#not to mention some... relationship developments

[biblicallyaccuratemeat]

Satin

Part 1

MDNI!!

A/N: Wow the long awaited part two to Velveteen. I had to basically put a gun to my head to finish this :') I rewrote this way too many times, I'm not entirely pleased with the finished product but I WROTE THE THING!! And that will always be a victory in my book. I have yet to see Thunderbolts* because I have absolutely no time to go to the movies but!! When I do see it, get ready babes, I will be unstoppable. UM anyway, thanks to @ethanhoewke as always for being insane with me and helping me flesh this out, ily babe. Bucky Barnes x female reader, morning after, morning sex, oral sex (fem receiving), developing relationship, fluff & smut, Bucky recovering from being the WS, two dumbass cutie pies being horny or whatever <3

ALSO!!! If anyone wants to blow up my inbox with some Bucky requests, please do! I love writing for this 100 year old emotionally repressed fossil <3

Word count: 4.2k

Too bright. Way too fucking bright. The golden morning sunshine is searing through your blinds, drawing a whine of protest from your throat. It’s too early, that much is clear to you. Far too early to be awake. You almost want to hiss at the sun like a cartoon vampire being awoken from an eternal slumber. Shifting in the bed, trying to get your wits about you, two things become abundantly clear to you. One, you’re sore. Like, really fucking sore, like you got hit by a small bus or thrown through a brick wall. Two, there is without a doubt a man in bed next to you. Your foot brushes across a sleep-warm, hairy calf under the sheets. You can’t bear to open your eyes, opting to keep them screwed shut against the sun’s laser-like light and the fact that Bucky definitely stayed the night. 

With a deep breath, you peek one eye open, turning your head to the side. Your eye lands on Bucky, face down on a fluffy pink pillow, snoring like a goddamn chainsaw. His stupidly handsome face is squished into the cotton, brow furrowed like he’s personally affronted by your choice in bedding. One of his arms is thrown haphazardly across your middle and— holy fuck, his arms are fucking huge. Were they that big and beefy last night?! Surely, you’d remember biceps that fucking large. Your eyes hungrily rove over the tan, scarred flesh. God, he’s delicious, you’d sink your teeth into the fat and muscle right now if it wasn’t going to wake the poor man up. 

Trying oh so carefully to wiggle free from Bucky’s heavy, comforting weight, you reach blindly for your phone. Hand rooting and tapping uselessly along your side table, knocking just about every other item over in the process before your fingertips finally find purchase on it. You swipe it off the table, holding it up and squinting as you read the time. Half past eight, okay, that’s not too early. However, you choose the wrong time to squirm again. Bucky grunts in his sleep, his arm binding tighter around your waist and all but dragging you into his side. 

A surprised squeak bubbles past your lips, you tense up, scarcely allowing yourself to breathe. Who knew he was such a cuddle bug? So, you allow yourself to melt into it a little, because you honestly can’t recall the last time someone held you like this (not to mention after a night of ravenous fucking…)

Your phone, now lying on the mattress next to your hip, buzzes. You snatch it up quickly, hoping that it didn't stir the man next to you. You’re not ready for this impromptu cuddle session to be cut short. 

Girl are you dead?

Oh my god, we’re gonna be on Dateline! Talking about how great of a friend she was and I’ll have to cry on camera and wail about how she didn’t deserve this!! She was too young!!

Your friends are nothing if not dramatic and incessantly nosy. You love them though, like scruffy dogs you pick up from the pound that nobody else really wanted because they honestly seem kind of feral. With one hand, you quickly type out a reply, rolling your eyes at the theatrics of your group of gremlins. Your other hand, because you just can’t help yourself, absentmindedly cards through Bucky’s unfairly thick and soft hair. 

I’m not dead and I wouldn’t want you in my Dateline episode anyway, bitch.

The replies come immediately, in rapid succession, absolutely blowing up the group chat.

Holy fuck!! She lives!!

How did the date go? Did you finally dust those cobwebs out of your pussy? Or rather, did he? 

That’s a horrific visual, though you have to give Faye points for creativity. You’re not even entirely sure how to respond to that, because yes it had been awhile, but it hadn’t been that long. Words are failing you in this moment honestly, so you resort to the most damning option of all. With a trembling hand, you hold your phone a few scant inches above Bucky’s clueless, sleep-slack face. The photo is avant-garde level art. They should hang this shit up in the Louvre or paste it on billboards across the country. The Hello Kitty pillowcase, the strong line of Bucky’s nose buried in the fabric. The way his dark lashes create little spiderweb shadows on his usually so serious, broody face. He’s an angel, plain and simple. Cast down from the heavens to torture you and fuck you better, deeper than any of your ex-boyfriends did. Before you can second guess yourself, you send the photo to the group chat, shoving it under your pillow before you can see the immediate replies.

Buzz…buzz…buzz…

Your canine digs into your lower lip, biting back an exasperated smile. Your friends are, and always have been, veritably insane. You shouldn’t have told them about the date, or the fact that said date is still in your bed, in your apartment. You should have just turned your phone off, allowing yourself to sink into this syrupy, lazy little bubble of perfection. You could get used to having this man in your bed. Absolutely.

Your phone continues its angry vibrating like a little pissed off bumblebee beneath your head. So, you let out a long suffering sigh and check the 9+ notifications awaiting you.

HELLO???

Oh my god, I want to lick that cheekbone. Do I have a cheekbone fetish guys? This is awakening something in me.

Wait a fucking minute!!! Dude, that’s the Winter Soldier. 

Okay, that certainly catches your attention, because no he isn’t…is he? Wide eyes flick between your phone screen and Bucky’s peaceful face with the speed of a caffeinated hummingbird. What did the Winter Soldier even look like? It’s vague and fuzzy in your mind like TV static. You wrack your brain, desperately trying to recall what dominated the news cycle for weeks in 2014. Captain America, Natasha Romanoff, lots of explosions and property damage… A quick google search confirms your friend’s suspicions or rather accusations. There is without a doubt an ex-sleeper agent in your bed, you fucked an ex-sleeper agent. Were you in danger? Oh god, all you had on hand was one of those cheap cans of pepper spray. The only reason you’d really bought it was because it’s sparkly and also you wanted the illusion of self-defense. What the fuck was pepper spray going to do against an assassin? He’d probably sneeze at best and then rip you apart like a rotisserie chicken.

Before you can spiral into a full blown panic attack, complete with hyperventilating and popping an Ativan or two, Bucky groans sleepily, rousing. You freeze, eyes comically wide, lips parting like a child caught with their hand in a proverbial cookie jar. But the fear, the sense of self-preservation, the whole seconds away from shitting your bed, dissipates. It melts away like tissue paper in hot water, because his eyes open and they land on you. They remind you of the sea glass you used to collect as a girl, when your parents would whisk you off to the beach and you’d carry a little bucket around and feed the seagulls corn chips even though your mother explicitly instructed you not to.  His eyes sharpen just for a moment, your anxiety spikes, you hold your breath. And then, oh god, his gaze softens and you can’t help but feel utterly besotted by the very sight.

“Did I do that to you?” Bucky murmurs, sounding absolutely delicious and raspy and gravely. You try to reshape your brain back from the goo his eyes turned it into. He’s asking you a question and you’re sitting there smiling at him like a dope. He taps the side of his neck to emphasize the query, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

Your hand immediately flies up to mirror where his rests, brushing the pads of your fingers lightly down the side of your throat. You can’t bear to break his intense gaze, it feels like divorce, but then you wince because fucking ow! You spring out of bed, stumbling to the vanity, no longer concerned about appearing graceful or effortlessly pretty first thing in the morning. 

