#Bless This Acid House

[anotherpapercut]

hi more drug question

I have been told many many times that using ecstasy will basically fry your seratonin receptors so that you will never be able to feel happy again unless you are using the drug. I am assuming now that this is false but I am curious now as to how false. Is it something that CAN happen if you take too much at once or too often, or is this just random Drug Scary misinformation

Also also since wellbutrin is not an SSRI does LSD work when you are on it or does it also cancel it out

lol that's kind of an extreme version of what I usually hear! you're right that basically the answer here is no. this comes from a couple different things. first is MDMA induced serotonin toxicity, and 2nd is something called "serotonin syndrome" which is a real thing that can happen, but it's really really hard to get like this. prepare for a very long answer lmfaooo

MDMA induced serotonin toxicity occurs when you take too high doses too frequently. MDMA IS slightly neurotoxic, but so are many prescription drugs so don't let that word freak you out too much! basically MDMA works by dumping large amounts of serotonin into your brain, hence why it's the happy/love drug lol. if you take too much too often, your brain will straight up run out of serotonin. obviously that's bad! it's not as simple as "never feeling happy again" but you will essentially have depression for a bit because of lack of serotonin (on its own, low serotonin levels following modest MDMA use is not damaging and resolves within a few days) but the real problem is that if you are on MDMA with depleted serotonin, your brain will continue releasing dopamine which will attach to the serotonin receptors and damage them. this is what can cause long term depression symptoms, the damaged serotonin receptors. ultimately your brain will heal this on its own unless for some reason I guess you keep taking it a lot (which would have no effect. when you take too much MDMA your brain just runs out of serotonin to dump so like. it just won't work lol)?? it can also be treated with the supplement NAC, which I would recommend taking any time you use MDMA because of this!

to sum up MDMA toxicity: it can happen but only if you're misusing it! it's generally recommended that you dont do much more than 1 dose every 3 months or so to make sure your brain has time to reset. research interactions with anything else you're using (prescription or not), take some NAC in the weeks following a dose, drink a lot of water, keep your body temperature regular because that can worsen it, and take some antioxidants like alpha lipoic acid and grape seed oil during/immediately after taking MDMA - it's when you come down that your brain is delicate and could use the protection. also this may sound counterintuitive but weed also has antioxidant properties, so smoking it as you come down helps a lot. also if you DO have MDMA toxicity taking more MDMA will not help u feel happy unfortunately it will just make it worse lol, your brain only has so much serotonin to give

now serotonin syndrome can happen with the misuse of any drug that works on serotonin including MAOIs, SSRIs, and SNRIs, usually by taking a VERY large dose (but some people are just extremely sensitive). it usually takes care of itself eventually, but the amount of time it takes and stuff is kinda hard to pin down bc it's REALLY misunderstood and tends to be overly self diagnosed. again this is like super super hard to do. you would have to take a MASSIVE dose or mix it with other serotonin affecting drugs (ESPECIALLY MAOIs. DO NOT MIX MDMA WITH MAOI ANTI DEPRESSANTS). like 5 times the normal dose at least probably (partner is currently trying to find some literature on it so he'll add that in the replies if he finds anything interesting). it will cause things like heightened anxiety and body temperature and can cause kidney problems or seizures if it's like really bad and untreated. but you'd feel REALLY bad before it got to that point, so in general like, if you take any type of drug and feel extremely bad after go to the doctor lol. mostly this will also just heal itself; your brain is pretty resilient! again usually if this does happen it's very minor. cases bad enough to require hospitalization are exceedingly rare

to give you an example of what these can look like, I have a friend who was given about 3-4 times a regular dose by a fucking piece of shit asshole she knows and, this part is crucial, it was mixed with a very large amount of alcohol AND acid (which can slightly increase the neurotoxicity. normally not a huge issue but becomes one in circumstances like this), AND coke; like she was blackout drunk and while not on a lot of acid or coke, this is just too many things to have in your body and brain at one time. the mixture of such a large amount different drugs caused her what I'm guessing was a mild case of both of these things at once. she experienced slightly worsened depression for about 6 months after, and actually had a mild stutter for almost a year. I made sure she took some NAC and other things that aid brain healing, and she didn't try molly again for a long time to be super sure she didn't overload her brain before it was ready. this is a pretty extreme case, and even with that she has fully recovered thankfully. do NOT EVER do drugs with someone you don't trust with your life. DO NOT EVER do drugs in doses you have not confirmed for yourself to be safe and DO NOT EVER mix drugs without finding out if it's safe!!! just as a small aside though: usually taking molly and acid at the same time is perfectly safe. in fact it's called a candy flip and I HIGHLY recommend it because it's fucking awesome. again, just make sure you are taking safe doses in a safe environment

OKAY now finally your specific question about Wellbutrin: I actually take Wellbutrin so I can answer this one from personal experience! Wellbutrin should not alter the effects of LSD in any way HOWEVER! both of these drugs lower your seizure threshold! I'm on the max dose of Wellbutrin (which is the max dose BECAUSE of seizure risk) so when I plan to drop acid I usually either skip my dose entirely that day or only take half depending on how much acid I'm planning to take. because of the way Wellbutrin works, this shouldn't cause you any problems as far as that goes. for me, not taking my Wellbutrin for a day mainly has the effect of making me more fatigued, and acid counteracts that really well by making me feel very awake/aware. if you don't want to skip or halve your dose though you can also take things that will RAISE your seizure threshold. so like I sometimes will smoke hemp because CBD actually will help with that. the risk here isn't huge either way especially if you have no history of seizures, but again if it's something you're concerned about you should be just fine skipping or lowering your dose for the day. acid usually lasts about 12 hours too so i personally don't even care about skipping the Wellbutrin that much because it basically does the same thing for me. I did take my full Wellbutrin dose the last couple times I've done acid though because I was taking a very small amount of acid (about half a tab)

in summation lol sort of TLDR I generally would recommend MDMA for recreational use because the risks of damage are low and it's safe if you are safe about it. and it's honestly just a really fun one! the only negative effect I've ever felt is some emotional and physical fatigue the following day, and this is largely because of how emotional and energetic you are on it. I just make sure to have the next day off to lay around and listen to music :)

taking it with a partner or loved one will give you an especially beautiful experience, as MDMA has been proven to facilitate extremely open emotional conversations. in fact, when MDMA was first synthesized it's primary use was in psychotherapy! research was shut down during the war on drugs, but in recent studies it's demonstrated amazing abilities to treat and even straight up CURE disorders like PTSD. for a personal anecdote, my partner actually completely fucking cured his alcoholism on a combo of MDMA and whippets (nitrous oxide) lmfao. like dude straight up went from getting black out drunk multiple nights a week to drinking nothing for the past year and a half without any other treatment program. LSD has been proven to have similar incredible results with treating and curing things like depression, anxiety, PTSD and addiction and is also a very fun and very safe one.

sorry to reiterate for the billionth time lol but it's important: these drugs are safe and fun if you make sure they're safe and fun! do your research and never use in an unfamiliar environment with people you wouldn't trust in an emergency! also I know this sounds like a lot, but remember I'm giving you like the absolute safest possible practices and emphasizing sort of over cautiousness because I think it's always better to be too safe. I've taken molly without nac and I've taken kinda big doses a little closer together than I should have without any problems. there's a bit of flexibility to these guidelines, but it's always better to think of them as being rigid so you don't end up too far in the other direction. like I've said it's really really hard to do actual damage that would last more than like a day or 2 max. most of the time you'll just be sleepy the next day from all the dancing so it's nice to do it on a day 1 of a weekend. also it only lasts like a couple of hours lol so it's not your whole day or anything!

[dreampsychosis]

Sergio Pizzorno from Kasabian photographed by Neil Bedford for C.P. Company.

[thewidowsledger]

Bearer Of The Seed

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Targaryen!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18, HOUSE OF THE DRAGON AU, AMAB!Natasha, Targayen!Natasha, smut, angst (sex just for the obligation of making heirs), forced marriage (political arrangement to save reader's family), Natasha plots to make reader pregnant while reader plots to deceive Natasha lol, lots of chasing, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, dubious consent, breeding kink, rough sex, bleeding (reader is a virgin), creampie, fingering (r receiving), overstimulation & squirting (r receiving)

Author’s Note: Tiger cub!!!! 🐅 Thank you so much for your request and I hope I wrote your request the way you imagined it to be. Yey, my first fic request done! There are more, hihi <3 ps. I am not actually back yet, I just wanted to post this ksksskskss

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⧗

“Rest and heal, my sweet. And I will make sure to make up for the night we missed,” she said in a soft and gentle tone, only for you to hear as you continued to lie there, your eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep and restful sleep.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

⧗

“Father, smith, warrior. Mother, maiden, crone, stranger…”

The words felt like acid on your tongue. Each one stinging you as they leave your lips. You loathed having to say them. You loathed having to agree. This wasn't some love match. It was the voice of a prisoner accepting their fate.

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Natasha, refusing to blink despite the tears forming. You will not cry. Not in her presence. You will not give her that satisfaction. So you try your best to stand tall, to be defiant. Though it's hard when you feel so completely defeated as you said the final words that will seal you both forever.

“I am yours...and you are mine. From this day...until the end of my days.”

The last word was hardly out of your mouth when Natasha took a step forward and captured your lips with hers. Natasha’s grip on your hips tightens as she pulls you firmly against her. Her lips are rough and insistent as they move against yours. You can feel the tension and desire coursing through her as she claims your mouth in a possessive, greedy kiss.

With what seems like great effort, Natasha breaks the kiss. She takes a step back and you notice a sly smirk slowly appear on his face as she watches you try to catch your breath and you so badly wanted to wipe that on her face. Clearly, she was enjoying the effect she had on you, but you will not make this easy for her.

You will make sure to play this game on your hands, not hers.

⧗

“Heirs…”

Hearing your now family bring up the subject of heirs, made you feel a lump form in your throat. It was something you'd tried to avoid thinking about, but you knew it was a reality you would have to face.

Natasha didn't even flinch. She seems confident and unbothered, like she has no concerns in that regard. She responds without missing a beat.

“Oh, we’ll have heirs. Plenty of them, in fact.”

Natasha's grip on your hands tightens slightly, you force a tight-lipped smile on your face as you struggle to appear calm.

“I will make sure that our marriage bed will not lack heat. We’ll have as many children as the gods see fit to bless us with.” She added with such confidence.

You knew that the celebration was coming to an end and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd—by her. The air felt hot and stifling. Without saying a word, you excused yourself but as you stood Natasha didn't let go of your hand. So you eyed her intently authoritatively and she immediately released your hand, you didn't miss the flicker of hesitation and fear in her eyes. Her usual confident and authoritative demeanor seemed to be gone for a moment, revealing just the slightest crack in her armor.

As you walked, a small smirk tugged your lips, it gave you a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you had the power to affect her in that way. For a brief moment, you felt like you were in control, that you had some bargaining power in this situation.

Of course you do, you will play this game right on your palm, right?

You stepped into the cool night air of the corridors outside, you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you as you thought about the fact that your family had been saved, you realized just how high the cost was. Natasha had saved you from ruin, but the price was steep. You were now the payment, a pawn in a larger game of power and politics. Knowing that you were traded like a piece of livestock in exchange for your family’s safety, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

One of the foremost was the fact that you will need to carry the child of someone you didn't really know. Natasha Romanoff was a complex and dangerous woman, unpredictable, impulsive and arrogant—those are the only things you know about her. So the thought of being connected to her through a child was unsettling, to say the least. Yet you knew, as soon as the words of the scripted vows you loathed to say forcefully fell from your lips, there was no turning back.

It is inevitable or perhaps it can be avoided?

You were lost in your own thoughts, worrying about your future, when the maid servant's voice broke your train of thought.

“The celebration is over, your Grace. The King will be expecting you in her chambers.”

Her words and the instructions were simple, but they sent a shiver of unease through you. But you wanted to test the waters, you wanted to test who among you holds such power to the both of you.

“Let her know that I am denying her request,” you replied coldly as the night breeze.

“But your Gra—”

“Tell her that.” you cut her off with a finality, “I’ll be at my chambers, I’ll retire early for tonight.” You added, hinting that if she wished to prove the power she has on you, she will come and show you.

The night slipped away and you opted for the secret chambers that only and your maester, Wanda knew. Inside, you hoped to find solitude and respite from the pressures and chaos of the day.

You stayed in the dimly lit room, the only light provided by a few flickering candles, as the night went on. You didn’t know whether or not Natasha had come to your original chambers, expecting to find you there.

But you will make sure not surrender yourself, not without a fight.

⧗

Natasha was growing increasingly frustrated as she recounted different excuses from the maid servants every time she inquired about you. She hadn't seen you since the night of your wedding, and the more time passed the more suspicious she became.

