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themaclean · 5 months

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We Don't Have To Be Friends (1/2) Characters: Cooper Howard/Lucy MacLean. Summary: 3,507 words, Post Season One -- character study that was meant to be PWP, but then ended up being entirely plot. Part two will be smut or I will krill myself. Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't see in the show. ( Ao3 ) > Part One | Part Two | Part Three <

Cooper never thought much about Hollywood anymore.

He had no reason to and no time either— but the thoughts bubbled up when he saw how the gold thread of his shirt dulled and familiar street signs melted into slack arches. Sometimes, he’d catch sight of a tattered newspaper with names he recognized or faces of people long since dead.

But nothing made him think of Hollywood the way Lucy did.

It hit him one afternoon with a nasty churn, that flash of the old world that locked his knees mid-stride. It was pathetic, really, when he thought about it now.

It was the flash of Lucy's Vault-Tec-sponsored smile over her shoulder, her thin hand with a necrotized finger pointing ahead of them at some landmark she’d heard of. With her head turned at just the right angle, and the sun was low as it caught the edges of her cheeks and lashes…

She had the sort of face girls in the movies had: clear skin, big eyes, and neat hair. Pretty — beautiful, actually, but not as a matter of compliment. Beautiful in the way she’d make a good price at any given market if he was inclined to sell her. Beautiful in the way people loved to exploit.

That’s the lifeblood of Hollywood—that churning mass of young talent desperate to prove they had what it takes. They’d sweet talk whoever they needed to, go to the parties, and chat his ear off about how amazing he’d been in whatever movie had come out lately, about the sponsorships they’d been offered, and about the dresses they got sent. They’d slip him their number and hold his bicep too long like they’d been taught to by managers and mothers alike.

Dozens of pretty women rushed to audition for the role of arm candy. They’d audition to play the mayor's daughter, the farmer's daughter, or so-and-so’s daughter. They’d always been the damsel. Then, whatever cowboy he’d been hired to play would toss the pretty woman onto the back of Sugarfoot and ride off into the sunset. The sort of girl who'd be gone by the next movie or end up married to a director, so she'd quit acting.

And, much like all the girls in Hollywood Cooper had spent time with, Lucy had changed. She had the same optimism, but it’d dulled; her marketable face now held tired, empty eyes. It was like she finally caught onto the world’s current: no sunset and no next movie.

Cooper couldn’t fault her. It's a strange journey to discover what to do to survive.

“Hey Cooper — is that it?” Lucy asked, repeating herself. The sprawl of buildings ahead was dotted with torches and candles.

Cooper nodded, his hand firm on Dogmeat’s collar.

A short strip of buildings stood out against the expanse of desert and dry shrubs. Each building leaned towards another, with sheet metal fastened with unskilled welding. Several turrets puttered away, seeking whatever wasn’t humanoid enough. Strips of fabric and tin cans garlands peppered the buildings' front. The smaller buildings on either side were your standard fare: a repair shop, a medic, a trader with a little diner area.

But the one Cooper was after stood out for its neon sign—Hell’s Oasis.

Hell’s Oasis served its purpose—it was a decent place to get information, and the people minded their business. They weren’t too bothered with ghouls or mutants as long as you had caps. The place often served as a meeting ground for bounty hunters and their contractors. It was also one of the more upscale places, as they wouldn’t harvest organs unless you died of natural causes.

And, if you couldn’t fight or forage for survival, you could fuck for it.

(Not that Cooper ever wasted caps on the whores who took residence within Hell’s Oasis. He’d sooner pay people to fuck off than spend the night with him.)

Cooper grabbed Lucy by the nape of her neck to yank her close and keep her firmly by his side. Most people he brought here, he left here — call it a force of habit to handle her so roughly.

“I can walk, y’know,” Lucy hissed.

“Stick close,” Cooper clicked his tongue at her, and a slight hiss followed. His grip flexed to further the message that she’d do well to follow his guidance.

They made their way through the hotel lobby, the moldy carpet slick against the floor with dirt and grease from the world outside. A few people chattered away in the attached bar, laughing at jokes Cooper couldn’t make out. Casino chips clattered on the table as they played made-up card games.

Long dead plants clung to arid dirt, the sticks of old ferns wilting against one another. Metal crates were lashed together in each corner of the alcove where the front desk sat, providing a makeshift cage between the staff and the patrons. Several girls rushed past Cooper and Lucy, jeering and cackling as they approached the bar. They were clad in lacy nightgowns. He couldn’t tell if they knew they were lingerie rather than clothes or if they’d even care.

“It’s so lively here,” Lucy said, a pang of something in her face.

“It happens in pockets,” Cooper said with a shrug of his shoulder. Little uh… spots of life.”

“Must be why they call it an oasis.”

Cooper rolled his eyes as they reached the front desk. Magazines sat in thick stacks with information about local tours in the area and a guide to the national parks. An abandoned handbag was tucked against the desk, which Lucy eyed with curiosity.

Cooper slapped the front desk bell a few times, a gargling growl low in his throat.

They needed this break after a couple of weeks on the road together. Water was getting sparse, and he wanted to be ready to meet with whoever the fuck Hank had run off to. And in such an open desert, there’s no sense traveling at night, and all manner of dumb shit came up along the way.

It was always something. People needed help or some dumb cunt trying to pick a fight, resupplies, rest… He didn’t like helping people much, but Lucy argued with him whenever they tried to go on without at least trying. And whether the people lived or died, at least they tried. That was her argument.

But Lucy listened to him a little more now, and he was as patient as he could be with her.

Cooper rang the bell again. He wanted a room, and the chattering laughter in the bar was only making his aches worse.

Priscilla appeared from behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain. Her hairline was hidden beneath a thick headscarf with puffy blond curls bouncing beneath it. The last time he’d been here, her hair had begun to rot out of her skull. He guessed it’d only gotten worse. She’s still pretty, mirroring that old-world red lip with pin curls.

“Oh my God, is that you, Coop? I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Priscilla said in a slow, low voice. She had a rasp to it, always had, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the radiation or a smoking habit.

“Was underground,” Cooper said with a lazy smile. He wouldn’t mention that he’d been underground in a literal sense, trapped in a coffin.

“Well, it’s nice for you to come to see us and…” Priscilla’s gaze slid to Lucy, that usual surprise swelling up at the sight of a genuine Vault Dweller. They weren’t hard to spot. “Ah, you turning her in for a bounty?”

Lucy’s head snapped towards him, a mixture of shock and disgust.

“No,” Cooper shook his head, his grip firm on Lucy’s neck to turn her head away from him. His fingers tensed before they dropped away altogether, brushing across Lucy’s shoulder. “Tag-along. Helpin’ her uh…” He picked through the words that came to mind, cautious not to share too much. “Adjust to the surface.”

Priscilla’s jaw squared as she stared Lucy down.

“We’re just lookin’ for a room, some food,” Cooper said before she could pry further. “Usual fare.”

“Please,” Lucy said, like Cooper had forgotten, and it was important to say. “The usual fare, please.”

“She speaks,” Priscilla said in a purr.

Cooper had to give Lucy credit. She’d stayed quiet much longer than he’d expected.

“Oh, we’ll also need water,” Lucy said, looking up at Cooper. “For cleaning and drinking. I’m not sure if you separate it that way or if you reuse it unless you have showers.”

Priscilla narrowed her eyes. “Running water? We can get you a bucket of water, sweetness. That alright with you?”

“It works great for me. Big fan of buckets. They’re the backbone of agriculture and cleaning, really, if you think about it…” Lucy agreed, her smile as bright as the neon sign by the front window.

Priscilla looked at Cooper and then at Lucy, repeating the loop before she sauntered behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain strung up with zip ties. The distant hum of a generator underscored the silence as Cooper picked over the board of caricatures. Plenty of people were banned from the premises or with a bounty on their heads — no one stood out on the board, at least.

“She was giving us a weird look,” Lucy leaned closer to Cooper, feigning a swipe of her hand through her hair. The floor creaked as she shifted her weight closer to him. “Is it the bucket thing? I panicked.”

Cooper scoffed from the back of his throat.

“It is safe here, right? You trust her?”

“It’s safe,” Cooper bared his teeth at Lucy, begging her to return to the docile silence she’d thrived in.

“Then why — ”

Cooper hissed for her to shh through clenched teeth.

Priscilla pushed past the curtain. She gripped a little blue card with faded gold edges. A key with a golden ball chain was attached to the edge. It felt strangely archaic to be so formal about lodgings, but it was why he liked this place.

“I guess it makes sense,” Priscilla said as she slid the key to Cooper. She nodded to Lucy. “You wanting a girl who’s more… Old—world flavor. It reminds you of the golden years, hm?”

“Six, right?” Cooper ignored her question, his gaze fixed to the card.

“Six,” Priscilla repeated, her gaze on Lucy.

Cooper tossed a few caps onto the front desk, the clatter of metal their own punctuation. He notched his head towards the stairs, and Dogmeat and Lucy followed in stride. He was eager for the simple things — water, food, and a moment to let his bags rest.

“Wanting a girl…” Lucy smiled, mumbling more of Priscilla’s words under her breath.

After several flights of stairs and a few hours, Cooper felt all the better. He’d eaten his fill and enjoyed the peace of an enclosed room. He didn’t often allow himself such a luxury, as being in a settlement put a target on your back for any larger groups. But it’d been two weeks since they’d had proper rest out of the elements.

Tracking Hank wasn’t easy, either. That suit meant he could skip over all the pocked landscape and roaming threats. What would take him an hour to travel by air was a day for them sometimes, a fact that spurred Cooper on. But they couldn’t rush, as rushing would only get them killed.

One wrong step and you were deathclaw chow.

“God, more, please!”

And there went the silence. Cooper’s eye twitched; his lipless mouth sneered at the screeches.

Whoever had taken up residence in room five was making the most of their money — an hour straight of screams and moans, an hour straight of Lucy pretending to read. She’d picked up a holotape at the last outpost they’d stopped at; something about a sequel she’d always wanted to continue reading.

By the second hour, it wasn’t so much that room five stopped fucking. But they at least got a lot quieter about it. The occasional shriek or moan rattled through the air vents, but it was far and few between.

Lucy lay across the double bed, her boots discarded beside the door. Her vault suit hung from the defunct radiator. Her washing was all done, and she’d freshened up, the usual Lucy shit. She’d helped herself to the water and changed into some pajama set she’d pilfered from a house a few days back.

“I think it’s nice,” Lucy said into the open air of the hotel room.

Cooper looked up from his shotgun, teeth bared like he was trying to smile. “The quiet?”

“No,” Lucy smiled at the wall between them and room five. “That people can find love, even now.”

Cooper couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. The cackles shook from low in his lungs and caught him so off-guard he hacked up some foul muck into his palm. He hissed through a wheezed breath as he fumbled with his RadAway puffer.

“I mean it! It’s not funny!”

“That ain’t love, Vaultie,” Cooper coughed out, his eyes narrowed as drool and tears mingled on his cheeks. He wiped his face, fine skin catching against the scarred, leathery mess. “That…” He pointed to the wall. “S’probably a whore and her John making the most of the caps.”

Lucy’s eyes darted as she picked apart what he’d said. “John..?”

“John’s a term for uh…” Cooper’s jaw strained against a smile, though it was far too cruel to be kind. “A guy who pays for sex.”

“Ah, wasteland slang,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it made sense she hadn’t caught on immediately.

“Old world slang,” Cooper corrected.

Lucy looked around the hotel room anew, like she’d finally caught on to what this place really was. She scooted to the edge of the bed, to sit with her legs angled towards him. “That woman at the front desk said you’d want a girl who’s old world — she thought I was a prostitute. ”

“Maybe.”

Lucy crossed her arms as if she had more to say on the matter. But then she remained quiet, uncharacteristically so.

“S’waste of caps.”

“Hiring me to have sex with you? Actually, I know all about sexual gratification, so I think it’d be a great use of money — caps.”

Cooper stared Lucy down as if he couldn’t parse what she’d just said. “Paying anyone money to fuck you is a waste.” Cooper tongued his lips apart. “Bullets. Meds. There’s shit worth paying for. Sex is — ”

“Important.”

“Sex ain’t worth much.”

“To you, maybe,” Lucy frowned. “It’s an act of love and intimacy, and… It’s how humanity continues, and it’s — fun if done well.”

“You wanna waste your caps on some cock?” Cooper snapped, his hand flapping at the door. “Be my guest.”

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t want to, but I’m saying that I… I think killing people is probably worse than sleeping with people for caps. If it’s to survive, I think it makes sense. Morally speaking.”

“Don’t,” Cooper snarled.

Cooper didn’t like how Lucy spoke to him most days, but this was a new, worse permutation. Her Vault-addled morality was sickening enough on its own, as she embodied whatever bullshit had been drip-fed to her by the company who’d bought her vault. Not that he was without sin, given the shit he’d done to survive this long.

But sex and love and all that shit was not front of mind. He needed to find his family and to know what happened to them. He didn’t need a two-cap blowjob from a stranger in the dim light of some bar. Though, in all honesty, his drug habit mixed with the amount of alcohol he’d drowned himself in, some nights got hazy.

There’s that animalistic, self-destructive part of him that won on his worst nights. The same part of him that kept him alive, the same part that let him do all the miserable shit he needed to do to survive.

But it’s certainly never been love. Not since Barb.

Never again, he’d wager.

"I had sex once," Lucy said this like it was a point of pride, now on her feet. She idled beside the bed, her gaze settled onto the empty space she’d been lying. "With my husband, but…" Her face twisted with this delayed amusement. She turned towards him, closing the gap between them.

Lucy’s eyes remained unfocused as she stared at the marked table between them, where his shotgun lay across a dirty cloth. "Does that make us both widows..? You said you have a family, right? So, you were probably married and had at least one kid. Not trying to presume, so tell me if I’m wrong, but… You said that in the observatory. That’s what you’re after."

Cooper parted his lips, a nasty tilt to his hairless brow.

Lucy gave a tight smile. "I was married. Only for a few hours, but… It was an arranged marriage, I didn’t meet him until the wedding. It turned out he was a raider from the surface posing as my match from Vault 32 and…" At this point, Lucy caught herself. “I feel for you, if you lost someone. That’s all.”

“You ain’t a widow.”

“Technically — ”

Cooper stood up, unable to stay seated. “You say you’re a widow like it’s a fact outta some book. The shit you went through — you’re an experiment gone wrong, not a damn widow,” Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy’s face twitched at his words as if she struggled to keep her smile. “Well, guess what? We’re all an experiment gone wrong, whether you’re in a vault or not.”

Cooper’s eyes twitched, narrowing in the dark of their hotel room. Room five was quiet, which made this moment all the worse. He didn’t like how she spoke about him, as if she knew what was happening in his mind. He wasn’t some wounded man looking for sympathy.

