#they all play different roles but I’ll be damned

[larkspurglove]

Man the next three banners are going to be hell because if the prophetic visions are anything to go off Sparkle, Acheron and Aventurine are going to be CRACKED.

And unless the anniversary (which I’m assuming is 2.1) decides to drop another free limited five star on us I can only afford two of them at the most. F2pain man

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

A Wedding To Remember And A Proposal To Come

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 3k words 

summary: You’re Penny’s maid of honour. Bradley is Mav’s best man. And after planning this perfect wedding, you’re thinking about your future with him. 

top gun masterlist

You had spent the last two months dedicating every minute of your free time - after work, five minutes before work, 2am when you’d been supposed to be sleeping but there’s only one catalogue left and just go back to bed if you’re tired, Bradley - to this very moment. Standing next to Penny in her stunning white dress, watching Maverick in his tux smiling the broadest smile you’d ever seen, listening to the officiant say those magical words: “You may now kiss the bride.” 

And hell, if it hadn’t been worth it. 

All that time on white couches sipping champagne with Amelia and your mother (Amelia drinking orange juice, of course, you were responsible adults) as Penny tried on one dress after another; all that time calling venues, bakeries, photographers; all that time assembling flowers and napkins and deciding on the dress code (it was kind of a military wedding after all, but you’d be damned if you let anyone turn up in fucking uniforms or something); all that time planning the bachelor and bachelorette parties. It had all been worth it. 

Especially now, as Mav leaned in, as they kissed, as you caught Bradley’s gaze and smiled. He was standing there next to Maverick in his tux and tie, eyes twinkling as they landed on yours, his lips tugging upwards in a way that said “We really did it”. You dabbed at your eyes to keep the tears at bay. You’d done that too many times to count today. 

He looked perfect like this. He looked perfect sleep-deprived at 5 in the morning in the dim light of the kitchen lamp too, bleary-eyed and yawning, mindlessly tapping photos of napkins in the catalogue on the table as you scolded him - ”That’s pink, Bradley, are you kidding me? Penny wants to keep it classy.” “Does she really or do you?” (You’d slapped him for that). But right now... You could very well imagine yourself in Penny’s place, him in Mav’s. You could very well imagine kissing him right here, right now, rolling the word “husband” around in your mind. And sure, you’d pictured marrying him before, but this, this was different. 

When the newly-wed couple pulled back, the guests went wild with applause. You included. Penny was grinning, laughing, fingers intertwined with Mav’s as she turned to the guests, then to you, and you let out a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh as you threw your arms around her. 

“Congrats, Pen”, you whispered. “I’m unbelievably happy for you. Mav is one lucky man.” 

“He is, isn’t he?”, she laughed, pulling you close, swaying you for a second before she let go. You couldn’t do anything but grin at her. Never in a million years would you have thought that it would come to this - her happy in Mav’s arms, in her husband’s arms. And you had to admit, you were pretty proud of the role you’d played in this wedding. Until now, everything had gone down perfectly, just like you’d planned, just like you’d wished for, and you were positive that it wouldn’t change now - you were done with the most stressful part after all. 

“He better treat you like a goddess or I’ll make sure he regrets it”, you promised. Tears shone in her eyes as well. “You deserve so much, Pen.” 

She pulled you close again, tightening her arms around you for another moment, then she really released you, embracing Amelia before you’d as much as stepped away. You turned to the freshly baked husband to watch him let go of Bradley, throwing yourself at him too, arms around his neck, knocking him back a little. 

“Congrats”, you whispered. You pulled back to look at him as you grinned. “She’s a very special woman. Don’t let go of her.” 

“Not planning on it, Ma’am”, he chuckled and you laughed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Very glad to have you in my family, Maverick. Officially now”, you said, then stepped aside so the other guests could come say their congratulations as well.

Your elbow hit something. Before you could turn to see what it was, two hands sneaked around your waist, tugging you back. You didn’t have to look up to know just whose hands that were, especially not when you felt that familiar breath ghost over your ear. 

“Hey”, you muttered, stumbling a few steps into the background, blindly following him as he led you. His hands roaming over your sides, a quick kiss pressed to the exposed skin of your neck. 

“Hey”, he chuckled. 

“We really outdid ourselves”, you smiled. It was the truth. 

“No, you outdid yourself. I barely helped.” 

You laughed as you let your fingertips trail up and down his arms, just watching the newlyweds get congratulated and enjoying the little private moment with your boyfriend. You’d hardly got any of those over the past few weeks. 

“Don’t downplay your help like that”, you grinned. “You’re the only reason Mav has a tux on today. And you actually managed to pull off the bachelor party without anyone ending up in the ER, which I thought was really admirable.” 

His laugh tickled the back of your neck. 

“We lost Bob for like two hours”, he hummed. You shook your head. 

“You didn’t lose Bob. He fell asleep and none of you guys realised that he hadn’t moved an inch. We made a really good decision not having both parties the same night - I don’t want to imagine what chaos you would have ended up in if I hadn’t been there to pick you up.” 

He spun you around so you were facing him, your palms coming to rest on his chest, and you had to tilt your head back a bit to look at him. A smile seemed to just be etched into your features tonight. You didn’t know if you’d be able to get rid of it until you fell asleep - or if you even wanted to. You felt like you were floating and you weren’t even the one getting married. If you already felt like this just sharing someone else’s joy, god, what mess would you be when you got married one day? (’One day’ sounded so far away too. It didn’t even have to be so far away. You’d been with Bradley for a bit over three years now and neither of you had been shying away from the topic of marriage, especially with planning this one, and you were well aware that it was on the table. Bradley knew that you’d say yes any day - you knew that Bradley would say yes any day. But Penny and Mav were coming first, at least for another few hours.) 

“What would I do without you?”, he hummed, grin playing on his lips, as he leaned down just enough for his breath to graze your lips. 

“Die”, you deadpanned and shrugged, breaking when he laughed. You couldn’t not laugh when he did. 

“Probably”, he muttered, not even denying it - no matter that you’d meant it as a joke - and finally connected your lips, soft and sweet, and your fingers hooked into the collar of his shirt as you pulled him closer, pushed up against him, sighed into his mouth. You’d had way too few of his kisses. You were deprived.

If you weren’t so in love with him, maybe you’d be embarrassed about that. 

When he pulled back, you wanted to groan. But you knew that, for the rest of the night, you’d have to put the wedding first. You’d done it for weeks, you’d last until sunrise. 

“Duty calls”, you mumbled, pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth. His mustache tickled. “We need to get Amelia, get the rose petals and get the car ready.”

His smile was infectious. He pulled you in for another quick kiss (just a quick one, really) and then he let you take his hand and lead him out of the venue, grinning like a school girl dragging her boyfriend through the crowd. 

...

Three hours later you were leaning against Bradley’s torso, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, your shoulder bumping into his chest as you rested your head against his shoulder and groaned. 

“They’re all dancing in there”, you pouted. “And we’ve had to carry presents out ever since dinner.”

It had been going so well until now: Bradley had driven Penny and Mav (and you, in the passenger seat) to the second venue you’d booked (this one for everything after the ceremony), all traditional with flowers on the hood and stuff, dinner had gone wonderfully, speeches had gone even better (you totally hadn’t cried when it had been your turn and you definitely hadn’t cried when it had been Bradley’s) and after dessert they had slow-danced (and you hadn’t cried again, of course). 

But since then you’d been carrying all the gifts people had got them out of the venue and into your car and it was the first thing to go wrong all evening. Because there were so many gifts that they didn’t fit. You’d had to improvise: Bradley hadn’t yet drunk too much to drive so you’d driven to their house and stacked everything in their living room. Now, nearly an hour later, you were done packing the second (and last) portion and to be honest, you were dying to get back inside. 

Yes, you were tired, worn out, close to exhausted - but you’d worked so hard for this, had worked so hard on this, that you didn’t particularly feel like missing out on any more of it. Especially because your parents had not only offered to take in Amelia for the night (which otherwise you would have done) and the honeymoon, but also because they had offered to stay sober and drive you back to your apartment later. So you were looking forward to a night of drinking and dancing with no worries on how to get home. You’d only had one dance with Bradley so far and that was something you desperately wanted to change. 

“We can dance as long as you want to”, he hummed, pressing his face into your hair. You took a deep breath. The scent of his perfume was ever-present, always dancing around the edges of your perception, but when he held you in his arms like this, it was multiplied by a thousand. It was so very him that anything similar to it always reminded you of him, even though he only wore it on special occasions.

“Think I’d like that”, you muttered. His hands wandered from your waist down to your hips, starting to gently rock you back and forth, finding a slow rhythm that had you smiling. Your fingers drew down the sleeves of his tux, intertwining with his, your fingertips grazing the dress you were wearing. 

It was beautiful like this. The silence of the night, the stars in the skies above, the gentle swaying, the heat of his body seeping into yours. You let out a sigh. For the first time in weeks, you felt relaxed. Truly relaxed. 

Even when Bradley had helped you unwind before, there had always been a part of you dead-set on not forgetting about the wedding, about the planning, about the nervousness. But now? Now what could go wrong? You’d made it through the ceremony, through reception, through dinner. You’d made it through the first dance. You’d fulfilled your duties as best man and maid of honour, had done an amazing job no less. You deserved this. You deserved to melt into him like butter, to finally, fully relax. 

“I love you”, he muttered, lips ghosting over your ear. 

“I love you too”, you whispered back, turning your face so that you could kiss him - gentle and slow. There was no rush, no urgency, only utter adoration. 

“Wanna go inside?”, he asked. You hummed against his lips. 

“In a minute.” 

...

It was 12:34 when you were standing breathlessly next to Phoenix, leaning on her shoulder a little, and your mother came up to you with a smile. 

“I’ll take Amelia home now. You and Bradley just tell your father when you want to go, alright? He’s been talking to Henry the whole night, I doubt he’ll want to leave earlier.” 

You reached for her and pulled her into a quick hug, a smile on your lips as well. Okay, maybe you were just a little drunk. But hey, you had every right to be. 

“Thanks, mum. But we’ll stay until this whole thing’s over, duties and all.” 

“Alright”, she said, a critical edge to her voice. “But if you’re tired or anything, you go home, yes? You know Penny wouldn’t want you to stay just for her.” 

“Yes, mum” - you rolled your eyes at her - “I think I’m old enough to make that decision.” 

Bradley came back then, two glasses in his hands, handing one to you as he slipped an arm around your waist and looked at your mother. You leaned back against him. He’d stripped off his jacket and his tie some time between ten and now, popped the first few buttons of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. 

“Leaving already?”, he asked your mother. She smiled at him and nodded. 

“I think it’s been enough for Amelia”, she shrugged. “She’s almost fallen asleep on my shoulder twice.”

“She was dancing with us like half an hour ago”, you recalled, resting your head on Bradley’s shoulder. He tugged you closer into him. 

“Teenagers”, your mother laughed. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. I’ll go say bye to Penny and then we’re off.”

You leaned forward a bit to hug her close again for a second. You’d hugged many, many people today. 

“Goodnight, mum. We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

“Night, hun. And you” - she pointed at Bradley with a grin - “Take care of her for me.”

“Always do, Ma’am”, he chuckled. Your mother laughed and shook her head. 

“I know you do, Bradley. You’re a good man. Have fun, you two, don’t worry about Penny and Mav too much. Your father was blackout drunk when he was her best man and she still managed everything.”

She made her way through the crowd to get to Penny, who was sitting, hand in hand with Maverick, at a table, chatting and laughing with friends. You rested your head back against Bradley’s shoulder as you watched her say goodbye and then grab Amelia, who’d been dozing off next to your father. You couldn’t help but smile. 

They were all here, all of your friends and family. The squad, your parents, your grandparents, Amelia. Tons of other people Penny and Maverick knew, some of them military, some of them not. You felt like you belonged here. In that dim light, with all the people you loved, in Bradley’s arms. Shit, this could’ve been your own wedding and you probably wouldn’t have been any happier. 

“Bradshaw”, you muttered, reaching for his hand on your hip to trail your fingertips up his skin. Soft, warm. He hummed. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” 

“That we should have another dance?”, he asked, and you could hear the grin on his lips. He was playing. 

“Not quite”, you mumbled, turning around in his arms and putting your drink down on the nearest table. Phoenix wasn’t next to you anymore. You didn’t know where she’d gone. You didn’t really care. All that mattered was Bradley. Here with you right now, eyes locked on yours, hands intertwined. He brought them up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. 

“Tell me, baby”, he muttered. You felt your breath catch. 

“I thought... I thought-” 

You broke off with a sigh and frowned, annoyed at your own inability to get the words out right. 

“Take your time”, he soothed, kissing your knuckles again, guiding your hands to rest on his chest as he put his arms around you and pulled you close, fingers dancing across your lower back. 

“I keep imagining if this was ours”, you admitted, a little breathless. “You know, our wedding. Our ceremony, our reception, our party. Everything.” 

You didn’t know why you felt shy admitting it. Really, it wasn’t like it was some fantasy - you’d not talked about the details, but you’d both said before that you felt ready for marriage. It probably came natural to think about it when you were planning a wedding. But saying it out loud still made your heart skip a beat, your pulse quicken, your cheeks heat up. 

Bradley smiled. As if on cue, your insecurities were washed away, no words needed to tell you that there was nothing to be nervous about. 

“I’d marry you on the spot”, he admitted, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Anywhere, anytime.”

When he kissed you, really kissed you, you were on cloud nine - safe and sound in his arms, allowing every struggle, every strain, every thought to melt away. If you could stay in his arms forever, you would. He was a god, your god, perfect in every way imaginable and the only man you would ever want to spend the rest of your life with. Or any other day of your life. Or minute. Or second. He was the one, you were so very sure of that. And apparently, whatever almighty force up there was responsible for it, he felt the same about you. 

“Was that a proposal?”, you teased, knowing well enough that drama queen Bradley Bradshaw would certainly not let this be the way he popped the question. 

“No”, he chuckled. “That was the truth. You’ll know when I propose to you.” 

You pulled him in for another quick kiss, grinning against his lips as you broke away, reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers to tug him back towards the dance floor. You still had a few hours to kill after all - before Penny and Mav were home, you weren’t done here. 

“So that’s planned already?”, you asked with a laugh. 

He twirled you once and let you rest your head against his chest, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “Since the day I met you, baby.” 

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

There was no Redemption or Damnation. Chloe Doesn't Actually Have an Arc at All

Does Chloe have an abandoned redemption arc?

No. Absolutely not. She also doesn't have a “damnation” arc or really any arc at all. She is a font of wasted potential for both redemption and damnation who never gets a true chance at either path. To explain what I mean, I have to first discuss the two types of redemption arcs and also how damnation arcs work. I’ll be doing this by discussing the guy who started the redemption arc trend, Zuko, and why his story doesn’t work for people like Chloe.

The Two Types of Redemption + Some Bonus Damnation

There are two general paths to redemption: redemption through a change in worldview (the easy path) and redemption through a change in self (the hard path).

Redemption through a change in worldview is what happens when you take a character who is a fundamentally good person and give them a messed up worldview, usually through their upbringing. The story will see that worldview challenged, resulting in the character changing how they view the world, but that’s about it. They don’t really have to make major changes to themselves at a fundamental level.

This is Zuko’s path. He’s born in the Fire Nation and raised to think that the Fire Nation is good. He also has a strong sense of honor and wants to do right by his people. When he’s included in a war council and told that the army leaders are going to willingly sacrifice Fire Nation troops, he stands up and says that’s wrong. This act results in him getting banished. During his banishment, he gets to see the rest of the world and learn that the Fire Nation is, in fact, NOT good. This ultimately leads to him switching sides because he has a strong sense of honor and wants to do right by his people. Who he is and how he acts never really changes.