“Oh shit,” You breathe, staring at your reflection. You look ran through, like you got passed around a frat party or something within that vein of debauchery. Mascara and that winged eyeliner you were so proud of smeared and running down your cheeks, your neck, your tits absolutely covered in a variety of hickeys, bitemarks, bruises. You look like a demented racoon who got mauled by a particularly aggressive grizzly bear. Time to lock yourself in your bathroom and do some major recon.

Ten or so minutes later, you reappear with minty-fresh teeth and a clean face. A sheepish smile spreads across your lips as you resume your seat next to Bucky, “Uh, yeah, I think you did do that to me.” You quip awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes, far too interested in fiddling with a loose thread on your fitted sheet. “I mean, obviously I liked it.” You can’t help but glance up quickly, heat burning your cheeks.

“Right,” Bucky snorts, smirking roguishly, and god you swear your pussy has butterflies. “I remember.”

“Hungry!” You blurt out, springing off the mattress, far too shy and idiotic to even attempt to carry on that particular route of conversation. “Are you hungry? I am definitely hungry! We should eat! In the kitchen.”

You attempt to smile, but it feels all wrong on your face, crooked and stilted by your own mortification at your lack of social graces. You don’t need to see the way your entire body is turning a rather unflattering shade of pink from the tips of your ears, down your chest-- you can feel it and it only worsens the matter. Bucky just huffs in amusement, a man of few words outside of rearranging your guts it seems, “Sure, doll. I’ll meet you out there.”

You all but sprint to the kitchen, eager to remove yourself from the situation before you further embarrass yourself. Thank fuck you cleaned your apartment before your date, the usual state its in would warrant entering the witness protection program if Bucky saw it. Unfortunately, you hadn’t anticipated preparing a full breakfast spread, so you find the bare bones of your pantry. Cup of noodles, a brown banana (unclear to you if it’s really ripe or hazardous), and whole milk that’s one day out from being past its expiration date. Wonderful.

“What’s for breakfast?” Bucky's voice comes from behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin, the way he snuck up on you could have very well sent you to an early grave. Definitely was an efficient assassin, you’ll give him that.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure…” You mumble, back to Bucky, acting as if you’re perusing an entire treasure trove of options. “Do you like noodles and milk?” You ask tentatively, peeking at him over your shoulder.

He blinks, seemingly unsure if you’re joking around, and if you aren’t, he has no clue how to respond.

“What type of noodles?” He asks after a moment, crossing his thick arms, leaning back against the kitchen island.

“The cup kind,” You mutter, glaring a hole into the tile.

“I’m sorry?” Buck huffs, tilting his head to the side like an adorably confused puppy, a puppy who’s had over two dozen confirmed kills.

“Um,” You lick your lips, your mouth feeling suddenly bone dry, an explanation sticking to the roof of your mouth like bubblegum, “You know, cup of noodles? It’s like, a styrofoam cup and there’s ramen in it with seasoning. You put hot water in it… the, uh, packaging actually says not to microwave it, but who listens to that anyw--”

Your lame little rambling is cut off by the gentle pressure of Bucky’s lips slotting against yours, his large hands cupping your face, holding you like you’re the most precious, delicate thing in the world. You melt, your train of thought fizzling out into goo, so you press up onto your tiptoes, eagerly returning the kiss. Bucky starts to move away, but you spring forward, chasing his lips, whining like the needy little thing you are. 

He chuckles, lips barely brushing yours, murmuring, “So you have noodles in a cup?”

“Cup of noodles,” You correct breathlessly, pupils blown wide as saucers after taking that mainline of pure Bucky.

“Tomatoe, tomato,” He snorts, slowly sweeping the pad  of his thumb down the bridge of your nose, “Are we having anything else with these noodles? A plate of broth, maybe?”

“Uh, no, just almost sour milk and if you’re really feeling brave, a very brown banana.” You’re silently planning your suicide note, because why of all the times your fridge had to be empty, it’s when Bucky is here after a night of insane sex. Sex that quite frankly, rewired your brain and probably ruined any chance of another man coming close to what Bucky made you feel.

“A very filling spread,” Bucky hums dryly, cracking a small grin. You can’t help but smile in return, your heart doing a funny little flutter. This man is going to give you a heart murmur. 

“Well, I mean, if you’re not busy…” you start, looking anywhere but at him, wringing your hands together shyly, “We could go get breakfast?”

Bucky watches you silently, thinking over your suggestion. “A second date already? Wow, you move fast.” He drawls lazily.

Your face is on fire as you desperately start to back track, “Oh! Um, I mean, you don’t have to! You can leave! I won’t hold you hostage or force you to get breakfast with me. I just thought maybe it would be better than risking it with the banana.”

Buck chuckles, stepping forward, entering your personal space. He still smells like smoke and cinnamon even after a night in your ultra-femme sheets. The rough pad of his finger slips under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. His eyes are the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced, guarded yet so expressive at the same time. 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, doll. Relax.” He whispers, voice silky and deep. There’s a moment, it’s so brief, so fleeting, you almost don’t catch it. The walls lower for a heartbeat, and Bucky asks so achingly soft, “Was… last night good for you?”

You can’t help but freeze, because is he seriously asking you that? Bucky interprets your silence as a bad thing, his face falling subtly, he shifts on his feet, taking a step backwards that feels like a mile. 

“No! No, I had an amazing time last night. You were amazing,” You blurt out, hands shooting up to gesture wildly. 

Bucky’s relief is a tangible thing, his shoulders lowering, the crease in his brow smoothing out. “Oh, good. I’m glad, I don’t…” he clears his throat, running his vibranium hand through his cropped hair, “I don’t usually do this.” He admits, gesturing vaguely around your apartment, “The whole sex on the first date, spending the night thing.”

The butterflies in your stomach break out into a spontaneous synchronized swimming routine. And you can feel your blood rush to your cheeks and then lower, much lower. It’s flattering, the way he confesses that he doesn’t do this and apparently you’re an exception to his vintage dating etiquette. Though, you’re almost certain there definitely would be a rule in there about not leaving your partner looking like they got mauled by an angry vacuum cleaner.

Not that you’re complaining…

So, you laugh nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I hope I didn’t make you feel pressured or anything.”

Bucky snorts— the man actually snorts, at that statement, as if it’s the funniest joke he’s heard in a long time. “A little thing like you? Pressuring me? Nah, doll, I liked it. I like you.”

Liquid sunshine spreads through your veins and you nod dumbly along with what he’s saying, “Oh, right. You, um, like me, huh?”

He steps into your space, the heat of his body seeping into yours as he gently runs a finger along the curve of your spine, “Yes, I like you. More than I probably should.” He affirms, that exploratory hand coming to rest just above the swell of your ass. It slides down, he squeezes the fat and flesh gently, as if testing the weight of it in his vibranium palm. 

“What a coincidence,” you squeak, all the finesse and coyness from the night before evaporating into the atmosphere, leaving behind your usual awkward self, “I happen to like you too. Not sure about the more than I should part. That makes it sound like I’m in danger…oh god, I’m not in danger, am I?”

Bucky silences you with a searing kiss, his criminally soft lips slotting against yours, rubbing deliciously, pulling a high pitched whine from your throat. The hand on your ass squeezes hard, grounding you, ripping you from your inward spiral. Bucky backs you up against the kitchen counter and with a strength only a super soldier could muster, he sweeps you up, depositing you to sit on the edge of the island. Your thighs part, making space for him to stand between them, and your arms loop around his neck. You deepen the kiss, arching into the hard plane of his chest, fingers threading and tugging at his hair. He groans, low and unbearably sexy, into your mouth, strong arms wrapping around your waist like a python. 