He wasn’t anything.

��Go back to your holotapes,” Cooper said with a jut of his chin. “You’ve been up here a few weeks, acting like you know how it is.”

“Well, I know we’ve all been screwed over by people hundreds of years ago, and I’m sorry if I’m not as beaten down by it as you, but — I’m just trying to share things with you, to…” Lucy struggled through her words, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “We don’t have to be friends, but we have to be — something.”

The couple in room five screeched. Cooper tensed out of habit but relaxed again when he reasoned what the noise was. It didn’t solve the fierce look on Lucy’s face as she stared him down, her fists clenched by her pajama-clad thighs.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Lucy said, shaking her damp hair out of her face. She stood idle by the table as if she had just realized she had stepped towards him in their argument. There was a bird-like shake to her chest, her heart and lungs quick beneath bone.

It was moments like this that made his nature crystalline to him — that thin line she couldn’t perceive of how easy it’d be to string her up by the ankles and bleed her dry. Of how easy it’d be to slide into that ache for warm flesh between his teeth and blood down his throat.

Ghouls aren’t welcome in most settlements for a reason, and Lucy is too damn optimistic to learn that lesson.

Cooper tongued the inside of his cheek, and his teeth gnashed at the frayed edge of his lip. “We have to be something, huh?”

Lucy’s brow twitched, and her jaw strained as she tried to stand taller. She nodded as something like hope softened her stern expression.

It wasn’t hard to close the gap. It was even easier to grab that ponytail she always wore and yank her head close, fist tight in her hair as he brought her close. Her hand scrabbled against the table, and nails dug into the wood as their eyes met.

“Don’t you ever talk about my family again,” Cooper said, his voice level. “We clear?”

Lucy’s breathing redoubled, but she nodded. Her nostrils flared as he let her go with a firm shove. There was a real sense of satisfaction as he felt her perception of him shift as if she’d forgotten she was dealing with a monster rather than a man. As if the rotted skin and exposed tensions, or the gaping hole where his nose had once been, weren’t enough warning.

Pretty girls in Hollywood were overlooked as much in his time — all in the name of survival in a race that no one really won. You took your part and played it until the work dried up. Then, you prayed for sponsorships, deals, and other things to spare you from the real world.

He watched it with co-stars, time and again. It wasn’t much different now, just less rhinestones and more rads.

#cooper howard #lucy maclean #fallout spoilers #fallout #vaultghoul #cooper x lucy #my writing

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year

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MASTERLIST

Summary: You don’t know how you got to the point where Jace was just… living there with you… you liked it though

Warnings: Cursing, cheating, adultery, talks about body shaming, therapy, misogynistic undertones (“man of the house” and whatnot), Harwin is not a good person on this… and Jace isn’t either, implied tampering with birth control, spy cameras, a bit creepiness, alcohol consumption, reader is a bit drunk in some parts, masturbation, fingering, inappropriate relationship, smut, oral sex (m receiving)

Wordcount: 4.9k

Notes: OH MY! things are heating up, I really don’t want to drag this along hehe, I want to just get to the good part

He knew that he had to bid his time, that he needed to draw you in, but as he sneaked a peek at you, he got so tempted…

He had picked a movie called “the boy next door”, in which a separated woman who is going through a divorce, moves to a small town where she starts an affair… with the 20 year old boy next door. You looked away at the very hot sex scene between them

The mom was interpreted by a famous actress, a singer, a hot, mature one.

You were acting so coy, looking away, Jace got painfully hard just by looking at you. You had “made yourself comfortable”, wearing some black cotton leggings that did nothing to hide your delicious thighs and ass. and that sweater too big for you

Now you were curled up on the couch, nursing your beer.

Jace could bet you thought it was hot, that’s why you were so embarrassed, the best part is that he was older than the guy in the movie, and you were way younger than her…

Jace always thought it was creepy how there was a huge age gap between you and Harwin, and a much lesser one between you and him.

“You didn’t like the movie?”, he asked, making you jump. You laughed coyly

“It’s good”, you muttered, nodding and taking a sip, “a bit kinky Jace”

“Oh right”, he mocked, you were twenty nine, a week shy of turning thirty, you were not an old woman, you were barely getting started

Why couldn’t you see that?”

He put on his best puppy dog face

“Yeah, it’s awkward”, he muttered, turning towards you, “can I ask you a question?”, he asked, when the actress was whining about her cheating ex-husband

“Yeah”, you said, smiling encouragingly at him

“What happened between you and Harwin?”, Harwin, not dad, he couldn’t have you connecting those dots tonight

You took a sip of your second beer

“It’s complicated Jacey”, you said softly

“I’m sure you can work it out”, he said dismissively, he was being risky, but he needed to know, he needed to know by your own words what happened, and then he could exploit it

“I’m not so sure”, you whispered, taking yet another sip of beer, Jace had you exactly where he wanted you

“Why did you kick him out?”, he asked then

“Jace..”

“What did he do that was so bad?”, he said innocently

“Well. we drew apart last year and… well, he was feeling lonely I guess, I was too occupied with Aerea…”, Jace blood was boiling, he couldn’t believe was he was hearing, you were trying to soften the fact that the bastard had cheated on you, only for him to hear, his son

Gods you were so fucking good

So nice

He couldn’t wait to keep you full of his cock, because if you kept that up, you are never going to refuse him once he starts fucking you

“He felt lonely?”, he couldn’t keep the ruse up for long, “what does that mean?”

“Jace I really don’t want to speak ill of your father”, you whispered

“He cheated on you, didn’t he?”, he asked, and to you, he was appearing completely heart broken, like he just learned his hero had done something terrible

Jace should be an actor

“Well…”

“What a cunt!”, he cursed

“Jace, he is your father!”, you chided, “he cheated on me, not you”

“How could he?”, he continued, “how could he cheat on you? you are beautiful, smart, funny, hot as hell”

“Jace!”, you said, embarrassed that he would call you that… hot as hell. what a joke

“Why would he?”, he asked again, “he must be insane!”

“Well Jace, my pregnancy wasn’t easy, and women bodies change when they… get pregnant, and after they give birth”, you whispered, remember sadly how Harwin loved to make the baby, but not as much once she was about to be born or already here, when your body started changing

“You can’t be serious!”, he snapped, “you are blaming yourself?”

“I shouldn’t have told you”, you said, feeling guilty

“I’m glad you did”, he made his play, he placed a hand on your shoulder, and your raised your gaze again to look at him wide-eyed, “he has never stopped disappointing me, this doesn’t surprise me”, he admitted, “but I’m glad I can be here for you”

“Thank you”, you said, smiling softly, he caressed your arm

“He doesn’t deserve you, or Aerea”, he whispered, “come here”, he was all in, you smiled and happily scooched over to his open arms, to hug him

A seemingly kind, warm gesture

“I’m glad you are here Jacey”, you whispered

“I’m glad to be here to keep you company”, he said against the top of your head, “you deserve better, a man that cares for you, desires you, takes care of your daughter…”

“Thank you Jacey, and I have to say, you and your brothers will always be welcomed in my home”

. . .

Tonight had gone way better than he expected

Through the camera in your room, Jace could you tossing and turning in your bed, it was still hot outside, you were sleeping in these flimsy cotton shorts, and you accommodated yourself placing the sheet between your thighs, you bend your back, popping out your ass

Fuck

He was already hard

He took out his cock, already weeping, and he started squeezing it and stroking

You were right there

Just two rooms over

He could go, open the door, rip your shorts off your body, and fuck you

He know you’d love it, you were so deprived of physical love and affection

He needed to exploit it

He touched himself at the visual of the two of you, when you hugged him over the couch, he imagined you raised your head then, looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours, he imagined grabbing your jaw and devouring you, kissing you hungrily.

He thought about pushing down on your back and him jumping over you, ready to eat you whole, ripped off your clothes and go at it right on the living room

He imagined how tight you would feel around him, as he snapped his hips into you over and over, oh! the sounds you could make, he had to cover your mouth with his big hand, to not wake Aerea

As he looked down at your desperate face, when he finally finds that spot inside you, your eyes would roll off to the back of your head, as he’d feel his hand wet with your saliva, your mouth open in desperation against his palm

Those tits of your, finally released from his prison, would be moving to the rhythm of his thrusts

His big, fat cock in and out of you as he fucked you as deeply as he could go

But once he started he would stop there, he would release you, taking himself out of you with no warning, making you whine and cling onto him, begging him for more

He knows he had you then

So he would grab you roughly, he wanted to see your ass now, he would turn you around so you’d be in all fours for him, and he would fuck you again, your round ass there in his grasp… your skin jiggling when the thrusted into you

Fuck

It was embarrassing to admit how fast he cummed, knowing you were just a few feet away from him

. . .

Soon another week ran past, Jace was coming and going from your house to his, now he couldn’t point blankly stay in your place, he had to return to his own home

But he came back… regularly

It was true, at least, the business part. He had invested most of his savings on this enterprise with his friend Cregan Stark, but it was just so perfect to use it for his own benefit

Apparently your interview had also played out, because now you were working, Aerea was in daycare, and Jace was currently on a videochat with his friend and business partner

“Well Jace, normally I would be against my best friend baby trapping some woman but phweet”, he whistled, “she is delicious”

“Isn’t she?”, he purred, he felt so proud of himself, he had sent his friend pictures, boasting about you like you were already his, and you somehow were, in his mind, “She is so fucking naive, and sweet, gods!”

Cregan laughed through the computer

“Damn, and how do you plan on getting her though”

“Well, the devil’s in the details, I already have access to her place, her daughter…”

“You half sister”, mocked Cregan

“Already calls me dada, and adores me, I’ve already made myself indispensable at her home”, he continued, “she is totally dependant on me to do all the “toughest” things around the house”

“Good good”, he purred, “so after it is all done.. what are you going to do?”

“Well, our company is going to be up there isn’t it?”

“You plan on moving her here?”

“When we start our relationship…”

“When you knock her up you mean..”

“I don't think she would want to stay here near all the people that know us so…”

“Good”, his friend seemed pleased

He heard you coming in the house then, and Jace got jumpy

“She is here, gotta go..”, he whispered

“Well Jace, good meeting, I’ll send you the details of the first shipment”

“And I will have those sheets for later…”, he said, continuing their conversation from before

“Great”, you waved at him from behind the counter, and he smiled back, Aerea came rushing in

“DADDY!”, She greeted, and Jace couldn’t be happier, he grabbed her and showed her to Cregan through the camera

“Hi”, greeted Aerea

“And who’s that?”, teased Cregan, “Hello sweetie, she is a sweet little thing, looks like you Jace!”, he said loudly, winking at his friend, Cregan chuckled as you looked surprised

“Doesn’t she?”, he teased

The call was ended short after, and you looked a bit conflicted, Jace could tell

You didn’t like the fact that Aerea called Jace “daddy”, it wasn’t healthy, your child needed to know, to remember her father, or else she was going to get all confused

Luckily, Harwin had agreed to take her, the weeks he had his kids, so he could get help from Jace and Luke, and it was easier on him…

Perhaps he wanted some weeks off to see her… or others

Not that you’d care

You start putting some things you bought after work around, and you smiled fakely at Jace as he approached

“Need help with something?”, he asked, he had noticed you ahd bought a couple of bottles of wine, you were going to have the first week to yourself since… forever and a hot bubbly bath with a cup of whine and some strawberries with chocolate sounds like the remedy to all your problems

“It’s fine Jace”, you said softly, “Harwin is picking you both any minute now”, you made him remember

He looked somewhat disappointed

“Right, this is his first week with Aerea, right?”

“Right”, you smiled

“Actually, I have a bunch of work to do, do you mind if I stay the night again?”, he asked

He was risking it, he thought

You could use some time alone, you thought yourself

But those big eyes of him, made you smile

You had all week

“Sure”, you said, faking another smile, he smiled back at you sincerely.

He didn’t like that fake smile on your face

He could tell he had overplayed it

“I’m gonna keep working…”

“Sure”, you said, you then turned to Aerea, “Let’s get you packed sweety, wanna go to papa?”

The little girl’s face lit up

“PAPA!”, she exclaimed, reaching for you, as you were going to take her to him

“Let’s go darling”, you whispered sweetly

You felt Jace’s gaze as you walked down the hallway

He growled, frustrating, and he realized he had to change his strategy

He sat back in front of the computer and he finished his work, it didn't take him more than twenty minutes

When you appeared back, you had a large bag in your hands, and Jace changed his plan right then, he put wavy his computer and gave you a smile

“Turns out I didn't have much work as I thought”, he said, “I’m done, and I should go to my dad’s”, you smiled then sincerely

“That is great,I know that I shouldn’t had said what i said, he is still your father and he loves you and cares for you deeply”, he smiled and nodded

You heard a honk outside

“There’s papa!”, Aerea applauded

Harwin might be a shitty husband, but he was not a shitty dad, Jace had to admit, replacing him was not going to be as easy as he thought

You were nervous as you led your little girl outside, it was going to be the first time you saw Harwin since you split

He walked to the door with a soft smile

“Hey darling”, he said, looking straight at you, and then he turned to Aerea, who jumped into his arms

“Hey”

Jace thought he was going to be happy to witness this debacle, but it wasn’t weird or angry, you were actually smiling tenderly at the fucker

“Jace, you are here”, muttered Harwinm, surprised, “thanks for keeping my girls company”

That was a low blow for everyone there

You stomach sank, but Jace got so angry

He didn’t deserve calling you his

“We should go”, muttered Jace, grabbing Aerea, and you thanked him for it, to distract her, or else she was going to start crying when she realizes you are not going

You waved him goodbye as they got in the car and drove away

You loved your daughter with all your heart, but Gods if you needed a break from all of this

You had bought like a ton of chocolate, wine, strawberries, your favorite pasta dish, you even went as far as to go to the grocery store and buy yourself those “spa” bundles, that include a candle, a very bubbly soap, a nice soft loofah, and body cream for later

So you did exactly that

You got comfortable, got rid of your clothes, until you were in your underwear (a lacey little thing you had bought to entice Harwin), and you put a soft robe on top, just to cover your modesty.

You cooked your pasta, with your favorite sauce, you poured some wine in your cup, as you watched from the kitchen your favorite show. And when it was ready.

You ate it with pleasure, congratulated yourself because it was as good as you wanted it, so delicious, very creamy.

You poured more wine

then you watched some more twenty minutes episodes of your favorite soap opera and THEN… you melted the chocolate, cutted some strawberries, and with a bottle and cup in hand, you went to treat yourself to the bathroom

You filled the tub, you put in the entirety of that bubble bath and you sipped your wine happily until it was full, then you undressed, dropping pieces of clothing anywhere.

