#but the prison references. constant. it is CONSTANT

[saltywinteradult]

How is Dany is abusive to Jon?

Honest question, I’ve never given it a thought

I'm sorry this took me so long, anon, and I am really sorry for how long this post got. I had a lot of thoughts on this.

Before we begin, I'd like to point you to this compilation of Jon's reactions to Dany, which hardly paints a picture of a man who is happy and in love, as well as this post and this gifset, both pointing out the parallels between Jon's relationship with Dany and Sansa's relationship with Littlefinger, the latter being a relationship I hope most people can agree is abusive.

It's absolutely crucial to remember that in this relationship, Dany is the person with the power. She is the one with the dragons and the biggest army, and she is willing to both use and abuse that power to get her way.

Furthermore, Dany wants the North's loyalty, but the North needs her help. (The fact that it's Dany's duty as well as in her own best interest to help fight the Others is a different discussion; she doesn't seem to understand this anyway.) She has agreed to grant that help, but she could easily withdraw it if she chooses. She has more power than literally anyone else and there's simply no escaping that power imbalance - it permeates every single interaction Dany has with Jon and all the other Northerners for all of s7 and the first half of s8.

I want you to remember how Dany treats Jon on Dragonstone. His weapons and his boat are taken away immediately upon his arrival. She says Jon is "not yet" her prisoner, but 1) that line very clearly implies that she could make him her prisoner if she chooses to, and 2) how much does it really matter that Jon is "not yet" her prisoner when she's already taken away his means of defending himself or leaving the island? Remember how she later tells him "I haven't given you permission to leave." Girl, what happened to Jon not being your prisoner?

I think it's also very telling that Dany never once addresses Jon by his proper title of King in the North, even before he bends the knee. As you may recall, Dany cares a great deal about titles. She never grants Jon the same respect she demands for herself, and she likes to remind Jon that she is his Queen even during a supposedly intimate, romantic scene.

(Gif by yocalio via gameofthronesdaily)

Earlier in this scene, Dany pointed out that they could stay here in this secluded spot, away from the kingdom and its politics, and no one would find them. Yet even here, away from the rest of the world, she makes a point of referring to herself as "your Queen".

I point all of this out to illustrate that from the very beginning and throughout their relationship, Dany views Jon as a subordinate, not an equal. That is very much not a good foundation for a healthy and equal romantic relationship. Her constant expectation is that Jon will submit, obey, give things up to benefit her, and ensure that the people he has power over act the way she wants.

Case in point:

"Your sister doesn't like me. [...] She doesn't need to be my friend, but I am her Queen. If she can't respect me..."

The implication is that Sansa is doing something wrong by not liking or respecting Dany (meaning "not acting deferential enough for Dany's taste"). The fact that Dany is saying this to Jon and not to Sansa herself implies that it's Jon's responsibility to ensure that Sansa behaves acceptably. "If she can't respect me..." Then what? What exactly is she implying will be the consequences? That their romantic relationship will end? Something worse?

At this point, the North has bent the knee to Dany. As their monarch this is not an entirely unreasonable thing to ask of her subjects - but it's not a very reasonable thing for a girlfriend to ask of her boyfriend, is it? The line between Jon and Dany's political relationship as monarch and subject and their personal relationship as girlfriend and boyfriend isn't just blurred, it's practically nonexistent. To state the obvious, there is a reason we decided that absolute monarchies are bad here in the real world. There is also a reason why a boss dating a subordinate is frowned upon in the real world. Big power imbalances are a bad idea in general and in romantic relationships especially. They should at the very least be considered and navigated carefully. Dany not only fails to do so; she is only happy with her and Jon's relationship when she has power over him.

For proof, let's look at how she reacts when that power imbalance is upended by the revelation of Jon's true identity:

This revelation is a bombshell for Jon. Everything he thought he knew about his own origins turns out to be untrue. However, Dany's first and only thought is how this affects her. Her first reaction is denial and scepticism; the second is to turn cold as soon as she realises that this makes Jon a threat to her ambitions.

There's also this line:

"A secret no one in the world knew, except your brother and your best friend. Doesn't seem strange to you?"

Which implies... What, exactly? That Sam and Bran made this up? Why? Just like with Sansa in the previous scene, we see Dany questioning the actions and intentions of Jon's loved ones. Remember that.

Things escalate in episode 4:

Dany is faced with the notion that Jon might hold more political power than she thought, that they might actually be on somewhat equal footing, and this makes her unhappy.

"I want it to be the way it was between us."

Her desire is to continue their sexual relationship and to return to the previous status quo where she held more power than him and therefore didn't consider him a threat. Jon having a stronger claim to the throne than her threatens Dany's sense of her own identity and purpose, and she reacts by trying to deny and suppress this reality:

"You can say nothing, to anyone, ever! Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else! Or it will take on a life of its own and you won't be able to control it or what it does to people!"

(Imagine this with the genders reversed. Yikes.)

Dany is demanding Jon keep his own identity secret from his own family. That's not a reasonable thing to ask of a person you love. Not for one second does she show any consideration for how Jon might feel or what Jon might want. It's all about her. Her expectation is that Jon suppress his own identity, his own reality, to benefit Dany's ambitions. Never once does it seem to occur to Dany that what Jon does with this secret is up to him to decide, not her. His agency is of no concern to her.

Jon: I have to tell Sansa and Arya. Dany: Sansa will want to see me gone and you on the Iron Throne. [...] She's not the girl you grew up with. Not after what she's seen, not after what they've done to her. [...] Jon: They're my family. We can live together. Dany: We can. I've just told you how.

Here we are again with Dany questioning the motives and agendas of Jon's loved ones. Now she's no longer implying but outright stating that they're working against her. What we have here is a pattern of Dany implying that Jon's loved ones are up to no good and can't be trusted. I don't need to explain why that is a dangerous and manipulative thing to do to one's partner, right?

I also want you to pay extra attention to how Emilia delivers that final line. Throughout the whole scene Dany is distraught and desperate, but at this point she turns cold and closed off with an unmistakable anger that Jon won't agree to do as she demands. It is very hard not to read a threatening undertone into that line. "Keep it secret, or else."

Before we move on to episode 5, I'd like to highlight this line, spoken by Dany to Tyrion and Varys in episode 4:

"Speaking to Cersei will not prevent a slaughter. But perhaps it's good the people see that Daenerys Stormborn made every effort to avoid bloodshed, and Cersei Lannister refused. They should know whom to blame when the sky falls down upon them."

Let's be clear on one thing here: Cersei could choose to back down and surrender to avoid bloodshed - but, and I cannot stress this enough, so could Dany. Cersei and Dany are both being selfish and power-hungry by refusing to give up the throne in order to avoid bloodshed. But to admit that would ruin Dany's deeply rooted self-image as morally superior to her enemies. So what does she do instead? She deflects blame. She's the one with the dragons, but if she makes the sky fall down on people, as she puts it, it's not her fault. Keep that in mind.

Now for the absolute low point:

"What did I say would happen if you told your sister? [...] She betrayed your trust. She killed Varys as much as I did. This was a victory for her. Now she knows what happens when people hear the truth about you."

Okay. Varys was conspiring against Dany, which he could've chosen not to do; I guess Dany was within her rights to punish him. She still could've chosen to imprison him, or at least give him a trial. Nobody made her kill him. But as we've just seen, Dany doesn't like to accept responsibility for her own decisions. She'd rather deflect the blame onto the people who displease her.

What's more, she's not just blaming Sansa for Varys's death but Jon as well, for telling Sansa the secret in the first place - which Jon was well within his rights to do! He never agreed not to tell anyone. That wasn't up to Dany to decide in the first place. Jon did what he wanted to do and not what she wanted him to do, so now everything Dany does as a result of Jon's actions is Jon's fault? Do I even need to explain how shitty this is?

"Far more people in Westeros love you than love me. I don't have love here. I only have fear."

This is entirely true. She never stops to think about why Jon is more beloved in Westeros than she is, but whatever. What's important is that after this, Dany initiates a kiss and Jon rebuffs her.

(Gifs from snowsource)

"Alright then. Let it be fear."

Again, what exactly do we think she's implying here? Remember the context. During this conversation, Jon already told her "you will always be my queen". He hasn't rejected her as his queen (which at this point he damn well should), he's just rejecting her sexual advances. And yet, Dany's reaction to his personal rejection of her is to embrace "fear", which again refers to how all of Westeros sees her, not just Jon. Dany already deflected blame for her previous actions onto people who displeased her including Jon, and now she's deflecting the blame for her future actions in the same way. And we all know what she did after this, don't we? I don't know how the line "let it be fear" can mean anything other than "you rejected me and that's why I'm going to embrace being feared, so whatever I do now in the name of being feared is really your fault. Look what you made me do." If that isn't abuse, I don't know what is.

[givehimthemedicine]

house arrest and boarded up homes

I was thinking about how the only times we ever see Vecna anywhere except at the Creel house (I mean literally in Vecna form) it's in visions, right? which he's conducting from the UD attic, really? can he leave the house?

so then I got thinking about all the "trapped at home" themes on ST and especially the boarded up exits in visions. far from a new revelation, there's not really gonna be anything "new" in this post - but I never realized how extensive it is (this isn't even attempting to be a complete roundup due to photo limit) or thought about what that means for him

OKAY Creelers, your homes are prisons... we got it... smth smth Karen trying to trap her kids at home and in turn being trapped there herself by allying with Brenner...

anyway onto the actual horror boards thing - not all Vecna visions have them.

Fred's visions, Chrissy's clock and bathroom visions, and Max's clock, mom and Billy visions do not have the boards imagery. those are also all the ones which happened outside of or not involving their homes, both in terms of the vision's setting and where the victim physically was while experiencing it.

but the visions set inside of homes got boards [and those are all also the ones experienced while inside of homes irl, though not necessarily those same homes] - the Cunningham house in Chrissy's final vision, the lab in Nancy's (not a house but was technically his home for most of his life, and is referred to as home by Brenner), and ofc Max's in the Creel house.

(honorable mention for Victor's war vision, which wasn't boarded up in the sense of the others, but it was both experienced from and set in a home, and there is some very similar blue-lit-boards imagery in the bombed house. I know there's some question as to who actually did this one but it sorta works)

and when we get to the actual Creel house, whoooboy do we go hard on the boards thing. both in the sense of the IRL house being all boarded up so that the kids have to pry plywood off that door to get in, and of the actual horror boards vision being so much more extensive than Chrissy's or Nancy's.

btw guess how many different boarded up exits Max encounters in her vision? 4. teehee get it

ok, any more homes/boards stuff outside of the st4 visions?

this is kinda Will trying to escape his house, the UD of it anyway. and depending in what way Will's UD experience was affected by what went on in the RU, consider the impys of Lonnie "repairing" that hole, from Will's pov. even if Will didn't literally get the horror boards treatment in there, as a result of this, still. Themes TM

and then much later we have Jon and Nancy boarding up the broken cabin window. yeah I know this is to stop bad guys getting in, not good guys getting out. but is it giving "horror boards but from the wrong pov" again? is this any support for the idea of the final scene being Will's Vecna vision?

and then of course there's the way that that cabin was El's former home, yet also very much a place she wanted to escape from - as was every other place El has ever called home, however briefly. in most cases the word "prison" actually does pop up eventually:

and then there's the mind lair being the fubar Creel house, and the fact that in no mind lair scenes do we ever see Vecna set foot outside of the bounds of the house, right?

in the Dear Billy vision, when it was Vecna in Max's head, he was able to chase her all around the graveyard when she ran. but when Max somehow got into his head, and then Kate Bushed it outta there, he just stood there looking grumpy and tried to stop her by making house parts fall on her, like he couldn't follow her.

[side note: if he HAD scored a direct hit, what then? send a vine out to drag her back? he stopped her that way before, why didn't he just do that again? can his vines not reach beyond the bounds of the mindscape house either?]

even the Piggyback moment where El comes-to and sees him carrying Max in (which. WHY?) he's already well within the house area.

thematically it makes sense that he would be trapped in his own mindscape. psychologically stuck in his trauma... prison of his own making type of thing.. etc etc

image limit. go on without me:

"they're still with me (taps head) in here"

Vecna getting trapped against one of those pillars in his own mindscape by El

boarded up doors imagery vs Flayed Billy and VecnaChrissysmom "open the goddamn door" (not to mention a trillion other instances of "open the door" and door imagery)

Victor telling the story of their home and his trauma from in an actual prison cell (nvm the whole Hopper prison plot)

Kali / Brenner / festering

Pennhurst "can't they just escape?" "they could, but the vast majority choose to be here"

leave your train station

and the only time I can think of that we see Vecna physically outside his house in the UD is when Nancy shoots him though the (boarded up) attic window, after which he disappears somehow. was whatever happened there (at least in part) a consequence of having gone out-of-bounds?

lab duels / if you leave your circle, you lose

Terry stuck reliving her trauma in her dream circle

you have already lost / no you have... etc etc

on first watch I figured he could do whatever and go wherever he wanted but chose to stay at home (like how Will hid at home in the UD)(actually ig I'm basing that on a lot of assumptions) but actually I don't see support for that unless I'm missing something huge.

anyway. just me rolling in the themes like a dog in poop 👍

[sea-lanterns]

RIDE ME!

synopsis: (cowgirl! au) what's better than riding a horse? a cowgirl.

featuring: navia, dehya, shinobu, clorinde, beidou, arlecchino

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, strap ons, riding, reader on top for the most part, teasing, strap ons refered to as c.o.ck and other synonyms, pet names, possessiveness, jealousy, potential poor translation of french from google translate (navia), slight cunnilingus (shinobu), size kink (beidou), handcuffs (clorinde), degradation (clorinde, arlecchino), usage of whore/slut (clorinde, arlecchino), captor x prisoner dynamic (arlecchino), belly bulge (beidou), may be ooc.

art credits: black lagoon

NAVIA

“Oh my, your cute little legs are shaking so much, ma cherie!*”

Navia giggles to herself when you find yourself panting and struggling to take all of Navia’s length inside of you. The thick toy causing your throat to tighten and whine, because Navia just had to pick something so damn big and long to shove up your pussy.

“N-Navia…” you grit through your teeth, some of the air knocking out of your lungs when the woman suddenly bucked her hips forward. “Yessss?” She replies nonchalantly, a smug look on her face when she sees the way you were struggling to properly ride her. “Did’ya…have to choose the biggest toy you could find?” You groan while glaring down at her sarcastically. 

“Oh honey, stop complaining…” Navia giggles, grabbing your hips and ripping a moan out of you when she begins bouncing you on her own. “You’re a big girl, so you can take a big dick on your own, hm?” 

With each riveting thrust, Navia had you bouncing on her hips like you were some excited little bunny, a look of pure satisfaction on the cowgirl’s face when she got an up close view of your pussy swallowing her cock each time you moved up and down. The sight was utterly breathtaking for the legendary cowgirl of your town, and you saw that she was in fact drooling a little bit from the way your cum was dripping down her shaft. 

“Oh, baise-moi, tu es si belle*.” Navia mumbled under her breath, eyes glazing over in a mesmerized way. “I can’t believe you’re mine…”

She chuckles at the way your body twitches from the constant hammering of her hips, so she decides to cut the tension a bit by grabbing her cowgirl hat lying on top of the night stand and placing it over your eyes. 

“There, now you look like a proper cowgirl.” Navia giggles, clutching your hips and smiling at the way her oversized hat tilts forward to cover your eyes. “Now ride me properly, you silly cowgirl. No horse is too big for you to tame…”

She lets out another cheery smile and continues to brutally thrust her hips at that. 

English translations taken from Google Translate: *my love, *fuck me, you’re so beautiful

DEHYA

“(Chuckle), is the princess unable to tame this bull on her own?” 

Dehya smirks cockily at the way you trembled like a leaf on top of her, the look of pure determination on your face as you attempted to get all seven inches of her strap deep inside you. You would’ve gotten all of it fitting snugly by now, but Dehya had been teasing you for the entirety of your session, smirking and gently patting your hips in a condescending manner, that really had you distracted to the point you struggled greatly with even fitting the first few inches.