His tongue expertly delves into your mouth, tracing the sharp edges of your teeth, tasting the sleep-sweet saliva welling up beneath your tongue. Emboldened, you wrap your lips around his tongue, sucking the slick muscle, earning another delicious grunt from Bucky. His arms bind around your waist tighter, till you feel like you might pop, splattering the kitchen in one thousand shades of red. There’s barely a breath of space between your bodies, the two of you slotting together like long lost puzzle pieces, reunited at long last. It’s heaven, it’s hell, the kiss is enough, you could cum just like this. Happily, easily, and that’s more than you can say about any other man you’ve been with. 

Bucky breaks the kiss and you whine, feeling as if you might burst into tears if he stops touching you. He shushes you, sinking slowly to his knees on the kitchen tile, peering up at you through dark lashes. Hands gently pull you to the edge of the counter, as he sits back on his haunches. Bucky takes your left foot, holding it in his organic hand as if it’s the most precious thing in the world, placing a worshipful kiss to the inside of your ankle. Kiss after kiss is trailed up the length of your calf, the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble create a juxtaposition of sensations that send goosebumps erupting across your body, fine hairs standing to attention. When Bucky reaches the inside of your knee, his tongue flicks out, tickling the sensitive flesh. You tense up, instincts screaming to wriggle away from the feeling, but Bucky holds you steady. He doesn’t kiss the start of your thigh, opting to just drag his stubble across the smooth skin, back and forth. His teeth nip playfully as he gets closer and closer to the center of your body. Each snap of teeth immediately remedied by a soothing brush of lips. Your cunt flutters, you can feel your heartbeat in your clit, throbbing insistently. Begging for friction, for penetration, for something to ease the molten ache rapidly growing between your legs.

When Bucky reaches the apex of your thighs, he doesn’t move your sleep shorts to the side, not yet. He leans forward, pressing his face into the fabric, into the flesh, and inhales deeply. An obscene, drawn out sniff, and he moans at the salty, musky scent of arousal that greets his nostrils. His fingers dig into your spread thighs, massaging, marking. He kisses your cunt over your shorts, over your underwear. And then, with no further warning or preamble, he rips the fabric off. Cotton falls in tatters to the floor, leaving you bare and flushed to his gaze.

You realize faintly that it’s definitely brighter in your apartment now and neither of you are tipsy, so you should feel at the very least a bit self conscious about Bucky being eye level with your bare cunt but he drags the tip of his nose from the inside of your knee up, up, up to the crevice where your thigh and labia meet. Every coherent thought flies out the window; he licks maddeningly slow, just shy of firm from hole to clit. Your hands scramble to grasp the edge of the counter, hanging on for dear life.

“Oh, fuck!” You curse, throwing your head back, dragging your ass to the edge of the counter, so close to falling off. You’re shaking like a leaf in a storm, Bucky’s mouth is cruel and heavenly in equal measure, finding your clit easily. He sucks the swollen bud into his mouth like a piece of hard candy.

And you decide if Bucky remains a fixture in your life, you will absolutely be tossing out your beloved vibrator. You won’t need it anymore now that you have unrestricted access to Bucky’s hands, Bucky’s mouth, Bucky’s dick…but you’ll still hang onto her for now because if last night and this morning are a two-time thing, you’ll need that pink hunk of plastic to get off to the memory of this perfect moment for the foreseeable future. 

Bucky moans into the folds of your pussy, eating you out ravenously, like he’ll die if he doesn’t make you cum on his tongue at least thrice. His hands grip your thighs harder, spreading you wider, opening you up to him like a delicate flower. You can’t hold yourself up, not in these conditions, so you lie back on the kitchen island. You spread as wide as you can, giving yourself over fully to Bucky’s mouth. 

“Please,” you breathe out, screwing your eyes shut, your entire body pulled taut like a bowstring, “Oh god, please.”

You don’t know what you’re begging for, or what god you’re calling on, all you know is the heat and the suction of his mouth. It’s embarrassing, how easily Bucky manipulates your body, how close he’s bringing you to the precipice after only a few minutes. But fuck, if it doesn’t feel good, the pleasure vastly outweighs the embarrassment. In fact, it feels so mind-numbingly good, you swear your brain is melting and leaking out your ears. Then, Bucky’s tongue swipes, a perfect arc right over where you want him, need him most. You tense up as if you’ve been electrocuted, moaning brokenly.

“Oh my god, right there,” you wheeze, borderline hyperventilating, “Please, just like that. Don’t stop, please.”

Bucky doubles down, his ferocity turning into a beast, and you worry you might just die from this. You clench around nothing, squirming weakly, chasing that ever elusive peak. The warmth turns into a fever pitch, you gasp and whimper, bucking into his mouth, simultaneously wanting to escape and to arch into him. When Bucky’s tongue curls into your cunt, the striking line of his nose digging into your clit, your mouth falls open. You tense up, hardly able to move or breathe. 

Your orgasm spreads through you like a wave, from the hair follicles on your scalp, down to your curling toes. Your spine arches clean off the counter, hips bucking wildly, legs clamping around Bucky’s head. You pant, gasping for air, twitching amidst the aftershocks as Bucky tongue fucks you through every ripple. Only when you’re limp, boneless, brain dead, does he rise to his feet. He watches you with dark, hooded eyes, unashamedly licking his lips and moaning at the taste of your orgasm. If you weren’t absolutely winded, you would’ve had the good sense to blush at the display. 

He rubs your thighs soothingly, up and down, silently watching as you come back to this plane of reality. He reaches down, helping you slowly sit up, smoothing your wild hair down, and kisses your forehead, “Breakfast?” He murmurs against your temple. 

“Huh?” You mumble, blinking up at him, confused and too fucked out to follow the current track of the conversation. 

“I’m not eating a noodle cup, come on,” Bucky nudges you gently, helping you back down to the floor, “I think there’s a diner a few miles down from here. It’ll be our second date, like you said.”

With shaky legs, you wobble to your bedroom, “It’s cup of noodles.” You mutter under your breath, smiling softly. 

And when you’re on the back of Bucky’s bike, face smushed into the leather of his jacket, when you’re sitting across from him in the diner, laughing so hard chocolate milk shoots out of your nostrils…he may have once been the Winter Soldier, he may have killed at least two dozen people, but now? He’s holding your face in his hands like you’re the center of his universe. He’s paying for the bill like a gentleman. And when he drops you off back home, he pulls his dog tags off, guiding them over your head, giving them to you, claiming it’s so you have to call him back. He’s just Bucky, he’s your Bucky, plain and simple.

[claymton]

I've been waiting for an excuse to talk about this without people looking at me funny.

I agree wholeheartedly about Angela's pedophilic tendencies toward Clay. I don't believe that it was intentional, but she has this desire to keep him so close to her because he's the only living child she has and that makes her so possessive over him. I think that Clay may not have had much socialization as a child because she refused to let him out of her sight, so he never got to see what other kids relationships with their parents were like. He definitely thought this was normal for the longest time until he got to go out and see the world and realize just how strange his circumstances were.

I have this headcanon that Angela stuck with the "skin to skin contact is good for babies" thing throughout Clay's childhood up until she died. I feel like she would share the bath with Clay so they'd stay as close together as possible. She absolutely had no boundaries surrounding appropriate behavior in terms of nudity and touch (though I don't believe she ever touched him with sexual intent).