Another maid servant entered her headquarters and she is for sure to deliver another excuse from you.

“The Queen is not feeling well, you Grace.”

The maid servant stood before the King, her hands clasped in front of her nervously as she delivered her message.

“What happened? What does the maester say the issue is?” The suspicion that she had in mind is now gone and is replaced by a deep concern for you.

“Well, you Gr—”

“I will go and check on my wife.”

“I fear the Queen doesn’t want anyone in her chambe—”

“I’m not anyone, I am her King. I am her wife.”

Without another word of excuse, she rose from her seat and stalked out of the room. The King wasted no time making her way through the halls of the Keep, her steps were loud as she walked towards your chambers.

The moment Natasha stepped into the chambers, her eyes immediately fell upon your pale form lying in the bed. She was by your side in an instant, her hand reaching out to touch your forehead—and she could feel the heat radiating from you.

“Gods, you’re burning up,” she muttered, as she took in your sickly appearance.

Natasha's eyes darted to the maester as she confirmed that you would be fine in time, and that you had been examined already.

“And what is the cause of her sickness?” she questioned, her gaze returning to you.

Wanda cleared her throat, as she darted her eyes on your sleeping form. She breathed, shutting her eyes before she explained the cause of your illness.

“It appears the Queen has fallen ill due to stress and exhaustion,” she said with a shaky voice, as she watched Natasha softly caress your body. “And it would be best for her to be left alone for a few days, allowing her body to rest and recover,” she added, finally eyeing the King.

“Days?” Natasha repeated as if she didn't hear it clearly.

“Yes…”

Natasha let out a heavy sigh, her mind conflicted. On one hand, she wanted to keep you in her sight and she wanted you to be okay now so she could spend the nights with you fulfilling the obligations of making a long line of heirs. On the other, she knew the maester was likely right about your need for solitude and rest.

“Rest and heal, my sweet. And I will make sure to make up for the night we missed,” she said in a soft and gentle tone, only for you to hear as you continued to lie there, your eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep and restful sleep.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As she withdrew, she turned to the Wanda who was standing just outside the doorway of your chamber. “Do everything you can to ensure that she is well soon,” she instructed.

“Yes, your Grace.”

As soon as Natasha left your chambers, you slowly and stealthily got up from the bed where you had been feigning sleep. Your body trembled slightly as you inhaled deep breaths, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You were grateful that your plan had worked, and that Natasha had believed your act of being sick.

Wanda, your trusted maester and ally in your plan, looked at you with a sigh as you got up from the bed.

“I told you hot water and a cloth would do the trick,” she said, referring to the method she suggested to fake your elevated temperature.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

“My Grace, are you alright? Are you really sick now? You look pale.”

You snapped back to the present, your mind still replaying Natasha's words from earlier when she spoke to you while you were pretending to be in a deep slumber.

“I’m fine,” you assured Wanda, your voice a little shaky. “Just a bit…tired, that’s all.”

Tired of all this.

“Well, I shall leave you alone then, my Grace.”

Wanda has been the first person you became close with, and she has been nothing but supportive to cover up for you and your plans. You even heard her lie for you just a while ago and that was not even a part of your plan. But when the King asked about your condition—your fake condition, she still did with no hesitation.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

⧗

It had been several days since Natasha’s visit, and you had successfully managed to avoid her so far due to your pretense of being sick. Now, you were stepping out into the gardens, seeking a change of scenery and some fresh air.

The gardens were a lovely sight, the sun shining brightly and the flowers in full bloom. You strolled along the pathways, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

As you were walking in the garden, relishing the tranquil surroundings, your eyes caught a glimpse of something or rather, someone—in the distance. It was Natasha, standing next to Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm.

Her gaze was fixated on you and you could tell that she was surprised to see you out and about, considering the fact that you were supposed to be unwell. And now, she is making her way over to you.

Your instincts kicked in immediately, and your first thought was to run. Without hesitation, you darted through the gardens, your heart racing as you navigated the twisting and turning paths of the maze.

As you ran, adrenaline pumped through your veins, and you quickened your pace, determined to elude her as long as possible.

You were dressed in a gown made of flowing silk, the fabric soft and lightweight against your skin. The hem of the dress brushed against the grass as you ran, occasionally catching on the leaves of the maze bushes.

You sprinted through the maze, dodging and weaving between the high walls of greenery. As you continued running through the maze, your heart rate spiked ever higher when you caught a glimpse of Natasha through the gaps in the leaves.

Seeing her so close, so determined to find you, sent another jolt of adrenaline through your body, the fight-or-flight response kicking into high gear.

Although you were aware that she would eventually catch you, you refused to let her have an easy victory. You steeled yourself, determined to play this game in your own hands.

The twists and turns of the maze became your playground. Every time you thought she was closing in, you would change direction, taking unexpected forks that would put some distance between you again.

As you sprinted through the maze, looking back in the direction you last saw Natasha, a sudden body slammed in front of you. The force knocked you off balance, catching you off guard.

A pair of hands locked around your arms, effectively trapping you, preventing any further escape.

“Are you running away from me?”

As you met Natasha’s intense gaze, your heart raced and your words came out in a slight stutter. “Y-your Grace…” you started to say, but your mind was too preoccupied with the situation to form a coherent response.

You gulped as you looked away, and then replied with a shaky voice. “No, your Grace,” you said, your eyes still fixed on the soil where you were standing. Despite your denial, there was undeniable fear in your voice.

“I was expecting that you’re still in your chambers, resting. Wanda told me you’re still sick.”

“I wanted to go out, g-get some fresh air…”

“You should’ve come to me so I will go out with you.”

“I…” you hesitated for a moment, wanting to be careful on how you’re going to say the next words, “I wanted to have some time alone, y-your Grace.”

Her grip on your arms relaxed slightly as she heard your response. “I haven't had a night alone with you since our wedding, Y/N,” she said, she sounded a bit disappointed that made you hitch your breath.

“Look at me.” She commanded, leaving no room for disobedience. And you slowly did, as your gazes met, her eyes softened with a little fire of an intense desire, and her proximity to you made your heart race even faster.

In a swift and dominating move, Natasha closed the remaining distance between you and claimed your lips in a searing kiss. Natasha sensed your attempts to resist so she deepened the kiss, her tongue demanding entry, as her hands on your arms pulled you even closer to her.

Your resistance was a futile battle and you finally surrendered to her but you fought not to moan as her tongue explored the cavern of your mouth, leaving you breathless and vulnerable. As Natasha moved her attention towards your neck, her lips and tongue trailing along the sensitive skin, you tilted your head back, submitting to her control.

Her lips left your neck as she leaned towards your ear, her words a low, seductive whisper.

“I shall be expecting to see you in my chambers tonight.”

⧗

The evening had arrived, and Natasha made her way to her chamber, fully expecting to find you there—in her bed in all your glory. However, as she entered the room, her eyes scanned the space, but you were nowhere to be seen. Her initial confusion quickly turned into seething anger as she realized you didn’t follow her command.

She wasted no time and stormed through the corridors, her patience wearing thin. It has been far too long, and she is determined to have you, one way or another. Her strides were purposeful and filled with seething anger, her mind set on one mission.

To find you and bring you to her bed.

As soon as she stepped into your chambers, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. She approached the figure lying in the bed, she leaned closer to get a better look of you, and when she dipped her knee to the soft bed, the figure suddenly moved, emitting a piercing scream. Startled, Natasha let out a gasp, quickly realizing it wasn’t you but your maid servant.

“Y-your Grace!” The maid servant rushed out apologetically as she immediately threw the thick covers out her body and stood.

“Where is Y/N? Why are you in the Queen’s bed?!” Natasha demanded.

“Queen Y/N noticed I-I wasn’t feeling well and…well, I am fine but-but the Queen insisted that I am not fine,” the maid servant’s hands flew in different direction as she tried to explain herself, “and she told me…she insisted that I should rest, right here, in her bed. And she left.” The maid servant scrambled, the words coming out in a rush from her lips not wanting to receive the seething anger of the King.

“Forgive me, your Grace…please.”

The maid servant's continuous apologies grew quieter as Natasha's attention shifted. Her gaze moved towards the window, where she spotted a figure dashing towards the garden maze. She instantly recognized it was you, and a sly smile tugged at her lips. Ignoring the maid servant, Natasha stepped towards the window of your chambers.

Once again, you found yourself racing through the labyrinthine maze, your breath coming in short gasps as you desperately sought an escape. The twists and turns of the paths seemed to taunt you, creating a confusing web to ensnare you. Fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, your mind focused on one goal and that is to survive the night without having to spend it on the King’s bed.

Natasha’s voice echoed through the night, “Making a maid servant sleep in your own bed, just to fool me?”

Despite the gasp that escaped your lips at the sound of Natasha's seething voice, you refused to let it slow you down. Your legs propelled you forward, your bare feet pounding against the cool grass as you continued your race through the maze. There was no time for looking back, only the need to elude her pursuit.

“You were never ill, Y/N!”

As you ran through the maze, the tears of fear started to well up in your eyes, causing you to shut them tightly shut. The emotions coursing through you were overwhelming—fear, defiance, and the weight of the situation hitting you all at once. Yet, amidst it all, a small part of you stubbornly held onto the hope that you could somehow escape Natasha.

Just as you rounded a corner in the maze, a strong body suddenly locked onto you, arms encircling you like a vise grip. Caught off guard, you let out a gasp in surprise, struggling against the strong hold. The realization that Natasha had finally caught you struck you like a bolt of lightning.

“I knew you heard me that time…I never lied when I said I will make sure you’re full of my seed.”

In a swift and effortless motion, Natasha scooped you up and threw you in her shoulders, her strong grip on your thighs unyielding as she carried you to her chambers. You tried to resist, squirming and fighting against her, but her strength was undeniable. Despite your attempts to break free, it was clear that you had no chance of escape.

The game is no longer in your hands. It never was.

The guards stationed nearby stood at their positions, their eyes averted from the scene. They could only watch as Natasha carried you flailing in her arms, your screams piercing the air. Fear for their own lives kept them in place, knowing full well that they could have their heads off if they bothered to look in your direction.

“Lock the doors!” she barked, her tone leaving no room for questions. The guards obeyed, swiftly securing the chamber doors, sealing you and Natasha inside. Without a moment of hesitation, she hurled you onto her bed, the force of her throw causing you to bounce slightly upon the plush mattress.

“Strip,” she commanded in a low voice that made you shiver in fear, “Remove every piece of clothing you wear. I want to see my wife before me in all her naked glory. Do not forget to remove any trinkets or tokens you may be wearing.”

Your hands were shaking when you let your dress slip to the floor, revealing your vulnerable form, your body betrays you with gooseflesh. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over and cascading down your cheeks.

Natasha watched, sitting at the bed as you stripped the last piece of clothing out of your body.

Her cold, green orbs leisurely take in every inch of your bare flesh. They linger on the fullness of your breasts, the pebbled peaks begging for her touch. Her gaze trails down to the small, dark mole at the side of your breast, a unique birthmark that she commits to memory.

Her eyes continue their languid descent, taking in the slight roundness of your belly soon to be full of her seed, the flare of your hips, and the soft curls at the juncture of your thighs. She studies the glistening evidence of your fear and humiliation, the pink folds of your pussy already swollen and slick.

The shame of your nakedness burns through you like a physical touch, amplified by the fact that Natasha remains fully clothed. Her silken robes and velvet cloak seem to mock your naked form, the heavy golden brooch at her shoulder a stark reminder of the game is now holding place in her hands.

A cruel smile plays on Natasha’s lips as she sees the shame and fear in your eyes. She rises once more, her tall form towering over you. Her hands go to the sash at her waist, undoing it with deliberate slowness.

The silk slithers to the floor, pooling around her feet. She begins to slowly unlace her leather breeches, her gaze locked with yours. As the garment falls away, revealing her hardened cock, you can't help but gulp, your eyes wide with trepidation.

She stepped closer to you, caressing your cheek. You didn't know why but you leaned in to her touch as she wiped the tears off your face. She looked at your glossy eyes before she leaned forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, yet commanding kiss. Your lips part instinctively, allowing her to sweep her tongue inside, claiming your mouth as hers.

“Open wider,” she demands, breaking the kiss to gaze down at you. She tilts your head back further, forcing your mouth open wider. She kisses you again, this time her tongue probing deeper, exploring the warmth of your mouth. She sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth and biting down gently.

Your breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping your throat as her kiss becomes more intense. Her hands tangled in your hair and you can't help but moan softly, the sound muffled against her lips.

Natasha broke the kiss and sees the raw innocence in your eyes, the moisture making them glisten like jewels. Your lips are swollen and parted, a thin string of saliva stretching between them, quivering as you suck in ragged breaths. Her gaze darkens with lust and satisfaction.