Despite what happened with Harwin in the last years, today, you were feeling particularly sexy, perhaps you were ovulating or something.

You undressed like the sexiest man alive was there, watching your every move, and then, you got into the tub, moaning to express the wonderful time you were having, the hot water instantly relaxing your tired body

Oh shit you forgot the music

No matter.

The warm up for the tub had been so nice that, now you were horny, very horny.

Your “sexy man” was watching, so you decided to give him a show, you dipped your finger in the chocolate and brought it to your mouth

Immediately the delicious taste invaded you

Your other hand went to one of your breasts, your nipples already hard. Oh fuck you were going to enjoy this

It had been a while since you felt like this…

Since your baby-making months…

You placed a chocolate covered strawberry in your mouth, and moaned at the taste, and at the feeling of your fingers pinching your nipple softly

You were so horny, your hand traveled down the waters over your belly and you were ready to really treat yourself

And then, just about when thing were starting to get truly fucking good

You felt the front door opening loudly. You heard a familiar voice calling your name

SHIT! JACE!

You gasped, as it was just down the hall, and the door to the bathroom was wide open, and your underwear was in the hallway, and by the soft candlelights coming from the bathroom…

“WAIT!”, you pleaded, “I’m in the bathroom!”

“I’m sorry!”, he lamented, you heard him getting closer

“Jace, don’t come in please”, you whined, your hand until over your pubis, gods, this was going to be so good.

And yet…

The need didn’t go away being almost being caught

“You good?”, asked Jace, just by the door

“Too good Jacey”, you said, not being able to hide how disappointed you were

“I’m sorry I interrupted you”, he sounded entertained, he had clearly saw your underwear there

“Did something happen?”, you asked

“Harwin and I had a huge fight, I’m so sorry I… should have called you, or gone home, but… the only place I deemed safe is… well… here”

You sighed, loudly

“Jace you caught me in a bad time”, you admitted

Oh he knew exactly what you were doing, and he timed it just perfectly

As you looked at the space of the open door, your breathing quickened

Jace was right there

And that didn't turn you off, it did the opposite

You almost got caught masturbating on the bath by the hottest twenty one year old you had ever seen

But you shouldn’t, you whined to yourself

And as you looked down at the empty bottle of wine… at everything set up for your pleasure…

But you wanted the real thing

So so badly

You didn't realize though, that your “mental” whine, sounded for a real, a moan that got Jace’s blood rushing to his cock, and that made him take a single step, to watch you -in real life and not on his cellphone-, in that tub

You were looking at him wide eyed, as he had your panties on his fist, the ones from the hallway

“Jace?”, you called, you look like a deer in headlights, you didn’t hide, you didn't shrieked and demanded him to leave

You just looked at him, with desire on those beautiful eyes of yours.

Jace growled at the sight of your soapy breasts, peaking over the water, of if he could just take a picture of this moment

You had never been so beautiful

The whole scene looked like a renaissance painting

He grabbed his phone, he couldn’t resist, and snapped a picture

You didn’t even flinched, you even moaned one more time, your chest sticking out

“You look so fucking gorgeous”, he admired, not being able to act any longer, this was it, it came sooner than expected, but anticipated nonetheless

“Jace”, you called, but it wasn't accusatory, it was indeed, a call

He walked until he kneeled by the side of the tub

“When I said I was going to help you with whatever you needed, I mean… anything”, he teased with a wide smile.

You rubbed your tights together shamelessly, not trying to hide it, and Jace smirked darkly

HIs hand disappeared under the water, down your leg and then

You moaned wantonly, like a common whore when a single finger grazed your folds

One touch, and you spread your legs wantonly

How long has it been?

Way too fucking long

“We shouldn’t”, you managed to muster, even though you spread your legs wider like a whore, he only laughed, not believing it for a second

“We shouldn’t… we fucking have to”

He was your stepson

Fuck

You forgot about it pretty quickly when he latched his lips to your, devouring you, taking your breath with only one lock of lips

He fucked you with two fingers, first softly, until you moaned and turned in the tub, asking for more, begging for it.

“You like it when your stepson fingerfucks you?”, he teased

“Yes!”, you admitted, because to you, this was only a dream, this couldn’t be happening, not really.

“Aren’t you a dirty little whore, uh?”, he kept teasing, “fucking men more than a decade older than you, you should be with someone who can keep up with you”

“Someone like you?”, you whined

“Fuck yeah like me”, he said, twisting his fingers until he found what he was looking for, then your eyes did traveled to the back of your head, just like he imagined it

And when you were about to cum…

He released you

“Mmmm why?”, you whined, tears in your eyes

“Because you had been such a tease”, he growled, you are going to beg me to fuck you”, you moaned, “I’ll be waiting for you in your room”, he whispered dangerously, and left the bathroom

Now you could put a stop to this right now, or you could get into your room and get your back blown out just like you needed it

The decision was pretty easy to make

You got out of the tub, dried yourself slowly, not daring to even touch your pussy, then you put on your rob, you could see Jace from the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a smirk on his lips

Where was the sweet boy you had met the past few weeks?

Nowhere to be found

And that made it even more easy to do

You walked slowly, teasingly, your eyes on him, his eyes on you

You didn’t even cared to think about the consequences of this actions

You didn’t care

A primal need had taken a hold in your body, and you they were going to get sated

This was the culmination of years of sexual neglect… you didn't even dare to think about how wrong this was…

“Jacey”, you moaned, testing the opening of the robe, “are you sure?”, you knew your body wasn’t perfect, and yet, you had him here, looking at you like that, eating you with his eyes darkened like those of a hunter about to pounce

This wasn’t happening…

So it didn’t matter

It was all a dream

It had to be

it was definitely not the pills jace had replaced your birth control with

It was not the wine

It was a dream

“I can’t take it any longer”, he muttered, grabbing you by the fabric, ripping your robe from your body, grabbing your hips and drawing you to him, until you straddled him on the bed

You felt his… thick cock right under your pussy, and you moaned, wanted to feel it for real

“Oh yeah, rub yourself on me, you needy little thing”, he whined, he was so fucking sexy, as he looked up to you with those dark eyes, and chiseled like features

He was wearing soft gray cotton pants, that did nothing to hide his monster cock

“Please Jacey”, you whined

“What?”, he teased, “you have been a really bad girl, you know? flaunting all of this in front of me, not even giving me a taste…”, his eyes trailed your naked body over him, his greedy hands grabbing and squishing everything he could get his hands on

You rubbed yourself on him shamesly, needily

“I need you”, you whined

“Oh I know you do”, he growled.

You decided to take matters into your own hands. you separated from him a bit, just enough so you could grab the hem of his pants and lower them, releasing his…

Oh fuck

So you weren’t lying to yourself, it was big and thick, and already so hard, and leaking

All for you

“Mmmm”, you moaned, in anticipation, as you took it with both your hands, it felt so heavy, you couldn’t even wrap your hands around it

“Use it”, demanded Jace, you started rubbing him, pumping him, making sure to use his own precum to lubricate him.

“So big”, you barely recognize yourself, you didn't know what was happening, you wanted him so badly it hurted you

“Is all yours baby”, he whined

If it was yours, you were going to do as you wanted, you dropped to your knees between his thick thighs, as Jace looked down at you with devotion

Only two of his fingers and he had you on your knees for him

He couldn’t even wait to see what was going to happen after he fucked you

He moaned, dropping his head back when you gave him a kitten lick at his tip

“Fuck”, there was no way you could fit it all in your mouth, so you used both hand to massage him as you took care of his tip, “yes just like that”

You moaned approvingly, trying to get as much as you could, but it wasn’t much

“You like sucking cock don’t you?”, he asked, his voice thick

“Yes”, you released him, only to answer, and then you took him in your mouth again, sucking his tip

“Shit!”, he cursed

He knew you were going to be… open… for it, but he never expected this, it was better than anything he could have imagined

You wanted to please him, and he didn't rush you, yet, you tried to take more and more each time your head bobbed up and down

Not even half

But Jace stopped you

“I need you”, he demanded, he stood up and helped you up too, you undressed him at his request, taking his hoodie, shirt, and getting rid of his pants until he kicked them off of his feet

He looked down at you, until he grabbed you, drawing you to him

Your naked bodies collided as your lips with his

He was hungry for you, his tongue immediately asking permission to enter and you gladly granted it

It was dirty, wrong, and you fucking love it

This is a dream

You were a tangle of limbs, as you fell to the bed, but you wanted to resume where you left, so you make sure he accommodate himself on the bed

Your marital bed

His cock rested over his stomach, as you accommodate yourself over him

“Take it slow darling”, he whined, you grabbed his cock still wet with your saliva.

Oh he so wanted to taste you

But tonight, it was all about you using him

You accommodated yourself over him, lining his thick cock with your entrance, and then, you lowered yourself

You moaned when he entered you, the stench was a bit painful, but you were so wet, it felt incredibly delicious

“Tell me darling”, he said, looking up at you, his hand grabbing your hips, squishing the skin, “who is this making you feel so good?

“Mmmm Jace”, you whined, taking another inch inside of you, you moved your hips in circles, easing him into you, it felt so good, to feel him rub against your insides, he was filling you so good.

“Who?”, he demanded

“Jace!”, you cried out, when he retrieved himself, to punish you for something

“Who’s this cock that your are fucking yourself with?”, he asked then

“Yours!”, he slammed down, making you take all of him in one movements, “AH fuck!”, you cursed, “So full”

“This is nothing”, he teased, “I want to see you full of my cum”

Gods those words enticed you to keep moving your hips, fucking yourself on him, until you found the angle you needed, for him to bully your special spot

“It feels so good”, he whined, “your pussy is so fucking tight”

“Your cock is so big”, you babbled, now going up and down

“I know, and it's all yours”

“All mine?”, you asked

“Yes, is this pussy mine?”, he asked, easing your clit with his thumb, making you shriek

“Yes!”, you screamed

“You sure?”, he teased

“Mhmh”, you moaned

“Good girl, as long as it is only mine, you can have this all you want”, you started going back and forth with your hips, making Jacaerys draw his head back… but he couldn’t come just yet, he grabbed you, and with a shriek and a single smooth movement, now he had you under him

“Enough, now we are making thing my way”, he growled

And he started thrusting so hard into you, the bed started creaking dangerously under you, the board slamming against the wall

“Ah”, you whined, your pussy tightening so hard, squeezing him, jace had to work hard not to cum tight then and there

“Take it”

He couldn’t believe this was happening, this must be a dream…

You cummed, hard, didn’t even try not to, it was too much…

And Jace cummed right after, filling you with his cum

You didn't even think about the consequences, there was not going to be any…

This was just a dream…

He took himself off of you, and immediately you felt his seed dripping out of you.

He chuckled darkly, with one of his fingers, he collected it and pushed back inside you, with your moan resounding all over your room

“You are mine now”, he demanded

Sleep was taking you, you were exhausted…

And Jace only hoped this was enough to breed you, not like he didn’t want to have you more times…

But the sooner the better…

Right?

I'm going to be honest, I was going to cut it right before the smut, and then I thought, I couldn't do that to you all

muahaha

She folded pretty quickly but I mean, who wouldn't?

taglist!

@champomiel @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @lukepattersin @ladylyanna91 @snowflake-latte @bruher @bellstwd @inesven @iamavailablesstuff @haydee5010 @happinessinthebeing @agqrtz @ajanauia @joliettes @lightdragonrayne @ivoryluvs @fairysluna

#misguidedblurred #jacaerys strong #jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #hotd modern au #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #jace x reader

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mitziholder · 7 months

Note

Can you talk more about my lesbian experience with loneliness pretty please

ok. It’s dog shit written as the salve of a deranged narcissist’s ego.

I am sick of things being lauded as revolutionary and important just because they’re Real - Real and Honest. honest does not mean good. memoirs are works like any other. they have their biases and a point to make and goals to achieve. I can read into their content and criticize their handling of it and the goals and motivations of the “characters” therein. and, believe it or not, I am not in the business of clapping for wannabe rapists just because they were so far gone they thought that hiring a prostitute was an essential expression of their adult autonomy and independence (and Female Power and Sexuality blah blah blah blah blah)

boo-hoo. poor me. I had anxiety and depression and an eating disorder and I self-harmed and and and I was the most pathetic sad little worm on the planet. I was so sad and so lonely. and now I have put it out there into the world - seeking absolution from an army of people who think that what I did was fine because I put it all on display - and you can’t criticize it because it is so real. if you criticize it, you’re afraid of dark and uncomfortable subject matter. if you criticize it, you just didn’t get it. (on that note, I would say that I got it better than the author. the portrayal of that prostitute really says it all. lol. lmao.)

really, why should I give a shit about the pity party therapy session of a woman who used her own pain as a justification for exploiting another human being, who contributed to the sex industry, whose only fear was of disappointing her parents and only shame was the fact that she was too inhibited to really enjoy the experience? why should I support and uphold the work of a person who did that and then profited off of it? why should I appreciate the cultural contributions of someone whose perspective on Lesbianism is a purely self-indulgent affirmation of what people already imagine to be true: that we’re mentally unstable, dysfunctional sex perverts?

I wouldn’t clap for Jimmy Swaggart, either.

I am not going to say that I hope she dies but I’m ending the sentence there.

#ask

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shyvioletcat · 5 months

Text

Sometimes when life gives you lemons you just have to write a self indulgent fic to make yourself feel better. this is another late submission for @throneofglassmicrofics. This one is for PHOTOSHOOT. Don't word count check me on this one.