“Oh, princess…” Dehya chuckles, eying the way your pussy was just drooling over her shaft like it was trying to lube itself as much as it could. Probably because it needed that much lube in the first place, and the sheer amount of precum you were excreting was enough to make your ears go hot in shame. “I’ve never seen you produce so much slick without orgasming, darlin’”

“Shut up…!” you whimpered, giving Dehya a snarky glare. “I’m not used to riding you on top!”

“It’s really not that hard, babe,” Dehya sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. “Trust me, riding a woman is a lot easier than riding a bull, and I know from both experiences.” She clicks her tongue and winks at you. “So why don’t you give it another shot, come on, I know you can do it.”

She gives you an encouraging pat on the ass and leans back, making sure to stretch her stomach a little bit so her abs could shine under the sunset’s rays. The sight of Dehya looking so relaxed and confident in you gave you the little boost you needed to ease up and slowly slide down to the hilt. 

With a strangled gasp, you let out a pretty little whine that made Dehya practically groan with pleasure. “Such a pretty noise you made there, princess,” Dehya husks, trailing one of her thumbs to push at your clit. “Can you make more? You’re usually singing like a canary by now…”

She chuckles and helps you ease down the rest of her cock, noting the tiny twitch in your legs as you struggle to ground yourself to reality. “Ah, poor thing’s all tuckered out just from sitting down,” Dehya grins, sitting up slightly to whisper in your ear. “Would you like this bull to help ride for you?”

When you were unable to respond, feeling too unbearably full from her cock, Dehya smirks and shifts her hands to rest on your hips. “I guess that’s a yes from the pretty little lady.”

Holding you close to her muscled body, she begins to thrust upwards at a brutal place, tip hitting so deep inside you it had you bouncing till you weren’t even moving on your own…

SHINOBU

“Having difficulty, sweet thing?” Shinobu whispers in that raspy voice of hers, eyes glinting forwards at you like a cat, as she watches the way you involuntarily jerked at her thrusts from her strap on pounding inside you. Shinobu was by no means a gentle woman of any kind, yet when it came to you, the sweet darling bachlorette of small town Inazuma, the outlaw was considerably generous to you, given by the fact that she could wreck your delicate pussy at any time she wanted. 

With that in mind however, Shinobu was being awfully patient with how long it took for you to adjust to her strap. The toy was not even breaking five inches, yet when you tried to stuff it inside you from the top —eager to ride Shinobu like a first time rodeo gal— you almost cried from the sheer stretch you felt of her shaft spearing you open. 

“Oh, baby…” Shinobu hummed to herself out of pity, reaching a hand forward to ease your walls a little more by playing with your clit. “You gotta loosen up, babe. I’m about to slip right out again if you’re this tight right now…”

“S-Sorry…” you grimaced, trying desperately to get your body to relax. “I don’t know why it won’t go in…”

“You’re too tense, babe.” Shinobu chuckles, pulling her bandanna down to slip her long tongue out to lick at her teeth. “Do you want me to help you? I certainly can, all you need to do is ask…”

With the way she was licking her teeth seductively and showing off her impressively long tongue, you felt your cunt drip a bit more as just the sight of it had you drooling out of arousal. “Yes please,” you mumble softly, letting Shinobu lift you off her cock and place you back down on the bed. She eased herself lower so that she was now eye level with your cunt, and began licking slow, languid strokes with her tongue until she was able to see your folds loosen up a bit.

“Atta girl…” Shinobu mumbles breathlessly, gripping your thighs to keep you from squirming and pressing deep nail indents into your skin. “Tastier than any ambrosia they serve at that damned bar…”

She groans and pulls you down to kiss at your stomach, playfully nipping the skin right above your belly button before staring up at you hungrily. 

“Do you still wanna ride me, doll?” She asks in a husky tone. 

You shake your head no. 

“Tch, spoiled girl…” she grins and raises your legs up on her shoulders so that she can angle her strap to fuck you. “You should be grateful I’m so lenient on a sweet thing like you…”

And with that, she has you clawing at the sheets as the outlaw prods her tip through your folds…

CLORINDE

“What a naughty girl, unable to keep your hands to yourself…” 

Sheriff Clorinde smirks to herself as the jingle of your handcuffs move with every bounce you take on Clorinde’s strap. The sheriff having chosen a curved, purple dildo as a strap for you to ride on, as this was your punishment for provoking the sheriff while on duty for patrol.

How did you provoke her you may ask? Well, let’s just say parading around in a short skirt, casting flirtatious winks at the gunslinger and whispering how much you wanted her to destroy you was a one way ticket to pound town with Clorinde and your hands bound together with metal cuffs. 

“But Sheriff, I was only vying for your attention…” you pouted, whining when you felt her hands grip your ass and keep you seated downward on the smooth, warm, toy. 

“Vying for my attention, you say?” Clorinde raises a brow, tugging on the chain between your cuffs so that you’d suddenly lurch backwards with a yelp. “Nearly the entire town saw the way you were crooning for me. Don’t you have any shame?” 

She gave a particularly hard thrust at the word shame, grinning to herself when she saw the way you began leaking all over the toy and crying. “What’s wrong you needy girl, have you sprung a leak?” She teases, trailing a finger down to scoop up some of your essence. “Weren’t you whining for my attention earlier? Come on, where’s that excited spark I saw earlier…”

She continues to roll her hips —albeit at a slower pace— before tilting her head up at you and sighing. “You know better than to make me jealous, sweet thing.” She sits up to whisper in your ear and holds your waist a little tighter. “Navia, Furina, and practically all the cowgirls in town had seen you parading yourself in such ludicrous ways. Only I have the pleasure of seeing you, alright?” 

She grunts and begins to roll her hips a bit faster, practically grinding into you to the point all you could feel down there was Clorinde’s strap rearranging your insides. 

“Clorinde…” you gasped when she suddenly pulled you forward to place a delicate little kiss on your mouth, completely contrasting the way she was currently pummeling you with her cock till all you could see were stars.

“That’s sheriff to you, slut.”

BEIDOU

“Well damn, I didn’t know a gal as sweet as you could take a cock this well…”

Beidou laughed as she rested back on the bed frame and placed her arms behind her head. She looked as relaxed as can be while she watched the prettiest girl in town —that’d be you— lazily bounce on her strap with determination. Usually the rugged cowgirl would be on top of you, molding your body to fit hers as she pounded her cock to the oblivion, but this time you wanted to try something different. Something you always wanted to do ever since watching Beidou wrangle some of those wild horses.

“I admit, when you first asked to ride me, I didn’t think you were serious,” Beidou sneers, “But after seeing how determined you are, it seems like you’d make quite the good cowgirl if you keep this up.”

She smiles and tilts your chin up to look at her, an endearing grin on the cowgirl’s face as she continues letting you “take the reins” so to speak. 

“Like I’d ever want to ride a horse though,” you chuckle jokingly, barely hiding a moan as it slips past your lips. “I’d rather just tame a woman…”

“You already did, darlin’” Beidou smirks, pushing you down a little further till there was a slight bulge in your stomach from her cock. “You could tame any woman out here if you could, ya little rascal…”

Your body involuntarily shuddered when you felt her tip push so deep inside you, the ridged edges of her strap feeling so good against your walls, as they milked her for everything that she was worth. “Gentle now…” you groaned, feeling stuffed to the brim from the way she was handling you. “Is this how you treat all the ladies you bed with?”

“No, just this lady.” Beidou chuckles. “Am I too rough?” 

“Not…exactly.” You whimpered, steadying yourself as Beidou bucks her hips a bit harder. “I just need to get used to it, that’s all…”

Beidou smiled softly at this, before murmuring a curse under her breath and pushing her bangs back in amusement. “Oh fuck me little lady…you’re absolutely precious…”

She can’t stop herself from grinning before grabbing your hips and helping you bounce up and down her shaft. At the extra pressure and boost in speed, you nearly creamed yourself and cried while Beidou kept you upright in her arms. 

“Well if you’re so lenient on me being a bit rougher, then perhaps I shouldn’t be so gentle on you anymore, little lady…”

And she kept her word, having you eyes roll back in bliss as she leans forward to suck a nipple into her mouth.

ARLECCHINO

“Tch…I see why that small town of yours was so angry at me for taking you…” Arlecchino husks, the smoke from her cigar fogging up your senses while you sit upright on her lap with her cock buried inside you. “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes, aren’t you?”

She slips the cigar out of her mouth and puts it out on the ashtray beside her, blowing some smoke into your face and watching as you grimace and cough with a frown. “Sensitive too,” she remarks, smirking and caressing your face with the sharp nails you were oh so terrified of. 

“A-Anyone would grimace if they had smoke blow back in their face…” you grunt, glaring down at your captor while you rode her strap with need. “It’s rude to do that anyhow, y’know.”

“I think you’re forgetting I’ve done much ruder things,” the bandit leader chuckles with amusement. “For example, kidnapped you and kept you for ransom. Isn’t that much worse than blowing smoke in your face, doll?” 

Your face scowled down at her and she only grinned at the way you were pouting. “Oh, don’t make that face sweet thing. It’s not like I have you tied up and chained to a post in the desert. You willingly came in here to fuck me, so don’t act so innocent now…”

She flashes you a sneering look before moving her hips a bit rougher so that you could really feel how hard and perfect her cock felt inside you. The way your lips part and glisten with barely contained drool had Arlecchino stroking her ego faster than you could come undone. The sight of your town’s prized jewel now drooling and riding her cock with pathetic need was sending the bandit leader into another state of superiority.

“Oh how I wish that sheriff of yours could see you now,” Arlecchino chuckles, “Clorinde was it? My, she was seething at the way I had you gripped in my arms. She looked like she would shoot me dead right on the spot if I hadn’t been carrying you.”

She was on a power trip, a glistening of madness in those red, X-shaped pupils of hers, as she began bouncing you harder against her strap. 

“You like that though, I know. A whore like you just loves being the center of attention amongst all those rugged cowgirls…”

She scoffs and sits up to bite a hickey onto your neck, enjoying the way you squirmed and clung onto her shoulders immediately once you felt her teeth on your skin. 

“Tell you what, once that sheriff of yours comes up with the sum of money I want, you send her back a little message for me, m’kay?” She growls and practically grips your ass into her clawed hands. “I want you to show her every little bite, hickey, and scratch I leave on your body, so she knows you had fun with me in my tent. Got it?”

You nodded enthusiastically before whining at the way she was now speeding her thrusts. 

“Good whore.”

[mychapel-004]

FNAF SPOILERS! SCROLL! TALKING ABOUT THE SPRINGLOCK SCENE!

i’ve seen so many people discussing the springlock scene in both negative and positive ways and i think it brings up really cool points about how matthew played that scene and balanced fan expectations with his own characterisation.

i think the discussions around this movie have rlly exposed the disconnect between fanon and canon in fnaf, especially talking abt the core games in isolation, bc frankly in the game universe (ignoring the books) we get Very Little characterisation for William other than the obvious, but Matthew managed to add so much in the way he talks and his body language.

in the reveal scene, we see afton at arguably his peak. in his first scene, he comes off as somewhat demeaning and judgemental until he recognises mike’s name, at which point he seems to have this nervous energy, rushing to cover it up but stumbling slightly, his reaction to the tables being turned even slightly is massive.

this is a man who committed multiple mrdrs in essentially broad daylight, hid the bodies in the most obvious place, and still got away with it, and then kept the crime scene as a trophy of his actions, and an ongoing prison sentence for his victims. he has been in complete control for decades, and is confident that he can deal with any kind of threat quickly. his confidence in his reveal is palpable

it changes when vanessa shoots him. the whole parallel with vanessa and the animatronics is hugely interesting too- how william refers to the animatronics almost endearingly as “kids” when he wants them to obey, how both vanny and the animatronics have an unearned loyalty to him, almost a pseudo-adoption through what he did to them, taking them from their parents and keeping them under his thumb, forever stuck as naive, forgiving, obedient children. vanessa breaking from that control shakes him, but the mask slips back into place almost immediately.

then, he’s outsmarted by the brother of one of his victims, and the child he planned to end next. his pseudo-children turn on him and he can no longer manipulate his appearance or shed his skin to escape. he explodes on them, and his language is incredibly telling that he is being dishonest.

he calls them small, trying to belittle them into submission, even though they are ten feet tall metal animatronics powered by rage. he is grasping at straws to regain control, and failing miserably.

finally, the springlocks go off. the locks in the movie look more like a ribcage, so the first two likely puncture his lungs. they’re slow, and painful, but he doesn’t scream or beg or sob. he grunts and groans, gritting his teeth and only letting out sounds of pain that sound almost involuntary. there is no way in hell he would visibly let himself show weakness or pain in front of these creatures that he believes he has control over. he isn’t brought to his knees until there are eight metal spikes embedded in his abdomen. he doesn’t let the mask fall for even a second, until he literally PUTS THE ACTUAL MASK ON and finally collapses. even then, he’s fighting for consciousness, twitching and writhing with no control over his body. william afton thrives on control, and his soul will not rest until he gets it back.

it’s why he keeps the pizzeria- he always comes back. he can’t help but return to the scene of the crime, putting on his old costume, continuing his killings. he revels in being a constant threat on the horizon. and now, he knows he is going to die, and he knows the suit will bring him back, and noone will be able to get rid of him then. so he puts the mask back on, and waits.

in terms of the sfx- they’re pretty accurate. with stab wounds, you need to leave the knife in the wound as long as possible for best chance of survival, as it stops the blood from escaping. in terms of the springlocks, there wouldn’t be copious amounts of blood as the locks are keeping the wounds filled- which is good because it means a slower, more painful death.

[pretzel-box]

if you are still taking requests could you do the opposite spin off where we the experiment like Sebastian of having a shop as for Sebastian being a prisoner who enters the reader shop?

Payment recieved

Words: 1k

Tags: Reversed roles, inhuman reader, human!sebastian, slight fluff, sebastian is still grumpy

authors note: Wrote it on my phone! This was actually requested by two people so I finished it now.

"How much?" Sebastian glanced up at you, his face a mix of exhaustion and relief. Your eyes followed his gaze, realizing he was referring to the jacket you were wearing. It was a brown leather jacket lined with cozy alpaca fur, keeping you warm ever since your body had stopped producing its own heat. The jacket wasn’t particularly important, but you enjoyed the comfort it provided.

You had known Sebastian for a while; he always wore a grumpy expression and often greeted you with sarcasm when he entered your shop. "How much?" he repeated, this time with a hint of impatience.

You blinked, scratching behind your ear fins with a free hand, and smirked. "600 and a smile."

Sebastian hesitated, his brows furrowing as he processed your words. He was used to bartering, haggling, and the occasional hostile negotiation with you, but this was different. A smile? That was new.

“600 and a smile?” he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. His usual grumpy demeanor was momentarily replaced by confusion, as if trying to gauge whether you were joking or just odd. He looked at you closely, taking in your strange, inhuman features—the ear fins, the scaled texture of your skin, and the way your eyes seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the shop. Despite your otherworldly appearance, there was something oddly comforting about you, something that made him relax just a little in your presence.

You nodded, your smile widening just a bit. “That’s right. A fair trade, don’t you think?” Your voice was light, almost playful, as if challenging him to go along with your terms. You tilted your head, the movement causing the fins on the sides of your head to twitch slightly.

Sebastian frowned, glancing down at the jacket again. It wasn’t just that he needed it—the halls of this facility were unforgiving, and his own clothes were worn thin from constant wear. It was more than that, though. This jacket seemed different, not just because of its quality, but because it was yours. He knew you valued it, even if you pretended otherwise.

But a smile? It was a strange request, one that felt more personal than the usual business interactions he was accustomed to. Sebastian wasn’t exactly known for his cheerful disposition, and smiling wasn’t something that came naturally to him. He was a man of few words and fewer expressions, and the idea of smiling just to get a jacket felt… uncomfortable.

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” His tone was less accusatory and more resigned, as if he knew he was about to lose a game he never intended to play.

