#oh look at me i'm projecting onto fictional characters again

[number1villainstan]

Sometimes I wonder about how Eri would end up after the series.

She doesn't stay with Aizawa long, of course. He's a hero and a teacher, he's very busy, he doesn't have time to take care of a child past the time she gets ahold of her Quirk. And by that time, of course, her grandfather has woken up, and of course a child should be given to the closest living blood relative for care. So off she goes to live with her grandfather.

Years pass. Of course they do--she's growing up, it's what children do. Everyone around her says she's growing into a beautiful young lady, that she'll start getting suitors soon, that boys would gladly fight over her. She should like the praise, she thinks--that's what her grandfather tells her, that she should strive to be pretty and demure and feminine. She does not like the praise. It grates against her in a way she cannot explain. It sets her teeth on edge, claws against the inside of her skin, makes her hyper-aware of the eyes on her and how much she feels like she's an imposter in someone else's skin. She much rather prefers staring at the wall, getting lost in her own head and distracting herself from an existence full of pain she barely understands. She does not seek pain; she runs from it.

People see her empty smiles and sometimes ask if she's okay. "I'm just tired," she says. She's been tired for years.

One time she snaps at someone who calls her cute. Her grandfather punishes her by taking away all of her pants and t-shirts, saying that she needs to "learn to be a proper woman" and not end up like her uncle, who refused to be a proper man, and look how he ended up.

(She hates the idea that she could be like him. She loves the idea that she could be like him.)

(Really, when she hears that there was someone else out there who doesn't fit in the same way that she doesn't fit, it's only a matter of time.)

The idea scares her when it first comes to her. She does not seek pain; she runs from it, drowns it in daydreams and time-wasting to ignore the way she wants to scream every time some boy leers at her, every time she has to wear a skirt, every time an adult coos over how pretty she is. She shoves the idea out of her mind, wraps a pillow around her head to keep it from getting back in again, but it doesn't work. The idea comes back in all its terrifying and tempting glory.

She does not seek pain, she runs from it, but maybe if instead she runs through it, to another side that isn't a small, wet, damp, dark corner inside her mind--

Oh god, she'd never make it through, she'd drown first.

She has money in an account, doesn't she? It would be easy to use it to buy a few changes of clothes, ones that don't make her hate her reflection, buy some long-lasting snacks, maybe even pay some less-than-upstanding-citizens for information--

Her grandfather barely lets her go out with her friends (not really friends, but hanging out with them keeps her from getting bullied). He'd never let her do this.

Her grandfather didn't have to know, though, did he? Even Sugiyama Shinkichi, former oyabun of the infamous Shie Hassaikai, has to sleep sometime. He's old. His health is starting to fail.

He doesn't even have to wake up, something ugly whispers in the back of her head.

No. No no no no no. She is not going to do that, that would be horrible. And convenient. And horrible. She needs to go to sleep.

It doesn't come easy, and almost against her will she wakes up with half-formed plans. She tells herself not to look for opportunities, not to add details to those plans, but she sees them everywhere, and it's only a few days before she knows exactly when and where and how to do the first step.

She does not seek pain. But on Thursday she asks her grandfather if she can stay out late tomorrow, and he for once says yes. Friday morning, along with the bare minimum of her school supplies, she shoves a wad of cash into her backpack, as much as she could withdraw from her account. Friday afternoon, instead of heading home, she chops off all her hair in the bathroom, changes into a nondescript hoodie and jeans, and boards the train to another prefecture, and heads to the most run-down, red-light, crime-ridden section of Osaka, where ex-members of the Hassaikai are said to lurk.

She hopes that she'll find Chisaki Kai there.

[picaroroboto]

When someone does a terrible thing, in both real life and in fiction, we as onlookers find ourselves immediately asking "Why?". In real life even an understandable or relatable motive rarely justifies most crimes, while in fiction, we may actually judge evil actions less harshly if they were done with good intentions (or if the perpetrator is hot, but that's another issue)

(forgive me for interrupting my scheduled Fateposting for Zenosposting. again.)

From the moment he first appears on-screen, Zenos is just so dang weird that I think most players' reactions to him, whether they like him or not, is to wonder "Why?" - "Who is this guy, why is he like this, why does he do what he does, why is he obsessed with my player character?" and so on. What's interesting about this urge to know what's up with him is that understanding/not understanding others is a key theme of Zenos's character. He doesn't understand other people or care about their motives, doesn't even really care to try because he treats others as if they're a different species of animal than him, and doesn't even care to explain or justify his own motives until confronted. To him any motive is as good as any other, he's just chosen to live for his own hedonism. Even on a meta-level he resists being understood - which is to say that it's very possible to get a shallow reading of him, "Oh, he's just crazy.", and run with that without ever looking at the deeper level because you've already decided that this perceived insanity doesn't justify his crimes.

This is why it feels like such a huge and meaningful change that his character development in Endwalker is marked by him asking the WoL so many questions - genuinely trying to understand them instead of projecting himself onto them, genuinely trying to connect with another person for the first time.

Now that I reach the end of this post I realize that there's not really any major points here that I haven't made in other posts. When I played Endwalker, I approached the idea of the final confrontation with Zenos with my WoL wanting to ask "Why?" - not that he's looking for a justification, because he finds Zenos's actions unforgivable, but because he's the type of hero who wants to understand even his enemies. Ironically, or fittingly, that need to understand is what keeps him human, from being like the mindless beast Zenos thought he was.

I don't really ship ZenosWoL because I can't see the feelings as being mutual for my WoL, but the desire to understand one another counts for something. His pursuit of the WoL might be what constitutes "love" in Zenos's mind, but as far as I'm concerned, "wanting to understand" another person is what I consider "love".

[kanerallels]

No no please I desperately want to hear your Bode opinions, I crave to know if anyone else has the same geek kind I do

Oh my stars Anon I got this ask and I am VERY pleased by it but also like. prepare for me to have an objectively wrong opinion here. It's not the, generally speaking, correct one, but it's just the one I have

Anyways I'm gonna put this under the cut because it's gonna get long and spoiler-ful but! Here are two posts that I think have amazing takes on the situation as well!

Post one

Post two

Let's start at the very beginning. It took me forever to actually get this game, and due to that fact and my lack of self control, I found out quite a few spoilers about the game. (not everything, but a lot of stuff.) This included Bode's betrayal

At first I was like, oh this random guy is gonna betray me! Guess I gotta prepare to be super ticked off for a little while since I always handle betrayal arcs in fiction like an adult (that's a lie. I do not handle betrayals in fiction well At All. Still getting over the Billy Russo situation in The Punisher and don't even get me started on season one of AOS-- both of which I also saw coming. I digress, but that was relevant)

But then. I started playing Coruscant. And Bode showed up

Logically, I was like "oh random dude who's gonna betray me-- better not get attached."

About ten or fifteen minutes later he was my (or Cal's, technically) new best friend. As you can see, it went really well (he was befriending BD too, okay???)

Okay rabbit trails aside-- I really, really liked Bode as a character. So much so that I kept forgetting that he was going to betray me, and that I shouldn't get too attached. I liked his ridiculous quips and his loyalty to Cal and the fact he kept calling him "brother" and his obvious and fierce love for his daughter and how much he shipped Merrical

So when he did turn evil... it hurt. A lot

Like I said, I don't handle these things well. And in a video game-- where I tend to project onto/pretend that I am the character-- it was just as bad, if not worse

And yet, despite all of that, despite everything he did to Cal and the crew, despite him killing Master Cordova and causing so many terrible things to happen. I couldn't really bring myself to hate him

For two reasons. Number one, if I let myself go down the road of actively hating a character like that, it will not go well. I speak from experience

And number two, Bode seemed to regret what he did. That scene right before the second Merrical kiss, on Jedha? He looked like he wanted to tell Cal, but (in his mind) knew he couldn't because he had to protect Kata above all else

On Nova Garon he called Cal his best friend, and he sounded so sad, like he knew he'd destroyed the relationship beyond repair

(we ain't touching on Bode on Tanalorr. Everything he did there was objectively terrible)

The point is... I get that Bode is supposed to be a bad guy, but I'm never gonna see him that way. I'm gonna see him as consumed by his own fear, so terrified at the idea of losing his family again (after all, the Jedi Order was his family first. Losing them, and then his wife? That's just trauma on top of trauma) that he will do LITERALLY anything and justify it with the fact that he's doing it for Kata

He's just so AFRAID. And fear leads to anger (which is a secondary emotion, as my mom likes to say. Anger never comes from nothing), which leads to the Dark side

And while there's part of me that still thinks that he was being an idiot about this whole situation (sir Tanalorr is a whole hecking planet?? Guarded by a freaking impassable nebula?? That's why you're here in the first place) the other part of me knows that when you're guided by that much fear, you're not thinking clearly

So yes, Bode did terrible things-- he killed Master Cordova. Indirectly, he caused Cere's death (which, unless I'm remembering wrong, which is totally possible, I don't think Cal blamed him for that? He seemed to blame Denvik-- but again, I could be wrong). He manipulated Cal and endangered his daughter with his rage on Tanalorr and nearly killed both Merrin and Cal and KRIFFING HIT MY BELOVED BD 1

But when I look at his motives? At first, I forgive him, because that's what I'm called to do. And at the point where he reaches no return, I just pity him

And honestly I think in the end that's where Cal ended up too? Like, he was obviously angry and hurt and going through a lot, but he did want to give him a second chance. And I think if Bode hadn't be so focused on what could happen and how he could possibly lose more family, he could have accepted that

But he didn't. Instead, he committed atrocities, and I do condemn what he did and how he handled the situation. It was wrong. But I'll always be more inclined to imagine the world where he did trust Cal, and got a second chance

But yeah, there are some of my extensive thoughts on Bode Akuna! There are a few more small things, that I may post about in the future-- but I'd LOVE to hear what your take on him is, Anon! Even if we disagree, I'm still very curious. Thank you very much for the ask, if you got this far, I appreciate you reading!

(TL;DR-- Bode Akuna did so many bad things but I do think he regretted them, no matter how much he justified them in his mind and to others. And I personally am forgiving him and imagining worlds where he made the right choice)

[smiling-dollmaker]

"Oh dear, the whites in your eyes seem a bit yellow. How about we go back to the clinic to get that checked out for you, darling? I would hate to see you go because of unnoticed liver failure..."

Rules;

No minors, none at all. If you don't have your age anywhere on your blog, I won't speak to you and I'll probably even block you.

You gotta be okay with fucked up shit like gore, body horror, drugging, snuf and any all type of medical procedures. This might seem obvious to some but I cannot stress this enough, he isn't 18+ in the lewd way, his lewdness is honestly extremely minimal, he is honestly more of a horror character than anything. I will do my best to tag everything.

This isn't a rule technically but to make sure; NO, I DO NOT AGREE WITH EVERYTHING FICTIONAL SURGEON MAN SAYS AND DOES. MY VIEWS ARE NOT PROJECTED ONTO HIM.

About;

Élie (Last name not found) is a surgeon, a doctor, a general medical man who likes to cut and snip off unhealthy parts from his patients. He finds great enjoyment in his work, often comparing his works to art and though he is extremely good at his job, it's a bit strange that most of the patients that come into his surgery room and not seen again.

But that isn't that strange, is it? I mean, a doctor who filed his own teeth to give himself fangs and who somehow always has messy makeup on his face is surely just some clutz who isn't actually that good at his job...right? And why is he always wearing those long black gloves even when he is outside his surgery room?

Perhaps if you get to know him better, you might find out!

Élie's last name is a mystery, always writing it down in a completely unreadable way while also always mumbling it if asked, at times he might even make something up.

Though he looks like he is in his mid twenties, he is actually nearing his fourties.

Yes, he has actually filed his teeth into fangs, if you are gullible enough you might actually think he is a vampire.

You can't fix him, you can't calm him down. He is a terrible person and he won't change, especially because he doesn't think he is a terrible person.

While unnerving to majority of people, Élie never stops smiling and will not no matter the circumstances. Him not smiling is usually a warning.

Don't ask him about the gloves, some secrets are meant to be kept hidden.

[ Creator talking; I made this account because I'm an idiot who likes making my friend happy, there is a good possibility I will be pretty inactive on this account unless I'm doing stuff with them. I'm over 20 years old, I'm a massive cunt and a neet and no I will not link my main because I only use it to repost gay shit and I'll probably not be following people unless we start something serious but for that, message me beforehand ]

Old art of Élie for visualisation, the lil victorian boy with a stick is his quasi-son from his original story, ignore him, he doesn't exist here.