Part 2

~~~~~

The wall of the small loft studio was cool on Rowan’s back as he waited for the set to finish being dressed. He’d already prepped his equipment, all his cameras were charged and ready to go. The focus of the room was a large bed tastefully dressed in expensive sheets, the backdrop a blank beige wall that would provide the neutrality. Rowan had a cursory say in the set, but it was his job as the photographer to work with what he was given. And he did a damn good job of it.

Rowan had enough self awareness to admit that he thought lingerie shoots were beneath him. More often than not they were tacky and overtly objective of the female form. But the way he was being overpaid was ludicrous just to make sure they got him and he’d just had a lens dropped by a clumsy assistant. The money was opportunely offered and wouldn’t go to waste.

Heels clicked on the wooden floors, announcing the arrival of whoever Rowan was meant to be photographing. When he saw exactly who it was he stood a little straighter, surprised and more than a little excited about the shoot now.

Aelin Galathynius walked onto set and he could feel the energy change. Besides her stunning beauty she had a presence that held the entire focus of the room, and it was part of the reason she had made such an impact as a model. Her career had started in her teens and had exploded onto every format imaginable. She’d been a cover-girl countless times, had people bidding outrageous amounts to have her as the face of their product. Aelin was the best of the best. And she knew it.

She strutted around with unabashed confidence, even though she wore nothing more than expensive red lace strung between hems on satin. A short, thin, gauzy robe offered some semblance of modesty, but Rowan knew for a fact that Aelin wasn’t a shy woman. They’d worked together a multitude of times and their banter had progressively tilted towards flirtation. He couldn’t help himself, not when her wit was as disarmingly sharp as her beauty. They might even be considered friends, or maybe it was just friendly colleagues.

A make-up artist was touching up Aelin’s face when her manager approached her. Arobynn Hamel was infamous within the industry, a man who could make or break a career on a whim. Much like other men of his position, he was fucking vile. Rowan watched as Hamel snapped at the make-up artist and invaded Aelin’s personal space like he owned it, like he owned her. Aelin didn’t flinch or recoil, either too brave or used to his behaviour. It made Rowan want to punch him in the face.

Hamel said something and Rowan might have openly applauded the eye roll Aelin gave in response. Her unwavering fire is what gave her the edge to survive in this world. Then her eyes travelled across the loft and landed on Rowan. “You ready to get this party started, Whitethorn?”

There was no point in delaying, so Rowan headed over to his equipment. Meanwhile, Aelin prepped too, dropping her robe onto a fold out chair and sat on the edge of the bed. She looked like a vision, with her golden hair set in soft waves cascading down her back, that barely there underwear accentuating her curves. With her looking like that, this photoshoot might be harder to get through than he thought.

“When you’re ready,” Rowan said as he dropped the strap around his neck and readied his camera.

Aelin was damn near flawless. She was so expressive, she could capture you through the camera with just a shift of her eyes, a tilt of her smile, her image could sell anything. And her manager knew it and exploited it. Hamel was the worst kind of man imaginable. Over his career there had been multiple allegations brought up against him, it was only his money and influence that saved him. Right now the way he was ogling Aelin and outright yelling directions at her made Rowan’s skin crawl. It was unsettling Aelin too, he could see it in the tightness of her body—how her face was never quite relaxed. The pervert was ruining his shoot.

“We need to close the set,” Rowan announced. “Now.”

“She’s fine,” Arobynn said curtly.

Rowan put his hands on his hips and turned slowly. “Everyone here is disrupting the creative vibe of the shoot. Hurry up and leave or I will.”

There was a firm promise in Rowan’s voice and a few people were already moving. Hamel was ready for a fight but Aelin backed up the request.

“You know these creative types,” she said, making it sound like an insult. “Full of bullish stubbornness, he won’t stop until he gets his way.”

Aelin’s disdain seemed to please Arobynn, but even then he reluctantly left. Rowan just turned his back and waited. Aelin was sitting on the bed, her eyes fixed on him. When that door finally shut, the sound echoing in the now nearly empty loft, she smiled.

”Well, that was a neat little trick.”

Rowan shrugged. “You were uncomfortable, doesn’t make for good photos.”

”Oh, this is all about your job is it?” Aelin taunted.

Rowan gave her a look that said she wasn’t about to get a rise out of him and no, this wasn’t just about his job and she knew it.

Aelin fluffed out her hair and tossed her shoulders back. “Let’s have some fun then, shall we?”

With a sigh she fell on the bed, sweeping her arms out and arching her back. It was hard to watch her writhing on the sheets, it was like a fantasy come to life.

“Pick up your camera, Rowan.” The way she said his name had his skin feeling tighter. There was a huskiness to it that sounded like it belonged to the deep, dark hours of the night. “You have a job to do.”

Five minutes in, Rowan knew that Aelin was determined to torture him, slowly, painfully. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her directly, it was safer through the camera. Kept a barrier between them because Aelin wasn’t playing around. With just the two of them she let her inhibitions go. Her hands wandered over her body, lingering dangerously over, and sometimes beneath, edges of satin. It couldn’t be helped the way the camera tracked the path over her exposed cleavage, or when her nails raked up her thigh. And then there were the looks she was giving him—she was determined to unravel him completely.

They weren’t far off gazes at nothing, she looked right down the lens, right at him. This is what Rowan imagined she might look like if she were to beg for his touch, and if he did touch her and she was caught in the throes of how good he could make her feel. Something about her looks felt like a challenge. Or maybe it was a promise. Whatever it was, his jeans had been uncomfortably tight for longer than he was brave enough to admit.

‘I think that’ll do it,” Rowan said, his voice thick and Aelin definitely noticed. He could tell from the wicked grin he gave her as she strutted across the room, barely wearing a thing. When Rowan realised he was tracking her every step he snapped his gaze away.

He was in such deep, unending shit.

~~~~~

this does have a mostly wriiten second part *sly smile*

#rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass microfics

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aprilmayverse · 10 days

Text

mayverse dash simulator

💅 pinkprlncesses Follow

🧟‍♀️ samuraishattered Follow op this is an incredibly fucked up and insensitive way to post about this. six people are dead. four of them are literal children. imagine losing a loved one and people are fucking memeing about it with supernatural. grow up. learn some fucking respect for the dead. this isn't just some quirky little fandom story like sharpie bath or whatever. these are real kids who had hopes and dreams and families and loved ones and now they are dead.

💅 pinkprlncesses Follow was it ever really that deep

🦴 trudycryme Follow New video about June July and Dysnomia Badmann's murders on the way! Special surprise at the end so stay tuned ;) Sponsored by Tender Lender <3

🦴 trudycryme Follow No fucking way

🩰 blood-and-books Follow wait, has anyone noticed that the accomplice in the bluecorp case and that 13 year old who killed her gfs parents and 2 random boys are half-sisters??

🍭 mera-duras-left-eyebrow Follow WAIT AND THEIR OLDEST SISTER HAD LINKS W/ BLUECORP TOO WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN

🪷 helloroses Follow does anyone remember how fucked up april may's career was. i rewatched pint-sized princesses after the news got out about her execution and like i know it was the 90s but what the fuck was going on there. it feels like a crime to watch it

🪷 helloroses Follow it's the same with her modelling career, why was she, a teenage girl, doing so many photoshoots where she was barely clothed. why did ad campaigns need all this

🦢 evilwomanenjoyer Follow why are we defending june july in 2018. she killed people. she murdered people. you are the same people who defend joe darke and dahlia hawthorne and matt engarde and fucking redd white. she took lives. where am i.

🐜 what-is-a-username420 Follow please learn about nuance and use your brain

🦢 evilwomanenjoyer Follow nuance is for fictional characters like pious priestess or whoever the fuck. not for real life situations like this.

🐜 what-is-a-username420 Follow sometimes im like "the reading comprehension on this site isnt THAT bad" and then i read shit like "nuance is for fiction not for real life"

🦴 trudycryme Follow I am truly, truly sorry for attempting to film those teenagers corpses and for breaking into the victims childhood home in an attempt to interview his family 2 days after the murder, I understand why I was wrong and I'm going to try my best to refrain from doing stuff like that next time lol. To further this, I'm starting a new merch collection and donating 20% of profits to JAVCV (Japanifornian Association for Victims of Violent Crime), buy it before the sale ends on March 4th!

🧟‍♀️ samuraishattered Follow not to be harsh but i hope you die

🌈 godsstrongestfujo Follow i think april may was a genuinely a bad person like she was just this rich woman who both did the modelling campaign + assisted in the murder to get money from her sugar daddy. shes not as innocent as yall make her out to be she just has pretty privelege

🍁 diskhorse-divorce Follow 1. she was not rich. she, her single mother, and sister were homeless for years. she had to be a child star and teen model to provide for herself and her family. they lived in a trailer at some point 2. she was very obviously being threatened by white. the courts said it was a lie because of fucking misogyny and white's power over her. 3. even if she did do it out of her own free will she still got executed over a crime where the death penalty at age 23 was not justified. 4. why are you calling a thirteen year old a bad person for doing an ad campaign where she was being heavily sexualised and exploited and stolen from you fucking weirdo

🩰 angelfawns Follow april may was such a tragic girl and an icon and so beautiful omg. she looked SO good during the summer 2008 ad campaign for bluecorp too. hold on i need to change my pfp

🐦‍⬛ proud-edgelord Follow if my parents named me teylhoure i wouldve killed myself too

#meta

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youremyheaven · 3 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/youremyheaven/754446269650452480/they-dooo-notice-everything-i-love-it-sometimes

Jupiter women can lowkey be like this too. Idk about the Freud stuff, but jupiter is the husband. When their dad fails to display positive jupiter traits and becomes arrogant, withdrawn and selfish, they become their own dad. So they embody or atleast attempt to embody positive jupiter traits of generosity and virtue. Now that I’ve typed that out, it doesn’t sound as relevant as it did in my head 😭

However I do think that what OP was describing is more of a Bharani thing than anything else. I’m sure other venus naks do it too but still.

Bharani has major connotations to childbirth and so many women make sacrifices when they have children, some are forced to leave education, some develop long term health problems, and some struggle to leave difficult relationships since children complicate that kind of thing. Before medicine advanced it was somewhat common to just die entirely bc of childbirth.

So therefore I think a lot of Bharani natives (esp moon bc we’re talking about mothers) are overly aware of the sacrifice their mothers made and it weighs on them. It becomes their “burden” as the translation of Bharani, “she who bares” takes on a literal and metaphorical interpretation. So basically Bharanis like to acknowledge the people who came before them and their sacrifices but they can have a bit of a chip on their shoulder bc of it. Inheriting their karma in a sense.

So when they experience that humiliation from their abusive parent they “eat the pain” as part of the burden they bare. Fighting back will always lead to more suffering for them despite their anger and resentment (aries). In mythology Yama was about to kick his mom but even though he holds himself back, she still cursed his foot.

Yama’s father ☀️ ☀️ also got mad at his mother for struggling to look directly at him and cursed Yama as a result, which is such a good example of the dynamics their parents have and how they suffer from it.

In conclusion, Bharanis are stoics become pushovers with daddy issues. Sorry for the unsolicited lecture, it may happen again

Nahh you're right. Jupiter women and their daddy issues are well documented (by me lmao 🤣🤡) they do become excessively giving because their dad's weren't giving at all 😤

Jupiter is a masculine planet for a reason after all. Reminds me of Rekha, Purvabhadrapada Moon. She and her siblings were the illegitimate children of a famous actor and he never acknowledged them publicly. Her mom had many other kids from other relationships etc and they were dirt poor. Rekha even went to school with her father's legitimate kids and other kids in school knew about the whole situation and called her a bastard 🥺🥹

She started acting at the age of 13 to support her ailing mother and 6 or 7 siblings. She hated being an actor and was severely exploited in the industry, esp since she had no mentors or father figures :(((( in turn she made sure none of her siblings ever had to work in the movies to make a living and supported everyone financially until they settled down 🥺 she in turn never got married or had kids :((( (she was manipulated into marrying a guy once and he committed suicide and she was hella traumatized by that as well, but that's a separate story 💀)

Here's a pic of Rekha with some of her siblings (2 or 3 are missing in the picture)

She does embody that Jupiter woman being the man trope.

(This is Rekha & her mom Pushpavalli)

Despite everything, she's never spoken ill about her father or even her mother, who clearly made her the scapegoat and placed undue pressure on her to provide even though she was a literal child. She even named her house after her mother 🥺

Anywaayyyyyssss

I agree that Bharanis are in a unique position because of their mythology and in general I think Bharanis are more dignified and humane than other Venus naks

They're outcaste naks who know what it's like to be the outsider and work their way up

But yes they're pushovers with daddy issues 😭😭😭😭

I lowkey like how empathetic they are to women bc of what they saw growing up 😔😔 like they're genuinely just like "no this is not how it should be, women need to be worshipped period, my woman will never suffer this way" and 🤧🤧😩😩😩i fall for that shit lmao

I had a recent experience with a Jupiter conjunct Purvashada Rising man who thought that broke men did not deserve to have women 💀💀💀 he said men who cannot provide have no business dating or marrying 💀💀and that "real men" should never ask for a 50-50 and put the burden on his partner and if he truly loves her, he should want her to be relaxed and enjoy life. He said things like "what's the point of me working so hard if my family isn't enjoying themselves and having a good time, my wife can do whatever she wants and I'll support her but she will never have to work to pay the bills" and ngl I love this mentality lmfao 😂🤣🤪🤭

Venus men being scarred by incompetent dads and overcompensating by being the provider and father they never had is >>>>> 🥵🥵🥵🥵so sexy of them tbh

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purgemarchlockdown · 10 months

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Mikoto being so heavily associated with the female characters while Kotoko isn't is really intriguing with how he's so heavily sexualized in MeMe and plays into a lot of horror tropes.

The bathtub and the shower scene are common locations in horror, especially for Women. With one of the most iconic horror scenes Ever being the shower scene from Psycho, in which a woman is murdered in the shower.

Not to mention the lyrical pattern of calling back the title of the first MV that all the girls, except for Kotoko, follow. With Mikoto actually calling back to the title of his T1 MV in Double and having it be such an important part of it that they call back to it in the Trial 2 Album. Something originally pointed out by oboetmasuka here and candckirby who also mentions Mikoto's role as the "Final girl" and his consistent pregnancy metaphor with how John is called a newborn.

I think the way Kotoko connects to Masculinity is subtler but just as important, her interrogation question shows she's not attached to it, but she doesn't seem against it or anything.

(Kotoko Interrogations)

T1Q10: What do you think about the word 'feminimity'? A: It's one of the means you can take. It's something you can freely choose depending on the scene, so it's not something to cling onto.

Kotoko doesn't wear anything traditionally feminine but she doesn't lean super masculine either...except.

Okay so, 1moremilgram-enjoyer made this really interesting post about Kotoko's cap you can read here. Basically her cap has the name Jacques Roulet on it's front. Jacques Roulet is the name of a Male Serial Killer who killed two children and claimed to be a werewolf.

This cap appears in her outfit in Harrow:

But also appears in her T2 Design:

Establishing some sort of connection between him and Kotoko.

If we're reading into this Further. John and Kotoko are actually very similar in their want to become someone's "savior" as that's what gives them a sense of purpose.

John's an interesting character in this dynamic. Because if Mikoto is the helpless princess, John is the faithful prince. Coming to save his pitiful damsel whose too weak to protect himself.

(Mikoto T2 VD)

John: It’s true that I was the one who wanted to destroy everything… and the weakness of Boku, who couldn’t stand up for himself all alone, might have been the origin of that. But… that’s all there is to it. Is that a sin?

Mikoto has little to no agency and he Knows This. He doesn't know what's happening, is confused and terrified all the time, and feels like he's on a train with an unknown destination. He feels powerless and like he has no control. While John tries his best to help him, but ultimately harms him, cause John will do what He thinks Mikoto needs without knowing what Mikoto wants. Something he seems regretful for.

Hey, I just wanted to save you So why did it come to this?