You simply shrugged, leaning casually against the counter, your eyes never leaving his. “Completely serious. You want the jacket, right? Well, I want to see that grumpy face of yours break into a smile. It’s not every day I get to see something so rare.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, but there was no real malice in his gaze. It was a challenge, one that poked at the walls he’d built around himself. He could just walk away, keep his pride intact, and find another way to stay warm. But something in your relaxed, confident demeanor made him hesitate.

Finally, he let out a low grunt, something halfway between annoyance and reluctant acceptance. “Fine. If it means getting this jacket, then fine.” He looked down, taking a deep breath as if preparing himself for an ordeal.

Then,slowly and awkwardly, he tried to smile, hoping it was enough.

It wasn’t much—more of a twitch at the corners of his mouth than an actual smile, and his eyes remained as stoic as ever. But there was an effort, a hint of something softer beneath the layers of his usual gruffness. It was brief, almost too brief to notice, but it was there.

You watched him with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, your own smile widening in response. You would never say it but his smile made your heart skip a beat. “Not bad, Sebastian. Not bad at all.”

Sebastian’s face quickly returned to its usual neutral expression, though a faint flush colored his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. Just give me the jacket.” He stretched out his hand, wanting you to hurry up already.

You chuckled softly, unzipping the jacket and sliding it off your shoulders. The cold immediately hit your skin, but you barely noticed, more focused on the small victory you’d just won. You handed the jacket to him, your hand brushing against his as he took it.

“Take care of it,” you said lightly, but there was a sincerity in your tone that made Sebastian pause. “It’s seen a lot, that jacket. It deserves someone who’ll appreciate it.” It was one of your last personal items you owned.

Sebastian nodded, slipping the jacket on. It fit him well, and the warmth was immediate, enveloping him in a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. He looked at you, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t used to kindness, especially not in a place like this, and the way you treated him—like an old friend rather than just another customer—left him feeling off balance.

“Thanks,” he muttered, pulling the collar up to shield his neck from the chill.

“Anytime,” you replied, your smile still lingering as you watched him turn to leave. “And don’t be a stranger, Sebastian. My shop’s always open.”

As he walked out into the dimly lit corridor, the warmth of the jacket spreading through his body, Sebastian found himself thinking about that brief, awkward smile. In the end it was more than worth it because he was warm and he knew basked in the slight confort that it gave him. The smell of your scent going up his nose, making him feel grateful for your presence. With that, he crawled through the vent with your image in his mind.

“YOU FORGOT THE KEYCARD, SUNSHINE!”

[readychilledwine]

Housewife

✨️Kink education with Elizabeth✨

The Housewife kink, also known as the 1950s Household, is a power play exchange dynamic that typically involves a dom and service sub. It is characterized by one partner being seen as a homemaker and one as the breadwinner. During the 1950s, the homemaker’s “job” was to take care of the household chores, dinner, children (if they had any), and following norms, their husband's needs all while being the picture perfect example of soft femininity and breedability.

Subs partaking in this form of play tend to wear dresses, heels, aprons, ect, while maintaining a clean home and cooking. Many people enjoy this dynamic due to its ability to come into real-life play instead of just hiding in the bedroom.

It is one form kink play that does not necessarily have to be sexual, but that's not why we're all here 👀

NSFW BELOW CUT

💕Peep Valentines Day Bingo Here 💕

Azriel x Reader

Summary - After a long day of interrogations, Azriel is more than pleased to come home to dinner made, a clean home, and a pretty wife.

Warnings - sub and dom dynamics, references to completely power exchange play, oral (mreceiving), slightly demeaning behavior towards females

A/N - I apologize for the delay. My little is going through a growth spurt and a little fussy today. Plus, it took FOREVER to find the perfect gif.

Azriel opened the door to his cabin. His shoulders were slumped forward, wings hanging slightly lower than normal.

It had been a rough day. He had been torturing the same prisoner for 3 days now. They refused to yield, they refused to break, and they refused to bend and give the shadowsinger what he wanted.

He knew that all would change the second he saw you, though. You were currently setting dinner on the table. Your hair was softly curled and pinned back, a soft touch of makeup graced your face highlighting his favorite features of yours.

You were wearing a blue sundress the flowed out at the bottom with heels and a blue bow in your hair.

“How's my wife today?” He took pleasure in knowing you would not address him until he addressed you. He took pleasure in knowing that within seconds of hearing his voice, you were trained to get him a glass of whiskey and greet him with a kiss.

“Azriel, you're home early,” you immediately went to the liquor counter, dress swaying as you did. You poured him a finger of whiskey, moving to add ice before walking to him and kissing his cheek. “How was your day?”

Azriel drank as you began removing his outer heavy layer for him, watching like a hawk as you hung his coat and placed his already kicked off boats into the precise place he had told you they go.

“Same prisoner as yesterday,” he watched you blink in confusion. “The bastard will not break and submit. Did you make dinner?”

You nodded enthusiastically, walking him to the table and getting him a plate. “I made your favorite.”

Azriel settled into the couch after dinner, watching you as you cleaned dishes. Every soft movement of your dress had his eyes locked on the hem. Each time you'd reach forward slightly, he was rewarded with a glimpse at the garter belt straps that connected to the satin tops of your thigh highs. It was a constant reminder to him that you were his present, waiting to be unwrapped so delicately as a reward for your continued obedient behavior.

“Angel,” he spoke softly. “Are all your chores done after this?”

It should have bothered you as a wingless Illyrian female to hand over submission so willingly out of hope you'd be rewarded with your mate's cock pounding into you over and over, but instead knowing you were about to be rewarded, that he was about to use you like a pretty cock sleeve, that had your thighs pressing together. “They are. Unless you wanted me to do something else.” A cool shadow began swirling your leg. Its touch was like soft kisses and left shivers in its wake.

Azriel leaned back, watching his shadow go on its mission, watching as you took a gasp, spine going straight before moaning his name. “Let me know when you finish.” He placed an arm on the back of the couch, scenting your arousal filling the air as you whimpered and went back to the last few dishes.

It wasn't fair. Trying to focus on scrubbing and rinsing as a shadow sat vibrating against your lace covered clit was nearly impossible. 5 dishes, you reminded yourself. He lets you leave them overnight to dry. Just 5 more. You focused on the dishes, doing the best you could to ignore the growing wetness between your thighs.

You almost jumped as rough hands ran up your arms. “My pretty little wife. My mate,” one of his hands wrapped and held your throat. His other hand ran down your chest, through the valley of your breasts, before settling on your hip. He started placing soft kisses along your neck, your ear. “How lucky am I to have such an obedient wife taking care of my home?” He squeezed your throat softly before his other hand began lifting Your dress. The hand on your throat moved to join the other one as he moved you away From the sink and to a different section of countertop, bending you over it and place one hand at the back of your neck to hold you Down. He groaned as his shadows held up that pretty dress, exposing those sapphire lace panties

"The dishes," you panted.

"Can wait. I can't. I've been hard since I walked in to you setting the table wearing my color, wearing a little bow tying your hair back like some innocent little thing." Your panties were moved to the side. Two fingers began to run the length of your core as Azriel groaned behind you. "So fucking wet I've hardly done anything."

You heard a muffled moan and could only assume he had put his fingers into his mouth. "So sweet, baby." You could hear him undoing his pants, feel as the head of his cock ran your folds. You could feel down the bond that it would be a long night.

You gasped loudly, gripping the counter with a mix between a moan and scream as he pushed into the hilt. Azriel wasted no time, threading one hand into your hair and pulling while the other held your hip. Azriel growled as you wiggled slightly, causing you to still. "Such a good little wife."

He wasted no time, setting a pace that had your toes curling in those heels that made your ass look phenomenal. Shadows quickly moved to hold the dress up, allowing the hand on your hip to move to your still covered clit.

There was something freeing about being below him, serving him, being used by him. It was enough for that coil to tighten faster as your mind went blank, focusing on nothing but the feeling of his heavy hard cock hitting every nerve inside of you, angling until he found the spot that had you scream his name.

Despite the roughness he fucked you with, the power you were freely handing to him, Azriel still sent wave after wave of his love, his admiration, and his pride down the bond. With each wave, that coil got tighter and tighter, your moans louder and more desperate as your body felt like it was on fire. "Be a good wife and cum for me," his fingers pressed down on that bundle of nerves, hips pistoning into you even faster as you screamed his name, walls milking his cock.

Azriel pulled out instead of following you over the ledge, ripping that dress off of you and leaving you in the lingerie and heels. He lifted you into his arms while you still came down from the high, your vision almost blurred.

You felt the soft bed under you, smelling the fresh sheets you had just changed hours ago. Azriel smelled them too as he positioned you with your head hanging off the bed. "You spoil me," his hands ran to your breasts, squeezing and tweaking your nipples.

His cock sat heavy and leaking near your face, soaked in your release, "Open." You smiled, opening your mouth wide, allowing him to push in just as two fingers slid into your heat.

He was gentle this time, for now at least, fucking your throat. You ran your tongue along his length, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him. You were at his mercy, wiggling and moaning around him as the wet noises of his cock in your mouth and his fingers thrusting in and out of you echoed with his moans and occasional whimper.

His pace picked up as his fingers did, making him chuckle in satisfaction as you gagged around him. "You deserve a reward for how hard you worked today, don't you, y/n?" He groaned as you moaned around him, vibrating his cock as he held it deep in your throat. "Not a single thing out of place, every chore finished, and I came home to you looking like a delicious treat? What a good little wife." You felt your vision getting slightly blurry until he pulled out again, your pleasure almost maddening as he avoided the spongy spot inside of you and brushed your swollen clit with ghost like touches. "That's what you are isn't it? No thoughts in that pretty mind of yours but pleasing me and taking my cock like an obedient whore?"

You would have nodded, begging him to give you what you needed as you agreed to every word, but his cock was still occupying and twitching in your mouth. You knew from the way his fingers had become messier in their rhythm, from the way his words were getting breathy, from how each moment of your throat burning as he held himself deep inside grew longer and longer that he was close.

You had been dreaming of his all day. Dreaming for your reward for dusting, for cooking, for cleaning. The reward you'd get when he came home to a spotless house, to his laundry done, to you wearing your pretty outfit for him.

His fingers curled into the spot you needed, pressing and tapping there as shadows curled and flicked your nipples and his thumb ran gentle circles on your clit. You finished within seconds with no warning, crying around his cock, hands fisting the sheets.

Azriel fell over the edge soon after, spilling with his cock shoved all the way into your mouth forcing you to swallow what you could, head thrown back as his wings flared and he moaned your name without shame.

He pulled out, fisting the exposed length and allowing the last of his cum to land on your face, admiring the mess of drool, makeup, and his seed you had become. His fingers left your cunt, going to his own mouth as he licked them clean with a smile. He watched as your hand waved and the bathtub began to fill.

"I'm not done with you yet," he panted, hands trailing your body.

You smiled, your own hands running up and down his thighs. "I counted in that, but let me take care of your other needs first."

Azriel looked up, a wide smile on his face as he sent a silent prayer to whoever blessed you with acts of service as your love language. "I would really like that."

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish

@novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer

As always- please let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist 💜

[missshirophantom]

I love your yandere Sebastian Solace so much <3 could you make a request on him having female reader in his shop after kidnapped the reader from her journey on getting the crystal to escape the place where she is forced to stayed in his shop- Where nothing but some noisy other prisoners/people could disturb his time with being with only your presence. When one of prisoners flashed him of the flashlight she took the opportunity to escape the shop without alerting Sebastian of her leaving due not wanting to risk getting caught (sorry if this doesn't make sense)

From the author : hello! I'm glad of that. It took a while, but it's done. I apologize if there is something wrong in the written request or if I misunderstood something. I hope you don't mind that I came up with the name of this one... Stories, yes. And I hope you don't mind the slight rigidity typical of yandex. content. I apologize also if this is short or a little concise, I was in a hurry when I wrote this, plus I was busy writing one story that I finally finished. Have a nice read :D

Warning : female reader, references to bondage (not really), mention of slight isolation, threat of fracture and amputation of a limb, possessive behavior, yandere.

Number of words : 1856

I Warned You

A lot of things have been happening in your life lately. The time before you were put in jail does not matter. Whether you were actually imprisoned for a crime or not. The important thing is that in the end you agreed to the offer of a certain company Urbanshade. All you wanted was to finally get out of this prison, especially when the woman was not living very well there.

However, you never even allowed the thought that this seemingly simple matter would turn out to be so dangerous.

Meetings with these... Creatures that have left you with nightmares. You didn't even think then that it could be worse than just being in jail. At least there was some respite, but here you're just in eternal fear for your life.

You weren't exactly sure what attracted one of these creatures named Sebastian, as he calls himself. Especially when you came to his store several times for, most often, a first-aid kit.

So that didn't explain why he kidnapped you and kept you in his store. It was especially frustrating that you were pretty close to that damn crystal and the long-awaited freedom. Literally a few steps away, and then you lost consciousness before you woke up in a man's store.

You were afraid to do anything. More precisely, you tried, but Sebastian's threats were sufficiently eloquently that you did not think of doing anything to his satisfaction.

Compared to what happened to you in prison before, being here is not a bad thing. If you think about it optimistically.

There was food, albeit mostly raw meat, and canned goods from the warehouses of this base. There was also a soft, very soft, place to sleep. And a little entertainment in the form of reading the documents that Sebastian allowed you to take and talking with him.

What you definitely didn't like, and even scared, was the almost constant attempts of a man to bite you. He also kept you wrapped up with his tail all the time when you were sleeping or "annoyed" him when he was busy. You didn't know what it was about, and even if you did, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

And you also hated when he used handcuffs to keep you in his "lair" while he went to get supplies. Even when you behaved well, he did it anyway, deliberately not believing you and mocking you. Which was true, but your wrists hurt because of the uncomfortable position and even turned a little red where the metal rubbed against your skin.

You reluctantly accepted it.

An attitude, but definitely not a position.

You were afraid of what Sebastian might do to you if you did run away, but damn. You were so eager to get out and finally get freedom, despite the fact that your last attempt was unsuccessful, and the scar on the back of your neck still hurt. A reminder of your "misconduct," as a man hissed in your ear during his bad days. And then there's the daily mockery...

Even his "good" attitude towards you does not cover what is here, especially with him, is unbearable.

But subconscious fear, as well as those memories of your past escape attempts, made you freeze in place when you stood next to the ventilation hole open to customers.

About the customers...

These are the days that allowed you to exhale a little, because it was at such moments that Sebastian's close attention and obsession were less, because he was distracted by the prisoners who bought things from him. And it also lifted your spirits a little, because you could talk a little with those prisoners who did not treat girls disgustingly.

It's good that your abductor did not interfere with this, even if he frowned and became more intrusive after the person left.

You fidgeted a little in your seat while you were sitting on one of the iron boxes, looking bored at the book in your hands, which you reread for the third time. Sebastian brought you this book from one of his outings. The plot was not bad and you even liked it, although after each re-reading, the book turned out to be quite boring. And not only because you already knew the story.

You listened out of the corner of your ear to the mumbling of a visiting prisoner who was fiddling with his research, greedily looking at some of the things being sold in Sebastian's bags.

As far as you remember, this person lacked literally several dozen studies to buy this. It could be seen that they were clearly in distress.

You put the book aside, raising your head.

Sweat broke out on the man's face as they rummaged in all their pockets, desperately looking for more research, but not finding it, began to sweat harder. At the time, Sebastian was looking at them maliciously, folding his two arms over his chest, clearly enjoying the discomfort of the prisoner.

You frowned quite a bit at this. Suddenly, a rather unexpected thought came to your mind: what if?..

It is at this second that the man pulls out a Flash Beacon and pulls the trigger, clearly hoping to steal the right thing in this way.

And at the same moment, when Sebastian's angry and painful scream rang out, you rushed to the vent and crawled through it.

You acted on pure instincts, moving as if your life depended on it. You could hear an even louder, angry scream as you ran out of the hallway, followed by the sound of a gunshot.