I think that Clay definitely perceived their relationship as wholesome throughout its course, but as he grew up I'm sure he began to develop some extremely mixed and confusing feelings relating to Angela. I think he's disgusted by himself mainly for thinking that what she was doing had sexual undertones because he strongly believes his mother loved him and would never hurt him in any way, so he just refuses to process it. He will never heal ever. ♥️

God you're absolutely right with all of this! She definetely did all of that, bathing with his son after the appropriate age, and what the other anon mentioned (changing him, sleeping in his bed) And Oh he's never healing that's for sure.

[i-willstealyourtoes]

Hello! May I request some headcanons of the defense classes of TF2 (Heavy, Engie, Demo; or any of those if you do less characters) with an artist! Reader who really loves them and makes the 'merc' their muse? The relationship could be either one sided or just be romantic, up to you!

Thank you, your writing is really cool!😭

Omg thank u sm for liking my writing :') I try my best!! Also I wasn't really sure what to do for the relationship, so I left it a little vague; hope you like it !!

Muse!Defense classes x Artist!Reader

Heavy

- Heavy is very surprised that someone wants to draw/paint him, let alone frequently

- "Heavy is... Flattered. Will be happy to be... 'Muse' for you."

- At the start, he feels a little awkward, almost flustered when you sit near him and start to sketch

- He freezes up, unsure if he should stay still or keep doing what he was doing

- "...should Heavy move?"

- But after you let him know what you're doing and what he should do, he'll relax (a little)

- And when you show him the first drawing of him, he feels the proudest he has been in a while

- "You make Heavy very handsome! Is very true, no? HAH!"

- From then on, every time he catches you drawing, he feels a sense of pride and his chest puffs up

- If you'll let him, he's more than happy to flex his muscles/one of his machine guns for you, a big grin on his face

- If anyone asks to be your muse instead, Heavy is quick to interrupt

- "Little (Y/n) want me, me to be muse. They draw me well."

- It's hard not to develop a little crush on the man, okay?

- Whether you're obvious or not, Heavy isn't stupid, he can tell when you start to fawn over him

- Yet again he's very flattered. And a little confused.

- He doesn't think he's ugly or anything, but really?

- He's especially confused if you're significantly younger than him (you'd like an old man like him)

- He isn't sure what to do about it, after all it's not like the man gets out often

- But whether he likes you back or not, it's still the highlight of his day just to have someone admire him like this :)

Engineer

- Engineer doesn't think he's ugly either (he knows his worth okay), but that doesn't stop him from blushing at the idea of being your muse

- "Me? You really want this old man to be your muse? Well, shucks, how can I say no?"

- He too, feels a little frozen at the beginning, but he'll try to force himself to act normal if he spots you sketching him

- He gets a bit more flustered if you ask him to pose; he doesn't know what to do with his hands and all that, you'll have to tell him what to do :')

- When you show your first piece with him, his eyes light up as he scans the art top-to-bottom

- "Well I'll be... This is amazing, (Y/n)! I don't know how you do it-!"

- He too, feels a sense of pride at the feeling of being your center focus, but he won't start flexing like Heavy. He might fix his posture or lift his head though :)

- He'll probably get a little shy if someone walks in while your getting him to pose, his cheeks flushing subtly as one of the mercs (or Miss Pauling) look at the two of you with a raised eyebrow

- If you'll let him, he'll stick up all the art in his workshop, and when he needs some mood boosting/motivation, he'll look at all the work you've made for him :)

- He can almost definitely tell when you start to like him in a more-than-friendly way

- He definitely has had admirers before, but this time it's a co-worker...

- He's not sure what to do, but he definitely does find it amusing to watch you fluster when he intentionally flexes or flashes a teasing grin and a wink at you

- It makes him feel like he's still got it :')

Demo

(Gang I tried giving him an accent and I think I failed HORRIBLY. I tried okay Scottish people feel free to execute me rn.)

- Demo, if anything, suggests first to be your muse if you mention looking for one

- Although, he says it more like a joke than a genuine request

- So when you take him up on that offer, he's a little surprised.

- "Of course ye want me to be- Wait, really?"

- But don't get me wrong, he would love to be drawn by you.

- He'll quickly defend your choice to others (ex: Scout)

- "I don't think you'd want him to be your muse thing.."

- "How no? I'm a better choice than you, wi' yer wee skinny legs an' aw."

- Anyway, even if you don't want him to, Demo will be posing. With no shame either it seems.

- He's been painted before, so he knows how to stay still for a period of time (he won't pass out, unlike what the others assume)

- But if you want a candid piece of him, you'll have to tell him to stop turning to face you with a cheesy grin

- "Sorry, sorry, jus' thought you'd like to see my beautiful smile."

- As soon as you finish it, he will immediately take it with wide eyes

- "You drew this??? Right the now???" (do... do Scottish people say this?)

- He keeps it close to him, a bashful grin on his lips

- Yes, he will almost definitely gloat in front of the rest of his team

- After he's done showing off, he'll definitely keep it on the wall of his bedroom or something similar !!

- If he notices that you've started to develop a crush on him, his already inflated ego would almost burst

- He thinks it's quite funny (not that he's making fun of you) that you get flustered or bashful when he gets a little too close or starts to flirt a little

- "Aw, whit's wrong? Yer all red!"

- Unlike the others, I think Demo would probably hold on to the feeling of adoration a little longer than needed before telling you his thoughts

- He just loves the feeling of someone appreciating him so much :,)

[rotting-victorian-child]

Drug of Choice

spencer reid x reader

(this is the first thing i have fully written in a few years tbh. not my full potential just trying to get back in the swing of things. thank uu)

tw: mentions of drug abuse

summary:spencer and reader were kidnapped and drugged together, both developing addictions after. they enter a drug fueled relationship, and wonder now when they’re sober if the connection was real.

You stood, arms crossed, at the window of your apartment. Raindrops were slowly forming against the glass, and for a moment you were so focused on them you almost forgot about the man sitting on the bed behind you. Maybe you thought if you stared long and hard enough you really could forget him. The silence was heavy, nearly suffocating. If you spoke, then he’d answer. If you turned around, then he’d be there. Why couldn’t he just be far away? Or anywhere but awkwardly posed on the edge of your bed? You didn’t want to have the conversation that was coming. You didn’t want to confront your feelings, much less confront them when they may not be real. For someone so smart, he was stupid enough to stay. And even more stupid to speak.

“Do you remember what it was like before?” Spencer broke the silence, voice low, like breaking the silence was breaking something fragile.

“Before what? Us?” You asked, still staring at the raindrops. Still too coward to turn around and face him.

“Yeah. Before us. Before we started to confuse whatever this is for some type of connection? Or some type of…I don’t know.” For once, Spencer didn’t know. Or maybe he did and he just couldn’t find the right word. Even more likely, maybe he knew what word he wanted to say all along, but couldn’t bring himself to actually speak it into existence. It didn’t matter though, because you said it for him.

“For love, you mean? Before we started to confuse what we were doing for love? Yeah I remember a time before that, Spencer. And I would kill to go back to it.” You finally turned around to face him, with coldness in your tone and arms still crossed. He sort of flinched at your words, was it really all that bad, being connected to him? Even if the connection was built on addiction? Now that the Dilaudid was out of the equation, was there anything left between you two?

“Maybe you just liked the company. Or the enabling. Maybe it was never about me, or us. Maybe it was always about what we were doing.” Spencer looked down at his hands, not sure if he could look at the girl standing across from him.