However, Kotoko does have some sense of Power and Agency and actively Holds this over others.

From the begin I've never asked for your understanding! My actions, one by one, are bringing earth closer to peace. Useless Weaklings should just shut up and let me protect them!

There's nothing inherently wrong with wanting to present more masculine or feminine. However, there is a problem with enforcing strict and rigid roles onto people, especially if those roles enforce systems of power that allow for the exploitation of groups of people by elevating one group and putting down the other.

Even if the gender roles the two fit in are flipped, it is still playing into unhealthy ideals of gender and society that perpetuate abusive systems of power.

(Utena Scripts)

Voice: Was the ring from the prince meant as an engagement ring? Voice: That part was good, Voice: but because of the strength of her admiration for the prince, Voice: the princess made up her mind to become a prince herself! Voice: But is that really good for her?

(I got it in!)

I think I might have to wait for Deep Cover's MV to release to fully discuss this, but this is really curious to me.

#milgram #kotoko yuzuriha #mikoto kayano #milgram thoughts

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machinesonix · 6 months

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Okay so chewing my way through Dune for the first time as an adult and there’s this chapter that’s got me wilding out so hard I’m basically just gonna paraphrase it here. Obviously concessions need to be made when switching mediums and I think the films have done a splendid job, but I think they sorta took the teeth out of this one.

When the Atredies first touch down on Dune, Lady Jessica is introduced to their groundskeeper, an elderly Fremen woman called ‘the Shadout Mapes.’ Now Mapes is extremely excited to meet a member of the Bene Gesserit, from which Jessica correctly concludes the ministoria protectiva has been here seeding the local mythology with favorable propaganda. Like a good third of the new movie is screaming about how fucked up all that is, so I will curb my enthusiasm to explain what the funny words mean in exhaustive detail, but suffice to say the Space Mom Cult secretly shapes cultures all across the universe to recognize them as cool people that everybody ought to listen to when they show up. So Jessica immediately code switches into Ominous Witch Mode and shows off some of her preternatural powers of observation by calling out the Shadout Mapes for having a weapon on her. In the movie the knife is a gift. The book has a little more nuance that has me absolutely salivating.

Mapes flips out and shows her the knife, which later we’re gonna learn is made from a worm tooth. She explains that Jessica might be the One, and if she is, the knife belongs to her. If she isn’t then she’s gonna kill Jessica with it because now she already knows too much. And to put her to the test she asks her what the knife is. Jessica hopes to establish her credibility by being well versed in ancient tongues, and intends to call it the ‘maker of death’ because in the language that the word ‘Shadout’ is derived from that’s the idiomatic translation of ‘knife.’

Instead Mapes starts screaming in religious fervor as soon as she hears the word ‘Maker.’ Because the worms make the spice, see. Jessica absolutely triples down on this, and this is what drives me wild. Immediately after narrowly escaping murder by a lucky stroke of linguistics she’s like FUCK YOU, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE NOT THINKING I WOULD RECOGNIZE THE MAKER. IN FACT, I’M GONNA STAB YOU NOW. Like okay, what she actually does is go ‘Mapes, now that the blade’s been drawn who’s blood is it gonna taste?’ And here I just have to say hats off to the Bene Gesserit for their training in genre awareness. Jessica has absolutely no idea of any of the customs surrounding a crysknife and risks blowing her cover here to flex even harder. She’s right, of course, and lets the Shadout Mapes off with just a scratch. It turns out Fremen have hypercoagulant blood which is not terribly important but still kinda cool.

So to put a bow on all of this, the Shadout Mapes ends up saying something along the lines of ‘She is the One, she will free us.’ This shocks Jessica. She recognizes this line from the ministoria protectiva, and knows that only the super fucked up horrible places wind up with the ‘we will save you from your oppressors’ prophecies. And I just love it because here we've got a microcosm of what this is all about. The ministoria protectiva did exactly what it was supposed to do and saved a Bene Gesserit life because Mapes heard her own religion in what's basically a cold read con. This exploitative power is so intense that Mapes is willing to give Jessica her life; there's no reason for a Fremen to expect somebody is going to show mercy with a crysknife. And then when she's feeling at her highest and mightiest she gets a wake up call. These people have context.

The Fremen don't have their finger on the pulse of galactic politics. They know there is a limited amount of moisture in their atmosphere and that the off-worlders in the palaces are going to take enough of it to keep themselves comfortable. As far as they're concerned, the Atredies are basically Harkonnens with better personal hygiene. The freedom the Shadout Mapes is talking about is freedom from Jessica's family. The ministoria protectiva doesn't exist in a vacuum. The Fremen's history of oppression has become inseparable from what was meant to be a means to control them.

#dune #dune meta #ministoria protectiva #lady jessica

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fishyyyyy99 · 1 year

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OK, I seriously can't believe someone actually thinks this about season 4 of Never Have I Ever:

"In 2023, the message of the show suddenly turned into *"racism, white supremacy, patriarchy, and class inequity doesn't exist anymore. Devi did a Bollywood dance, got into Princeton, and a racist white guy said he loves her at the last minute, so everything is going to be okay (for Gen Z)."*

This is the opposite of the premise that the show started with in 2020, which acknowledged the brutal unfairness in the world."

Firstly, it wasn't a Bollywood dance. They danced to the Tamil dubbed version of a song that is originally Telugu. Tamil cinema is known as Kollywood, and Telugu cinema is known as Tollywood. Maybe people who comment so much on racism should learn a little more about not clubbing all of Indian culture together. As a Telugu woman who lives in Tamil Nadu, I'd like to say that I was really happy with the dance number. I was especially happy because it wasn't a Bollywood dance (season 1 just used Hindi songs, and that really annoyed me because Devi is Tamil).

The show literally acknowledged that Devi ("our little hothead from the valley") was happy in that moment. There was no claim about everything being okay forever. It's just that she is better equipped to deal with problems now. She will continue to grow non-linearly, just like she did throughout the show.

Of course, the show became less about dealing with intense grief as it went on - time heals. But they did portray that grief still lingers, despite that.

Also, the portrayal of familial relationships was great - Devi talking about how it's cool to live with three generations of women in her house, Nalini having to deal with empty nest syndrome, Nalini talking about her own struggle with having to start over in the US after being a top resident in India (but of course, the last season does not acknowledge how brutally unfair the world is /s) and how she was just trying to protect Devi from being devastated, Devi setting her mother up (showing how much she had healed and grown since season 2), Kamala being too attached to her family to move away and Nalini telling her that change is good (and even Kamala's coping mechanism of becoming overprotective of Nirmala), Kamala and Devi's sweet moments, the family's acceptance and joyous celebration of Nirmala finding love again, Nirmala calling Nalini out for being mean to Devi, and of course, the heartwarming scene of Nalini helping Devi pack and telling her she's proud of her. Devi's final monologue focused primarily on how much she cares about her mother. Did all of that mean nothing to some people?

Never Have I Ever is not an unproblematic show. But I still can't believe it's being reduced to this. I. Seriously. Just. Can't. Devi was so much more comfortable in her skin than when the show started, and was no longer obsessed with external validation. Her relationship with Nalini had improved greatly. She embraced her culture so much more. She was okay with not getting into Princeton, and realised that she'd always be connected to her father no matter what. I don't mind that she didn't completely give up on her Princeton dream. I don't think she needed to, to show that she had healed. She was able to tell her dad's story in a way that felt true to herself, and did not feel exploitative (she reclaimed her power from a racist white guy). She was truly happy when she prayed to the gods before leaving to Princeton. She was surrounded by people who cared about her and loved her, as she said. And she was happily in the middle of a fun game of Never Have I Ever before Ben showed up. She had learned to love herself and her life. The show having a happy (for now) ending does not equal them saying that everything is going to be okay forever. The world is still brutally unfair. Devi is just a little better at dealing with it.

I don't know who needs to hear this but Never Have I Ever had a TEAM DEVI ending! Just because Devi was not single at the end of the show/ended up with someone you dislike, it doesn't mean that the ending wasn't a win for team Devi.

TEAM DEVI FOR THE WIN! AND THAT'S WHAT WE GOT.

I'll acknowledge that there were issues with the show throughout all four seasons. But I can't see such an empowering show being dismissed in such a ridiculous way.

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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 1 year

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Delicate, Chapter Two: …Ready For It?

same disclaimer as last time this is just for funsies and i’m not a writer !! also we’ve unlocked cissa and lily povs!!

CW: a bit of alcohol-related struggles

< prev chapter next chapter >

“Lily that was mental! You can’t just say things like that, especially in your situation! What if you get sued?”

“The money you waste on PR teams, I invest in lawyers!” Lily replied, dropping her keys on the table, an exasperated Alice following her inside their home.

“She brought up Snape,” Lily justified herself with a sigh, “You know how I get when they bring up Snape.”

They had just come back from Rita Skeeter’s show, and of course it had been a complete disaster: that woman loved to pick the touchiest topics during her live shows, banally exploiting private matters for views and publicity. That was one of the two reasons most celebrities refused to be her guests, the other being that she was generally a very unpleasant woman to interact with.

A right bitch, if you will.

However, Lily’s situation was…singular.

About a year before she had upset a few (many) big shots in the music and acting industries, gaining a lot of enemies and getting terrible backlash. It had been a horrible year, and thankfully her friends were there for her, but she wanted to get back on the scene. She wasn’t going to let some rich assholes dim her light.

So, of course, when Rita Skeeter had offered her an interview, she had accepted out of desperation. Like an idiot.

“She read one of Avery’s Tweets and you went crazy!” whined Alice.

“I didn’t go crazy-“

“‘How is Lily Evans still relevant? She only makes songs about Snape, he basically made her famous’ And what did you say, Lily?”

Lily bit her lip, remembering the moment with just the tiniest bit of shame. The smile Rita had on her lips while reading that stupid Tweet, the blind rage it had caused.

“Please remind me, what did you say?”

“Something mature and responsible, i’m sure-“

“You said, and I quote, ‘Just to let Avery Jr know, I was the one who made that bitch fucking famous’” Alice countered, eyebrows raised.

Lily swallowed. “…I didn’t say anything else though, did I?”

“Because they cut the cameras!”

“Listen,” rebutted Lily, sitting on the sofa in their living room and pulling out her phone.

“I may have implied that he’s gay but it’s not my fault if he finds that offensive! It’s his problem, really, and he can’t bring that up to court.”

“I think you should focus on the fact that you called Severus Snape a bitch, and that he would be a nobody if it weren’t for you,” countered Alice, taking a pot of peach yoghurt from the fridge. “I pity Longbottom, really: lately being your manager seems like a fucking nightmare.”

“Good thing he’s good at his job, then. He’s like part of the family now.” Lily looked up from her phone smiling, “You are the mum, he’s the dad, Marlene is the reckless younger sister and i’m the angry teen full of hatred for this world.”

“We’re both too young to be your parents, and he might be suspicious of his wife writing about women in her love songs, you know.” Alice smiled, taking a spoonful of yoghurt. “What are you watching?”

“Oh, it’s Narcissa’s last show,” explained Lily with a shrug, “She performed a few songs for a festival last week and I heard great things about a certain performance…apparently she’s been working with this girl for a few months, singing together. She’s been hiding a gem, that’s what her fans have been saying.”

“And how come you’re suddenly so interested in Narcissa Black? Didn’t know you were a fan of hers.” Alice got closer, leaning over Lily’s head to watch the video on her phone. She carried the faint smell of peaches and the weight of past personal issues in her voice, but Lily wasn’t going to pry. Much.

“I like her music, actually. But it’s this new girl that really piqued my interest. New blood, always exciting.” Lily paused the video and decided to push her luck, just a bit. “They remind me of us, you know: a younger singer, guided by a-“

“I’m not like Black. And you were already popular when we started living together with Marlene, so I don’t think it counts.” Alice cut her off, harshly, and started walking away. “I’m going to my room, see if I can write something.”

Lily silently accepted her defeat and swiftly changed topic. “Pizza tonight?”

But Alice had already gone up to her room, so Lily took it as permission to order whatever she wanted.

She had no clue what Alice’s issue with Narcissa Black was: in the three years she had been living with her, Alice had never given a sign of knowing Black, and Lily could’ve easily thought Alice had absolutely no connection to her.

However, the way Alice became quiet whenever Narcissa showed up on TV and how she’d turn off the radio when Black’s songs were playing indicated otherwise: in Lily’s opinion, Alice was trying really hard to hide her…hatred? No, not hatred-distaste for Narcissa, but her indifference was a too-long practiced craft for it to be genuine.

Lily thought that constantly trying to ignore someone counted as actually thinking about them, and she had therefore concluded that Alice Fortescue was mildly obsessed with Narcissa Black.

Marlene and Frank agreed that there was something going on between the two, or at least there had been, so Lily supposed she wasn’t just jumping to conclusions.

However, whenever they tried to bring it up, they were always shut off by Alice, and, as childish as it may sound, it hurt: Lily, Marlene and Alice had known each other for years, they had shared fears, hopes, secrets. They had never broken each other’s trust, and that was one of the fundamentals of their friendship.

So why was Alice so incredibly jealous of the corner Narcissa occupied in her mind? Was she ever going to let them in?

She would, eventually.

Or at least Lily hoped so.

In the mean time, she had a new singer to focus her attention on: an unknown girl named Mary Macdonald, who performed for the first time with the Narcissa Black, as the closing act of a festival that had sold out probably because of Black. The piece they were going to sing was a fan favourite, Born to Die, so the crowd’s expectations were extremely high.

This Mary Macdonald was either exceptionally confident, or completely mental.

But when she started to sing, Lily was immediately captivated. From the way she walked on the stage, to how she swayed to the music, to the bright smile on her lips when she wasn’t singing, it was impossible for Lily to take her eyes off her. For a few minutes, Mary’s voice seemed like the only real thing in the world, making everything else feel mundane, unworthy of attention.

Narcissa let Mary steal the spotlight, looking at her proudly like she was showing the world a ground breaking discovery. And she wasn’t wrong, because the girl sang for barely five minutes, and yet Lily was already starving for more.

How could Mary fear the eyes of a few thousands of people when she sang like the whole world was watching? How could she feel the pressure of being a guest on another star’s show, when she shone just as bright?

Lily didn’t need much more after that.

She opened her chat with Alice and Marlene.

lil evans: i’m going to sing with Mary Macdonald and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

lil evans: and we’re having pizza tonight.

“Making her sing during that show was completely mental, Cissa.” Amelia was leaning against the desk in front of Narcissa, arms crossed.

It had always been hard for Narcissa to find her intimidating, since they were similar in both age and personality, so she was one of the few who weren’t affected by her signature Amelia Bones Glare. In addition to that, her mischievous eyes and Narcissa’s satisfied smile made the whole conversation feel more like two friends chatting casually, rather than a lecture about Narcissa’s…surprise song. Introducing Mary to a crowd like that had been a bold choice, but neither of the singers regretted it.

