#which is make mistakes and learn from them

[iamasaddie]

AN HONEST MISTAKE

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: swiping left and right on tinder, you think you match with Joel Miller, a handsome single dad in his late 30s. Feeling enamored and horny you decide to meet in person, only to be met with an almost completely different person. warnings: darkfic, dub-con eliments due to alcohol intoxication, gaslighting, very big age gap [Joel is 61], switching POVs, explicit sexual content. Some tags are not added to avoid spoilers, dm me if you need the full list. reader description: afab she/her, has hair long enough to be pulled; has boobs and ass; reader mid to late 20s-early 30s. word count: 6,2k

a/n: thank you for all of the excitement and interest you'd shown to this idea, i have been working on it for some time and i'm finally happy to show you part one. huge thanks to @arcanefox207 , Ally helped me to polish this chapter and shown me a lot of support which i truly appreciate <3 READ ON AO3

MASTERLIST | part 2

Dating wasn’t fun. It always felt like an inescapable chore for you, and you tried to avoid it at all costs. Hiding your face in your morning cup of tea when attacked by your mom’s questions, her voice distorted by poor video connection. Joking only to avoid the topic of boyfriends and girlfriends when your friend kept nagging you about it. Losing yourself in an unsatisfactory myriad of hands that belonged to faceless people when the nights got too cold for empty sheets.

You looked at your table, a small hand-made sign read “do better” in your own handwriting. And that was exactly what you were going to do. You were going to kill not two, but three birds with one stone, and that stone was going to be going on a date. A real, proper date, with excruciatingly predictable questions and awkward first touches. And you were going to have fun. 

On the fourth hour of swiping Tinder, you were a breath away from ghosting everyone you knew and hiding in the Peruvian Amazonia for the rest of your life. The few conversations that you managed to have quickly died out when the person you talked to learned what you were there for. A month ago you’d find a pretty face and invite them over to smoke and have some fun, but that wasn’t a great start for an actual relationship. No, your fuckgirl days were over, so you went back to swiping. 

And that was when you saw him.

Joel M., 39 Southern gentleman with a beautiful daughter. Work in construction, so I can build you a house. I am looking for a real connection, please, respect that.

God, he was handsome. Your mouth started salivating as you swiped through his pictures. He was broad, tall and had a tool in his hand. Not the one you immediately started wondering about, but it looked like at least he didn’t lie in his description. Feeling like a complete creep, you screenshotted his profile. If you weren’t a match, at least you’d have someone pretty to think about before going to bed tonight.

Gently, as if afraid, you swiped right. Your screen lit up, and so did your face, you gave a wide grin to your phone. “It’s a match!”

He was too good to be true. A gentleman, he didn’t lie there. Joel gave you the exact amount of attention to make you run towards your phone whenever it rang. It was definitely nothing like you expected. He was attentive, remembering what you said and when, never shied away from your questions, and on top of that he was devastatingly hot.

You heard a blip of a new message and unlocked your phone, a smile already plastered on your face like a Pavlovian reaction.

[Joel M.]: I was thinking, we seem to have a nice connection here, don’t we? [You]: I think so, too. A little unbelievable, but I am feeling hopeful. [Joel M.]: Unbelievable how?[You]: Unbelievable that no one snatched you up earlier. From where I am sitting, you look like a full package. [Joel M.]: Well, you’re sitting awfully far away, so I see how it looks like that. Why don’t we meet in person and find out if you still think the same, darlin? [You]: Joel, are you inviting me on a date? [Joel M.]: Only if you’re accepting. How about a dinner at my place? I am a pretty decent cook.

Your hand hovered above the screen. It wasn’t smart, going to a man’s place for your first date. He could be a creep, he could be a murderer… But then again, you could never brag about your self preservation instincts, sometimes you just thought with a little kitty purring between your legs. 

You tapped on his profile again, looking at the zoomed in picture of his face. His brown eyes looked sad, but kind. A half-smile tugged on his soft-looking lips. Just a few sprinkles of salt and pepper in his hair. Even if he turned out to be a creep, you’d never had such a handsome lay before, and you were planning to check all of his tools as soon as you could, you thought to yourself before typing your reply.

[You]: I’d love that. Send me the address?

You weren’t worried, not really. You never struggled with too low of self-esteem. You knew your strong suits, and you wore them like armor. The upcoming date sent a pleasant shiver down your back, anticipation made you giggle into the void of your lonely apartment. The closer the day came, the giddier you became.

So on the fateful night you had enough confidence to pick out the dress that was a bit uncomfortable but looked gorgeous on your body. You smacked some lipstick that complemented the shade of your skin, grabbed a small purse and a bottle of wine and winked at your reflection in the mirror. You looked good, you felt even better.

August kept tricking you with its weather, the days still suffocated you with heat while the nights were unpleasantly chilly. You hugged your naked shoulders and rubbed your skin in an attempt to warm up as you waited for your Uber to arrive. 

You got inside the white Honda Civic, the smell of cigarettes unpleasantly soaked into the seats so you opened up the window praying that it wouldn’t stink up your dress. The driver acknowledged you with a small grunt and a nod, you did the same, not willing to start a conversation. The estimated forty minutes dragged out and became an hour in the man’s GPS, of course you got stuck in traffic it was just your luck. And on your way to a literal dream man, no less. 

Your kitten heel kept tapping on the car floor, the annoyed-looking driver gave you a stern look in the rear view mirror that you completely ignored. You needed to warn Joel that you were going to be late, and it made you want to grind your teeth. You hated being late, be that a party, a dentist appointment or a walk in the park with a friend. It made you feel guilty, leaving your palms sticky with cold sweat. You clearly weren’t going to make a good first impression, and with the way you chewed your lip bloody, you might not even get a kiss. You looked at the picture of him you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. Out of the two of you, you were definitely winning the creep competition, while he was just a dream come true. 

You zoomed in on his face, your thumb caressed the pixels of his skin. There were smile lines around his lips, and you wondered what made him laugh so hard throughout his life that the remnants of the gesture permanently cut themself into his skin. Joel’s eyes were gleaming with youthful mischief, something you’d thought a person loses after having a child, but he clearly proved you wrong. Sun made his brown look like amber, adding to the overall handsomeness of the man. You imagined yourself next to him – yes, it was way too early, but you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering – he’d be taller, bigger than you, his strong hand on your lower back as you walk through the city. The eyes of men and women hungry to have what’s yours, but he’d only look at you. Yes, he was a bit older, but still young enough to have you on his arm without dealing with accusatory stares and venomous whispers behind your back.

A loud honking from the car behind you made you jump in your seat. The line of cars finally started moving and it brought a sense of relief to you. You had 20 more minutes, maybe you were still going to make it.

The sound of your heels kissing the pavement echoed like gunfire through the neighborhood. When your taxi left you at the needed address, you looked around. It wasn’t too late, the small houses still looked alive with yellow lights and muffled voices. You took a deep breath, straightened your back and looked in front of yourself, examining the location. 

From the outside, Joel’s house looked nice. Nothing too fancy, the white paint a bit chapped, but the porch looked recently freshened up. A sturdy looking rocking chair covered with a blanket and a pillow gave the place a cozy feeling. His lawn was perfectly trimmed, and you imagined watching him mow it from that same porch with an iced tea in your hand. He’d be sweaty and shirtless, you’d drag him inside to fuck before he finished even a third of the territory. You clenched your thighs, a small pool of wetness gathering in your thongs. You better keep that thought away or you’d jump the poor man’s bones before he had the chance to say hello.

You checked your phone, 8:27 PM. Not too late, even acceptable in some countries, you tried to cheer yourself on. You hoped he wasn’t as insane about being late as you were or here went your first date in years. Gently, you tapped on the wooden door, the sound of someone approaching from the other side made you squeeze the bottle neck harder.

When the door flew open, you stretched out the hand holding the wine and fired out an apology in the most comical way you could, your eyes tightly shut.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrendous. I promise I am usually never late, ever.” When no reply followed, you opened your eyes, a smile still tugging on your lips as you took in the man in front of you. It was both Joel and not. With your hand still outstretched, your mouth dropped with a hundred different questions, but you only managed to ask one. “Joel?”

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Is this some kind of a joke? Are you his dad or something?”

The man in front of you was not in his late thirties, hell, he wasn’t even in his late forties! The Joel that was staring at you looked pretty old, mid-fifties at least, you thought to yourself. His hair was mostly salt, no pepper in sight. It was inches longer than in the picture, soft-looking, it curled at the bottom. He was as tall and broad as you imagined, and it did give a little pang to your core that you quickly shut off. His face was ridden in wrinkles, prominent crows feet near his eyes that were still sad, still brown. You had half a thought to turn around and order yourself an Uber home, but the bewildered look on his face made you stop where you were.

“Darlin’, I know what’s going through your head right now, because I promise I didn’t expect you to be this young either! It must’ve been Sarah, my baby girl. She set up this thing, said she was tired of seeing her old man sad an’ miserable. Guess she didn’t think I was mighty attractive anymore.” He says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “She just straight up told me today that a nice woman would come over for a dinner, said she’d be here too, and if I loved her I had better prepared my nicest shirt an’ all. Christ, what was that girl thinking?” 

You caught yourself feeling bad for the man, your heart clenching. He was still definitely handsome. His stomach was slightly more prominent and his was shirt hugging him tightly in the middle. His hand that tucked a little white strand of hair behind his ear matched his face in little sun spots, skin that had been kissed by the burning star for longer than you’d been alive. But he still got it, in a silver fox kind of way. Poor man, put into such an embarrassing situation by his own daughter. Being willingly childfree had never looked more appealing to you. 

“You came all the way here just to be disappointed, I can’t tell you how-“

“I’m not disappointed,” you interrupted him quickly and stepped forward, an unknown force drove your hand to squeeze his forearm in a reassuring gesture. His eyes dropped when your manicured nails dug into his ironed flannel. “Just surprised, but that’s not a bad thing. We both unknowingly catfished each other.”

“Catfish? Ain’t that a type of fish?” 

“No,” you laughed lightheartedly, the man was adorable. The cold breeze picked up, and you were reminded that you were still on the porch, if any neighbors were out they were definitely getting a fresh batch of gossip to discuss before sleep. “It’s when you… You know what, no matter, it’s not important.”

Joel looked hesitant, his jaw ticked and you noticed him look you up and down before swallowing hard. Was he blushing? 

“I want to make it up to you before you go. I made us a nice dinner when I thought you were umm… age appropriate,” Joel tightened his lips and gave you an apologetic smile. “It ain’t catfish, just a steak, but I swear on my mama, it’s good.”

Before you could respond, your stomach growled making the decision for you. Your hand jumped to it, fisting the material of your dress as if trying to silence the embarrassing sound.

“Well, I don’t see any harm in that,” you smiled, accepting Joel’s invitation. The man looked harmless and you didn’t want to leave him sad and miserable, it seemed like he felt guilty enough. “It was quite a long drive.” Maybe it all could become a funny story you both would tell your friends. Separately. 

He stepped aside and you waltzed inside his house. It was big enough to still be cozy without making you feel trapped. The warm light made everything look safe and homey, hardwood floor creaked gently under your footsteps. The door lock clicked behind you and you turned around.

Joel was looking at you, a more confident smile now stretching his lips. The soft lighting took a few years off his face, and once again you noted that the man aged like a fine wine. That reminded you of the bottle you were still tightly gripping in your hand, and you stretched it out to Joel for the second time that night. He accepted with a muttered ‘thank you’.

“Feel at home, sweetheart, I’ll just grab something real quick.” Joel pointed towards his kitchen, the space was open, luring you in with a mouth-watering smell. 

You felt awkward walking around a stranger’s house, but followed his instructions. 

You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on the exposed skin of the back of your thighs, his tongue flicking over his lower lip in anticipation. 

He disappeared further into the hallway, and you made your way towards the dining table. 

Alone, you took the opportunity to study the place you were allowed in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very unique, or maybe you were just a shitty detective. Joel’s kitchen that spilled out into a dining room was disappointingly ordinary. Walls painted a soft yellow; polished doors of wooden cupboards and kitchen cabinets that looked old but taken care of; a four-person dining table that was now set with a few plates, simple utensils, napkins and wine glasses. You narrowed your eyes trying to see the pictures that were stuck to the fridge with small butterfly magnets. Your long ride and empty stomach must’ve taken a toll on your eyesight so you could barely make out Joel in those. There was a picture of him with another man, and… You leaned over the table as if trying to get closer, to see better.

“You know, you can just come closer to the fridge.” Joel’s chuckle made you jump in your seat.