Chloe is not like Zuko. She is a selfish, egotistical, petty, spoiled brat. For her to be redeemed, she has to accept that fundamental aspects of her character are deeply flawed. This might involve some changes to her worldview, but that’s only a tiny piece of what needs to change and I’m honestly not sure that she really has a messed up worldview. There are multiple instances where it’s clear that she knows that she’s being mean or bad and just doesn’t care.

This brings us to the topic of damnation arcs. For something to be a damnation arc, a person has to be presented with a choice between good and evil and they have to choose evil. Zuko actually has one of these. At the end of the second season of Avatar, Zuko is given the choice to join the good guys or to join his sister and be accepted back into his family.

He chooses his sister.

That’s a damnation arc because Zuko truly had a chance to change sides. The scene would play very differently if Zuko had to choose between staying in exile and joining his sister. Joining his sister would still be the wrong move, but it’s no longer damnation. It’s just doing a bad thing vs doing nothing (though it can be argued to be somewhat damning since Zuko is going against his own morals). Along similar lines, Zuko is redeemed when he chooses to abandon his family to do what’s right even though it costs him everything he wanted: his family, his girlfriend, and his home.

This is where Chloe’s “damnation” and redemption arcs fall apart. There is no point in the series where she’s actively given a choice between good and evil. She only ever makes choices between inaction and evil or inaction and good. Does that make her a good person? Hell no! But it does make the argument that she had an arc fall very flat. She never gets better, but it's hard to say that she gets worse.

Chloe’s Choices: The Good and The Bad

Chloe becomes Queen Bee without anyone saying she was fit for the role. She just finds a miraculous and uses it. The way she uses it is selfish, egotistical, and petty. In other words, it’s just Chloe being Chloe. While the actions she takes are horrible and definitely deserve punishment, they’re in character. She’s not acting worse than normal, she’s just being herself, but with superpowers. If she’d been given the miraculous and been charged to be a hero, then her actions would be damning because she would be choosing to go against her charge. But she’s not. She has no charge.

To really assess if Chloe has potential to change, you have to look at what she does when she’s given the choice to be good and this is where things get messy.

This is how Chloe’s first encounter with her miraculous ends:

Ladybug: I have to get the Miraculous back, Chloé. (in the background, Nadja's van arrives) Chloé: Give me a second chance, please! Nadja: (holding a tablet with Audrey on it) Audrey Bourgeois, tell us live how you feel about what just happened. Audrey: (on the tablet) According to me, Chloé just clearly demonstrated that there is nothing exceptional about her. Cat Noir: (puts a hand on Chloé's shoulder) I know that you did the things you did to impress your mother. Ladybug: Anyone can make mistakes, even a superhero. What matters is how you fix them. I personally made one by losing that Miraculous. Don't make the mistake of not giving it back. Act like a hero. Cat Noir: And show everyone how exceptional you can be. (Chloé hands Ladybug the Miraculous) Ladybug: Thank you. Chloé: (the duo are about to run off) Ladybug? Cat Noir? (the cameraman moves closer) I'm sorry.

Chloe doesn't fight to keep her miraculous. A few quick lines are all it takes for her to hand it over. When Ladybug gives Chloe the chance to act like a hero would, Chloe acts like a hero. The same can be said of every subsequent time when Ladybug gives Chloe the bee miraculous. Every time Chloe is called upon to be Queen Bee, she does the job to the best of her abilities and acts as a functional member of the team. She's not incompetent. She doesn't put the team in danger so that she can be in the spotlight. Heck, the very next time she gets it, Chloe willingly admits that her father’s akumatization was her fault.

Chloé: It— it was me. I hurt my daddy's feelings. Because I want to leave Paris, forever. Ladybug: Because of what happened in school? I'm sure Marinette probably didn't exactly mean what she said. Chloé: Oh, it's not just her— actually, I don't even care about her— it's because I have no reason to be here: nobody likes me; I have no friends. I'm… useless. Ladybug: (remembering what Adrien told Marinette earlier at school about Chloé) A friend once told me: nobody is useless, Chloé. Chloé: It's easy for you to say that. You're Ladybug, a superhero. You serve a purpose. Ladybug: Yes, I can fix up all the messes. You said it yourself in your documentary. Chloé: (gasps) You saw it?! Ladybug: (nods) Mm-hmm. Chloé: Oh! I'm so embarrassed. That film's ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. I realize that now. Ladybug: Don't worry Chloé. You can fix your own messes, if that's what you want. You, too, can serve a purpose, but you have to want to. Chloé: (sniffles) I do want to.

When Ladybug asks Chloe to be a better person, Chloe is a better person.

This is why I say that Chloe has a perfectly functional view of the world. She knows when she’s doing something wrong and is able to do good when challenged to do so. Even on the civilian side, we see that Chloe is willing to be a little better when given the proper motivation. In Despair Bear, Adrien says he’ll end their friendship and so Chloe actively tries to save that friendship even if she hates every minute of it. Similarly, in Zombiezoo, Chloe sacrifices herself so that Ladybug can win.

Now, none of this is a redemption. It is, at best, the foundation for a redemption. We see that Chloe has the potential to be good when challenged to do so by the right person or circumstance, but she’s not trying to be better outside of those moments when she’s challenged. For her redemption to really start, she has to choose good over evil. She has to start improving when Ladybug isn’t watching or when Adrien isn’t threatening their friendship. For it to be a damnation, she has to choose evil over good.

She is never truly given that choice.

The two big scenes where Chloe gets “worse” are at the end of Queen Wasp and at the end of Hearthunter. However, in both of those scenes, no one gives her a choice to be better even though she’s primed and ready to make that choice.

Queen Wasp: When the Civilian Moment Should Have Happened

At the tail end of Queen Wasp, Marinette has the choice to go to New York with Audrey or stay in Paris. She chooses Paris, but brings Chloe with her to try and repair the relationship between mother and daughter. Here, Marinette gets to really see just how little Audrey cares for Chloe.

In a show where Chloe has a character arc, this should be the moment when she’s given a choice. She’s just spent the whole episode trying to get her mom to love her and it’s gone nowhere. Marinette, our hero, is standing right there, fully capable of saying, “You know what Chloe, your mom sucks and you don't need her validation. I know some people who already think that you're awesome. Come on, let’s get you back home and I’ll call Adrien and Sabrina to meet us there.”

Instead, this is what happens:

Marinette: I think you're wrong. A huge part of your life is here in Paris, too! (she steps aside, showing Chloé and Butler Jean) Audrey: Chlorene? Uh— Chloé? Chloé: (looks at her mother, then at Marinette in a guilty manner, then back at her mom) Why don't you love me, Mom? Audrey: But… Uh— Of course I l-l-love you. Marinette: (groans) You're also wrong about your daughter not being exceptional. In fact, Chloé is exceptionally mean. She's the worst person I've ever met. She may be more heinous, pompous and selfish than you. Compared to both of you, even a rock seems more capable of love. (Audrey and Chloé are furious with Marinette for telling mean things to them.) Chloé and Audrey: (shouting) How dare you⁈ (gasp and look surprised at each other) Marinette: See? You're both much more alike than you think. (walks off; humming)

…our hero, Ladies and Gentlemen.

I’m not saying that Chloe’s poor behavior is Marinette’s fault. Chloe’s choices are her own, but it’s hard to say, “why didn’t she change?” when even Ladybug doesn’t seem to want her to. If no one is actively encouraging Chloe whenever she does better, then it's 1000x harder for her to get better. Fake it til you make it is a huge part of self improvement. Being a better person for validation or selfish reasons often leads to meaningful change and is a legitimate way to start a self-driven redemption arc. (Go watch The Good Place if you want a prime example of this.)

Hearthunter: When the Hero Moment Should Have Happened

Hearthunter and Miracle Queen are supposedly the end of Chloe’s “damnation” arc. The moment where she makes the wrong choice and, to be clear, Chloe does the wrong thing here. Helping Hawkmoth is a bad move and she deserved to face some consequences. However, the choice to help Hawkmoth has the weirdest setup for a “damnation” arc that I’ve ever seen.

In Miraculer, we get this line from Gabriel: all I need is for [Chloe] to lose all hope in Ladybug. To become angry enough so I can akumatize her.

This is also the episode where Chloe rejects an akuma (Chloé: No, Hawk Moth! I am a superheroine! I am Queen Bee! Ladybug will come and get me when she needs me! I WILL NEVER JOIN YOU!), the episode where Lila helps manipulate Chloe into doubting Ladybug, and the episode where Ladybug tell’s Chloe that she’ll never be Queen Bee again, setting up the tension for the season final.

However, even though that tension is set, the thing that turns Chloe to the dark side is… her parents being akumatized. Not some random akuma that Chloe wants to help with. Not Hawkmoth just randomly showing up with the bee. No, we have both of Chloe's parents as the victim of the day and Ladybug actively chooses Ryuuko over Queen Bee, making Chloe the first and only hero who doesn’t get called in when a loved one is in trouble.

All of that leads to this:

Hawk Moth: Chloé Bourgeois, rejections hurt! (Chloé turns to face him) Your talents deserve to be recognized! Ladybug and Cat Noir's reign has gone on long enough. It's time for Paris to have a new queen, and the Queen Bee on my chessboard is you. Chloé: You've akumatized my parents! If I had my Miraculous I'd- Hawk Moth: (puts up his hand and interrupts) You're right, but I did it for one reason only. So that you would finally realize that Ladybug will never give you the Bee Miraculous again. I, however, always keep my promises. (shows her the Bee Miraculous in his hand) Chloé: This isn't real! How do you have it? Hawk Moth: Try it and see for yourself. You're Ladybug's greatest fan. You've helped her, you've trusted her, and what has she done for you in return? Chloé: (gets angry) Nothing! She couldn't care less about me! I'm done with her. She's irrelevant, utterly irrelevant! (reaches out to grap the Miraculous, stops) I want you to deakumatize has my parents first!

Just like with Queen Wasp, Chloe does the wrong thing. She didn’t have to take the bee. She didn't have to stay selfish, egotistical, and petty. But at the same time, this isn’t really a damning act. It's an act that makes her unsuitable to be Queen Bee again, but she wasn't going to be Queen Bee anyway. She wasn't choosing to be a villain over a hero. She was just choosing to be selfish at a time when she's been actively manipulated and when her parents are in danger.

In other words, this is just Chloe being Chloe. She’s acting the same way she did when she first got her miraculous. If no one is going to believe in her, then why should she be a better person? Why shouldn't she just stay the same? She's arguably no worse than she was in Queen Wasp, the consequences are just greater because of Hawkmoth's plan and the powers he gives her. The only real change is that she no longer idolizes Ladybug so Ladybug no longer has a chance to encourage Chloe to be a better person, but Ladybug never did that anyway, so what does it really matter?

Once again, none of this is to blame Marinette. She doesn't have to try and make her bully a better person. That's a huge ask. But with no one actively trying to make Chloe better even when she shows that she can be better when given the right motivation, it's silly to say that Chloe had a damnation arc or really any arc at all. She ended where she started and, if that's all they wanted to do with her, then they should have just left her as a one-dimensional mean girl instead of making her one of the most developed characters in this bloated mess of a show.

Personally, I would have liked to see a redemption arc because I enjoy morally grey characters and it would have been nice to have someone on the team who wasn't a kind, sweet, goody-goody (for a team with 18 freaking members, there's really no moral diversity, which is boring). It also would have stopped Chloe and Lila filling the same basic role for 3 seasons, which was stupid. (Why do you think Lila showed up so little? It's because Chloe could do almost everything she could do and do it better.) Second choice would be don't develop Chloe, leave her as a petty mean girl and give her focused screen time to Nino and Adrien. Their relationship is barely a thing and that's disappointing considering its strong setup. Cutting Lila and giving Chloe a true damnation arc would have also been far more satisfying.

[witchblood-if]

“A Macigian never reveals their secrets. A Witch even less so.”

Well, you had a good run. For the last 70 or so years that you've had your little shop in Esmar's capital, nothing overly exciting happened. Apart from the occasional political changes and economical shifts, you could mostly carry on business as usual. But when the Fae calling herself your "best and only friend" invites you to pull a heist on your rival's home you didn't realize what effect that stunt would have on your immortal life. But damn, you really wanted that statue back.

Play Demo

Witch Blood is an upcoming urban fantasy interactive fiction story where you take on the role of one of the last proper witches of Esmar, hoping to resolve a very time-sensitive mystery that might cost you your own life if you don’t get on with the investigation soon.

Does it have to do with random people’s head exploding?

Is this the reason you seem to have more prophetic dreams than usual?

Why are there so many strangers storming into your shop demanding answers you couldn’t possibly know?

And why does your familiar keep eating your receipts? You need those for your taxes!

Create your very own witch. Appearance, personality, gender and sexuality...  All that Jazz

Choose a furry (or non-furry) companion for your immortal life

Become a master of 5 witchy skills that may or may not help you along the road

Keep your business afloat (you got bills to pay, after all)

Solve a mystery, save a bunch of people, and meet the Gods (???)

Find love, friendship, or rivalry (or maybe all three of them at the same time) with 5 different people who will. Not. Leave. You. Alone.

And for the love of the Gods: please stop spitting coins

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So far it will probably be a 16+ kind of rating for:

Mentions of violence, blood and gore

Strong language, cursing

Suggestive language

but things might change. I’ll keep you updated in any case.

The Best Friend: Faith (f)

Flirty and flighty, Faith is certainly living her best life. And while she’s not always the most reliable of friends, she always shows up for your weekly tea and gossip session (and more often than not with baked goods as well). If you’re looking for a fun night out: Faith is your gal. Don’t ask how she pays for all of it without having a job though.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Knight in Shining Armor: Isaac (m)

A stranger visiting your shop and ... flirting with you? Thankfully you’ve lived long enough to see through his ploy and stay unaffacted to his charms. Mostly. With a quick smile, a stance almost too relaxed and some really suspicious questions you can’t quite get a read on him. And you have the feeling he is also not really a tourist interested in your special sale items.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Loyal Advisor: Eli (f/m/nb)

Another stranger. This one seems much more honest than the last one but somehow you haven’t decided yet if you appreciate that or not. They say there is a problem their employer has sent them to hopefully solve and after some extensive research you seemed to be the least untrustworthy person of your craft to potentially help. You can’t quite tell from their stoic face if that sentence was supposed to be a compliment, a joke or very subtle sarcasm. But the pay they offer is nothing to turn your nose up at and you’ve worked for way shadier people.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Crazy Mushroom: Mezilkree (f/m/nb)

Mezilkree has been a frequent visitor of yours for quite some years. Mostly they just hang out at your shop and try to scare potential customers. When you try to make them leave they declare they are a customer, throw a bottle cap on your counter and shove a handful of candy from the jar you keep for kids in their mouth. Sometimes they even do buy something if they’re on an errand for their family, but as their community grows more and more resentful of non-mushrooms this occasion becomes rarer and rarer. In the many years of botherment, you have found Mezilkree to be a mischievous but sweet troublemaker. Some of the time, at least.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Other Witch: Levan (nb)

An Enemy. A Fiend. Your Immortal Rival. Most of the time you and Levan stay clear of each other, as is agreed upon in your Contract of Geniality. But now they have decided to steal a very valuable artifact you have spent months on locating. At least you’re pretty sure it was them, who else would be skilled enough to enter your home. Even though you don’t particularly get along, Levan is a witch you have known for the longest of time. But because of their spiteful nature and (admittedly somewhat deserved) arrogance you have long decided to avoid them, lest you burn down the whole town in a fit of anger. They really know how to push your buttons.