Narcissa and Mary had been working together everyday for two months now, 6 hours of practice daily. Narcissa was aware this rhythm was probably unbearable for Mary, who had another job, but the girl had been set on working her ass off to start thinking about her own album as soon as possible, and even when she eventually started working on it, she still spent a quarter of her day singing.

They even spent part of their free time together: considering how much Mary seemed to dread staying home and how discreet she was about her private life, Narcissa had the suspicion her family situation wasn’t exactly the best, so she had been inviting her over to her place as often as possible with the weirdest excuses to give her a distraction.

It’s not like Narcissa could have helped it, she knew what a shit family could do to a person, and she genuinely appreciated Mary’s company, too.

So much, in fact, that she had taken her to perform live for the first time as soon as she had the chance.

“You’re right, Mel, it was crazy. It worked, though,” replied Narcissa nonchalantly, bringing a cigarette to her lips. Thank God Amelia was also a smoker and allowed the occasional cig-breaks indoors, as long as Narcissa had to share. “It’s all the media has been talking about for the past two weeks. Besides, we are going to drop her album in, like, less than a month, some extra publicity can’t hurt.”

“It was her first time singing to an audience, and you made her jump on a stage in front of live cameras,” Amelia cocked her head to the side, eyes wide in amazement. “She could’ve fucked it up, and I wouldn’t have blamed her.”

“But she didn’t,” countered Narcissa, resting her head against the armchair. “Because we talked about it beforehand. Listen, that girl was born to perform, her place isn’t inside a small recording room. I wanted the people to see her for the first time at her best.”

Amelia shook her head with something vaguely resembling fondness. “You really do care about her, don’t you? Pass it.” Narcissa inhaled and handed her the cigarette. She exhaled and watched as the smoke floated in the air, light under the sun rays like a bride’s veil.

“Why did you even agree to introduce her to me? I didn’t know you had such a kind heart.” Amelia commented, eyes squinted towards the window. “Not that I’m ungrateful. I have a lot of hope in Mary. However, you didn’t strike me as the type of woman who wanted to be…a mentor, I guess.”

Narcissa was still watching the smoke leave the cigarette, head tilted back.

She still didn’t know why she’d let Mary into her home that night, months before.

She knew, however, that she hadn’t hoped to make it past 27, yet there she was, not too far from her 28th birthday.

Leaving her parents’ house and throwing herself onto new projects hadn’t magically changed Narcissa’s life for the better, and she’d also found herself completely alone. There was also the fact that she ended up high or drunk way too often to not consider it a problem, although in the past she hadn’t worried about it too much: many great stars died like that, and Narcissa wasn’t too bothered by the thought of joining them.

But then Mary showed up, with her determination and stoic audacity, so set on really owning her life, and made Narcissa realise how scary her indifference towards death was.

In truth, that night Amelia had answered her email almost immediately.

“The album is promising, but there’s a lot of work to do, Narcissa.”

“I know, but I swear, she has it. The spark, I-I felt it. I could help-“

“You have to be able to help, Narcissa. You know what I mean, right?”

She didn’t drink for five days, after that call. And on the fifth day, Amelia gave her a chance, and Mary officially became part of her life. Since then, there had been highs and lows: sometimes she went to Edgar (who was much more empathetic than Amelia, though Narcissa would never say that to her face), and he’d go to her house to throw away her remaining alcohol. Other times, when Mary was willing to drink with her, she let herself take a glass or two: Narcissa’s rule of thumb was drinking one glass less than Mary, and considering that the girl was still wary of drinking more than a few glasses or a couple of shots, Narcissa hadn’t gotten tipsy in two whole months.

“Narcissa? Are you there?” Amelia waved her hand in front of her eyes. Narcissa noted that the cigarette had disappeared somewhere.

“Yes, Mel. Was just thinking.”

“About?” Amelia asked, eyebrow raised, but Narcissa didn’t say anything. She didn’t like talking about her struggles, but Amelia Bones always seemed to read her mind, which was equally endearing and annoying. So, at the silence that followed, she said, “You’re doing better, by the way. Have you told-“

“I’m not going to tell her-“

“NAR-CIS-SAAAA” Mary barged into the room, eyes bulging and breathing heavily. Her arms were open wide, phone in hand.

“Ma-ryyyy?” Narcissa replied in confusion while raising her arms, mimicking the girl. Mary rushed to her and shoved the phone in her face with an excited smile.

“Som-someone just contacted me and you won’t believe-oh, Amelia, you need to see this, too!”

“Stay still, child, you’re moving too much.” complained Narcissa, squinting at the bright screen and wrapping a hand around Mary’s wrist to steady it. Amelia quickly moved closer, read the first few words, and immediately frowned. “That’s a name I haven’t seen in a while.”

Dear Miss Mary Macdonald,

This is Lily Evans, if the email address wasn’t a dead giveaway. I just saw a video of your performance with Narcissa Black, and I must say, you’ve instantly enchanted me. I could spend many words praising your incredible singing, but perhaps it would be more efficient to get straight to the point.

You may already know this, but because of certain circumstances last year, I completely disappeared from the public eye. I will soon make a comeback though, and I was wondering if you wanted to write a song with me to put in the album. Or we could write a single, however you prefer: to be completely honest, this is just an excuse to sing with you.

I’ll leave my phone number, in case you wish to reach out to me <3

Have a delightful day,

Miss Lily Evans

“What do I do, what do I do?” Mary asked leaving her phone to Narcissa and Amelia, their eyes still glued to the screen.

“Well, Evans has a big fan base, a collaboration with her would be great.” Amelia said, still analysing the email like it was a cryptic message from an alien.

“Do you also sense a flirty undertone or am I seeing things?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, maybe she’s just very informal and frien-no okay, now that you’ve mentioned it, I can kinda see it.” Narcissa replied just as quietly.

“Shoot your shot Mary!” she said, smiling fondly at the girl, who was covering her face with her hands.

“But first, consider that Evans has been in the middle of some drama lately. Despite her loyal fans, her reputation has gone to shit during the past year. You know that, right?” Amelia asked, standing up next to Narcissa’s chair.

“…Actually, I don’t.” Mary replied.

“How do you-“ Amelia whispered, appalled. “Well, I’ll send you some links so you can get what I mean. I had the chance to speak to her a couple of times, she’s a good person. A bit fierce and isn’t afraid of speaking her mind, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Amelia got closer and put a hand on Mary’s arm.

“I bet she’ll be a pleasure to work with. If you want I can contact her manager.”

Mary chewed on her lip, deep in thought.

“Fuck it, I’m doing it.” she snapped, getting her phone back from Narcissa, who let out a small ‘ooooh’ as encouragement.

“But I’ll text her myself. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“I agree. You should also meet her in person, first,” intervened Narcissa, knowingly. “You don’t want to work with someone you don’t get along with. Two artists need chemistry.”

“Mhm…” Mary agreed, distractedly. “I’ll go, then. I just wanted to tell you first, I was absolutely freaking out-“

“Of course you were, it’s Lily Evans we’re talking about,” said Amelia understandingly, “Everyone knows at least one of her songs.”

“…Yeah,” commented Mary, with an unsure smile. “Yes, of course I do. Well, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The two women watched Mary leave the room, practically bouncing instead of walking.

“So, Mary and Lily…” started Amelia once the room had gone back to quiet, still eyeing the door.

“Apparently.” Narcissa already knew where this was going.

“You know she’s Fortescue’s girl, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“…Interesting.”

“I’m not even looking at you but I can feel your stupid grin. Stop it.”

The phone was ringing when Lily got out of the shower: it was rather late, and she wasn’t really expecting any calls. She didn’t recognise the number on the screen, but it wasn’t the usual Unknown Number that meant Snape was trying to get in contact with her, so she accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, is this Miss Lily Evans?” greeted a voice on the other side, and Lily recognised with a smile the old-fashioned welcome.

“Well yes, could this be my dear Miss Mary Macdonald?” she replied, just as charmingly. So Mary wanted to work with her, despite everything…maybe Marlene was right, things were getting more promising.

“My my, it may just be her,” then she laughed softly, and it was such a pleasant sound Lily wanted to put it in a song, somehow. “Sorry, I broke character. Anyway, am I disturbing you?”

“Not everyone is born an actor, darling, and no, not at all-“ Lily scrunched her curls with a wet towel.

“Good, because I wanted to tell you I would love to write a song with you,“ Lily saw her smile widen as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“-But I’m afraid we’ll have to wait at least three weeks.” Mary concluded, sounding so sorry Lily couldn’t manage to feel too disappointed.

“Oh, it’s fine, I can be patient. How come we have to postpone our meeting? If I can ask, of course.”

“Well, you see, I’m working on-“

“LILY!” Marlene barged into her room screaming, her brown eyes open wide and blonde hair even messier than usual.

One thing about Marlene is that she never banally entered rooms, she always barged in, slamming doors open and announcing the motifs of her intrusion. It was a rather dramatic habit, but it always made Alice smile when Marlene appeared on top of the stairs, shouted “HUNGRY!”, and set the dinner-making process in action. Lily was just grateful someone in the house never forgot about meals.

“Marlene-“

“PETER IS BACK IN TOWN!” she continued, grabbing Lily’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mary, can you hang in there for a minute? I’ll be back shortly.” Lily explained, widening her eyes at Marlene, who quickly covered her mouth with her hands, surprised but not really apologetic.

Mary laughed, “Sure, no problem.”

“I’m sorry…” Marlene smiled as Lily muted herself, although she seemed more enthusiastic than sorry.

Marlene, Peter and James had known each other since they were kids, and being all separated for work matters (Marlene and Peter had always worked solo, while James had formed a duo with Sirius Black when they were sixteen), they were all overexcited when they had an excuse to see each other. The four of them together reminded Lily of those puppies that are perpetually either jumping, running or barking.

“It’s okay. So, Peter is back?” Lily smiled.

When Peter was younger, he used to be really quiet and shy, always getting dragged into trouble by James and Marlene first, and then Sirius, too.

Or at least, that’s what Marlene had told her. Lily found it hard to believe, considering how Peter acted now: he was comfortable on the stage, always ready to joke, in front of thousands of people or with his closest friends alike; he wasn’t necessarily the loudest at a party (that honour went to Sirius and James), but he was still a pleasure to have a conversation (and especially talk shit) with.

“Not yet, actually. He’ll be back this Saturday,” Marlene answered, biting back a smile.

“I bet Effie is hosting a welcome-home party as soon as he gets in town,” Lily continued, remembering how Mrs Potter always found opportunities to gather all her “kids” (as she had nominated James and all his friends) under her roof.

“Oh, it’ll be a big one this time,” Marlene confirmed. “She has already asked me to invite every living being I know. Wait, are you on the phone with Mary Macdonald?”

“Shit, I’m making her wait. Can we talk about this later?” Lily asked, bringing the phone to her chest. Nice first impression, idiot.

“Wait, wait. Invite her, too.” Marlene suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I can’t ask her to come to a party all alone with a bunch of people she doesn’t even know-“

“Then ask her to bring Narcissa, too,” Marlene wiggled her eyebrows more aggressively.

It took Lily an instant. She gaped.

“You sick, sick bastard. Alice will be there. Shit will go down, you know?”

“Why? Alice and Narcissa don’t even know each other,” Marlene batted her eyelashes with an innocent shrug. “Besides, Sirius hasn’t spoken to his cousin in forever, they need to catch up.”

Lily licked her lips thoughtfully and brought her attention back to the phone. A formal party wasn’t the best setting to talk about work, but it was perfect for getting to know someone. And Lily really wanted to get to know Mary. She unmuted herself and brought the phone to her ear.

“Hey, before we continue, are you free this Saturday?”

that was all, hope you liked it and let me know if you want to be tagged when i post updates bc it won’t be that often lmao

#lily in her rep era #there’s another chapter before the party chapter(s) but i’m writing them rn and i’m having a lot of fun ngl #anyways #marauders #marauders era #marylily #mary macdonald #lily evans #narcissa black #alice fortescue #alicissa #nobleflower #marlene mckinnon #i need to find a title asap #so i can make a tag #fic: delicate

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vidalinav · 1 year

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If I wrote good smut I would be writing an acotar au where Nesta actually does decide to hit the brothels to “provide” for her sisters or at least to get rid of one mouth to feed. All of the other plot though would stay relatively the same. So when Feyre does come back with the IC in tow, Cassian meets that Nesta. That feisty as shit, takes no shit from any man, male or otherwise, where she’s also well-versed in how to get what she wants and to make the most money. She’s got the brain of a court lady and the skills of a courtesan, so she’s very popular.

She’d probably have the same vibes as acosf Nesta though where she likes sex and I’d probably paint the brothel as more woman choice focused and less exploitative, but that’s just me not wanting to write so much angst. I’d also go the route of discussing mating and marriage and the roles they play in this society, where Nesta thinks that she’s not going to be able to get married now based on the traditionalist views of humans and that she’s accepted this even likes it--that now she has her own money, that’s she’s earned and there’s not one person on this earth who can tell her what to do with her body, her money, or her mind. But Fae, as y’all know, have a very lax view on sex and Nesta can do whatever she wants with her body, as long as that’s what she wants to do with her body and not just because it’s the only thing keeping her fed and clothed. Cassian, I think would take on that perspective because I wouldn’t write him being judgy about her choices, in that regard anyways.

Because he’s also like... I’m going to kill any man who touches you. I’d probably have him like visiting the estate and Nesta being like someone just threatened my clients and another person paid for my time in spades and they never showed and it would be Cassian who did both those things. She would know it was him too, and Cassian would be like I have no idea what you’re talking about. He would get so irate thinking of her with another person, though, and Nesta would use this, goading at him to admit what he’s done.

Mostly, I would want them to hook up as human Nesta and fae Cassian because that’s my bread and butter. That’s the dream. Again, it would fall in the similar vein as acosf Nesta so it would be casual and Nesta would be like pay me for my time and that’s the only way she’ll start this relationship, because she doesn’t want it to be serious and she knows it just might be if there’s no agreement between them. It basically gives her what she wants without the icky emotional attachment lol, because she does want Cassian. She has the hots for him.