[tea-and-finalfantasy]

don't get when ppl think an nsfw hc is ooc based on the kink itself?

ranting abt being bored w available stuff/mad i gotta make my own stuff and then get made to feel bad for liking writing submissive men LOL

like i get having preferences for what u write and don't write + what u enjoy writing and what u write bc someone requested it BUT if you have an ask blog and are taking requests, outside of the "i don't write x" things, don't have an ask blog if u like ???? aren't gonna branch out?

like you can have a hcs blog and call it that and only write what you want--that's it. that's literally it. but when u have an ask blog bc ur writing for other ppl and then u go "he wouldn't do this" like ??? just say ur writing for yourself and save us the trouble LOL

bc even if u feel like a character wouldn't have a specific kink, people aren't generally sending u scenarios bc they expect to be shot down or for the prompt to be watered down--they expect to have the actual scenario written

so again, just ??? make hcs. make posts. you don't need someone to send you the right message for you to write what you want to see--esp when u then turn ppl's requests into something they didn't ask for bc ur never going to write sub hcs WHICH IS FINE BUT DON'T GET MY HOPES UP AND DON'T TWIST WHAT I ASKED FOR

but when it comes to a kink being "ooc" it's like. yes i have my own hcs and although i'm p flexible or at least will write what ppl request if i'm taking requests (like i won't get a comm on etsy and go "well he wouldn't do that" like no he's doing it, who am i to barge in here and assert my own hc over theirs?), i do have personal opinions on what characters are super into what, how they act, and i shove all my preferences in there when i'm writing for myself!

but it's not the act that's "ooc" bc that's how you get "x person is a bottom and x person is a top and i just know--" rather than like. you cannot and should not look at someone and assume something about them physically, how they act, etc. is indicative of their sexual preferences

yeah i know it's just in fiction here and not irl but god it's so fucking grating to hear "oh this character wouldn't bottom" (like not even sub! someone is stating they will not get fucked in the ass bc they're "too tough") bc you've created this binary of who does what act all the time, who's allowed to do what--

as opposed to living a little? having fun with fiction? imagining what a tough and gruff character would be like in a vulnerable state and how they got there? what they're like giving into desires they probably feel they're not supposed to have? like you're not even making it interesting or complicated if u think a character wouldn't do it, u just see a muscular guy and go "ok i know he's a dom top all the time haha" like :/

boring, uninspired--and you're not even committing to like. "i only write what i want to write," you're going out of your way to bend these fictional dudes--who should be played with like dolls and put in scenarios--into a binary of what's acceptable for them instead of just saying u write dom top hcs bc that's what u love

u pretend there's some "correctness" to it or worse, some moral heft to it where u feel the need to specify the need for consent in a femdom scenario or a pegging scenario whereas it's a given in vanilla or het sex???

like i just want to project onto my characters in peace. i know by now, i can't go asking around for what i want as even gentle femdom is out of the question but christ. don't tell me my kinks are ooc for them based on the kink itself lol

like a character can do Anything in general like even if a writer doesn't anchor it in a scene where their personality outside of the scene comes out that's fine but like it's literally as easy as like (character doing x act) (character either doing so however they're comfortable like yea he calls u a slut but doesn't raise his voice or hit u or smtn) (or post-scene they revert back to the sweet character u think is unsuited for the kink bc u don't realize ppl are playing fucking pretend to get off here!!!)

[tofangirlornottofangirl]

so latest chapter tells us how gojo admits he doesn't feel lonely "now" but i wonder oh i wonder, do you think he felt lonely all those years without suguru? without having anyone else that's there for him alone and him as just satoru?

also for your previous ask, i agree about the whole playboy persona, like i just don't see him like that, i like to think he tried to date and is a flirty bastard but i don't think he ever went further than that because he just couldn't connect with people if u know what i mean. i think in an ideal world satoru has a chance to move on and try again, without being obsessed with fighting and all that.

hope all this made sense, im just trying to cope lmao

this is 100% based on my own projections onto him but gojo has looked like a lonely character from the very beginning to even currently, to a great extent, and only some panels in his school years have seemed like he didn't feel that lonely.

i believe humans will do literally anything, and i mean anything, to not feel lonely. it's basically wired into our survival instincts. so tbh any "coping mechanism" or way to stop being lonely is not only possible but kinda understandable.

most people around him are probably honestly just as emotionally constipated, which is why yuuji being there is a pretty shocking and stark contrast to everyone else, and it's because he didn't grow up in the world of jujutsu at all (although he has had a fair share of his own loss and trauma, it is more of the regular human experience variety). even geto and haibara, even though they weren't born into these sorcerer families, grew up seeing curses and probably being kinda traumatised bc of seeing these scary things as children, seeing their effects on people around them, and then being potentially ostracised or trying to hide it, so dealing with it all alone. the only other person we really see being so open at all was haibara but we didn't get to see a lot about him.

nanami as an adult is probably the most emotionally healthy person in the entire story (aside from yuuji like i said) and even then he's not very open at all. but he took time away from the jujutsu world, worked through some of his trauma, and organised his philosophy and opinions about so many things. not a single other character has at all ever seemed like they deal with emotional stuff in a somewhat normal way. this is why i keep bringing in the tinge of nihilism that i think comes with being a sorcerer. like yaga and gojo say in the very beginning of yuuji's journey, you gotta be a little insane to be in this line of work. if you attempt to bring in regular-people morals into the mix, you will go insane, like geto did. you gotta be like that from the start.

all this to say, that i totally expect almost any relationships in the canonverse to be dysfunctional, and if they're actually any kind of functional that's 1. very surprising and 2. probably the result of an insane amount of work and effort being put into making it functional. our favs don't even go to therapy TT not to be a wet blanket or anything this is just what I think of the canonverse. however i have a lot of headcanons where i make it so that everyone is happy (and goes to therapy!!!). i also don't really know how to cope with the chapter or unhappy stuff in my fiction. i just try to ignore or avoid thinking about it until i either have no choice, have an outburst of emotions, or actually forget about it and move on to something else lol. yeah. not great.

anyway! i'm sorry I keep writing these essays on every ask. also, just as an aside, all of my thoughts are obviously coloured by my personal experiences, and it doesn't say on the blog or description, but i'm nd, queer, possibly aroace but who knows not me, and also don't really consider my gender identity as like a solid thing ykwim. so yeah whatever i say is coloured through these lenses. i haven't given a lot of thought to in-universe canon relationships very much because it doesn't seem like the story would ever go in that direction. i tend to mix in headcanons and completely made up AUs into any relationship thoughts i have about anyone in the verse.

[wiypt-writes]

25 Days Of CHRIS-Mas

Day 25: A CHRIS-Mas Carol

Part 2: Present

Summary: You and Chris have a love/hate relationship…in that you love to hate one another. But it hasn’t always been that way, and sometimes, to build a better future, someone has to be the bigger person and remember why and how it wasn’t always that bad.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Actress Reader

Warnings: Bad Language, smut (NSFW, 18+)

W/C: Hazard a guess about 7k ish?! Poss more.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, any likeness to any persons or events in real life are purely co-incidental. I do not own any characters contained herein bar the reader and/or any original characters. I do not give consent for my work to be copied and posted/translated onto any other sites. If you see this fiction anywhere other than Tumblr, it has been taken without permission.By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer and ALL warnings posted here.

A/N: So this is my first EVER RPF and came from an idea I’ve had in my head for ages. It’s split into 3 parts. I know some creative license is taken with the timings of filming some things mentioned, but in my world covid didn’t happen so… roll with me! Posted on mobile with my left hand. Apologies in advance for any mistakes!

Part 1: Past

Yesterday is the past, tomorrow is the future. Today is a gift, that’s why they call it the present.

December 2021

"Apparently, we’re fucking again.” Your voice filled Chris’ ear and he laughed as he readjusted the phone, tipping some kibble into Dodger’s bowl.

"Happens every time we do something together. I take it the Ghosted casting news broke?"

“I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to have the time, what with you, Seb, Cavill and Hemmy, I’m spreading it about.”

Since wrapping up four more Marvel films with Chris, your tenure ended as Marvel's Shadow in a few guest appearances in the Falcon and the Winter Soldier; a Sudanese spy drama with Chris, as well as an original script murder mystery and now a second book to script spy film both starring Chris as a male lead, not to mention the countless other projects you had managed to book in the last eight years. Since patching things up in Orlando that night, you and Chris become close friends. You’d become his preferred leading lady, and the fandom frequently went wild over it.

"That's a herpes nightmare not to mention the gonorrhea." Chris snorted.

"Yeah about that, Imma need the number for your clinic.”

"That's rude." He deadpaned.

"You're not denying it.”

“For the record, I didn’t have gonorrhoea,” he sighed, before he smirked to himself, “it was chlamydia.”

"God, you're disgusting."

"How's Cavill?”

“Oh he’s great. Such a genuinely nice guy. His girlfriend is lovely too. Made me feel so welcome. I’m sad it’s all fine now but hey, season three starts June so… it’s all good!”

"Am I going to get to see you and celebrate Christmas before I head back home? I'm only in LA until Tuesday. Then I won't be back for a while."

“Yeah, I get back in tomorrow evening. You all done on Grey Man?”

"Except for ADR later, yeah," he replied. "I noticed you weren't on the reshoot list."

"I'm that good."

“That or you already did most before you fucked off on press…”

"That too." You laughed. "So, don't get mad, but I kinda grabbed a couple of gifts while I'm here."

"From London?" Chris chuckled, "you know I've been there quite a few times, most of them with you."

"I know. But it's Christmas and these things spoke to me. They practically screamed 'Chris' as I walked by. Or was that when I was in Prague two weeks ago with Hemmy?"

“Name dropping doesn’t impress me.” He teased.

"No? What does impress you then?”

"Hard work, honesty, kind heart...."

"Pretty face, nice ass?”

"Meh, depends," he chuckled

You laughed, “okay, so I need to finish up packing but I’ll let you know when I’m back. Any night in particular good for you?”

"Anytime Friday to Sunday, that okay?"

"Saturday night then?"

“Great, seven work?"

"Seven is fine."

"See you soon."

With a smile, Chris slid his phone onto his pocket and looked around. He hadn’t seen you now for almost two months and he was look forward to catching up.

He typically wasn't in LA for the holiday season, especially not this late into it, but with his reshoot schedule, he was needed. His house lacked some holiday spirit but he thought to soon fix that with your visit.

By Friday, with Scott's help, Chris had put together a small amount of spirit from a little table top tree to a fresh wreath and garland. He even had a nice swag on his mantel and some lights strung out back.

Whilst you yourself weren’t an LA native so to speak, you were spending Christmas in the area with your family this year, and he knew your place would be decorated ridiculously as soon as you got the chance.

Saturday afternoon arrived, and brought with it a quick trip to the garden centre followed by the store to make sure his fridge was stocked along with topping up his snack supplies. A quick shower followed by a check of his emails and social media took him through to seven, and the security system informed him your access code had been used to open his gate.

He hadn't even given you the chance to knock before he threw open his front door only to see the tail lights of her Uber behind you and you on his porch, dressed in a soft cream coloured cashmere sweater, denim jacket and black skinny slacks, leopard ballet flats on your feet.

"Merry Christmas!" You beamed and his chest hitched a little at your smile.

"Merry Christmas!” He grinned back, pulling you in for a hug and lifting you off your feet slightly.

Dodger waited patiently in the entry for them to enter before he gave his sweet, tail wagging welcome with a jump to your hip and an attempted lick to your face.

“Oh, baby!” You giggled, kneeling down. “I missed you too, Dodge. I did!”

“Too?” Chris teased, arms folded as he leaned against the wall. “So you missed me?”

You stood and popped a shoulder, "I did."

He smirked. Even he had to admit that there had been a shift in your friendship lately and while you text and talked often, something felt good about having you in his house tonight, even if it were only a few minutes.

"I see you decorated," you commented, pulling him from his head.

"Well, I couldn’t exactly let Miss Christmas come round without making the effort.”

"Meh, I'm going for the minimalist look this year. With five days to go, I've managed the tree and a wreath. I don't care to make the effort with so little time this year left."

"Very uncharacteristic of you, Y/N, I'm shocked."

“It’s just been crazy,” you sighed, “I don’t think I’ve ever had work commitments so late before ever.”

"Me either, it's been a weird year."

You made your way into the kitchen where you set your bags down on the island chair and leaned against the Italian marble. Dodger had followed, wondering if he'd get a snack to eat.

"Wine? Champagne? Beer?" Chris offered.

"Fizz, please," you smiled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh stop!” You laughed, “I can’t hear you say that without thinking of Cap!”

Chris bellowed a good laugh and smiled as he poured the Fizz and grabbed himself a beer. He then set about with small conversation about nothing really as he set out snacks, pre-arranged on platters.

"Well, look at you Mr. Fancy." You popped a strawberry slice in your mouth.

"I had help. Scott's and Steve are queens at throwing party plates together."

“I half expected them to be here,” you chuckled at his choice of words, “I’m assuming they’re both going to Boston for Christmas?”

"I don't know about Steve yet. His family had some sad losses this year so he's a little undecided. Scott and I fly back together Tuesday morning."

“Shit, that’s rough.” You frowned.

"Yeah, I know." He sighed, "anyway, you said your family is coming in, when do they arrive?"

You sighed with a smile, "yep, bright and early Thursday morning from y/ht. I'm excited. It's been too long since seeing them all at once."

“They here for New Year too?

“Erm, no. Actually, about that… I’m gonna be in Boston on New Years.”

"What? Seriously?" He was shocked, and a little disappointed you hadn’t said anything.

“Don’t look at me like that! I only found out yesterday myself, it’s a work… thing.”

Chris narrowed his eyes at you , "alright, have secrets, I get it." He picked up a cheese cube and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh for… fine, but if I tell you and you tell anyone I will murder you in your sleep.” You folded your arms, “I’m meeting Feige."