ROs Physical Appearance 

Witch Types

Demo

#ro ask ----> Scenarios and asks including all ROs

#ros ----> unspecific general info about ROs

#ch: [name] ----> info about that RO, often paired with #ros

#ch: carter ----> facts and info and rambling about the author

#mc ----> anything to do with your character, customization and so on

#lore and #lore ask ----> anything that’s about worldbuilding

#story and story ask ----> anything to do with plot

#lovely ocs ----> readers showing off their ocs

#lovely readers ----> lovely words from lovely people

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello my lovelies! This is a first attempt at Interactive Fiction, and on an even more important to note: a first real attempt at writing. I hope it doesn’t suck too much! Also please forgive orthographic and grammatical errors, English isn’t my first language :) (if you see something, say something tho)

Currently the prologue is in the works and will face some editing and expanding.

Until then,

Love, Carter

[justmywriting1313]

Hi! I came to see if there were any updates about Stupid ( absolutely no rush I just love your writing and crave more ♥️) but I saw you said we can send in requests for promts so can I get 56, 72, and 90 with neteyam please? Just absolute fluff of him loving his his perfect mate

God you’re so precious – 56

You’re being cute and sweet. It’s making me want to kiss you – 72

You’re my baby, and i’ll be damned if anyone tries to say otherwise – 90

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and soft Nete, Unedited cause I am a lazy bish... anyway enjoy and PLEASE PLEASE request more... it helps the creative juices and all that shabang

Neteyam has many titles he holds. Some that he took on willingly and others that were pushed upon him. From being the oldest son of Toruk Makto to the strongest warrior in his clan. From being the future olo'ekytan to being a protector for his reckless siblings. However, if you were to ask him what his favourite title would be...

The one he takes most seriously... His answer would always be – being your mate. It was what gave all the other roles in Neteyam's life meaning. For being Toruk Makto's eldest son meant nothing if he could not make you proud. Being the best warrior meant nothing if he could not protect you from all the horrors of the world. For future olo'ekytan meant nothing if you weren't his Tsahik...

Your mate, his proudest title yet... And it is exactly why everyone knows, this clan or the next, that in the morning hours of the day when the little ones of the clan still sleep, and the sun has just begin to light the forest casting soft rays of light through the tree branches, to not go looking for their olo'ekytan.

For those few hours, before the world became a whirlwind of responsibilities that Neteyam has to hold, he holds the one thing he wants to; you. It's where he finds himself right now. His eyes lidded and lovesick as he looks up at your giggling face.

He lay on his back, with his knees bent and feet on the ground. The soft grass tickling his azure skin as he trailed his hands up your sides, basking in your laughter. You sat with your legs on either side of Neteyam's waist as you twitched at the tickling sensation of his hands, whining and trying to lean back. Neteyam could only chuckle at your soft noises, before pulling you back upright with a firm grip of your waist. He lightly pinched your side as mock punishment for thinking you could get away. He would always pull you back to him. He watched you scrunch up your nose as you complained,

"Neteyammm... stop that it's ticklish..." your body shuddering as Neteyam's hands reached the bottom of your breasts. His thumbs going back and forth over your soft curves. He let his hands drift as he pretended to ponder the answer before teasing you back,

"Hmmm let me think about it... nope" you huffed in response. Neteyams hands ran over the curve of your breasts before coming to hold your shoulders. His hands softly massaging the skin there before they drifted over your collarbones.

"And why not?" Your own hands coming to rest on the smooth planes of his chest as you steadied yourself on Neteyam.

"Because..." An idea slowly formed in your head as your small curious hands looked for Neteyams on your body.

"Because what?" You slowly pulled his hands of you, intertwining your fingers as you did so, smiling at the difference in the size. Both your hands playing in the air as Neteyam replied,

"Because its making you all cute and sweet which in return is making me want to kiss you..." You leaned your face forward at his soft words and just as Neteyam craned his neck forward, excited about his well deserving kiss. You tightened both legs on either side of his waist, pinning him with your full weight as your pinned his hands on either side of his head. Neteyam's eyes widened as he tried in vain to move his torso. Above him your hair swayed to one side, your giggles taking over the clearing as you cheered in victory,

"There! your wandering hands can't make a mess of me now" You sealed the words with a quick kiss to his cheek. And although Neteyam preened under even the softest of affections from you, he lay in shock at the fact that his delicate mate had thought she could pin him down. He let you enjoy your little victory for a minute, his face relaxing at the giggles that were still decorating the air. He took in your glee as he firmly planted his own feet on the ground...

And in the next minute he was flipping you two over. He hardly used any strength, his own body weight more than enough to reverse your positions. He pinned your hands on either side of your head, as he now straddled your waist, keeping most of his weight on his knees. He watched you try in vain to push him off but it was an exercise in futility. You huffed loudly, your cheeks puffing out, your hair splayed out around you like a halo. This time Neteyam laughed a full bellied laugh at your unhappy expression,

"Not fair Neteeee..." But Neteyam cared not for your whining. All he could see was the soft plush of your lips as your big eyes looked up at him in mock anger. Your freckled skin, something he hoped your future children would take after, glowing. Neteyam finally leaned in, fiercely pressing his own lips to yours. What started of as firm kiss turned into something soft and tender as he let go of your hands. Instead he cupped your cheeks lightly pulling you up with him before you both separated. Your eyes were wide as you looked up at your smiling mate before you groaned. Neteyam didn't even need his hands to make a mess of you. All he had to do was smile like he was doing right now. You squeezed your eyes shut, hands coming to cover your blushing face but Neteyam simply laughed once more as he made himself comfortable on top of your body. His head coming to rest in the junction of your neck and shoulder as he pressed loose kisses to your skin,

"Eywa you are too precious..." he muttered "You are my jewel... my lovely little star and i'll be damned if anyone ever says otherwise..." The final words were said with a fierce look in his eyes as he pulled away to look at you and make sure you understood. You just softly smiled at your warrior... Your mate,

"Your mate Neteyam... Always"

Enjoy <3

[thevirtualvalentine]

000. NARUTO, OBITO UCHIHA.

content warnings: (rough) face fucking, tobi who uses his madara impression on you, afab / femme reader, tbh he’s kinda mean, reader wants this guy bad, fatdicked!obito (real),

plot: you fuck around and find out with Tobi, they say curiosity killed the cat.

Can you imagine hanging around the akatsuki, for some reason you’re like .. really attached (attracted) to the goofy guy in the mask that’s just so silly and kinda a joy to be around. He’s real sweet to you and overall a lot different than the other cloaked members you’d met, he talks a bunch too! It helps to fill the more quiet spaces in your life.

You start trying to hold his hand, he’s pretty skittish at first. Pulling away and retracting before he’s the one initiating the touch with you in full force. Grabbing onto you or jumping into your arms when mean n’ grumpy Deidara yells at him for being a shitty partner and a sasori replacement. “Y/n!! Save me! Deidara-senpai is being a big ole meanie. Tobi doesn’t deserve this inhumane treatment! I’ll be calling HR on you.” Always dramatic and so whiny.

Then you keep seeing him, spending time with him alone in remote hideouts. He never takes off that mask of his, but you can clearly see his deep dark eye that stares into you. Even if your conversation isn’t ever breaching bellow surface level, you know he’s listening intently. He may be unserious and full of quirks, but he really does have his own sense of charm. You’ve always felt there was more to this guy than what he’s showing, maybe if you got to know him a bit more .. personally you’d figure it out.

One day you honestly just can’t take it anymore. “Tobi have you ever .. uhhh , you know.” You’re playing with your hands because you feel entirely ridiculous asking this masked entity such a lewd question. You’re starting to think it’s because of that same damn mask that you’re where you are now.

“Have I ever what y/n! You can tell me, Tobi’s a great listener~” he goads you, completely unaware of the whorish request you have in store for him. That same cheerful voice that makes you feel so comforted is asking you to be honest with him, your legs touching as you sit together on the floor.

“Y’know, you ever do it with anyone?” You’re gesturing with your hands nervously as he tilts his head in confusion.

“Do it? Do what! Tobi doesn’t quite understand what pretty miss y/n is asking for.” He places his hands together while leaning his head to the side, playing such an innocent role in all this.

“Has anyone ever sucked your dick?” You can’t even bother to face his masked appearance as it finally tumbled forth from your lips, the question you’ve been itching to ask. “Like, touched you in a way you liked or that felt really good?” He can’t be that unadulterated can he? If so this was going to be a very awkward conversation.

“Ooooo, does y/n wanna make Tobi feel good? Naughty girl asking such questions.” He waggles his finger at you as if to insinuate you were a pervert for asking him anything like that. He doesn’t answer your question but he doesn’t deny it either, pulling the tide of control back into his own hands.

“Eugh not when you put it like that” you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, heat rising throughout your body wishing you could take back what you just asked.

“Tobi doesn’t mind, m’not stoppin you.” A schoolgirl like giggle escapes him as he stands up, shedding the ostentatiously long coat. Oh wow, you didn’t expect this guy to be so built, what the hell was he hiding under that cloak? An all black ensemble that covers him from head to toe but defines all of his muscle groups with a pair of black gloves. Still, the omnipresent mask doesn’t move.

You’re stuck peering up at him from your knees as he slides his fingers beneath your chin, angling your head to face him as he’s shrouded in light. “Still wanna suck my cock? Or did you change your mind.” When he speaks this time he doesn’t sound like Tobi, his eye flickers to life in dark red hues through the hole of his mask. The deep tone makes your jaw drop as you stare at him dumbly, grabbing his wrist as you scramble to make sense of what just happened. His entire being just changed in front of you, not even his chakra feels the same as it did before. They say curiosity killed the cat.

“Tobi?” You ask, almost afraid of what his answer could be. His chakra is dark and ominous, cool and uninviting as it swallows you whole. If Tobi had left and been replaced with another person in the blink of an eye, you’d believe them.

“No.” It’s simple, but you’ll take it. “Go on.”

You meekly nod your head while obeying his command, that voice of his is making your underwear drenched. That same red eye watches your nimble hands shake as you pull his cock out, “I’ll take care of you, good care.” The unnamed man pats your head in an effort to calm you but you just keep getting wetter and wetter each time he speaks. Something in his mannerism compels you to listen as if you’re in a trance.

“So obedient, what a good girl.” He’s not unaware of what his voice is doing to you, sharingan abilities and all. He just finds it cute, been waiting for this day for months. The day you stop beating around the bush and ask him for what he wants.

He’s thick, much thicker and longer than what you thought a man like Tob— no, whoever this man is, would be. You lick your lips at the sight of his angry brown tip that’s leaking thick globs of pre cum, begging for you to lick it up. He’s so hard it’s slapping against his own abdomen. What kind of expression must be on his face beneath that mask to be this stiff right in front of you.

He revels in the way you size him up, unabashed staring at the monster hidden beneath his pants. He thanks his Uchiha genes for such a pretty cock, it’s truly a masterpiece. “Don’t be shy when you were so eager earlier, I don’t bite.” A heavy chuckle leaves him as you start to work his pre up and down his shaft, spitting in your hands as it requires both appendages to fully jerk him off.

Once you find a rhythm with your hands that satisfies the man before you enough to elicit a grunt, you pop his head between your lips, suckling on the slit hoping to make him moan out. “Just like that, what a smart girl you are. You really know how to suck dick, hm?” But again, it’s him making you gush and clench your thighs as you sit up on your knees to suck him off. If you knew it was gonna be like this you would have asked Tobi to fuck eons ago, what the hell???

You start to take more of him in your mouth inch by inch, using a hand to brace yourself against his toned thigh. Your wrist twists in atune with each bob of your head along his girth as your cheeks hollow in. You try breathing through your nose so you won’t ruin the mood by gagging, but he’s just too thick. “What? Too big for you? Thought you wanted to suck my dick.”

You pull off of him trying to explain yourself but he doesn’t care, grabbing you by the curls as his red eye lowers in disappointment. “Less talking, ore sucking.” You’re shoved back on his fat cock while it jabs the back of your throat, effectively face fucking you.

“Your throat’s so warm, mhhm, and tight. Can you breathe down there?” Drool dribbles down his balls as your throat constricts around his cock. Tears forming in your waterline from the assault on your throat. You want to touch yourself to relieve the unbearable ache in your cunny from being used as a hole to fuck but the lack of oxygen makes you dumb, compliant in whatever way he holds your head still with his big hands. His heavy balls slap your chin with each thrust into your face.

It’s exhilarating and you almost wish you could thank him for using you so well, it’s exactly what you’ve been craving. You gurgle around his shaft with each drag of his hips, he doesn’t moan but groans when your tongue laps the underside of his cock. “Such a cute little thing, kept following me around. Wanted to fuck this throat so bad. Kept teasing me too, bet you were fantasizing about it.”

To say this is what you were expecting is far from the truth, you thought you’d have Tobi crying and whimpering while giving him the sloppiest top of his life, but here you are; having your throat bruised by a man you never truly knew. Shouldn’t you be scared? Alarmed?

Your cunt betrays you, oozing at the thought of what his heavy dick could do to your insides. You’d go slack from the intrusion alone, would it even all fit inside you?

Your jaw feels like it’s going to break off it’s hinges if he isn’t more careful with you, but it’s addicting with each revolution of his hips. The black fabric of his shirt riding up to expose scarred skin. Your hands trail up to his v-line and he shudders, “ahh— fuck, don’t do that.” He grabs a fist full of your hair before shoving you down further, not caring if you choke or not. “Make yourself useful, will you?”

His strong hands grip the side of your head, continuously fucking your throat raw in a way that you won’t be able to speak tomorrow. Each thrust of his hips lets the tip of his fat dick kiss the back of your throat and it makes your eyes roll back into your skull. You’re moaning, crying, drooling all from one man and it’s making you stupid.

“Fuck, swallow it. All of it, or there’ll be trouble to pay later.” The playfulness of his voice reminds you of Tobi, but the underlying threat awards you a pang of pleasure in your cunt. Moaning around him sends vibrations that rattle his being, at least you’re listening. “Be good and I may just keep you around.”

He throws his head back with a long groan as he keeps you pinned to his pelvis, you can only take it as his warm seed spills down your throat. You didn’t even have a choice to swallow it or not. Shallow strokes accompany soft curses as he grips your hair for purchase, orgasm causing him to shudder above you. He stumbles back a bit, letting you take care of his after shocks. You slowly pump him as you recover your breath, “you taste good.”

Voice already hoarse but you felt he deserved a compliment for fucking your throat raw. He simply laughs, tucking himself back in his pants. The discarded cloak on the ground resumes being draped back over his shoulders. “And don’t forget~ whatever you saw here you don’t speak about!” He’s back to to twirling around in that idiotic high pitched voice you love so much, a stark contrast to what just happened here. He grabs your hand to pull you up from the floor, wiping your knees of any debris in an animated fashion.

“It’s a Tobi and y/n secret, right y/n?” He extends his pinky to you while you stare at him incredulously trying to figure out which one is the real him.

You’ll later come to find out that it was neither.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Forever My Ariel

Gifs not mine

AN: Don't ever let people discourage you from making your dreams come true and if you haven't seen The Little Mermaid, go see it!

Synopsis: The trailer has just been released for your first feature film and the secret has finally been revealed. However not everyone is happy that you were chosen for the role of Ariel in The Little Mermaid

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Famous!Reader

Always thankful for my loves @hoodharlow and @nattinatalia 💕

Warnings: mention of racism

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

As you were scrolling through your timeline on different social media apps, the tears were steadily cascading down your cheeks and hitting your pillow that was covered by a white satin pillowcase.