“We were high the first time we kissed.” You blinked, as if to try to stop tears that didn’t even exist. God, you wanted to cry. You wanted to actually feel something. You knew this feeling, this connection, went so far beyond some stupid narcotic and so did he. Why did you both have to question that? Why did you both have to struggle so hard with the idea that you both deserve love, both deserve to be loved. You knew each other before you got kidnapped and drugged, you knew the versions of each other that existed before and those versions were equally as avoidant of the obvious feelings they had for one another.

“I wanted to kiss you long before I ever touched a drug in my life.” Spencer replied, looking up at you. He meant that, and it hurt that it took getting high for the first time to act upon it. He felt like a coward, maybe if he had just kissed you one of the thousands of other times he had thought about it this conversation wouldn’t be happening.

“I wish you would have. I would have kissed you back. I wouldn’t of needed a fucking drug to do it, either.” You winced at the hostility in your voice. This wasn’t all on him, and you knew that. But newly sober you wasn’t the most logical.

“That’s not fair. You were high, too. Do not try and act like I’m the only one responsible for the way this…relationship started. If my memory serves me correctly, and it always does, you were the one telling me you loved me while high out of your mind. Needed a drug to do that, didn’t you?” Spencer asked matter of factly. You uncrossed your arms at his response. He was right. Your attitude softened a bit, and this argument was silly. You were both high, end of story.

“I’m not high right now and I still love you.” It came out of your mouth before you even realized what you had said. You took a moment to think about it, and it was true. You did still love him. Drugs or not. No one else had ever made you feel the way Spencer Reid did, not even the Dilaudid made you feel half as euphoric as him.

Spencer stood up and took the few steps necessary to reach you, he placed his hand on your cheek. Your face felt warm and your vision blurry, how could one person make you feel so good? And how could you ever convince yourself you didn’t really love him?

“I love you too. Stone cold sober and I love you.” He pulled your lips onto his. He could feel you in his veins, feel your entire being entering his blood stream. No high could ever compare to the way you both felt in that moment. You both went to pull away, and it almost felt impossible.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do that before all of this. You didn’t deserve that.” His hand remained on your cheek.

“Then I wouldn’t have known you were my favorite drug.” You whispered to him, knowing he felt the same. Maybe the whole time it was each other that you were addicted to.

[fushiglow]

I feel like I live in here geeking about music, and I want to nervously apologise but I won't this time.

Thanks to living in the furture I've heard the new Sleep Token album, and I'm having OTT thoughts with the song 'Past Self'. I was curious about your thoughts on it.

And honestly you have this love of music that I see in OTT and I can't help but want to ask you about it.

Anyway, I hope you feel less burned out soon Glo <3

Sending this when you knew I physically couldn't listen for many more hours was cruel. Jokes on you, I'm into that 🫵

Having given the album a full listen a number of times now, I think we may as well go on the whole Even In Arcadia journey in relation to Over the Threshold, and I'll share some more general thoughts about the album after that in case you're interested.

I hope you enjoy this, because I truly am the strongest yapper!

Sugar

First, a recap. For anyone who doesn't know, the Sleep Token associations with Over the Threshold were a happy accident. Shortly after I published chapter 6 in January 2024, someone left a comment saying that Satoru's song in the fic, Sugar, reminded them of Sleep Token's Sugar. I had never even heard of Sleep Token at the time, and when I listened, my first thought was, "Yeah, Satoru's music definitely sounds nothing like this."

However, the lyrics certainly spoke not only to Satoru's cheeky song, but to the fic in general. Games (little and big) are a recurrent theme in Over the Threshold, so it's not just "Sugar, I've developed a taste for you", but also "You must be crazy if you think that I will give up the game".

It was mentioned by readers quite a few more times over the months that followed, but I didn't think about it much more until I decided to develop Satoru's Sugar further in chapter 11. When I first introduced the song to the fic, I wasn't intending it to play such a big role in the story. It was simply supposed to be the "fun" second single sandwiched between the two more meaningful songs. However, Sugar took on a life of its own, at least in part due to the reader response to the song.

That's the most special thing about this fic. For a story that is so much about the dialogue between artist and audience, but also about the suffocation of creativity and the suppression of authentic artistic expression in a consumer driven music industry, being able to respond to reader reactions within the story itself is such a gift.

From the theorising about the photos in the parking garage to "sugar ooh" becoming a commonplace substitute for Suguru among Over the Threshold readers, as though people actually heard that catchy hook, you guys have more control of this story than you perhaps realise — and that is so deliciously meta. It's what Suguru describes in chapter 5:

An artist’s relationship with the public was a precarious, fickle thing, [...] their power [only] proportional to the people’s belief in them.

I feel exactly like Satoru and his team, identifying the fan favourite that emerges and giving it prized place in the encore to close out the show. The readers brought Sugar into focus in this story, which brings us back to Sleep Token, because the readers brought that Sugar into focus, too. It became the "theme song" for Dolce, because it grew into the fabric of Satoru's character for me via the readers.

Neither Dolce nor A Cappella would even exist if I didn't have such a wonderful readerbase willing to engage with me at this level, and I'm truly thankful for that. This story has grown beyond anything I originally set out to do, and it's all the more meaningful for it.

Caramel

Perhaps it's surprising to hear that I see Sugar as a song performed from Satoru's POV, along with its spiritual successor, Caramel, which became the "theme song" for Dolce's spiritual successor, A Cappella, in turn.

For anyone who's interested in getting a peek into Satoru's head in this fic, Caramel is your song. It really sums up the core conflict that this story explores, as well as Satoru and Suguru's opposing ideologies pushing up against one another. Suguru has a strong presence in the song. He's the "They can sing the words while I cry into the bassline" to Satoru's "I just wanna hear you sing that top line". He's the "mirror side-stage" that grounds Satoru, but also reflects back at him all the horrors of his role that he's never really confronted before.

In the end, Caramel sums up his quiet acceptance of the chaos of his chosen lifestyle, but only after exploring all the emotion that simmers beneath that perfect smile as he's pulled in different directions by his love of the performance, by the secret strain of the spotlight, by his love for Suguru, and by his fear of everything that threatens to reduce sweet sugar to burnt caramel at the bottom of the pan. There is such desperation in "Stick to me like caramel." I can't not hear it as chapter 13's "Can you hold on just a little bit longer?" while Satoru attempts to handle everything on his own. He wants to have his cake and eat it. Can he?

Of course, Sugar is less explicitly related to the themes of the wider story, but the release of Caramel has retroactively given the song a weight that supports this specific story in such beautiful ways. I never could have foreseen these serendipitous circumstances (I actually could, I'm Glod) but Sleep Token keep delivering for me.

There was Sugar, then Caramel, then Damocles which we've already discussed. Now, the release of Even In Arcadia brings three more songs that slot into this story, leaving us with five songs written specifically for fushiglow. Incredible scenes.

Past Self

The first, as you say, is Past Self. We've got games again, and the idea of dancing on the line which has come up a few times throughout the fic, but lyrically, this song is wildly fitting to Over the Threshold at a much deeper level. It's almost getting creepy at this point. First of all:

And you know I deliberate on cutting out the demons I still need a dark side, they just need a reason The passage of the hours into rushing through the seasons Falling through my mind with the leaves on the trees

Anyone else having chapter 12/13 war flashbacks? Changing seasons and falling leaves? Alright then!

Other stand out lines include "bolts out of my blue depths" (sobs), "did I get this far for nothing, or are you the reward?" (sobs harder), and "torn apart by the true believers that turned out to be faithless". Good lord, the themes are really theming.