You didn't remember how long you ran like that, but you had to run as far as possible, especially when you acted so impulsively and did not report this action to Sebastian in any way... Although, if that had happened, he would have handcuffed you to a pipe or a staircase railing... But you just wanted to feel freedom at least for a short time, even without resuming the path to the crystal.

Your legs barely held you up and hurt a lot from the sudden and prolonged running, which almost made you stumble. You were breathing heavily, almost hoarsely, leaning against the wall. Gradually, as you catch your breath, you begin to fully realize what you have done.

Damn it, what have you done?

What is the chance that in this case Sebastian will not give you a very strong punishment? And then he will move with his magician to another place so that it will be harder for the prisoners to get to him, and also so that you are not familiar with the situation?..

Although it was not this that scared you more, but what kind of punishment a man would apply for your impulsiveness ...

You swallowed nervously, involuntarily looking down at your legs, which were trembling after running... Or maybe from fear of the unknown.

You started when you heard a noise in the next room and ran again, as if your life depended on it. Which was not far from the truth.

You heard a very familiar angry growl behind you, which caused you to accelerate, panicking, looking for a place where you could hide from danger. In the next room, you find a small overturned closet among other furniture scattered throughout the room, and hurry inside. You clamped your hands over your mouth, curled up in a trembling ball in the corner of the furniture.

You held your breath when you heard another crash and thud, but it was all in this room.

— Where are you, little fish? — The voice was full of growls and hisses, quite far from human speech and literally inhuman.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to move a muscle, when you heard the sound of a body sliding on the floor, as well as the way the furniture moved, almost breaking under the force of the hybrid's claws.

— Do you remember I warned you not to run away? Or have you forgotten that?! — there was another sound of furniture moving, but this one, apparently, flew into the wall. Dangerously close to where you were— ah, I knew you were dumb, but to be so lovely?

You tried not to flinch or sob at his tone and noise as he broke furniture next to you, clearly venting his anger.

— Should I break you or amputate your leg so that you stop thinking about escaping, huh?!

You shuddered weakly, shrinking into a ball from his threat, barely breathing through the tears that silently flowed from your eyes. Of course, you guessed that something would be determined, but... No, no, no...

— If you come out now, I won't do anything to you, little fish, — the tone of the voice dropped, and the hissing was not heard so much now.

But for some reason it scared you even more, which is why the instincts in your body made you freeze in place. You've never felt so terrified, even when you almost ran away the last time. You felt like a real prey next to a large predator, ready to attack and eat right like that.

Because of fear, time seemed to freeze for you, as well as all the noise that began to move further and further away from you, indicating that Sebastian was moving away from your hiding place. You were still trembling, barely able to move for the first few seconds, when you realized he was gone.

It took about a few dozen minutes before you could move, when the paralyzing fear began to subside from you. By that time, all the noise had stopped and it was terribly quiet.

It bothered you a lot and you were afraid to open the closet door, but you couldn't sit here for a long time because of a little claustrophobia and fear that the hybrid might come back and find you.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks with a trembling hand, exhaling raggedly and hesitantly and very slowly unlocked the locker door.

At the same moment, your hand was intercepted and you were literally yanked out of hiding with your scream.

You saw your own frightened reflection in Sebastian's inhuman eyes. A sob escaped your lips, breaking the silence, then a terribly quiet voice was heard:

— I. Warned. You.

[avengersbtch]

Missed You- Armando Aretas (ONE SHOT)

Armando Aretas x Reader 

Warnings: Pre-established relationship, does not follow films timeline, And nothing else? Unless you hate fluff with a hint on angst if you look closely. 

A/N: Honestly this fic was meant to go a whole different way but guess this is what I felt like writing lol. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Armando escapes after the crash and finds you at Dorn’s.

The aftermath of Armando’s actions was catastrophic, he was locked up and you were stuck waiting on the other side for him. You warned him his mother’s instructions would come with a price, but he was loyal to a fault especially to his mother. However, no matter what he did and who he trusted, you were always a constant for him, and he loved you more for it. Seeing him in prison had broken your heart more than you could admit, you could see he had accepted his fate with the light in his eyes dull after his mother’s death, the only thing that kept you going and kept you hopeful was Mike doing his best to try and get him out, not that it was helping at moment, he was still behind bars. 

It had been routine for you, you would visit him on a weekly basis, only weekends because you worked full time as a data analyst for the PD. So, your weekends were spent driving down and seeing him and talking to him for an hour a day and doing the same thing the next day. He wouldn’t tell you much about his day or his week really, you assumed to not worry you, not that it helped, you stressed about him constantly and missed him dearly and wished you could at least hug him. He knew you were doing the best you could, and he knew that being with him also caused you more trouble than peace which swelled his heart. Seeing you on the weekends was his only sense of joy that he felt and knowing you were still there for him solidified his true awe in you. He loved hearing about your week, whether it was a friend or work drama that occurred that week or family related stories, he just listened to it all. He knew him being imprisoned wasn’t a good look on you either given you worked for the PD, but you never said anything to him because it was him before everyone else and he knew you flipped off anyone that tried to say a word about him, which of-course he was proud of. 

Today was any other weekend, you picked up a coffee and started driving early in the morning to see him again. You missed him especially with this week being your birthday, it just passed, and it had felt so empty not sharing it with him. You arrived earlier than usual despite the traffic which you chalked it up to luck and were not complaining. Walking into the large prison doors, a couple of officers asked you to sign in and requested the name of the person you were visiting, we’ll to quote in their words ‘inmate’ but there’s was no way you would refer to your Armando as inmate. Absolutely not. They knew who you were coming for, but it was policy for them, so it repeated every week. Following the same routine, you signed in, waited until you were cleared and walked through the X-ray, handing in all your belongings and once you cleared through, you waited until they brought Armando out. You knew he was ready when the officers signalled you in, to which you graciously complied and went it.

There he was behind bars, with his scruffy beard that you loved, and unkept hair sitting with cuffs waiting for you. The moment he noticed you, his smiled lifted, not completely reaching is eyes but a smile was enough for you. 

“Amor, you’re early today, I missed you” Armando greeted you instantly as you sat down. 

“Hi baby” you smiled grabbing his hand and sneaking a quick peck on his fingers through the bars while the officer wasn’t looking. He smiled at the action and held on to your hand with his fingers not wanting your touch to go just yet. “How are you feeling baby?” You asked slightly rubbing his fingers. 

“Me? happy birthday mi amor” He dismissed your question changing the subject back to you. 

“Thanks baby, I missed you I’ll be honest” you admitted ignoring the fact he dismissed the question about himself as per usual, you left it because you would harp on about him ignoring it later. 

“I was thinking about you baby I promise” he sagged while answering “I’m sorry you have to go through this” slipping his hand away noticing the guard nearing. 

“Don’t apologise Armando, it’s not your fault, she lied to you, and it’s been too long to look back now” you consoled “I’m just glad you here and alive and with me baby, I don’t care about anything else” you added, you hated seeing him like this. This wasn’t him; he was cool and calm and level-headed, and you knew he was only this way with you because he trusted you, but it still hurt you to not see him acting like himself. The longer he spent in these walls the worse it got.

“Anywaay, how are you feeling mister I like ignoring my girlfriend’s questions” you dragged putting emphasis that he was not getting away with ignoring your question. He rolled his eyes and beat around the answer again until he got you talking about your week.

You talked for more, told him work stories and what you did for your birthday while he listened with intent. At one point you had your legs crossed in a criss-cross fashion expressing all your concerns, that was until the guard knock on the window beside you yelling “ times up!” Indicating you had to get going. 

You turned your head to the guard and then back to Armando and sighed “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” 

“Ok amor, I love you” he assured seeing your hesitation. 

You smiled and said softly “love you too baby” kissing your fingers and transferring it to the bars in front on him and he returned the same kiss back adding a cheeky wink that invoked a slight blush from your neck up. 

The next day you did the same, the drive was roughly an hour, you didn’t mind it, it was peaceful and enjoyable to have the break driving up. Today you were running later than usual though, it was almost midday and you had woken up late also having a few errands to run before you left because everything closed early Sundays. Nevertheless, you made your way to Armando as you did every weekend. 

Only this Sunday was different because the minute you walked into the Prison, the officers frowned and said without waiting “he’s not taking visitors today” they didn’t even ask you who you were visiting, you frowned in confusion. 

“What do you mean he’s not taking any visitors, did he say that himself?” you accused as you questioned the officers, knowing for a fact Armando did not ask to not see you. 

“He got into an altercation yesterday which has resulted in his visitation rights being revoked” he stated as if he was reading a script. Now you were absolutely confused and even more worried. 

“An altercation, what happened? Is he ok” you frantically asked worried about him. While Armando could hold his own in a fight, he wouldn’t start one for nothing. Something was wrong. 

“We cannot disclose any further information, please reach out to your lawyer for further clarification” he scriptly stated again which infuriated you further. 

“Like hell” you mumbled grabbing your phone and dialling Mike right away while walking out the prison. Did he know about this, if not could he out? The lawyer was who’d you be calling last, please. A million thoughts were going through your mind as the phone rang but the only one you need an answer to right now was if he was safe.

The ring paused, indicating Mike had answered thankfully and before you could greet him, he rushed and said “y/n, I’m dealing with it now. I’m going to try and get him transferred” advising you immediately showing he clearly knew what the fuck was going on. 

“Dealing with it now?! What the fuck is going on why the fuck did I get rejected to see him Mike?” You yelled frustrated this was how you were finding out, trying to walk back to your car. 

“I didn’t know you were going down, I would’ve called” he sighed, also repeating “I’m trying to get him transferred”. 

“You should have called me first! I don’t give a shit if I was going down or not” you spat, throwing all your anger onto  him. “Why are you trying to get him transferred, I need to know what’s happening” you demanded hands waving outside the prison.

He sighed mumbling something along the lines of not wanting to worry you which now worried you more. 

“Mike. What. Happened?” You asked him again with more force. 

“Someone’s trying to hurt him, I wen-“he started informing before you cut of him in panic. 

“What! Hurt him? Mike, who’s trying to hurt him? Why? “You asked frantically pausing in your tracks, your heart beating faster the more you listened. Why the hell would anyone want to hurt Armando. 

“If you didn’t interrupt me, you would have heard me say that I went to see him yesterday” he explained slowly as you allowed him to tell you what was going on. As he went on, you finished walking back to your car and put the phone on speaker. 

“to get information on Captain with him being framed and you know Armando being the one that killed him and all” Mike pointed out while explaining. 

You shook your head in disbelief and huffed “Mike, get on with it, you know it was his mother’s doing, don’t blame him for being loyal” you defended Armando, there was no way you’d let anyone, even Mike say a single bad word about him when he wasn’t present to defend himself, whether it was intentional or not. 

After this, Mike went on explaining everything to you and that he was going down to request his transfer so they could keep Armando safe so he could ID the true suspect behind the framing of Captain Howard. None of this made you feel any better but there was literally nothing you could do but wait for Armando to be transferred, that was what Mike said anyway. So that’s what you did, you went about your day doing errands, cooking, and cleaning and basically anything and everything that would keep you occupied. 

Later that day you got a phone call from Mike stating that the transfer was happening which felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders after hearing those words. You knew the transfer still had to happen for him to be one hundred percent safe so when Mike transferred him was when you’d truly feel at ease. You trusted Mike so waiting for this to go down would be ok, as long as someone was protecting him, not that he couldn’t protect himself but knowing he wasn’t alone made you feel a bit at ease. So then started a new waiting game, tomorrow he would be transferred, that wasn’t that far away you thought. Wrong, you didn’t sleep the whole night stressed that he was alone at that prison and unsafe, with people who wanted him dead, your heart constricted at the thought of him being hurt and feeling so alone.

Day two of waiting was a little easier given you were running on no sleep and had work, so it was difficult to focus on anything except not closing your eyes and although work was slow it offered some sort of a distraction from worrying about Armando. Well, that was until you noticed the news at work. You had been on your computer, and a news feed notification appeared on your screen that read “PRISON TRANSFER PLANE CRASH” this immediately sparked your interest and concern simultaneously. You clicked the notification, reading through was had been reported, time slowed down, everything was moving in slow motion. Not only had you read the words plane crash and Armando’s name in the same sentence, the words fugitive and suspects were raising major red flags as well. So much new information was being thrown at you and you honestly felt like you would faint. You breathed in and out at least 5 times and listed everything that you read. Armando had been in a plane crash; they suspect he survived with Mike and Marcus who were now wanted suspects. The plane crash was not a coincidence, you knew that, and you knew who ever wanted Armando dead was going through lengths to do this. You ignored the stares from you co-workers assuming they’ve seen the same notification and stood up to request to leave work early. 

You ran to your car and sat with your head on your steering wheel for a minute breathing in and out, five minutes passed, and you decided to try and call Mike, obviously with no answer, then called Marcus and the same. You must have sat there for what felt like an hour till you drove home and went on your laptop trying to figure something out, anything really but obviously no luck given this wasn’t your expertise and the only person you knew who may be able to help was Dorn. You contemplated going to Dorn’s place and asking him to help, wondering whether he was already trying to help, you thought about just calling him, but then you would risk your phone being tapped and that was not something you could risk given Armando was out, possibly hurt and maybe even alone however, you doubted that seeing as Mike and Marcus were now suspects to Armando’s escape. Your emotions getting the better of you, you grabbed your keys and decided that you would go to Dorn and ask him for help and at least have him offer you what he knows. Yes, it was almost midnight, but you wouldn’t be able to rest or breathe until you knew Armando was okay and Dorn would have to suffer for that.

Arriving at Dorn’s place, you noticed a light was on which was good and meant that you were not waking him up. You knocked softly, hoping not to annoy him at this hour, to your surprise, he answered immediately with a confused look on his face. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” He asked in concern standing at the door.

“Did you see the news?” You asked back in answer sliding past him inviting yourself in. 

“On Mike and Marcus?” He asked confirming he saw the same thing. “Yeah, I spoke to them just before it crashed, there is shit going down” he answered, telling me absolutely nothing as he closed the door eyes shifting upstairs. 

“And Armando, he’s probably with them” you added, causing him to shift slightly probably because he wasn’t Armando’s biggest fan. “So, you haven’t heard from them since?” You asked watching his eye shift slightly to upstairs again.

You rolled your eyes at him “get over it Dorn, I know you and Kelly are together.” You stated getting bored at his stress, needing his 100 percent focus.

“HOW?” He gasped and that caused you to chuckle, telling him how obvious they were. After that amazing discovery you had sat with Dorn and Kelly while they broke down all the data and information that had come to light before this crash. To be honest, you really didn’t care but if any of this brought you closer to Armando, you would endure it all and more. It had gotten late and Dorn had offered you the spare room to crash, after the day you had and the information overload that just occurred, there wasn’t much more you could do tonight and you felt bad for keeping Kelly and Dorn up till 3, so you agreed and used the spare room until tomorrow and you would go back home and try and figure things out. 

The next morning you had heard noise downstairs, assuming it was Dorn and Kelly you tried to go back to sleep. But it seemed louder than normal and there seemed to be conversation that had you interested. Getting out of bed, in the same clothes you were in from last night, you rubbed your eyes and yawned sliding your feet to the bathroom. You washed your face, fixed your hair, and overall tried to look more presentable given you looked like a troll in the mornings. Shifting your feet down the stairs one by one, the yelling getting louder and as your feet reached the final stair, you gasped and paused at the bottom of the stairs. Armando was standing right there with an unbothered look on his face and Kelly pointing a gun at his face.

“Kelly what the fuck?!” You yelled running to Armando to stand in between him and the gun immediately causing Armando unbothered façade to drop.

“Mi Amor? What are you doing here?” Armando asked calmly while you faced Kelly. He had not expected you to be here, not that he knew where Mike and Marcus were taking him but the last person, he expected to see was you while he was on the run. You slightly touched his arm, keeping distance between him and the woman with the gun. Your touch felt like fire and there was nothing more he wanted but to hug you and kiss you all over. He had been dreaming of it every time you visited him at the prison.

“Y/N I know you love him, but you need to step aside. He can’t be here.” Kelly declared as if that would make you move anymore, throwing her a confused look you stared at Dorn for help.

“Kelly step back, like you said, I love him and he’s Mike’s Son. He’s with them” you announced with no intention of moving out of her way. You wanted nothing more than to acknowledge the man behind you but the fear of seeing that gun pointed at him topped the feeling of missing him and needing him right now. Dorn had stepped in now to cool Kelly off, causing her to lower the gun. You breathed as if you had been holding it in the whole time and your shoulders dropped int relief. You turned slowly, finally being offered the space and time to see him and feel him with him only inches away from you now. You stared at him lovingly, chest rising as you stared at him not uttering a single word. You could see him waiting for you, it was what you both had been waiting for. 

You looked at him, from top to bottom, noting that he looked absolutely battered and whispered in relief “Armando?” 

He took this as you asking for him, which you had been and opened his arms to which you threw yourself at. He held on to you for dear life and you did the same, you hugged him so tight you may have started cutting off his circulation, but he hadn’t contested so you continued. His arms wrapped around your waist and head dipped to reach you with your head resting on his shoulders leaning into his neck and taking in his scent. 

“I missed you so much baby” you mumbled in his neck as he hugged you. Peppering kisses all over his neck while he whispered sweet nothings to you.

“I’ve dreamt of this mi amor, you are so beautiful baby, I love you so much” he whispered near your ear, peppering with almost as many kisses. 

You pulled from him slightly and looked up at him, pulling his face closer to you with both your hands cupping his cheeks. He immediately kissed you taking control with his hands still in your waist pulling you closer to him. He wasted no time at all slipping in his tongue, which you had no issues to at all with and reciprocated almost moaning at the feeling of him, but you held back knowing there may be an audience. You pulled from him, breathing heavily and rested your forehead on his, he lifted one hand to your face and gently caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Why are you here?” He asked again, completely dumbfounded that you were right here and how. 

“Do you want me to go?” You chuckled joking as you moved to hug his side allowing him to wrap one arm around your waist. 

“No never mi amor, you stay right here” he chuckled back pulling you closer to him, which caused you to smile softly nodding as your head rested on his chest.

“I came here to find you” you mumbled in his chest hugging him tighter almost as if he would slip from you. His touch and his warmth already made you feel so comforted and safe and loved, and it only been 5 minutes. Your heart stiffened at thought of losing him again. 

“You found me baby” he confirmed, kissing the top of your head leaving you smiling in his chest. He had definitely gained some muscle while in prison and you weren’t complaining. “Ok you too, we’ve had enough of this reunion, really. I had no idea you’d be here y/n” Marcus interrupted which made you laugh sweetly. Armando, not so much, he just mumbled something about not being funny at Marcus being annoying which you giggled at.

[fdelopera]

Never Again is NOW

This evening marks the beginning of Yom HaShoah. This Jewish holiday and Holocaust Remembrance Day marks the anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

Yom HaShoah is different than International Holocaust Remembrance Day. On International Holocaust Remembrance Day, we mourn the 6 million Jews, as well as the Romani and all the others who were systematically slaughtered by the Nazis during World War II.

Yom HaShoah is the day for Jews mourn our dead and to remember the Jews who heroically fought back against the Nazis in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. We mourn the 6 million Jews who were murdered the LAST time the entire world was infected by the mind-virus of Jew-hate.

In the midst of this current global tidal wave of Jew-hate, we Jews say NEVER AGAIN. Never again is NOW.

And a reminder to non-Jews who might try to steal this phrase:

Never Again is a Jewish phrase. Period. It doesn’t belong to non-Jews.

Never Again refers to the Shoah, and to the THOUSANDS of years of violent Jew-hatred we have endured before then.

Never Again states that we Jews will NEVER AGAIN be slaughtered by the millions.

If you are a goy, and you use this phrase for any other purpose, you are engaging in cultural appropriation.

You are appropriating Jewish trauma and pain that IS NOT YOURS.

Unless you are willing to shoulder the burden of 3500+ years of Jewish history, you do NOT get to use this phrase.

If you steal Never Again for any other context, all you are doing is broadcasting that you are a Jew-hating bigot who engages in Holocaust Inversion.

And you can take your antisemitic bigotry and go fuck off into the sun.

.

Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, borei p’ri hagafen.

Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’ratza vanu, v’shabbat kod’sho b’ahava uv’ratzon hinchilanu, zikaron l’ma’aseh b’reishit. Ki hu yom t’chila l’mikra-ay kodesh, zaycher l’tziat mitzrayim. Ki vanu vacharta v’otanu kidashta mikol ha’amim. V’shabbat kod-shi-cha b’ahava uv’ratzon hinchal tanu. Baruch ata Adonai, mi’kadesh ha Shabbat.

(Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, how has sanctified us with his commandments and favored us, and given us in love and favor his holy Shabbat as an inheritance, as a remembrance of the act of creation. For this day is the beginning of all holy days, a remembrance of the Exodus from Egypt. For you have chosen us and you have blessed us from among all the nations. And you have bequeathed us your holy Shabbat in love and favor. Blessed are you, Lord, who sanctifies Shabbat.)

.

Feel this, to all those races, colors, and creeds, every man bleeds

For the countless victims and all the families of the murdered, tortured, enslaved

Raped, robbed and persecuted — Never Again

To the men, women, and children who died in their struggle to live

Never to be forgotten, Reuven Ben Menachem, yo…

.

My own blood dragged through the mud

Perished in my heart, still cherished and loved

Stripped of our pride, everything we lived for

Families cried, there's nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide

Tossed to the side, access denied

6 million died, for what?

.

Yo, a man shot dead in his back

Helpless women and children under constant attack

For no reason 'til the next season and we still bleeding

Yo it's freezing and men burn in Hell, some for squeezing

No hope for a remedy, nothing to believe

Moving targets who walk with the star on their sleeve

Forever marked with a number tattooed to your body

Late night, eyes closed, clutched to my shotty

Having visions, flashes of death camps and prisons

No provisions, deceived by the Devil's decisions

Forced into a slave, death before dishonor

For those men who were brave, shot and sent to their grave

Can't awaken, it's too late, everything's been taken

I'm shaken, family, history in the making

.

Never again shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again shall we sit and take orders

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d then burned of our bones

Never again, never again, shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again leave our sons and daughters

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

(Never again) Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d and everything we own (Never again)

.

Some fled through the rumors of wars

But most left for dead, few escaped to the shores

With just one loaf of bread, banished

Called in for questioning and vanished, never to be seen again

I can't express the pain, that was felt in the train

To Auschwitz, tears poured down like rain

Naked, face to face with the master race

Hatred, blood, and David, my heart belongs to God and stays sacred

Rabbis and priests, disabled individuals

The poor, the scholars — all labeled common criminals

Mass extermination, total annihilation

Shipped into the ghetto and prepared for liquidation

Tortured and starved, innocent experiments

Stripped down and carved up or gassed to death

The last hour, I smelled the flowers

Flashbacks of family then sent to the showers

Powerless, undressed, women with babies clumped tight to their chest — crying

Who would've guessed — dying

Another life lost, count the cost

Another body gas-burned and tossed in the Holocaust

.

Never again shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again leave our sons and daughters

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d and everything we own

Never again, never again, shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again shall we sit and take orders

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

(Never again) Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d then burned of our bones (Never again)

.

Never Again. Never Again.

.

From the USA to Afghanistan

From Israel to Pakistan

From Iraq to Iran

To Russia, Poland, and France

From China over to Japan

Worldwide

Never Again

.

Shema Yisrael Adonai eloheinu Adonai ehad

(“Hear O Yisrael, the Lord is our G-d, the Lord is One.” The Shema is the most important prayer in Judaism. It is the declaration of our faith in one G-d. Jews say the Shema prayer every day, in the morning and evening. And we also say the Shema before we die.)

FIRE!

*GUNSHOT*

[munson-blurbs]

Chapter 1: Got the News Today, Doctor Said I Had to Stay

Collaboration with the fabulous @corroded-hellfire

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: When you're stuck in the hospital after the Hawkins "earthquake," you're surprised to find comfort in your new roommate, Eddie Munson. But when you find out that your injuries may compromise your dreams, the cheery façade threatens to come crashing down.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, controlled use of pain medication

WC: 3.9k

A/N: There will be six chapters to this series, one for each Jonas Brothers album. Try to spot the Easter eggs we've planted throughout!

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“I said, get this murderer out of my room!” A shrill voice from across the hall startles you from your sleep. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 7:05, but you can’t be sure if it’s morning or evening. The bright lights of Hawkins General Hospital have your internal clock all jumbled, and the constant barrage of nurses checking on you certainly doesn’t help. 

“He should be locked up in prison or rotting on death row, not using precious resources that could be used on law-abiding citizens!” the shrieking woman continues, and you grimace as your head throbs. It seems like the pain never ceases; it only travels around your body. You’ve been here for two days, and you have more questions than answers. 

There’s quiet for a few moments before the door to your room swings open and a second bed is being wheeled in, more IV lines hooked up to the poor patient than you’ve got going on. A nurse pulls the curtain separating the two sides of the room before you can get a look at whoever is lying in the bed. 

“Well, that was a record,” a male voice says from the other side of the curtain. “How long before that one freaked out? Six minutes?”

No one answers the man, but you can hear nurses and orderlies setting up any equipment the patient would need. 

“Don’t blame them,” a woman eventually mumbles, moving a machine over. “Kid killed a cheerleader and then fled the scene. I wouldn’t wanna bunk with him, either.”

A new pair of footsteps joins the crowded room, but this time it’s just your nurse, Mandy, coming in to check on you. She’s a pretty blonde woman, and though she’s usually smiling, her lips are puckered into a pout. 

“I know this is far from ideal,” she says softly, checking your vitals and marking notes on her chart, “but we’ll have people in here making sure nothing happens, okay?”

“I think she’s pretty harmless, just loud,” you lightly joke, assuming that Mandy’s referring to the banshee across the hall. “Worst thing she’ll do is trigger a migraine.”

She shakes her head. “No, hon. I’m talking about your, uh, new roommate. Edward Munson.”

Well, that explains the whole murderer outburst. Still, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Eddie? I went to school with him. Guy couldn’t even be bothered to turn in his part of a group project; I highly doubt he could pull off a murder.” You’d think he would have had something done, considering it was his second time taking O’Donnell’s senior English class, but he’d shown up empty-handed, leaving his poor partner scrambling at the last minute. 

Mandy nods, looking a little relieved herself. Maybe the thought of her having to be his nurse had been eating at her. 

“Is he awake?” you ask. You can only assume he’s not, because the Eddie Munson you remembered would never have been quiet for this long. 

“Sleeping,” Mandy says. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

“Um.” You wrinkle up your nose as you think, a sharp pain taking that moment to shoot down your leg. “When can I get some more pain medication? And food?” 

Going through the papers in your chart, Mandy’s eyes scan lines of writing until she comes to the answer she needs. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes until I can give you your next dose. Luckily, dinner should be here quicker than that.” 

“Okay,” you say with a sigh, sinking back against your pillows. 

After another round of pain meds, you’re able to drift off into a light sleep. You don’t have dreams on the medication; you’re simply floating in a haze of pinks and purples. Perhaps the dreamlessness is a good thing, considering the memories buried deep inside your unconscious mind. Your roommate is not so fortunate. 

“No! Stop!” Eddie whimpers from the bed next to you, startling you from your sleep. You can see through the translucent curtain that he’s trying to thrash, but his injuries limit his movements. “Henderson, help me! Get me out of here!” 

“Hey,” you whisper, but when he cries out again, you raise your voice slightly. “Eddie, wake up!” 

“I won’t run away, didn’t run away, gotta save Chrissy,” he mumbles, still trapped in his nightmare. “Don’t let me die. Don’t wan’ die.” The urgency in his tone falters, and you realize that he’s crying. 

“Eddie, you’re alive!” you call out to him, wishing you had the strength to walk to him and shake him awake. “You survived the earthquake, okay? But you gotta wake up!”

You watch as he jolts up involuntarily, groaning loudly as pain blooms throughout his torso. “Fuck,” he moans, clutching his ribs with one arm. “Wha—where am I? Oh, shit.” He lays back down as the realization sets in. He tries to choke back a sob, inadvertently sending himself into a coughing fit. 

“Here,” you call out to him, grabbing the cup of water on your bedside table. “Can you open the curtain and reach?”

Eddie’s able to yank back the cloth fabric, but neither of you can move close enough for him to grasp onto the cup. The two of you are confined to hospital beds, arms outstretched pathetically just to pass a glass of water. The scene is so absurd that you have to laugh. 

“You think—cough—this is—cough—funny?” Eddie asks, but his grin indicates that he also finds it amusing. “I survived the Up—earthquake, and—cough—now I’m gonna die from—cough—lack of water?”

“‘M sorry,” you manage between peals of laughter. “I’m just imagining how ridiculous we’d look to someone passing by.”

Eddie uses his last bit of strength to lunge, finally securing the cup and guzzling down the water. “Thanks, um…” He cranes his neck to see your name written on the whiteboard above your bed. “Oh, shit! Did we go to high school together?”

You nod. “We did. I graduated last year. We had Mrs. O’Donnell’s English class together.”

He wrinkles his nose at the mention of his least favorite teacher. “Ugh, yeah. I mean, not ugh that we had a class together; ugh at O’Donnell,” he blabbers. “And an extra ugh for me having to take that class again this year.”

“I thought a certain metalhead was missing from graduation,” you tease. 

“Aw, you noticed?” Eddie’s smirk makes you laugh, the pain meds probably adding to your bubbly mood. 

“Well, no one caused a commotion or flipped off old man Higgins, so yeah,” you say. “And there was a distinct lack of Black Sabbath blaring through the parking lot.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Gotta stay inspired, y’know? I don’t want to be one of those musicians who has someone write their shit for them. It makes it less real, or whatever.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “You write all of Corroded Coffin’s music?” you ask incredulously.

Eddie nods. “Well, me and the rest of the guys—wait,” he pauses, eyes narrowing with suspicion, “you know the name of my band?”

“Mhm,” you pick at the itchy wool blanket draped over your legs. “You played at the middle school talent show. I was in seventh grade, so you must’ve been in eighth.”

He doesn’t say anything for a bit; he just studies your face until a huge grin forms from cheek to cheek. “You’re the dancer!” he exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You did that routine with the, um, the fancy shoes…” 

“Pointe shoes,” you giggle. “Yeah, people weren’t too impressed. Apparently a twelve-year-old flailing on stage to Swan Lake was not the hit I’d thought it’s be.” 

“Flailing?” Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, you were amazing. Don’t tell my friends, but I, uh, secretly wanted you to win.”

“Me?!”

“Yeah, you.” He matches your surprised tone, making you laugh again. “I thought it was totally badass, getting up there and doing ballet when all the other girls were jumping around to Blondie.”

“Don’t knock Debbie Harry,” you warn him teasingly, poking your forefinger in his direction. “She is an icon, and you will show her some respect.”

Eddie brings a hand to his heart. “My deepest apologies, to both you and Ms. Harry.” He flashes another sweet smile that could melt an iceberg. “But I really did want you to win. I’ve always rooted for the underdog.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” And you do. It’s nice to know that someone besides your parents believed in you. 

“You, uh, you still dance?” Eddie asks abruptly. 

“Yup,” you tell him, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s actually what I go to school for.”

“Good,” Eddie muses, averting his gaze from your side of the room. “You were too talented to give that up.”

You’re about to respond when there’s a knock on the door and you see an orderly walk in with a food tray. You drop your head back on your pillow, humming your happiness. The orderly sets your table within your reach before placing your tray on it. Before the man can even step out the door to grab Eddie’s food, you’re inhaling the soup you’ve been given. You’re distantly aware as Eddie gets his food, but you’re busy trying to figure out what type of soup it is. Is that potato in it? 

A groan from the other side of the curtain has you looking in Eddie’s direction as you swallow a mouthful of soup.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing,” Eddie says, clearly lying.

“If we’re going to be roommates, we’re going to have to learn to be honest with one another.”

He huffs a laugh as he clangs his silverware together. “S’just that it’s gonna sound ridiculously stupid after what everyone has been through.”

“Humor me,” you say before ladling another spoonful of soup in your mouth.

“Fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I got green Jell-O. I hate that shit.” 

Your eyes lock on your own Jell-O, bright red where it sits next to your piece of bread and cup of water. “How do you feel about red?”

“Much better,” Eddie says, tearing off a piece of his own bread and shoving it into his mouth.

“Wanna trade?” you offer.

“Y’don’t have to do that,” he says through his full mouth.

“Nah, come on,” you say. “Besides, green’s my favorite color.” 

Eddie looks over at you, a skeptical look on his face as he chews. But you pick up your sealed cup of Jell-O and toss it over to him. Smiling, he throws the green in return, which you manage to catch.

“Thanks,” he says. You hum in acknowledgment as you tear off the foil lid. 

There’s a beat of silence as you both eat what Hawkins General considers dessert. “I don’t know how you like the green one,” Eddie pipes up. 

You shrug. “Jell-O is Jell-O,” you say nonchalantly, taking a big spoonful to emphasize your point. 

“Nuh uh,” Eddie shakes his head, wincing at the twinge of pain it causes. “Cherry is the superior flavor, and everyone knows it.” He slurps it obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes. 

“Geez, how does Chrissy put up with you?” Your tone is light and joking, so you’re taken aback by the darkness that takes over his face. “What?”

“How do you know about Chrissy?” he asks, voice barely audible. 

Your face heats up; you’d forgotten that he didn’t know you’d heard him talking in his sleep. “Um, you said something about saving her when you were having that nightmare,” you admit, softening when you realize how vulnerable he is. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she isn’t—wasn’t,” he amends. “She was the girl who died in my trailer. But I…I didn’t kill her, I swear.” Eddie looks over at you with misty eyes. “I can’t tell you what happened, but you have to believe me.”

You hold his gaze. “I believe you,” you murmur, quiet but assured. 

The two of you go back to your food, plastic utensils scraping styrofoam bowls, until Eddie speaks up again. “You…you said I talked about Chrissy in my sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“What else did I say?” He looks ambivalent, like he’s unsure if he wants to know what his subconscious mind churned up. 

You think back for a moment. “You asked someone for help, and then you said you didn’t want to, um…you didn’t want to die.” Your eyes flit over to his side of the room, but he’s practically boring a hole in his Jell-O cup with how intently he’s staring at it. 

“Did you tell me to wake up? That I survived?” He finally allows himself to make eye contact with you, a trace of a smile dancing on his lips. 

“Yeah—I can never remember if you’re supposed to let the nightmare end naturally, but you seemed really upset.” You gnaw on your lower lip anxiously. 

Eddie rests his head on the pillow. “God, this is gonna sound corny as hell,” he starts, chuckling to himself, “but when you did that, it was like…I saw brightness, y’know? Not like, Eddie, come into the light,” he drops his voice an octave and wiggles his fingers, making you giggle, “but like the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. Does that make sense?”

You nod, watching him exhale in relief. 

“Guess you’re my sunshine then, huh?” He gives you a shy smile that you easily return, trying to push down the spark of electricity that seems to flow between you. 

“Hey, how about this?” Eddie asks as he lands on a channel. Your eyes feel like they’re going to roll back in your head when you see a NASCAR race on tiny television.

“Absolutely not,” you answer. 

“Aw, come on,” Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s an American pastime.”

“It’s one big left turn, is what it is,” you shout. “Toss me the remote?” Eddie chuckles and goes to throw it your way before you wince and add, “Watch the leg!”

He’s careful to avoid the area as he sends it your way, but his eyes drift down the blanket at the mention of your limb. “Is that why you’re in here?”

“No, I’ve always wanted to vacation here,” you reply, maintaining a deadpan expression. 

“I hear the eleventh floor is just wonderful this time of year,” Eddie throws back, feigning a posh British accent. Terribly, you might add. “How bad is it?” he presses, motioning towards your leg. 

“Dunno yet,” you answer honestly. “They took some x-rays and did a bunch of scans; now I’m just waiting for the doctor. They’re probably just overwhelmed.”

Eddie nods. “Nothing like a good, old-fashioned earthquake to shake things up.” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to react to his pun. Nothing. “Oh, c’mon! That was a good one!”

“You’re a comedic genius, Eddie Munson,” you joke, and he flips you off, nearly snagging the IV tube pinching his skin. “I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll probably be in a cast for six weeks, maybe have to do some physical therapy. This isn’t my first broken bone.” 

“How do you do that?” Eddie muses. 

“Do what?” 

“Be so…positive,” he explains sheepishly. “I mean, you could be all bitter or anxious, but you’re calm, cool, and collected.” He fiddles with his fingers, frowning as though something is missing. “You really are a ray of sunshine, huh?”

“That’s me.” Truthfully, you’re worried that this could be more than just a run-of-the-mill break, but you don’t let that fear seep through. Instead, you aim the remote at the tiny TV in the corner of the room, settling on a soap opera rerun. It’s not what you’d usually watch, but you’re determined to get your revenge for his NASCAR escapades earlier. 

To your chagrin, Eddie’s enthralled with the on-screen drama. “Oh, shit!” He rubs his hands together. “Is this the one where Shelby sleeps with Theo and his identical twin brother, Mark?” He chuckles at the bemused look on your face. “I got hooked on this show when I was home with the flu last year,” he confesses, though he doesn’t look the least bit ashamed. 

“Eddie Munson, secret soap opera aficionado?” You waggle your eyebrows. “Scandalous. What will your fans think?”

“I am what I am, Sunshine.” He sits up a little straighter as a woman with big hair and even bigger breasts shoves ultrasound photos at an impossibly handsome man. “No fuckin’ way!” Eddie gasps. “She’s knocked up!”

“How did you not see that coming? It’s like the oldest trick in the book!” you ask incredulously. “Now she has to figure out which brother is the dad.”

Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes widen in shock. “But they’re identical! How’s she gonna do that?”

“Guess you’ll just have to watch and find out!” you chirp, giggling as he lets out an impatient sigh. 

“Mr. Munson?” a nurse calls from the doorway, pushing an empty wheelchair. “We’re ready to run your tests. Just have to transfer you to the chair.” She pats the back of it, trying to keep some level of professionalism, but you can tell that she’s nervous being around an alleged murderer. She holds out her hand to help Eddie out of bed, and he shoots you a tight grin. 

“I’m goin’ commando under here, Sunshine,” he warns you. “Look away. This show ain’t free.”

You cover your eyes dramatically as he plops into the chair, grunting and groaning the whole way down. “Is it safe?”

“You’re good,” Eddie reassures you as the nurse starts to wheel him out of the room. “Hey, let me know who the father is when I get back. My money’s on Theo.”

You narrow your eyes. “How much money?”

“Hmm,” Eddie taps his chin with his forefinger, pretending to be deep in thought. “It won’t be as much as usual, since I already bought a beach house and a Jaguar this year…$3,000 sound good?”

You give him a little salute, turning your attention back to the show. Settling in against the pillows, you get immersed in the show yourself, rooting for some characters, and wanting some to get stabbed in the backs like they deserve. Just as it comes back to Shelby’s storyline, your doctor walks in, a tight smile on his lips. 

“What’s the news, Dr. Sanoj?”

“Well,” he says, looking down at the chart in his hands. “Like we suspected, it’s your femur. It was crushed pretty badly. It’s going to need a few pins in it, which will require some surgery.” 

Letting a deep sigh fall from your lips, you nod your head. “Okay. Was kind of expecting that.” 

“Now, we won’t know for sure until we get in there and take a look at things, but there’s a chance you’ll need a mobility aid to help you get around.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, brows pinching in confusion. “Like crutches?”

“Crutches are one type of aid, yes. But they range in variety. It’s things like wheelchairs, walkers, canes. But this will be a better discussion for once we see how the surgery turns out,” Dr. Sanoj says.

“Would I need to use one forever?” The sympathetic look that softens your doctor’s face lets you know he heard the trepidation in your voice. “Will I be able to dance again?”

“Like I said,” Dr. Sanoj says, “this discussion is best for once the surgery is done.”

You nod your head, knowing you probably won’t be able to get any further information on the subject out of him. “When will I have the surgery?”

“Scheduling is going to work that out and they should let you know by the end of the day. You can expect to be here the days following the surgery, but you shouldn’t be cooped up in these hospital walls for too much longer. You’ll get there, you’ll see. One day at a time.” 

“Thank you, Doctor.” 

A funk has taken over you once Dr. Sanoj leaves the room. A mobility aid? Could you dance with one of those? Surgery and recovery you planned on, but the goal was always to get you back in the dance studio, and needing a device to help you simply get around was not what you had been expecting. 

Allowing yourself to stew in your own self pity for a few moments, you realize you’ve missed the big reveal on which brother is the father of Shelby’s baby. You’ll have to tell Eddie that. Explain the doctor came in and you were talking to him. But, you think to yourself, Eddie doesn’t need to know just what rough shape your leg is in. He calls you his sunshine, doesn’t he? That would just bring some gray clouds that he did not need in his life. He’s got a lot going on and is going to need to keep his spirits up. That’ll be easier for you to do if you pretend like everything is rainbows and lollipops. 

The door opens and Eddie is wheeled back inside, groaning in pain as he holds a hand over his ribs. 

“Right here with the pain medicine,” Nurse Mandy says, stepping in behind him. 

“Oh, please be mine,” Eddie says, watching the bundle in Mandy’s hands like a hawk. “Sorry roomie, I think I need it more than you do right now.”

“S’all yours,” you tell him.

Mandy sets a bag of IV fluid up as the transporter helps Eddie get back in bed. His face is pale, and you’ve learned that comes when agonizing pain is ripping through you. 

“Okay, Mr. Munson. Should start hitting you at any minute now,” Mandy says. 

“Thanks,” Eddie says, letting his eyes drift closed. He stays that way after both the nurse and the transporter leave the room. You think he’s fallen asleep until he speaks again. “So, which brother was it?”

“Ah, sorry, Eddie,” you say. “Doc came in and I was talking with him, so I think I missed it.”

“Good news?” Eddie’s opened his eyes and turns his head to look at you, genuine concern written across his face. 

For a moment, you contemplate spilling everything: the surgery, the mobility aid, the possibility of never dancing again. But you shove it deep down, determined to keep your cheery disposition that he so desperately needs. “Y-Yeah, everything’s looking ship-shape.” Ship-shape? You’re a terrible liar, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Thas’ good shit.” From the dreamy quality his voice is taking in, you can tell the pain meds are starting to take effect. 

“How’re you feeling?” you ask.

“Sore as hell from how they had to maneuver me for x-rays. But I feel the medicine kicking in.” A smile comes to his face and you can tell the giddiness of the high is hitting him. “Time for me to fly.”

You giggle and turn your attention back to the television. A game show is on now, so you snuggle in to play along. The contestant is getting an obvious puzzle wrong and it makes you roll your eyes. You’re about to say something to Eddie about it, but then his soft snores reach your ears. Turning your head to look at him, you notice how peaceful he looks. All you can do is pray he stays that way and isn’t plagued by any other nightmares. 

Sunshine, he calls you. It’s the nicest nickname you’ve ever been given. You’re hoping you can keep that bright and optimistic attitude up enough to help him out when the clouds come rolling in. It’s not a one-way street, though. Eddie is going to be your light, your breath of fresh air, your optimism. You just don’t know it yet.

--

[thought--bubble]

Let's Work it Out

Ettore X (Indifferent Crewmate Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Based on THIS request

Word Count: 1979

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Ettore, swearing, Smut, dub-con, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex (P in V), one brief line is a reference to previous non-con just a proper heads up. It's really quick, but yeah. Just in case.

"I hate this fucking ship." This is the thought that runs through your mind on a constant loop.

When you agreed to take this mission, you had thought it would be a good alternative to prison.But after months of floating around on this metal hellscape, you know you should have just stayed on earth.

Trapped in a tin can with a bunch of arseholes. At least in prison, the population was bigger. You had a better chance of finding people you could stand.

But here? Misery.

Boyse was fucking annoying with her constant bitching "this isn't right", "she can't do this", you know she's right but fuck, you can't change it and neither can she, so at least she could do you all a favor and just shut the fuck up.

Then there's Monte. The high and mighty one who thinks he is too good for the box. He walks around as if he is somehow morally superior to the rest of you, as if he wasn't a murderer too.

"You wouldn't be on this ship if you weren't asshat. Calm down."

Then there is the absolutely insane Dr. Dibs, who is apparently the only other person on this ship that is allowed to touch you and not in a fun way. Doing her freaky experiments knocking all the women up one by one and accidentally killing them off like some fucked up version of Russian roulette.

Then there is Ettore. He doesn't bother you as much as he bothers all the other female inmates, which actually makes him amusing in a way. He's definitely got the creepy staring guy role down, but who could blame him? There isn't much to look at on this stupid ship. Everything looks the same.

There are more irritating, annoying inmates, but you couldn't be arsed to learn their names. Fuck every single person on this ship, as far as you are concerned.

Most days, like today, when you have "free time," you just lay in your bunk. Trying to daydream and imagine you were back on earth before you irreparably fucked your life up.

Nansen is up on her bunk doing the same thing. She doesn't bother you much as she's quiet, and at the moment, Ettore is hanging off her bunk, literally sniffing at her.

"He's so fucking weird" you think as you watch him, trying not to laugh at the fact that this is what passes for amusement around here.

Nansen clearly gets fed up with him sniffing around her like some deranged dog and finally shoves him away.

The frustration on his face finally does you in, and you start laughing, no not laughing, cackling. He responds quickly with a flash of rage before quickly exiting the room.

"Thanks for that, that was actually fun," you yell over to Nansen before you roll onto your side, still chuckling to yourself.

Time moves slowly here and after what felt like hours Nansen left to go do something or other leaving you in the room alone still laying on your side and staring at the wall as if willing it to bring you some sort of escape from this place.

Your eyelids get heavier and heavier as you stare at the wall before they finally slide shut. Only the slight humming of the ship and distant voices can be heard as you feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

Until you hear it. The door closing. You open your eyes but don't move. Normally, it wouldn't be weird to hear someone enter the room. It is a shared space, after all. But no one ever closes the door. It's always left open.

You wait a few minutes while you continue to pretend you're asleep. Maybe one of the girls are douching after a visit with Dibs or puking up their sleepy time pills? Best to pretend you are asleep so they don't try to kick you out of the room.

So you wait. For movement, noise, or anything, but you are met with silence.

What feels like eternity passes with your heart thumping in your chest when finally, you turn around to see Ettore sitting on the floor next to your bunk, some of your long loose hair between his fingers.

You instantly jump back.

"Piss off!" You yell while pushing back with your feet towards the wall.

Ettore grips your ankle and drags you across the bunk and onto the floor.

"Arse!" You howl as your back makes contact with the harsh floor. Ettore stares down at you, a predatory look in his eyes.

"Don't you touch me, you prick!" You snarl at him, slowly rising to your feet.

Ettore doesn't say a word. Just slightly tilts his head to the side as his eyes scan you from top to bottom.

This guy isn't a dog, he's a fucking wolf and he is sorely mistaken if he thinks you're a lamb ripe for the slaughter. Yet you can't help but find him oddly enticing, the piercing blue eyes, his fill chest, and the fact that he keeps his mouth shut is a nice bonus.

As he moves toward you, the decision is made, you tackle him, wrapping your arms around his midsection, bringing him to the ground with a loud smack, and straddle his hips.

"Don't fuckin move you prick!" You hold his hands up by his head and are surprised when you see no anger, only unbridled lust.

And then you feel it. He is rock-hard beneath you, and suddenly, the fact that he isn't fighting you off makes sense.

Against your better judgment and any rational sense, you decide to tease him. It's been so long since you have been touched. Why not indulge for a moment?

"You like being under me, don't ya?" You tease as you rock your hips against him.

"Yea, nice place to be" his words are dripping in lust as he pushes his hips against yours grinding his cock against your cunt.

This boy is desperate.

You chuckle to yourself and grind back against him. His eyes roll back slightly as his jaw drops open.

He's so responsive, so much so that it drives heat straight to your core.

"You want me to apologize? For laughing earlier?" You continue to grind against his cock a sensation he loves, if the look on his face is anything to go by.

"Don't care," He grunts as he moves his hips a bit faster against you and closes his eyes.

"What if I said I would apologize by riding that big old cock you have stuffed into those scrubs huh?"

Ettore's eyes flash open, and he stares up at you, licking his lips.

"Would you like that?" You tease as you again roll your hips against him, but you make the mistake of closing your eyes and when you do Ettore wastes no time breaking out from the grips you have on his wrists and flipping you over onto your back.

You grunt at the impact. "Fuck, thought we were getting somewhere?" Your grumble in pain.

"Collectin my apology." He sniffs up the side of your neck before reaching down to pull off your scrub bottoms.

You want to correct him. Maybe explain. What riding him means, but again, you couldn't be arsed.

You push your scrubs down the rest of the way and bring your legs up around his hips.

It's been far too fucking long since you've been fucked and he's weird yeah but he's also hot and is most likely gonna fuck you silly.

Ettore leans forward to capture your mouth, but you turn your head to the side.

No fucking kissing dipshit.

Luckily, he is quick on the uptake and goes for your neck, seemingly unbothered by the subtle rejection.

He brings his hand to your heat, sliding his digits into your leaking wetness.

"Mmmmm" He groans eyes closed as he hovers above you, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing small precise circles on the nerve.

You close your eyes and lean your head back, your climax getting closer as he continues his ministrations while gently biting at your neck.

You feel your body tense as you climb that hill, wanton moans slipping from your lips as Ettore slides a finger into your canal, his fingertips exploring, looking for the magic spot that makes a girl go wild.

You take a deep breath in and rock your hips against his hand, your labored breaths, and sounds of pleasure gradually growing in volume, and he knows he's found it.

Ettore gets to work rubbing at the spot deep inside you as he pulls back to watch your face contort in pleasure.

It's so primal. Emotions aren't necessary. Just basic physical need and gratification, one of the driving forces behind Ettore's every move.

He quickly removes his finger from you and grips your thighs tightly, pulling you up to him, and plunges himself inside you in one swift thrust.

The only thing he feels.

He audibly groans at the sensation, jaw hanging slack as his pace quickly increases.

He has tunnel vision. He wants that sensation and needs that sensation, and there is not a thing in heaven, on earth, or this damn ship that is going to stop him now.

In just moments, his pace is punishing the hard smack of his hips against your skin and the delicious mixture of pleasure and pain have you reeling.

"Fuck!" You bite your lower lip nearly breaking the skin as he bullies your insides, hitting all the right spots with each violent thrust.

He watches himself entering you memorized be each movement. He is practically drooling seeing your fluids building up on the base of his cock. Dampening the short blonde curls that grow there.

He can't help but think to himself how much better it is when they want it.

He brings his thumb to your clit working the nub in small circles wanting that clench he knows you can give him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your eyes fly back open as you hit your peak temporarily going deaf, body numb to all feeling other than the overwhelming pleasure.

Ettore smiles, not a happy smile, more of a victory smile. It's time to chase his peak, to take what he wants needs.

As you begin to float back down from your high, Ettore is climbing his. Every thought in him consists of reaching that goal. That euphoria.

His grunting grows louder, and his legs begin to shake as he pushes his body to its limit, determined to have the most intense experience he can create.

"If you ever want to do this again, you'll pull out." You don't know if he will heed your warning. He doesn't care about you. Why should he? You do hope that his needs in the future will outweigh his wants right now, but only time will tell.

He says nothing, his eyes closed as he groans loudly, you feel him stiffen, and just as you think he is going to ignore your warning, he pulls out shooting his spend onto your quivering thighs.

You both stay put a moment before you reach into your laundry and snatch up a shirt that's meant for washing, wiping yourself down.

Ettore watches you intently before finally opening his mouth. You see him debate with himself whether or not he should say whatever it is he is planning on saying.

You watch the gears move in his head moderately, amused as you start to put your bottoms back on.

"Good grief, just say it." You can't help but lose your patience. He is back to being the weird, staring guy, and it's irritating.

"Again?" He finally mutters.

You chuckle as you realize he is confirming that this is going to happen again.

"Sure" you shrug "Need something to do on this fucking ship"

To be added to taglist click here

[sodabrain10]

so ive made this au for a WoF campaign im working on where i scrap everything and rework it for funnies. i made this reference guide to help visualize. i'll give a basic run down of how it works but dont be afraid to ask questions or give criticism!

Instead of there being 8 separate hives all far away from each other, "The Hive" is a conglomerate of several other hives stacked on top of each other, with the older hives on the bottom and the newer ones on top. Each hive is named after the queen that oversaw the construction of that particular hive. Hives are also built by Hivewings exclusively. Silkwings are no longer slaves to Hivewings, but that doesn't mean the tribes are on good terms.

Hornet Hive: The largest hive in the structure but not the oldest. Named after Queen Hornet, this hive contains the Hivewing Palace, a colossal structure designed to hold the royal family and the Hivewing library. There is plenty of flying space around the palace so dragons can fly to other hives, and on the floor, there are markets, gardens, and walking spaces for recreation. There is also Queen Hornet's fountain, displaying the former queen with her wings outstretched while landing on a rock, holding a spear.

Beewolf Hive: The oldest hive, named after Queen Beewolf. This hive houses construction, hive maintenance, and architecture. The interior walls of the hive feature many coves for treestuff production to keep the hives maintained. The center of the hive allows architects and engineers to think of new ways to add to The Hive, building model towers and new designs. At the entrance to this hive is a statue of Queen Beewolf, sternly working over blueprints

Velvet Hive: Named after Queen Velvet, this hive is the tribe's outpost for soldiers and guards. It also contains the tribe's prison, featuring large towers in the center of the room with metal bars. At the base of these towers is Queen Velvet's statue, with the mighty queen raised up in a battle stance and roaring.

Abispa Hive: Also known as the hospital hive, this is where sick dragons come to be healed. Interestingly enough, this hive's interior is completely spherical, with alcoves in the walls for dragons to rest. Queen Abispa's statue hangs from the ceiling, with the queen in a constant swooping position.

Leafcutter Hive: This hive was named after Queen Leafcutter and primarily grows crops for the tribe. The alcoves for this hive are much wider to allow sunlight in for crops, and part of the hive is open to the outside for rain and sunlight. The center of the hive features Queen Leafcutter's fountain, which supplies water to all of the crops. She sits with her head and wings folded back, holding up a bowl of water that spills into the fields.

Camoati Hive: The residential area of the hive. Most of this hive is space for dragon homes, but at the top of the hive there is a covered pavilion with play spaces for dragonets. At the center is the statue of Queen Camoati, playfully holding up her daughter, Princess Vespula.

Vespula Hive: Also known as the research hive, or sometimes the "useless" hive. This hive works on monitoring prey species, new plants, or whatever else might be important to the tribe. Structurly, it is very similar to Camoati Hive, except the top levels out for experimental spaces. One of these spaces contains Queen Vespula's statue, inquisitivly looking down at a plant cupped in her claws.

Evania Hive: The newest hive, built for teaching dragonets. The hive features sets of classrooms hanging from the ceiling like cocoons. These are reserved for older dragonets, while hatchlings are watched on platforms below. One of these platforms features the statue of Queen Evania, holding an armful of scrolls and smiling down at any staring dragonets.

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 3

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 2568

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: military setting, violence, explicit language.

PT4: https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-4/g299e2a9fj7s

When the van slows to a stop, Soap reaches over and snags a hand under my seatbelt clip to release it before undoing his own. His gloved knuckles brush against my stomach and there’s a slight pressure as he undoes the buckle. As quickly as he reached over, he disappears.

“We’ll wait ‘til everyone else’s off,” he says quietly, but I catch it immediately. There’s no one else he’d be talking to right now. Soap didn’t speak another word the entire ride, even to Ghost. No one else needs to hear his quiet words, they’re solely for me.

I nod in response, but I don’t know if he catches it.

The blindfold stays on as I descend the steps leading out of the van. A startling wave of icy air whips around me. All of the warmth I gained on our ride here is stripped from my body and I already feel the goose bumps rising on my arms.

“Fuck it's cold,” I mutter under my breath. My feet land on an uneven surface that I think is gravel. I can feel a layer of snow sticking to the bottom of my socks. The fabric freezes to the surface and sticks with resistance when I try and lift them. I can hear people unloading equipment from the vehicle and somewhere behind us another two or three vehicles pull up.

“Fair jeelit out,” Soap states to no one in particular. I don’t know if I heard him right and I’ve no clue what jeelit means, but it must refer to the cold. His reassuring hand once again finds its place at the back of my upper arm to quickly guide me inside.

It’s warmer inside, but only because there’s no wind. I follow Soap’s directions as he leads me to a room somewhere to wait while the team unloads. Inside is out of the wind, but not much better. Everywhere is freezing. Where the hell are we? It’s only November. It shouldn’t be this damn cold.

In the room alone, I can finally take the mask off. It’s a dim, bleak room with no windows and no furniture. A single fluorescent light hangs from the ceiling. It feels like the strange lighting plays with my eyes and forms shadows that aren’t really there. As I exhale, my breath visibly hangs in the air, illuminated by the light. I find myself drawn to the back corner of the room where I take a seat against the cement wall. I feel like I’m in a prison cell being punished for a crime I didn’t commit.

My stiff fingers untie the plastic bag to grab the blanket they gave me. It’s thick and rough, but warm. It wraps fully around my body, providing a refuge from the cold. Balled up in the corner of the room and wrapped in the old blanket, I’m finally able to relax enough to doze off. Being in a constant state of fight or flight is exhausting. I can almost feel the buildup of cortisol in my blood from the last several weeks. I’ve yet to catch a break and it’s taking a physical toll.

I don’t know how long I’m there, but when someone finally comes to the door, it’s not Soap. The sound of the latch unlocking startles me from my slumber. A large, dark figure looms in the doorway. He fills almost the entire space and is only a couple inches away from the top of the frame. A small pit in my stomach begins to grow. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light before I see the outline of the skull mask.

Ghost holds onto the sides of his bulletproof vest as he observes me in the corner. His wordless presence changes the entire feeling of the room. Everywhere he goes, Ghost brings with him the threat of violence. A dangerous ambiance floods the room as I’m reminded of our interactions last night.

I wait for his husky voice to fill the room with an order, but it remains silent as he watches me with those cold, calculating eyes. I feel like an animal of prey backed into a corner by a predator. There’s a lot about Ghost that’s predatory. His stature alone is built to kill. He’s the tallest man here only next to one other. But that man is slim compared to Ghost, who is broad and built with thick muscles gained from years of experience with hand-to-hand combat. Although he’s built like a machine, he’s incredibly stealthy. I wouldn’t be surprised if his call name originated because of how quiet he is when he moves. When he walks behind you, you don’t even know he’s there. His footsteps are utterly silent and he somehow blends into every room he enters. You don’t notice him until you see that terrifying skull mask staring back at you and by then, it's too late.

Ghost also seems to have an expansive understanding of people’s body language and facial expressions. He knows where a conversation is headed before it reaches its destination. He seems to know the next move of the people around him before they’ve thought about it themselves. He does this all based on how they hold themselves and where they’re looking. It takes him just seconds to catch a lie being told to him based on your micro expressions and tone of voice. He leaves no rock left unturned and is incredibly detailed. When Ghost looks at you the way he is looking at me now, you can almost be certain he’s reading your thoughts.

He's confident in the way he holds himself. Ghost knows his capabilities and what he brings to the team. He has more than earned his title and position on this team. The men he works with have unyielding respect for him and rightfully so. He’s technical, mechanical to the point that you might think he isn’t human.

There’s a darkness to him that makes him suited for this profession. He’s experienced and committed violence that most men can’t even imagine. Something has happened in his past that makes him choose this lifestyle - this violence over and over again because even it is better than what he knows from his past life. The old Ghost has died and what remains is the most efficient of killing machines.

So yes, when I see him standing in front of me, analyzing every shift and micro expression, looking for ulterior motives, it terrifies me. Because even though my only motive is to learn about my parent’s past, he already seems to know more about them than I ever have. When he looks at me, Ghost knows more about me than I will for years. And that, is a terrifying thought.

“Where’s soap?” I ask.

“In a meeting,” Ghost responds.

“Is this another interrogation?” I shift in my spot to see him better and wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

“It could be,” his voice deepens as he fully steps into the room, silently closing the door behind him. The pit in my stomach begins to grow. I straighten my posture as I sit on the floor and bunch the blanket in my hands with nervous fists.      

“I thought I was cleared,” my throat is tight and my voice goes up an octave when I respond. Ghost stalks closer to me, clearing the small room in just a few slow strides.

“No. You were deemed non-violent,” he says. “People with clearance don’t walk around wearing cuffs,” he stays standing as he approaches me. I find myself craning my neck to look up at him. Ghost stands directly in front of the fluorescent light. Rays shine down around his shoulders causing him to appear as a silhouette. I have to squint my eyes to make out his mask. Cold eyes stare down at me. I adjust the blanket again, but it’s no use.

“I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home,” I have to be careful or my voice will break. “Why can’t you guys just put me on a plane to New York?”

“You’re not going back to New York,” his voice is certain.

“Why? I’m no use to you guys. In fact, I’m the opposite of useful. You have to spend the extra money and manpower to feed and watch me. We’re both better off if I leave.”

“Useless things don’t last long around here,” he states as he crouches down to my eye level. Ghost’s forearms rest on his knees as he removes the gloves from his hands. He slowly and deliberately pulls on each finger of the glove as he maintains eye contact. My eyes are drawn to the alluring sight of the veins on the back of his hands. They ripple under the dim light as he flexes his hands after freeing them from their restraints.

“Does Soap know you’re here?” a sound of annoyance escapes his chest at my question. My stomach twists. Shouldn’t have asked that.

“Soap doesn’t need to know I’m here,” Ghost pauses, leaning in closer so our eyes are level. “Soap answers to me. Not the other way around. I say jump. He asks how high,” Ghost’s eyes carefully scan over my face, taking in every detail. His voice is low, serious, and unyielding. “Stop asking about Soap. He can’t help you. The only person who can help you right now, is me.”

I force a swallow before nodding. All the while I never break eye contact with him. Once our eyes meet, it’s hard to look away. His gaze is paralyzing and even when I tell my eyes to look elsewhere, I can’t.

“Understood?” his voice is just above a whisper.

“Yes sir,” I respond as the world around me blurs. All I can see are those hypnotizing eyes that demand your attention in all of it’s entirety.

“Right,” Ghost says as he stands back up and paces around the room. “Yesterday you said you were researching your father’s past. What did you find?”

“I was able to get in contact with one of his cousins on Facebook. I was hoping to reach out to more relatives, but she said she wasn’t in contact with anyone from that side of the family. She also said that she cut herself off from our family for a reason and that I’d be stupid to try and establish that connection again. She warned that no good come would come from it.”

“Have you met this cousin before?” Ghost asks.

“No, but both of my parents spoke of her and she knew information about our family that isn’t public,” I respond. “Even though she didn’t support what I was doing, she gave me the mailing address for one of my uncles, Dimitri Makarov, so I wrote to him next,” I continue, but notice a shift in Ghost's demeanour when I mention his name. “I never got to read his letter though, I had just picked it up from the post office and that’s when I was kidnapped.”

“What do you know about Dmitri Makarov?” He asks, pacing back towards me.

“Nothing. My father never spoke of his brothers. I wouldn’t doubt they’re part of the reason he left. I asked several times about them as a child but learned quickly it was a sore subject. For a long time, I kept my questions to myself. Snooped when I could, but never found anything interesting,” I think of all the times I’d go through my parents’ mail as a kid - looking for letters from our family; Christmas, birthday, anniversary cards – to only find an endless supply of bills.  “Do you know that name?”

Ghost chooses his words wisely before speaking. “It’s a name familiar to 141.”