You were so excited that your trailer for your acting debut had finally gotten released at midnight and you were incredibly proud of yourself. You had stepped out of your comfort zone and got into acting since you were primarily known for singing with your older sister. 

The Little Mermaid had been one of your favorite movies growing up and now that you had an opportunity to play her was a dream come true. Even though you did have to audition for the role, they approached you first telling you that they wanted for you to play Ariel. 

Then seeing you sing Part of Your World had everyone’s mind set.

They had found their Ariel. 

What you didn't expect was the backslash and people being up in arms simply because….

You were a black woman

Even though Ariel is a fictional character and also a mermaid who everyone knew not to be real, they didn’t mean the outrage was any less.  

One of the top trends on social media was 'Not My Ariel' and of course after you saw it, you had been crying ever since.

At midnight you had sent your boyfriend the trailer to watch on your instagram and he couldn’t stop saying how proud he was of you and now you were thinking that you might not have made the right decision regarding the role.

It was now later in the day and Jack was rehearsing for his upcoming CHTKMY tour and he was due to be back at your condo at any minute and the last thing that you wanted for him to see was you being upset.

You tried to wipe your face as best as you could when you suddenly heard the front door open.

“Shit.” You muttered and you knew that it was too late.

“Babe, where are you? Did you eat yet? I’m starving. Did you want…” Jack immediately stopped talking as he came into the bedroom and saw your tear stained cheeks and you furiously trying to wipe them away. 

“Um, no I didn’t. I’ll eat whatever you order. I don’t really feel like cooking anything tonight.” You said while shrugging and he immediately came over to you.

“Now you know you can’t hide those tears from me so what happened and how can I do my best to help fix it?” Jack asked as you were now sitting up and he quickly slid you onto his lap.

“It’s silly, baby. Don’t worry about it.” You answered trying to reassure him, but you knew deep down that he wasn’t having it. 

“It’s not silly if it has my girl upset.” Jack replied while kissing your cheek but all you did was shake your head.

All you did was sigh in response and you quickly went to lay your head on his shoulder and without warning, the tears started all over again.

“Baby, the last thing I want is to see you cry and you know that.”

You simply opened Twitter and handed him your phone so he could see the trending topics.

He immediately clicked on ‘Not My Ariel’ and began to scroll looking at the phone in disbelief at what people were saying about you.

“Why? Why are people so mean?” It almost came out as a whisper and Jack’s heart was breaking seeing you so upset.

“Because they have nothing else better to do. This doesn’t change anything, babe. I know you’re upset with good reason but the movie is finished and I know from the trailer that you did a damn good job and no one else they would’ve picked would’ve come close. Fuck them.”

“I worked my ass off for this.”

“I know and they can never take away how incredibly talented you are because everyone sees it. You’re amazing at what you do and people being racist fucks are never going to change that. And since when are mermaids based on real people? They could’ve made you blue and people would still find a reason to be upset and I would have still watched that shit.”

“Baby, this isn’t Avatar.”

“You get what I mean!”

“I do and I.. thank you for always being there for me when I need it.” You said while smiling up at him. 

“And you know that’s never going to change. I just…. It’s easier said than done but do not let them win. You’re letting them win by you allowing them to get you upset and that’s the last thing that we want or need. You’re amazing in your own right and no trending topic on Twitter is going to tell me otherwise. My baby is the shit and she’s everyone’s Ariel and I’ll kick anyone’s ass who disagrees with me.”

“I just… want everyone to love my performance in this just as much as I do.”

“And they will and I’m going to need for you to stop worrying what people think about you all the time. If you know that you did your best that is literally the only thing that matters. Haters are always going to be there, but while you’re over here making millions, what is their ass doing but sitting at home and hating from a social media app?”

“That’s true.” You said while nodding your head and agreeing with him.

“For now, I’m keeping your phone because the last thing I want is for you to be scrolling looking at unnecessary outta pocket shit that people are saying.”

“But what if….”

“No, if it’s something important I’ll give it back to you, but other than that no. We’re ordering food and having a movie night and no social media.” Jack was soothingly rubbing your back as you tried to scoot yourself closer to him if that was even possible.

“I want chinese and what are we watching?”

“The Little Mermaid of course and anything my baby wants, she gets.”

“Fine, but I’m singing the entire time.” You said while finally smiling up at him.

“Oh, so I get early access?”

“You always get early access, just don’t tell anyone because they might get jealous.” You answered while leaning over to kiss him and pinching his cheek.

—

It was now premiere night and you were extremely nervous and kept fiddling with your dress trying to smooth away any imaginary wrinkles that might be there.

Jack noticed and quickly went up to you and grabbed both of your hands to get you to stop.

“It’s going to be fine, baby. Remember what I told you.”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up at any minute.” You said while feeling extremely overwhelmed and your eyes were starting to brim with tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Breathe for me and relax. I’m right here and I will be here with you the entire time. I’m not leaving your side for the entire night.”

“Promise? I… I….”

“Shhh…. I promise, baby. You got this. Now everyone is about to see why you were the perfect person for this role and no one else. Take some deep breaths for me.”

You did as you were told as you heard Jack taking deep breaths with you and you could feel that your heart rate was now finally starting to slow down. You focused on your breathing and holding Jack’s hands to help ground you as he massaged small circles on yours.

This was something that he always did for you when you were nervous before an event.

Jack knew how your anxiety was and his priority was always making sure you were okay. 

“I love you, you know that right?” Jack asked you and you couldn’t help but to immediately smile at him.

“I love you too, more than I can put into words.”

“You feel any better?”

You simply nodded and smiled as you reached up to hug him and he quickly embraced you back and leaned down to give you several kisses. 

“I just… I know I say it all the time but I love you so much and the way you support me is just…”

“Oh no, babe Deidre is going to kill me if I make you cry because of how long it took for her to do your makeup. You can cry after! But you do the exact same thing for me. We’re always going to show up and support each other no matter what.”

“Always, nothing about that is going to change.”

“Now come on so I can sing all the songs and give a Grammy winning performance. Been waiting months for this!” Jack said and you immediately laughed as he took your hand and the two of you began to make your way downstairs in order to head to the theater where the premiere was being held. 

As promised, Jack didn’t leave your side for the entire night and would give your hand occasional squeezes to let you know he was there for whatever you needed him for. 

“Now it’s time for people to see why you’re forever going to be my Ariel.” Jack whispered to you once the two of you were finally settled in your seats and the movie was getting ready to play. 

Jack held your hand the entire time just like he promised and would periodically look over at you and smile

He was amazed at how well you did, but not surprised

He knew that you had it in you from the very beginning

When the credits of the movie started rolling, you were startled by everyone erupting in applause and giving you a standing ovation as you made your way up to the stage to say a few words. 

You couldn’t help but to cry looking out at the crowd and seeing how so many people were supportive of you and that they love it just as much as you did.

When the applause finally died down, you were doing your best to hide your tears before you spoke.

“I… I knew I was going to cry but damn. Just… thank you.” You said and heard laughter while you finally wiped away the rest of your tears.

“Words cannot even form a sentence of how grateful I was for this opportunity and so many amazing people had a hand in making that happen. I’m so happy that Disney trusted me along with everyone involved in the cast and crew to make Ariel come to life and I just want everyone to love this film as much as I loved making it. Never let anyone deter you from making your dreams become a reality. I remember being little and seeing the original film for the first time and now look, twenty something years later and I get to bring her to life on the big screen. I’m not just Ariel for some people and not others, and my boyfriend had to tell me that. I am everyone’s Ariel and I am so damn proud of stepping out of my comfort zone and letting little girls who look like me know that they can do this too.” 

Liked by jackharlow, neelamthadhani, lolabroke, latto777, dojacat, champagnepapi, urbanwyatt, theshaderoom, and 6,870,921 others

yourinstagramname: always thankful that you get to be a part of my world and me in yours 💕

jackharlow: forever and always. so proud of you. you did amazing just like I knew you would.

yungmiami305: bitch you made me cry when I watched it even if I knew what was going to happen lol

neelamthadhani: job well done! I knew they picked the perfect person for this role!

maggieharlow: you were a literal dream the entire time. you didn't just play Ariel. YOU ARE ARIEL.

urbanwyatt: I see Jack is dressed like the ocean and ready to dive in yourinstagramname 😏

yourinstagramname: urbanwyatt you are always so outta pocket, I CANNOT but yes. I agree lol

yourinstagramename: thank you so much everyone, you have no idea how much this means to me

See all 201,829 comments

Liked by yourinstagramname, urbanwyatt, claybornharlow, dualipa, icespice, lildurk, teyanataylor, and 4,823,031 others

jackharlow: Forever My Ariel 💕

yourinstagramname: jackharlow loveee you now how many times have you watched the movie? lmao

urbanwyatt: yourinstagramname this might be number six

jackharlow: not the both of you shaming me. my baby did amazing 🥰

urbanwyatt: and keeps asking me to refill the snacks so he can continue

neelamthadhani: urbanwyatt I'm joining so bring me some popcorn too

urbanwyatt: neelamthadhani imma start charging yall asses for this. I am making one more trip and that's it!

druski2funny: why didn't anyone invite me to the party?

yourinstagramname: druski2funny because you don't like to answer your phone

druski2funny: yourinstagramname but I'm here now!

jackharlow: druski2funny your ass is about to be late to your own funeral

See all 110,927 comments

Liked by jackharlow, claybornharlow, yoursistersinstagramname, theshaderoom, latto777, lolabrooke, neelamthadhani, and 4,126,720 others

yourinstagramname: this is what a mermaid named Ariel looks like 😘

jackharlow: you got damn right and I don't wanna hear any negative shit! my baby did that!

lolabrooke: don't play wit her, don't play wit her

yoursistersinstagramname: my little mermaid 😍

yournamesource: forever our Ariel!!

yourbestfriend: she did what needed to be done and left no muthafuckin crumbs!

yournamesource: I need a sequel and idc what that shit is about. we just need to see you on the big screen more.

yourinstagramname: yournamesource something is getting revealed soon lol stay tuned

See all 461,780 comments

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[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER SEVEN: LAMB

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, implied child abuse, self harm

This is chronologically the seventh chapter in the series

---

The kitchen is a quiet chaos— Hannibal standing over the hob, his beautiful hands precise at their work, Will slouched, sulking prettily against a countertop, looking into the bottom of a wine glass.

His temper billows about the room. It's a wonder anyone can breathe through such smoke.

You hover at an anxious distance, afflicted by delectable smells and the scar of what you’ve done. Shame beats, eviscerated, under the boards of you; you chose to taunt and then to touch Will Graham, a conscious participant in this play of a poisonous home.

If your hosts were to give you but a minute apart from them you’d chastise yourself for your abasement: three stiff, sweat-inducing planks, a lap of your room, a prison yard exhaustion.

But they keep you under their eye, knowing, like a child, you’d surely run to burn your hand on the stove.

“How do you want me to be around him?” you ask, as Hannibal tastes a truffle sauce with a look of indecision. “Your Agent Crawford. He doesn’t know about us, does he?”

“As I have assured you, it is between you, Will, and I,” Dr Lecter answers. “Therefore, as far as any visitor is concerned, you remain my patient. That is all.”

How easily you are expected to step from one evanescent role to the other. Should your tongue slip, you may damn him and Will both, yet you know Hannibal is without fear as surely as though you had your fingers to his wrist, timing the pulse of his slow calm.

“And what am I to Will today?” you ask.

“A ward, of sorts, for now.”

The word conjures images of chill cells, bed pans, wilful neglect. Something Victorian in its sensibilities.

“A ward,” you repeat. “Right.”

In the peripheries of vision Will sets down his glass with an icy clink.

“Are you intending to be civilised at dinner," he asks, "or do we have to prepare for another devolution into infantile behaviour?”

You’d expected Will to be smug, glutted from his fill, but your mouth upon him has only calcified his antagonism into some crueller compound, still. He does not like that he has taken pleasure from you, is in denial of it, a steadfast separation.

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” you say. “I never know what’s going to happen. Usually I’m... not myself.”

Will folds his arms in an impassable cross.

“You’re not being medicated tonight. Your actions will be your responsibility.”

The prospect of sobriety has little power to cheer. You’d rather the drooling oblivion of a dose over the chess match of having to divine the correct answer and micro-expression to every aside.

Intuiting your distress, Hannibal says, “You'll be eating from a slightly different menu to the rest of the table. Light portions, with attention to your safe foods.”

In disbelief, you take stock of the simmering pans, their contents once the meat of your routine.

“My... my safe foods,” you repeat. “But I didn’t even tell you what they were.”

What should comfort holds the sinister weight of interred dead, so familiar as to be uncanny.

“I have observed your preferences,” says Dr Lecter. “Thus, I am able to accommodate.”

He offers you a spoon to taste, which you decline.

“You’re making it easier for me to stick to my old ways,” you point out. “That doesn’t seem right. What’s going on?”

“I’m allowing you space to devote your energy to an unexpected social situation. I know they are not your strong suit, and I wish you to be relaxed. It will benefit us all.”

There is no pretence here of pure intentions; you acknowledge the respect that has been awarded to you in the absence of a lie.

“Thank you,” you say. “Could you do this... more, please?”

“If you continue to fulfil your role satisfactorily, yes.”

Hannibal glances at Will, whose breath of harsh laughter pars the conversation like a shank, short and sharp.

“You remain against her, then.”

“I don’t see that she has any genuine interest in evolving,” says Will, as though you are not there. “Just a cuckoo in an empty nest.”

The phrasing catches like a coat on brambled hedgerow. Alert, you examine your younger captor, interpreting the set of his harsh look.

“What are you to each other, really?” you ask.

“Friends,” says Will, bluntly.

The speed with which he speaks betrays a not-quite lie, a sentence with a postluding clause.

“We are aesthetes of an uncommon kind,” Dr Lecter interjects, over a pearl string of steam. “It adds dimension to our relationship few will ever perceive. In time, I expect you will.”

The kitchen, though of minimal colour—greys, black, pure, clinical white—develops a peculiar warmth. There is invitation, here, open-armed acceptance into domesticity, and whatever midnight cabal weds these two men in their brotherhood.

“I don’t think you want me,” you say, as Hannibal rinses cutlery at the sink. “I’m not interesting. I don’t talk like you. I don’t really understand art, or books, or poetry. I’m not even smart.”

Will’s head turns, the sly incline an eel from a cave mouth.

“Hannibal tells me you were academic, once. What happened?”

Seldom do you care to recollect your school days, which were lived painfully, as a mute ghost at the back of the class.

Attempts to decipher screens and pages through tears that had fallen without sound, and were, thus, philosophically inexistent. Whispers passed down through seated rows. Meetings with teachers and welfare staff on seats of poster blue plastic, your foot shaken against scuffed tiles in soothing motion.

The books and television series you’d once absorbed with eager voracity were parched of their appeal, by then. Your only reading was the secretive message boards into which you’d recessed like a forest to band with others of your starving ilk.

Such memories, and others arise to you. Your grades you can less easily recall.

“I’m only good at one thing anymore,” you say, aloud. “And I’m not allowed to do it here.”

Hannibal begins stacking washed dishes back into the cupboard, undeterred by your ceaseless denial.

“We will not chastise you for your simplicity. The palate can be developed, after all.”

“And not just for the food,” says Will. “Though that would be a start.”

“What if I embarrass you in front of Jack?” you ask; you’re losing this argument, and continue it only to prolong your defeat.

“Jack isn’t easily embarrassed,” says Dr Lecter. “Besides, he has been adequately prepared. You may rest in your room before dinner, little one. Sleep can do wonders for the appetite.”

He walks you to the kitchen door with a subtle insistence— like Will, he yearns to be alone.