“My bed has been lacking...heat,” she murmurs, her voice low and gravelly. She reaches out, wiping the saliva from your chin with her thumb. “And you, my sweet, are going to warm it tonight.”

You took a step backwards and tilt your head to the side to avoid her touch.

“You make it difficult,” she says, her voice tight with frustration, “to fulfill the one duty that should be simple. I have conquered cities, bent knees to mine, tamed dragons...And yet, you make it hard for me to plant my seed in your womb.”

“Am I just a bearer of your offspring?” You pinched your brows together, finally eyeing the King as the tears cascaded down your face.

“Yes,” she replied bluntly, undressing herself, “in this, you are.” As her clothing falls away, revealing her breasts and her tanned, muscular body, she meets your gaze squarely. “But know this, my sweet, you are not just any bearer.”

“You are my Queen—my own wife who dared to deceive and defy me,” she says as she steps forward, her eyes roaming over your body hungrily. “And when I have won, when you carry my child, you will be the mother of my heir.”

“And perhaps,” she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she leans over you, “when this is done, when my line is secured, you will be something more.” Her gaze holds yours captive. “But for tonight, you are simply the woman I must breed.”

Your heart shatters in your chest as she speaks those words. The cold, hard truth of her intent cuts deep, each word a knife twisting in your soul. You are not her beloved, her equal, but a tool, a vessel to bear her child and you knew it from the beginning.

Without you carrying her offspring, you are nothing.

Natasha then grabs you roughly, flipping you around and throwing you onto the bed. She climbs over you, positioning herself behind your ass.

With a sudden, brutal motion, she thrusts herself inside you, ignoring your cries of pain as she tears through your resisting body. She groans in satisfaction, her hands gripping your hips as she begins to rut into you with merciless force, her dragon's strength overpowering any objections you might have.

“You are mine now,” she growls, her breath hot against your ear. “No more defiance, no more resistance. You will bear my child, as is your purpose.” Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust, her hips slamming against your ass cheek with brutal intensity.

She pulls out of you suddenly, her thick cock glistening with your virgin blood. Natasha flips you over, pushing your hips in the bed. Her body pressed heavily against yours as she positioned herself between your legs. Without warning, she slams back into you, her dragon-sized cock splitting you open.

You're screaming now, your voice echoing off the walls as she fucks you with brutal, animalistic intensity.

She moves to silence your screams and releases your mouth long enough to trail her lips down your body, pausing to suckle at each breast roughly, her teeth scraping against your sensitive nipples.

“You are so tight around me, Y/N,” she groans, her voice low and possessive. “Your body was made just for my pleasure. Your virgin hole is so snug, clasping around me like a glove. You were made to be filled by me, to bear my children.”

Her hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, allowing her to bury herself deeper. As she grinds her hips against yours, she leaned down and your hands immediately claw at her back, your fingernails digging into her skin.

Her muscled back flexes under your desperate, clawing hands. You feel each ridge of muscle, the hard strength of her. Despite the pain she's causing, despite the brutal taking, your body responds to her, your core clenching around her cock as you feel her powerful body move against yours.

“Y-your…Grace…” you called out for her, mouth open as she tore you apart. You held her neck and the silver locks of her hair, your legs crossed at her waist.

“You’re my Queen.” She growled in your ear.

“Yes, your Grace!” You cried out in pain and pleasure.

“Then you will take what I give you, you will be painted with my seed and soon enough you’ll bear my heir.”

Her words made your pussy clench even tighter around her massive cock. She feels it, her thrusts becoming even more powerful as she drives her seed deep into your womb.

She straightens up, her hands gripping your hips as she slams into you one final time. Her body stiffens, her head thrown back in a silent roar as she finds her release. She grinds her hips against yours, ensuring every drop is deep inside you.

Natasha pulls out of you slowly, her eyes locked onto your well-stretched opening. She watches as her seed begins to leak out mixing with your virgin blood, a possessive growl rumbling in her chest. Without hesitation, she pushes the escaping seed back inside with her slender fingers.

“My seed stays inside you,” she continues to push her fingers inside you, scooping up her own seed and forcing it back into your walls, making sure it's as deep inside you as possible. She repeats this process several times, her fingers pumping in and out of you as she ensures her claim is secure.

The sensation of her fingers pushing into you, combined with the gentle throbbing from her earlier pumps, becomes too much to bear. You can feel yourself growing more and more sensitive, the line between pleasure and pain blurring. You moan, your voice barely a whisper.

“Your Grace...it's too much…”

She ignores your plea, her voice dark as she murmurs, “It’s Natasha for you, my sweet.” Her fingers continue to push into your overstimulated hole, the motion causing you to convulse around her.

“Natasha…” you stammer, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer as the intense sensation consumes you. Her name on your lips, filled with such raw emotion, makes her own stomach flutter.

You convulse violently, your body shaking uncontrollably as a gush of liquid spurts out from between your thighs. Natasha muffles her approval against your neck, her voice thick with satisfaction as she feels the evidence of your spend.

“Say it again,” she demands, her fingers continuing to pump into you as the aftershocks wrack your body. “Say my name like that again, Y/N.” Her own control is slipping, your words affecting Natasha more than she’d like to admit. You whimper, your voice hoarse.

"N-Natasha...Natasha...only...only you…” Each word is punctuated by a sharp breath as your body continues to spasm around her fingers. She lets out a low groan, her head dropping to your shoulder as she listens to you beg for her alone.

“You’re so good for me,” she praises, her voice rough with desire. She withdraws her fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to her mouth to clean them with a hungry suckle. Her eyes never leaving yours as she does so, drinking in the sight of her Queen overcome with pleasure.

“From now on, you will sleep in this same bed as mine so I can ensure that you remain well-bred every night.”

[clipartdinosaur]

Griddlehark Fics

I have read an absolutely insane amount of Griddlehark fanfics in the past few months so I figured I could make a like...list of all of my favorites that I bookmarked. I'm not sure if anyone will use this but if anything it will be for my own self-indulgence LOL. Just a heads up, this list WILL contain spoilers up to Nona the Ninth, so proceed with your own discretion. Anyway here we go!

(♥︎ = favorite!)

Short (<15k):

"By the Sword" by JeanLuciferGohard (2.6k)

The Reverend Daughter of the Ninth, Necrosaint, Ascended, the greatest bone adept in an Age, does one push-up, and collapses. Harrow does not beg for her cavalier. Harrow rakes her hair back and snarls, “Nav, I am going to unzip your cranial sutures. One by one. And zip them up again sideways.”

"Your Necro Questions Answered" by Magichorse (8.8k)

Syndicated columnist "Nav the Cav" offers a sympathetic ear to cavaliers across the galaxy and dispenses practical, no-nonsense, real talk advice on how to properly manage and care for your necromancer.

"A Lesson in Bones" by Magichorse (3.8k)

One of the laboratory trials at Canaan House compels Harrowhark to swap bodies with her cavalier. What will Gideon do with the power of the most talented bone adept in generations at her disposal? Nothing good, probably.

"Visions of Gideon" by tothewillofthepeople (13k)

Oh my god they were roommates...

"true love's kiss, or something equally nauseating" by corpsesoldier (4.6k)

She was where she needed to be. She was going to pull her necro out of this godforsaken tomb, end the game of musical bodies they were playing, and then everything would be all right. Harrow would be alive. And Gideon was going to give her shit for approximately the next myriad for not just taking what she’d offered and saving them a whole lot of trouble.

"The Big Warm Dark" by decalexas (haelstorm) (2.7k)

Gideon Nav knows how to swing a longsword, brandish a rapier, bridge the gap between life and death, punch the dead in the face, and maybe overthrow an Empire along the way. What she doesn't know how to do is reach for the girl who made all of this possible.

"carrion comfort, despair (not feast on thee)" by NotAFicWriter (5k)

Some time after Alecto wakes, Harrow and Gideon finally have a moment to speak to one another. Hearts are bared. Teeth are bared. Intentions are bared. It all comes at great personal cost (emotional honesty).

"never exhale all the way" by pigflight (1.2k)

Harrowhark paints Gideon's face.

"such an almighty sound" by CountingNothings (10k)♥︎

“I need you to marry me,” Harrow says, a propos of absolutely nothing that Gideon can see. And, uh, okay, this is not what childhood best frenemies say to each other upon discovering that both of their graduate programs have weird residence requirements. “What,” Gideon asks, “the fuck?”

"A Handsomely Dangerous Thing" by zoicite (1.5k)

Had Harrow ever looked at Gideon and felt pride before? Surely not. It sat like a tumor in her chest, a cancerous lump that had grown where it did not belong.

"How it didn't happen" by Nary (1.5k)

"How did you lose it?" Coronabeth asked, more softly than her sister's shrill voice. The group assembled at Canaan House barely knew her, and yet here they were, asking the most irritatingly personal questions, and acting as if they were being kind and thoughtful by prying into her secrets. "I dropped my pen into a vat of acid and reached in to grab it without thinking," Harrow said dryly. Coronabeth recoiled, screwing up her pretty nose. Ianthe looked unsure whether to believe her or not. Their meatslab of cavalier just stared blankly. "The Daughter of the Ninth House was blessed in this manner from her birth, as a symbol of her strength and power over the mysteries of necromancy," Ortus interjected. Harrow glared at him. "Oh," Coronabeth said, an expression of disgusting sympathy on her flawless face. "But then you would never have known who your soulmate was!" Harrow's glare intensified. "My soulmate is bones."

"Halcyon Nights" by Morike91 (10k)

It was hard to tell what was worse: feeling the full warmth of those unguarded honey eyes fall on Harrow, or watching them narrow in recognition and contempt, their warmth now hotter with something else.  “What can I get you?” It has been at least four years since Harrow last heard the voice of Gideon Nav, but it was still as familiar as her right hand. 

"I completely fucking hate you" by ClaraZorEl (7.5k)

In the coming weeks, Harrowhark learns an unfortunate great deal about Gideon Nav. The kind of porn she likes, the number of bread rolls she can fit into her mouth at once, that she always leans too heavily on her left leg when she fights but can do fifty-seven push-ups in a row without stopping, that her biceps rates 11/10 on the scale of good biceps, that her laugh rumbles like an army of skeletons, and most importantly, that she can’t fucking stand her. Gideon Nav is so grating that Harrow has no doubt she will be her undoing. OR Harrowhark Nonagesimus has been invited to Canaan University's ball. But to successfully represent her house, she needs a cavalier, and unfortunately, her only option is her least favourite barista from her least favourite coffee shop.

"A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them" by pipistrelle (7k)

"In the end, she poisoned Ortus; so it was Harrow Nova who walked out to the shuttle a half-step behind the Daughter of the Ninth, the chain of Samael Novenary wound about her offhand wrist, the black blade of the Ninth at her side."

"The Only Prayer We Know" by pipistrelle (12k) [Part 2 of "A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them"]

It's like a bad joke: two cavaliers (alive) and two necromancers (one dead) walk into a rebel faction of humanity, looking for a new life -- in every sense of the phrase. What they find is each other, and (in some cases) themselves.

"The Flames of Hell Are Warm" by silverapples (7k)

In which Harrow is a repressed evangelical Christian and Gideon performs burlesque in a lesbian nightclub. Feat. nipple pasties, chewing gum, and a steaming mug of gay coffee (wake up and smell it, Harrow).

"Necro Business" by rnanqo (1.6k) ♥︎

“Gideon,” you said carefully, “I will need to examine your mouth. Various structures, primarily the jaw, but also the lingual muscles—the tongue—” You stopped there. Your cheeks were going red, probably with indignity. “Yeah,” I said, a bit too loudly, “yeah, sure. Do it.”

"Holy Cross, Alaska" by softieghost (10k) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Harrow meets Gideon. They go through it together.

"my love will be your armor" by TheKnightsWhoSayBook (2.3k)

"The princess has a right to bestow her favor on whoever she wishes to win a match," Gideon tells her. "Are you going to?" "Why would I? I don't want to marry him," Harrow answers bitterly. "Do you want me to win?" Princess Harrow will be engaged to the winner of the tournament, and her only champion is her useless bodyguard Sir Gideon Nav, who isn't going to save her. Unless...?

"The Meaning Of The Word" by pipistrelle (8.4k)

Harrow, along with a good percentage of Canaan University's necromancy students, has the flu. Gideon has a lot of feelings that she is in no way equipped to handle. It's a tough week.

"(i shine only with the light you gave me)" by sashawire (1.7k) ♥︎

God prods, gently, “Even just starting with their physical description, and we can go from there.” “Imagine,” you say, from somewhere outside your body, “the worst shade of orange you’ve ever seen in your life.” * Harrowhark receives her saintly title.

"i will learn to love the shears" by corpsesoldier (4.7k)

The avulsion trial left Harrow's hair in a sorry state and Gideon offers up her expertise with a blade. Or, Gideon gives Harrow a haircut.