I think it would also make it more fun too then when she becomes fae, because I would so be using that same MO for any thing that the IC want Nesta to do or even helping Eris in some way. She’d be like what’s the difference between working in a brothel and working for Rhys? And then she’d be like oh I know! I choose to work at the brothel, I didn’t choose to be fae or come here. She’d be bratty of course and quick witted but that’s just how I always write Nesta. That’s my fave Nesta. And Eris would be like I won’t pay you for sex... unless you want... but I’ll pay you to help me kill my father and set up a trap and she’d be like buy me land and we’ll see how much I’ll play along.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fanfic idea #vidalinav writes fanfic ideas

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bountyhaunter · 2 months

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Outside the Keep PARTIES: Emilio @mortemoppetere and Daiyu @bountyhaunter SUMMARY: Emilio bumps into Daiyu while investigating. CONTENT WARNINGS: Abuse (hunter), sibling death (past), lots of talk about inhumane imprisonment

If he was going to break into a facility full of supernatural prisoners and stage a prison break, he was going to make sure he didn’t get anyone who didn’t deserve to bleed out killed in the process. That was a fairly important aspect to this whole ordeal, the kind of thing that Emilio wanted to be sure of. He’d fucked up with this kind of thing before, had freed Joy’s supernatural captives without thinking, and it hadn’t ended particularly well for anyone involved. So… he was going to do it right this time. He was going to… research, or whatever. He was, at the very least, going to plan his way in before actually doing the breaking and entering part.

The blueprints the necromancer had given him were a good start, but Emilio knew he needed to see the place in person. He needed to observe the shift changes, needed to determine when the best time to stage a break-in might be. He was quiet as he strolled the perimeter, forcing himself to take strides that were uncomfortable with his bad leg but quieter than dragging it behind him the way he normally did. Four steps this way. Guard at the door, but he’s on his phone. Looks like he’s got a radio — need to take him down before he can use it. Nonlethal — he might not know what he’s doing.

It was a quiet narration, an echo in his mind. He was into it, but not so much that he lost sight of the area around him. If anything, he was hyperaware of his surroundings when he was like this. Aware enough, it turned out, to recognize the strides of the person moving towards the building from just outside the shadow where he was standing.

He hesitated a moment. If he’d seen her a while ago, when all they did was bicker online without any real understanding, he would have just let her go in unbothered. But now, after their last interaction… He snaked out a hand to stop her. “Daiyu,” he whispered, trying to catch her attention without catching anyone else’s. “Hey.”

—

It had been a fair while since she’d moved up in the Good Neighbors and was now part of Winnifred’s inner circle. Daiyu did not try to think too much about what it meant, what it made of her. When she did think of it, she thought of it in terms of how those around – and still away – from her would think of it. Her father would think Winnifred a foolish woman with a heart that bled in a way he could exploit, and so would her sister. They’d think keeping the creatures alive just to lock them away a waste — would suggest further action. Experimentation. Selling parts. Selling whole things. Pitting them against each other.

They’d call her a bleeding heart, too. A stupid little girl, for falling in with something like the Good Neighbors. Enticed by that notion, by the idea of goodness. Hunters were born to protect, but the Volkovs knew better than that. You didn’t get rich through protection. And though Daiyu was making a buck off her work, it was nowhere near what she could be earning.

But she kept at it. There was always conflict to find in anything she did, so this was no different. She went out into town and the forest and took out the creatures, shifters and monsters that plagued the town. She tried to remember she was savings lives. Only taking out those that should be. That had earned it. She collected her money and didn’t worry about rent any more. She slept in a soft bed with a new duvet. She was fine.

Sometimes, when she went to the Keep to do a shift there, she brought along a bit of brain or blood she’d gotten off a kill she’d done for another bounty. She slipped the gore to angry vampires or zombies and did not think about the implications.

She was scheduled again today. Scheduled, as if she had a fucking job. And in a way, that was what it was, wasn’t it? Some people worked for mega corporations. She worked for Winnifred, who made really good hot chocolate and who was doing something good. Daiyu moved to the Keep with a backpack slung over one shoulder, her car abandoned a few miles back in the name of security. She was unsuspecting and not thinking about the implications of the ziplock bag with an aufhocker brain and so when someone’s hand appeared from a dark corner.

Daiyu responded as she was trained to, smacking the hand aside with a flat palm and getting ready to pounce. But it was just a whisper, and a familiar face. Emilio Cortez. A liar, a slayer, a dog owner, a saver of her life, but only on a technicality. “What. The. Fuck.” She pushed him back into the shadow. “What are you doing here?”

—

She slapped his hand aside, and he’d been expecting that. He pulled back before she could slap anything else, before she could do any kind of damage. He studied her carefully, tried to work out why she was here. At first, he thought she might have the same goal he did, but it was a notion he quickly pushed aside. Since his tenure in Wicked’s Rest, since his softening, he’d met only a handful of other hunters who thought the way he thought. Kaden, whose philosophy seemed close to Emilio’s even if they still disagreed on parts of it. Andy, who gave up hunting altogether and didn’t seem to regret it in the slightest. But other than that? Jade still thought of the undead in much the same way Emilio had prior to the massacre and his uncle’s hand in it, even if she was more open to supernatural creatures with beating hearts. Rhett probably would have ended up killing him if Ophelia hadn’t come along and shifted things just enough for him to make an exception for Emilio’s failures. Parker, Owen… every other hunter in this town seemed to be, at least on some level, what a hunter ought to be.

He didn’t know Daiyu well enough to think she was much different. He’d met her twice now, in two different scenarios, and he trusted her only a hair more than he might a complete stranger. But he knew she didn’t hunt indiscriminately. He knew she took bounties, and didn’t have much interest in things outside of them. He knew he’d never seen her hunting a sentient beast, never heard her talk about them in a way that sent up red flags. He knew that he didn’t have a lot of allies here, and that the information the necromancer gave him was good but not enough. He knew that Daiyu was walking towards the Keep with a purpose, and not being stealthy enough for that purpose to feasibly be the same as his. He knew that Daiyu could be swayed, too. She was stubborn — maybe even as stubborn as he was — but not immovable. If money was what she was after, Emilio could get that. He still had a fairly sizable chunk of the cash Levi had given him stuffed into his mattress, and it wasn’t like he was using it. He could buy Daiyu out, if it came down to it.

So… either he’d gain an ally here, or he’d get himself killed. It was a coin toss. But Emilio had never minded gambling so long as his own life was the thing on the table.

“Thought I’d go for a walk,” he replied dryly. “See the town, visit the prison for supernaturals. Real tourist destination, you know. On all the maps.” He kept his voice low and quiet, careful not to attract any attention from anyone else. Meeting her eye, he grimaced slightly. Heads or tails. Fifty fifty. Here we go. “Caught a case. Client has a friend who got grabbed outside her apartment. Tracked her here.” He nodded towards the building. “I looked into it. I didn’t like what I found.” He paused, tapping his finger against his knee. “I’m breaking it open. And I could use some help.”

—

The Good Neighbors practiced in the shadows. This was a no-brainer that even Daiyu could get behind. It was how hunters operated too, after all. Flaunt your position as a human who chased and killed creatures with supernatural powers and you might as well paint a target on your back. (She was not very good at not doing this — though she understood the need for secrecy she was a very bad practitioner of it, in part because she was a horrible liar and in another part because she had little impulse control.)

It was troubling that Emilio was here. That he was lurking in a shadow around the Keep when he was decidedly not involved with the organization it housed. She’d know if he was, right? Someone would have told her. Right? It wouldn’t be unprecedented that she was left in the dark about something, but in this case she would have been told, if another hunter had been added to the team. Yes. Certainly. Winnifred would have informed her of it. So then why was Emilio here, if he wasn’t part of the team? Her face was filled with suspicion that only got affirmed when the slayer spoke.

Daiyu wanted to knee him in the groin for a short moment and run away. It would be a good temporary solution to this problem he was throwing her way — the knowledge that he was planning on causing trouble for the Keep and the organization that kept it filled. The judgment he passed against the place he called a prison. It was the latter she grappled with most, the moral conundrum that Emilio was offering her by pointing out the flaws of the place. He was going to make her think about the implications with words like these and Daiyu didn’t want to.

“Your client’s friend probably grabbed or bit or ate a few people herself,” she said coolly. Or at least, she tried to sound cool. Like she wasn’t going to have a long think about whatever was about to transpire. Like she never ever lost sleep over kills or kidnappings. “What, you don’t like dangerous supernatural individuals being separated from the people in our town so they can’t eat, drain or bite ‘em? Weird. I think I remember you killing a vampire not too long ago.” She moved her weight from one leg to the other. “Breaking … it … open … yes, sure, explain to me why that’s a good idea, wiseass.”

—

Emilio wasn’t much of a planner. For most of his life, he’d let other people do that. His mother called the shots when she was alive, pointing him in whatever direction she believed he needed to go. As they got older, Rosa did much of the same, primed to take over as head of the family when it was her turn. (It would never be her turn now.) The only planning Emilio had ever really attempted was his desperate hope to get Flora away from a life he didn’t want for her, and how had that ended? His only real attempt at a plan had ended with everyone he’d ever loved dead. Didn’t that say all that needed saying about his skills there?

But… He wanted to be better. He wanted to plan something that worked, wanted to help people instead of hurting them. He didn’t always have to be a blade, did he? He could be something else, something better. For Nora, who needed that now more than ever. For Wynne, who’d always been given so much less than what they deserved. For Teddy, who was never as happy as they pretended to be. They all wanted him to be better for himself, and he knew that. But if he couldn’t manage it, if he still couldn’t quite see himself as a person instead of a thing, wasn’t it all right if he tried to be better for them instead? Wasn’t being better the thing that mattered more?

This could be a step, he thought. A step towards something that was more than a weapon, even if it was still something less than a man. He could help people here. He thought of Zane, who’d really only needed a steadying hand. He thought of Metzli, who’d been good the moment they had the choice to do so. Some of these people might belong here, but from what he could tell, Raisa’s friend didn’t. That had to mean there were others who didn’t, too.

“Come on, Daiyu,” he said lowly. “Even if she did, is this the way to deal with it? If someone’s a problem, you take them out. I support that. I do that. But sticking them in a cage…” The thought made his throat go dry, made his mind go back to that goddamn shed, made his palms sweat. “It’s fucked up. What’s the endgame here?” Human prisons were fucked enough, but at least they maintained the illusion of attempting to reintegrate prisoners into society, even if that wasn’t the reality. Emilio had a feeling this particular prison didn’t share the same views. Letting someone rot in a cage for the rest of their days was so much worse than just killing them. “Explain to me why it’s a good idea to keep them locked up. You really believe it’s right?” He paused for a moment, eyes darting to her duffel. “What’s in there?” There was no reason for her to bring a lot of supplies here. Emilio had a feeling whatever she had was for something she thought was important inside. He was going out on a limb here, but he hoped it’d pay off.

—

When she’d been ten, her father had taken her down the back of the estate, where spare and broken down cars were stored and there was a place like the Keep. Not as big, not as well-hidden (and yet just as protected), but made with a similar purpose. A holding place. Never for long, but it was the same. Barred rooms, locks that clicked and humanoid creatures that looked enraged, desperate, exhausted or all three at once. Daiyu did not remember a lot of her youth, but she remembered that day. His hand on her shoulder, almost paternal, and then in her neck as her eyes trailed away. Fingers digging in the soft skin behind her ears, palm pressing against the vertebrae in her neck. He’d reminded her: they are not human. He barely had to say it for her to remember that lesson. He’d filled her hands with buckets, had made her carry them down to the wild wolves. They had been heavy, but she’d been training for years by then. She managed. She placed the buckets down. Water. Raw meat. They are not human.

They called themselves hunters, her family, but they were more like poachers or smugglers at times. Cutting deals with researchers and magic users that lift on the fray of morality, selling them parts of if not full shifter corpses. There were the fights, the vicious displays of beast on beast violence. Not as organized as the fighting ring she’d visited – or so she guessed, at least – but similar. Similar enough to turn a profit.

She didn’t participate in it any more. She could not give up hunting — that was a step too far, but she could stop being part of that side of the family business. She could pretend she’d stopped feeling that hand in her neck. She could stop.

She had stopped — right?

She wasn’t a complete fool. She knew that the Good Neighbors were something sinister. She knew it because she collected spare bits of gore for the undead creatures in the Keep. She knew because she made some portions bigger. She knew because she felt her appetite dissipate after every visit of that place with bars. She knew every time she got her paycheck, every time she bought stuff with that paycheck, every time she was put on a job. She knew. Even if Winnifred made it hard, sometimes, because she seemed so sure they were doing the right thing. She was so passionate. She made fruitcake that tasted surprisingly good and organized community meetings and seemed so good. And it was nice, to not be stained with blood every time she fulfilled a hunt, but was it worth it? Was it worth those eyes behind bars?

Emilio was speaking and she grit her teeth, his words piercing through the paper thin haze with which she surrounded herself. She knew. She knew she was repeating patterns. She knew that it was best to make the kill quick and clean. Drawing out the suffering was what her father did (in cases like this, he’d grip her neck too and make her watch, or stick a silver knife in her hand and make her help). She looked away from the slayer but it didn’t matter if she stared into the distance, gaze hardening. He was pressing his thumbs on all her sore spots, knew where to find the bruises, knew what to look at. He’d said he was a detective and when he pointed out her duffel he proved his skill in sniffing things out.

Finally her gaze fell back onto him. “Food.” It was said curtly. “For.” She finished the sentence there. She wanted to punch something. Him, maybe. “It’s blood and brains, for your type of monster. Yeah? Locally sourced. From — beasts.” She grit her teeth. “I don’t know, man. I don’t make the plans. I just do … what they want me to.” What kind of bullshit excuse was that? When had Daiyu Volkova ever done what was asked of her? “I’m figuring it out, okay? It’s none of your business.” She glowered at him, feeling exposed. “You put ‘em in to the world again and this town’s going to shit.”

—

He could see the doubt dancing across her features. It was a slow thing, with swaying, uncertain steps and disjointed, harsh notes of music. What was she thinking, in this moment? Was it familiar? Emilio thought back to Mexico, to the way uncertainty had been a cold shadow that clung to his intestines and slithered up his throat. How soon after the first domino fell did the rest tumble to follow?

Rosa told him once, only a few short months after Victor’s death, that you couldn’t be half a hunter. She’d seen Emilio’s uncertainty the same way he was seeing Daiyu’s now, had felt his doubt as if it were living in her gut, too. Everything after Victor’s death had been so unbalanced, and part of him had wondered, even then, what it was worth. He’d had a brother, and then he hadn’t. Victor had been a person, and then he’d been a name scarcely whispered, a lesson Emilio wasn’t sure how to learn. Victor had done what he was supposed to do, but why was he supposed to do it? For a little while, Emilio had let his anger ask questions that his mind knew were off limits, and only Rosa had known him well enough to recognize them.