“Sorry, I was just,” the right explanation failed you, and you surrendered. “I was just being nosy.”

“Didn’t catch you going through my drawers, so no harm. Can’t really snoop if it’s out there to see, right?” Joel set the opened bottle of the wine you’d brought on the table and waved a bottle opener in his right hand. “Haven’t had wine in some time so had to go look for this guy,” he explained. 

“Whatever you made, it smells delicious,” you smiled at him. The sucking feeling in your stomach became uncomfortable, and you cursed at yourself internally for skipping lunch.

“Well then, let’s get some of it in you, shall we?”

Joel seemed way more relaxed, maybe your agreement to spend time with him made him feel less guilty for his daughter’s actions; or maybe it was the confidence of being a host. Either way, it looked good on him. 

You didn’t stop your eye from wandering over his frame while he looked away, putting food on your plates. His dark green shirt was snug around his broad shoulders, the soft-looking material translated the feeling of warmth and comfort you lacked in your dress. He had blue jeans on, and you felt your cheeks heat up when you noticed a firm ass hidden behind the rough fabric. Your hand left the table, and you tugged at your bottom lip absent-mindlessly. What was twenty more years? He turned around and since your eyes hadn't moved, you were now shamelessly staring at his crotch. The jeans did not hide much.

You snapped your face up immediately at Joel’s quiet cough. There was a barely hidden smirk on his face, so you decided that no harm was done. So what if you gave the man a quiet compliment? You’d been doing that for the last two weeks, even though apparently his daughter was the one responding to them. You could spare some flirting for the poor guy, he looked like he enjoyed a bit of your harmless attention.

He didn’t lie, he was a decent cook. The meat melted on your tongue and the wine you brought complimented it nicely. You didn’t notice the way your glass was always full, Joel’s stories from the past kept you too entranced.

Heat was creeping up your chest, settling in your cheeks and you moved the wine glass away. You could tolerate a full bottle without being visibly affected, not your proudest trick but it was what it was. Yet, now you felt like you’d emptied at least a couple of bottles on an empty stomach, even though the bottle on the table proved otherwise. You felt dizzy, but not in a bad way, just more relaxed than you were planning to be. Joel looked more handsome every minute, his syrupy thick voice lulled you into a trance-like headspace.

“Can’t lie, you look mighty pretty, darlin’. Had I been thirty years younger it’d be hard to keep my hands to myself.” 

Wine dimmed your instincts, so you just giggled. Joel’s eyes darkened as he tripped his gaze from your face to your bust, your breasts straining against the silk fabric of your dress. You noticed him looking and cleared your throat, tits jiggling slightly. 

“Forgive an old man, sweetheart?” There was nothing sorry about his tone, but it slipped your mind completely, your guard almost all the way down. “As I said, haven't had a pretty thing like you here in ages.”

You tried to study his face, your brain foggy as you struggled to figure him out. “You compliment like a man deep in the dating pool,” you smirked, “makes it hard to believe it’s all an accident. Maybe you actually lured me in here

intentionally?” You raised your eyebrows, but couldn’t handle your own silly accusation, breaking down in giggles.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, this old dog is all bark no bite.” His smile looked sincere, kind laughter leaving his wet lips and he gave you a wink.

“You’re not that old,” your voice dragged the words out like you wanted to convince yourself more than him. You felt hot all over and you weren’t sure if it was the result of the wine you drank.

“You’re too kind, sweetheart, no need to spare my feelings. My prime is long behind the horizon.”

“No, you’re actually very handsome,” you didn’t lie, anyone with a good working set of eyes would see his attractiveness, and you had two weeks to cement it in your brain. “You have a very nice smile, and your hands,” your eyes dropped on the table where a giant fist was curled around his fork. “A lot of women appreciate a good set of hands.”

“Learned to work with them pretty well, too.” Joel nodded and smirked. “Leaking faucets, clogged drainage. Can fix it all.”

In your mind that phrase sounded naughtier than you were sure the man intended it to, and you reprimanded yourself, feeling a different kind of heat rise from your belly. With one swift movement you’ve emptied what was left in your glass of wine, forgetting about your need to somehow get home after dinner. Joel only poured some more in your glass, smiling softly.

He learned the dance moves long ago. Pretty birds like you were comfortably predictable, and even though you oozed a different kind of odor, he knew exactly what to say. He watched you sip your wine with ease, his own glass barely touched on the table.

When the last piece of salad was cleaned off your plate, you felt a pleasant fullness in your belly. Your head was heavy in a sleepy kind of way, and you looked around, trying to find something to hold your attention on. Your eyes skimmed the living room, from where you were sitting you could see an old couch, in some spots it was now more beige than brown, its big cushions looked soft and the blue quilt draped over the back of it was calling your name.

There was a guitar leaning against one of the armrests and you moved your eyes back at Joel who was silently studying you.

“You play that?” You blindly pointed your thumb towards the strategically placed instrument and Joel curtly nodded.

“I pluck the strings, sometimes something bearable comes out.” He joked, the apples of his cheeks saturated with color and you reached your hand to take his

and gently squeezed it. Joel’s skin turned out to be warm and dry, the sensation of giving him such an innocent touch tingled on your fingertips.

“I noticed you tend to undersell yourself. Would you play something for me?” You didn’t want to leave yet, and your empty plate didn’t really leave you a reason to stay. You tilted your head to the right and gave Joel a sweet smile, hoping he’d succumb to your charm. He didn’t wait long before returning the soft gesture. Slowly, he got off his seat. His figure loomed above you for a quiet moment before he outstretched his palm.

“I’d never be able to refuse you,” he admitted. Your hand drowned in his and he tugged you up. You almost crushed into his broad chest, but to your own dismay he took a step back. Your insides throbbed, the smell of his cologne mixed with his own odor awoke every single receptor on your skin.

“Do you like old stuff?” 

“I’m still here,” you quipped and shrugged your shoulders innocently. Joel stopped, making sure you saw him roll his eyes in fake annoyance. He couldn’t contain the breathy laugh, though, so you knew he got your joke. 

You moved towards the couch, while Joel walked a step behind you, enjoying the view of your ass in a skin tight dress. The outline of your thongs was visible to him, and he smiled to himself, maybe you weren’t as innocent as you pretended to be. Joel bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from any comments.

His hand hugged the neck of the guitar confidently, while you made yourself comfortable on the couch.

“I think I know just the thing.”

Your eyes never left his fingers as he started to hum an unfamiliar melody.

His voice lulled you in, deep vibrations as he plucked the strings reverberated in your chest. You felt so warm inside, the heat that was pooling in the depth of your belly rose and touched your chest, neck, the tips of your fingers. The dress clung to your skin unpleasantly and for a moment you wished you could take it off. Was it so wrong?

Your eyes traced Joel’s face, the sharp angle of his nose, the tip of it twitching as he sang gently. His lips caressed the words with a tenderness of a lover and you wondered when was the last time they did the same to a woman. Your thighs tightened as your body already knew something your mind only danced around. You shifted in your seat, moving closer to Joel, letting your knees touch.His eyes found yours, a question burning in his browns. You shrugged your shoulders and gave him a small smile, he smiled back. The melody continued, his warm timbre embracing the words.

Maybe tomorrow, honey, Some place down the line, I’ll wake up older So much older, mama, I’ll wake up older, and I’ll just stop all my trying

Your fingers drew patterns on your dress, nails picking at the seam with nervousness. The fire in the center of you gave you confidence to follow through, and your hand ended up on Joel’s knee, slowly moving up until your pinky touched the wood of his guitar. The melody didn’t falter, but his voice did.

“Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?”

“It is a date, isn’t it?” The shreds of your confidence only allowed you to squeeze his thigh with a hint, yet your eyes looked anywhere but his face.

“You shouldn’t do something like that to an old man like me, will break my heart when you leave,” he sounded so painfully sad, it made your heart ache as bad as your pussy. You looked him in the eye then, god, he was so handsome. 

“What if I don’t leave?” You challenged him like a mouse challenging a lion. Joel shook his head, his hand gripping the guitar’s neck viciously.

“Stop playing with me, darlin’.”

“What if I’m not playing?”

You expected another sad plea, another crack in his voice. But instead, he put his guitar to the side and spread his legs wider than before. “Then prove it.” He husked out. “Prove that you know what you’re doing.”

There was no mistake in what he meant. His voice added a new depth into it, eyes glowed with something dark. Passion, you thought. Need. The one that was pushing you to your knees at that same moment. The one that numbed your skin when your bones hit the hardwood floor between his spread thighs. The one that guided your hands to his zipper before you could even steal a kiss off his tantalizing lips.

He was hot underneath his clothes, his skin was burning like he had a fever and you were almost too impatient to be gentle. Joel lifted his hips just enough to help you tug his jeans down, his grey cotton boxers followed. He watched you intently, and you watched his half-hard cock lay heavily on his full balls. They were hanging low, their size intimidating. But no more intimidating than the main course.

You weren’t offended that he wasn’t fully hard yet, still, Joel took you by the chin and made you look at him. “Sorry, darlin’, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time, but at my age, it’s just not enough anymore.”

You nodded, your mouth flooding with saliva at the thought of him growing under your tongue. He was thick, veiny, more veiny than the dicks you’d seen

before so you thought it was an age thing, however the vines surrounding his shaft only made you whimper harder, thighs squelching with your arousal. 

You leaned forward, inhaling full lungs of him. It was heady, strong, and made you dizzier than all the wine you drank. You reached your hand out with the intent of touching his cock, but Joel stopped you.

“Touch yourself.” For the first time you heard something dark in his melody. Commanding.

“What?” You were confused. Did he want you to just play with yourself? Because you were on the verge of bursting if he didn’t let you get closer to his cock.

“Put your little hand in your panties and slick it up with all the sweet juices that have been leaking out of you since the moment you saw me, darlin’.” Your mouth fell open, hand following his order under Joel’s dominant gaze. “Then you can wrap it around my dick, and prove to me that you really want this.”

It was so easy to just do what he said, without questioning the moral, the consequences. Your hand was wet with your arousal, pussy begging to keep it

there, to give some attention to your clit, but your mind was set on the man before you. 

He hissed when you wrapped your slick hand around his shaft and started jerking it slowly, feeling the girth of him thrum with growing desire. You looked at his cock, entranced. His shaft was shining with your own juices, a pink head became deeper in color as more blood rushed to his cock. You swiped your thumb over it, a tiny drop of precum glistening in his slit. 

“You’re doin’ such a good job, angel.” Joel’s hoarse voice was almost a whisper. You felt the steam coming from him, it made you sweat, your breath hitching. “Why don’t you put that mouth to use, hm, darlin’? You speak awful lot with it.”

It almost made you giggle, a plan forming in your head. Instead of letting his cock in the scorching wetness of your mouth, your head dropped lower. You

stuck your tongue out, lathering his heavy balls in your saliva. They were fuzzy, like a ripe peach, and you massaged them with the wet muscle. 

“Fuck, ain’t nothing angelic about you, huh?” Joel’s voice was barely recognizable, hungry and low it vibrated in your pussy. You opened your mouth wider, sucking his balls in turn. “That’s right, making me feel so good, sucking on my balls like that. Come on, baby, use your tongue.” 

You tried to alternate between licking and sucking on his ballsack, your spit drooling over your chin while you were panting like a rabid dog. The only thing that mocked your ladylikeness was your goddamn dress, and it was almost drenched in your own slick at this point. 

“Good girl, sucking on my balls like it’s what you came here for. Came here to make an old man cum? What a perverted little girl you are, sweetheart.” Your pussy tingled with your praise. The mouth on him made your head spin, like a newfound drug that affected only you he seeped under your skin making you pant and moan as you continued pleasuring him. Your hand jerked his thick cock in tandem with your mouth on his balls. Joel’s eyes never left you, as he continued praising you. “Mmhm, that’s good, drench ‘em, fuck you’re a dirty one.” 

You felt his hand at the back of your head as it pressed you harder into him, your nose was forced into his perineum and he almost humped your face with his groin. Your tongue hung out, and he managed to slide his balls across it before it almost went too low. The tip of your tongue almost touching his puckered hole covered in more hair. 

“Not today,” you heard him grumble before tugging you up. “Come on, darlin’, don’t make me waste a load.” He pushed on your cheeks with his hand, feeding you his cock in one movement. It was a lot to take, your teeth barely scraping his shaft, and you used your tongue to protect the underside. “Take it all, come on, darlin’, you’re the one who wanted it.”