"In Boston?" Now he was really confused.

“Feige is from Boston you dork!”

"Well no shit, but..." He laughed, "but.... Okay, spill."

“He’s there for Christmas and asked if I could meet him. He has something to pitch to me and they need a decision quick to make it work.”

"Interesting. So you're going in in the dark, huh?"

“Kinda… from what I know, Shadow’s time might not be quite as done as everyone things. They’re talking about her being a part of the Blade movie plus an origin film of her own.”

"No shit?" Chris grinned. "That's wicked cool."

“Yeah, I dunno.” You shrugged, “her arc ended well in Falcon And The Winter Soldier. She got the closure she needed so this… it’s gotta be right and feel right, you know? Although I will admit, her being part of Blades world makes sense seeing as she’s half vampire.”

Chris nodded, "it does, but you're absolutely right." He reached for her hand across the counter, "it has to be what you want or there's no going back. You did a fantastic job with the character and I couldn't see anyone else in the role. Don't let them bully you into something you can't feel."

“Oh, no I won’t. And it’s gots work around the filming for season three of the Witcher, which as it stands is al I have next year, I was planning on taking a bit of time out. That said, Kevin did say there would be some shit for me to film next year which leads me to believe she’ll have an end credit scene or cameo in one of next years films if I go for it.”

"Hey, like I said, don't get sucked in. We all know how deep Marvel commitments run and I think you've worked more than enough to deserve some time to do something you want. Whether that be a break or another project that you're passionate about. I can honestly say, taking. 2020 off was a huge blessing for me."

“Yeah well, post season three I got shit,” you laughed, “spoiler alert, they’re killing Hanya off. They told me when they renewed all the contracts so…”

"So that's it huh, three seasons?" Chris chuckled, "you're forgetting something though."

“What?”

"Me. Our next project."

"Fuck… that too. Jesus, it’s no wonder Jake goes mad at me, I should pay him double. So yeah, basically, I don’t know!” You groaned, banging your head on the surface of the island. “Let’s change the subject. New Years Eve, Boston…” you peeked up at him, grin on your face. “Party?”

"At my place, like always, and I want you to come!" He smiled brightly, hopeful you’d say yes.

“News flash, I was gonna whether you invited me or not.”

"You're always welcome, any time of day or night."

“I’ll hold you to that when I’m bored of hiding in my hotel room.”

"Uh, cancel that reservation, you're staying at mine. I have plenty of room, and Scott and Steve, if he comes, can stay in the guest room in the main house. You could come and go from the guest house over the garage."

“I don’t wanna put you out,” you shook your head, “I’m gonna be there for five days.”

"Nonsense. Being in some bougie hotel for the holiday sucks. Why not stay with friends and enjoy it more?"

You hesitated, taking a deep breath, before you smiled. “Okay, what the hell. The world already thinks we’re fucking so…”

"Cheers to that..." He tilted his bottle at her.

You helped Chris with dinner, the two of you sitting after things were cleaned up in his living room with the dark skyline out the windows and a fire roaring nearby.

"So, I'm really excited about these. I hope you like them." You beamed giddily as you pulled a few wrapped items from the bag you’d brought in with you.

Chris started with the longer shaped box and tore open the festive paper after untying the bow. He lifted the lid on the simple white box and his eyes widened at the gift inside.

Handmade, blown glass pilsner glasses sat nestled in a velvet cushion for safe transport.

“All the way from Prague,” you smiled as he gently picked one up out of the box. "I thought they'd go great with your tap in Boston."

“They’re fantastic!” He grinned, looking at you, “really…I love ‘em!”

"Good! I'd hoped so!"

He set the gift down on the table and grabbed the gift bag, plucking the tissue from the open top. He reached inside and pulled out a tissue wrapped gift, one of three inside. He unraveled the tissue to find a delicate glass bulb adorned with gold filigree and garnet gems.

"It's a little girly but, I don't know, I thought you'd like it for some reason."

“Errr it’s shiny, you know I love shiny stuff!”

“Yeah, should have skipped the hassle and got you a tube of aluminium foil.”

"Simple things, sweetheart, simple things."

The other two ornaments in the bag were both handmade but of paper mache and simple, both he still enjoyed.

“Okay so… my gift for you isn’t anywhere near as imaginative…”

"So, that's not the point, you meatball."

“No, I know but…” he shrugged, standing up, “wait here and prepare to be completely underwhelmed.”

You sat and waited for Chris to return. It didn't take long and when he'd shown himself, he came with a large gift bag handing it off to you.

You pulled the tissue out and peeked inside, smiling at its contents. You reached in and grabed the gift, pulling out a beautiful green house plant with wandering vines.

"I love it!" You smiled.

“Thought it might replace the one I accidentally murdered earlier this year. But in my defence, I did warn you not to leave me in charge of anything green.”

"You've done fine all this time. I seriously love it, thank you!" You reached your arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "I love it because you picked it out, and I know how picky you are when it comes to plants. You take your time looking at each one and that takes thought."

“It kinda reminded me of that one that Jamie Lee had in her trailer.”

You smiled and added a wink, "Thank you." You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Your welcome.” His hands smoothed up your back and you let out a contented sigh.

“I really did miss you, you give the best hugs.”

"Is it stupid to say the same thing?" Chris wondered.

"What that I give great hugs?" You snorted. He looked at you with a serious glance. You shook your head 'no' .“Nah, I don’t think so.”

"Can I be honest?"

"Please..." you waited for him to continue.

"I've been thinking a lot, about how long we've known each other, how much we've worked together, it's been years now. And the one thing that keeps coming back to my mind is Costa Rica."

You stilled a little and pulled away, your eyes searching his. “And I’m assuming you mean the wrap party and not just Costa Rica in general?”

"Yeah," he whispered.

You swallowed, “why? Why now?”

"I don't know. But it's been so long and I can still remember that night in perfect clarity."

“I… erm… me too.”

"I don't know what I'm doing but, I know I want to kiss you again. If you want me you. I feel like we had a missed opportunity and I'm really interested to see where we can go. I like you, I've liked you for a while and given our lives now, I think we have the chance to try. We have the time to try."

“Is that why you sat me here?” You blinked, your voice surprisingly steady despite the blood pounding in your ear as your chest hummed with anticipation.

"No, not entirely, I mean I wanted to see my friend, but if I don't tell you before I leave, I don't know if I'd have the sac to again."

“That’s not what I meant…” You pointed upwards and watched as his eyes tracked upwards.

“Fahk, no…” he snorted as he spotted the Mistletoe. "I didn't even... fahking Scott!”

“Shame…”

His eyes flicked quickly to yours and there wasn't even a blink as he registered your 'shame' before his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft, gentle, nothing like the urgent one you’d shared all those years ago and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that rolled in your throat.

"Tell me to stop." He pulled back breathily.

"No."

“Y/N…” his voice was practically begging.

"I want this."

His eyes searched yours, you assumed for any shred of doubt. But knew he wouldn’t find one. Your hands cupped his lightly bearded face and pulled him down to the couch cushions with you.

His nose softly bumped yours as he licked his lips. “We do this, we’re crossing that line…”

"I know," you tilted up and kissed him again pulling at the back of his sweater.

He shifted, allowing you to yank it over his head, tossing it to the floor. And then his lips were back on yours.

His lips carried over your jaw to that joint by your ear, "I'm not... We're not doing this here," he hummed against your skin, his hands wandering like the vines of the plant he gifted you.

“Oh…okay,” you stuttered a little as his lips caressed that spot on your neck that made you melt.

Shirtless, he sat back, pulling you with him. His large hands cupping your face as he kissed you until you both stood.

You didn’t want him to stop, and to your delight he didn’t. Instead, his hands slid down over the cheeks of your ass to the back of your thighs. His knees bent and quick as a flash you were in his arms, giggling against his mouth as your legs wrapped around his slim waist.

You giggled as he chuckled against your lips, carrying you down the hall towards his room. Dodger trotted along behind the two of you, only to have the door kicked closed on his sweet face.

“Poor Dodge!”

"Fahk that." His lips silenced your next quip back, tongue gliding along your bottom lip. Thick fingers pulled at your sweater hem, lifting the garment over your head.

You and Chris had shared on screen kisses before, but there was something so different and natural about the way this fit that it made your belly flip. Because for the first time you knew he wasn’t faking it, just like you hadn’t been.

It was just like Costa Rica, passionate but soft. His hands held your waist as you stepped back towards his bed, the two of you falling into the sheets.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” his voice was a whisper as his hands trailed delicately up your sides, his finger tips brushing your skin.

"Don't waste anymore time then," you whispered. "We've got forever if we want it."

“There is one thing that we’re not considering,” he gently nipped at your collarbone.

"Which is?" Your own fingers curled through his hair and down his neck over his shoulders.

"Does this means I’m gonna hafta change your name in my phone from Pain In My Ass?”

You stilled, and then his laugh rang out across the room as you slapped his shoulder. In a quick move that you’d learnt when filming, your legs locked round his abs you flipped him over to his back. He grunted as you straddled his hips.

“Jerk.”

His hips tilted upward and you moaned, "you gonna let figure out what you like or are you gonna talk all night, baby?"

“You’re the one that keeps talking, Evans.”

In a flash, you were on your back again and his lips were on your skin, fingers finding their way to your slacks as his lower body bore the brunt of his weight, balancing directly over you, one hand perfectly straining to hold him still.

You raised your hips to allow him space to pull your slacks down over your hips. Without so much as a glance, he tossed them over his back, leaving you below him in nothing but your lace bra and panties.

"Fahk," he groaned, taking you in.

Your own eyes roved over his broad shoulders, his defined chest and abs. Your gaze followed that trail of hair down from his pecs, over his stomach to where it disappeared into the waistband of his jeans, just behind the buckle of his belt.

You couldn’t help but smirk at the obvious bulge at the crotch of his dark denims. Knowing you’d done that, made you feel a sense of pride.

Your fingers reached for his buckle but he was just a little out of reach, "Jesus, just, get them off."

“Impatient much?” He smirked, his hands making short work, the clanking of metal ringing in your ears as you sat up, your hand curling round the back of his neck.

"Yes, I am." You latched your lips to his and gave him a dirty tongue grind that made him moan while your free hand grabbed at his hard cock.

“Fahk,” he hissed, wriggling out of his jeans before he completely collapsed on top of you, tongue fighting yours for dominance.

Down your neck he went, nipping at your skin, laving at your collarbone before spilling your breasts out of the cups of your bra. You whimpered as his tongue danced across your nipple. He repeated the action, large hands curling round your hips as you arched your back, pushing your body further into his.

"Need you," you whined, "inside."

With a groan his lips crashed to yours in a short but bruising kiss and he pulled back, fingers curling into the lace of your underwear

A heavy breath escaped his nose as he looked at you, ready and wet. This foreplay was taking too long and the anticipation was literally making you squirm.

You could tell by the very large bulge he was sporting, and the weight of him in your palm before, that made him out to be bigger than anyone you've taken.

A split second later he was fishing in the drawer to the night stand, pulling out a foil square.

As you watched him, you took the liberty to remove your bra whilst he settled the condom over his shaft. Now completely naked, you watched in awe at the slender hips near yours, the wide shoulders and washboard abs and the tattoos, the loads and loads of tattoos that littered his skin.

His hand curled around his dick as he shuffled closer, lining himself up. Then, he took both your hands in his, twining your fingers together as he pinned them either side of your head.

A gentle tilt of his hips saw him slide into you, his eyes locked on yours as the both of you let our soft noises of satisfaction.

"Oh that's good," you bit your lip. He filled and stretched you, his body warm over yours.

“Glad you-approve.” His last word was timed with another gentle thrust forward that had your eyelids fluttering shut.

"Please don't stop... like that," you panted. "Fuck." You could feel your eyes roll behind your eyelids. It felt almost too good. You were well and ruined already.

"Baby, I don’t think I could… Stahp… if I wanted to.” His words punctuated by pants, you once more felt his lips on your neck. That beard scratched at your skin with every complimenting roll of his hips.

"Say it again," you whimpered as his pace picked up a little.

“What?” His mouth dipped into the hollow of your throat, kissed chaining up to your chin

"Baby...." you whispered.

A slow kiss cut you off, his thrusts deep as he brushed against that spot deep inside of you. Forehead pressed to yours, your noses bumped.

“Baby…” his lips hovered over your own, curling into a smirk as you let out a sinful groan. He repeated the word a few more times until you were clawing at his back with your blunt nails.

"Chris....." His name was a whimper on your lips as you drew nearer to your end. It was delicious torture, the way your body was building and teetering on the edge.

"You're close, I can feel you.”

And you were, so close, but you also didn’t want this to end. As if he could guess your thought, "cum for me, baby. I'll make you feel good again, I promise."

So you did. You let go of that last thread of self control you’d been clinging onto. Your body trembled from the tips of your toes to the crown of your hair. You squeezed around him and Chris had no control as he jutted forward a little harder than before

“God, honey, can feel you…”

"Yeah," you whimpered. "So good."

“Fahk, I’m… I'm gonna…” his words turned into a grunt as his hips turned sloppy. Burried to the hilt, he came, his face burried in the crook of your neck, his entire body growing rigid before he sighed, relaxing over you.