However, the bridge section is such a departure from the rest of the song that I think puts Sleep Token's musical choices here into context:

And if this is love, then I am out of hesitation Head over heels at elevation Walking an inch above the pavement Taking it stride by stride together If this is real, then I am all up in a frenzy Not like before when I was empty Say that the story we tell is never-ending Taking it side by side together

It reminds me of the momentous turning point of chapter 8:

The gravity of it was startling. Yet Suguru felt buoyed by it, weightless on the current of Satoru’s faith in him — because no one had ever really believed in Suguru like that before. The feeling of it coursing around his bloodstream was potent and exciting, the way all drugs felt on the first try. It made his grin feel a little manic.

The whole song feels like taking a leap of faith, but in the context of the album, the unexpected sonic shift to upbeat hip hop rhythms and instrumentation is unsettling for the listener. The song bounces along in a way that feels like it might teeter off the edge at any time.

It even feels pretty unstable harmonically, like it's missing its centre. During the aforementioned bridge, it feels like we come close to reaching some kind of satisfying harmonic resolution for the final chorus, but ultimately the outcome of this leap of faith is withheld from the listener. It's smart writing. I really appreciate the intention behind this one!

Dangerous

Next up is Dangerous. Listening to the first 1:30 of this song felt like taking a bath in milk and honey — delectable but dangerous. More like scaphism than a spa treatment. I'm being silly.

But seriously, the gorgeous vocals cushioned by the reverberant pluck of guitar strings in the opening to the song are one of my favourite parts of the album overall. Nothing smart to say about this one though. It's just very reminiscent of Suguru trying to resist the dangerous addiction that is Satoru.

Infinite Baths

Even if I'm not head over heels in love with this song in its own right, as an Over the Threshold song, it is incredibly special. Enough to make me cry. In fact, in the context of the fic, it might be my favourite of all of them. [EDIT: No, I take it back. It's Damocles. Or Caramel. I don't know.]

But I'm not going to talk about it. Maybe we'll come back to it one day. For now, interpret this as you wish. Is it the balmy peace of the first half of the song or the violent supernova of the second that speaks to me? Hm.

I think the fact that I've chosen to focus on spiritual and celestial imagery with idols and stars in Over the Threshold — the idea of worshipping a concept that's bigger than reality — is a huge part of the reason Sleep Token's recent music resonates with the story.

I'm not familiar with the lore, but my hunch is that when they conceived of Sleep and Vessel and tokens of worship, they weren't thinking about celebrity, but those recurring themes have inadvertently played right into their experience of fame and thus make an appearance in a big way on Even In Arcadia.

Hooray for fushiglow and Over the Threshold, boo for the Sleep Token guys and the difficulties they've been facing. Fame sucks.

General review

As I've alluded to, most of my enjoyment of this album definitely stems from my own selfish application of its themes to Over the Threshold. However, in case you're interested, I'll also share some more general thoughts, because I personally think it's fascinating that looking at this album through the lens of my story vs in its own right changes my perception of it rather a lot.

I like music that's deliberate in its choices, regardless of genre. I like music that tells a story in its composition and arrangement and production, not only in its lyrical content. If all of those things marry together and support one another, that's great songwriting. For me, Even In Arcadia meets that criteria around half the time.

My biggest criticism of the record is that it feels hesitant in places, like the band lacks commitment to their ideas. There's so much experimentation with genre on this album and the experimental moments are what made me sit up and pay attention — the bold use of a reggaeton beat on Caramel; the unexpected sidestep into math rock on Gethsemane; just the whole journey through genre that is Emergence — but it feels like Sleep Token are held back by a reluctance to depart from their roots.

The gentle build to a breakdown where the drums and guitars come screaming in sometimes feels formulaic, like they're going through the motions expected of them as a 'rock band'. On a couple of occasions, the pivot to a heavier sound mid-track felt to me (to use an Over the Threshold-ism) like it limited the song from reaching the heights it was aiming for.

I think that's a shame, but also understandable, especially since this is their first release on a major label which comes with ALL sorts of politics. I even think that fear of the audience moving on is expressed in the lyrical content, especially in Damocles which, interestingly enough, shows a restraint on that front which is exactly the kind of musical storytelling I described earlier.

Some tracks feel out of place, like they don't quite belong to the concept. For me, the singles are definitely the high points of the album, alongside Look to Windward and Even In Arcadia. Even In Arcadia is a rich and immersive soundscape that delivers all the spiritualism of the lyrics with a vocal performance to back it up. That hoarse screamed last line that feels like it's reaching outside of the song followed by the soft "for me" evokes something larger than life; I think this song will be amazing live.

Meanwhile, Look to Windward is such a strong opener. It sets the tone really well, even if I don't think the tracks that follow always deliver on its promises. I love the Hans Zimmer-esque chords; it's very reminiscent of Holy War from Dune. Really strong melodic and lyrical content over the top of them, too, and I love the development into the plucked strings and vocalisations. This song is constantly growing and developing, exploring new ideas before returning to the original subject. It's a very complete and satisfying listening experience, which (I think) describes to the listener the journey the album will (attempt to) take them on.

I feel like Infinite Baths didn't quite deliver on that return to the original subject. The circular nature of the album (it closes with the same chord and rhythm combination it opens with) is undermined by the way it kind of fizzles out at the end. We land back where we started, but it feels like an accident rather than a deliberate choice. I wonder why they chose a fade out. Is this what they meant by "drift with me" (such a drastic departure from the rest of the song and easily my favourite part)?

So, most of the tracks on Even In Arcadia probably aren't going to find their way into my regular listening, but I enjoyed it overall. I do love a good concept album, and I admire Sleep Token's dedication to their artistry and the elaborate performance of it all. I also think that the more ambitious an artist is, the more critical we tend to be of them, and that doesn't feel fair.

Still, the higher you climb, the harder you fall. It seems fitting to the themes of this album, so maybe it achieved its aims.

Good god, I hope this was enjoyable to someone. Congratulations if you got to the bottom of this post! If you did, let's make a secret club. Only people who leave a reply containing 🌭 are part of it. Welcome to the hot dog club. (?!)

Thanks for another opportunity to yap, it means a lot. I love talking about music and I love talking about this story ♥

[hrrtshape]

discussing how the perception of some random piece of media when u were 6 yo has developped a very specific psychosexual/romantic relationship dynamic for u as an adult is my favourite conversation topic to have w someone at 3am after a couple of extra glasses of whine in the kitchen while chain-smoking...... i just didn't know how to ask it without being too nosy.... which is strange to say after the word "psychosexual" was mentioned LMAO anyway #relatable

yes yes yes yes yes !!!!!!!!!!!!! there's just. something about the word psychosexual that feels like biting tinfoil in church. its perfect. no notes. if someone asked me to describe my ideal relationship dynamic i'd just show them that word and walk into the sea

and yeah the gaston thing is one thing but also jafar and jasmine??? oh my god. i wanted that. still do. like that dynamic activated something subterranean in me. and i even have more examples </3 because sadly my childhood was weird and i'd let my monster high dolls scissor </3

also im still trying to find this one clip from a batman film if someone remembers or knows what im talking about. pls tell me. cause i cannot for the life remember. joker being very perverse and i was like. hell. yes

so yeah. tragically. my ideal relationship is kind of toxic but not really but yes but no. like technically it shouldnt work but it does because coryo is doing everything more than perfectly and im just like. sitting on the floor smiling about it

(p.s. remembering when i wanted to shift to be with remus lupin or andrew garfield's peter parker… i would've machete'd myself within the week. those boys are fine but like. i would've died of emotional anaemia. no offence. i need more slight toxic masculinity in the room.)