"The Titty Texts: A Work of a Stupendous Titty Nature" by EleniaTrexer (3k)

Gideon accidentally sends Harrow boobs. And then just keeps on sending them.

"can we start over?" by breeeliss (10k)

Gideon needs a tutor. Harrow needs someone to get her out of college gym class. All in all, a pretty straightforward arrangement to make with your ex.

"Dark Mode Enabled" by senseoftheday (12k)

Tech Company AU in which a certain Sales bro with no filter decides to ruin Harrow's life (and feature roadmap) by initiating the cross-functional project from hell. At least, Gideon has the decency to work remotely, and Harrow's new office crush makes some pretty great coffee.

"deconsecrated graves" by emotionsandphenomena (4k)

Gideon and Harrow got out of the cult they were raised in. Okay, what's next?

"settle up in heaven" by liesmyth (3k) ♥︎

“Isn’t this arrogance, Harrow?” Kiriona says. “Think you could fix what God couldn’t?”

"Quoth the Maiden" by Sarsaparilla (10.9k)

The bold outlaws Nova Hawk and Gideon meet for the first time on a narrow log-bridge. But is it really their first meeting? Or: what if Robin Hood and Little John were both lesbians?

"twice in a blue moon" by sinshine (8.7k) ♥︎

Gideon snapped out of her depressing reverie and blinked at her. "That's a really good idea." "Obviously," said Harrow, and it was only a little bit condescending. "Step one, sneak out of the party. Step two, acquire the necessary items at a store. Step three–" Harrow gestured vaguely at the deer in Gideon's hands– "And step four, profit." [G&H rush to fix a smashed snow globe that Dulcinea made so that Cam doesn't kill them before the clock strikes midnight at their NYE party. The fact that Gideon is back in her hometown after a long time away and she and Harrow have unresolved romantic tension is secondary and definitely won't be a problem.]

"It Came From Planet Slut" by LockedTombMemes (8k)

Well. Evidently going undercover to an Idan society fling in order to deliver a message to a high-profile BoE agent was a tits-out kind of look.

"Apostate's Yuletide" by sinshine (12.6k)♥︎

Gideon raised one eyebrow comically high. She smiled easily, erasing any hint of the anxiety that Harrow might have sensed. "What's with all the questions today?" Harrow huffed indignantly and fidgeted with the blanket draped across her lap, worrying the frayed hem with her fingers. "I thought your ego would appreciate the interest." "Yeah, but it's weird coming from you. I'm used to you monologuing, not playing twenty questions." "Perhaps it's a Christmas miracle," suggested Harrow, with an expression so absolutely devoid of joy that Gideon couldn't help but laugh. [Harrow and Gideon burn down a church on Xmas.]

"when it's over" by Adertily (2.5k)

Harrowhark had sworn to herself to live to see the girl in the locked tomb awaken. Alecto has risen. Now God is dead, along with everyone who had ever been dear to her - and Gideon has returned as a distorted creature. The war is over. Harrow wishes she could be too. Or: A character study based on Harrow's suicidal ideation and Gideon's determination to never run anywhere unless she absolutely has to.

"Supernova Bloom!" by sinshine (13k)

"It's just for a week, and then you never have to see me again," said Gideon. "I don't have time to find anyone else." And, "Please." Slowly, Harrow took her hand off the door and cautiously turned around. Gideon watched a dozen unspoken questions flicker across her face. She voiced none of them, but eventually settled on an expression of grim resignation. "I suppose I could suffer you for a week." [Gideon needs help getting her new flower shop ready for the grand opening. Harrow needs cash.]

"I still need your teeth around my organs" by sinshine (7.8k)

Although she was a beloved Daughter and a talented necromancer, Gideon's greatest vice was that she dearly loved to fuck around and find out. Knowing this, perhaps it shouldn't have been as shocking when she lifted one of Nova's hands, flipped it over, and kissed her palm. [4 times Gideon kisses Harrow, 1 time Harrow kisses Gideon]

"cuckoo, cuckoo" by sashawire (1.2k)

What Wake gives it is not a name. To do so would be a moronic, unnecessary cruelty. But she does deign to give it the microscopic dignity of a title, a goal, a purpose. Bomb. Eighteen years later, in the rubble of a once-sacred home, Harrowhark Nonagesimus reaches up and touches Gideon Nav’s grit-covered, blood-rimed face, splits a laugh like the world is ending, and calls her “flower.” * Six times God's unwanted daughter was nicknamed, and once she wasn't.

"my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear" by sashawire (<1k) ♥︎

Gideon chomps into her tongue as hard as she can convince herself, stifling a very dignified squawk. Her eyes water, Emperor’s left tit that fucking hurts, but—it works. Blood weeps from the bite marks, creeping down the back of her throat, up into her nasal cavity, staining her teeth. Okay. She has blood in her mouth. Blood that, somehow, needs to get into Harrow’s mouth. * Step #6: Consume the flesh.

"fifteen percent concentrated power of will" by surreptitiously (9k)

Teaching someone to do a push-up is a love language, when that person is very annoying.

"GHAZAL WHERE I'M BEGGING YOU TO TOUCH ME" by igneousbitch (12k)

You had your body and I had mine, and it was a miracle. Your hands against my face were a miracle. The rest of your meat attached to your hands was a prayer answered and a promise broken, but we were flush and gasping and alive, and Harrow—I really thought you might’ve kissed me then. But I felt it happen. The way your breath suddenly stilled, and your body locked up beneath mine, remembering. How with splintering gentleness, you pushed me away. “I’m so sorry,” was the second thing you said upon waking. The first thing had been my name. Stranded in a safehouse on an Edenite moon, Gideon and Harrow try to put themselves back together.

"catch you on the flip side, sugar lips" by corpsesoldier (4.9k)

Maybe if Harrow's brain runs enough scenarios, she'll find a way to keep what she's lost.

"hand to heart, I swear" by corpsesoldier (5k)

Gideon has a broken heart, and there's only one necromancer who can fix it.

Medium (15-30k)

"If you're doing it right you'll break their ribs" by almostnectarine (22.4k)

"How do you know Nonagesimus has gone somewhere dangerous?" asked Isaac. "Have you wired some kind of alert system?" "It's, uh. It's on the schedule," said Gideon. "I just... forgot. Because of the bread." Nobody was convinced by this, least of all Gideon. "It's a Ninth House thing," Gideon went on, backing away with increasing desperation. This was a slightly more plausible explanation, if only because nobody wanted to look too closely at what fell under the awful skeletal-ribbed and rotting umbrella of Ninth House things. "Gotta go—!" And she was out the door, gone. But it wasn't a Ninth House thing, except inasmuch as it was happening to the only two representatives of the noble and decrepit Ninth House on this quite literally godforsaken rock. Gideon knew Harrow had gone somewhere dangerous—knew that Harrow was back in the lab where they had only just completed a horrible trial—because she could see it, clear as day: an awful overlay on her vision of that terrible dangerous room and a pair of terrible dangerous hands drawing some kind of ward next to the plinth. The hands were definitely Harrow's. This was definitely a problem.

"If Home Is Where the Heart Is (Then We're All Just Fucked)" by JeanLuciferGohard (17k) ♥︎

When Gideon Nav gets a call that her ex-girlfriend, who never bothered to change her designated emergency contact, is in the hospital, she goes against her better judgement and responds. Everything after that just gets more complicated.

"blue gray green lavender" by smolranger (29k) ♥︎

Laser Radial sailor Gideon Nav just wants pass her classes, win a few regattas, and keep her head down. FJ sailor Harrowhark Nonagesimus has grand plans to qualify for the Olympics, preserve her parent's legacy, and save her home town. Despite the ties binding them together, the two have kept their college lives carefully separate for two years. But when Harrow's helm, Ortus, suffers a concussion mid-way through the fall season, their carefully separated lives collide. Harrow needs someone capable of taking Ortus' place for the remainder of the season or her Olympic dreams — and Canaan College's entire sail team — are in peril. And Gideon is her only option.

"Daughters of Hungry Ghosts" by zoicite (24k)

Harrow and Gideon and times they have (and also have not) shared a bed over the years.

"Disney World, Florida" by softieghost (24.6k) [Part 2 of "Holy Cross, Alaska"]

After the events of Alaska, Harrow thanks Gideon the only way she knows how: devotion. -- Chapter 3: The journey concludes. More confessions.

"we've got a good thing goin' " by sinshine (14.6k) ♥︎

“Not to sound ungrateful, but being here makes me wish that you had left me for dead,” said Harrow. Gideon had been staring hard at the face of the fountain’s statue. She was pretty sure that it was carved in the likeness of Naberius himself, but she didn’t want to say it out loud and make it true. She shook her head and turned to Harrow. “Leaving me to live out eternity in your bony sock puppet of a body? Hard pass.” Palamedes and Camilla shared a look. It was the mutual understanding of two people who had been trapped in close quarters with the bickering of Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus for far too long. [Team 69 hide out in Babs's vacation home. Because it's not like he's using it anyway.]

"Cake by the Ocean" by zoicite (15k)♥︎

Okay, so the thing was, Gideon had always been shit at plans. She knew that. Everyone knew that, but this--she really didn’t think it would be this hard! Gideon’s voice was like the least memorable thing about her. Bargaining her voice for a well-shaped set of human legs--that really should have worked in her favor.

"careful fear and (un)dead devotion" by sinshine (23k)

[Gideon and Harrow wake up back in their own bodies but both of them are missing large parts of their memory. Camilla tries not to kill everyone.]

"who ya gonna call?" by igneousbitch (24k)

“Fret not, honeybun.” Gideon shook her red hair out of her eyes, belligerent. “I’m not totally sold on your whole skepticism thing.” “Well,” Harrow said, ignoring the nickname. She turned to the rest of the room, clearing her throat politely before addressing the empty air. “Ghosts, if you’re real, give us a sign. Make a noise. Move something. Send a shiver down our backs. Whisper softly into Nav’s left ear—” “I seriously fucking hate you.” - (Casual sex and paranormal investigation. Not necessarily in that order.) (or: the Buzzfeed Unsolved AU in which Gideon is ready to fight a ghost, and Harrow just wants to be haunted.)

Long(>30k):

"Beneath a Blue and Foreign Sky" by zoicite (35k)

Harrow has a decision to make.

"A Heart Full Of Sutures" by Rohad (40k)

All Gideon wanted was to get outside and ride her motorcycle. No part of that plan had included eight weeks in Canaan Medical Center with a broken Pelvis and the meanest little doctor this side of the eastern seabord.

"Midnight at the Mithraeum" by zoicite (66k) ♥︎

It'd been two years since Gideon Nav gathered her wine key and her gaming license and escaped The Locked Tomb, a speakeasy-style cocktail bar managed by the hateful Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Now, dealing tables at The Mithraeum Hotel & Casino, things were really looking up. So when Gideon scored a date with the most beautiful showgirl in the Gilded Halls of Ida, the last thing she expected was to wake up married to her old nemesis and former coworker. The story starts the night of Gideon's date and alternates between the events leading up to the wedding and the weeks that follow as Gideon tries to navigate life married to someone who claims to want nothing more than to forget she exists.

"Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" by pipistrelle (90k)

Being the journal of Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, chronicling the journey of the Emperor's warship Cenotaph on its hunt to slay an immortal Resurrection Beast. Or: the Moby Dick crossover AU that nobody asked for.

"The Darkest Night, The Brightest Light" by eternaleponine (50k)

Harrowhark has known for a long time that her home's financial situation is dire, and not getting better. She has plans to fix it all, but can't implement them until she turns eighteen in a few months. When her parents announce that the best (perhaps only) way to save Drearburh is to marry off its heir, Harrow realizes the timeline has changed and she needs to take action now to save her home... and herself. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all. Enter Gideon Nav. Detested foe, and Harrow's only hope.

"putting your fist through a thick sheet of glass (i know you don't want to)" by oretsev (46k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Gideon Nav have always been at each other’s throats, and the animosity has only intensified since the death of Harrow’s parents. But when a car accident leaves Gideon without any memories of her past, Harrow sees a chance at the clean slate she’s wanted for years. Becoming involved in Gideon’s recovery assuages some of the guilt, but as she and Gideon become closer and increasingly involved in each other's lives, Harrow worries that some of her secrets may be more than she can atone for.