Intoxication and arousal didn’t mix well, as you just moaned pathetically around him, letting him deeper in your throat. It bulged with the sheer size of his dick, you felt it, uncomfortable, but you couldn’t move, your body too heavy and tired. Instead, your hands found his wet balls, already tight and ready to blow every drop of cum he’d been saving for you. You tried to fit them in your hand, gently tugging at his sack to stimulate him further.

“Ready, sweetheart? I better not see you waste a drop.” His hips bucked, and your nose was pressed into the soft tuft of his grey pubes. Joel pressed your head into him harder as his hot load trickled down your throat. You tried to breathe through your nose, the lack of oxygen blackening your vision.

He pulled out seconds before you were ready to pass out.

“Gotta tap my leg or somethin’, sugar. I don’t need you dying with my cock still in your throat.” You chuckled, not sure why. Joel placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip, slippery with your saliva. His whisper sounded gentle, “God, you��re a mess. Beautiful.”

You didn’t trust your throat to work, so instead, you tried to get up on your trembling legs. Your pussy still screamed for release, so wet you could feel your arousal escaping your thongs and dripping down your leg. You hiked the skirt of your dress up, not an ounce of shame inside, and straddled Joel.

“Whoa, darlin’, slow down,” his hands dropped to your hips, keeping you in place. Your brows furrowed. He didn’t look like a man who’d let a lady down. “Why don’t we change our location?”

You didn’t get an opportunity to look around, your feet scrambling as he tugged you into a dark room. His pants were up, but undone, and you lost your heels somewhere along the way, your dress still hiked up like a common whore.

Everything was spinning, so when he dropped on the bed at first you thought he fell. His voice was navigating you through the darkness, but you could barely concentrate on it.

“Come here, angel, let this old man take care of your pretty pussy.” Joel smacked his lips, and guided you to climb on top of him, legs on each side of his body until your pussy hovered over his face.

“Panties,” you whimpered and heard an immediate crack of fabric ripping.

“Sorry, darlin’, can’t make you wait any longer,” his face pressed into the side of your thigh, sticky with your own juices, and you whimpered pathetically at the texture of his scruff scratching your sensitive skin. “Smell so good, fresh, like a new doll.”

You couldn’t understand what he meant, you didn’t even try to. When his lips latched onto your clit, your head tilted back and you let out a loud moan. Joel only moaned back, the sound penetrating your pussy alongside his tongue.

His hands gripped your asscheeks painfully, forcing you to grind on his face. His tongue slipped in your wet hole, and you felt yourself shaking on top of him, your legs giving out as he kept fucking you with his tongue. 

Joel growled in your skin, making you crawl to your orgasm faster and faster with every swipe of his tongue. 

The tip of his nose kept hitting your sensitive clit, as he pushed his tongue further and further in your fluttering hole. He kissed his way up, pinching your clit between his tightly clasped lips and sucked, punching a cry out of you with his raw vigor.

“Come on, sugar,” he commanded, “I feel her cryin’, give her what she wants.”

With doubled passion he flickered his tongue over your throbbing bud, and you felt sweat trickling down your neck and soaking into your dress as an orgasm rushed over you.

Your body felt powerless, and if not for Joel’s strong hands still holding you up, you’d have fallen back. But he kept you somewhat steady, lapping up all that your wasted body could give him until every swipe of his tongue started being painful and you had physically push his face away with trembling hands.

“Got too enthusiastic, my bad. Ain’t every day I get to drink from a fountain of youth.” Joel joked, helping you settle next to him in his bed.

Your tired body was half laying on top of him, fully drained yet still unexplainably insatiable. Forced by something deep in the pit of your belly, you dragged your nails over his soft stomach until you touched his soft cock again. Joel quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand to his chest. You felt the sparse hairs on his nipple tickle your palm. His heartbeat was hard, but steady.

“Sorry, angel, ain’t that young anymore.” He said, kissing the crown of your head. His fingers found their way into your hair and he tugged at it gently. “If you want me to fuck that pretty hole of yours, you’ll just have to agree to a second date.”

Your words were slurred, eyelids too heavy to keep them open. “Maybe I will, old man.” 

He chuckled, the grip of his fingers in your hair tightened as he looked in the distance. A couple of flickering street lamps visible from his window were providing minimum light in his room and a possessive smile creeped onto his lips as he listened to you snoring lightly into his chest.

You weren't the first mouse to get trapped so easily, but something told him you were special. He wasn't ready to discard you just yet.

LEAVE A COMMENT, YOUR FEEDBACK IS MY MOTIVATION <3

[antianakin]

No. That's NOT what I'm saying here, AT ALL. Move away from biology and nature being the end all and be all.

First, Leia is Leia. She is not just "Character A with some of Character B sprinkled in." She is her own person with her own motivations and flaws. I am comparing her to Padme because I think the narrative intentionally builds that parallel for us and I find it interesting to look at the ways in which Luke and Leia are deliberately set up to be the successes to their parents' failures. That does not mean that Leia IS "Padme" in any way.

Secondly, Leia would never in any way be fortified by any of Anakin's anything. Anakin is a piece of shit and part of the reason he's a piece of shit IS his self-righteousness. And it's not like Padme didn't have plenty of her own self-righteousness, too. Leia is fortified by BAIL AND BREHA ORGANA, but it's not "self-righteousness" she's fortified by. She's fortified by their passion, their discipline, their wisdom, their kindness, their bravery, their willingness to stand up for what's right without burning down everything around them in the process. She's fortified by their absolute will to remain who they are in a world that wants them to capitulate everything out of fear. Leia learns how to be a good leader because she's raised by two of them.

Thirdly, Leia learns how to be a good leader because she actively CHOOSES to be a good leader when given the options. Leia does not succumb to despair and selfishness the way both of her biological parents do. Leia does not let love cause her to give up something that would allow the rebellion to win the war. She loves Luke, but she lets him go to the Death Star as a self-sacrifice because she knows it's necessary if they're going to win this war and respects the choice he is making in this moment. Padme starts off as someone who chooses to be a good leader, and remains someone who makes that choice SOMETIMES but not all of the time. Padme CANNOT give up Anakin for the sake of the war or anything else. She chooses to exonerate him when he murders children, she chooses to cover his murders up, she chooses to trade Grievous for him despite what that will mean for the war effort and the people who died to capture Grievous in the first place, and she chooses to lie to Obi-Wan to protect Anakin even after she discovers that Anakin committed a genocide and helped destroy the Republic. Padme would never have made the choice Leia makes in ROTJ.

If you think "self-righteousness" is what allowed Leia to let Luke go in that moment, then you might need to go watch it again. It's not self-righteousness that saves Leia from Padme's mistakes. It's compassion, something Anakin barely had any of in his adult life and something Padme struggled with by the end. And by compassion, I mean the way the term is actually utilized in Star Wars, a selfless love towards everyone. It's the opposite of attachment, it's an ability to let go of biases in order to show kindness to everybody, no matter who or what they are.

And then of course there's Luke. Again, it is not anything from Padme that saves him. He's never met Padme and, unlike Leia, he doesn't seem to have any kind of latent memory of her nor do the Larses seem to have ever told him any stories about her (not that they'd have had that many to tell, but we know they told Luke that his dad was a smuggler of some kind, so it's not out of the realm of possibility that they could've come up with a lie about who his mother was, we just never hear about it). If Luke is a better Jedi than Anakin, it's not somehow Padme's influence that saves him.

It's the Larses. This is Owen and Beru's down to earth hardworking values coming in. Unlike the Organas, Owen and Beru aren't really represented as these brilliant paragons of virtue. Owen and Beru make mistakes, even in terms of how they choose to parent Luke. But what this does for Luke is it shows him how to LEARN and GROW from his mistakes, something he uses quite a lot during the original trilogy. Luke learns how to be dependable and resilient. When it matters, Luke can rise up and do what needs to be done. He DOES have some of Anakin's darkness in him, that's a major element of his character and his narrative, but it's not his biological mother's compassion that saves him. It's Owen and Beru Lars's values, and it's the Jedi philosophies he was taught by Obi-Wan and Yoda. THAT'S what keeps him from making the same mistakes Anakin did.

Leia is Bail Organa's righteous passion and willingness to enter a fight tempered by Breha Organa's discipline and wisdom.

Luke is Owen Lars's protective instincts towards those he loves and firmness of opinion tempered by Beru Lars's empathy towards everyone she meets and open-minded acceptance of change.

As interesting as it can be to look at how Luke and Leia parallel their biological parents from a narrative standpoint, the two of them as people will always be so much more a product of the Organas and the Larses than Anakin and Padme.

People are SLEEPING on the most interesting Leia & Padme comparisons because there's so much focus on Leia being "like Anakin" because she gets annoyed sometimes and Padme being this perfect moral beacon of truth and justice despite all of her very canonical lies and cover-ups and obstructing of justice.

If Luke is the Jedi that Anakin should've been, then Leia is the LEADER that Padme should've been.

Padme is a hypocrite, proclaiming that all people deserve basic decency and the right to safety, but at the same time allowing Anakin to get away with a mass murder with no consequences by covering it up.

Leia doesn't even let Han get away with being a little bit of an asshole, there's no way she'd let him get away with mass murder. She holds everyone around her to a higher standard, believing in the best of them but also but refusing to accept excuses for cowardice and selfishness.

Padme talks so much about wanting the war to end, but then allows one of the opposition's biggest generals go free just to get Anakin back because she cares about him, causing the war to continue to go on for even longer.

Leia lets Luke sacrifice himself because she knows it's possibly the only way they might have a victory and beat the Empire, even though she knows what he is to her and loves him. She knows what has to be done and respects the choice Luke is making and would never condemn their efforts just to keep him with her.

Padme's story parallels Anakin's, she devolves as the narrative goes on, until she's barely a shell of the person she used to be. That strength and moral clarity she showed as a Queen is entirely gone, leaving only a scared woman pleading with a murderer to come back to her.

Leia's story parallels Luke's, she gains more and more strength and clarity as the narrative moves forward. The bossy young woman we first met has become a confident rebel leader who knows she doesn't have to harden her heart to be strong.

[universefcb]

hey! Can you make one which reader and Pedria are arguing because Pedri is jealous, like they really fight but them they get all fluffy

ROLLERCOASTER, PEDRI GONZALEZ.

→ Summary: You fight because of his jealousy..

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff/angusty. Obsession.

→ Author's note: I love him.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The door to the room slammed shut. It wasn't an accident.

She turned back, startled, meeting Pedri's heavy gaze. He was standing, the key still in his hand, his jaw clenched.

“Are you okay?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“Who is he?” he asked directly, without beating around the bush.

"What?"

“The guy who had his hand on your waist at dinner tonight. The same guy who texted you last night.”

She closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. She knew exactly who he was talking about. And she knew where this was going.

“Are you jealous of Rafa?”

“I'm jealous of the guy who is clearly hitting on you and you pretend not to see it.”

“Don't pretend anything. I just don't see the world the way you do.”

“Oh no? Because everyone at that table saw it. Only you were too busy laughing at his jokes.”

“Because I was trying to be polite! I don’t even like him like that! Why do you always have to create drama?”

Pedri paced around the room, restless. He glanced around as if he were looking for something to hold on to, something that would help him not explode.

“I’m not making anything up. I’m just saying it hurts to see you opening up to another guy like I’m not there. Like he can make you laugh more than I can.”

She felt the pain beneath the surface. It wasn't just anger—it was insecurity, pure and raw.

“I never meant to hurt you. But you’re projecting things that aren’t there. I’m not with him. I’m with you.”

“But for how long?” he asked, his voice breaking at the end.

That hurt. It hurt because it felt fragile. Like he didn’t trust that what they had was real enough to withstand a conversation with another man.

“Do you really think I’m going to leave you for someone I barely know? What kind of person do you think I am?”

He sat on the couch, covering his face with his hands. He didn't answer. He just took deep breaths, trying to compose himself. She stood for a moment, unsure whether to leave or sit next to him. In the end, she chose to stay.

“I’m not perfect, Pedri. But I choose you every day. And if that’s not enough, maybe we need to think about what we’re doing here.”

He took his hands from his face and looked at her. His eyes were red, but not from crying—from wounded pride.

“I don’t want to think about it. I’m just… afraid of losing you. I’ve never cared about anyone like this before.”

She sat down slowly, without touching him yet.

“Being afraid is normal. But you can’t let fear turn you into a person who distrusts everything. Otherwise, you’ll end up pushing away the very people you want to be around.”

He looked at her more calmly. The anger seemed to have turned to regret.

“I was an asshole.”

"He was."