Breatheless and satiated, you led beneath him, thankful for the moment you'd shared.

Your hands slid up his back, one splaying between his shoulder blades, the other tangling in his hair as you let out a small hum of contentment.

"We're gonna do that again, right?" Chris asked, his breath still hot on your neck.

"I hope so."

“Good, me too.”

Neither of you knew what the future would bring, but chances are if you were given a look ahead, you'd both like what you'd see.

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Part 3: The Future

[rinadragomir]

Hi, it's Ty anon bothering you again

I know ty cares about kit that part is obvious for me but i think i don't see it as specially romantic because we don't see ty interracting with other people who aren't his family to get a comparison with how he interracts with kit . And also if i had someone popping up in my life like that and if i liked them i would spend a lot of time looking at them too and be pretty obsessed in general tbh . I don't know maybe it's because i'm maybe arospec or because i'm too used to neurotypical romances being always coded the same . Anyway it's canon now so whatever. I'm pretty curious about how cassie will write ty in twp.

HI ANON👀😑🤗

Hehehehe I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME A WEEK OR STH, BLAME MY STUPID UNI

Oh hmmm but I do see some romance between them👀

I really think it's an individual thing. I interpret Ty's behavior as the behavior of a boy in love. But then again we project our experience and expectations onto the fiction characters.

"And also if i had someone popping up in my life like that and if i liked them i would spend a lot of time looking at them too and be pretty obsessed in general tbh"

If this had happened to me, I would have said I'm in love. I'm not aroace so yeah ;-; I'm a weak mess😭

Yep yep! I'm also really curious about what Cassie will do with his character in twp🤔I hope she'll really try.

I WON'T PRETEND I'M NOT HAPPY THEY'RE CANON, CAUSE I'M HAPPY👉🏻👈🏻but your feelings towards them are definitely valid. If you don't see Ty being romantically interested in Kit, it's okay! Everyone has their own experience of reading the same book.🤗

[starlightaxolotl]

(purposely clicking the button on the left) 🕯💡🍙🔗 and then for ur ocs 🧼?

sdl;kfhjsd I had to check to make sure you didn't accidentally do The Thing since you so casually mention it.

🕯- Share a scene in your latest WIP

When a weight slams into your back and you land face-first into the snow coated leaves you shout out. A strong hand holds onto your neck, pushing you against the dirt. “Did you think you could come here and finish the job without me knowing?! Do you think I’m that stupid!?”

Oh. Oh shit, of course. You were so determined to reunite with your honorary uncle you forgot for a blissful moment that you looked like his terrible former business partner. You didn’t think about the fact that it was dark enough that the few subtle differences wouldn’t matter.

💡- What’s a idea you’ve enjoyed but never/couldn’t write?

I had such big ideas for Like Father, Like Son but I just don't think I'm going to be able to write it at least not right now. I don't know how to anymore but I do want to one day figure it all out and at least release a big detailed outline of it because I want others to know the scale this idea had in my head.

🍙- What story (fanfiction or published work) had the biggest impact on you?

Ooo Okay so like this is really interesting to think about. I can't remember names but there was this really really fantastic fic I read as a young teen in the Generator Rex fandom that has had such a profound impact on me. There's a couple of fanfics I can't remember the name of that I wish I could go back and read again because I will vividly remember scenes and go damn that was so good. I think in terms of published fiction what had the biggest impact on me was this one scene in the third book in the selection trilogy. I still remember reading that for the first time and going no way I read that wrong for sure.

🔗- What has been your favorite dynamic to write for? (romantic or platonic)

I think if I didn't answer with either the Father-Daughter dynamic or a really close sibling bond as my favorite I'd be lying. These thematically appear in almost everything I write. I think it's because I can project into both. I like them. Also honorable mention: Friend who worms their way into Character's life and slowly breaks down the walls because that's also great.

🧼 - Which character is most likely to walk around in a wal-mart/gas station decked out in armor/cosplay/hero costume

I'm inclined to say either Gigi or Keys! Both seem like the type to do that kind of thing! Maybe Sadie when she's a teen.

[ancientbeast]

cringe thoughts below the cut

i used to identify really hard with the "kin" label and there's really nothing wrong with that fundamentally but. it's also not me. i looked into it again like as a casual thing a couple years ago but it was never right because that's not what it is to me

ever since i was very little i would glom onto fictional characters (or, more rarely, real life people) and be convinced i was them. like yes, i projected and related to them like most if not everyone does, but also every time i do something or make a decision or blink it's always through that character's eyes. and really there's no upper limit for when you should grow out of something, and i certainly don't believe in that idea, but i'm not a child anymore and frankly i feel it stronger than ever. even when i'm not going through rough times it's there. sometimes the image of me will switch, like when i switch to another character, and it's kind of hard to describe, but i don't lose my memory or anything. maybe i just have a really active imagination?

i don't like thinking about this too much because it gives me major identity issues and also i get paranoid that when i acknowledge this stuff that people will think it's not such a big deal, and it kind of isn't (except when it is), but it's a major part of who i am. i hesitate to use the words "delusion" because... i don't know. i feel like i'm faking it. an obsession? i don't know, i don't need to pathologize it (oh but i do)

anyway. it's a moot point because can you imagine lord summerisle typing all this?

[ruby-whistler]

(quicksandblock) hi! I just left you a giant wall-of-text response on your Dream post, and though I think it came across well enough, I just want to state my lack of hostile intent over here as well lol. I know stuff like this that people feel strongly about can get very tense so I just wanted to make doubly certain you know I'm not trying to pick a fight or anything. it kind of sucks that I feel like I need to clarify that but that's fandom culture for you sometimes :P

also, I would love to talk to you about Dream characterization. I think I disagree with you on a lot of different points and I love his character, so I'm very interested in understanding your perspective!

hey, hello! found a c!dream enthusiast/enjoyer, that’s cool, hi! :]

[copied part i put in front of each reply, hence different capitalization]

Alright, so first as a quick disclaimer, I’m going to put a summary of the original post’s points, just to ensure that we’re on the same page;

The post does say:

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because it continuously hurts people who relate to and/or sympathize with him, also dehumanization in general is an inherently wrong mindset

- don’t attack people who sympathize with him because he’s a victim of abuse besides other things

The post never says:

- you cannot hate c!Dream and not sympathizing with him is wrong

- the things c!Dream has done are to any degree excused

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because he’s a good person

- people who dehumanize c!Dream are real life abuse apologists

If you read the post and didn’t get these points from it, i advise you to reread it as I made pretty much all of these abundantly clear.

[end of disclaimer]

i never said anyone could infringe on his human rights! i… literally never said that! i said “they ignore” when characters do it, but that was a run-on sentence, i get how that might’ve been easily misunderstood. but yes, he’s a fictional character, i’d never said people could actually hurt him or anything in that sense.

the thing is, i still find them saying they enjoy it… wrong? the people yelling in tommy’s chat for c!dream to hurt him more were freaking victim blaming pricks, and if what they did was the widespread fandom opinion it would be hurting actual people with trauma. i ask people to look at the c!dream situation with the same severity, because it’s actually happening and it’s highly disturbing, not just from principle, but because of what it leads to within the community.

sorry for comparing his situation to c!tommy, but narratively i believe the prison arc is a deliberate parallel to exile, and comparing his situation to someone they’ve not dehumanized seems to be the only way to knock sense into some people.

i am happy you don’t seem to be one of the people who dehumanize him. you’re not the target audience of this post - neither are abuse victims who project onto him. i know people who c!tommy reminds of their abuser (because of personality traits), or even c!quackity, that’s fine. they’re totally free to hate their respective character, of course, without being,, actually right about them. that being said, majority of this fandom is dehumanizing c!dream and being mad at people sympathizing with him “on behalf of the abuse victims”, not actual victims themselves, and by doing this they are unknowingly hurting other people rather than helping anything, and spreading misinformation as well as making a lot of fans in general uncomfortable. i believe this is something that needs to change in the community.

hating him is fine, but group-based dehumanization in my mind is not. if you go on twitter and search “c!dream” and see 100 people saying they wish the abuse victim you project onto is hurt more (this is not a twitter thing, c!dream tag is the same thing, a majority of the crit is untagged but it,, doesn’t really matter because even tagged hate riles up more people) that freaking sucks and is something that the community needs to work on, not shoved under the rug and pretend it wasn’t there because some people tag it.

“the abuse victims who are hurt by people saying they should be sympathetic towards Dream are in fact just as hurt as the abuse victims who relate to Dream and are hurt by people saying his evil.”

this is not wrong. it’s right actually, but i’m not talking about this fandom calling him evil/unable to be sympathized with/irredeemable. i mean, that’s hurtful dehumanization as well, but this community doesn’t “say he’s evil” it “says he deserves to keep being horribly abused and/or die”.

and… i wasn’t talking about/saying abuse victims should sympathize with him either? i’ve said like five times that people can hate him as much as they want, but dehumanization is another thing. it’s the majority of this community (this post wasn’t targeting abuse victims in the slightest) taking away his positive human qualities, hence believing he doesn’t deserve human rights, and turning him into some sort of punching bag or personification of evil, which i find deeply disturbing since he’s being related to by abuse victims, and also blatantly incorrect to the character.

so, you’d be right, if the situation was what you described. it… really isn’t. the dream smp fanbase isn’t populated by abuse victims in any corner. it’s two small groups, one of them hurt (undeservingly) by a few and the other one hurt (no more or less undeservingly) by a majority of the fandom without anyone batting an eye.

and this post isn’t even about abuse victims in the first place; it’s about dehumanization. while its impact plays a big role in why i wrote this, things like these being widespread in the fandom makes so many people uncomfortable or pressured not to sympathize with a recently made sympathetic character that they might (but could not) relate to. relating to him myself, i might not have a say in this, but my compassion in general made me switch over to the c!dream sympathetic people, not anyone in the community or projection.

the results i relayed here weren’t the only results of the survery. people mentioned pandora’s vault as their reasons for being dream apologists,, over and over and over again. a lot of them mentioned the fandom response specifically.

it’s making the fandom not only unsafe to a small group of traumatized people, but also fans in general, who are equally as important to feel comfortable. hell, the reason dream apologists are such a tight-knit community that accepts little to no outside feedback is because of the hatred that is endlessly nurtured outside, that makes people feel anxious or not safe just for sympathizing with a victim of abuse.

i myself find this a problem that people should attempt to change beyond using crit tags more. feel free to not agree with that, but a lot of affected people do.

i agree the disc finale was actually cathartic! well, that’s a lie, i used to hate c!dream’s guts before that but that was the very instance where i saw a person behind the mask and went “oh, this is a whole mess isn’t it”, but it was,, cathartic to a lot of other people that didn’t use to have intense empathy to inanimate objects as children djskdjsk (i was a weird kid and still am, don’t mind that)

do you know what is cathartic? when a dog terribly bites a child, gets kicked away and gets put in a cage. do you know what isn’t cathartic? …that dog getting repeatedly beaten, starved and abused while trapped in said cage. even in fiction, and i say that as someone who was terribly bitten by a dog.

i don’t mind fictional characters suffering - frick, angst is my jam, i’ll write a character dying over and over again and have fun, but people justify that or make fun of people who don’t by saying openly that they enjoy it,, because he’s done bad things.

here comes the double standard. the exile arc wasn’t cathartic just because tommy burnt down a house, because hell, that wasn’t fair retribution. same goes for dream.

there is a difference between enjoying dark media (something i do frequently and is something i like doing) and open dehumanization and often normalized harassment of people who don’t do the same or condemn that. that is something that in my mind shouldn’t be a mainstream thing in the community.

to be fair, people saying an abuse victim no longer being hurt is “bad writing” or “insensitive” as i’ve seen people say would probably piss me off, but i’m,, not going to harass them. maybe a passive-aggressive vague-post if enough big accounts do it, but i think that’s justified. feel free to disagree - i still respect abuse victims who wouldn’t like that, but people who just don’t want the writers to humanize a character they’ve dehumanized will probably grind my gears.

this community,, isn’t working like this. i wrote this because people are repeatedly being hurt by the community or feel bad in it because of widespread opinions and dehumanization of a character that is as of late written to be sympathetic to the audience. that’s not a disagreement, the people who are actually sympathetic are a minority in the fandom, which would be fine with me, if they weren’t constantly invalidated, triggered and harassed as a direct result of the dehumanization discussed in this post.

besides the fact that the principle of dehumanization applied to c!dream is wrong - and if people find themselves doing that, it’s good for them to find a way to realize that, such as this post, because projection =/= dehumanization, and this post is targeting one, not the other - this is why i wrote this post. i still believe my points are valid and important for this fandom to consider.

you know, we could talk about the characterization right now - but after this i’m going onto a two month long hiatus for the sole purpose of studying the character. i’m not joking, this is what i’m dedicating my summer to. since i’m also closing my asks because of this, i can write this down and @ you when i’m done? :D i’d love to talk about him but i’m going to have so much more evidence after this, so maybe we can put this off for a while if you don’t mind! of course feel free to continue the dehumanization debate in a string of reblogs since it’s pretty much a different debate entirely.

( @zrenia @caketexturepack just tagging some people who responded to your response and might be interested in the continuation of the debate - also curious anon i saw your two asks i was just busy djsjdks please don’t spam about people who replied to me, i have a bad memory but i write this stuff down, actually )

[hotmess-exe]

I'm asking you about your favourite OC😌 anything you wanna say!

thank you 😔 my tummy has healed

his name is Eric and he's like genuinely, actually my oldest original character. i luv him very much

he was originally the older brother of my very first OC but that girl was scrapped for being boring af many years ago. i never let go of Eric, though, and he quickly became my absolute favorite

he is very kind, very compassionate, and among the sweetest characters i'll ever make. he's stupid pretty and wicked smart. he's the sort to make friends out of enemies without even trying.

he struggles with depression and will do so, so much for others in his quest to not let people down, to the point of self-neglect. ...i think i've always known that this is a manifestation of my own personal baggage 😂😂

i plan to make him a love interest in my second interactive fiction project! very excited to finally write him in full again. and like, properly fleshed out for the first time. so much nuance and depth to him 😭 i can't wait

i share a stupid number of coincidental, retrospective parallels with him. i realized this during the pandemic lol. i foisted a lot of concepts and things teen!me did not understand onto this character when i first wrote him... just to eventually look back at my own life and be like, 'holy shit, that's me' or 'holy shit, wait. i've done that.' i was 13 when i created him, so this still trips me out:

he is and has always been gay, even though i didn't have any grasp of what being LGBTQ+ is like outside of the facts that gay men and lesbians exist and people hate them for no good reason. that 'them' now very much includes me 😂 and all my friends lol

he is and has always been a sex worker, even though i did not have a proper understanding of sex work and how/when it differs from trafficking at ALL at that age. i wish i could say i barely understood sex either, but i'm p sure i had a porn addiction in hs, so no Fast forward to me at Eric's original age (19/early 20s) and I was, you guessed it, doing sex work.

i had a deeply problematic and frankly embarrassing portrayal of an abusive relationship with his older boyfriend/pimp as an integral part of his story. and... it turns out the ""friendship"" i had with the old guy who was finding me clients at one point was a lot less of a "friendship" and way more of an exploitative, possessive pimping situ sold to me as a partnership. like, honestly--i can't even begin to compare these dudes, the fictional bf and this real-life mf i knew, because the parallels between them, and even me and Eric during that time, are so many. you'd think i could have taken a step back and been like, 'oh shit. this is actually really similar to some of the more toxic elements of the abusive relationship i've been writing for literal years now' but. y'know what they about hindsight

i play every single interactive fiction game i touch as Eric, first and foremost. every. one.

consequently, i (and everyone else once that second project starts) have the choice of games title Drag Star to thank for the epiphany that Eric obviously had to be a drag queen. it just fit. I could picture him in every scene with such vividness that i just knew it was right. like a missing puzzle piece. ..........and hilariously enough, this was about 2 years after i got really, REALLY into make-up and drag. so that was like... the opposite of what usually happens with those parallels lol

i've been playing dress-up games since there was only ONE website for it 😂 so now i'm very, very happy that i get to rediscover my love for those silly things with the perfect excuse: drag looks for my favorite precious baby OC, Eric 🥰

i think that's prob more than enough, thank you so much for indulging me, anons!

[devinescribe]

Knowing You Again

Chapter 6 of '100 Promises'

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Warnings: Swearing, bullying, I think that's it, let me know if I missed any

"Wow this place is amazing! So many games!" You awed, amazed by the amount of games and the lights. "Yeah, it's not anything like the one I went to on break, but since I can't take you there yet, I thought here would be good," he explained. "Thank you!" You exclaimed, hugging him and jumping up and down. He laughed, "Ok, ok. Calm down! What game do you want to play first?" You looked around, seeing all the different games, the people rushing from the machines and back. And you saw one that wasn't being used. You lead him over to it. "This one?" You asked. He nodded, and you two began on the game.

You walked into the grand lobby of the hotel, and sat on one of the waiting chairs. You watched in curiosity as people filed in their groups, cheering and laughing. Even if they'd lost a member, they were happy to be alive. A relief that it wasn't them. Maybe it was that everyone here had begun to accept their new reality. It made you smile in the slightest, that not all the people here were weak and useless. "Hey there new girl," someone said from besides you. "Hi Chishiya," you greeted without even turning to look besides you. "Hm? Attentive," he said. You didn't have to look to know he was smirking. "No, your voice is just very distinctive. It's soft, but also a very condescending undertone in it. Give people the illusion you know more than them," you stated, finally looking at him. "The hell did you study in college?" He asked with a laugh. "Major in forensics, minor in psychology. I'm pretty good at psychological mind fucking," you stated. He smiled, looking up. "Mind fucking? That's how I know you're friends with that idiot," he said. "Idiot? Niragi? No way. He studied game programming and engineering, and is 20 times smarter than anyone I've ever met," you said, surprised anyone could call him an idiot. How much did he change in the borderlands? Even then, his intelligence wouldn't have faded. So what did he do? "Hmm... maybe I'll change your opinion. You haven't met someone like me before," he said, looking at you. His eyes stared back into your own. It was like he was seeing into your soul, trying to really read into you. "I like a challenge. Impress me," you stated, a smirk playing on your lips. "Will do. Your friend is up on the roof for his patrol. I'll see you later at the pool. Kuina is quite fond of you. You two get along well," Chishiya said, walking off. You stood up, walking over to the grand stair case.

"I haven't slept in 4 days... gods help me," you groaned, running your hands up through your hair, it getting stuck from the knots. "Fuck me... SUGU! ARE YOU ALIVE?" you yelled. You heard a groan in response. He came out of his room, his hair sticking up every which way, his glasses were crooked on his face, and there were dark eyebags under his eyes. "I think... I think I'm alive..." he said. He was almost falling asleep standing up. "You need to take a nap," you suggested, standing up and walking over to him, yawning and rubbing your eyes. "No, I need to finish my project, you need a nap," he said, as you fixed his glasses. He could see that you were also running on no sleep. The dark eyebags under your eyes, your messed up tangled hair. It was different to say the least. You always looked nice, but college said no, please fuck up your sleep schedule to get this project done for me. Oh, and it a worth 75% of your grade! He hated school, but enjoyed what he was studying. Your projects took longer, and we're a bit gross at times, seeing as you had to take both forensics and psychology classes. "How about coffee instead then? I have a project to finish too..." you said, combing his hair out with your fingers, making it lay flat once more. "That sounds nice..." he muttered, the sensation of you playing with his hair almost making him fall asleep on the spot. "Yeah, I don't think you drinking that many energy drinks is healthy. Or not sleeping for four days. Let me get dressed, fix my hair, and we can head out, yeah?" You scolded at first, softening your tone.

"You look like shit," he insulted as you two walked to a coffee shop. "You're one to talk. When was the last time you washed your hair? Who are you, Snape?" You joked back, knowing his hatred for the character. 'He treated a kid like absolute shit because the kid's dad used to bully him in school. Oh, and his obsession with a girl who just saw him as a friend, but we're not going to talk about it.' He always said that when you asked him about why he hated Snape. It was funny to you because you had never met someone besides yourself that had that much genuine hatred towards a fictional character. "Ew, compare to anyone but him. Anyone," he said, genuinely grossed out by the fact you'd compared him to that character. "You really should take care of yourself more though. I need you to last me my whole life dude," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Mhm, if I remember correctly, promise 40 was if we were still 28 and we were single, we'd marry each other," he chuckled. You laughed. "Well, yeah. We keep our promises, you got that?" You said, punching his shoulder. "Ow, what was that for!" He whined, laughing. "I don't know. I don't want to go back to that apartment. I need to stay out of that, school is just... taking a toll on me. When we finish school and get jobs, I hope it's easier... Let's go on an adventure today," you said, leaning onto him. He thought for a bit. His project was almost done, and it was due in three days. He was running on no sleep, 5 energy drinks a day, and the occasional coffee you brought him.. Taking time off for you was worth it. He could finish the project tomorrow. You were worth that and more to him. "Sure what kind of adventure?"

"A little birdie told me you'd be up here," you said once you had opened the door to the roof. He turned around, facing you. "Really? Let me guess, Chishiya?" He stated. . He had his gun slung over his shoulder, and looked around boredly. You nodded. "How was your game?" You asked, going over, and sitting on the edge of the roof. He went over, sitting by you. "It went great. I'm alive, aren't I?" He stated sarcastically. You sighed, seeing as you were right. You had sensed it last night, but now it was more obvious. The games had changed him. For better or worse, you didn't know yet. "Mmm... and are the games any way to treat me differently? Because I'll hit you right now if you say yes," you threatened, glaring at him. He noticed your anger, but he guessed it could also be sadness. He'd left you alone for... how long had you said? 6 months? He didn't remember being gone for that long. Maybe time ran differently in the Borderlands than it did in the real world?

"No, it's not. Just know that I'm not going to act the same around you. I have a reputation here," he said, staring out. A light breeze brushed across the roof. A reputation? Well, you had noticed not many people coming up to talk to you all day. You heard whispers of 'that's the girl Niragi brought in. We should stay away from her.' So you assumed people feared Niragi. But you were curious. You know what they say, Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. "Tell me about it then. Tell me everything that's happened. All the good, all the bad, I want to know. So spill," you said. He sighed. He didn't want to tell you. A part of him was confused about it. He wasn't proud of the things he did, but on the other hand, he wasn't ashamed of them. The only thing stopping him was the fact that you were the only person who's opinion he cared about. The only person he had his whole life who cared about him the way he cared about them. You were the only reason he wasn't completely alone. "You want to know? Why?" He asked, putting up a defensive front. You shook your head, noticing it almost immediately. He had built walls in the games, you could tell. But that wasn't going to stop you. "Because you're my best friend,and I thought you had died. Because I want to know what you've been doing here? How'd you get such a high rank? When did you learn how to shoot? What's your specialty of the card games? Is it fun? Have you killed anyone?" You asked, going off on a small tangent. "Ok... let's do this. I've been playing the games, I got a high rank by playing the games, learned how to shoot here in the borderlands, surprisingly enough it's almost like shooting in a video game, my specialty are diamond games, yes it's extreme fun, and yes I have," he answered. You nodded, leaning your head on his shoulder. You had a suspicion there was worse he'd done, but you didn't want to know. He could keep it to himself until he felt comfortable to tell you. It felt like before, in a way... When you two would sit on the roof of some apartment complex down the street and watch the stars. Where your worries would go away, and you didn't have to worry about being the perfect daughter or the bullies. You were just (Y/N) and Niragi, the two kids. Because that's what you had been. Kids. When everything happened, you were kids. No kids should have been treated like how you two had been treated.

''I can't believe they broke your glasses," you muttered under your breath, brushing his hair out of his face. His bullies had gotten him while you were cleaning the classroom after class. He waited outside, but they decided to rough him up. The had beaten him up pretty badly. You had cleaned up the cuts and blood as much as you could, but it didn't change the fact his glasses were broken."It's fine..." he said, not wanting to look you in the eyes. "It's not fine, Sugu. You need your glasses, and glasses are expensive. Plus your dad..." you trailed off, seeing his hands beginning to shake. "Don't remind me..." he whispered. You hugged him, and whispered back, "You'll be ok. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, (N/N)."

"But I have to. Promise 1, we promise to keep each other safe, remember?"

He sighed, and nodded. You were scared for him. You knew somehow, you'd get roped into it. You looked up at him, seeing him pick at the cement on the roof. "Eventually... we're going to have to go back. We can't stay here the whole night," he said. You frowned. "I don't want to go back. We should run away. Just the two off us."

"(L/N)?" Someone called out from behind you two. You turned to face the person. It was Ann. "Hatter would like to see you... Alone."

[songofclarity]

Hi! About WRH, I've seen lots of instances where people wimpify their favourite character, by using WRH to abuse them in the most gross ways. Maybe you've seen that too? Do you think there's a particular reason for why it's so prevalent (aside from personal taste(??? ...Even reading descriptions makes me sick. Its unavoidable with WRH. ...I find it incredibly tiresome when I'm trying to find normal WRH content yet have to wade through that shit. WRH and the other characters deserve better.

Oh, yes, I've definitely seen that, Anon.

That is the fate of all villains and antagonists in most fandoms. It's prevalent because of people's personal taste, as you said, for the power dynamic, victim/villain porn, the schadenfreude, the porn, just wanting to see their favorites break. Reading about characters in pain can be a healthy way to experience intense emotions in a safe environment. Writing fiction is a way to express one thing or another and I'm not here to judge the rhyme or reason for what gets put out there.

But I will judge how people characterize characters lol Considering I LOVE hurt/comfort, I can't say even I entirely understand the appeal of wimpifying favorite characters, either?? Even when they suffer, shouldn't they still be themselves in some fundamental way? Hurt/comfort is such a great way to explore characters at their rawest point, whether they break or bend, how they handle suffering and pain, what they do to comfort themselves, and how they come back from it.

That is a treatment and exploration given predominantly to the protagonists, however. Wen RuoHan, an antagonist we rarely see, garners no sympathy or empathy from most readers as his story sections are few and far between. We're told he runs the Evil Sect(TM) and that's all most people care about. Writers decide he is not a character in his own right, ignore what is on the page, and thus he becomes free real estate for the some trashy, vicious personality that hypersexualizes him to perversion and shows him instigating and passionately delighting in the sight of suffering and blood.

Which, for the liking the suffering and blood part, is what the cultivation world says about him in canon but we also have to remember that the cultivation world says Nie HuaiSang is a good for nothing, Wei WuXian is nothing but evil, and Jin GuangYao is a good and upright person. We come to the end of the novel to realize that none of these are true.

This isn't to say that Wen RuoHan is secretly a good person, but why is he suddenly the exception to the theme that rumors shouldn’t be believed? Especially when what we see of him does NOT match up with what is said about him? Given the opportunity to torture his son’s murderer, which you might even argue he is justified to want, he turns it down.

Interestingly enough, and perhaps Anon has noticed it too, I see Meng Yao's personality and behavior in the Sun Palace being projected onto Wen RuoHan in a lot of fic. Meng Yao's abuses and verbal harassment toward Nie MingJue are put into Wen RuoHan's mouth and then exemplified. So I think that’s another reason why Wen RuoHan is so prevalently portrayed as “gross”: Meng Yao blamed all his actions on Wen RuoHan and readers believed him, despite Meng Yao having a good reason to lie and Wen RuoHan CLEARLY saying “do as YOU please,” not as Wen RuoHan pleases.

Honestly, what Wen RuoHan says and how he behaves gives us an interesting character!

Wen RuoHan smacked Nie dad’s saber and yet spoke politely that it was indeed a fine saber. (The saber breaks. Nie dad dies.)

Wen RuoHan watched his Sect lose the archery competition and all he said was thank you all for coming, I'm going to go, but please continue to enjoy yourselves. (Cloud Recesses burns. The Indoctrination camp requires everyone to come back to once again enjoy themselves as they learn Wen Sect rules and teaching.)

Wen RuoHan spoke of his observations of the other sect leaders, identified their weaknesses (but not their strengths), and said that he needn’t raise a hand against the Sunshot Campaign, that it will collapse on its own. (It doesn’t. Wen Xu and Wen Chao are killed within days of each other. The Sunshot Campaign is in a stalemate for years.)

Wen RuoHan asked if Nie MingJue was the one who killed Wen Xu, stated he had no interest in further abusing someone who was half dead, and told Meng Yao to do as he pleased. (Wen RuoHan has his guard completely down, he doesn’t feel threatened at all, and he is murdered.)

Wen RuoHan is never shown or described as torturing anyone, we never see him murdering anyone (although RIP the Wen Cultivator killed when Nie MingJue launched him as an attack weapon), and he's not involved in any sexual misconduct. He never calls for anyone's death and he never shows a desire to cause harm.

If nothing else, Wen RuoHan is POLITE to a FAULT. Like we all see how polite Jin GuangYao tries to be but in the end he’s shedding that politeness like a second skin. Now imagine that politeness coming from a man who can make your head explode like a watermelon. Wen RuoHan is powerful and he’s terrifying but he is a BEAUTIFUL representation of "speak softly and carry a big stick" and I love that about him. It also perfectly explains why Wen Chao was like That.

So yeah, the "gross" stuff fandom writes him doing, the "gross" stuff fandom writes him saying -- I'm sorry, but who is that??? It’s fine if people don’t like him or flat out hate him, but MDZS gives us so many antagonists to chose from! It doesn’t need to be one-sized-antagonist-fits-all-evils! Fics will use Wen RuoHan’s name when Jin GuangShan and Jin GuangYao are right there holding a monopoly on sexual violence, torture, and abuse in canon. But that is another reason Wen RuoHan is portrayed as gross and terrible in fandom: many people generally like the Jin better than the Wens, and, in order to make Jin GuangYao look less rotten, Wen RuoHan is made into the penultimate evil with no redeeming qualities.

Although with all that said, in case Anon is unaware, I am the author of Heliocentric over on AO3, which began life as just a hurt/comfort Whumptober fic with a focus on Wen RuoHan and Nie MingJue. So I confess I am a participant when it comes to delving into Wen RuoHan doing terrible things in order to indulge in some good old hurt/comfort and character study. But after having written nearly 100k words I'm now a Wen RuoHan stan so I guess all that studying worked really well.

So I’m with you on trying to find some normal Wen RuoHan content these days. There are definitely some gems out there though! Fanfic and fanart which are both interesting and compelling! But long story short, we must be the change we want to see in the world! We must make the Wen RuoHan content we want to read/see!

Although it would be nice if people stopped treated him like a trash bin in the meantime.

[emachinescat]

The Neglected Neckerchief

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump ​ day 21 - torture

Summary: A group of bandits torture Merlin in front of Arthur for their own entertainment, using Merlin’s beloved neckerchief against him in the cruelest of manners.  Now, Arthur must struggle to come to terms with a traumatized Merlin, whose neckerchief has been replaced by a ring of bruises.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur

Words: 4,730

TW: strangulation, panic attacks

Note: Based on my drabble series from “Moments” by the same name. Sorry for no cover/header picture today. I'm sick and doing the bare minimum. I will add one later when I feel up to making one!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Arthur had never understood his servant's attachment to that ratty triangle of fabric he wore around his neck. When he had first met Merlin, in fact, Arthur had downright hated it. He'd pestered his servant about it on many occasions, questioning the practicality, the fashion, the function of the neckerchief. Of course, Merlin never failed to follow up with a clever retort, but he never really answered the question, and eventually, Arthur got bored of teasing Merlin for his clothes and moved on to something else.

As the years passed, however, Arthur's derision for the odd neckwear faded, and before long, he found himself associating the neckerchief with Merlin himself. It got to the point where seeing Merlin without the accessory felt strange, and before he knew it, the prince realized that he actually liked that stupid scarf – though he would die before he admitted it to Merlin.

Now that he was older, perhaps a bit wiser than he had been as a young prince, King Arthur had a feeling that it wasn't so much the neckerchief that he'd grown to like, but the person who wore it. And since Merlin and his neckerchief were one and the same, it stood to reason that the king would have grown fond of it as well. Not that he would ever admit his affection for his servant out loud, either, of course. Not in so many words – or any words, really. That just wasn't how his relationship with Merlin worked.

Indeed, somewhere along the way, Merlin's neckerchief had become as much of a staple in Arthur's life as the servant himself. And yet, in the span of one bandit attack during a morning hunt, that all changed.

It had started off, as these things often do, as a normal patrol. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm, the sort of day where you would never expect anything horrible to happen. And yet –

It had been a week since the hunt turned to hell, and Arthur could still recall it so vividly that he might as well have been experiencing it all over again. Those five minutes of torture had branded themselves so deeply into his mind's eye that every time he fell asleep, he would go back – back to the forest, to the bandits and their laughter and their hands holding him back, holding him down. Back to the sounds. Oh gods, the sounds. Gagging, choking, panicked breaths, a mouth gaping open like a fish's, searching desperately for air that wouldn't come. Blue lips, still chest, and laughter. And, of course, in the center of it all, Merlin's beloved neckerchief.

***

One Week Ago

"Looks like we got a fine catch today, gentlemen!" The short, ugly brute of a bandit grinned at Arthur, half of his teeth rotten and the other half missing all together. "Is this a knight of Camelot we've stumbled upon?"

Arthur was relieved that they hadn't recognized him to be the king, at least. He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible on his outings, having Merlin hold on to the royal seal if they were going anywhere outside of the citadel – bandits generally ignored servants and focused on the more important looking people, after all. It was a clever trick, provided Merlin didn't lose the seal. So far, he'd kept up with it well enough on their journeys, and this time, it seemed to be paying off, as these bandits thought they were playing with just another knight and his servant.

But that didn't change the fact that Arthur and Merlin had been taken off guard, ambushed, and tied hand and foot by a band of ten morally bereft, muscle-heavy monsters who wouldn't know hygiene if it crashed into their thick skulls. Arthur had been shoved to his knees and held there by four men, who still struggled to keep him still. Two other men had done the same to his servant, but other than the usual bumps and bruises from fighting a losing battle, neither Arthur nor Merlin were hurt.

Arthur may not have been injured, but he was angry, mostly with himself. He'd known it was a bad idea to go on a hunt without any of the knights or guards to accompany him. He'd let Merlin come along because he knew that the obsessively loyal servant would have followed him anyway, and he'd much rather have Merlin by his side so he could keep an eye on him instead of being forced to listen to him thrashing around in the undergrowth making a racket while trying to be stealthy. As Athur had been reminded by his council many times, he was king now, and he had a responsibility to think not only of the safety and well-being of his people, but of himself as well. That meant no more running around in the forest on hunts or patrols without a guard. That meant telling the council where he was going to be at all times so that they would know to send someone after him if he didn't get back in time.

But Arthur had had enough. It had been a month since his father's death, and he was stifled in the castle. Even when he wasn't in Camelot, people still surrounded him on patrols and hunts, and even when those people were some of his closest friends – the knights – he often felt like he was being smothered, and his skin crawled at the thought of having to sit through one more council meeting or supervised hunt. He'd needed to get away. He'd told Guievere where he was going, of course. And then he'd grabbed his servant, all but dragging him out of the castle at the break of day, and they'd passed a pleasant enough morning, with Merlin scaring away half the prey. But as with most good things in King Arthur's life, this too had to end. The ambush had been unexpected and swift, and Guinevere wasn't expecting him back until evening – they were on their own.

As casually as he could, Arthur implored the bandits, "You have me, a knight of Camelot. My servant is of no use to you. Let him go."

The short, stocky bandit who seemed to be in charge considered this for a brief moment before crossing his tree-branch arms across his chest. "So he can run back to your coward king and bring a rescue party? Not likely."

"We're miles away from Camelot," Arthur pressed. "You could be long gone with me before he brings anyone back."

From the corner of his eye, Arthur watched Merlin frantically shake his head. Arthur ignored him, and prayed that the idiot would stay silent. All it would take would be Merlin saying "Arthur" one time, and the bandits would realize their mistake – and quickly seek to rectify it. Thankfully, Merlin seemed to be aware of the situation, and for once, blessedly, kept his mouth shut.

The leader ambled forward, brow creased as if thinking were incredibly painful for him. "You seem awfully keen to protect that servant of yours. Most knights don't give a damn about the help if their own lives are in danger. What's so special about that one?"

Arthur maintained eye contact with the brute before him. "I care about all those I have sworn to protect as a knight."

"Oh, that's rich!" A chorus of laughter from the surrounding bandits grated at Arthur's nerves. "Nah," the man continued, casting a glance over his shoulder at the skinny servant who glared defiantly back. "With those pretty blue eyes, I reckon he's more than just a servant."

"Yeah," called one of the bandits forcing Merlin to kneel. "The knight's consort I'd wager."

The leader swivelled back to face Arthur. "Is that it, Sir Knight? Is he your consort?"

Arthur didn't answer.

"Oh, now you clam up." The bandit leader seemed genuinely disappointed that he didn't get an answer. He peered at Arthur through slitted, suspicious eyes for a few charged seconds. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

"Well, lads, why don't we have a bit of fun before we head out?"

Arthur glanced at Merlin, and saw the servant looking back at him with wide, uncertain eyes. To Arthur's surprise, Merlin didn't look scared. In fact, Arthur thought that his servant appeared to be more conflicted than anything, like he was trying to make a difficult decision. Baffling as that was, it was hardly the most important thing on Arthur's mind at the moment.

The leader signaled to the men holding Merlin, and then everything went to hell.

One of the men lashed out with frightening speed for someone of his size, landing a devastating blow in the center of Merlin's back at the very second the servant was released. Arthur watched the kick connect, heard the pained cry, felt the thump as Merlin sprawled face-first onto the forest floor, hands tied behind his back, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Arthur had received similar kicks before, and he knew all too well the terror-inducing breathlessness that accompanied such injuries. He'd rarely wanted to kill someone as much as he wanted to kill the bandit who had inflicted such pain and panic on his servant.

But they weren't done yet. It got far, far worse.

The leader of the bandits stepped forward then, and squatted at the feebly stirring Merlin's side, still facing the king. Every muscle in Arthur's body tensed; his heart pounded deafeningly in his ears. Something very bad was going to happen, he could feel it in every fiber of his being. He'd seen enough violence and war and bloodshed, enough monsters, to know that this was far from over.

The bandit leader reached over and fingered the fabric of Merlin's neckerchief – he'd worn the blue one today. Arthur watched the idea form in the man's head even as Merlin began to recover a bit of his breath and attempted to squirm away from the bandit's touch. "Interesting fashion choice," the leader commented, sarcasm slathered generously on each word. "Makes my job easier though."

He clenched his meaty fist around the back of Merlin's scarf, and, keeping his eyes trained on the knight before him, slowly pulled up.

To Arthur, the world had slipped into slow motion. It was like the minutes just before a storm, when nature held its breath, birds forgot how to sing, and all of creation readied itself for the violence to come. He watched, horror coursing through him, as the first waves of realization and then panic dawned on his servant's dazed face. Blue eyes bulged wide, mouth opened in a soundless scream, and still, the bandit pulled.