Mumbling thanks that border on sincere, you make your egress via the stairs, glad to leave the kitchen and its tiers of expectation in your wake.

Passing Hannibal’s room, you find the door stood ajar. Curiosity draws you in, then, not to the bed—a symbol of tragedy—but to the conjoined bathroom, it, too, unlocked.

It is larger than your own, though similarly tiled in ivory and obsidian; there is a bathtub elevated on ornate feet, a shower walled in opaque glass, a sink with toothbrush and paste arranged like trophies, each surface of a bleached, crystalline sheen.

On the floor lies a set of scales, an oblong of clearest glass.

You had known that he would have one in the house, a man so fastidious in hygiene and health. Standing flat against one wall, you tilt your head, listening for an approach on the stairs, a change in the direction of the voices beneath.

When you are convinced of your privacy you strip of every garment and stand upon the scales, your hands braced at your sides in anticipation.

Even before the numbers flash on the mite screen you know that you’ve gained weight, have felt the itching progress of it across your hips and stomach.

The figure, as you glance down, is far higher than anticipated. Were it not imperative to be silent, you would scream.

You settle to hit yourself, instead, closed-fisted blows into your temple, left to right; only your reflection in the bathroom mirror stays your hand, a corpulent rendering of flesh.

This image has always shifted, for you, between your mental interpretation and its reality. Now they are one and the same, and you will never forgive your kidnappers for having altered your sight, as well.

Whose eyes have they given you, to make out this monster? One each of their own— you close the lids, and see the red of meat in the darkness behind them.

Later, when you return, dressed and sleep-dulled, to wait for dinner, you practice such restraint over your emotion that the effect is a noiseless hysteria. Catching sight of your face in any polished surface reveals a sickly visage, eyes bright and excitable, the skin dull, as of the grave.

Will regards you with a default scepticism, venturing no word. Hannibal, instantly perceptive, takes hold of your face in his cool hands and looks into your eyes.

“Is there something the matter?” he asks, and there is glass under the suede of his soft voice, a cutting menace.

There is a rap upon the door, and Dr Lecter steps free of you to answer. He returns shortly, followed by a man you recognise from the news, broad shouldered in a casual suit. His hair is closely cut, a trimmed goatee on a face that would have been handsome, in youth, and is presently so, though worn between the brows from the stress of his work.

“Good to see you, Will,” says Jack, shaking the younger man’s hand and pulling him into a half embrace. “You look well. Been taking care of yourself, I hope.”

Will smiles. His face is briefly pleasant, the dour mouth creasing at the corners.

“As well as I can,” he says. “The dogs keep me active.”

“Nice to hear you’re still running with the pack,” Jack replies. “How are the little rascals?”

You wait for the smalltalk to end, filing away what information sifts through that may be of note.

At last Jack turns to you, taking your hand lightly in his.

“So I finally get to meet you. Hannibal’s told me all about you, you know.”

A falsified minimum, you think.

Aloud, you ask, “He has?”

“Just enough,” says Dr Lecter. “Now, I must be temporarily rude and make myself scarce; I have unfinished work awaiting me in the kitchen.”

Jack releases your hand.

“Point taken,” he says. “Let's move this conversation to the dinner table, shall we?”

To your relief, once all are seated Jack manoeuvres the subject tactfully away to other things. The men speak of the weather—"I don’t care what anybody says; we don’t need that much rain this side of the Great Flood"—Jack’s wife—who is mortally ill, and immeasurably loved—and of mutual friends, whose names and various details you struggle to map in your ignorance of their world.

You eat with little attention to what crosses your lips; the day, in that aspect, is spoiled, and you cast it from you like a fruit’s rotten core.

Though Jack and Hannibal both attempt to include you in the chatter at points, you do not care to. There is the feeling of being presented to Jack like a shrewdly bargained for article of rare furniture; any comment from you is performance for these men to digest and enjoy, as they do all at this table.

It is Dr Lecter, however, that successfully extracts your opinion on a topic of his choosing. With an ingenuity that renders the shift in topic almost organic, he addresses his colleagues on the matter of their latest case.

“Surely our man will be on the move again,” he says, lifting a shred of lamb to his lips. “He may already be grooming his next subject.”

“He is,” says Will, flatly. “I’ve spent enough time thinking like him to know his heartbreak over losing the last one won’t last long.”

Jack raises his eyebrows, turning from one man to the other with a look that suggests he is almost as nonplussed by their union as you are.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to discuss this in front of your patient, Dr Lecter? The details of this case are particularly disturbing, as you already know. Will showed you photographs from the crime scene.”

“Indeed he did,” says Hannibal. “I will not easily forget it. However, as long as my guest resides under my roof I believe it’s only fair that she is involved in general discussion. Confidential matters of the case will, of course, be between us. But anything that is public knowledge I believe she has the right to know.”

“Fodder for Tattle Crime, you mean,” Will interjects, stabbing at his meal with spiteful vigour. “Freddie Lounds has covered these particular murders with a lurid relish. You’re aware that she’s already named the killer?"

Jack chuckles.

“'The Silicone Lover,'” he says. “It certainly lacks poetry in comparison to some of the others that are being thrown around, but it’s got that Lounds touch. It’s catchy, I’ll give her that.”

You drop your fork upon your plate with a jarring clash of steel and porcelain. Hannibal’s face stills in subtle displeasure, and you make a cringing gesture of apology, your mouth puckered at one corner.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” you say, “but... I remember reading about that case. I’ve always been kind of interested in true crime. I don’t know why. Books, documentaries, all that stuff; I’ve seen them all. But this killer— he’s in my city. Everybody’s been talking about it.”

It’s the most conversation you’ve volunteered all evening, and you sense the interest of your fellow guests open to you like a late bloom.

“I hope you’ve been taking precautions, young lady,” says Jack, bringing his knife to a pat of oozing meat until his plate is a bloody eclipse. “You’re aware you fit the profile of his victims.”

You stutter out an uncomfortable laugh.

“I... I don’t go out much. So I’ve been okay.”

Even before your captivity you’d been a recluse, dissuaded from venturing outdoors by an aversion to being perceived. Short, rushed jaunts to the store had been the sum of your travels, and it occurs to you now that you should have savoured the world beyond the house: the grumbling traffic, the turned dirt scent of rain, all of it, everything. The beautiful mundane.

“Staying indoors won’t keep the Silicone Lover from making you his paramour,” says Will, shortly, one arm flung in a mode of disdain across the back of his chair. “His targets always let him into their homes willingly, and there are no defensive wounds, suggesting he makes himself known to his victims some time before he abducts them. He always gets close enough to either drug or hit them over the head without suspicion.”

“I know,” you say. “I’ve read Tattle Crime, too.”

Will sneers.

“Of course you have. She’s a provocateur. Just your type.”

“Tell us what you know of this case, then,” Hannibal says to you, smoothly diffusing the tension. “Perhaps we will benefit from a fresh perspective, especially from an individual so closely fitting the profile of those unfortunate victims.”

He looks at Agent Crawford, seeking an unspoken permission.

“Go ahead,” says Jack. “As long as you feel up to it, that is.”

His voice softens as he speaks to you, and you think of his wife, folding slowly into the ravening void of cancer. This is a man who understands illness, and has a sensitivity for it; it comforts you, to have him here, obscured though his view of his friends.

Offering Jack a shy smile, you say, “I’ll be alright. It’s just that I don’t want to put anyone off their food.”

There is laughter around the table; even Will smirks, though the expression falls as he catches you looking. You wonder again at his distaste for you, surmising with a coolly adult rationality that he is jealous of you having come between him and his mentor.

“Well?” says Will, with the rudeness of a spoiled prince. “What’s the Lover’s modus operandi?”

You catch Jack’s dark eyes squinting a fraction, and though he says nothing you rally at the knowledge that he has not entirely succumbed to Will and Hannibal’s spell.

“The dead girls are always found in rivers around the city,” you say, “sealed inside hollowed out rubber dolls. You know the kind I mean. The killer cuts open the dolls and mutilates the women to fit them inside, then seals them back up again. Keeps them in there till they suffocate, or starve to death.

Some of the women die within hours, others a few days. They must be so scared, in so much pain. But obviously that’s what he wants. Every three months or so he does it all over again.”

“Meaning we don’t have long before he takes a seventh lover,” says Will. “Fortunately for you, staying here will protect you, to an extent. You’re too far out of the killer’s hunting range for him to take an interest.”

“Can’t keep the princess locked up in her tower forever,” says Jack, cleaning his hands on a napkin. “We'd better hurry up and catch him. Now, if you’ll all excuse me—”

He rises from his seat; a bathroom visit, you realise, and an opening to speak to him alone.

Thinking quickly, you reach for your water glass and dash it across your lap. Your hand is shaking enough for the accident to seem convincing.

Both remaining men glance up from the table, startled. Will all but rolls his eyes.

“Sorry,” you say, in a grovelling squeak. “I’ll go and change, if that’s alright.”

Dr Lecter, as always, is crisply polite.

“You may go. But hurry. Our guest will expect you to return.”

For once, Will makes no comment, only returns to his food with the reverence of accepting the wafer at communion.

You pad along the corridor towards the downstairs bathroom, waiting for Jack to emerge. From what you know of Hannibal’s close relationship with the police you cannot rest your hopes of escape entirely on Agent Crawford, but you have seen the occasional teeter of trust, the unspoken perplexity with which he regards the dynamics of the household.

You may yet sway his sympathies, if you are careful. Still, you are so certain of failure that you tremble with mirth, like a drunk.

Jack steps out of the bathroom, stopping short as he notices you wincing in the shadows.

“Hey, there. Are you alright? You look a little green around the gills.”

“Agent Crawford,” you say, in a half-whisper. “I was wondering if you could help me. You know Will and Hannibal pretty well, right?”

“It’s Jack when I’m not working. And, uh, reasonably so, I’d say. Is something wrong?”

You pause, labouring over your response. To imply your wardens are the enemy will surely strike Jack as too outlandish, the mumblings of the mad.

“This treatment isn’t right for me,” you say, rather weakly. “It’s too much, and I don’t think they’re really listening to me. I miss my parents, my own room. I’m suffocating here. I was wondering if you could talk to Will and Dr Lecter. Encourage them to let me go home.”

Jack’s dark eyes soften, and he stoops slightly over you, as he might in order to speak to a small child.

“Dr Lecter told me you might ask me that. The road you’re on is a tough one, young lady, but you’ve got to stick it out. Not just for yourself, but for everybody who cares about you. Besides, I’m pretty damn sure Will and Hannibal would be disappointed to see you go home so soon.”

You turn your head into your shoulder, your neck caught in a miserable spasm.

“Will doesn’t like me at all.”

“That’s just the way he is. Prickly with just about everyone he encounters. Imagine the strain on me, having to keep him in line.”

You do laugh, then, and Jack flashes you a gap-toothed grin.

“He’ll warm up to you. Though to be honest, I don’t know why Hannibal’s getting Will involved in all this when he already has enough on his plate. Between work and those episodes of his, I don’t know if he ought to take on too many other responsibilities. But I guess Dr Lecter knows what he’s doing.”

Episodes?

You’d noticed Will’s fits of illness, a certain fragility; to hear it confirmed is a gold coin in your hand to spend in the future to come.

“I’m going to head back to the table,” says Jack. “Let’s give all this a little more time. If it doesn’t work over the next couple of months I might put a word in for you, suggest therapy sessions over inpatient treatment. But I can’t push it, kid. You’re not my patient. I can’t overstep the line, here. But I’m on your side. You keep up what you’re doing, alright?”

He leaves you there, knuckling tears from your eyes. Regretting that you hadn’t spoken the truth, in all its risk.

*

You go to your room, meaning only to dress. In the end you cannot resist returning to Hannibal’s scales on the way back, called by a manic self-flagellating urge to know much further weight you’ve gained from the meal.

You are not free, will never be free, are worth nothing but numbers. They've become all you are.

It’s as you’re stepping, naked, stupid with despair onto the scale that you hear a voice behind you.

“You must learn to restrain these impulses, little one.”

You turn so sharply that something strains in your neck again. Your hands strive to cover your nakedness. A futility, considering what he has seen, that he has fucked you.

“I assume that you have also spoken to Jack Crawford,” says Hannibal. “Pleading your case to be released. How naughty you have been.”

How handsome he looks, almost young, in the tasteful bathroom light. There is something like death in his sudden beauty, a void coldness.

Terror, a stake of ice from throat to cunt.

He means to kill you, if not now, then soon.

You know of only one way he might forgive so many missteps. Another course: you eat your pride.

“I didn’t mean to, Daddy,” you say. “Please don’t tell Will.”

You lower your arms, forging a sword of your vulnerability. Hannibal glances down only once, and with more amusement, then, than thirst.

“He will never know,” he says. “If you come to my room tonight. There is a lesson you must learn. It cannot wait.”

*

There is a tension about the residence of waiting, after Will and Jack have gone, the dry-mouthed breath before the silver lipped drop of the guillotine.

There is motion about the house, yet you feel rather than hear it; Hannibal has a way of carrying his physicality that seems to possess no weight at all. Ghoulish, his haunting of the rooms below as you sit on his bed, to await him.

You arrange yourself on the dark sheets in sacrificial mode, so ill with fear that it seems all your organs are in torsion, a helix of flesh from chest to womb.

It strikes you that you’d lain so, once, a night your father's friend, Leland Frost, had stumbled the many stairs to your room, beer the umber of his breath as he’d kissed you goodnight.

You had let him touch you, then, as you will let the devil touch you, now. As a child, as an adult, you are absolved: animals must eat, and their prey bear no fault when the hand of God steers them in the direction of hunger.

Hannibal ascends the stairs, each footfall making you jump. Stiff-backed, you turn to a sleek alarm clock on the bedside table, vowing to fix your eyes to its sympathetic face until the hour is done.

A name—yours—blackens your ear, a knell of things more wicked than death.

“Little one,” says Hannibal. “I will not hurt you. This lesson involves no corporal punishment.”

You sit up slightly, slippery in grey silk pyjamas, of whose cost you dare not think.

“Not the lights,” you say, hastily. “Or that metronome thing. I hated it.”

Dr Lecter removes his jacket, socks, and shoes, the quiet process of putting them away a careful rite, his prayer unspoken.

“To begin with,” he says, “I’d like to ask you some questions about your personal habits.”

He speaks delicately, but with an undertone of velvet sensuality that delivers you into fear you cannot resist.

“How often do you pleasure yourself, little one?”

“I don't,” you say.

The words form with such stumbling velocity that you cringe at your own lie.

Hannibal looks down at you with a sort of sorrow.

“If that is your response, then I must teach you.”

“No! I mean, don’t. I’m sorry. I do... do that. But it’s embarrassing to talk about it. I don’t want to.”

“I’m afraid you must. To be a fully-fledged adult it is important to embrace all facets of yourself, including sexuality. So, please address my question.”

Hannibal steps towards the bed, not with threat, but to pursue the lost treasure of your secret.

“Twice a week, maybe,” you admit. “At night.”

“How do you masturbate?”

You’d never expected the world from Dr Lecter. He speaks it factually, without humour, priestly severe.

“With my hands,” you say. “My fingers.”

You’d been too embarrassed to order toys to the house, which still you share with your family, the humiliation of an accidentally opened box an unimaginable discomfort.

“What do you think about as you climax, little one?” asks Hannibal, a question worse still than those before it in the nature of your answer.

You’d watch videos, often violent, peruse literature online which you hastily erased from your history, afterwards. It almost seems you beckoned in this abuse, through your interests, aroused only by cruelty, and the dark.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Different things. Nothing specific.”