[sergioguymanproust]

The eternal bond between ,our Moon ,Mars and the Pleiades is magnetic one and a connection that has been a bridge between them and Earth. The truth being an extraterrestrial link between species ,that we humans have had since our inception on this planet but have refused to acknowledge,living in constant denial of our bipedal roots.Our galactic ancestors have kept an eye on us traveling through these so called portals and star gates thus maintaining a constant and deep relationship as creators and DNA tweaking of our race and the introduction of demigods and hybrids created from the Lyra constellation and other star systems. So you see we are indeed as aliens as they come .Denying our origins by saying we are from Earth only is half baked of a truth.Our ancestors did come also from the Pleiades,later settling on Mars and the Moon and now Earth nicknamed the blue marble of the solar system.I know that because we are overwhelmed with conspiracy theories we have become disgusted and turned skeptics to the point of denial .But reality is beginning to hit us hard and sooner or later we will admit to our true and sincere extraterrestrial nature. You do the math after digging and confronting the scientists that claim that it isn’t so. Darwin’s theory of evolution has some interesting implications in terms of how we have been evolving ,but it fails to mention the concept of extraterrestrial intervention. But that’s okay ,nobody has all the answers.Another important factor is the meddling of the Reptilian race in our development,being considered more as fodder for their race,a slave race that needs to be dominated.To the point of having infiltrated our civilization and all governments on this planet to their advantage. Well,I know it is too much to absorb ,so I will tell you more about it later.Words by Sergio GuymanProust.

Moon, Mars and Pleiades

[mossspond]

I think Expedition 33 deserves all its flowers and more in so many aspects but I'm so SAD that these otherwise impeccably written female characters cannot escape being defined by the men in their lives. Like I cannot believe they only get a handful of scenes with each other in which they MOSTLY talk about Gustav.

It's kind of driving me insane that I haven't seen any discussion about this online yet because imo it's kinda egregious.

[freewilllife]

I guess, that Kusanagi has to follow a certain formula for the main couple...or let´s say, as a person that needs to eat, she will follow a certain formula that is already established as succesful regarding the readers.

If one understands even a minuscule of shojo mangas, you will now that Hak is the love interest and not Soo Won. He was the correct type, his devotion to Yona so great that it bordered on being supernatural. And still it was the typical cat and dog situation.

What you mention here, is absolutely correct. Neither Soo Won, nor Lily seem to be developed as a couple, but as characters. Kusanagi used Lily to demonstrate some facts about Soo Won...but Lily is in and itself an even more interesting character than Yona.

Like Yona she was raised as a princess, however, in contrast to Yona, she didn´t need to be thrown out of her comfortable life. Lily chose to run away from home, her wish to help her people was that strong.

She was helpless in a way, yet she got the merchants to help her...and Soo Won was impressed.

It is funny, that Soo Won held an umbrella over her like in a typical romance story, yet both had nothing like romance on their minds, when they met.

At first Lily underestimated him, Soo Won got to know her a little and considered her a valuable ally. It is strange, that he considered Yona helpless, but was ready to support Lily from the get go...I think, he was also curious, how far she would come...and it of course helped him in his quest. Soo Won is ruthless, yet a kind person. He can play political games with you and can manipulate and influence people, yet he is strangly detached from other people.

Lily and Soo Won share this wish to help their people and so even though he was Yona´s enemy, she supported Soo Won´s politics. After he rescued her together with Hak, Lily wanted to know him, to understand him. And she was able to see so much about him.

She understood, that he loved Yona, that he was "an ideal king", that he pushed people away in order to be a good king. And like in Xing´s case, she did not share his stance, since she chose Yona´s side.

Both respect each other greatly and that is why a relationship between them would be a positive development.

I am glad I am not the only one that recognises the undeniable chemistry between Soo-won and Lili.

Growth. Just pure mutually supportive growth.

[aroaessidhe]

2025 reads / storygraph

The Stars Too Fondly

scifi romcom

20 years ago a deep space mission was supposed to depart for Proxima Centauri but the entire crew disappeared before launch

now a group of friends who’ve spent their whole lives obsessed with it break into the ship to try and figure out what happened - but when they go to look at the dark matter engine, it turns on and starts sending them into space - and gives them strange magical abilities

along with a holographic ai copy of the ship’s captain, they have to deal with their strange abilities, reckon with the fact they might be spending years of their lives in space, and unravel the mystery of what happened to the old crew

bi & lesbian MCs, trans girl & nonbinary aroace side characters

[aetsiv]

every time i see someone mischaracterize matthias as a dumb, blonde, malewife with no personality except being nina's (dead) boyfriend i want to fistfight god and cause the mass extinction of humanity

[triglycercule]

i think killer sans would listen to frank sinatra no this isnt because im listening to him and i think his love songs are the kinda slow heartfelt romantic messages and vibes in them fit killer and his romanticness,,,,, ok it totally is hehee,,,,,,,

i think it would be cute if dust and horror dont expect it when they ask killer what music he likes. killer doesn't really seem like the type to listen to music at least right?? or at least not something so sappy really!! dust just nods his head and thinks about it (actually it's a pleasant surprise to learn killer likes that genre) and horror just rolls his eye (what a douche liking songs like that,,,,,)

[decidedly-not-heterosexual]

What do you think about Will makes him Hannibal/ bluebeard's last wife? And how did that line make Will realise that Hannibal is in love with him?

Hi Anon! So, my familiarity with Bluebeard comes from two adaptations (Catherine Breillat's 2009 film Bluebeard and Angela Carter's short story The Bloody Chamber). The film especially seems to match the most common portrayal of the Bluebeard story. Though, like all fairytale/folk tales, there are variations.

In gist: Bluebeard is a rich nobleman. All of his wives have gone missing. His young wife is aware of these disappearances, yet still chooses to marry him and leave her family. Bluebeard gives his wife a key to a chamber and tells her not to open the chamber. He goes on a trip. The wife opens the chamber and sees the corpses of his former lovers. Bluebeard comes back earlier, having given his wife the key as a test of loyalty. Betrayed, he prepares to kill his wife. His wife stalls so that her sister has time to come and kill Bluebeard.

In terms of connections to Hannibal:

Will goes back to Hannibal in S3 while knowing that Hannibal is a killer. Will even orchestrates Hannibal's escape from prison. This parallels Bluebeard's last wife marrying Bluebeard while very likely knowing he's a killer. She knows that, even if she's "special," her fate could be the same as the other wives.

In Breillat's film, Bluebeard truly does love his last wife. Yet he still gives her the key to test her loyalty. This puts the wife in an impossible position. She has to know what lies beyond the chamber door. This parallels Hannibal's tests of Will throughout the show. Because Hannibal loves Will, he wants Will to love the entirety of his monstrous self.

Take Hannibal's wrath in Mizumono. Will has to betray Hannibal because of who he is: someone desperately trying to hold onto their "goodness" by catching killers, rather than being one. Similarly, Bluebeard's wife, as a curious child, has to open the chamber door.

Will betrays Hannibal by setting up a sting. Even though he backtracks, Hannibal doesn't care--the betrayal is still there.

Hannibal says "I forgive you, Will. Will you forgive me?" and kills Abigail, an innocent. This parallel's Bluebeard's wrath when his wife betrays him and he plans to kill the wife, who is also innocent.

There are some interesting differences here. Hannibal kills someone else rather than Will. Unlike Bluebeard, Hannibal is willing to set up another test after Will betrays him.