Ongoing:

"semi-charmed kinda life" by strangedelight (182k+) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Gideon asked questions. Harrow surprised her with answers. They reached an agreement; they decided to be smart, to be patient. Gideon made a promise, Harrow gave her one in return. Wait and see. OR the year is 1994, and Gideon and Harrow leave their small town for life in the city. OR team 69 roommates au only this time it's the 90s

"Intern the Sixth" by apocalypticTaco (33k+)

ADDRESSING THE HEIR TO THE NINTH HOUSE, OR PRESUMED EQUIVALENT: PALAMEDES SEXTUS, HEIR TO THE SIXTH HOUSE, PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS TO THE NINTH AND REQUESTS A FORMAL ARRANGEMENT WHEREIN HIS MASTER WARDEN AND CAVALIER APPRENTICESHIP UNDER THE NINTH FOR FOUR YEARS IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SIXTH’S SERVICES. *Details to be discussed. Please turn to back page. Timeframe variable. Services and agreements variable upon the Ninth's request. An internship of this caliber is highly unprecedented and likely unheard of, but any information valuable to the Ninth and into the Tomb will remain undisclosed upon request; Primary experience and study is required as the Master Warden has already decided upon such being his final thesis prior to his end studies. No takebacks, no denials. Pleased to meet you. Palamedes Sextus, Heir to the Sixth and Master Warden and Camilla the Sixth, Cavalier Primary and Warden's Hand of the Library

TO THE MASTER WARDEN: FORMALLY REJECTED.

"What's Eating Gideon Nav?" by labyrinthineRetribution (40k+)

After a miserable fifteen years at Blessed Saint Anastasia's School for Girls, Gideon's luck finally changes.

"We Have Always Lived in the Apartment" by labyrinthineRetribution (171k+)

John looks up from his Jack and Coke in drunken curiosity. "What's with the face, Harrowhark?" he asks, genuinely concerned. "Contrary to popular belief," Gideon butts in, "her face just fuckin' looks like that, bitch." She tends to use "bitch" as liberally as commas when off her ass. "You're piss drunk," you shoot back. "And you, my good bitch, are just as contemptible as the day you clawed your way up from Hell." - It is Harrowhark Nonagesimus' birthday, and it only gets worse from there.

PWP (basically):

"I'll hold in these hands all that remains" by corvidlesbian (6.5k) ♥︎

“Do you want me to try?” Gideon said. “What?” “You got all hot and bothered without me trying. Do you want me to try?” Their newfound habit of cuddling gets interesting.

"sting of a wasp" by brightbolt, imperfectlyctor (42k) ♥︎

"You’re a virgin,” Gideon said, testing it out. "Huh." Harrow didn’t like the sound of that huh. She knew Gideon’s noises, and that was a thoughtful, sinister huh. That was the same huh she’d made before putting canned tuna in Crux’s work boots. Her eyes narrowed. “What.” Gideon cocked her head to the side. “Is there a reason you’re waiting?” There was no judgement in the question— only genuine curiosity. Perhaps it was this that made Harrow more inclined to answer. “I don’t have the time to look for someone new,” She shrugged. “And my available pool is… somewhat limited.” “Well,” Gideon said, with just a hint of conspiracy in those glittering golden eyes. “If you ever want to change that, you have my number.” What? What? Harrow blinked. “What?” Or: the five times Gideon and Harrow successfully bone, and the one time they don't.

"Suckle, Honey" by zoicite (7.9k)

“You crave my juice,” Gideon accused. “I do not crave your juice.” “Fuck, you do though. You went off to explore that study alone, without your cavalier, using a key that I nearly gave my life for, and then you snorted some powder that made you crave my juice! Harrow. I never would have let you sniff powder from a ten thousand year old jar.” This was untrue--Gideon probably wouldn’t have noticed Harrow breathing in a puff of jar powder until it was too late--but it sounded like something Camilla Hect might say, so Gideon went with it anyway. Camilla definitely would have stopped Palamedes from accidentally sniffing old as fuck Eighth House jarred juice addiction powder.

"Five Times We Hatefucked and One Time We Didn't" by rnanqo (8k)

“Fuck you,” you said. “Fuck me yourself, you coward.” You ran a hand through my hair, fisted it, and pulled my head up. From here I had a spectacular view of your weird blown-out seething expression, like I was the worst thing you’d ever seen. Also a view up your blood-crusted nostrils. Choice. “Maybe I will, Griddle,” you said. “Maybe I will stop fucking you over and start fucking you." Gideon and Harrow realize, abruptly, that their hatefucking is no longer hatefucking.

"a call to motion" by groundedsaucer (coasterchild) (10k) ♥︎

Harrow and Gideon watch a porno.

"put her canine teeth in the side of my neck" by stranded_star (8.8k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus is getting a PhD and a divorce. Against her better judgment, she goes out to the bar to celebrate and meets an incorrigible, absolutely ripped salt-and-paprika butch who takes her home and gives it to her good. To her horror, it's the best night of her life, and she sneaks home with her tail between her legs. Harrow has more important things to worry about - like raising her daughter and building the next stages of her career. But when her daughter's favorite teacher, someone named Griddle, turns about to be the Gideon she met at the bar, she's forced to contend with allowing herself (and her daughter) to find the happy ending she never thought they'd have. Featuring MILF!Harrow, Teacher!Gideon, and a very amused Camilla Hect.

"The Wound That Swallows" by seelieunseelie (7.8k)

Harrow can make out an uncomfortable amount of detail about Gideon’s body beneath. Powerful, strong as ever, yet somehow vulnerable for its supplication below Harrow’s. “Are we gonna get this over with?” Gideon says in a voice softly scratchy. She blushes then when Harrow sits on the edge of the bed. “It will hurt,” Harrow says. “Yeah,” Gideon says. “I think I can handle it.”

[fastcardotmp3]

Steve is the first person Robin ever comes out to.

And it's good, it goes better than she ever could have hoped, it goes miraculously well considering just how reckless she had been about it in hindsight, how nearly accidental and vaguely self-destructive a choice it had been to wield Tammy Thompson's name like that in front of a boy she'd learned to trust within the past six hours.

The thing is, it's good, but she realizes later on that she never actually says the word. The big one, the identifying one, the one that gets thrown around as a slur as often as queer or dyke do towards any girl who dares not present in a specifically feminine way.

It's a bad word, a scary word, a word that drips off tongues like acid and drips drips drips a corrosive hole in Robin's chest every single time because if it's being said in her vicinity that means-- just at any moment-- anyone could figure out--

Robin doesn't care for the act of coming out either in theory or in practice. She believes that anyone she trusts enough to know gets to learn from context clues and anyone she doesn't trust will just never get to know her fully and that's good enough for her.

She doesn't sit her parents down and say, "Mom. Dad. I'm a--"

She doesn't sit her little apocalypse posse down and say, "Just thought you guys should know I'm a--"

She didn't tell Steve.

She doesn't say the word.

Because as much as she's able to accept who she is, it's so hard to claim a word that has been used like a weapon her whole life. Because as much as even her parents and her friends love her for who she is, there is something about saying it like that that makes her wonder if it could sully the support.

As if they'd realize oh, you meant like that...? and change their minds.

It's not until IUPUI, a little house in Indy with Steve, and a little record shop next door to the deli where Eddie got a job slicing meat that she starts seeing that word, feeling it anew.

There are zines at this shop, the ones behind the counter that she's offered after a few visits and a few conversations that she later recognizes as coded and questioning in nature.

There are stories and art and poetry and that word is all over them.

And the thing is? The thing that has Steve finding her crying in their living room one afternoon as she reads through the stack like it holds the answers to the universe?

Is that it is written and spoken and displayed like the most beautiful word in the world.

It's a compliment and a blessing and a brag. It's a little bit of magic and a great deal of history.

It's her, in the end. It's her and it belongs in her mouth, deserves to be spoken, because too many people are out there misusing it like a disgusting thing when it is divine, fucking love incarnate.

Robin tucks into Steve's embrace, his instinct to hold her even as he tries to understand what has her sobbing in the middle of the day, whether or not he needs to fight anyone about it.

He holds her and she holds him back and it only feels right that it happen like this when she takes his face in her hands, shaky but oh, so certain.

Steve was the first person she ever came out to.

If she's going to let the scary word become her favorite the way it is for the people writing it out so proudly, this is probably the place to start.

"Steve Harrington," she beams at the furrow in his brow, those big concerned eyes that she knows will be confused about this, but she knows will only hold her tighter once she explains. "Steve. Stevie. Guess what?"

"What's up?" he laughs, gathering the joy in her tears like she knew he would, and Robin feels something click in the moment before she says it to him.

Out loud and real.

Very nearly holy.

"I'm a fucking lesbian."

[antiquepearlss]

Southern Headcanons

Old Corona lowkey gives off southern small town vibes so here’s some southern Varian + Quirin headcanons because I’m not projecting at all.

Starting off strong with a classic- Varian loves sweet tea. He makes it homemade and it’s 90% sugar and it’s most of what he drinks. Quirin isn’t a big fan, but he’ll drink it occasionally when Varian makes it. Same with Lemonade; Varian loves it, Quirin is neutral.

If Quirin isn’t working, he’s relaxing in a rocking chair on his front porch.

Varian is the type of person to watch tornadoes instead of seeking shelter. Quirin has to physically pick him up and drag him to the basement.

There’s a creek in Old Corona that the children all frequent. 

Most of Quirin’s diet is biscuits and gravy. It’s the southern old man meal. And southern fried steak. And fried potatoes with gravy. Also coleslaw, and fried green tomatoes, because again, old man.

Varian likes fried chicken and waffles, peach cobbler, pulled pork, chicken and dumplings, and cornbread. He ate coleslaw once and died a little inside.

Neither of them are big fans of catfish or shrimp, they’re just not big on seafood. Ulla was a fan, however.

Neither of them have thick accents, but with certain words it shines through. It also shines through if they talk fast, or for Varian, if he gets really excited. Or it comes out at random moments. Eugene and the girls make fun of him for it, Rapunzel thinks it’s cute, Lance thinks it sounds cool

Quirin has Bible verse decor in his house. He’s not even religious. Those just kind of materialize on your walls the first time you say y’all.

Quirin and Ulla had an apple themed kitchen.

Quirin absolutely has said “bless your heart”

Ulla wore gingham, a lot.

Varian has mason jars. Everywhere. And also reuses those butter containers. He managed to get them to contain acid.

Old Corona has a lot of potholes.

Varian’s favorite place to go as a kid was with his father to Rural King. He loved looking at the machinery and the baby chickens.

Varian knows how to use a riding mower and is quite skilled at it. He tried to teach Eugene (his city kid cousin) and he crashed into a tree.

There is little to nothing to do in Old Corona except for the occasional festival.

Oktoberfest goes hard there.

Quirin isn’t the most social but he does have the southern hospitality down. He’ll invite you in for lemonade or tea. He’ll just, barely talk. (He strikes me as the type to be quiet and awkward in small/intimate settings.) He also brings new neighbors homemade food.

Neither Quirin nor Varian care about sports, but they watch football to feel included. Sometimes they’ll root for opposing teams just for the fun of a playful rivalry with eachother, even though they have no idea what they’re talking about.

Quirin likes old country music. Varian claims to dislike country music, but listens to it sometimes. He never heard the end of it from the girls when they found out he loves Cary Underwood. Ulla had a collection of Dolly Parton vinyl that was passed down to Eugene for….some reason.

Quirin also likes some bluegrass and very much enjoys the blues.

Again, Quirin is not religious, but church on Easter used to be a must. Mostly because it was the only time he and Ulla could get Varian to wear a suit, and he looked adorable in one. (Now all Quirin has to do is ask Rapunzel to make Varian nice clothes and he’ll wear them gladly.)

Ulla planted a lot of magnolias in their garden. And hydrangeas.

Old Corona has a lot of block parties and just, spontaneous potlucks. 

If Varian wasn’t with his parents he was probably with the resident Old Person in Old Corona. He didn’t have many friends growing up, but older people loved him.

Quirin watches Andy Griffith.

Old Corona has one gas station and it has the best slushies. Whenever Rapunzel visits they go there.

Eugene kinda hates Old Corona. He’s a city boy. Rapunzel likes the open-ness.

Old Corona is the prettiest in the Fall.

Varian conveniently spills acid on nearby confederate flags.

[small-sinclair]

Wolves knocking at the Door

poly!Sinclairs x y/n

Tw: reader is not a wolf (only the brothers), Bo being himself (soft at the end), mentions of past killings, blood, reader gets smacked

This is a free style a/b/o prompt because no one is going to stop me and I have free will over myself. It came to me while I was eating chips and scrolling through @sketchy-rosewitch's blog the other day.

Days before a full moon are the worse in the Sinclair house, and you've taken good note of it. Bo gets angrier like throwing things across Ambrose, Vincent's kills become more violent and bloodied, and Lester just has a hard time keeping his thoughts lined and together, making it harder for him to focus or do his job.

When they were at home with you, they did their damnest to keep their emotions in check. They just wanted to make sure you didn't see the worse in them, that's all; and you knew that they were working so hard on making sure you never see that side of them.

But it's different tonight as the full moon was coming tonight, and you knew that they'll be... different. You knew they'll be out, hunting, fighting, terrorizing, killing--you knew it all but you weren't afraid. Besides, you knew that they'll never hurt you, and they make sure you have Papa's silver bullets and the blessed pistols with you just in case they even tried.