Hannibal takes another step towards the bed.

“Answer again.”

Tears char your vision into soot.

“I hate you,” you say, fiercely. “More than I hate Will.”

“Because I cannot be moved in my resolve, as he can,” says Hannibal. “Will is suggestible, to an extent, whereas I am sure in my standing. It sears your ego to obey a man so entirely.”

He pads, barefoot, in a half circle around the bed, a panther uncaged.

“So,” says Dr Lecter. “Speak. What do you think of when you touch yourself?”

You open your mouth, and find yourself mute, truly incapable of speech.

Hannibal seems to understand this, however, for he does not insist again.

“Undress for me. I would like to see you demonstrate.”

Your head swings in a rattling ‘no’.

“Very well. I will attempt it.”

Again you shake your head, and in cumbersome, unlovely motions you struggle out of the pyjamas, ashamed of how clumsy you appear before him.

Naked, you sit up on your knees, covering yourself with your arms as best you can.

“Legs apart, please,” says Hannibal. “Then do as you normally would. I will merely watch.”

He reclines in one of the chairs in the room, his eyes like foreign seas, reflecting the night.

Scalded with humiliation, you bring your fingertips between your thighs and stroke in looping circles. The skin there is parched, unresponsive, unyielding; to be watched in such intimacy takes the pleasure from the act, which has always been in realms of secret sin.

“I can’t do it, Hannibal,” you say. “Nothing’s happening. I don’t feel good.”

It is the only time you’ve used his first name to his face, a trespass into familiarity you do not share.

“Is it because you don’t have access to the usual stimulating material?” he asks, ignoring your blunder.

You snap your knees shut upon your hands.

“I don’t use any.”

Hannibal takes your calves in his hands, a grip which might break.

“I know that you do. When I accepted you as my patient I made a point to visit your house, when no one was home. Your room was as I expected it to be. Juvenile, and stale aired from many days spent there alone. Your laptop was open. It wasn’t difficult to breach. Your password was the title of a book on your shelf.”

Wintergirls. Laurie Halse Anderson had been a staple of your literary youth, and it had never occurred to you that anyone might guess it.

“You didn’t clear your history as thoroughly as you believed,” says Hannibal. “I was intrigued by what I found there.”

You do not resist as he opens your legs, so limp are you in your horror.

“I— what you saw— it doesn’t mean I want this. It’s not the same.”

Hannibal blinks slowly.

“No. I would be uninterested if it was.”

He sits upright again, folding his hands in his lap. How pure they look, a harpsichordist’s tools, an illustrator’s. Evil, beautiful things.

“Begin again,” says Hannibal. “Think of Will and I. What we have done to you. Our touch. Our words. The imposition of power. The ineludible fact of your belonging to us.”

Femoral heat. Your core rings crimson bronze, and your fingers follow its kulning. You want to stop, but Hannibal’s voice alone is a hypnosis, effective even without the ticking and the lights.

“Imagine Will’s hand across your cheek. Around your throat. Envision my own.”

You make some noise, not quite a moan.

Dr Lecter lowers himself down until his breath mists your cunt, and the sensation has you writhing beneath it, maddened by the ephemeral touch of air, and needing it to finish.

He looks up, and his eyes are a reveller’s, a satyr of ancient land.

“How sweet you must taste. I have prepared your meals specifically to assure that you do.”

Your hand cycles in motion, compelled by his mystical art.

Hannibal remains over you, too close, at too great a distance.

“Stop,” he says. “That is enough.”

You are so close that the command is more craven in its dealings than Will’s palm across your face.

Your breaths are the sunken heat of a pagan sun. You burn and burn.

“Why should I give you what is so unwanted?” asks Hannibal, and pauses, as though you might beg.

Speech is inconceivable to your mind, as it is now, a concept like the colour of dying. You only sit with the head of a God between your legs, forced to such a brink that your weakness rides through you like a drug.

Eyes of night pleasure, of deathly ritual—

He laps your cunt for scarcely half a minute before you career over your edge, stacked orgasms that render you sightless with their power. You arc from the bed like an antler, a horn cry blown through your soul.

The pleasure is a stellar whiteness. You writhe up towards his tongue like a wave.

“Poor girl,” says Hannibal, as you lie piteously beneath him. “You can do nothing without me. Even this.”

[buckysbabygorl]

Deal (Bucky Barnes Fic)

Blunt Part 4

(Blunt Part 4, trust me the smut is VERY much on its way)

Part 3

Summary: Y/N finally shows, and Bucky feels more than rewarded for his patience

Being a soldier, you have to be sure.

You have to know your enemy, your team, you have to have the right skills and the right temperament for the job.

Is your aim dead on, do you know your location, did you check your six… every damn time you have to be one hundred percent sure.

Bucky knew right then, whiskey in hand with Tony at his side—he was damn sure that red was her fucking color.

That suit hugged her in all the right ways, hair down, heels high… and her eyes, staring right at him.

Bucky gulped.

“There’s my boys.” She called as she sauntered over.

“Do my eyes deceive me,” Tony purred, “or has Y/N L/N come out to play?”

“Oh I’ve come for much more than that.”

She perched herself on the barstool beside him, crossing one leg over the other. A signature of hers, Bucky had come to notice.

“I need a whiskey, and I need this god awful music changed.”

Tony waved to the bartender, tapping his glass for a refill. Holding up two fingers, signaling for another.

Looking at Barnes in his shell shock, Tony signaled for 3.

“My, my. Awfully bossy now that you’re off the clock.” Tony said.

She rolled her eyes, “I never pegged you to be against role reversal.”

“Role play I’m all for. I’ll let you play the captain tonight if it’ll get you to come out more. Speaking of…”

He smacked Barnes on the back to wake him the hell up.

“Bucky here is playing the role of depressed loner tonight, which is really riveting for all of us.”

She chuckled, and Bucky reminded himself to kick the shit out of Tony during training tomorrow.

Her eyes landed on him again, and she smiled.

“No ‘hi’ for me?” She purred.

Dear god, what was happening?

“You finished work?” He choked.

The bartender delivered their ryes, and Y/N swiftly raised the glass to her lips.

“Honestly?” She asked.

Bucky nodded.

She smiled, “No.”

Both men went wide eyed. She had to be joking.

“Are you shitting me?” Tony asked.

She laughed, “Don’t look so surprised. You begged me to come.”

“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you’d have the willpower to put down your damn tablet.”

Watching as she downed her glass, Bucky couldn’t muster a word. Who was this woman in front of him?

“Well… I thought about what you said. I never show, but I’m always good with the final details. I can’t control the outcome by rushing through the project. Handing something in a week before the deadline isn’t going to resolve things faster. Besides…”

She tapped her fingers on the top of the glass, and the bartender moved to make her another drink.

“I have more pressing matters here.”

Bucky couldn’t stop searching her eyes. Sam labelled her right a month back, Little Miss Wild Card.

“Like what?” Bucky asked.

Something in her eye turned. That glimpse of darkness he’d only seen when he took her glasses, standing inches apart from one another. His head was spinning.

“Well for starters, drinking Wilson under the table. Where is he?”

As if on cue, Sam came up behind her with a beer in hand.

“You wish.”

He slung an arm over her shoulder, and Bucky felt his stomach turn.

“I told you if you came, we were going hard. I’m keeping my eye on you to make you keep your promise.”

She grabbed her fresh drink and swiveled in her seat.

“I always keep my promises, you know that.”

Sam rambled on, and Bucky finished the drink given by Tony.

It’s not like it would do much, but he wouldn’t let booze go to waste.

Bucky realized too late how harsh the drink was. That was not whiskey. He looked up across the bar, seeing Thor at the other ended.

Thor raised his flask, pointing back at the soldier.

Hm, nice to know the God was looking out for him.

“Hey. Eyes on me, Sergeant.”

Bucky turned, Y/N looked at him pointedly.

He’d never get used to that. This different look she had about her, intense and daring.

She grinned cheekily, leaning in close.

Sam and Tony had begun their own challenge of drinking, yammering on about the happenings of the last party…

Somehow for a moment in this crowded room, he had her all to himself.

“What’s this I hear about you being a loner?”

Bucky pursed his lips, debating if honesty was his best policy. She’d blown off work to be here and gone so far as to admit it. He should return the favor.

“Honestly,” he rested himself against her shoulder, “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

Her gaze didn’t falter as she hummed, “Like I said to Wilson, I always keep my promises.”

“You didn’t.”

That phased her, tilting her head as Bucky twirled his glass.

“You told me you’d come when you got everything done, yet you wrote it off to be here.”

He ducked his lips to her ear, something he dare not try since his strong attempts a month ago. The liquor was giving him his confidence back.

“What are your pressing matters here, Y/N?”

She shocked him by turning her chin towards his, lips now a fraction of a distance apart.

She lingered, and he reveled in her proximity. What he would give to sit like this with her the whole night…

“I’m not one for subtlety. And with your actions this past month, I can tell neither are you.”

He was entranced by her voice, hypnotized at its sultry slowness. His heart pounded as he tried to read her, subtle-avoidant though she said, he hadn’t been able to pull much from her before tonight. A compliment, her riding declaration and her proposition of praise had been divine deliverances in themselves. But he worried that she was playing him, getting him back for his blunt flirtations.

No. She wouldn’t do that, she was honest. Though she was harsh and sharp, she wasn’t cruel.

Still… he feared he would lose out on something he never really had.

Bucky looked down as her hand reached for his thigh, and he tried to stifle a groan.

“I remember everything you’ve said to me, James. The praises of my character, my beauty, that you like a woman that takes charge, that you want to add me to your work out routine…”

She slid her hand up his thigh, his breath grew shaky.

“I thought it was just harmless flirting. I couldn’t tell what you really wanted.”

She rose from her stool, slowly reaching for his belt.

“I couldn’t let you know that I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid my eyes on you.”

Now Bucky couldn’t breathe. He grew vastly aware just how many people were in the room. Sam and Tony only a few steps away, they could turn at any moment and see her wandering hands…

Jesus Christ, he wanted her now.

“But now I know. I came tonight for you, I don’t want to dance around it anymore James.”

And then she slid away.

It was like electrocution, his spine rippled and his skin was on fire. He almost rose out of his seat.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” She waved to the bartender, another round for the four of them. “You and I, are going to socialize, dance, tell stories, drink…”

She slid their new glasses towards them.

“At midnight, I’ll say I have to wake up early and leave. You’ll leave shortly after, head to your room and you’ll find me there.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, hiding his lustful smirk.

Lifting her whiskey up, and urging him to do the same, she smiled.

“Then for the rest of the night, I’m yours.”

She clinked her glass against his, “We have a deal, Sergeant?”

He stopped himself from reaching out for her, instead mirroring her as she finished her glass.

“Deal.”

~

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[lucifersresources]

taylor swift // midnights rp meme. 

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!  

lavender haze. 

meet me at midnight. 

you don’t ever say too much. 

i’ve been under scrutiny. 

you handle it beautifully. 

all this shit is new to me. 

i’m damned if i do give a damn what people say. 

all they keep asking me is if i’m gonna be your bride. 

they’re bringing up my history. 

they’re bringing up my history, but you weren’t even listening. 

i just need this love spiral. 

maroon. 

we lost track of time again. 

you were my closest friend. 

how’d we end up on the floor anyway? 

i see you every day now. 

i chose you. 

we were shaking. 

how the hell did we lose sight of us again? 

ain’t that the way shit always ends. 

i feel you, no matter what. 

and i lost you. 

i wake with your memory over me. 

that’s a real fuckin’ legacy. 

anti-hero. 

i get older, but just never wiser. 

midnights become my afternoons. 

my depression works the graveyard shift. 

i should not be left to my own devices. 

i end up in crisis. 

i wake up screaming from dreaming. 

one day i’ll watch as you’re leaving.

one day i’ll watch as you’re leaving, coz you got tired of my scheming. 

it’s me, hi. i’m the problem, it’s me. 

i’m the problem. 

i’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror. 

it must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero. 

i’m a monster on the hill. 

did you hear my covert narcissism i disguise as altruism like some kind of congressman? 

life will lose all its meaning. 

she thinks i left them in the will. 

she’s laughing up at us from hell. 

snow on the beach. 

life is emotionally abusive. 

time can’t stop me quite like you did. 

i’m unglued, thanks to you. 

it’s like snow at the beach: weird, but fucking beautiful. 

you wanting me tonight, feels impossible. 

this scene feels like what i once saw on a screen. 

i’ve never seen someone lit from within. 

my smile is like i won a contest. 

to hide that would be so dishonest. 

it’s fine to fake it till you make it. 

i can’t speak. 

i don’t even dare to wish it. 

can this be a real thing? 

you’re on your own, kid. 

summer went away, still the yearning stays. 

i play it cool with the best of them. 

he’s gonna notice me. 

we’re the best of friends anyway. 

i hear it in your voice. 

i didn’t choose this town, i dream of getting out. 

there’s just one who could make me stay. 

i waited ages to see you there. 

you never cared. 

you’re on your own, kid. you always have been. 

you’re on your own, kid. 

i see the great escape. 

he loves me not. 

something different bloomed. 

i’ll run away. 

i gave my blood, sweat and tears for this. 

the jokes weren’t funny. 

i took the money. 

my friends from home don’t know what to say. 

there were pages turned with the bridges burned. 

everything you lose is a step you take. 

you’ve got no reason to be afraid. 

you can face this. 

midnight rain. 

he wanted it comfortable, i wanted that pain. 

he wanted a bride, i was making my own name. 

he stayed the same. 

all of me changed. 

my town was a wasteland. 

for some, it was paradise. 

i broke his heart coz he was nice. 

i was midnight rain. 

i guess sometimes we all get just what we wanted. 

he never thinks of me. 

i guess we all get some kind of haunted. 

i never think of him. 

i never think of him, except on midnights like this. 

question...? 

we had one thing going on, i swear that it was something. 

i don’t remember who i was before you. 

i just may like some explanations. 

can i ask you a question? 

did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room? 

what did you do?

did you ever leave her house in the middle of the night? 

did you wish you’d put up more of a fight? 

it was too much. 

do you wish you could still touch her? 

did you realise out of time? 

fuckin’ politics and gender roles. 

i just may like to have a conversation. 

does it feel like everything’s just like second best after that meteor strike? 

i’m sure that’s what’s suitable. 

vigilante shit. 

draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man. 

you did some bad things, but i’m the worst of them. 

sometimes i wonder which one will be your last lie. 

they say looks can kill and i might try. 

i don’t dress for women, i don’t dress for men, lately i’ve been dressing for revenge. 

i don’t start shit.

i don’t start shit, but i can tell you how it ends. 

don’t get sad, get even. 

i’ve been dressing for revenge. 

she needed cold hard proof, so i gave her some. 

picture me, thick as thieves with your ex-wife. 

she looks so pretty, driving in your benz. 

ladies always rise above. 

i’m on my vigilante shit again. 

bejeweled. 

i think i’ve been a little too kind. 

didn’t notice you walking all over my peace of mind. 

putting someone first only works when you’re in their top five. 

i’m going out tonight. 

best believe i’m still bejeweled when i walk in the room. 

i can still make the whole place shimmer. 

familiarity breeds comtempt. 

don’t put me in the basement when i want the penthouse of your heart. 

i polish up real nice. 

i think i’ve been too good of a girl. 

i think it’s time to teach some lessons. 

i made you my world. 

have you heard? i can reclaim the land. 

i miss you, but i miss sparkling. 

sadness became my whole sky. 

but some guy said my aura’s moonstone. 

you can try to change my mind, but you might have to wait in line. 

a diamond’s gotta shine. 

labyrinth. 

it only hurts this much right now. 