You can’t be half a hunter, she’d told him, her eyes hard. You’re all in, or you’re useless. And there’s no reason to keep a useless thing around, Milio. I know you know that. And he had. He’d known that whatever his family gave him was a conditional thing, and it had made sense. You didn’t keep broken tools or dull blades around for sentiment. You threw them out or you sharpened them. And since Emilio didn’t want to be thrown out, he had allowed himself to be sharpened. He’d let himself strike against a whetstone over and over and over again, eating away at the parts of him that were dull, at the doubts.

It wasn’t until years later when, looking down at his daughter’s sleeping face, he’d wondered whether some things shouldn’t be conditional. He’d have loved Flora if she were a hunter, and he’d have loved her if she wasn’t one. The doubt came back, it hollowed him out, it left him empty. It was easier, he thought, not to question things. It made life simpler, made it make more sense. Doubt crept in and left you breathless in the moments when you most needed to breathe, and wasn’t it cruel to knock the wind out of someone? Wasn’t it a cheap trick to use in a fight?

Still, he kept his eyes on Daiyu. He watched that doubt curl fingers around her throat, and he made no move to pry them off. What did it mean, to sit by and watch someone be strangled? Was it a kindness or a cruelty to force someone to face things they’d clearly been avoiding? He thought of Rosa again, and he thought that some questions were better left unanswered.

“Yeah.” He looked at the duffel bag again, pleased that his hunch had been correct. He hadn’t put the doubt there. Did that absolve him of the sin of feeding it? Did that make him better? He didn’t think so. He doubted Daiyu would, either. “It’s my business when people pay to make it my business. And that means it’s my business now.” He wondered what other kinds of people were locked away inside the walls of this building. Were there bugbears, like Nora? The thought of her getting caught up in something like this, after everything, made his chest ache. “This town’s already gone to shit. If we let these people out and they make it worse, I’ll take care of that. I like my chances. I’m not asking you to help with clean up. I just need you to get me in the door.”

—

The notion had crept into her head again when she’d first heard of the neighborhood initiative from another hunter. The idea that she could do something good. Winifred had seemed so driven, the humans she went on patrol with so dedicated to their neighbors, the targets she took out truly threats onto the people in town. Daiyu had felt it for a while, that foreign concept — goodness. She was helping to keep a town safe, offering her skills to make sure humans could live in continued ignorance without being turned into meals or victims of a ‘freak accident’.

But it had become twisted, hadn’t it? Not when she’d first heard of the Keep, but when she’d visited it that first time. When she’d seen the bars and the creatures behind them. The human sides of the creatures. The side she didn’t tend to see when she was out in the woods and hunting, the side that had human pleading eyes and a mouth that could tug at that heart she’d been condemned for since youth. Every time she came there she’d tried to remember all the people she had saved, that these were preventative measures to keep murderous creatures from wreaking more havoc. She’d tried to remember what Winifred had said about how many people would thank her if she knew. She forcefully remembered how her father looked at the concept of goodness. It was an empty thing, a performance, a soft pillow people created for themself so they could sleep at night. It was something that held you back while also being meaningless.

So maybe it didn’t matter, that this ‘goodness’ didn’t feel good. Maybe Daiyu could never know what goodness looked like, anyway. Maybe the concept was not for her or anyone, really. Maybe she just saw through the illusion, her gaze hardened through her training. It wasn’t like she was desensitized against the sight of creatures in cages – that was the whole fucking problem – but she had found ways to cope with the internal struggle. Maybe goodness didn’t exist, so why should she try?

At some point she’d started bringing in food though. Not human food – they did supply that themself, at the Keep – but the kind of food that fit into an unorthodox diet. Blood, brains. Daiyu hadn’t even thought too much about it when she’d done it. She’d just killed a smaller beast and noted bits of brain sticking out and she’d used her hunting knife to take parts of it. Later she’d added ziplock freezer bags to her arsenal, collecting stray bits of flesh and blood for the undead in the Keep. It was waste, anyway.

Was that goodness? No, it couldn’t be. It was violence that benefited another. It was just another spoke on the wheel of that endless cycle of violence.

Emilio was somewhere on that wheel too. And maybe that was where they existed. Them, the hunters, as well as the creatures in the Keep. On that ever rolling wheel of violence so that ignorant humans could live in safety. (But they were not good either — they also wielded violence — they also —)

“So what, you’re doing this for money?” She couldn’t really judge. She was doing this for money. And the distant notion of goodness that was slipping from her grasp with every visit to this prison. Daiyu pushed Emilio further into the shadows, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt the kind of confusion that often ended with her breaking something and storming off. This was not a situation where she could break a nose and get away, though. Even she recognized that. “Not here, okay? This chat, not fucking here.”

Her head was spinning. She really did want to punch something, herself included. Daiyu bristled. She knew that as far as good things go, this was not one of them. Letting the people rot in jail cells, watching them starve on rations, taking them out of the equation but not definitively. Didn’t she try to be merciful in her kills? To not draw it out like she’d been taught?

She had been looking for an out, but an out would mean putting on blinders and turning her back. An out meant the wheel would keep rolling and rolling and never stop. An out would mean the vampire called Johnny – she’d learned their names, which didn’t help – would not receive her snicker-snacker blood rations any more. An out would also not be doing something good. An out would mean running and the rock of shame in her stomach growing heavier. But this —

“You’re doing this, then?” He was. She didn’t know Emilio that well, but he seemed like a stubborn fuck. “I could help. I thought this — you have to –” She frowned, not sure why she was trying to convince Emilio that she wasn’t rotten. “I hate cages. I’ll get you … I can get you in. Not today.”

—

Was he doing this for money? Emilio wasn’t really sure. There were other cases, easier ways to get paid. Technically speaking, he’d already solved the case Raisa brought to him, already found the answers she’d asked for. He’d been hired to find her friend, not save her, and he’d done that. He could give her a location, could walk away without consequence, and it would be fine. He’d done his part, he’d fulfilled his promise. But the very thought of leaving things as they were felt so unfinished that it turned his stomach just a little. Were answers enough when you could give someone more than that?

Maybe it was an inevitable side effect of the way Axis’s cases usually ended. More often than not, someone hired him to find their friend or their family member or their lover and Emilio returned to them with a corpse or an ending they didn’t want to hear. In this town, it was so rare to find a missing person in one piece. Maybe his determination to break Raisa’s friend out of the prison she’d been put into was a way of coping with that, a way of convincing himself that he was still someone capable of helping people. After all, hadn’t his track record as of late been a long line of failures, one after another? He couldn’t save the people he loved, and he couldn’t save strangers, either. Would breaking free the prisoners in this facility absolve him of that? Would it make him a better person? He didn’t think anything could.

But it might make him feel better for a moment or two. There might be the briefest sense of accomplishment to be found with it, the quietest heartbeat of relief. Maybe Emilio was digging his heels in here for the same reason he spent most of the money he made on cheap whiskey to pour down his throat. Maybe everything he did was some desperate attempt at escape.

Did it matter? That was the question he focused on now. Did it matter why he was doing it? He was doing it. That was the important thing. With Daiyu’s help or without it, Emilio was going into that facility and opening those cages. He had the information the necromancer had given him, outdated and incomplete as it was. He was a lot less likely to survive the attempt without someone on the inside helping him out, but that didn’t matter. The result was more important than the risk. He knew that.

Daiyu pushed him back into the shadows, and Emilio let her. He didn’t think she’d rat him out, at least, even if she wouldn’t help him. She didn’t fully believe in what she was doing here. The question was whether or not she believed it little enough to help him dismantle what she’d helped build.

“I’m doing this,” he confirmed. “One way or another.”

The world seemed to stand still while he waited for her to speak again, only returning to spin on its axis when the words tumbled out. Uncertain, jumbled, but enough to know that it was what he’d wanted to hear. I could help. He had to bite back a sigh of relief. “Not today,” he confirmed, a little reluctant. “But soon. We need to move soon. Before they know we’re planning anything.” He didn’t trust the necromancer not to offer up a word of warning, even if they had been quick to turn on their partners.

—

These foreign concepts – to want to do good, to want to help – did not fit Daiyu. They were like a jacket she’d borrowed of a person better than her that she tried to wear convincingly even if she could not pull it off. But what kind of coat would fit her well? It seemed she always struggled with most identities that came with being a hunter. She could not be the sadistic type, like her father and sister. She could not be the heroic one, striving for a safer world for humanity and speaking of duty. She could not be the good neighbor, putting people in cages and thinking it goodness. She fell short every time.

That was why she enjoyed the simplicity of bounty hunting. It allowed her to not think of such things. She was a bounty hunter, like a character in an old western, someone motivated by posters and other people’s assignments. Moved by money, but only the amount she needed to make it through her days.

She was not just a bounty hunter any more, though. She was a good neighbor, an inner circle member. And now she was talking to someone hoping to infiltrate the place that housed a wide range of supernatural creatures, wanting to do what exactly? If she were a more calculated person she’d be asking Emilio about his full intent, but at present Daiyu was just trying to control her urge to destroy something.

Later, she’d said. Later, after she’d gathered her thoughts, after she’d driven off with her car with her music so loud her ears would ring all night, after she’d been able to hit her steering wheel a few times. Later, when she wasn’t so close to the Keep as she was now.

But she knew that if this was going to happen – and it would, judging off Emilio’s expression – she’d be all in. Daiyu did hate cages. She did hate the looks on the faces of some the people in them. She did not feel right or good. She was already making tiny waves against Winifred and the other members, smuggling in things and smuggling out messages. Emilio offered allyship.

Also she’d really hate to see him get caught up in the fray. But that wasn’t something she was going to say to him.

“Alright,” she said. “Then … I should go in, to get my shift done. To get …” She gestured at her duffel. “This in. I’ll … I can get us an overview of what we’re dealing with, alright? So you know what you might be walking into.” Kirk, Johnny, all the other creatures with names and lethal abilities and dreams and body counts and loved ones. A werewolf who’d killed three people in one night, a vampire who’d left a trail of student bodies, a lamia who kept the bones of the people she ate, a zombie with a taste for blonde’s brains. What made a good person? Was it the person who locked monsters up or the one who killed them quickly and quietly? Was it the person who released them because it was right, but who would put a town at risk?

Everything always confirmed the same thing to her. There was no goodness. There was just failed attempts at it. “Can’t be just us, either. We’re too few.” And though she was sure that Emilio and her could raise quite a lot of hell, she also knew what they were up against. “But fine. Soon.”

—

When he was a kid, things had been black and white. There were monsters and there were people and there was a clear line of humanity between the two. His mother made sure he understood it bit by bit, carved hints and cheat sheets into his skin so that he wouldn’t forget. She showed him how monstrous monstrous things could be, let them prove their danger to him with teeth and claws. And it made sense, back then. Everything seemed to fit together like a puzzle, pieces all perfectly aligned.

And then he had a daughter. He had a little girl with hands too small to grip the hilt of a knife and eyes that looked like his. And he couldn’t fathom carving those hints into her skin, couldn’t bear the thought of sending her teeth and claws and letting monsters prove themselves to be monstrous. He had a daughter, and it was monsters who killed her but it was a hunter who had caused it. She had been so small, but her presence in the world was so monumental that its sudden absence turned the universe on its head.

The world wasn’t black and white anymore; Emilio knew now that it never really had been. There were monsters and there were people, but humanity didn’t separate them. Sometimes, the monsters had beating hearts and dull teeth. They stared at you from behind the mirror, or they carried your blood in their veins. And sometimes, the people looked like the things you’d been taught to hate. They had still chests and inhuman blood in their veins, but you still ached when you freed them from vans or offered them a drink.

There were monsters in those cages. Emilio had no doubt of that. There were awful things who had caused irreversible damage thrashing against the bars and banging on the walls and he knew it. Emilio understood, better than anyone, that some monsters needed to be put down. But there were, inevitably, people in those cages, too. Some of the ones locked away might not deserve to be. Even the monsters, he thought, might not deserve to be locked away. Death was kinder. Some of them would probably agree with that.

So Emilio would do what needed doing, and maybe Daiyu would help him. Maybe he’d feel better about himself after, or maybe he’d feel worse. It was hard to know the difference, sometimes. It was hard to know what to strive for. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, nodded his head. “Get me more information,” he agreed, “and we’ll figure it out from there.”

She was right, too, that they’d need more manpower. Emilio hated the idea, but he knew it was an inevitable thing. “I have a friend who might help,” he said reluctantly. He felt bad already at the idea of pulling someone else into his mess, but… what else could he do here? If he went at it alone and got himself killed, that was one thing. But if he got Daiyu killed, too, and the people in those cages… wouldn’t that be worse? “And… someone else who might help. They told me where this place is. Don’t know how much I trust them, but might be useful.” The necromancer was someone he needed to keep a close eye on, whatever that looked like. “Get the plans, and we’ll all get together. Meet up, talk it out.” Someone had to be better at thinking ahead than Emilio… and Daiyu, he suspected. Hunters weren’t known for their strategizing.

—

So they were coming to an agreement. Daiyu was going to go behind the Good Neighbor’s backs and offer Emilio inside information to conspire against them. She felt her stomach sink, felt a queasy kind of rush pass through her. She wasn’t sure if she was a loyal person by nature or not, but it was still strange to know she was bound to become a traitor now. Would this role fit her, if none of the others did?

Questions of morality were often discarded by her, as they were too intrusive even if they were thought alone and by herself. She could not start to think about goodness in a way that really mattered without starting to undo her foundations, without drowning in the guilt and shame that lingered within. So Daiyu kept moving as she did, chasing down monsters, beasts and shifters and undoing their heads from their bodies after (or sometimes during) killing them. She joined this neighborhood watch in the hope that she could keep humans safe, but in stead found herself smuggling blood so she could breathe easier. And now she was aiming to betray it all, which would lead to more bloodshed.

It was like being a child once more, refusing to give into the demand of violence and being pushed and pushed and pushed until she brandished her knife and committed the atrocities demanded of her bloodline. There was no escaping it, the violence. And so maybe this was better. To side with Emilio. To bring down this prison. To kill swiftly and mercifully. To return to just hunting bounties and not think about the rest of it.

She glared at the slayer, because she needed to glare at something. “Fine. Deal.” She was thinking about her other fellow members of this little inner circle and wasn’t sure if any of them would be possible to recruit. And she wasn’t made for this, was she? Infiltration, scheming, lying. It was fine when she was a lone wolf, but to find allies wasn’t her strength.

“Cool. I’ll think about whoever I can ask,” she said, knowing she’d come up short. Daiyu would try, though, so that was something. She was too caught up in her inner ruminations to wonder who had told Emilio where this place was, her hands still itching with the desire to punch something. She wasn’t sure how to tolerate this precipice they were standing on, now. She’d never been known for her patience. “I’ll text you my number. And we’ll recoup elsewhere. Best get running now, yeah?” She didn’t want him – even if he was annoying and a liar and much too tall – to get in trouble.

#something good.#good neighbors.#threads.#emilio.

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