“And you’re still here.”

She gave a half smile.

“Because I’m stubborn. And because I love you, even when you act like a possessive jerk.”

Pedri approached, hesitantly, and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were softer now, his features relaxed.

“I promise to try to be less of an idiot.”

“I promise nothing,” she replied, with a teasing smile.

They laughed together, finally. And he pulled her into a tight hug, as if silently apologizing. They stayed like that for long minutes, breathing in the same rhythm, feeling the warmth of a new beginning.

In that room full of tension now dissolved, Pedri understood that loving also meant learning to trust. And she understood that sometimes the other person's fear just needed a little more patience.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinott @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[toriaaniin]

Bless Your Heart, Feroci0us

Today I received a DM from someone with the username feroci0us, which frankly sounds like a Pokémon who’s been given a social media login and a superiority complex. The message:

“I read two of your blogs and you are so far up on your delusion 😭 please leave Nicola alone. She was never pregnant. Stop talking about her body. Don’t you have a grandkid to spoil? 🙄”

There’s a lot to love here — the confidence, the drama, the emoji deployment. But let’s start with the most important part: I don’t have a grandkid to spoil. I know, devastating, right? What’s a woman of a certain age to do with her time if she’s not shuffling about in orthopedic shoes baking banana bread for someone else’s toddler. (I make a mean banana bread, btw.) Also... what a curious thing, to shout at me for “talking about a woman’s body” while simultaneously assuming what mine is for. Hmmm.

Apparently, now that I'm over 50 I’m supposed to retire from curiosity, from having thoughts, from making observations — especially about a woman I admire. One whose story, quite frankly, was told on a public stage and then layered in mystery. If pointing out the inconsistencies makes me “delusional,” then I guess I’ll be over here with my reading glasses and my spreadsheet of receipts, living my best life.

Here’s the truth: aging doesn’t dim your instincts — it refines them. And the older I get, the more I realize that my voice is not only valid, but valuable. Because I’ve seen a few things. I’ve made mistakes, asked questions, learned from silence. And no, I won’t apologize for applying that wisdom in this space.

So no, dear feroci0us, I don’t have a grandchild to spoil. But I do have a sharp eye, an open mind, and a lifetime of insight to offer.

You’re welcome to stay and learn from it — or scroll along in peace.

Aaniin 🤍

[fromchaostocosmos]

People are not perfect.

As in people make mistakes.

As in people are still learning.

As in people can sometimes be doing their best and trying their best and yes there is room for improvement and we can recognize both things.

As in people don't speak the same language.

As in people are learning something for the first time.

As in people have disabilities of all kinds which yes can impact in this too.

For example growing up I didn't really know anything cis or trans and sex vs gender. I knew that straight and gay. When I was teenager I eventually learned about bisexuality and something called transgender.

But again didn't really know all that much. But I did my best as best I could.

There was a point when I thought I was I being accepting and I was still new and learning and it was at a time that I still thought I wanted children. So I would say "oh I have nothing against anyone who is transgender and I think they should use whatever bathroom is most comfortable to them, but I wouldn't marry anyone is transgender because I want to have children who biologically mine"

At the time I was still learning and I didn't understand how that was still not just unhelpful, but rather actively unhelpful and in many ways a cruel thing to say.

Thankfully I was able to learn. Some people were kind enough to help me and direct me where I could learn and I was also able to read about people's first hand experiences and that was helpful.

Others were not as kind and in my truly meaningful attempts to learn and understand where in what I thought was I going wrong and how I could I do better and where could I learn more I was greeted with great cruelty and mockery which was hard at that point in my life.

That isn't to say I don't understand why those people did what they did. I get it sometimes that can defense mechanism.

I do like to think or hope that I sounded earnest and sincere in questions, but you never know how tone can come across sometimes.

I will always be thankful to the many people who helped knowingly and unknowingly in my education, an education and learning process that is never over.

We have to understand that not everyone is going to have the same experiences and education. What counts is the intent rather the how well it is communicated I think.

Because sometimes people are trying their best in with what they have.

Again for example I was asked by someone IRL "why the did Hitler hate the Jews?" now most of the time a question like that I would be offended by IRL because that is really stupid question to ask.

But in this case I was not because I knew this person was not asking to be hateful or in that ha ha type of way. Rather they were being sincere. They were an immigrant to the USA and came from a country that has no Jewish people in it and no Holocaust education.

So from them this was question out of sincerity and a desire to understand. They didn't know how to ask it in a different way, better way, or a way that was less offensive.

This was them doing the best with what they had. And I understood that and could work with that.

We have to have room for nuance and understanding and at time even compassion.

This is not me saying take trolls at face value or use up your energy on those who have come clearly in bad faith. No, those don't deserve any time or energy.

It is for all the people who are trying that if you have the energy, ability, and time we should be because that is where the differences are made.

So help if help is needed, answer questions if that is what is asked, provided resources if you can, and listen to experiences and stories even when it might told not in the most perfect of ways or with the most up to date terminology.

Because again people are not perfect, people are trying their best, and there is always room for improvement. And all of these things can be true at the same time.

I was discussing the incident mentioned later in this piece with my wife yesterday and I saw another post by someone earlier doing something mentioned in here and I'm finally going to say something about it.

There is a serious problem in leftist spaces, especially online, especially on Tumblr, when it comes to language.

The way people are expected to speak just to even enter these spaces is incredibly complex, to the point of being outright hostile to those who haven’t already spent time in them. And it’s not just newcomers; people who have important things to say, people speaking from lived experiences, people who don’t have English as a first language but still deserve to be heard, are constantly talked down to or even pushed out entirely for not using the "right" words.

This gets even worse when you factor in how often new terms are coined in English, and then people are shamed for not immediately knowing or using them.

I saw someone reblog their own post saying something like, "I know for a fact more than half of y’all didn’t understand a fucking word I said here."

And honestly? That stuck with me, because yeah, I’ve felt that before. Not because I don’t value critical thinking! because I absolutely do! I just made a post on that too! but because so many of these posts are written in a way that makes them Functionally Inaccessible to anyone who doesn’t already have the right background knowledge. And at a certain point, if you actually want your words to have an impact, if you actually want to create meaningful change, then you’re going to have to accept some things:

People will not always use perfect language.

2. People will not always know the exact terminology you personally prefer they use when engaging in discourse.

3. Dismissing or attacking people for how they say something, instead of engaging with what they’re saying, is actively harmful.

And more than that, if you genuinely want people to understand and engage with the things you’re talking about, especially people who don’t speak English as a first language, especially people without access to higher education, especially people who don’t even know where to begin when it comes to self-education (because yes, that is a skill that has to be taught) then you are going to have to be the one to adjust sometimes. You are going to have to let people say things imperfectly. You are going to have to take a step back and engage with the message rather than just the words being used to express it.

One of the experiences that made me realize that I, as a non-native English speaker, was not welcome in Tumblr leftist spaces was when I spoke about real-life oppression I had experienced. I left one word out of my post, a word which honestly, was not even important when talking about an incident that had Happened To Me, not theory, not hypotheticals or any what-ifs of oppression, a story, a story about something that happened to me.

And because of that, people sat in a Discord server, picking apart my words, accusing me of awful things, and then came into my askbox throwing jargon and buzzwords I’d never even heard before, then got mad at me for being frustrated that this was happening.

Think about that. People who are directly impacted by oppression are being pushed out of spaces meant to discuss it because the way they speak doesn’t conform to certain expectations. That is not justice. That is not solidarity. That is not progress.

There is a fundamental disconnect here between theory and praxis. Ironically so many of you do not know what praxis is, because most of you engage with a lot of theory, and not a lot of praxis, you use the word praxis a lot, but, ironically, you have no idea what it means.

{to put my money where my mouth is, it means Doing Something, in the simplest possible terms}

In theory, leftist spaces should be accessible. They should be places where people can speak openly about their experiences, learn from each other, and work toward meaningful change. But in practice? There’s a gatekeeping of language so intense that many people, particularly those who are marginalized in ways beyond just their political beliefs, are outright excluded.

And this is something I need people to sit with: The assumption that the "right" language is easy to learn, or that anyone who doesn’t use it is being willfully ignorant, is an inherently privileged stance. Knowing where to find information, how to process it, and how to integrate new terminology into your vocabulary is a skill that is largely tied to education. Having the time to engage with leftist literature and theory, to stay up-to-date on every new term that gets introduced, is also a privilege. And the fact that so many people refuse to acknowledge this, that they expect perfect articulation from everyone, regardless of background, and punish those who don’t measure up, is a huge problem.

Worse still, the same people who act as gatekeepers of this language often fail to communicate their ideas in a way that is accessible at all.

This doesn’t mean that complex ideas should never be discussed. It doesn’t mean that people shouldn’t strive for accuracy in their language. But it does mean that if your goal is to educate, if your goal is to spread awareness, if your goal is to help people understand and join the movement, if your goal is to engage with fellow oppressed people, then you have a responsibility to meet people where they are. You have a responsibility to make your language understandable.

Because if people can’t even process what you’re saying, then what’s the fucking point?

And before anyone says, "Well, people should put in the effort to learn!" Let me make something very clear: They do.

People who are new to leftist spaces, or who are coming in from different linguistic and cultural backgrounds, are often trying their best to engage. They are listening, they are learning, they are processing. But if the response to every mistake, every slightly off phrasing, every unfamiliarity with a new term, is immediate hostility,

or even if it's just 'hey I see you're sharing a personal moment, but can you change your language to make me, personally, more comfortable with you discussing your oppression?' then you’re not teaching.

You’re just making sure only the people who already think and speak exactly like you get to stay in the room.

Your language, your terminology, your theory? none of it means anything if you can’t make it accessible to the people who actually need it. And it means nothing if you use it to Exclude rather than Include.

[imfierylilac]

Remember when I said that Duke might be an orphan? Well, I decided to dig deeper into that theory — and I found quite a few clues.

Duke seems a little obsessed with being noticed. He constantly seeks attention, throws himself into wild adventures, puts on a show. Sure, maybe he just enjoys it — but what if it goes deeper than that?

Orphaned children who grow up neglected often learn to stand out in order to be seen. And that’s exactly what Duke does: he keeps standing out to feel acknowledged and important.

He also shows a strong dislike for the upper class, which could stem from having grown up in poverty himself.

Duke has serious trust issues. Orphaned kids, especially those who lacked stability, often pull away first or avoid getting too close to anyone at all — just like Duke. At first he was reluctant to accept Berenice and Eulalie into the team, and at first he had a hard time accepting Pluto.

He’s also a thrill-seeker, possibly because no one ever taught him that, say, letting someone throw knives at you or escaping a water tank while shackled isn’t exactly safe. No one was around to worry about his well-being — so he never learned to worry about it himself.

We know Duke is charismatic and flashy, but maybe that’s exactly because he had to fight for his place in the spotlight — and for attention.

Duke has an inflated self-esteem and an unshakable belief in his own views. “I’m better than the rest. I’m special. If they didn’t pick me — something’s wrong with them.” That could be a coping mechanism shaped by a toxic childhood situation. It helped him survive, but now it holds him back from building trust, admitting mistakes, or forming healthy relationships — because that would threaten the identity he built around his self-worth. We also see this steadfastness reflected in how Duke never doubts his plans, no matter how dangerous they may be.

He’s bold, even cheeky at times — and that boldness is how he stays in control. He hates being cornered. A joke, a snarky comment, a challenge — it’s all about taking the lead, being the one who speaks first. That way, no one sees his fear or insecurity. We see this very clearly when he tried to negotiate with Montresor.

Of course, all of this is based on indirect clues — nothing is confirmed. But honestly, I really like this theory. It just makes a lot of sense to me.

[lustlovehart]

i love the lil drabble with Monster!Mc learning to speak!! their voice must be raspy tho from not talking i imagine that some (if not all) the twst guys try to get M!Mc to repeat "I love you" back to them

AHHH that’s so cute!!!

Maybe you completely understand what the word “I love you” implicates, knowing full well it’s the phrase humans would say to their mates. Yet, you truly believe they’re making you say it because they’re trying to teach you their pronunciation! Totally not them trying to make you say something so...

Maybe they’ll even take your chin and guide you through the pronunciation. Every time they sound a syllable, their thumb pulls your chin down to say it with them. Sometimes they’ll run that same thumb across your bottom lip if you say something wrong, telling you to try again.

(Some of them might even “accidentally” cut their thumb, so the smell and taste of blood on his skin entices you)

You know how incredibly… intimate the words I love you are, you’re not stupid. You’ve roamed the world for hundreds to thousands of years, yet you can’t bring yourself to reprimand them for doing something so romantic despite your positions. Besides, maybe they’re just teaching you so you can use it for when you find someone you love (Which better be them).

They know you know :), but you’re not fighting back. If anything, this is the most docile you have ever been with them. So, they’ll contiue this charade until they can hear those three lovely words escape from your throat.

Characters Like Rollo and Sebek however, aren’t doing it one purpose. They’ve just unconsciously been using the words Love and You more often around you than they usually would. Though, they claim to everyone if you told them the words I love you, they would be revolted and hunt you down on the spot. Unfortunately for them, it’s not the case, because when you do, they’re both short circuiting. You mistake their silence for disapproval at your pronunciation, so when they finally come to, you’re at their ear whispering the same words.

You’re stuck there for 2 hours, waiting to make sure the monster hunter wakes up soon.

Imagine it gets to a point where you have to carry him back yourself. It’s entirely humiliating for him when he wakes up knowing you brought him back. Meanwhile everyone else is staring at him, an all too familiar scent on his uniform…

[theemporium]

I can’t believe her friends think they can cover up what happened by saying she “stole a couple fics over the years” but she’s sorry now and she’s grown in the *checks calendar* month since this happened. Those same friends refused to hold her accountable and continued to send her anons and fuel her over inflated sense of importance, making her whole apology in the first place null and void. She isn’t ever going to learn because she is constantly having smoke blown up her ass by people who refuse to acknowledge what she did and think her crying in private to THEM justifies what she did to all the writers and people whose content she plaigarized.

She continuously stole multiple fics after being called out on multiple occasions, knowing the severity of the situation and not giving a fuck, ignored anyone who DID call her out, had her friends make posts about it all just being “hate” and that it isn’t tolerated, and has had her friends deal with the whole fallout since.

Stealing fics is the cherry on the cake too, her whole presence on here was built on stolen content (she even made text posts of stolen tweets so this sugary sweet personality she gives off probably isn’t even hers in the first place) and generated by AI - and anybody downplaying that fact when we don’t even know at the surface which content that was because she deleted her blog and ran to clear the evidence (a blog which at the time was engaging people in heavy kink discussions based around her fics and glamorizing seriously dangerous and unhealthy sexual acts that could result in literal damage to the body) has been brainwashed by her whole act.

The whole situation was disgusting, how it was handled by her friends at the time and is still being handled by them is disgusting. You can’t just block anyone who speaks out about it and say it wasn’t their place and it was just seeking drama when that girl rocked this community and didn’t care to face up to the consequences.

And announcing a comeback through another person without even arranging to make a post yourself is so unabashedly stupid. It’s so obvious she hasn’t learned a thing or she wouldn’t still be hiding behind her friends and their insistence to call anyone who speaks out a hater. @/kawhh is making herself and her friend look even worse.

The sad thing is that people will fall for it all again though because they’re creating their own narrative. It’s a hard pill to swallow as someone who has been in this community for so long to watch her avoid responsibility again and again.

I really couldn’t have said it better myself!!

the one positive that has come from this situation has been the anons I’ve received on this blog seeing right through her bullshit. I have seen the backlash other blogs are getting, trying to defend her and play down the whole situation. but it’s so refreshing to know everyone I’ve spoken to in this blog has been able to see its utter nonsense and insanity

and I think as long as there’s a group of us who don’t give a shit about her or her friends or the hate they send people calling them out, then we can at least try to prevent it from happening again. the people in the past made the mistake of being decent to her and reaching out privately to sort things out (and I don’t blame them for being nice, respectful humans). but if she has no shame, then I see no issue in calling it out publicly

ESPECIALLY when it comes to the dangerous kinks and sexual content the lot of them are pushing. even if us posting about it helps one wee brainwashed cult follower of theirs to see how dangerous and wrong it is, then at least it’s doing something

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hello!!! <3 regarding the last raverne=crowley post, i wanted to say that i never really understood the lilia and voice-related contradictions...

like, raverne has long been considered dead, even by lilia, though he is technically "missing in action". lilia is not looking for him or his body anymore and has probably long come to terms with the fact that his friends are dead-dead, so would he really immediately think that a person of similar apperance and/or character is raverne? like, bro doesnt even mention how raverne's not present at the ceremony at the end of book 7 💀 not to mention that it's been centuries since the human-fae war and many things about crowley-raverne's appearence/demeanor/ect could've changed and about the voices not matching - i always thought lilia said they sounded familiar because they both have masculine voices??? its a weird comment anyway. its not like malleus sound like his mother, so they do have similar inflexions i think? anyway, discussing this theory must be tiring lol. as you said, there's much more speculation than real material to work with. we just have to wait and see i hope i didnt come off as mean or contrarian bc im was in no way trying to change your opinion lol!!! have a good day <3

[Referencing this post!]

No worries, thank you for sharing your thoughts. I can definitely clarify my points from the previous post!

Even if Lilia had long considered Raverne dead and was no longer actively looking for him, surely Lilia would still comment at some point about how the headmaster seems familiar to him somehow??? Or that he at least reminds him of Raverne?? After all, he still very clearly has fond memories of his Raverne in his mind. Lilia doesn’t have to automatically clock Crowley as one and the same as his old friend, but he would at least express similarities—which he hasn’t a single time yet.

Raverne not being in the book 7 dance party also does not make sense to me. For example, if both Silver Owls and nocturnal fae are present and acting pleasant in Castle Wildrose, then these memories would have to be from an era of peace or negotiations between the two. And like??? Would you trust Maleanor to handle these interactions on her own…? Why isn’t her diplomat and husband that she relies on also present for this important meeting? Is Lilia just… able to summon two memories from different points in time (one where Maleanor was happy in the castle, one where the Silver Owls have taken over) and splice them up to merge into one?? It feels like Twst intentionally had Lilia not comment on Raverne’s absence—even though this would be a glaring detail—because Raverne might have relevance in book 8 or because the writers forgot about it or didn’t want to distract from the current scene. (On another note, I feel like that dance party took many creative liberties with how Lilia’s UM worked just to have a happy ending in which Malleus and Silver could make peace with their parents.)

The only way I can reason why Lilia wouldn’t recognize or view Crowley as familiar is if the mask was magically enchanted with illusion magic. But then this means Crowley/Raverne doesn’t have amnesia and knowingly ran away from his country + family and frequently forgets his own son (because how could he mistake Malleus’s face for anyone but his wife’s). This doesn’t pain him in the best light and only creates more plot holes to explain.

I do think it’s possible that Raverne could have drastically changed in the hundreds of years that he has been gone, but I think to assume he has is perhaps a jump. Unlike Lilia, who started off narrow-minded and disliked children but whose demeanor changed a lot after taking up the mantle of childrearing and his travels, Raverne is already pretty worldly (on account of being a diplomat) and open-minded. He may still learn things, sure! But I don’t think we’d see the same huge changes in Raverne that we see in Lilia. Fae also age different than humans, so I don’t think there would be a significant change in his appearance. Lilia didn’t have a significant change either—his hair’s just cut short and the streaks are a different color.

In 7-99, Lilia makes this remark: “That voice… Raverne? How are you back…? No, wait. You have Maleanor’s horns…”

I don’t think it makes sense for Lilia to mistake Malleus’s voice as Raverne’s just because they’re both “masculine”. If this were the case, why doesn’t Lilia mistake the “masculine” voices of the other people he is constantly around (Baur, his other nocturnal fae soldiers, the Silver Owls, etc.) as being Raverne’s voice?? There must therefore be qualities about Malleus’s voice in particular that call Raverne to mind.

Of course Malleus does not sound like his mother. Lilia doesn’t make such a comment; he states that Malleus is similar to his mother in appearance, but that Malleus also sounds like Raverne.

Now, whether Malleus and Crowley’s voices sound similar is completely subjective. However, I personally don’t think they sound alike at all, not even when Crowley uses his deeper “serious” tone of voice. Comparing the two, Malleus is notably a LOT deeper overall (I’d definitely call him a bass) whereas Crowley is leaning towards a tenor. I also find their inflections to be very different. Crowley has a tendency to pause or to let his words trill up and down, whereas Malleus’s words generally flow much smoother. Again though, this is subjective and there could be different interpretations from ear to ear.

There’s a variety of different spins on the Crowley = Raverne theory, with some having amnesia and others having Crowley being aware but intentionally hiding his identity for some purpose. But no matter which spin I come across, I always inevitably arrive with pretty big contradictions the theory doesn’t entirely explain. Like I said before, it’s a funny idea to entertain (Crowley + Raverne theorists picking through canon for clues with a fine-toothed comb), but I’m not seriously sold on it.

Let’s see if book 8 enlightens us…?

[rosmarinblooms]

I have no idea if this “earlier version of Taskmaster’s storyline” is true, but a) it doesn’t contradict what Eric Pearson says in his interviews; b) I simply like it. The movie could have been so much better.

1. Antonia lives! A disabled and disfigured character. A girl learning to live after being treated as an instrument. Yay! Good! She has an arc here.

2. Ava too has an arc, becoming sisters with Antonia. Also, Ava has a past between «Ant Man and the Wasp» and «present days». She was busy learning to live after years of captivity. She made mistakes (working for Val), but she’s trying. She has a story!

3. The relationship between Antonia and Ava could have been a nice reflection of a connection between Yelena and Bob.

4. Antonia vs Bucky fight sounds delicious! This scene might have been cool and extremely funny at the same time. Also, Bucky uses his brains here. His most potent weapon is not a cyber-arm but his mind. (In the real movie he is uncharacteristically not the brightest bulb in the area).

5. Bucky interacts with Antonia, he has an emotional reaction! He connects with other human being!

6. And he actively decides to help the team, to become a part of it.

(In the actual movie he sort of goes with the flow. He does the things he had been told to do. His big motivational speech is so vague and obscure, that I’m lost for definite meaning of it).

7. At this point it seems Antonia is the glue keeping the team together. The heart of it.

8. Why did they cut her? The director’s explanations are… Well, I'll just cite them from the EW:

"And when we all got back in the room, once the strike was over, and we were thinking about how to improve it, it really felt like the movie seemed just a little bloodless."

"For who these characters are, it should live up to those movies that have attention to 'em, where you really don't know who's going to survive it," Schreier says. "I know that's tricky in today's era where things get out before movies, but within the context of the film, it felt like we needed to take a swing like that so that you didn't really know who was going to make it, and also so that it was clear that it could have been any one of them."

"The decision to do it when we did it, we went through a lot of different versions of that, and we thought very carefully about it," the director explains. "And it felt like, while it would've been very nice — and Olga is a wonderful actress — to have her on the team for longer, that death would've kind of reverberated a lot harder and made it harder to find our tonal balance if it had happened later in the film."

He continues, "And it would've occupied such a kind of more emotional space that would've stepped on what we really need to be building. And we have so little narrative real estate to do it, which is the connection between Yelena and Bob, and the movie is really going to hinge on that. And so in order to keep our tone and to build that team together, it actually felt best, even if it feels a little cold-blooded, to have that happen early."

I see a contradiction. They killed Antonia after 1 minute just for cheap shock. To raise the stakes, to show no one is immune to utter destruction, and… they killed her early, so it wouldn’t be really important for the viewers?

So did they want a shock or not?

If they did, they chose the least known character to tell “anyone could die”. The audience had no time to get used to her, to know her, so her death doesn’t really raise the stakes. They could have killed Bucky. Now THAT would have been a shock.

OR if they didn’t want Antonia to make an impact… Why is she even in this movie? Why do you create a story, consciously making part of it not worthy “the emotional space”?

This is such a bitter irony. Oh, we have so many girls, so we’ll just kill one of them (preferably the disfigured one) pointlessly for viewers to gasp for half a second. Hurra! Now we have more time to explore insecurities of BOYS, precious white boys of bad behavior.

Erasing girls and, with them, erasing human interactions. Who cares.

[ramblingdumplings]

To continue the post I wrote yesterday, I have more things I need to get out of my chest 😅

This is going to get anti K*stle. If you don't like that, please just don't read it.

I said yesterday that Matt, Karen and Frank remind me of Gale, Peeta and Katniss' dynamic and I have a few reasons to say that.

One being that it was pretty clear Suzanne never wanted a love triangle in the first place, but her editor suggested and we all know how the book business world works, she didn't have the power to say no then so she obliged.

But if you sit down and read THG, it becomes very obvious who the main pairing and who the person Katniss would end up with was Peeta, and that Susanne already knew that from the get.

We could go on and on about Doylist vs Whatsonian motifs and theming but I'm frankly not in the mood for that and I think you guys will understand the point I'm trying to make here.

I believe that when the showrunner talked about the love triangle, he first and foremost used ample terminology to talk about the dynamics but he also used to most lively gain traction.

I don't think there's any point in denying that Karen might have feelings for Frank, I don't particularly care for how far they're willing to go in addressing said feelings, but I do question if they steem from genuine love or the illusion of Karen constantly thinking she can save Frank somehow, because quite frankly, most of their relationship reads as her thinking she can save him and that's her responsibility to do so when it's not.

Frank, like Gale, is blinded by hatred and anger. And that's not to say Karen doesn't have her issues or that she's perfect because she's not, but Karen's flaws while human and bluring the lines, she's also consumed by those aspects the same way Karen and Frank both are.

But it's also a matter of how they deal with those darker parts of themselves that plays a role into that. Because Karen's sense of justice and right and wrong is strong, and just because she understands Frank's desire for vengeance and she can relate to it to some extent, I think she understands it's a slippery slope.

I think Karen is coming to the realization she can't save someone that doesn't want to save himself and that seems all too willing to die fighting that war and I don't think she's willing to compromise more of herself at this point.

She might not realize that yet, but part of Karen's arc is, like Matt, to accept good thing and gentleness and hope. It's to embrace them, to learn that she does deserve to have a gentle life, that nothing needs to involve pain and suffering and that whatever mistakes she thinks she's made, she deserves to be happy too.

They all do. The only thing is which of them are willing to do the work to make that happen?

What character most satisfies the other characters needs and their arcs. Because Karen deserves more than to be a transactional object that is embedded with hope so she can serve as Frank's "after " and they'd have to do a lot to convince me that's not all she'll end up being if they choose to have her with Frank.

She's not a crutch, she's not someone that deserves to spend her life on the run (because that's what'd happen if she ends up with Frank). I need to believe that these choices would make sense with Karen's core needs/wants and traits and so far, I have to say it doesn't.

What's she supposed to do? Hide? Give up every aspect of herself that she loves? And who's to say Frank would do the same for her? How is that fair to her? How is fair that not only she has to give up her career, her whole life, to be with a man who is still the same man he was before, but with more pain and somehow even more jaded?

After all the shit she's been through, doesn't Karen deserve to have a life that flourishes? Doesn't she deserve to have some semblance of light and hope? Everything in Daredevil is already so dark, so full of lies and deceit and mistrust... Doesn't she deserve to be who she wants to be? To do what she wants to do?

I understand that Frank may love Karen and that she might feel something for her. I get that he's been through shit and we all want him to be happy, but honestly, I'm going to steal one line from Cora, Frank will never be happy again. He doesn't know how.

He can't let go of what happened to his family, he still hears their voices urging him to use violence, he still feels their losses and obviously that's normal, but he's not willing to let go of this hatred.

Karen might see good in Frank, we might see good in him, we might understand why he does what he does, we might empathize with him and feel for him and still understand that he might not be as good for Karen as one would think.

That's not to say Matt is any better, because I don't believe in deserving someone's love or someone being better or worse, but I do think that what Matt has going for him is that even if he fails and does things he shouldn't do, he still tries to be better and to evolve.

The character arc of him seeking help in the end of DDBA is huge for someone like Matt and it shows us the effect Karen has on him.

I will care if Karen ends up with current Frank, and I don't see a way of changing that much to the point of having any significance on the story.

Matt has similar issues with anger and with dealing with the sense of injustice, but it's how he has begun to mater all these feelings and to yield them that I think it's telling of who Matt is. I think it's way too simple to say he doesn't kill because he's Catholic, obviously that was one part of his struggle, but it wasn't the full scope of it.

It limits the argument because is not just that Matt is worrying about condemning his sould (tbh I do think he believes he's condemned already) but I think it's just Matt struggling because of how good he is. He has flaws, he's not perfect, he's an hypocrite and a liar and he's made mistakes but who hasn't?

What I love about him is that even when Matt is at his worst, he still finds his way back. It's the resilience and strong will and goodness in him that allow him to be more than what others expect him to be.

Narrative wise, Karen has been set up as someone very similar to Matt and that understands all of his intricacies and idiosyncrasies.

And I truly think that the showrunners already know how the story will end, so do the writers. I think they might play with the triangle just to drive up discourse outside of the narrative, but I don't think anything meaningful will come out of it simply because it'd need a lot of work and tinkering to make any sort of sense, story wise.

I just don't want them to betray Karen's character just so she can serve as a consolation prize because poor Frank, he lost his family. It'd be such a terrible move to make and if they truly wanted that, they should have done it a long ass while back and not now.

We can't unring the bell of Frank's character, or Karen's, or honestly of even the danger he's put het through.

I leave you all with the last passage of The Hunger Games: Mockinjay because I truly think it translates well what I'm trying to say.

[dollopole]

I agree, and I’d like to add something too!

Another thing people in the fandom might fail to consider (not judging) is that Morgana is a noble.

Yes, a ward under the protection of Uther’s and with no family left (that we know of, until we find out how untrue that is) but still of a class way higher than Merlin. She is Uther’s favourite child, in a very toxic, unhealthy way. When Uther comes to know that Morgana helped a sorcerer escape, he just scolds her, and not even directly, which means she can get away with many things.

Merlin needed to protect himself.

I know we see Merlin as this big, powerful guy who is just invincible (true), but he can co-exist with a guy who is very young and scared and vulnerable, and who doesn’t know the true strength of his own powers (also true).

Because just like Merlin is close to Arthur, he is even less close to Morgana, and yes, he sees her as a friend of sorts, but he is still wary of her, given that she is not only Uther’s daughter but his ward, whom he could have lost too, which only made Morgana more the puppeteer.

She could say anything and Uther would fall for it like the oblivious man he is.

Morgana does not care about repealing the ban on magic, and we see it in the show, light as day. She cares about everyone equally because she is decent, true, especially in the first season, but I also see her caring in a more, “I need to do what is right, just to go against Uther/just to spite some nobles” way (in the later seasons).

The moment she learns she can have a shot at being queen, she takes it. And no matter how much Arthur loves her, how much Gwen or even Gaius love her, she does not care and tries to kill them multiple times just to take the throne.

And once she takes the throne, she is a tyrant just like Uther. She kills and dictates just because she wants the people to listen to her.

She cares about power, and whether that power can be given to her by magic or not, that’s not important to her.

Morgana just wants to rule.

Also, Merlin and Gaius know she is an High Priestess. Only because we have a parameter with Merlin, it does not mean that Morgana is not powerful. Morgana IS powerful, or else it wouldn’t have taken Merlin so much time to kill her (it can also be because deep down, Merlin doesn’t want to do it, but Morgana defeats him multiple times).

Even in the later seasons, just to know who Emrys is and to be able to kill Arthur and finally get the throne to rule over Camelot, Morgana kills people with magic too, and not just any people.

Peaceful people that had lived under a reign with magic for years!

What I dislike about the trope is that: a good Morgana is out of character. So it doesn’t make sense to make her good, and so whatever or not Merlin told her, it doesn’t change the trope designed for her in the show.

In my opinion, in fics, we can make a good Morgana, in a sort of fix-it, re-write way, (because let’s be honest, they fucked up her character pretty bad), but she still needs to be not-perfect. She needs to make mistakes, she needs to be brutal in her love, and she needs to go against everything she knows anyway.

And who said a Good!Morgana can’t kill Uther? Exactly! We also need to understand what we mean by “good” and “bad”, because for me, someone trying to kill Uther IS AN ANGEL AND A MIRACLE ON EARTH!

She was meant to be the villain. And she was a good one. What I personally don’t like is how we go from Good!Morgana to Villain!Morgana.

It could have happened differently, that’s for sure.

*drums rolls* And here it comes, BBC Merlin inconsistency to fill in plot holes!

Morgana was a puppet under Morgause’s control, and then changed drastically, not caring one bit about either Gwen or Arthur. At first, she cared about magic, and about treating everyone as an equal, and then she just didn’t give a flying fuck.

So that might be what bothers people too, (and what bothers me, personally) and why many in the fandom try to make her “good” (again, not judging, just something to think about. Everyone writes and reads whatever they prefer most!)

So, I've been reading this Merthur fic, and it nade me think about something that I think most people on the fandom would disagree on, but I would love to see if there are people who might agree with me.

Many people on the famdom think, that had Merlin told Morgana about his nagic when she confessed to hin about thinking that the fire that was in her room was caused by her doing magic, than it would've caused Morgana to stay good, and that Merlin owed it to her, to tell her about him having magic since birth.

Two things that I find wrong here: 1. I don't think that Merlin owed Morgana anything, especially telling her his most kept secret, one that could've ended up with him sentenced to death by the pyre. Merlin might've considered telling her, and yes, he was stopped by Gaius, but, still, Merlin was taught all his life that his magic should stay concealed, should not be revealed to anyone. Beacause if the wrong person found out, it could end in his death. That is a fear that could not go away fron a person. And yes, she might've been his friend at this point, but Merlin didn't want to tell anyone about his magic, beacause of fear for his life. And you can't blame him for not telling her about his magic. Heck, Merlin only told Arthur, his soulmate, at the end of the bloody series, and he cares more about Arthur's opinions on him, and hated lying to him more than lying to Morgana.

2. Remember the fact that Morgana almost killed Uther in season 1? She was starting to be less good at this point of the series, until she became the villan that we all know. What if Merlin would've told her, and then she could've decided to betray him when it fit her? If Morgana had this knowledge on season 3, even after the end of season 2, she would've made sure that Merlin woul've been sentenced to death by Uther. And I'n sorry, but I don't think that her knowing about his naguc, would've stopped her fron turning evil.

Would love to see if other people share my opinion, please comment.

[lucihens]

this a very unnecessarily philosophical, potentially verbose, written by a barely 20 odd year old with the mental age of a 10 year old whose innate logic comes directly from the autism gremlin in her mind take on tim bradford. you have been warned.

it's interesting that tim thinks he's been lying to himself and is mad at himself for seemingly actually being what he thinks he fundamentally isn't, rather than what he thinks or thought he was. but he doesn't understand that he can't be fundamentally anything in respect to action and nature. he can't define who he is as a whole as one clear cut, unchanging thing that he lives by for the rest of his life. because that's the complete opposite of what human nature is in my opinion. his personality may be consistent. but his nature never will be. because it changes. ALL THE TIME. pretty much everyday your processes change even a little bit with new information you gain. who you are now is not who you were last week. and while you may have a strict and specfic moral law in which determines the way you act in the long run, the decisions you make and the way you act (short term) depend on the moment. so tim is saying that what he did in the moment back in the army, and what he did in the moment dealing with ray, and what he did in the moment lying to IA, was him going against his code and who he thought he was, and that must therefore mean that who he has been consistently in the past was actually all a lie, was him pretending to be something he wasn't just because he did somethings 'out of character'. i don't think he can understand that being as strict and by the book as he is is not actually a sustainable human trait. because many instances call for many different reactions. but him setting such rigid guidelines he must follow so he can actually consider himself a good man, has set him up to fail again and again in respect to his feelings of self worth. setting such high standards for himself that he'll never be able to live up to has made it so easy for his self-belief to falter, teeter, and completely fall off the edge. confusing his personality with his nature has made it practically impossible to realise that his actions, if flawed, reckless and bringing negative consequences, don't make him fundamentally flawed. fundamentally wrong and screwed up. he doesn't realise that actions merely add to the portfolio of a person's life, good or bad, and despite the contents of his biography, he is still worthy of love. because he is not fundamentally flawed, or a fraud, but a man who regularly shows empathy, and loves anyway, despite being told (by others, but mainly himself) he won't experience the same in return.

[cheesybadgers]

Ok, bear with me a bit on this one because they're not like-for-likes, but they do both involve dramatic bitches flouncing off and leaving notes:

Meanwhile, in OHDH chapter 4:

By the time Horacio awoke, sunlight was beginning to stream through the windows; a stark contrast to the darkness of his mood as the events of the last few days came flooding back to him.

He rolled over wondering if Javier was still asleep, but found his side of the bed cold and empty and the apartment silent. That was when he noticed it out of the corner of his eye; the light bouncing off a metallic object on the nightstand.

Horacio’s heart shattered before he’d even leaned across to confirm his suspicions. The necklace lay abandoned, with a scrawled note next to it that simply read “I’m sorry.”

He stared down at the note before balling it up tightly in his fist, his vision already blurring and his chest stuttering as everything hit him all at once. Not only had he lost his job and home and any chance of catching Escobar, he had seemingly also lost the man he loved.

Now, obviously, in 9-1-1, Eddie doesn't actually leave and brings Chris and Pepa to visit Buck as a way to cheer him up and apologise for their fight, whereas in OHDH, Javier does temporarily bail but Horacio tracks him down in chapter 5, where they reconcile and it transpires Javier only ran away because he's scared of the depth of his feelings for Horacio:

The evidence was rapidly stacking up and Horacio deduced several things at once. Firstly, it wasn’t that Javier didn’t care; in fact, it was quite the opposite. More than he was apparently comfortable with, but his theatrics didn’t change the facts, nor he suspected would putting an ocean between them. Secondly, Javier clearly thought his disappearing act would be enough for Horacio to give up on him, forgetting that Horacio had no patience for such games and was far too tenacious to walk away now they’d come this far. Thirdly, he looked up at the clock by his bed and realised he still had time to fix this; and fourthly, he had a hunch he knew where Javier might have gone.

******************

“I know you got scared and that’s what these dramatics are all about. I know you expected me to give up on you because that’s what you think you deserve. I know you hated some of the things I did and wanted me to stop, but you also know it wasn’t that simple. And I know you let me give you the necklace in the first place for a reason…before you bolted, obviously.”

THEN, the whole fake-out Eddie does, which leaves Buck thinking he's really gone back to El Paso for some reason totally reminded me of OHDH chapter 9 when Javier runs off again but comes back to Horacio's apartment and Horacio thinks Javier hooked up with someone else but he didn't because he's so in love:

“I’m sorry I ran off too. Again. I should’ve been there for you.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, I understand. And I understand why you went…where you went tonight.”

“What? How did—?”

“Murphy came to see me after you left,” Horacio cut in before Javier could finish floundering. “You were right; he’s not stupid. He thinks I’ve got some sort of hold over you and seems to know you pretty well, too. Because he guessed where you went after.”

“Shit!” Javier's head dropped into his hand with a defeated exhale. “It’s not what you think.”

“Look, Javier, you don’t need to do this. I wish you wouldn’t push me away, but I get it. I deserved it.”

“No, wait, fuck! You’ve got it all wrong. Nothing happened. We just talked, that’s all.” Javier hesitated, undecided whether he should reveal the whole truth before throwing caution to the wind. “I did think about it on the drive there, though. But I couldn’t do it. And I don’t mean to – I don’t want to push you away.”

The specific whys/hows might not be the same, but the general tropes and the end result of the characters learning to stop running away from their own feelings and learning from their past mistakes because they want to make it work this time with their chosen person are essentially the same.

The way Pepa interacts with Buck is also very reminiscent of the way Javier's and Horacio's older family members interact with their relative's chosen partner, and also all of their conversations with Señora Romero (extra points for the parallel of said conversations taking place whilst washing dishes as well):

OHDH, chapter 18:

“Do you need to have it figured out yet?”

“Well, no, not yet. We’re okay financially for now. But I know it can’t last forever.”

“There’s plenty of time between now and forever, Javier.” Señora Romero lowered her voice as though she was letting him in on a coveted secret. “At your age, anyway. Less so at mine, but I take each day as it comes.”

“What’s that like?”

“There are good days and bad days. And bad weeks, months and years, come to think of it. Days when my body doesn’t do what my mind tells it to do. Days when my mind is frail, and my heart is sore. But on other days, I’ll spend time with the family. Or my piononos will come out better than they did last time. Or I’ll make new friends in unusual circumstances.” She winked in Javier’s direction. “I think the bad days are just part of life’s rich tapestry. Especially where healing wounds are concerned.”

And chapter 19:

Once all the cutlery, cups, and plates were washed, Horacio refilled the sink, a comfortable lull in conversation settling over them.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Señora Romero asked after she delivered a second load of dishes to be washed. “When I asked if there was someone back home.”

Horacio switched the tap off now the sink was full, concentrating intently on swirling soap suds and a cloth around the serving bowl he had plunged under water. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. You didn’t owe me an explanation then, and you don’t owe me one now. I understand when the newspapers have been no better than the days of Franco. And mark my words; those were dark, dark days.”

A righteous anger erupted from the surface in Señora Romero’s tone. It was one that Horacio had rarely heard but recognised and understood instantly.

“Spain’s old wounds,” he stated rather than asked.

“On good days, I like to think of it more as scar tissue.”

Notice how many of these tropes are coming thick and fast in season 8 now as well. Almost like we're building up to something...

Not to make everything about OHDH, but Eddie is not beating the Horacio parallel allegations...

“My Mamá, Elena, was the same after my Papá, Eduardo, died. I heard her crying at night sometimes, but she was always strong for me and Alejandra – my sister. So, I had to be strong for them. I thought I was the man of the house.” He scoffed at the absurdity of that statement, given how he was barely out of his teens at the time. “I took every promotion I could, just like he’d done. But it never seemed enough.”

******************

Horacio entwined their fingers on his leg because if anyone understood his apprehension, it was Javier. “I know. I just hate keeping it from her after everything we’ve been through. She would always make me soup if I was sick. And she looked out for me after Papá was gone. She taught me Mamá’s sudado de pollo recipe because it was one of Papá’s favourites. I liked to think I was the man of the house, but she loved reminding me she was my older sister.”

******************

“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”

“He thought it was his duty."

[ancha-aus]

Gifted Drabble - NewAgeAu - Q&A

As I said! I totally wasn't scheming :3 @spotaus

But i had to wait until you uploaded your drabble about very sneaky Cross to make sure I got more references and a better idea about his character :D

So... here we are :3 Also yes the name of the drabble is a very bad joke but i thought of it and it was too funny.

*------------------------------------------*

Cross just sits there... He is such an idiot!

Getting caught?! As quickly as he did? that must be a record on how incapable he was.

It wasn't as if Cross had an excuse. Dream and Blue warned him! Warned him that the Knights were very skilled and watchful. That he had to leave as soon as he got the information and plans. Do not linger!

That had been the mission!

Instead he was a coward and just. Took too long. He spend too much time trying to form a plan instead of just acting. And then He tried to solve mysteries himself instead of just grabbing and leaving as soon as he could!

But he just... Cross groans.

He hadn't found anything fitting the brief. He hadn't been able to find anything that spoke about hurting people or raising taxes to hurt the poor or anything!

In matter of fact.

All he found was plans to improve the infra structure. To tax the nobels more and lower the taxes on people who earned less. He found information on how the king had contact with farmers to work on more structures and installations to help farmers recover from the change in weather and to fully utilise the land without exhausting it.

Projects on testing mixed crop planting and stricts rotation schedules to make sure the soil itself wasn't exhausted from nutrients or risks infections or fungi growing which would hurt the soil and specific crops.

There was even this whole program about apprentices!! something about orphans and children and teens on the straights and a way to offer them schooling and housing and even training with the people helping them! That the crown would pay these people for helping those who don't have family to count on!

It is still in draft clearly as it had been covered with sidenotes in this very elegant and curve handwriting. notes about how to pay for it. where to start it. which people to ask for posibilities. but also notes about how to check the children. how to make sure the children and teens weren't use or abused or even worse!

And... well... not too shortly after that one of the Knights just... Sat in the chair and spoke casually... Scared the shit out of him at the time.

How was that dude so quiet?! or so strong for that matter?

How could his magic had backfired so badly?

Cross sighs as he turns to his side. He is an IDIOT. How could he have gotten so reckless?

Drema and Blue would have already been happy with him getting anything back from the king's plans... maybe he just couldnt see the danger in them clearly? Hell if he knows what the state in the country is. He knows nothing about this place.

Maybe the things he saw was a bad thing? Maybe there was some... weird way to make them look bad?

Like.

Maybe there was already little nature? Sure Cross saw a lot of it on his way here but hell if he knows? maybe there is little in the cities or soemthing?

Maybe the nobels are already being taxed a lot? maybe this will make the nobels all poor? and euh.... Cross isn't sure how taxing the poor less could be bad but maybe there is some way?

the farming thing... Well... Cross isn't sure... maybe the farmers don't want him to micro manage or soemthing? maybe the king is being too controlling about it? that works...

The children are obvious. those are vulnerable kids and teens! Who are being used and exploited!! Well... he would have to ignore all the sidenotes about the kids wellbeing... and the notes about banning child labor...

Cross groans. Why is it so hard to see the things he is doing as bad?! Dream told him that Nightmare is corrupted and the thing ruling now is evil and terrible and needs to be removed to save his twin!!

Then why are the plans good? Maybe he is faking it? But why? XGaster never bothered to fake anything... He was just rightfully the king and people should respect him.

Cross frowns as he turns on his side. Ignoring the guard standing well guard outside of his cell. He tugs on the magical blocker on his arm. Making him unable to use his magic to summon any weapon or try to take control over someone elses magic again.

Well... Not like he can try that with the guard guarding him again anyway. Seeing as it is Dust guarding him...

Cross tugs on it again and Dust speaks "Don't bother. Those things can't be removed by the wearer."

Cross freezes and looks over. He thought he had been sneaky enough. The one with the panther mask stares back.

Cross frowns as he turns back to the wall.

The Knight goes quiet again.

Cross tugs on the band one more time. Just to be spiteful. Before laying back and staring at the wall.

Fuck... He is going to die here? Isn't he?

Maybe they will just starve him...

Or maybe they will first torture him to figure out who he works for.

Cross is going to have to withstand it until he dies. He can't give up Dream and the fact he is planning a revolution.

He can't ruin another revolution that could save and help so many people.

He will have to be strong. Not give in. Not even an inch.

"I apologise I took so long Dust. Thank you for keeping watch."

Cross freezes at the new but familiar voice. Cross had heard the voice before. He had seen the owner walk around and had been getting information on him.

The king.

The fucking king.

Nightmare himself!

Why was the king here?!

Sure Cross had been spying and stealing information. But was that really such a big deal to get the king himself to interrogate him?!

Then again... Shed's tail had aparently been removed and used for cat toys...

He is so dead.

A click and the door to his cell slowly creaks open.

Cross's pulse is beating so fast.

Footsteps walking closer. before the door creaks closed. and is relocked.

He is so dead.

A few more steps and then silence for a moment as Cross tries to keep his panic at bay. He regrets staring at the wall.

"I know you are awake. Speaking will be a lot easier if we face each other."

Cross keeps laying there. What does he do?! He can't ignore him. Come on Cross. Be brave. You faced down scarier threats!

'But you had magic back then.' his mind whispers 'You had a way to defend yourself.'

Still. Cross sits up and turns around. Making sure he is glaring. He is not going to give in. "What is there to tell?" His voice holds the challange. He isn't afraid. He will not give in. He is not going to give this so-called king anything!

Nightmare tilts his skull slightly. intrigue clearly. Cross doesn't like the fact that he seems just so... unbothered by Cross. Cross is the enemy! He is sitting in the cell after Nightmare's forces found him snooping around, trying to steal information.

So why is this king staring at him with just intrigued! No rage? No disgust?!

Nightmare speaks again. Seemingly taking his time to think about his answers. trying to be actually truthful? or trying to think of an answer that Cross wants to hear? Wait... Is the king already in cross's head and mind? is Cross already being tricked?

Nightmare's voice breaks him out of his spiralled thinking "I think I disagree. there is a lot to talk about."

Cross tilts his skull upwards. stubborn energy in his soul "I won't tell you anything about who send me or why. No matter what!"

Nightmare looks slightly amused "I don't exactly care about who send you or why."

... what?

Nightmare continues, at his aparently obvious confusion, as he explains "I know there are people who wish to know what I am doing. I know people are scheming against me. It is nothing new. Even a spy as yourself is nothing new." he looks amused "The fact they even send you implies they know close to nothign about me, my land or my home. Or, that they don't care about you at all."

That.. that doesn't make any sense?!

Ngihtmare nods "I do apologise you swore your loyalty to those who know nothing of the target they send you to spy on. Otherwise they would have known that I am aware of what goes on in my castle and land." he smiles "they would have known that my Knights are everywhere and good at their jobs." he shoots Cross a look "They would know that i am aware of who is suposed to work where at which moment."

Cross feels his mind lock up as the information filters in... How... how hadn't Dream known this?

Ngihtmare waves a hand casually "You are a rather inexperienced spy. Not that it matters. As there is very little any type of skill could have done against me and those of mine. Either your employers know nothing of me which means they aren't much of a threat quite yet. Or they were willing to throw you away as some sort of test against me or you. Which just makes me unimpressed with them overall."

Cross just stares at the ground.

The Knight speaks softly "Way to ruin his worldview my king."

a moment of silence before "I apologise. I shouldn't have said those things. You did not deserve to hear those or have to worry about which case is true."

Cross snaps "Why am i not dead yet?!" He had heard about the terrible punishment this parasite of a king does. How he hurts people for jsut the hell of it... From Dream... form the guards working here... It makes no sense that Cross is still alive. Unless he wants to torture him of course...

A moment of silence.

Ngihtmare speaks a bit softer but still sure and confident "You meant no harm. You were here for a few days and no one was attacked. Neither myself, my knights, my servants or my people in the city. I do not see why i would punish you with death if you did not do a crime earning such a thing."

Cross glares up "And if i had hurt someone?" So he was just doing this own test?! this is just a test. That Cross can deal with. Cross can deal with someone trying to trick and test him!

The king chuckles and shakes his skull "It is very bold of you to assume you would have been able to hurt anyone. Just because we aren't obvious you were not walking around unnoticed or unwatched. If you had made a single move to hurt someone you would have been stopped and caught right away. I must admit however if you had tried that this conversation would be going very differently."

Cross frowns, wait... "If i moved to hurt someone? Anyone?"

Nightmare nods "Of course. The people who work for me are people who's safety i take very seriously. They are willing to work for me. in trade for their servitude i make sure they have what they need and want and more importantly. That they are safe to live their lifes." He sounds so certain and the answer is instantly.

He didn't even need to think about it.

Cross's mind is swimming as he tries to focus. This makes no sense... Why is he implying that he only punishes those who deserve it? That isn't waht others said. This... this is weird. This is the weirdest interrogation he has ever been part of. But he manages to find his voice again "What do you then even want to know?" It isn't like he knows anything.

Nightmare watches him "I am curious about the Lost Kingdom."

Cross flinches as he looks away. "It isn't called lost..." it isn't lost... it isn't! His... his brother- Nine is trying so hard to fix the mess Cross left behind. the mess Cross helped cause. It may be broken and a bit of a mess but it isn't lost. Lost implies there is nothing that can be saved from it.

A soft hum before he speaks again "I apologise. It is a name i took over from others." a moment of silence "I supose I am just curious what made the most loyal of knights of that land leave the country he was working on protecting."

Cross freezes. huh?

Nightmare waits for a moment but when Cross doens't answer he continues "It doesn't make sense to me. Your every move and motivation was from trying to protect the country you served. Yet here you are. Instead of there."

Cross looks to the side. He... he had tried to protect but he failed everyone. He always failed... He made the most terrible mistake of mistakes... How could he stay? they didn't want him to stay. He didn't deserve to stay after that.

Cross looks to the side and speaks "No one wanted the loyal dog of the tyrant to stay. so i left." there.

a moment of silence. "Seems a bit of a harsh name for someone who was loyal to the country."

Cross glares "I wasn't! I just did what the old tyrant wanted!" Like an idiot who can't think for himself. He just did whatever his father told him. Too blind and too stupid to see that XGaster was hurting others.

Nightmare continues to look at him "And you believed in him to make the right choices for the country. That is the job of a king. Make sure that what is done is done to improve the land. improve the country. improve life for the people. It is not your fault that XGaster didn't honour his rule. That he did not do what he was suposed to. What he was sworn into."

Cross can't hear this. Not form sometone who is suposed to be eveil but seems to know so much. Who seems to know what it means to be king yet who isn't suposed to care. Why is this thing who is possessing an innocent acting as it he cares? How would this thing know what makes a good king?!

Cross asks him as much. "Why do you care!?" it is more of a snap than a question.

Is it... Is it Nightmare? Influencing the thing brainwashing him and controlling him? Fighting back?

Dream would be happy to hear that.

Nightmare still thinks about the question. He looks ahead of himself with a tiny frown. Seemingly thinking.

Cross however can't help that notice how blue the cyan eye is. Clearly unnatural. Toxic even... Yet calm. There is no rage hidden that Dream warned him about. No edge of insanity or madness. Just calm and insightful thoughts. Control over his mind? but that makes no sense if he is brainwashed...

The body is not at all what Cross even expected to once see. Ngihtmare had this imposing presence. The fact his form was covered with a goop that had melted over one of his sockets didn't help. The way those tentacles on his back moved and idled. Seemingly without a single thought- wait... didn't octopusses have like... brains in each tentacle. Did that mean that Nightmare had five brains working and thinking for him?

Still... The corruption is so clearly... strange. Dream had told him that the powers given by the ritual was suposed to make a king and warrior of light. Of good. This form is proof that Nightmare wasn't suposed to gain this power. It is dark and moving and changing... But Cross can't help but think it doesn't look that bad, that the name corruption doesn't quite fit. It doesn't radiate any harm in anyway. Not like that time in the hall... Is... Nightmare able to control the presence it gives off? Why wouldn't he use it now? The slight magic he can still feel is potent and strong and unlike anything Cross ever felt before... But it isn't like other poisonous magics Cross had learned about. That he had trained to recognise. It is strange...

Cross decides to focus on the clothes he is wearing. It is clearly high quality stuff. not to forget the golden accents and actual bands around the tentacles. the clips with apple motifs. the detailing of branches like swirls in the same cyan colour as that eye, just less obvious because the fabric is slightly see through.

It makes for one intimidating image. One that the king carries with confidence and familiarity.

Nightmare speaks "I care because i wish to understand. We learn by understanding others. Even if i don't agree with someone doesn't mean i don't have to understand them. In matter of fact. the only way to truly disagree and be against something is to understand or at least know about the concept. When it is about why people do certain actions it is important to learn their motives and reasons. to understand why they did what they did before casting out judgement."

Cross can't deal with him... how is this suposed evil tyrant so understanding?

He is nothing like XGaster.

Nothing at all.

Cross can see that so clearly and so easily. This is someone who knows what he is talking about and who doesn't just say what you want to hear. Cross thought he knew what he was going into. He thought he would meet a man simular to XGaster.

Someone who manipulates. Someone who lies. Someone who turns every answer into a small insult. Someone who tells you how to think and why you are an idiot for not thinkinf like that from the start. Someone who believes himself to be perfect and not capable of fault.

Cross believed his father to be rightful in being this way and thinking that way for so long. It wasn't until after the revolution Cross finally noticed the cracks in the facade.

Cross thought... he figured he would be able to see through whatever mask Ngihtmare is wearing. Metaphorical of course. But he can't... he is failing. He can't figure this out.

Is... is cross being an idiot again? is Nightmare lying to him and is Cross still just unable to see it?

Or is there no mask to see through? no mask to spot the cracks in?

What does he do?

Nightmare waits and remains quiet until Cross actually focusses on him. When he does Nightmare speaks again "I wish to know what happened there. In your home."

His home...

"It isn't my home..." not anymore...

Nightmare nods and speaks again "Then what happened to the country that you used to serve and protect. What caused the downfall?"

Cross looks to the side "A revolution obviously..."

Ngihtmare nods and waits.

Cross glares "I was an idiot and could not pick a side. I couldn't fight my brother who lead the revolution but i could also not betray my lord. I ended up trying to help both yet messed everything up." he glares at the king "I made everything worse." all because he just couldn't pick.

Ngihtmare tilts his skull "Rather extreme. Thinking just one person can make or break a revolution."

Cross blinks.

Nightmare nods calmly "I am not saying that you couldn't have made it go better. That is always an option. However. A revolution... a rebellion. It is the same thing, and it is messy. it is dangerous. One person can not make things go perfect. that is impossible."

Dust coughs lightly into his hand. The king shoots him a look but nothing else happens.

The king turns back to him "You are not responsible for everything that happened. could you have helped? Yes. But... the choice that you made also enabled you to do the few things you could. the little bits you did to help your brother. If you had picked to defend the old tyrant. You would have had to hurt others."

Cross glares down "I know i should have helped."

Ngihtmare shakes his skull "That isn't what i am saying. the point i am trying to make is. You never know what you would have done in the other two situations. You could have joined your brother. but then you would have had to fight the very people you trained and fought beside before. The same people who know you through and through. who know how you fight and move." and he looks at him. "You helping them. either side of the conflict. would have meant you would have been at a different position at any given point. The things that happened wouldn't and couldn't have happened because your actions in this... neutral choice also had consequences and effect. It meant that XGaster stationed you as a guard. if you hadn't been available he would maybe have used two others to gain the same protection you gave him. You didn't stop the revolution when they got to you. instead there would have been two guards guarding the door." And nightmare give shim a moment to let that information sink in.

Cross stops... he... hadn't thought about... all he could think about is how he could have made things different. Thinking about how his skills could have helped specific moments... he hadn't considered that... him helping them from the start would have chanced everything...

and the moment where he could have helped... may never have even happened.

Cross shakes his skull "Things would have been better if i had picked a side."

The king considers it "Maybe it would have. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe by not picking a side you were able to do enough damage control for both sides that enabled it to even be successful. Maybe not picking a side made it last longer. You can not know which choice would ahve been better as you never saw the options."

Cross isn't sure what is even going on anymore. He had believed... He had been sure that him not making a choice just made everythign worse. Everyone agreed. Everyone must have agreed or else they wouldn't have made sure to remind him about his mistake each moment they could...

right?

Nightmare nods before getting up. Cross only now notices that Nightmare had been using his own tentacles as a chair "But I think I have pushed you too far already with my questions. You need rest and time to process and calm down. Food will be brought to you later." he turns towards the cell door and exits.

The king nods to the guard and starts to walk away.

Wait...

Wait!

Cross jumps up and rushes to the bars "Wait!"

The king stops and turns back to him "yes?" and he waits.

Cross pants "You said... Way before... at the start... There had been others like me. other spies. Where are they now?" Dream said others had been send before right? Or maybe even other forces. That Nightmare killed them?

Nightmare tilts his skull "My knights or I myself spoke to them. Much like I am doing wiht you. Those who meant no harm and held no wish to hurt those here... They were offered a change of scenery. They mentioned they couldn't and didn't want to return a failure to their old leaders. There is always room and a need for people willing to work and help."

Cross frowns "And those who did wish to return home?"

Nightmare looks unbothered "After making sure they were no threat they were released at the border. With a warning to not return. Once is an happening after all, one people can learn from. However if it turns out they lied or wished to return to do harm after all they were punished for their crimes."

Cross looks down as his mind spins "Oh..."

Nightmare waits for a moment longer before nodding "Rest up. I will come back either tomorrow or the day after to continue our conversation." he turns and leaves.

Cross slowly lets go of the bars and goes back to the bed in the cell... He can't help but notice that it is actually rather comfortable here.

Sure there are bars and he is locked in and unable to use magic...

But there is fresh air. Some natural sunlight comes in through the barred windows. It isn't cold or wet. There are warm blankets and soft places to sit...

Even if it is a jailcell. It is comfortable at least.

Cross rolls back up on the bed and thinks.

His mind going over the past conversation and thinking about what he learned. For it having been suposed to be a way for the king to learn about Cross it was just Cross learning about Nightmare.

What had the king even wanted to learn? All Cross told him was how he thought about things and experienced it. Not even how the revolution happened or what events took place.

If Nightmare had wished to know those it would make sense. Then it would gain Nightmare insight to how the revolution managed to be successfull and what to defend against.

And yet...

and yet...

He didn't. All Nightmare wished to know was what Cross did.

It doesn't make sense.

None of it does.

It doesn't take long but eventually a maid comes along. a human and she bows in respect to the Knight before turning towards Cross with a smile "Hello there. I brought you some food. It are roasted potatoes and a salad." she puts it on the little opening to push it into his cell "Once you are done please place it back in this same area. Makes us able to clean it up which will leave your area a bit cleaner!" she smiles happily before nodding once she sees Cross paying her attention.

After that she turns away, bows to the Knight again,before leaving.

Cross makes his way to the food slowly but the Knight standing guard doesn't make a single move to take or mess with it.

Cross grabs his food and takes a seat on his bed again. He eats it slowly and feels his hand shake once he realises it is actually good.

It is taste and warm and filled with nutrients.

Why are they treating him so nicely?

Cross just... doesn't get it...

Maybe he can ask the next time Nightmare comes to him to talk?

Maybe he can get some answers after all...

*------------------------*

In case you guys don't get the title name. It is a joke. Because Cross is being interrogated but it is more a mutual Q&A...

I will leave now.

[oysters-aint-for-me]

btw boxing was awesome today bc they played fallout boy and bon jovi which both provide excellent soundtracks for punching shit