The morning started with Bo's cursing and a coffee mung breaking; that's what woke you. As you came down stairs, you were met with a broken mug on the floor and Lester in a headlock, Vincent pulling Bo away from his brother, and feverish blue eyes filled with fire and brimstone. The power he has in that pose is enough to make you want to run away, but you know better than that.

"Bo!" You snapped as you hurried into the kitchen, but you kept your distance when Vincent shot you a look. "Bo, let him go!"

With a tug, Bo was ripped off Lester's neck, Lester falling to the ground on his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air as he held his neck. As Vincent backed away with bis brother locked in his grasp, you came to Lester's side and tried to help his steady his breathing.

You haven't seen Bo like this since the night you first saw him kill, when he first dug large canine teeth into your friend's neck, ripping it out to leave her to bleed out on the church floor.

You rubbed his back as he coughs, leaning into your touch. "...betta get outta here, darlin'," he breathed as he heard Vincent losing his grip and Bo stomping over to him. "Git--"

Before you had time to react to his warning, a large hand came down, and the world went quite. The birds stopped singing and the marsh stopped its song. The clouds covered the morning sun and the wind hit the house with full force. A bomb might as well gone off in the house as you faced the other way, holding your face, as the sting filled over your skin. Tears burned like acid as you cried silently. Before anyone could say or do anything, you stand and race out of the house, running down the street towards the church.

Where you still in your pajamas? Yes.

Did you care? No.

When you make it into the church, you find yourself running past their dead mother and hiding in the confessional, locking it. Going to the back of the booth, you tried to make yourself small before hiding your face in your legs, crying. He promised he would never do that, he promised to be a good man and his brothers agreed...

But how much does a promise cost, y/n? What's the payment at the end? They're beast, monsters. They are born to kill and worship the hunt on a full moon. Monsters don't keep promises.

But the Sinclairs do. They're better than this, and they'll prove it.

In a few moments, you hear the door to the church bursting open and heavy footsteps. "Y/n?" Bo called breathlessly, eyes scanning wildly over the pews and walls. "Darlin'! Come out--"

"No!" You yelled back, hugging yourself tightly. Your voice echoed from the locked confessional, and you heard Bo's boots coming to the door. He knocks, but you just yell, "Leave me alone, Bo!"

"Y/n, please com' out!" Bo shouted back, his right hand still burning from the sting. "Come out. I'll do anythin' ya want! Anythin'!" He kneels in front off the door and took in your scent, and he wanted to throw-up. He did this to you. He did this. He loves the smell of fear from his victums, but not from you. His hands rested on the door and he leaned against it. "Honey, please? Open up?"

At first, you don't move from your spot. You looked at the locked door then back at the handle. If you do open up, what'll happen? You're nervous he might yell, might feel different--

Then you hear something you thought you'd never hear: Bo whines at the door, his head thumping against the wood. It's heart aching and it tears you apart to hear him whine like a hurt puppy. You hear it again before the whine turns into him crying at the door, head still pressed against the wood. "Please, darlin," he whispers. "How do I make it better?"

You hear boots shuffling across the church floor, and Lester voice rings over, "Y/n? Ya okay? Where are ya, sweet pea?" His voice falls when he sees his brother at the confessional door, and he frowns. "Y/n?" You're not sure if you should answer him until you hear him joining his brother's side. you see their shadows through the crack on the door. "Yer okay, sweetness," he said against the door. "He didn't mean it." Lester rested his head against the door as well, closing his eyes. He didn't like how you smelled when you left the house in a panic, and he didn't like it now. "Honeydew?"

Then Vincent joins. You know his boots anywhere as he enters. You can hear him sniff the air then whimpering lowly as he joins his brothers. You could see his shadow behind his brothers as he placed a heavy hand on the door, resting his head against the cold wood.

"Sweetheart, please?" Bo's voice cracks. "Open the door? I gotta make sure yer okay."

"I'm not okay, Bo," you answer, your head raising from you hugged knees. "You hit me."

"He didn't mean it!" Lester replied. "Honest!" He's just as scared as his brothers. If you don't open up, he'll make sure Bo pays for everything. He hates hearing you so hurt and sad. That hit was supposed to hit him, not you.

"I wanna hear it from him," you said, wiping your eyes. "I want to hear it from Bo."

Bo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ya know I didn't mean it."

Not good enough.

"Then I'm not coming out," you huffed. You're standing your ground on this one.

Vincent looks down at his twin then nodded at the door. He'll do anything to make you stop crying, to take away your pain and have it as his own. Vincent hated seeing you crying, and he hated that he wasn't strong enough to keep the other Alpha at bay. He just wanted to hold you in his arms, bury your head into his chest, and never let you go until you died. He promised himself that he would kill anyone that hurts you, and here he was, glaring at his brother.

Bo begs this time, and he sounds a bit pathetic, "Y/n. I'll do anythin'--"

"Then tell me you didn't mean it, Bo," you said again, looking at the door with hopeful eyes. "Tell me you won't do it again." You sniffled and said, "If you ever want to hold me or kiss me or fuck me, then you'll say it. If not," you looked around the room then back at the door, "I'll stay in here until you say it."

Bo grits his teeth then looks at the closed door as if he was kneeling in front of God himself. He looks down as he felt Lester's hand on his shoulder, nodding at the door.

"'M sorry, Y/n," it doesn't sound forced as he looked at the door. "'M sorry, darlin'. I swear to ya I'll that I'll never lay a hand on ya again. I promise, y/n... I swear it to you." He leans against the door and listens. "Darlin', please? Open up? Le' us see ya."

Silence filled the church before they heard you unlock the door. Bo sits up in attention, his bright blue eyes glowing and scared. Lester's plays with his hands nervously, his brown eyes were mixing to a hazel. Vincent... to say he was nervous was an understatement; he was terrified of your next words and actions. You were the best thing to happen to this little pack.

When Bo looked up to see your face, he was horrified. His hand print marked your perfect skin, and he hated himself more when he saw your puffy and red eyes trying so hard to smile down at him.

He looked as if he was a child reaching up to he picked up by his parent when his hands reached for yours, and you took them. You stepped closer and hold his head against your stomach.

''M sorry, darlin," he murmurs against your pajama shirt. "'M so sorry."

You comb through his hair, closing your eyes, and felt Vincent's arms wrap around your shoulders, taking in your scent, and Lester's hands rubbing your arms gently. Feeling your boys around you always made you feel safe and special.

You four stay like that for a while until you break the silence. "Can I cuddle you before you three have to go out tonight? Please?"

And they're all for it. They walk with you back to the house, Lester taking off his shoes to give you so you don't have to walk over the stones. Vincent holding your hand while Bo follows behind, listening to you talk about your plans for tonight while they go on their hunt.

By the time all of you are back at the house, they head to your room, the room that you share with Bo, and get ready, letting you go under the covers first to get comfortable.

First, Lester crawls in, snuggling up to your left side. Second, Vincent holds you and Lester. Third and last, Bo joins on your right side, getting a side all to himself.

For a while, you stay silent, letting the birds sing and the marsh start its song again.

Bo litters your bruised face with soft, gentle kisses while you run your fingers through Lester's hair, him humming to the touches. Vincent is looking at you as if he's seeing you for the first time. Before long, he takes off his mask and kisses your jaw.

Before you know it, you're asleep between them once more. You're safe and loved from them, and that's all you need.

When you wake up, the only one there is Bo, and your resting your head against his chest. Warm arms wrap around you protectively as he looks up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

When you look up, you can see his first stages of transformation: large brown and soft wolf ears sticking out of his hair, his nails longer and sharper, his blue eyes turning to a deeper blue mixed with purple, small patches of fur littering over his body. He'll have to leave soon before the afternoon sun sets to join his brothers.

Mainly to make sure Lester is okay while during his transformation. It always hurts him the most, so he'll need some support from his two Alphas.

When he feels your eyes on him, he looks down with sadness mixing his eyes. "'M so sorry, darling," he whispers, scared to startle you. "Forgive me?"

"I'll forgive you if you promise to start reading those anger management books I gave you." Then you thought. "Or listen to some ASMR audios."

"I'll take the books, y/n." His voice was rougher and deeper as the day grew.

You snuggle into his shirt, feeling the warmth and his heartbeat against your skin. "Works for me." You look up at him. "I love you."

He brings your face up to his as he places a kiss on your lips. "I love you more, y/n."

[arrenlebanen777]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS 3333

🌑I’ve seen that people who have 18 degrees in their personal planets have a tendency to not take responsability for their actions, It's as if the stress of taking that responsibility fills them with guilt so they evade it, but this is not in all cases of course. 🌑Venus conjunct Uranus: These people are super creative and have genius energy, they are blessed with a good social life and magnetism, their love life is weird/erratic, they are very perverted in s*xuality but is just because they get bored very rapidly in that area of life so they need to get mentally stimulated constantly, they fantasize about romantic life but they have an escapist tendency too, they are all about excitement and taboo because they can’t stand being bored, these are the people who ghost and gaslight their partners, they have difficulty with affective responsibility but they don't realize it because they talk to a lot of people and they confuse stimulation with health, they have ego wisdom but no soul wisdom, they are prone to cheating because if they have a relationship with you but they feel an intense attraction from the guts for someone else they will most likely throw the relationship with you out of the window by going in search of the new, because remember Venus also rules superficiality and yes, it's harsh but you have to see that Uranus aspecting personal planets (especially conjunctions) are not all roses and rainbows, it can make someone quite ego driven/erratic and irresponsible. 🌑If you have Mars and Uranus as Dominant planets, or in conjunction: You have a very electrifying personality, with a strong Libido and you like to be very shocking, maybe you have nervous tics from all this erratic/electric energy, You have a rather acid, dark and full of taboo sense of humor, You have to control your impulses because they can be very strong and you have a scary temper, you could be very eccentric and you have a fairly large humanitarian / altruistic sense, literally warriors of the well-being of humanity/future. 🌑If you have 14 degrees in personal planets: You are going to be humble, because this degree is all about humbleness and ambition, It gives you a lot of sensuality and power, but to earn it you have to go through some humbling experiences and after those experiences you will become a high caliber human being. 🌑Yes, Chiron is very similar to North Node, they are expressed almost the same, so do not underestimate someone who has Chiron conjunct personal planets (or planets in general), because they come to develop the power/potential of that planet in this life to the maximum, for example: Mercury conjunct Chiron: They come to develop the power of their minds, so their minds can become very very powerful, literally have x-rays in their eyes that can see everything that is hidden and can develop a very sharp intuition with a very powerful intellect that can understand and master any knowledge. Pluto conjunct Chiron: These people came to reclaim all the power they have ever been disconnected from / lost due to external abuse, the life journey of these individuals is to take back their power and recognize what real power is, Plutonians have competition here (lol) but this is only if the individual is dedicated to their healing process, otherwise they will only be disconnected from their power and in a lot of pain. 🌑Uranus in 8th house is the most and real freakiest of all, freakiest to the heart (this is heightened when is in Fixed Signs), but they could be very possessive / jealous people, in life or death situations (extreme situations) they have a very calm/detached attitude/approach to that situation, they will go through a very powerful process of detachment, they have the power of the phoenix, and they usually have information that is not from these times (future), they can literally see the future of humanity especially if Neptune is in the 8th house too, and the degree of Uranus will say which part of the body they have a fetish with. 🌑Ruler of the 8th house in the 12th house or viceversa (Vedic): They grow when they are alone, their intelligence expands when they are in solitude, groups overwhelm them, they have a very powerful intuition, they can see everything that is hidden and they are talented to manage/understand/integrate everything spiritual, social events only serve to lighten their load, but they already know very well how society work, so there is nothing there that will help them grow more than being more light-hearted/street smarted. 🌑People with Mars in the 7th house tend to have misshapen bodies, or asymmetrical bodies. 🌑If you have placements in the 6th house and/or 12th house: It is difficult to own this placements because they are a gift/service to the world, so whatever planets you have here are going to have a strong impact on the world and in the karma of the world. One of the biggest needs with these placements are the need of “Contribution”. For example: Mercury in 6th/12th house: their intelligence serves a lot to the world and they have to put their intelligence to service otherwise they feel very empty or depressed. 🌑If you have the ruler of the 1st house in the 6th house please workout, do martial arts, or whatever to discipline your body, otherwise your body could suffer a lot from chronic pains. You come off as a warrior/intelligent/analytical person, and i’ve also notice that these people want/like to fight their battles alone. 🌑Ruler of the 1st house in 0 degrees: You come off as a complex person, often oscillates between being intimidating or naive. 🌑Ruler of the 1st house in Aries degrees (1, 13, 25): You come off as impulsive, high temperament, sometimes people think you're angry and that's why they don't approach you, although you are quite sexy, people know you have strong leadership skills, and you have a very rich/confrontal personality. 🌑If the Ruler of the 1st house is conjunct Chiron: Maybe you are unaware of how people perceive you and you could think that you have to work harder the traits of the degree of the ruler, for example: Ruler of the 1st house in Scorpio degrees(8, 20) conjunct Chiron: You could think that you need to work very hard to be more secretive, reserved and mysterious although you are that already. 🌑Plutonians hates when someone corrects them, they take it quite personally, although they are intelligent enough to be able to discern even if they don't want to. 🌑If you have Sun square Saturn in your Solar Return chart: You could see how authority figures abuse a lot of their power that year, whether they are adults, family members or people with high social status, you might tend to get into a lot of arguments because of this and when you're right they might try to shut you up, It can be a difficult time/period with authority figures, but the best way to alleviate this tension is diplomacy and honesty. 🌑Saturn square NN/SN: These people have a lot of discipline but are very pessimistic, They were probably abused by authority figures in past lives and have to heal from those traumas before they can be successful in this life, all the superficial attempts to get recognition in this life are going to be quite in vain or achieve very little, because the real recognition they have to gain in this life is from their own emotions/themselves, In this way they can become more "integrous"/realistic and could achieve great things in life but that will not be very recognized by the public eye, what I mean by this is that their life path is probably not to be famous like actors/artists but rather as Masters such as Yoga Teachers, Great psychologists or even great entrepreneurs. At first looking, this aspect could be very dense/sad because the native have to face a lot of obstacles, and they have to work really hard to attain things that people normally attain/have easily, It can feel like life is not on the native's side, but remember that squares are a lot of energy, so if the native embraces their Saturnian energy, they can become beasts or people with lot of internal power, but their path is to heal their touch with reality & life, and they are going to be stoics whether they like it or not. 🌑NN/SN in Scorpio degrees(8, 20): You came into this life to be more reserved, to set boundaries, to experience sexuality and earn lot of money (it can be inheritance money or from your own work), you came into this life to manage your libido, which can be exceptionally high or low, you came to learn what power is (creative/sexual energy) and take charge of your power, because there can be a complex relationship with it and you may even hate it, because you come from a life of many abuses and transformations, so "power" can tire you or it may be a topic that does not call your attention so much. 🌑Chiron Trine MC: These people have a very healing aura, people could get addicted to them because they have a very special and healing energy when you are with them, people could see their problems but they have a very regenerative nature that helps their reputation being recognized for being quite strong/healing and transformative people, their reputation could have a very impactful energy onto the world, they can easily be Spiritual Masters, Sometimes they give off deity-like vibes, especially if Neptune is also aspecting MC, even if they are arrogant, rebellious, immature, people will still see the best potential in them. 🌑Sun in 1st house: These people are blessed with good health, have prominent/sharp jaws, main character vibes, have very magnetic and radiant personalities that grab anyone's attention quickly, are quite up front and have a lot of masculine energy, they have quite remarkable eyes, and they have a lot of energy, in fact if they don't do something with that energy they can be fatigued or even go into depressive states. 🌑People with Mars and Sun aspecting Saturn could be like this / could give off this serious energy when adults: Women: https://tenor.com/es-419/view/makima-chainsaw-man-gif-23020557 Men: https://tenor.com/es-419/view/nanami-nanamin-jujutsu-kaisen-jujutsu-anime-gif-18620728 🌑The degree of the Rising in the Ascendant Persona Chart could give you a hint of how you look physically, for example: Pisces degrees (12, 24) could give you a very ethereal look, like a fiction character, alluring and with a soft but spiritual presence.