i’ll be getting over you my whole life. 

i’m falling in love.

i’m falling in love again. 

it only feels this raw right now. 

lost in the labyrinth of my mind. 

you would break your back to make me break a smile. 

you know how much i hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back. 

karma. 

you’re talking shit. 

addicted to betrayal. 

you’re terrified to look down. 

you’ll see the glare of everyone you burned. 

it’s coming back around. 

karma is my boyfriend. 

karma’s a relaxing thought. aren’t you envious that for you it’s not? 

my pennies made your crown. 

don’t you know that cash ain’t the only price? 

ask me what i learned from all those years. 

ask me what i earned from all those tears. 

ask me why so many fade, but i’m still here.

so many fade.

i’m still here. 

karma is the thunder rattling your ground. 

karma’s on your scent like a bounty hunter. 

sweet nothing. 

they said the end is coming.

the end is coming. 

everyone’s up to something. 

i find myself running home to your sweet nothings. 

all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing. 

this happens all the time. 

you should be doing more. 

to you i can admit that i’m just too soft for all of it. 

i’m just too soft for all of it. 

mastermind. 

the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned. 

the touch of a hand lit the fuse. 

checkmate, i couldn’t lose.

i couldn’t lose. 

what if i told you none of it was accidental. 

none of it was accidental. 

the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me. 

what if i told you i’m a mastermind? 

i’m a mastermind. 

now you’re mine. 

we were born to be the pawn in every lover’s game. 

if you fail to plan, you plan to fail. 

strategy sets the scene for the tale. 

the first night that you saw me, i knew i wanted your body.

i wanted your body. 

it was all my design. 

no one wanted to play with me as a little kid.

i’ve been scheming. 

i’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since.

i’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since to make them love me. 

this is the first time i’ve felt the need to confess. 

i’m only cryptic and machiavellian coz i care. 

you knew the entire time. 

you knew that i’m a mastermind. 

the great war. 

my knuckles were bruised like violets. 

cursed you as i sleep talked. 

spineless in my tomb of silence. 

tore your banners down, took the battle underground. 

flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur. 

my hand was the one you reach for all throughout the great war. 

i vowed not to cry anymore. 

if we survived the great war. 

you drew up some good faith treaties. 

you said i have to trust more freely. 

you were playing with fire. 

maybe it’s the past that’s talking. 

maybe it’s the past that’s talking-- telling me to punish you for things you never did. 

i justified it. 

i vowed not to fight anymore. 

i vowed not to fight anymore if we survived the great war. 

got a sense i’d been betrayed. 

that was the night i nearly lost you.

i nearly lost you. 

i really thought i’d lost you. 

we can plant a memory garden. 

there’s no morning glory, it was war, it wasn’t fair. 

we will never go back to that bloodshed. 

we’re burned for better. 

i vowed i would always be yours.

i would always be yours. 

paris. 

all the outfits were terrible. 

i’m so in love that i might stop breathing. 

i was taken by the view. 

romance is not dead. 

romance is not dead if you keep it just yours. 

levitate above all the messes made. 

i want to brainwash you into loving me forever. 

high infidelity. 

i didn’t know you were keeping count. 

you said i was freeloading. 

put on your records and regret me. 

i bent the truth too far tonight. 

i was dancing around it. 

do i really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? 

seemed like the right thing at the time. 

there’s so many different ways that you can kill the one you love. 

there’s so many different ways that you can kill the one you love. the slowest way is never loving them enough. 

do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life? 

glitch. 

we were supposed to be just friends. 

maybe i’ll see you out some weekend. 

i think there’s been a glitch. 

i’m fastening myself to you. 

i’m not even sorry. 

i was supposed to sweat you out. 

our love is blacking out. 

the system’s breaking down. 

i’d go back to wanting dudes who give nothing. 

would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. 

if you tasted poison you could’ve spit me out. 

if you’d never looked my way i would’ve stayed on my knees. 

i damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil. 

the pain was heaven. 

now that i’m grown, i’m scared of ghosts. 

memories feel like weapons. 

i wish you’d left me wondering. 

if you never touched me i would’ve gone along with the righteous. 

you made me feel important. 

you made me feel important, then you tried to erase us. 

you tried to erase us. 

you’re a crisis of my faith. 

if i’d only played it safe. 

i miss who i used to be. 

the tomb won’t close. 

i regret you all the time. 

i can’t let this go. 

i fight with you in my sleep. 

the wound won’t close. 

i keep on waiting for a sign. 

if clarity’s in death, then why won’t this die? 

living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts.

give me back my girlhood, it was mine first. 

dear reader. 

if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one. 

just run. 

pick somewhere and just run. 

desert all your past lives. 

if you don’t recognise yourself, that means you did it right. 

never take advice from someone who’s falling apart. 

bend when you can, snap when you have to. 

you don’t have to answer just cause they asked you. 

the greatest of luxuries is your secrets. 

when you aim at the devil, make sure you don’t miss. 

i prefer hiding in plain sight. 

you should find another guiding light. 

[rocketyship]

What don't you like about the '' i have no mouth but i must scream'' game versions of the characters? ( except ellen's story because that's understandable …)

OH HONEY LET ME TELL YOU!!!! As you said like most people I don’t like Ellen’s and it is understandable. But besides her I strongly dislike what they did with Gorrister, Benny, and especially Nimdok.

Gorrister: In the original text before AM took him he was a peace activist, a rights marcher, he was a man with intense morals that AM broke. That concept alone is just so fascinating to me. Our morals are what shapes as a human being, they affect every aspect of our daily life and AM took them and broke them and he ruined this man with a great sense of justice and turned him into just another shoulder-shrugger. Whilst what the game did to him was not that outrageous, I just don’t like him being a truck driver red-neck type. Personally I imaged Gorrister as someone very educated, well-spoken, and likely someone who may have played a role in the war which would add so many more layers to the story if that was the case.

Benny: This man was the biggest missed opportunity, and what they decided to do to him in the game just breaks my heart. In the og story and the radio adaptation there was the idea of Benny being a brilliant scientist, well respected, world renowned, he was handsome, and he was gay. AND AM TOOK ALL OF THAT FROM HIM. AM literally broke and blended this man so much that when you put his life during the war and the one after it, it’s like to different people. And then there is this opportunity, this idea that game missed out on. In the book Ted called him luckily because he’s had everything taken from him and doesn’t even know it, but like what if he does? What if he is still conscious and trapped in his head and literally unable to do anything about it. And when AM decides to turn his eyes to jello, then Damn!!! He is just stuck in this dark void where he feels this pain, hears it, but can do nothing about it. AM turned what seemed like a cool dude into a horrific animal and that’s so fascinating to me. The problem with game Benny being “a monster” before AM took them, also kind of defeats the horror of the whole twisting him into one. Like I don’t care that this terrible war person has been forced to devolve, he kind of deserves it, like what is he gonna learn about himself? What is he gonna confront? “Oh I’m such a bad person!” I’m pretty damn sure he knew that already and just didn’t care. Where’s the tragedy? What reason do I have to be entertained, horrified and sympathetic to this dude? No reason. He just sucks

Nimdok: Why the actual f*ck is he a n@zi?!?! Like I like the idea of all the survivors being from all over the world and not just American, but why in every damn piece of media are German characters always n@zis?!?! In fact, since he is one I don’t care what happens to him, I don’t care about his regrets, or the “nice” things he decides to do in the HOLOGRAPHIC WORLD. HE DESERVES TO SUFFER AND THAT IS THAT. I HATE IT. I HATE IT. AM’s hate and torturing of humanity is meant to pointless. He picked these humans cause they were either everything he desired to have and be, or by possible chance. Normal people, perhaps even good people, he twisted into this way. In the og story it was so vague what was up with Nimdok, the only clue to him being German was Ellison’s dramatic reading of the story where he puts on a accent for him. The horror is that this older man has been given a speed run on Alzheimers, which in itself is Damn scary in real life, he has this fake childlike bravery, this way to aimless believe whatever AM tells him. He doesn’t know his name! His identity is gone! No one is there to help him figure it out, cause the other survivors can’t, there is nothing he can and that’s just that. (I’m actually getting very frustrated right now, so I’ll just stop here).

So yeah. There. That’s my hot takes. Maybe someone will disagree with me, but never in my life have I seen anyone like Nimdok or really his story in the game.

[archiveikemen]

"Black Wedding" Story Event: Bitter END

Liam's Route

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

As I walked through the open doors, a group of cultists dressed in white came into view.

Standing at the altar was the Founder, assuming the role of the priest.

And—.

Liam: … Kate.

Liam gently wrapped his hand around mine that were cold due to my nervousness.

Amidst the air of tension and exaltation, the Founder’s voice echoed through the church.

Founder: It is time to recite your vows of love.

Liam: Kate.

Kate: Yes…

Liam: I promise to love you in sickness and in health.

Kate: Me too. I promise to love you in sickness and in health.

Founder: I hereby pronounce you as a pair who will love each other for eternity. — And now, a kiss to seal your vows.

Liam lifted my black veil and touched my cheek.

He muttered right before our lips touched.

Liam: … We’ll have to put this kiss on hold.

(Huh…?)

Immediately after, Liam protectively hid me behind his back.

Kate: …!

I gasped when I saw from behind Liam’s back that the cultists were all holding guns and knives.

However, Liam had sensed it and was the first to fire his gun.

Black Haired Cultist: … Guwahh!

Well-Built Cultist: Damn it, why does he have a weapon! Kill both the bride and groom…!

Liam: Looks like it was a good idea to bring a gun just in case…

Liam unhesitatingly shot down and killed the cultists one after another.

(There’s a gunman up there too!)

A cultist on the second floor pointed his gun at Liam—.

Kate: Liam! Watch out!

Liam: !

I hugged Liam and crouched down, a hole appeared at the exact spot we were standing on just a second ago.

(... Thank goodness. I was able to protect Liam in time.)

Liam: Thanks for protecting me, Kate. You’re the best bride ever.

Liam: … I’ll do even better. Just hang in there for a little while more, I’ll have all of them gotten rid of in no time.

30 seconds after Liam smiled charmingly at me…

Every last one of the cultists were lying on the floor, patches of red blooming around them.

(... The Founder is the only one alive.)

Liam: This is how those couples who vowed eternal love to each other were killed.

Liam: Their love won’t break or fade away if they’re dead, that’s why it’s called “eternal love”.

Founder: … That’s right.

Kate: … Why did you do that?

Founder: Because there’s no such thing as a love that lasts forever in this world.

Kate: Huh…?

I was baffled to hear the person who claimed to be able to grant us eternal love, say that eternal love didn't exist.

Founder: No matter how much a pair of lovers love each other, that love will break eventually as time goes by.

Founder: The once beautiful love turns ugly and starts to rot away, they might even start detesting each other…

Founder: That’s why I want to save something so beautiful and make it last forever.

Founder: … What is so wrong about that?

(... Those eyes are so dark and corrupted.)

There must've been something that led him to harbour such selfish and twisted ideals.

(However, that can’t justify the act of killing people who didn’t want to die.)

Liam: I get what you’re thinking. Because I, too, don’t believe in the existence of eternal love.

Liam: But my reason is a little different from yours.

Kate: …

Liam: Before I met her, I spent my life wishing for my own end. It was the only thing giving me hope.

Liam: … To me, “eternity” was too outrageous for me to ask for.

Liam: That’s why I think that I still can’t say with confidence that I can make such a miracle happen.

Liam: But… while desiring eternity, I can spend my days with the one I love.

(Spending your days with the one you love, while desiring eternity…)

Liam looked at me and smiled lovingly.

Liam: Kate. I’ll love you with all my heart until the day I die.

Liam: While staying by your side, I’ll wish for an eternity that I’ve never seen before. Because I love you.

Kate: … Liam.

I felt uneasy hearing Liam say that eternal love didn't exist.

And yet, Liam was trying his best for our love to last forever.

That kind of love was deeper and more sincere than anyone else's.

(I would much rather have a love that’s sincere, than be told that there was such a thing as eternity…)

Founder: … Shut up.

Founder: Shut up, shut up, shut up! You will regret this! And before that, I will create that eternity!

Faster than the Founder could pull out his gun and pull the trigger, Liam shot a bullet that pierced through his heart.

Liam: Good night. … You can continue your search for eternal love in hell.

Afterwards, Crown arrived to clean up the bloody bodies lying around, as well as the corpses that were stored underground.

— Innocent lovers would never shed blood again.

…

Liam: I never thought our first wedding would end up like this.

Kate: Fufu, same here. But I’m so glad that you’re safe and sound…

Liam: It’s because you protected me. Thank you, my lovely bride.

Kate: Thank you for protecting me too, my handsome husband.

Still smelling like blood, we smiled at each other while in the church’s garden.

Looking up at the starless sky, Liam’s lips lifted into a smile.

Liam: … I hope that when we have our real wedding someday, it will have nothing to do with missions.

Liam: I’ll give you a bouquet of modern roses so big that you can’t hold them.

Liam: … And I’ll seal our vows with a kiss. Ah, but I don’t want anyone witnessing that.

Liam: After the wedding ceremony, we’ll go on a honeymoon as newlyweds. What do you think about going to a place where we can see the sea?

Kate: Fufu, that would be wonderful. Let’s lie down on the beach.

Liam: Ahaha, that’s the best!

Liam: …

Liam: I hope to finally reach eternity with you someday. … I look forward to tomorrow whenever I’m with you.

I could tell from his slightly hoarse voice that those words were sincere from the bottom of his heart.

(... Oh dear, I think I might tear up.)

Kate: … Me too.

(Both of us had neither the strength nor innocence to say for sure that our love would last for eternity.)

(... But I can confidently say that we will love each other today, tomorrow, and always.)

We were still together, holding hands that have been separated on too many occasions.

Kate: Hey, Liam. What you said at the church earlier on made me very happy to hear. Therefore, let me promise you that as well.

I took his beautiful hand and placed a kiss on the back of his fingers.

Kate: I promise to love you with all my heart until the day death pulls us apart.

Kate: While staying by your side, I’ll wish for an eternity that I’ve never seen before. … Will you live tomorrow with me too?

Liam: …

Liam: … There’s only… one answer… to that…

He pulled me into a hug so tight that I almost couldn't breathe.

I knew from those trembling fingers touching my back that he loved me from the bottom of his heart.

Liam: … Yes. Please stay like this with me forever.

I kissed him instead of verbally telling him “I’d love to”.

I hoped that one day, that kiss would be a real kiss to seal our vows.

[girl-next-door-writes]

More Than You Could Ever Know

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader  

Summary: Steve becomes your knight in shining armour, but things start to get a little too close to the truth for comfort. 

Word Count: 1763 words 

Prompt: #19: Fake dating to appease the parents but it turns real. 

A/N: The lovely @zaramarrogers chose this prompt for the wonderful Mr. Steve Rogers, and I think it is super cute. 

Steve looked up from his sketchbook as you burst into the room. “Okay, which of you fantastic, amazing, kind, wonderful, handsome men are prepared to be my fake boyfriend for an evening? I can offer a free three course meal at a nice restaurant and free drinks. Though not enough for you to get drunk because you need to impress my parents.”  

“I would love to offer my services, but I think Pepper would kill me.” Tony grinned, leaning on the back of the sofa. 

“Yeah, your ‘playboy’ days are long gone, Stark, but thank you for the hypothetical offer.”  

“Don’t take Barnes,” Sam smirked, “He’ll scare the crap out of everyone with that murder stare of his, and his resting bitch face.” 

“Hey! I’ve not got resting bitch face.” Bucky frowned, utilizing his murder stare. 