His response isn’t reassuring.

“My parent’s changed their last name when we immigrated. It doesn’t really feel like we’re related at all. I can’t even remember meeting most of my family.”

“What’s the other brother’s name?” Ghost skips over my last statement.

“I don’t know. I didn’t know Dmitri’s name either until I started digging,” Something about his expression leads me to think he knows more than he’s revealing, but I’m in no position to be asking questions. There’s something new to Ghost’s eyes. This conversation contains information he wants but I’m just not sure why. Is it possible whoever my father and his brothers were involved with are known to 141?

“Has your father ever flown back to Russia?” he asks.

“He went back for my grandfather’s funeral a few months ago. I wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t allow it,” I think back to all of the times he’s travelled. It isn’t a regular thing, but a couple of times each year he goes on business trips. My parents make an effort of going on a trip once every year or two. Sometimes I get to go with them, but not often. I don’t know where he goes when he travels, he’ll tell me one place, but in hindsight that doesn’t mean much without proof. “You know, he’s never specifically said that he went to Russia, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t.”

Ghost’s expression remains stoic. I wish I could see the rest of his face, just for the chance to read his reactions. What does this all mean? My father left that life; surely Ghost doesn’t think that is a lie?

“Do you think he’s involved?” my voice wavers. He doesn’t spend much time considering the question. In Ghost’s mind, he already knows.

“Can’t say,” he says as though he’s unsure of the possibility. He isn’t being truthful. What else has he misled me about? The realization that my father could possibly still be involved with the life he supposedly left behind starts to sink in. My emotions begin to tangle in themselves. The urge to cry pricks at the corner of my eyes and I have to close them to prevent a tear from escaping.

“This is so fucked up,” I mumble. I wait for him to ask more questions, but they never come. Ghost watches me closely as I process everything. With a sigh, I finally bring myself to look up at him. His deep brown eyes meet mine and for a moment, neither of us says anything. I can almost imagine his brows furrowing as he tries to determine what I’m thinking about. In reality, it probably doesn’t take him much effort to determine my thoughts. I grab the blanket and use it to wipe the bottom of my nose. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“As long as it takes,” his tone is reserved.

“As long as it takes for what?” the urge to cry returns. At this rate, I’ll never get to go home. Ghost gets up from his position without answering me. He heads to the door and pauses when it opens.

“Soap will get you once he’s free,” he looks back at me once more. There’s something almost hesitant about the way he holds himself. His hand grips the edge of the door and for a second, I think he’s going to say something else. But then he intentionally knocks on the frame once with his knuckles before turning and pushing off. The loud clang of the lock echoes through the empty room.

[toadlessgirl]

Okay, time to get pretentious and REALLY talk about this shot.

So put on your over-analysis goggles, and let’s talk about the Imperial Cog, Renaissance-era military forts, 18th century prison architecture, the military-industrial complex, the surveillance state, and why this single shot of Mon Mothma standing in a doorway in “Nobody’s Listening!” (the 9th episode of Andor season one) is making me so feral I want to kiss Luke Hull and his entire production design team right on the mouth.

For those of you not in the know - the shape on the screen behind Major Partagaz is the crest of the Galactic Empire - often called the Imperial Cog. It appears throughout Star Wars media on flags, tie fighter helmets, uniforms and as a glowing hologram outside ISB HQ.

In canon it was adapted from the crest of the Galactic Republic. 

irl it was created by original trilogy costume designer John Mollo. Mollo has stated that the symbol was inspired by the shape of historical fortifications.

Bastion forts (aka star forts) first appear during the Renaissance with the advent of the cannon. Their shape eliminated blind spots, allowing for a 360 degree field of fire.

An apt metaphor for the Empire. Powerful, imposing and leaving you with nowhere to hide.

The Imperial crest also strongly resembles a gear or cog - hence the common “Imperial Cog” nickname.

Given how inextricably linked military and industry are, it’s also an apt metaphor. Both alluding to the Empire’s massive industrial power, and how it treats all of its citizens with a startling lack of humanity, valuing them only for what they are able to produce for the Empire.

The idea of the cog is repeated in the shape of whatever it is that they’re producing in the prison. They’re literally cogs in the Imperial machine making more cogs for the machine... while inside a larger cog.

This shape, in relation to a prison, also references something else which was almost certainly intentional on the production team’s part.

In the 1791 British philosopher and social theorist Jeremy Bentham proposed a design for a prison he referred to as the “panopticon” - the name derived from the Greek word for “all seeing”.

The basic design for the panopticon was a large circular rotunda of cells with a single watchtower in the center. The plan would allow a single guard to theoretically observe every cell in the prison, but more importantly cause the prisoners to believe they are under surevillance at all times, while never being certain.

Later philosophers (notably Michel Foucault) used the panopticon as a metaphor for social control under totalitarian regimes or surveillance states. The perceived constant surveillance of a panopticon causes prisoners to self-police due to the belief they are always being watched, even if they don’t know for certain that is true. They live in constant fear even if nobody is actually watching them, even if “Nobody’s Listening!” 

The idea of the metaphorical panopticon has in more recent years been adapted to many other examples of social control: CCTV, social media and business management...

Like the concept of cubicles in an open floor plan office.

So that all being established - let’s finally talk about Mon Mothma’s apartment.

The cog shape is everywhere. There’s hardly a shot where at least one cog isn’t visible. Every room is connected by cog-shaped doorways.

The shape serves as a backdrop to most scenes, often centered and featured prominently.

(Side Note: The cog also appears as a repeated pattern on room dividers with the interesting added detail of intersecting lines that make them resemble spider webs.

The fact that Mon is often filmed directly through these web-like screens (particularly when conducting rebellion business) leads me to believe that this was a very intentional choice.

Even in the very heart of the Empire the nascent Rebellion is starting to build a web of networks and intelligence.)

I had originally presumed that the repeated appearance of the cog was just Luke Hull and his production team adding some brilliant visual storytelling to their already amazing sets. But the following line from episode ten leads me to believe they intended for these details to have an in-story explanation as well.

When speaking to Tay and Davo Skuldon about the apartment Mon states that “It’s state property. The rules are strict on decor. Our choices for change are limited.”

While it’s unclear whether the “state” in this instance is Mon’s home planet of Chandrila or the Empire itself - that second option makes the decor even more insidious.

If Mon’s apartment is Empire property that means the shape of the doors is intentional in-world, not just for the sake of visual storytelling. It means that this was a conscious decision by the Empire. A reminder to even the richest and most powerful of its citizens that they are always watching - whether you can see them or not.

Which brings us back to our original shot.

My favorite thing about this shot isn’t just that is shows how very alone Mon Mothma is. 

It isn’t just that she’s in the heart of the Empire, surrounded and dwarfed - just another cog in their machine.

It isn’t just that’s she trapped in her own metaphorical prison, worrying her self sick about who may be watching, not safe even in her own home.

What makes this shot truly extraordinary to me, is that right in the midst of the Empire you can see a new symbol forming.

Forming with Mon Mothma right at the center.

It’s a bit blocky, still constrained by the the harsh lines of the Empire, but giving how intentional every design decision on this show has been I find it pretty hard to believe it’s there by accident.

A symbol that will one day adorn the helmet of a boy from Tatooine.

One that will come to represent what all rebellions are built on...

[starcurtain]

I guess it's because his Warp is called 'gilded imprisonment', and the phonecall with Jade where he says 'I don't wanna bet anything just to escape your clutches'.

Kinda makes him a foil to Robin and warped parallel to Sunday in a way I think if you see him as thinking of his job as a gilded cage. It may not really be true, maybe he can walk away anytime he wants I'm sure he has the power and ability to even if hed be up for silencing if he left the Stonehearts, but he has nowhere else to go so he may just be trapping himself there with his own apathy. Hope that made sense lol

Always enjoy reading your thoughts ty for the food 🙏

(Will answer the part about the character foils in a different post because that is a whole long thing of its own!!)

See, I definitely think this is the issue, because I have had people say that exact thing to me "Well his warp is called gilded imprisonment so that has to be referring to the IPC!" Like... Do people think the IPC has a monopoly on the word "gilded" or something? Or that "gilded" can only refer to literal gold coins and not any of the many, many metaphors for being a prisoner to destiny that are swirling around Aventurine?

"To gild" means to "cover thinly with gold." It doesn't mean to create wealth, to imply actual money, or even to relate at all to the concept of "golden handcuffs" (which is what people seem to be mistaking it for). Gilding could more accurately be described as a process of taking something cheap--like low-quality nickel--and plating it over with the thinnest layer of gold, to try to make the item seem much better than it is. Gilding something is often like dressing up a pig--you can make it look pretty on the outside, but on the inside, it's still a pig.

Just the thinnest layer of gold over a darker interior...

There's nothing about "gilded imprisonment" that automatically has anything to do with the IPC, unless you're already coming in with the impression that Aventurine is a prisoner of the IPC. If you start with a preconceived notion of what "imprisonment" means for Aventurine, then and only then do we make the jump to "Oh, this must be in reference to the IPC." Take that preconception out and there's zero connection lol.

Even the Chinese name of the warp, "囚石铸金" (lit. "Prison stones cast [in] gold") and other languages' translation of the banner name (like German's "Stein zu Gold," lit. "Stone to gold") imply that the most important element of the banner is "coating over something bad with something good"--i.e., turning prison walls into gold, turning the "stone" of his dark past into something shining. (This actually makes a nice irony in several languages, because he turned the rocky desert of his homeland and the stone walls of a prison into gold by... earning a Cornerstone and becoming a "Stoneheart"--or, that is, he himself is a "worthless" stone that has been thinly coated over in shiny wealth.)

But personally, if we really want to go by the English name of the banner, I would argue that it is much more likely Aventurine's banner name is a reference to his own troubled relationship with the concept of "blessings" and "destiny" than anything to do with the IPC.

From the beginning of his life, Kakavasha was told he was "blessed" and that he was the "chosen one." He was favored by a goddess, born on the day of her rebirth, and told that he will be the savior of his people. So, we can literally say he's the Avgin "golden child," which is further supported by the constant connection between Aventurine and gold colors (his golden-haired appearance, his mother's gold accessories with him since his birth, the word "Avgin" itself even meaning [golden] honey). So as the "golden child," we have this perception that his power of incredible luck, gifted to him by a goddess, must be a blessing, a good thing.

And yet that's not how it plays out for him. What his family tells him is a blessing ends up functioning more like a curse for Aventurine, when it becomes clear he can't use that luck of his to protect those who mean the most to him. He might be the goddess's golden child, the chosen one--but no one else is chosen with him. He's a failed savior, an incapable hero, and there is no escape from the destiny which has been decided for him.

There's a reason his lightcone is called "Inherently Unjust Destiny." His own destiny, decided when he was born favored of an aeon, makes him a prisoner of the suffering that he can survive but never avoid.

We see how much this haunts him constantly throughout his experiences in 2.1...

To me, I would interpret the English banner name "Gilded Imprisonment" as much more related to how Aventurine's blessing, which is supposed to make him the favored, lucky, golden child, is actually nothing more than a thin veneer over the terrible destiny that binds him, continually costing him everything and everyone he loves.

On to the other point entirely, I think people might also really be misinterpreting that sentence about "escaping Jade's clutches." Again, I think this relates a lot to the fact that people are coming into Aventurine's character with this preconception of him as a prisoner to the IPC, so they're interpreting this sentence in the most literal way possible ("I want to get away from you"), but that is actually not what Aventurine is saying at all there.

Jade's rank in the IPC is P46. If Aventurine is promoted to P46, he would no longer be her subordinate. Therefore, when he says "I don't want to bet anything just to escape your clutches," this is actually a (vaguely snarky, to be sure) compliment. Aventurine is saying "I don't want you to think I'm engaging in a bet [that I know I'll win] because I dislike working for you."

It's supposed to be flattery. He's saying "Don't think I'm trying to get away from you, oh great Madam Jade. I wouldn't try to make any bets just to get out of being your underling."

I think it's got a healthy dose of sarcasm to be sure, because Jade herself would have trained Aventurine to snatch every chance to get ahead. So now he's in the hilarious situation of having to balance the expected respect to his mentor ("Of course I would never want to leave you! You're the best boss!") with the fact that his own mentor wants him to be cut-throat at all costs lolol.

It's irony-laced flattery for sure.

That's why his next line is "Well, if it's just a friendly bet though, then sure, I'll engage." He's saying "So long as you know I'm not betting because I dislike working for you, sure, I'll play along." Because he knows that's what he's supposed to do--as a Stoneheart, he should be seizing every opportunity to advance. He virtually has to make this bet that he'll be promoted just to demonstrate the desirous personality that Jade would be expecting.

And honestly, it's supposed to be a callback to their first scene together too. They literally add that to text so people can't miss it. Kakavasha came to Jade as a person "hungry" to rise up the chain, to change his circumstances. He's making the same bet again to suggest to her that he hasn't changed in the slightest even after his experiences in Penacony.

(Now, why he's trying to act like he hasn't changed in front of Jade is another story, and "Aventurine is out to destroy the IPC" conspiracy theorists can run wild with this one for sure.)

But yeah. That line... really does not mean what people think it means, apparently.

Anddddd I'll get to the character foils in another post; this was already long enough as-is! 😂

[illamda-spaminations]

I find it so interesting that during the Twisted Hearts OP, when the song goes "I feel you sins all the time", they showed Mycroft and Albert respectively. While Mycroft does not understand/know everything that's going on with the LOC and Moriarty & co., I do believe he understands how Albert feels, especially about taking the punishment on himself.

For example: This scene in MTP, post-Final problem

He understands because he knows Albert and, more importantly, he has been there, it's just the circumstances and the consequences of the decision is very different. The reason he dedicated his life to working for the government was because of his father's involvement in the French Revolution. He wanted to repent on behalf of him, so he decided to take on that punishment, protecting Sherlock in the process. Albert does something very similar, he takes on the atonement so Louis doesn't have to. He believes Louis deserves so much more than punishment; he deserves a fulfilling life, a happy one, or at least as happy as it can get, and above all, the one who should reap the crops William sown [I should REALLY make a separate post on Louis ye gods-].

Mycroft could've let the Moriarty brothers do what they saw fit, as long as he was spared from the brutality, but instead he threatens them. If they don't put the country's future and prosperity first, Mycroft will personally "annihilate" him [his words not mine].

This scene really goes to show that Mycroft is genuinely dedicated to the Empire, he is very intent to serve for the country's future, but it's not blind loyalty, it's him being bound to it, it's the least he could do to make up for his father's sins [sins of the father am I right?] and it's the same for Albert. He and Mycroft love their younger brothers, to the point of sacrificing themselves in order to protect them, to make sure they live as they please, free of guilt. The difference is that Mycroft changed over time, he started to loosen up. The first time we see him outside of his office for non-work related matters was with meeting everyone in the dinner party. And for Albert? Time stopped turning entirely. The moment he entered the tower was the moment he couldn't go back. It was him, his thoughts and the messages from Mycroft to distract him. The only person who could convince him to come out of his prison and start living was William; because William's actions, sins, guilt and will to die was the very reason why Albert chose his punishment.

In comparison, Mycroft's self enforced punishment was lighter to Albert's. While Mycroft has to deal with constant stress [this is not really canon, but considering that he's referred to as the government, yeaaaaa I think he's gonna be stressed af] and grief, Albert had to deal with a spiral towards insanity, grief, religious guilt for the Moriarty plan and his compulsive thoughts. And he's sure as hell isn't going to stand on his own for a while after that.

Another thing [this time it's actually related to my point :0] is exactly when the two show up. Mycroft shows up around the lyrics "I feel your sins" while albert shows up around "all the time", which further proves my point. Since Sherlock and William showing up around the point of "I can't feel your love but I can give you love" basically describes Sherlock's goal of saving William and their relationship in a nutshell.

"I don't know if you see me as a friend but I'll see you like that anyway, and save you, just like what I would do to another friend."

What's not to say the same can be true to Mycroft and Albert?

"I can never truly understand what you are going through, but I will always understand how you feel."