🌑The Anti-vertex could also give you a hint about how people perceive you but to be more precise look at the rising sign/1st house of the Anti-vertex Persona chart, that could tell you more about how people interacting with you may perceive you, your first impression and how could be your physical presence as well. 🌑In the Juno Persona chart: The rising sign and the 1st house in general can show you how is your reputation after people have been in a relationship with you (or gotten to know you a little bit more). 🌑If you have North Node in 1st house or in the 1st house of your AC Persona chart: You come into this life to be self sufficient, you need to be egoistical, prioritize your path/ your needs and your dreams over other people, you’re gonna learn to be more self-reliant/independent, Life will remind you of how strong you are always, and you need to work on your self confidence too. People may perceive you like to know you is fated and also you have special aura and presence. 🌑Sun in 5th house: You guys need to find your Golden heart, you don't need to do anything to be seductive, you already are, you come to free yourself from all family burdens/karmas/limitations/unconscious patterns, you came to be independent, literally stars on earth, you just have to embrace yourself as who you are at the core, making attempts to seek attention/validation will only result on the contrary “emptiness”, You're the brightest when you’re just "being". 🌑Scorpio Suns with Fire Mercuries are like Hades from “Hercules”, dark clowns with very expressive even extroverted/histrionic expressions/personalities, also this combination makes them a bit Short temper but very intelligent people: https://tenor.com/es-419/view/hercules-hades-thumbs-up-good-great-gif-5148075 🌑Pisces and Sagittarius Moons: These people do not like conflict, they avoid it and can be quite passive aggressive, they are generous but they tend to have problems of overindulgence, they can be very good with white lies and they can get away with it and they have problems saying no, I don't know why but it is as if their emotions were protected by divinity, lucky mfs haha. 🌑Libra Moons: Actually these guys get into conflicts a lot because they are like mediators, they will balance anyone who is very arrogant or very depressed and will bring them to a state of equanimity or reality, and believe it or not they can be more aggressive than Aries Moons because they see all the imbalances in the world and they will fight for equanimity, but sometimes they can have trouble feeling their emotions clearly like all Air Moon because emotions run very fast like their minds. 🌑When you live your second Jupiter Return you start to live more from your outer planets, you start gaining a lot of wisdom. 🌑The Moon and The IC are your core. 🌑Eros (433) conjunct IC or conjunct Moon: These individuals are very s*xual persons at the core, they need to have s*x and make love on a daily basis otherwise they start to enter in depressive states because is one of the most important needs here, very seductives and the relationship with women is charged with a lot of s*xual tension/energy whether they like it or not. 🌑”This is a very specific observation” / people who have asteroid Utopia(1282) conjunct SN and Olympus(22754) conjunct NN: These probably are really old souls that came from a perfect world like Lemuria, Sirius or Atlantis, so they could have a hard time with reality, and they probably feel a lot of problems with being “human”, but in this lifetime they came to make a big change, they literally came to build the foundations of the new Era (aquarius) and become what they once were (gods/enlightened beings), maybe they will take a place in the place of the ascended masters or they could be remembered like a deity that was on earth, quite powerful and special individuals, probably when they follow their life path (NN) they will embody characteristics of one of the gods of Olympus. 🌑Mercury conjunct Pluto/Lilith: They have special and very seductive/sexy voices, usually have feminine energy in their speech and they can also curse people, if they hate you they can manifest horrible things around you but their obsessive thoughts destroys them first, so they have to be careful with this and take care of their mental-health because they have minds that carry a lot of power and they can keep a lot of trauma in their minds/thoughts patterns. 🌑It’s easy to notice if a Scorpio Mars, Pluto conjunct Mars, Lilith conjunct Pluto, Randi conjunct Pluto or any person with S*xual asteroids conjuncts Pluto had s*x or not, their bodies literally glow up after s*x, it doesn’t matter if the experience is good or bad, they glow with s*x. 🌑Sometimes the degree of your Venus can show you at what age you fell in love for the first time, your first love and maybe at what age did you know what true love was (it's a vague theory). 🌑Do you know why a lot of Scorpio Suns have s*xual problems?...Because from a very young age they were forced to see/deal with the bullshit of the opposite sex that makes/made them lose trust in people, and since is a water sign deep bonding and loyalty is super important in intimacy, but they don’t trust too many people and that’s why they could have s*xual issues (because once they were hurted they close their hearts) and they could have a fuck boy/hoe phase or even being celibate for long periods of time because of this. And one of the lessons they have to learn is to love with the soul not with the neediness or fear, and that can be a very strong step for a Scorpio, this also applies to Scorpio Moons/Venus. 🌑To all my friends with Lilith Opposite Ascendant or Conjunct Descendant: people can exaggerate a lot if you hurt them, and many times people will think that you are hurting them when in reality you are not doing anything, people can project all their shit on you, In love affairs, your partners can fluctuate quite quickly between loving and hating you and they can be quite intolerant of your mistakes, so let me tell you that it is not all your fault, all that suffering that the other person is feeling is not your fault, it is the other person's problem/trauma that they are projecting on you and it’s triggered by your presence. 🌑This is a personal observation: but when you have Venus Conjunct Mercury in your Solar Return chart you could be a lot more intellectual and rational in love matters, actually less attentive and less inclined to emotional people, you would love someone with a strong intellect or very intelligent, i say personal because i have this in my Solar Return chart of this year and I have had problems with people for being less emotionally attentive and to the needs of others, In fact, I am not very interested in emotional people now and I am much colder for love relationships, but very affectionate for friendships. 🌑Cardinal signs (Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn) are very powerful placements for Mars to be, and to strangers Mars express the energy of the opposite sign until you meet them more closely for example: If you have Cap Mars to strangers you appear more sensitive, shy and emotional (Cancer influence) until they know you more and they start to see your grounded, ambitious, mature and very disciplined nature. 🌑I’m going to release some criticism: I find it crazy that I generally find many posts with too many likes of super superficial astrological observations, only about sex/sex appeal... but it's also reasonable, because most people who like those posts are not over 25. But I also admire When there are posts from people who really know about astrology, it shows in their writing and observations, they do have the largest number of likes and they are well deserved.

🌑Another thing guys, if you feel me so harsh or even pessimistic/bluntly is because maybe you are feeling my Saturn in 11th house and MC in Aries!

[ouraniatm]

❛ holy fucking shit, idia, i've never loved you harder than i do right now. a MEME ROBOT MOM? 10/10, WHAT THE HELL?! DO I GOTTA ASSIST!?? WHAT DO YOU NEED ME TO DO, BABE, PLEASE, JUST LET ME HELP IN THIS GENIUS IDEA OF YOURS! ❜

@dokitm / @ouraniatm replied:

cora in the back: DUDE YOUR MOM'S A MEME ROBOT!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? LEMME GET HER NUMBER?

"I'M GONNA MAKE A MEME ROBOT MOM!!!!"

[sloowoorants]

Thoughts After Watching Hannibal

About two months ago, I saw some Hannibal fan art on Twitter. It looked pretty cool, and I just so happened to have some free time, so I thought: why not watch the show? It's just a normal crime thriller, right?

I expected the type of show that's relatively light yet still intriguing, filled with sarcastic humor, starring a typical grumpy-but-genius protagonist. (This is vaguely the type of show that I’m generally into: Inside Job, Sherlock, House, Suits, Mr. Robot….)

I was so, so wrong.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for the bat-shit crazy fever dream of a show that Hannibal is: bizarrely artistic gore, incessant cannibalism puns, completely unpredictable romantic subplots, torturous sex scenes that feel like angry acid trips, a multitude of absolutely unhinged psychiatric conduct, esoteric cryptic dialogue which require five google searches and a whole thesaurus to understand, two lesbian murderers "milking" a guy for his sperm to inherent his family heirloom, long scenes of intense and unabashed eye-sex, clumps of dog fur sticking to sweaty bed sheets…and a literal fucking social worker crawling out of a horse, alive and breathing and everything, covered in whatever acrid substances come from a horse uterus.

I ended up watching all of Hannibal in a week, hastily devouring it in just a few sittings.

In no way am I a professional film analyst or critic, but after having stayed up for nights on end, every single one of them spent under my blanket binging episodes until devilish hours of dawn (and barely comprehending the plot from the sheer speed I was consuming the show at, but also from sleep deprivation), I have cultivated a skull full of thoughts on this blessed masterpiece, and I need to rant about it. Which is exactly what this post is.

I am going to separate this ranty-meta-ish thing (I think a “meta” is what it’s called? I’m not sure, I don’t use Tumblr a lot) into two parts: one, about the representation of morality in the show, and two, about the intimacy between Will and Hannibal. It’s not super well written, my grammar is a bit iffy, but I hope you still enjoy reading this, and remember to take everything I say with a grain of salt. After all, I am just some guy with unrestricted internet access, a keyboard, and a little too much passion for the media I love :)

Part One: Hannibal Lecter’s Morality

Hannibal loves art. There is no episode in the entire show where he doesn’t reference some artistic thing—He plays the piano, he plays the theremin, he frequents the opera, he draws, and he finds peace at the birthplace of the Renaissance, Florence. His love for art is why he kills, he transforms people he considers to be “inferior” and “ugly” and elevates them into art. He is acting out his own sense of justice, creating meaning from the meaningless.