“Look, I don’t care which one of you steps up here, I just need someone because I cannot sit through another Christmas family celebration with all my aunts and uncles, my grandparents, my parents, everyone, and have that same damned conversation. The one where everyone tries to work out what’s wrong with me because I’m still single. Just once, I would like to just have a nice night, so will someone do me a solid here?”  

The fact you didn’t care who did you this favour made Steve’s stomach drop. He had been hoping the two of you had been moving towards being closer, that you might have sort him out to ask this favour of him, but that wasn’t the case.  

“Well, Hope wouldn’t be overjoyed about Scott playing that role. Bucky is too scary, Clint is too grumpy, Tony is too under the thumb, so I guess...” Sam grinned, watching Steve out the corner of his eye. 

“I’ll do it.” Steve blurted out, not wanting Sam to offer first. The thought of you pretending to be with anyone, or even really being with anyone, made his blood run cold. He wanted you more than you would ever realise, and if this was as close as he was going to get then he would take it.  

“Really?” Your face lit up with a smile and you practically bounced over to him, kneeling on the sofa beside him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “You really are the best, Steve Rogers. Total life saver. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You enthused and Steve basked in your happiness, watching with a goofy smile as you bounded out of the room to get ready for the family gathering.  

“Thought you were gonna fumble that one, man.” Sam smirked. “Now go show the girl how good you would be together. Take the shot.”  

Steve was nervous and as he stood beside you outside the restaurant, he tried to swallow down his anxiety. This was a huge amount of pressure. What if your family didn’t like him? What if he did something and you saw him differently? When your hand slipped into his, he looked down at you and gave you a reassuring smile. He was here for you, to give you a nice evening, everything else didn’t matter.  

“You ready? You remember the back story and everything?”  

“This isn’t my first mission, doll. I can do this.”  

“Right, well, here we go.”  

He held the door open for you and as soon as the two of you entered you were engulfed in hugs by women of various ages. The warm welcome caught Steve off guard, but he smiled and returned greetings, even blushed at the compliments that came his way.  

“Come, come sit. We’ve got the large table at the back. Now then, Steve, I can see why she kept you all to herself, she obviously didn’t want to share such a fine young man.” Your mother teased as she hooked her arm through his and led him off to the table. Steve looked over his shoulder at you, a hint of panic in his eyes.  

“You’ve got this.” you mouthed, giving him two thumbs up as you followed behind.  

By the time everyone had made their way through the starters, Steve was feeling much more comfortable. His arm rested on the back of your chair, and he made sure to keep you close. He joked with your grandfather, talked sports with your father, even shared some stories about life outside of missions. Every few minutes, he would glance at you, checking in, and make sure you were okay and enjoying yourself.  

Leaning into Steve as you talked to your aunt across the table, you couldn’t help but notice how easy this all was. He made you laugh as much as Bucky did, was as interesting as Bruce, could weave a story as well as Tony, in fact, he was pretty much the perfect boyfriend. Fake boyfriend, you mentally corrected yourself. This was all pretend after all, there was no need to get caught up in thoughts of what could definitely never be.  

You tuned back into Steve’s conversation as dessert was placed on the table. It seemed that someone had asked about when he realised you were the one for him. A sense of panic washed over you, this was not something you had covered in the extensive backstory you’d concocted.  

“You know, people talk about these big moments, all dramatic and emotional. It wasn’t like that. I was coming back from a workout late one night, I couldn’t sleep, and I headed to the kitchen to grab a drink. She was sat at the counter wearing a huge hoodie that drowned her, hair all disheveled from sleep, pillow creases still on her cheek, and her hands wrapped around a warm mug. She looked all sleepy and on the verge of falling asleep right there on the counter. I had this overwhelming urge to just pick her up and carry her to her bed, tuck her in and just be with her. Not that I told her any of that because I was fairly certain I didn’t stand a chance. I mean, look at her, she’s amazing. So, there I was, just looking at her like some love stuck teenager or something, and she rubbed her eye, yawned and then fell backwards off the stool. I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast in my life! I caught her, made sure she was sitting securely, and she looked up at me and said, ‘Hey Cap, didn’t see you there.’ That was it. As if she just knew I’d stop her from falling even if she didn’t know I was there.”  

Your cheeks grew warm. You remembered that night, it had been so long ago, and you were surprised that was the moment he’d chosen to share. Watching his expression, you suddenly began to understand how much that moment had meant to him. Replaying all your interactions with Steve, it felt as if a floodgate of realisation had been opened. Innocent interactions now held so much significance. Small touches, the times you caught him looking at you, the words that hung in the air between you unspoken.  

“And what about you, dear? When did you realise Steve was the one?” Your Grandmother asked and you felt all eyes on you, expectant.  

“I, erm, I needed someone to help me with this thing, this mini mission, and Steve was the first to offer to help. He put so much work into it, made sure it all went perfectly and he always seems to surprise me. I never really thought about it before but he’s right, I know he will always be there to catch me, and I want to be there for him too. There have been so many little moments, helping me with tree day and dancing to cheesy Christmas music. He is... he’s wonderful, and I am very lucky to have him in my life.” You glanced up at Steve who was looking at you as if you hung the stars.  

The moment was broken by the cheers as the last of the desserts arrived and everyone could tuck in. Steve found he wasn’t all that hungry. The butterflies in his stomach took up more room than he would like, and his mind was whirling. Did you mean what you had said? Was it part of the pretence? Did you like him too? It wasn’t as if he could ask you any of that in front of your family, so he kept quiet, indulging in small talk and trying his best not to get his hopes up.  

Steve managed to hold in all his questions until you arrived back at the compound. As you trudged up the gravel driveway towards the main door, he tugged at your hand, silently asking you to stop. Once you entered the building then the evening would be over, the pretence would be done with, and he needed just a few more moments.  

“Tonight was...” he began, trailing off as he got distracted by your eyes. 

“You were a big hit. I think I will have to bring you along to all future family gatherings or I’ll never hear the end of it.” you chuckled. 

“I wouldn’t mind that.” he said softly, running his thumb over yours.  

“No?” 

“No. I could very easily get used to being your boyfriend.”  

The lack of the word ‘fake’ hung between you, the silence loaded.  

“So, if this was a date then what happens next?” You asked, your eyes darting momentarily to his lips.  

“Well, I would escort you to your door, thank you for a wonderful evening, and...” 

You surged up and pressed your lips to his before he could finish his sentence. It took him a moment to catch up with what was happening, but as soon as he did, he was kissing you back eagerly. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if you might evaporate or vanish like a dream. When he eventually pulled back a little, he rested his forehead against yours.  

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He said breathily. 

“Then maybe we should make up for lost time.” You hummed, cupping his face and bringing him in for another kiss.   

[happysadyoyo]

lly

@transmascrage​

Yeah so I can’t reblog this post and OP has me blocked lmao. But I’ll always take the chance to shit on Whipping Girl. 

I don’t know/remember the particular paragraph in question -- I’m actually only halfway through the book. But I can tell you first and foremost what OP has written here is a bullshit maneuver to make everything about trans women. Let’s break it down.

‘Transmasc erasure’ is a tool to continue othering trans women and prevent the normalizations of transness in general.

Transmasc erasure in quotes could either be “scare quotes” meaning a way to exaggerate the importance of a thing, an attempt to mock the idea of something existing, or an attempt to quote the verbage used by other people. With such a short post I’m uncertain which, though I lean towards the mocking/scaremongering version. 

Transmasc erasure is used to other trans women. Once again, this post is shorter than the average tweet so it’s hard to get a lot of nuance here. On the one hand, a good faith interpretation would run along the lines of “this problem that one particular subset of trans folks face actually also hurts others as well” buuuut it’s hard to read this in such good faith, you know? Bringing in the context of the rest of the post, it feels like it should be read more like “lol you think transmasc erasure hurts you so badly well what about”isms. 

Transmasc erasure prevents the normalization of transness in general. The only actual good take in this shitpost. Sadly it’s burdened down by all the bullshit. 

All right, but I was tagged because Whipping Girl got brought up. So what have I learned thus far in the painful journey of reading and dissecting Serano’s work?

First, Serano is fucking transandrophobic. 

She speaks at length about how trans men have an easier time transitioning because the medical gatekeeping tends to be kinder on men than women. She explicitly states in chapter seven (emphasis mine):

In 1969, Money (and coauthors) discussed the results of tests they had administered to transsexuals to measure their feminine and masculine tendencies. The authors praised trans men for giving answers that were “masculine,” but not any more “masculine” than those of the average cissexual man. At no time did the authors consider the possibility that the trans men’s unexaggerated masculine responses were made possible by the fact that most gatekeepers, being male themselves, understood that there was more than one way to be a man. In contrast, trans women were derided for having scores that were higher on the feminine range than that of the average woman.

This segment is taken from part of the book where she talks about how trans women have to perform femininity in order to transition and how support groups will share questions and answers in order to fit into the “proper” mold so they can receive HRT and other gender affirming care. 

But wait a damn minute. Trans men do this too. Hell, it’s super common, not just in trans specific medical care that to be taken seriously by medical gatekeepers that you have to find other people in similar situations and learn the script. But let’s not focus on that. Just the trans men not needing to follow a script to get care. 

And in case you think nonbinary and agender or gender neutral folks are left alone in Whipping Girl (emphasis again mine):

There are many different strategies that trans people may use to ease their gender dissonance. Perhaps the most common one is trying to suppress or deny one’s subconscious sex. Others may allow their subconscious sex to come to the surface occasionally, for example through either crossdressing or role-playing. Still others may come to see themselves as bigendered (having a mixture of both femininity and masculinity and/or femaleness and maleness), gender-fluid (moving freely between genders), or genderqueer (identifying outside of the male/female gender binary). And those of us who make the choice to live as the sex other than the one we were assigned at birth are commonly called transsexuals.

Yeah no, she literally, explicitly says IN CHAPTER ONE that nonbinary, genderfluid, and genderqueer identities are a result of only partially expressing one’s subconscious sex. Because that’s how she’s experienced her transness. From denying, to cross-dressing, to nonbinary to a binary trans woman. And because she experienced things a certain way, she holds this to be true throughout the rest of her book. 

Whipping Girl came out in 2007. It was written in 2005. It’s outdated to say the least, even if it was any good in 2007, which I have my own feelings about (they’re negative). If there is a single paragraph about transmasc erasure in Whipping Girl that blows away my entire understanding of the book as being transandrophobic, exorsexist bilk built upon half-baked research, racism, and the personal experiences of a college-educated, middle-class white woman, then I look forward to reading it. 

But sorry, right now I don’t see it. 

As for the claim that transmasc erasure can be used to other trans women and trans femme aligned folks... yeah. Trans women being at the forefront of the public’s mind when it comes to transgender issues hurts trans women because they are so closely scrutinized. 

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt trans men or masc people, and it doesn’t mean that you can throw it as some gotcha card if trans spaces are criticized for prioritizing trans women and femme people or trans men or masculine people. 

Anyway tl;dr stop hiding behind Serano she’s a shitty gen trans advocate and should not be taken seriously when talking about trans masculine or nonbinary or nonwhite experiences. I wonder if this is what you were looking for Andrea? 

I really hate Whipping Girl and the way it gets used to belittle trans masculine experiences. And the fact that Serano is just. aldkjf exorsexist. 

[toaster-trash]

How’d you like the Sweeney Todd movie?

EhhHhhhHhhhhh

Between the hundred and one cut Johanna/Anthony scenes (and Johanna generally having no character, or at least an inaccurate one) to the point where they might as well have cut the whole plotline and it’d make no difference, the titular character being completely vacant and boring and void of personality and as a result causing some really weird tonal problems that weren’t present in the stage musical, weird historical inaccuracies and other inaccuracies (looking at you, cockroaches in a bakery in London??), I really wasn’t a fan?

No “Ah, Miss”??? No “Kiss Me”??? No birdcage breaking in “Johanna”???? No cringefail dad energy from our titular lad himself??? Johanna doesn’t get to commit a murder??? We don’t get any romantic scenes between her and Anthony??? But we’re still supposed to root for them??

I’m all for The Horrors™️ but to be honest it felt a lot less like a good adaptation of a musical with love and more like a slap-dashed “overly edgy for the sake of it” blood-fest with no real respect for the characterisation or even a lot of the themes of the original. The only real thing I liked about it was the grimy feel, Alan Rickman and whoever the wee lad who played Toby was (but even then they did his character dirty by just having him find out he’s been complicit in and partaking in mass cannibalism and having him be honestly mostly mentally fine?? 💀 why change that ending???)

Helena Bonham Carter was alright though. Just a bit young for the role.

It kind of felt less like a good adaptation of Sweeney Todd and more like “the Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter show”, which is the vast majority of what Tim Burton does, but god damn at least save that for films were it works, Corpse Bride was fantastic, Depp was great in Edward Scissorhands, I’m not saying these aren’t good actors, I’m saying that for whatever reason, maybe Burton’s direction, maybe it was an off-week, they aren’t playing those characters right and it just doesn’t work for the material and the plot beats they have to hit. And you can’t have it just be the Depp and Bonham Carter show – Johanna and Anthony are astronomically important to the plot and the story and the vast majority of their screen time was cut or changed.

I’m a massive fan of the stage musical, have been for ages, hope I’ll get to see it one day (in my dreams, a flight to London, a place to stay in London AND show tickets alone? Rip) but I’ll be honest, the Tim Burton film was disappointing. I really wanted to like it, I’d genuinely heard it was very good, I went into it thinking it would be good, I kept holding out to the end to reserve judgement, but it was disappointing.

[floatysparrowthing]

“I need this to be over, or I’ll soon join the dead.” This time his strangled laugh verges on a sob. “For fuck’s sake, that’d probably be a better fate. I’d be born into a different body… a different life.”

Wouldn’t that be so much easier? he thinks. He could start over. Be someone new. At least until he grew old enough to remember this life. And then what? Would he just be sent back here? Or would he run away before anyone of Den Thelyss found him again. But then he’d have to live with himself, knowing he’d abandoned so many people.

The Savior of the Damned

Chapter 4: The Sexterrogation

In which Verin gets creative and takes matters into his own hands.

It’s time, Verin decides, to go on the offensive.

He summons his echo in the cell with Mairon, feeling some dark satisfaction at Mairon’s nervous shift backward and the unease flickering across his face.

“I’ll play your game, Mairon,” he says, directing his echo to advance on Mairon and push him against the wall.

A small part of him wants to hurt Mairon. The part of him that’s grieving his fallen comrades, who just witnessed one of his greenest soldiers disemboweled by an invading monster, and who feels ready to combust at the sight of another demon. He wants to scare Mairon, because he can’t make the other demons flinch. He wants to see him squirm and inflict the same pain he’s been steeped in.

But that’s the part of himself he reigns in and buries deep. It’s a dark, roiling shadow licking at the edges of him that’s been steadily growing over these last few years. Truthfully, it scares him.

So rather than draw its shadowy blade, his echo leans in and kisses Mairon. Verin watches Mairon’s surprise turn into pleasure as his eyes close and he reaches up to pull the echo closer. While it still mostly resembles a shadowy, half translucent version of Verin, it solidifies at each point of contact between it and Mairon.

It’s unquestionably weird watching a version of himself kiss Mairon. His hands are slipping under Mairon’s shirt and his lips are moving to Mairon’s neck, but it’s not really him. If he wanted, he could slip his consciousness into it—he could see the gold freckles up close and hear Mairon’s breathy little exhales—but he doesn’t.

Amused, Mairon’s gaze turns to Verin all while he tangles his hand in the echo’s hair and presses the other against the small of its back.

“You won’t come in here yourself, Verin?”

Read the rest here: