mr. Maddox?” an unfamiliar voice asked. Apollo pulled the phone away from his ear to see who it was, but it was an unknown number. Dread filled his bones. His immediate thought went to it being his employer, but they never called him before. “ My name is Healer Emerson. I am a medwizard at St. Mungos. I need you to come down here as soon as possible.” 

The phone almost slipped from his grasp. “What?” 

“It is best if you come here so we can talk.” 

Isaac. 

He trembled his way over to their fireplace, and before he knew it, Apollo was standing in the St. Mungo’s waiting room. On shaky feet, he made his way over to the desk, gave his name, and waited impatiently. His fingers drummed against his legs; his feet tapped incessantly against the ground. Please don’t be Isaac. Please don’t be Isaac. 

“Mr. Maddox?” Apollo glanced up and saw an older man standing in front of him. His badge confirmed this was the healer that called him. 

“Is he okay?” He asked desperately. 

“He is doing just fine. Would you like to see him?” 

Entering the room, Apollo was taken aback. “I think you have me confused with someone else. I’m here for my boyfriend.” He glanced around the room, taking in the colors and cartoon animal wallpaper. “This is…” 

The healer’s brow furrowed, and he pulled back a curtain to reveal a smaller toddler curled up in a hospital bed. “Your boyfriend? No, you are the emergency contact for Theodore Whitlock…” Apollo tilted his head, looking at the child. He could have been two or three years old. So, this little guy belonged to Alexandria. The woman Apollo had almost been forced to marry to continue their pureblood line. They hadn’t spoken since he was in uni. Why would she have made Apollo the emergency contact for her son? 

“I don’t understand,” He said softly, finally pulling his gaze away from the child and over to the healer. 

The doctor looked one step away from admitting Apollo to the hospital. “Sir…” he said uneasily, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "This is your son. We have been unable to locate Alexandria. A neighbor brought Theodore in yesterday when she did not return home to pick him up, and she could not reach her. We have been unable to contact her as well. We pulled his records, and you are listed as the father on his birth certificate. You are also his emergency contact. Hence, we are contacting you to pick him up."

This wasn’t his son. Not biologically, that was for sure. But why would she have listed him without forewarning him? “I didn’t know..” He said as he mulled the pieces together in his head. He did not want to give too much away to the healer. There must be some reason she would go to the lengths she had to forge his signature on her son’s birth certificate. “Of course, I will take him, and I’ll handle reaching out to the authorities to track her down, too. But can I…I'm sorry. Can I have a moment?” 

The healer was barely out of the room before Apollo had his phone out again and prayed that Isaac wouldn’t leave him over this. Isaac answered on the first ring. There were a handful of moments when Apollo tried to speak but couldn’t. It wasn’t until he heard the alarm in his boyfriend’s voice that he forced himself to say, “It’s me. I’m at St. Mungos. Can you come?”

@magiclwritings