The bandit took his time. He was in no rush. Arthur could see from the wild, glassy glint in his beady green eyes that he was relishing the control he had over the situation, over the man he was strangling. He never looked away from Arthur, not even when the agonized choking, coughing, gasping, hacking sounds began in earnest. Arthur, for his part, tried to ignore the man, and, as much as it hurt him, tore at his soul and twisted his stomach, the king kept his eyes on Merlin, trying to offer him comfort, reassurance, anything. Until Merlin's eyes started to dim, and his eyelids drooped as if a heavy weight had been tied to them, and the frantic heaves of his chest grew weak, and he knew Merlin was dying.

Despite his resolve to remain strong and unaffected, and despite his hopes that the bandit leader would grow tired of his cruel game if he thought Arthur was not emotionally invested, Arthur lost control. It had become clear to him that the man torturing Merlin did not care if he elicited a reaction from his other prisoner. He was tormenting – killing – Merlin because it was fun for him; the pleasure had written itself into his bright eyes and twisted smile. And Merlin was going to die.

Arthur lunged forward, a feral yell bursting from the deepest part of himself, and even with his hands bound behind his back and his ankles tied together, he nearly managed to shake off all of the four men holding him – and then three more added to their number, and Arthur found himself face-down just feet from Merlin, who was all but unconscious, barely fighting to breathe, and the pressure of the bandits on top of him was crushing. Arthur barely felt it beneath the weight of his failure.

The bandit leader now loomed over both master and servant, and to Arthur's surprise, he eased up pressure, releasing his grip slightly on Merlin's neckerchief and allowing the servant to drag in desperate, halted breaths, his eyes now bulging. Merlin coughed, deep, raw sounds grinding out from a shredded throat. Arthur could see a terrible, angry red line circling Merlin's neck, just beneath the neckerchief.

"Merlin – are you all right?" Arthur kept his voice low, hushed.

Tears were streaming down Merlin's cheeks, whether from fear or lack of oxygen or pain, Arthur didn't know. He tried to speak, and his voice hurt to hear; he sounded like his vocal chords had been slashed. "Aarrrrr…"

"Shhh," Arthur soothed, partially out of concern for Merlin's health, partially out of fear that Merlin would reveal Arthur's true identity. "It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe, okay? I'll find a way out of this." And Merlin looked at Arthur with such unmitigated trust in his gaze that Arthur felt like running himself through with his sword, because he had no plan. He had no hope. Surely, Merlin could see that, even in his state. Arthur had seven bandits piled on top of him, holding him motionless. The guilt crashed into Arthur with all the force of a battering ram into a fortress door. This was all his fault.

"S'not … your … fault," Merlin heaved out with great difficulty, and Arthur's blood ran cold. He was certain he hadn't said that out loud. How had Merlin known? It hit him – Merlin had known that Arthur was blaming himself because he knew Arthur.

The moment shattered as the bandit leader butted in, voice loud and abrasive, sending chills of fury across Arthur's flesh like an attacking army. "Now that you've got your breath back, Merlin, let's start from the top."

Arthur watched Merlin's eyes go wide with fear, and Arthur must have been giddy with it himself, because he could have sworn he saw a tiny bit of gold swirling in their depths right before the neckerchief was tightened and the imagined flame died out, and only terror remained.

The second time was just as slow and measured as the first. The bandit applied pressure in the tiniest increments, and this time, Arthur got a front-row view of the light leaving his friend's eyes. The noises were even worse up close, the coughs and gasps taking on the helm of death rattles. Merlin thrashed at first, trying to escape, to breathe, to do anything, and his lips lost color and turned blue, and now he was barely moving, barely breathing, and this time, the bandit leader had no intention of stopping.

Merlin's head and shoulders were now being held aloft by only the fabric around his neck, and his struggles ceased completely, his chest stilled.

Arthur squirmed desperately beneath the hold of the seven bandits, but even the adrenaline screaming through his body was not enough to throw them off. He could fear hot tears on his cheeks, knowing that if Merlin was not dead now, he would be soon. Arthur had been tortured before – it wasn't a common occurrence, but it had happened. And yet, nothing had prepared him for the kind of torture he had endured – was still enduring – in watching his closest friend die slowly and painfully, terrified, right in front of him. Arthur wanted to rip the men who were doing this limb from limb. He wanted to slowly squeeze the life out of the one strangling Merlin.

He wanted them to be strangling him instead.

All seemed lost – and would have been, if a Camelot patrol hadn't heard the commotion from a distance and come to investigate. There were six men, and they had the element of surprise. One moment, all was anguish and torture and the gut-clenching quiet that came at the end of life. The next, a short, fierce battle raged all around him. As soon as the bandits loosened their grip on him and Gwaine cut him free, Arthur joined the fight, catching the sword tossed at him by Elyan.

He ran through the man who had tortured his servant personally, with the same level of twisted glee and intimacy with which the man had strangled Merlin. It was so much more than he deserved.

Once the bandits had all been slain and lay scattered on the forest floor, Arthur raced to Merlin's side, slamming to his knees beside the servant. His hand shook so badly as he felt for the beat of Merlin's heart that Elyan had to take over, and his dark eyes were grave as he looked back at Arthur and shook his head.

"No," Arthur said simply, refusing to believe that Merlin was truly gone, that he had watched his friend die terribly before his eyes. "No, check again."

"No time for that," Gwaine snapped, falling to his knees on the opposite side of the servant and bending over the prone body. The blue of Merlin's lips was almost as vibrant as the color of the neckerchief that had so cruelly been turned against him.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of anxiety, disbelief, and finally relief, as Gwaine breathed for him, Arthur pounded on his chest, and Percival carried him home.

***

Merlin hadn't worn his neckerchief since that torturous day. He was sullen and nervous, jumping at small noises and avoiding Arthur, and refusing to wear anything to cover up those ghastly bruises.

He hadn't been able to talk for nearly a week after he'd woken up; Gaius said he was lucky that his windpipe wasn't crushed. But even after, Merlin barely spoke.

And gods, those bruises.

They encircled Merlin's pale neck like a grotesque mockery of the very scarf that had caused it. They had reached the stage where the very edges had started to yellow, but the inner ring was black, mottled with red and blue. Just looking at it hurt, and it was a constant reminder of the torture Merlin had gone through … and that Arthur had gone through, watching him. Arthur could not fathom that Merlin would prefer to walk around with those bruises in plain sight – surely they had to trigger bad memories as much as, if not more than, the neckerchief?

It was stupid, but Arthur couldn't stop himself thinking that when Merlin wore his neckerchief again, it would mean things were back to normal. That he was okay.

And so Arthur had a neckerchief made out of the finest material Guinevere could procure in the market. It was silk, so soft to the touch that Arthur wouldn't have minded falling asleep in it. It was a deep, Camelot red, and so light it was almost weightless.

When he presented it to Merlin, yesterday morning, the servant's eyes had twitched down to it, and where Arthur had thought he'd see gratitude, maybe even a hint of a smile, he saw only trepidation. Merlin had rasped a pained, "Thanks," then grabbed the scarf by one corner like it was a serpent poised to strike and shoved it into his pocket, out of sight. He hadn't worn it since.

"I don't understand," Arthur said to his wife over dinner, distress clear in his voice. "I replaced it."

"He's just not ready," Gwen soothed, though her brow was knit in worry.

"It's of a much finer material than his old one," Arthur insisted, as if he were trying to convince Gwen that Merlin should wear it.

"You have to be patient with him, Arthur. What happened to him was… traumatic. He has to come to terms with it in his own time."

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. "I just can't stand looking at his bruises."

Gwen squeezed his hand, her eyes sad and wise and more beautiful than anything that Arthur had seen. "I know it hurts," she said, "and I mean no disrespect, but… Arthur, this isn't about you. It's not about your discomfort, it's not about the pain you went through seeing Merlin be hurt like that."

Arthur opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, not even knowing if he was going to argue or agree with her.

Gwen held up a hand. "I'm not saying that what you went through was unimportant. I can't even imagine watching…" She trailed off, shuddered. "But you can't expect Merlin to wear something that causes him so much pain and fear, just because it makes you uncomfortable."

Arthur knew she was right, and told her so. He would have to find a way to look past the bruises, for now.

Merlin was avoiding Arthur – there were no two ways about it. He got to work early, woke Arthur, and then ran off to do the rest of his chores. Finally, at the end of week two, Arthur cornered him in the armory.

"Merlin." Arthur's face was serious, his eyes uncharacteristically concerned.

"Sorry, Sire, I have work to do," Merlin said stiffly. His voice still sounded as if it were being painfully squeezed from him. He tried to leave, but Arthur caught his arm, pretended he didn't see Merlin flinch.

"For the love of… if I give you the day off, will you stay and talk to me?"

Merlin's eyes were wide and his scowl looked more pathetic than annoyed. "I suppose I have little choice in the matter."

Arthur's heart constricted. "Merlin, I—"

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't been wearing the neckerchief," Merlin blurted, avoiding Arthur's eyes. "I just… I know you we retrying to help, but… Hold on, I'll go get it right now," he flustered. His cheeks were red and his eyes bright.

"Merlin, stop."

Merlin stopped.

"I realize I haven't been fair to you," the king said slowly, carefully. "I haven't been patient. What happened was… wrong. Do you need to talk to me about it?"

The dam broke.

Arthur had never seen Merlin cry like this before. He'd seen tears in his friend's eyes on various occasions, but never had he witnessed the choking, uncontrollable, full-bodied sobs that were now wrenched from the depths of Merlin's soul. At first, Arthur stood, uncertain, terrified that he was going to say or do the wrong thing, but then he thought of Merlin, and tried to imagine what he would do for him if the king were in this situation. A strange calm descended over him, and he gently took Merlin by the arm and guided him to the nearest chair – Arthur's chair, the most comfortable one in the room, the one he never let anyone else sit in, not even Guinevere (she had her own, anyway).

He eased Merlin down, knelt beside him, and wrapped one arm around his servant's shoulders, and just held him while he released all of the pain and frustration and fear and trauma he'd been skirting around for weeks. Arthur felt the hot sting of a tear mark a course down his own face, and he didn't brush it away. He felt, like Merlin was feeling – felt the pain of the torture inflicted on them both, felt the violent sobs shaking Merlin's wiry frame, and finally, felt the tremors ease and stop all together, but he didn't withdraw his arm. He might have even squeezed a little bit tighter, as if assuring himself that his friend was still there, still breathing, despite how hard those bandits had tried to kill him.

Finally, Merlin shifted awkwardly, and Arthur became acutely aware of the fact that his arm was still around the servant's shoulders, and he withdrew with a start, backing away with haste.

Merlin turned to look at him, and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, the bruises on his neck still visible and angry, and tear tracks streaked down his face. Arthur watched him apprehensively, afraid that Merlin was going to say something emotional that Arthur wouldn't know how to respond to, or worse, openly acknowledge the unusual level of tenderness that had permeated that moment. Instead, Merlin quirked a watery half-smile and simply said, "Thank you."

Relieved, Arthur smiled back. "You're welcome. Feeling better, are we?"

Merlin gave a small, almost timid, nod. "A little bit, actually. I think."

Desperate for some return to normalcy, chest warm with the hope that Merlin really would be okay, someday, Arthur folded his arms across his chest. "Then get your scrawny arse out of my chair."

Merlin actually laughed then, and settled in deeper to the comfortable seat. "Sorry, sire," he said. "I think my scrawny arse is stuck here until further notice."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Merlin blushed. "I… I don't think I can stand right now," he admitted, and Arthur noted with concern that Merlin's knees were indeed trembling. Merlin was trembling.

Arthur rolled his eyes like it was some great inconvenience. "Fine," he said. "Laze about like the useless servant you are. I'll fetch Gaius."

Merlin surged forward at this, almost fell flat on his face. "I don't need –" He broke off as Arthur shoved him back in the seat. "Gaius."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You were saying?"

Merlin had never looked so much like a sullen, scolded child.

***

When Arthur returned, Gaius not far behind him, he was shocked to find that Merlin was still where the king had left him. Even more surprising was the fact that Merlin held the silk neckerchief that Arthur had gifted him, almost reverently, gazing down at the fabric with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Merlin, where did you get that?" Arthur asked.

"My pocket."

"You've been carrying that around all week?"

Merlin didn't answer, but he didn't need to – it was obvious that he had been.

Arthur heard Gaius shuffle through the door behind him, but did not turn. He kept his eyes on Merlin, who continued to contemplate the scarf like he had never seen anything like it before. "Merlin, you don't have to wear that," Arthur said in a rush. "I just thought–"

"I know," Merlin interrupted, and that's when Arthur knew his servant was on the mend, because a Merlin who lacked all decorum and propriety was far more normal than one who was actually good at being a proper servant. "But, it's nice. And I was thinking, I've never owned anything so fine." He paused. "But I think I'll leave it at home when we go on hunts and patrols from now on." He gazed up at Arthur imploringly.

The king felt Merlin's eyes on his front and Gaius's on his back. He looked Merlin straight in the eyes and said, "You don't have to wear anything you don't want to, Merlin. If you never wear a ridiculous triangle scarf again, that's completely fine. Don't do it because you feel like you have to. You won't hurt my feelings."

Merlin grinned – a full, mischievous smile that Arthur hadn't seen in far too long. "When have I ever given you the impression that I care about protecting your feelings, Sire?"