Will stalls. He does love Hannibal. But Will can't let go of who he is--or who he wants to be. (I think Will's desire to not be a killer is as much a part of his character as him enjoying killing). Rather than becoming a fully-fledged killer, Will chooses to kill Hannibal. This parallels how the wife's sister kills Bluebeard.

In Hannibal, Will is the beloved and the killer. There is no external "sister" to sweep in and save him. He chooses to kill the monster, who he loves, also killing himself in the process.

Will himself is somewhat of a monster, having embraced his "becoming" and being a murder. So, along with being a victim of Hannibal's, he's also complicit in Hannibal's evil, and can't stand to betray his strongly-held values.

As another parallel, maybe Bluebeard's wife was suicidal, choosing to marry him when all his wives have disappeared...

So yeah. The monster (Hannibal/Bluebeard) cherishes their beloved (Will/Bluebeard's wife). But the monster has an evil that is too great. The monster asks their beloved an impossible task, which requires being complicit in the monster's evil, and requires the beloved going against their own nature. The beloved can't stomach the task. Then the monster has to kill their beloved. But the monster ends up being killed by their beloved.

PS: When I made that post I actually didn't remember that Bedelia has a quote mentioning Bluebeard's wife and wanting to be the last wife😭 Lmao. There's a whole other analysis as to how Bluebeard applies to Bedelia. As such, I'm not sure if that line made Will realize Hannibal was in love with him. PPS: Sorry for the late reply! I knew it would take me a while to type out my thoughts on this and I didn't have the spoons until now. I really appreciate the question!!

[jinxed-sinner]

Talking about the potential in Lucifer and Alastor dynamic, but it would be interesting if their relationship ended up being the opposite of the relationship Alastor and Vox have going. We know Vox and Alastor used to be good friends but are now enemies, Alastor and Lucifer could go from enemies to good friends (in general I wanna see Alastor have more interactions with male characters, ex: Angel Dust, to see how the show is gonna handle his distrust of men and if he is ever gonna get over it at some point in the show).

Honestly this is one of the reasons I'm so excited to see their dynamic develop. I think I've said it before but Alastor very clearly doesn't trust men (with the exception of Husk; if he didn’t at least trust Husk’s judgement he wouldn’t have told Mimzy to leave I think), and if Lucifer could gain his trust and show Alastor that not everyone is going to hurt him? 10/10, Vivziepop PLEASE

I think it'd be good for Lucifer too. Lucifer views Alastor (and almost every other sinner) as a "violent psychopath hellbent on causing as much pain and destruction" as possible. Lucifer is basically in the same position as every single fan who sees Alastor's morality as black and white and says Alastor's evil. Lucifer doesn't know there's a pattern to Alastor's attacks (that being, he only attacks when provoked and he doesn't attack innocent people). Lucifer doesn't know Alastor's past. All Lucifer knows about Alastor is what he saw in Dad Beat Dad, which was:

Alastor getting under his skin for not actively being Charlie's dad, and I think Lucifer knew Alastor's goal was basically "purposely get under his skin for the lolz" (this would additionally probably clue Lucifer into the fact that Alastor is manipulating Charlie)

Alastor being a cannibal, which he would've easily been able to surmise from Alastor not just attacking the loan sharks, but also eating them

Alastor just overall being a fucking jackass

Lucifer doesn't know why Alastor is the way he is (and we don't either, although I find speculating on it fun). We don't know if Lucifer knew Alastor fought Adam (although there's a non-zero chance he would've heard about it from someone). Lucifer only knows Alastor at a surface level, which is the case with every other sinner that exists.

Even if Alastor and Lucifer don't become best friends, if they become friends in any capacity, it'd be good for both of them. Alastor would realize not everyone's going to hurt him, and Lucifer would realize that each sinner has their own story, whether he thinks it justifies how they act in Hell or not. Hell, if Alastor was canonically abused by his dad and that did contribute to him being a serial killer, I can honestly see Lucifer feeling bad for his first impression of Alastor being "bloodthirsty psychopath" because he's like that for a reason.

If Lucifer can learn that even the worst of the worst might not be as shitty as he thinks, I think it'll help him a lot. If Alastor can realize that not everyone wants to hurt him, that'll help Alastor a lot.

Honestly considering how their first meeting went and the fact that Lucifer still seems to hate Alastor as of the end of The Show Must Go On, I'd be surprised if Lucifer and Alastor aren't instrumental to each other's development. Obviously, Lucifer being at the hotel in general is going to be crucial to his development as a character, but I genuinely think Alastor and Lucifer are going to be incredibly crucial to each other's development. Lucifer met Pentious and Angel when they'd already gone through some level of character development, Lucifer is going to actually be there for whatever character development Alastor goes through, and I think Lucifer being there to witness someone like Alastor improve to any extent is going to be super important for his development.

[valkerymillenia]

TUA s04

I watched the whole season except for the last episode.

I didn't hate it so far but mostly because TUA tens to give interesting plot twists at the last second and I was trying to keep an open mind... That being said, I am quite disappointed in a lot of things this season.

And now I'm genuinely afraid of watching that last episode, there's too much to unpack so far and I'm afraid of the implications of some of the storylines being built up, I'm also very afraid that they're going to do the lazy writing thing and kill a bunch of characters off without any resolution or catharsis just to wrap up the story.

Plus I've been trying to avoid spoilers but I already caught a few glimpses that scared me.

This was my favorite show ever, I don't want it to end on a bad note, a rushed and lazily written bad note.

[chuchayucca]

Tbh I'm surprised nobody else has brought up the idea of Richard being abused too

It feels like a lot of potential for it and an explanation (aside from their status) as to why Roy never got help for it either -- Richard thought it was normal.

Now this is just making me imagine a scene where Carmen remarks that Roy will "grow out of it" (it being his behavior) like Richard did in front of the other Hatz and Ross and Robert just share a Look

Anddd now I'm wondering how much Carmen knows

TW for discussions of fictional CSA/SA and mentions of alcoholism

Me too, I thought it would be an obvious assumption but I guess not.

Exactly, I’ve seen the fandom explore Carmen and Roy’s relationship regarding his CSA but never with Richard. I think it’s ashamed because there’s a lot you can write for the relationship, even outside of their CSA.

Omg that’s a good scene idea. The Hatzgang are realized there is a deeper issue, and Roy has to unfortunately unpack that generational trauma. I can see how learning his dad is a possible CSA victim, like him, starts pushing Roy to tell his parents but also discourages him because basically Richard unknowingly knew Roy was SA but never recognized it because he doesn’t know he was SA too. I also believe Richard normalized his brother’s actions too. It’s truly devastating how Richard indirectly contributed to the normalization of Roy’s abuse but he doesn’t know it’s SA. He believes those fun “games” him and his brother played were normal family bonding activities and is happy to hear his son is getting along with his brother, a brother he admired when growing up.

These headcanons might change as the series continues and the deeper I get into research.

I headcanon Carmen doesn’t know anything but has suspected something was off a few times. She never thought anything of Richard’s behavior at first because he alway been this way. When they became adults, she started questioning as Richard still had issues with intimacy at that point in their relationship and his alcoholism was at its worst. (Short ver: Richard started drinking at a young age to cope with trauma of his SA and the Uncle encouraged this, buying him alcohol for various reasons. Modern day, Richard is a functional alcoholic but has gotten better with his drinking)

As of the moment, Roy’s parents are unaware of Roy’s CSA. The day the Uncle died, Roy did get in trouble but for separate reasons. Carmen and Richard were mad at Roy for hanging out with “plebeians” and sending them to one of his uncle’s private properties. Roy doesn’t feel comfortable telling them yet because they’re snobby, judgmental people, so he assumes they won’t react well.