Arthur tried to look stern, but ended up laughing out loud. "Fair point," he conceded.

He and Gaius watched with bated breath as Merlin tied the new neckerchief very loosely around his neck. A moment of tense silence, then –

"Does this make me look like a prat?"

"Merlin!"

Arthur knew that the ordeal wasn't over just because Merlin had put on the neckerchief. There would still be nightmares and anxiety and days where Merlin couldn't stand to have anything touch his neck. But this was progress. This was hope.

For this one moment, this was Arthur and Merlin, as they had always been, and all was well with the world.

For now, that was more than enough.

[oddeyecadia]

aren't humans supposed to be scared of death?

lucifer/main character

also posted on ao3

__

His glare alone could kill a thousand souls.

It wasn't a fair battle for (M/C) only had one, the same soul that was almost some demons' dinner earlier.

Most of the time when his eyes would fall on her, her heart would skip a beat and she'd forget how to breathe. Right then, she was still at lost for breath, but only because it seemed like he wanted to rip her lungs into pieces. A contrast to how gentle he was holding her in his arms moments ago.

It was times like these that (M/C) wished she had even half of Beel's athleticism. Adrenaline wasn't enough to increase her speed, but at least it helped with distracting her from her aching feet. There were two– no, three demons chasing her. If it was only one, she would've decided to fight, but their number didn't give her a choice but to run for her life.

She turned to an alleyway hoping to find somewhere to hide and found nothing but a dead end.

"You done wasting our time yet?" A panting voice came up behind her.

Trying to catch her breath, (M/C) quickly turned to the owner of the voice. The same demons who she turned down– one she might've given a black eye –were blocking her way. There were five of them now, five demons with hungry eyes starting at her. Where the hell did the other two come from?

She backed up and widened her stance. Running away and hiding from them were crossed out, there was no way she could get out of this situation without at least trying to defend herself. With a sprained feet and a trembling body, she for sure wouldn't win, but what choice did she have?

One of them spoke. "If only you just accepted our offer. You really had the guts to reject us, you, a human!" There was a hint of disgust in his last words.

She was about to say how she would rather lose her soul than accompany them to The Fall when the same demon aggressively pulled her by the wrist, making her squeak. His grip was so tight that it stung her skin, but she couldn't careless. All she wanted right then was to give the demon multiple kicks in the balls.

The others cheered him on as his face moved closer to hers. Gritting her teeth, she tried to pull away but his grip only tightened. She could feel his breath on her neck when he said, "Such a pure soul too. Free dinner's about to be good."

Her stomach flipped in the most unpleasant way as she shut her eyes, expecting to meet pain. Memories of soft crimson eyes flashed through her mind and she found herself internally calling for its owner.

It was only then that the fear started to sink in.

As if her prayers had reached the celestial realm, in a matter of seconds, the tight grip on her wrist disappeared and her feet was off the ground. Harsh wind blew through the alleyway and the scent of musk she loved so much hit her nose. She didn't need to open her eyes to know who was holding her but when she did, the same crimson eyes met hers and suddenly, all the tension in her body faded away.

She had always felt safest in Lucifer's arms.

(M/C) could almost taste the bitter atmosphere filling his office as Lucifer stood in front of her with his arms crossed. Daring to look him in the eye once, she regretted that decision immediately when a chill ran down her spine. She held onto her own arm for comfort.

Whenever his brothers would misbehave, he'd scold them for an eternity as one of the many punishments. He haven't said a word ever since he fought the group of demons who tried to murder her tonight, though. She'd rather have the repetitive reminders and sarcastic remarks than his silence that was more terrifying than the Devil King himself. She haven't even met said king.

After moments of hesitation, she finally found her voice. "Lucifer, I'm–"

"Mind telling me what you were doing alone in the streets of Devildom in the middle of the night?"

(M/C) gulped at his sharp tone. "I just– I needed to buy supplies for my school project due tomorrow, so I went out to get some."

"And you chose to go alone?"

"Well, everyone's already asleep."

"You of all people would know that I would still be in my office even at this hour. I would have been willing to accompany you if you asked." It was obvious that he was trying his best to keep his composure, but the way his voice was getting louder and more aggressive was ruining his facade.

She took a deep breath, praying to his father that her next words wouldn't fuel up the fire too much. "I doubt that you would even leave your desk if I ask you. Besides, the store wasn't that far and I didn't wanna bother any of you."

"That is not an excuse!" She didn't know it was possible but the furrow on his brows got even deeper. "It is irresponsible to do school projects the night before the deadline, first and foremost."

He lost her at the word irresponsible. (M/C) was pretty sure she had received this very same talk for over a million times, she didn't need to hear it again.

The way he spoke with such authority reminded her that she was talking to Lucifer, the Vice President of the student council and Diavolo's right hand man, not the Lucifer who would wake her up early in the morning so they could have the table on their own during breakfast or the Lucifer who put his coat on her when she accidentally slept on the couch.

This was the Lucifer his brothers would daydream of punching on a daily, but still the Lucifer she'd risk everything for.

"What's wrong? Having trouble falling asleep?"

(M/C) only blinked at the demon. She should've known she would run into Lucifer when she decided to roam around the halls of the House of Lamentation when everyone was asleep. It was rare for him to leave his desk at this hour, though. Perhaps luck just wasn't by her side.

"Uhm, yeah kind of." She answered honestly.

"May I ask why?"

She could only bite her lip. Was it a good idea to say she was just missing her room in the human world? Or that she was craving for her parent/s' hug? Would he even understand what homesickness was? It didn't matter, she wasn't scared of opening up to him but knowing Lucifer, he'd probably report this to Lord Diavolo and knowing Diavolo, who knew what ridiculous human event would he attempt to pull off if he found out. Although, it would be fun to watch the crown prince try, it would only remind her more that she wasn't in the human world with her family.

She gave Lucifer a hopefully convincing laugh. "Oh, it's pretty stupid. Levi and I watched a horror movie earlier. It's kind of hard to sleep when the creepy stuff keeps replaying in my head."

"Hmm. I never thought you'd be the type to be scared of fictional monsters, (M/C)."

He was right. (M/C) was in literal hell for Devil King's sake. No monster or ghost could ever scare her anymore.

"I guess you just don't know me as well as you thought." She said, keeping the act.

It took him too long to speak again that she was afraid her lying abilities were getting rusty. "Well then, I have a suggestion." A grin formed on his lips. "How about we share the bed?"

Her breathing stopped as the room grew several degrees higher than usual. Share the bed? Share the bed?

It seemed like her head didn't have control of her mouth for she just said, "Sure. Why not?"

Later as (M/C) felt the other side of Lucifer's gigantic bed dip, she started to realize why Why not? was such a stupid thing to ask.

It was like she was on her first day at RAD again, growing an interest in the most powerful demon in Devildom. She couldn't help it, he was undeniably attractive and the way he so confidently presented himself was gravitating. Lucifer was, for lack of a better word, hot.

But that was only what he was to her, an eye candy that was way out of her league. He was too much of a stuck up for her anyway, so she decided not to let her feelings grow into anything more.

She thought she had managed to forget about her embarrassing crush, but the way her heart almost jumped out of her chest as she felt him lay down beside her told her otherwise.

"(M/C)." He called.

"Yup?"

"You're going to end up falling off if you stay on the edge there. It is much comfier here in the middle, come."

The way his voice dropped at the last word made her feel things, particularly in her lower region. She shook off the thoughts before it could conquer her whole body. Giving the wall she had been staring at for minutes an internal farewell, she finally faced him for the first time she lied in his bed that night.

The butterflies in her stomach flying around for fun were now in chaos.

Right before her was Lucifer in a plain black shirt, looking as ethereal as ever. With a cheeky smile on his lips, his gloveless hand gave the space beside him a pat and she settled closer beside him like the fool that she was.

"Happy?"

He chuckled, most likely at how her face was heating up. "Very. So what's the true reason?"

"Excuse me?"

"What was the reason you couldn't sleep?" He must have noticed how she froze for a second for he let out another snicker. "Don't act so surprised. You laugh for no reason whenever you aren't being truthful. A pretty bad liar for someone so cunning."

She should feel embarrassed but the way he noticed this little fact about her just made her grin. "Alright, you got me. I didn't lie about the horror movie, though. We did watch one but... yeah, it's not the reason I couldn't sleep."

Crimson eyes just stared at her as if asking her to continue. (M/C) sighed. "I was just missing my life back home. That's all."

"Are you not enjoying your stay here?"

"No! No, of course not. I like it here. You and your brothers are like family to me. Sometimes I just miss my family in the human world, you know?"

He hummed in what seemed like understanding. "It can't be helped. You've never been away from them for this long, correct?"

She shook her head in response, chest getting heavy at the fact that she haven't talked to her family in months. "No. I guess this is normal, though, I'm just naturally a family person. I rarely even go to sleepovers just because it feels weird not being a room away from them."

"Is that so?" His eyes avoided hers. "We aren't as different as I thought."

Most people would be taken aback if they heard his last words, but (M/C) knew better. Lucifer wasn't the most affectionate brother. In fact, he seemed like someone who'd leave all his brothers tied up on a railway if he could, but in truth, he would just leave to destroy the train itself. "You don't like sleepovers too?" She joked.

Something in her chest blooms when a small laugh came out of him. "If what we are doing now is what you consider a sleepover, then no, it is certainly to my liking." Their eyes met again and she swore she melted right then and there. "Regardless, the purpose of a sleep over is well, to sleep. Unless you really are terrified because of that horror film."

"Pff. Why would I be terrified? I'm with the strongest demon in all of Devildom."

"You are aware I could kill you, no?" It was almost funny how causally he just said it.

She shrugged. "So could anyone."

"Death doesn't scare you?"

"I mean, honestly I'm much more scared of hurting the people I'd leave behind." She answered without hesitation. "You're probably the one not scared of it." Could you even die? She thought of asking but decided to keep her mouth shut.

An odd expression grew on his face, a look she haven't seen before. It was much softer yet gloomier for some reason. "No." He let out a deep sigh as he avoided her eyes again. "Losing someone because of death, however..."

He didn't continue, and he didn't have to. The sorrow in his voice already had the weight of a thousand words.

"You know how dangerous it is out there, especially for a human. May I remind you that you're nothing but a walking dinner for most demons." He continued.

"I know that, alright? You don't have to remind me. I promise, I won't do it again." She said, taking defeat for she just wanted to get this over with. Running away from a gang of demons as she feared for her own life took a lot of energy out of her and she just wanted to rest, but she knew Lucifer was far from done.

"You better. Can you imagine what would happen if I didn't find you sooner? Not only would you get hurt and ruin the exchange program but you also–"

Something in her snapped, heart dropping deep into her stomach.

Of course. Of fucking course.

"I also what?" She asked confidently despite her whole body trembling. She didn't miss how his eyes widened for a second. "Could've damaged yours and Diavolo's reputation? Could've given you more paper works and bills to pay?"

(M/C)'s fists clenched, slapping herself internally for even thinking that he actually, genuinely cared for her, that she was important enough for him to risk his life protecting her when all this time, he was just protecting someone else's name.

All the hand holding, the good night kisses, the times he asked her to stay in line on the phone for comfort, the soft smiles, it was all done for business. He must've noticed how fond she was of him and took it to his advantage.

He was doing all of those only to make her experience at the Devildom more pleasing so she wouldn't write anything negative about the student exchange program. It was all about the stupid exchange program. In the back of her head, she already knew this could be the case, so why did it still leave a heavy weight in her chest?

She scoffed pityingly at her own foolishness. "What else, huh? I could've ruin Diavolo's dreams of strenghtening the relationship between the three worlds–"

"This isn't just about that." He let his fists fall on his side.

With tears forming in her eyes, she dared to step forward. "Well, sorry, Vice president! I didn't mean to give the student council another headache."

"(M/C)."

"I'm sorry for leaving a bad record to Diavolo's precious–"

"–YOU COULD'VE DIED!"

In the aftermath of the shout, the silence seemed so deafening. It was his turn to take a step closer and it was only then when she noticed it.

He was shaking. "You could've died." He said, softer this time. "This is more than just because of the program. I nearly lost you." There was that odd expression again.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as her mind went back to one of their previous conversations in his bed. Not missing the way his hand kept slightly lifting up and back down as he talked, she took the initiative and placed her own on his cheek. "But I'm still here." She said, almost in a whisper for they were so close, their bodies were almost touching.

He put his hand on top of hers, gently kissing its palm as an unspoken apology. It wasn't much, he was still the avatar of pride after all, but it warmed her heart that he was trying.

Taking her hand and intertwining it with his own, his head dropped to her shoulder. His soft breathing tickled her skin. As she thread her fingers through his hair, she couldn't help but appreciate this side of him. This was the Lucifer no one had ever seen, the Lucifer who despised even the thought of not being by her side, the one who loved hand holding, the one who'd turn into a blushing mess whenever she'd kiss him out of nowhere, the Lucifer only she got to see.

With a deep sigh, he finally spoke again. "What am I going to do with you?"

She tried to pull away to respond but as soon as she moved, his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back in. (M/C) couldn't protest, she didn't want to, so they stayed close for a long while.