In a way, he must have a certain degree of respect for his victims to do what he does. He could have just killed people and disposed of their body in a dumpster, but that’s not his style. Even if he doesn’t “care” about his victims in a traditional sense, there’s this unique honesty and attentive in his murders. Hannibal cares enough about his victims to make them art. And I’m not just talking about the way he displays their bodies, I’m also talking about his cooking, because a big part of art is also cuisine.

He follows a strict code of his own ethics, it’s almost like he’s acting out his “duty” to kill, to eradicate and transform the lesser “scum” of the world. To be killed by Hannibal is almost an honor, like being killed by God personally, skin to skin. Wouldn’t you feel a sense of divinity and fulfillment if God killed you with his own hands, knowing that he respects you enough to choke you himself, then turn you into an elegant display? Every kill of Hannibal’s is filled with passion – Which poses the question, does he kill out of hatred or not? When I think of violence fueled by hate, I think of sex or race based violence. But that’s not Hannibal. He kills victims he considers to be rude, yes, but is it a humiliation? Is it degradation?

This whole "elevate-swine-into-art" thing is also shown through the way that gore is generally portrayed throughout the show, and not just Hannibal’s murderers. It’s very interesting the way gore pretty in Hannibal. It’s often meticulous. It’s meaningful.

These murders are all aesthetically pleasing. For me, it creates a cognitive dissonance: on one hand, I know that these are painful, brutal murders, one the other, they’re kind of nice to look at, which makes me think—Have I ever for a second, while watching Hannibal, considered the crime scene to be beautiful? Have I ever viewed one of those scenes as art rather than gore? As an artist myself, do I understand Hannibal’s obsession with beauty? And if so, what type of person does that make me?

And I love the way this show makes us really think in Hannibal’s shoes, because of how unconventionally it portrays him as a villain. Usually, shows will provide villains with a backstory, but that doesn’t extend beyond just creating sympathy. In Hannibal, the villain is humanized. We understand him. We empathize. And what does that make of us?

Have I ever, in all seriousness, rooted for Hannibal instead of Jack Crawford? Have I ever thought someone deserved to die in the show? Have I ever looked at what Hannibal was cooking, and thought it looked delicious, despite knowing that its human flesh? Have I ever been annoyed at innocent patients of Hannibal, like Franklyn, because I viewed them from Hannibal’s perspective?

On top of that, Hannibal’s philosophy makes sense. I find myself agreeing to a lot of the things he says.

For example, this dialogue from S2e12 "Tome-Wan", when Will finds Mason Verger and Hannibal in his house, and Hannibal asks Will if he should kill or spare Mason Verger:

HANNIBAL: Murder or mercy?

WILL: There is no mercy. We make mercy, manufacture it in parts that have overgrown our basic reptile brain.

HANNIBAL: Then there is no murder. We make murder, too, it matters only to us. You know too well that you possess all the elements to make murder. Perhaps mercy, too. But murder you understand uncomfortably well.

Does Will only have the capacity for mercy because he has the capacity for murder? Does mercy only have meaning in the context of murder? Is our own compassion a reflection of our violence?

With that said, are the things that I believe to be evil still evil when I throw away my moral believes? Is morality only meaningful in my own perception? And if so, how much am I contributing to evil if I am the one judging it? Do I create the evil that I so adamantly detest? Does deciding what is murder and isn’t not murder require the ability to, and intrinsic understanding of, murder? Can the morality of life and death be so clear cut, separated into different categories?

These are the types of questions that the show makes me ask, which is part of the reason I love the show so much.

I also love how the show puts a dark turn on empathy. Empathy is way too often portrayed as one of the best traits of all time, many claim it to be the most important aspect of mankind, but Will’s empathy is what ends up making him go on a downwards spiral: He is drawn to the darkness because he can understand it. He chose to teach at the FBI academy because he gets to feel like a killer without actually killing.

It made Will miserable, being able to understand killers. It gave him all sorts of guilt and self-hatred and confliction, which was why he was so damn miserable at the start of the show. And on top of that, no one really cared about him, Alana only had a whole “professional curiosity” thing going on (yes, I know that Alana’s character is one-dimensional because Hannibal’s female characters are poorly written, but even with that in mind, I still think that a huge part of Alana’s affection towards Will was in fact just curiosity), Jack was constantly pushing Will past his limits, so the poor dude didn’t have any connections to anyone until he met Hannibal.

And after Hannibal clocks him immediately when they first meet with the whole “your  values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations” situation, Will experiences his first kill: Shooting Garet Jacob Hobbs. Ten. Times. Then he confesses to Hannibal that he liked the feeling of killing him.

But Will can’t let go of his morality, it’s the only thing he’s been able to hold on to this entire time. It’s his lifeline. He holds onto it so dearly because he needs to convince himself that he’s a good person, that he’s not a killer, and that he’s doing the right thing. Yet, he knows that letting that morality go would be so freeing. He wants to. Hannibal helps him let go of it, and we as viewers can’t help but be on Hannibal’s side, because Will’s corruption arc is so gratifying. We like it, deep down we root for it. And what does that say about our relationship with our own morality? Does our morality tie us down? Do we crave to be free?

Will’s killing style is different from Hannibal’s, though. He’s passionate, reactive, and he doesn’t care about the process of killing, or the display body (before you say “the firefly man”, I believe he was imitating Hannibal’s style instead of curating his own), as long as the person is dead. He kills them from a sense of righteousness, like a vigilante justice. Was it wrong for him to find a sense of pleasure in killing Garett Jacob Hobbs? Does finding pleasure in killing corrupt his righteousness? Is it worse to kill out of passion, or kill meticulously? Is Hannibal’s style of killing more respectful? Is Will brutal? Just because Will kills out of a more conventional moral judgement and Hannibal doesn’t, does that make him better than Hannibal?

Another way the show convolutes the concepts of good and evil is using religious symbolism.

For example, from S1e02, “Amuse-Bouche”:

HANNIBAL: Killing must feel good to God too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in His image?

WILL: Did God feel good about killing?

HANNIBAL: He felt powerful.

(Shocking that this line was from the literal second episode. This show got intense so fast.)

And Will’s quote from S3e02, “Primavera”:

WILL: God can't save any of us because it's...inelegant. Elegance is more important than suffering. That's his design.

Is God an artist? Does that justify what He does? Are we only creating taboo out of His works to comfort ourselves? What does it mean to view the world with a purely aesthetic vision?

It’s these quotes that really allow me to see from Hannibal’s perspective: To him, there is no ultimate purpose of the world, there is no end goal to achieve, just the creation of beauty, and that’s terrifying to think about. Even as an atheist, it’s hard to digest the belief that there is no purpose to anything. We spend our entire human lives looking for meaning. But Hannibal doesn’t see it that way. Life and death are just futile processes to create art, and there’s no bigger point behind it. The cycle of life is supposed to be art. In a way, he’s like the God (sounding like Hannibal here), giving people meaning by making them into art, just like how God designates meaning onto every creature he makes.

And the show has a lot of art parallels, not just with Hannibal’s murders. Here are some that I’ve noticed:

(Parallels, in order from left to right, top to bottom: Nude From Back by Picabia compared to a shot of Bedelia from the back, The Persistence of Memory by Dali compared to Will’s clock drawing, Le Double Secret by Magritte compared to how Will saw Hannibal after visual overload from light therapy, Ophelia by Millais compared to Bedelia sinking into the bathtub, Portrait of Pablo Picasso by Juan Gris compared to Will’s hallucination of himself falling apart in a mirror, Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan by Ilya Repin compared to the cliff scene.)

I’m not the only one that has noticed these. Here is cool blog that focuses on artistic references in Hannibal, they’ve also noticed some of the ones I noticed: The Art of Hannibal.

Bryan Fuller probably didn’t do these on purpose while directing. But it still unintentionally solidified this theme artistic divinity. So I think Bryan must, to some extent, understand Hannibal’s obsession with making art out of death, because of the way art is subconsciously woven into the show. I don’t know though, just food for thought.

Anyways. Will, at the end of the show, while being cradled in Hannibal’s arms, both of them covered in blood that appears black in the moonlight, says to Hannibal: “It’s beautiful.”

And all that morality fleets and becomes insignificant in the face of aesthetics.

To Hannibal, beauty is moral. To Will, morality is beautiful. Have the lines begun to blur?

Part Two: Hannibal and Wills intimacy

“For [Hannibal and Will], two people who have been wandering their whole lives through a world in which they have not really experienced any viable form of connection with another human being—because they’re two extremely unusual people—and then they meet.”

-Hugh Dancy quote from SDCC 2013

Hannibal loves will. He drew him and Will as Patroclus and Achilles. He was ready to run away with Will in S2. He surrendered himself in S3 just because Will rejected him. And lets not forget the little twitch in his face when Francis attacks will. And when this dialogue happened (S3e12, “The Number of the Beast is 666”):

WILL: Is Hannibal in love with me?

BEDELIA : Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes. But do you... ache for him?

It is my belief that Will also loves Hannibal, although I understand that it’s not as agreed upon in the fandom as Hannibal’s love is. I think Will is just a little bit more reserved with affection, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Hannibal.

But one thing is for sure—there is a lot of homoeroticism in the show:

So, whether you think the love is reciprocal or not, the show is still, to put it lightly, really gay.

Hannibal’s love for Will is dark, possessive, powerful. Will is the only one that is capable of understanding Hannibal, and Hannibal was willing to risk literally everything just for Will to connect with him. He goes to extraordinary lengths just to make Will a murderer.

But even throughout Hannibal’s ruthless manipulation, which Will eventually becomes aware of, Will still stays for Hannibal. Because deep down, Will was willing to give up his own innocence to have that connection. Because Hannibal was the only person that could really understand Will too, no one else would be able to accept his dark tendencies.

S2e02, “Sakizuke”:

WILL: I don’t know which is worse. Believing I did it, or believing that you did it and did this to me.

(I remember reading a really good post by endlessly fascinated on how Will was actually being manipulative by saying this quote. I can’t find it though. If someone finds it, please tag me!)

Will eventually grows just as obsessed with Hannibal, as Hannibal is obsessed with him. Proof: telling Jack that he wanted to run away with Hannibal, telling Hannibal that he can’t get him out of his head, and that his inner voice is starting to sound like him him, and the “where would I go?” when Hannibal tells him not to leave his side, and the “one could argue, intimately” when Chiyoh asks him how he knows Hannibal, and the “before you and after you” when Hannibal asked him where the difference between the past and the future come from…I could go on forever. Will has never felt so grounded before, not in the way when he’s with Hannibal, with him, Will can see his own reflection, and he’s never been able to see that before.

And oh, the love language between them is violence. Will tries to kill Hannibal (someone tell me how many times, I forgot), and Hannibal tries to eat Will and a plethora of other fucked up shit. But in my eyes, none of those were out of hatred. Both of them trying to murder each other is out of love, out of acceptance, and out of forgiveness.

S3e06, “Dolce”:

HANNIBAL: You dropped your forgiveness, Will.

HANNIBAL: You forgive how God forgives.

And, S3e03, “Secondo”:

BEDELIA: Betrayal and forgiveness are best seen as something akin to falling in love.

HANNIBAL: You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love.

No one can control who they love, or who they forgive, which is why Hannibal forgives Will and stabs him in the same breath. He is forgiving, not letting go.

Will forgives Hannibal too. He forgives Hannibal way too many times, throughout all the manipulation of Hannibal. Think about just how much insanity he’s endured: drugged, gutted, encephalitis abused, hypnotized, framed for murder, a serial killer was sent after his family, had his brain literally almost eaten, and despite all that, Will still forgives Hannibal—it was not a conscious decision. We cannot control who we forgive.

If Hannibal is a fallen angel, then Will is God to him. And God is indifferent, sometimes even cruel. Like Hannibal said himself, good and evil has nothing to do with God. Will forgives Hannibal, but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t want to hurt Hannibal; just like how Hannibal forgave Will, but still gutted him. In that moment, Will forgave indifferently, so he could get back to revenge. They both forgive like blades, they both forgive with pain.

Doesn’t God forgive through punishment? God will forgive you for your sins but you still have to go to hell, right?

Violence is a pillar of stability in their relationship, it’s how they understand each other, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, the smile on Will’s gut a permanent reminder of Hannibal’s hurt, and all of Hannibal’s scars a reminder of Will’s hurt.

I see all of their trying to kill each other is affection. Hannibal doesn’t try to eat Will because he hates Will, he tries to eat to immortalize him, to keep Will as part of him forever.

And through that violence, Hannibal helped Will let go of his morality. Will had spent forever trying to repress himself—Molly was a failed attempt to escape into normalcy. Will definitely thought about Hannibal those years Hannibal was in prison.

S3e13, “The Wrath of the Lamb”:

HANNIBAL: When life becomes maddeningly police, think about me. Think about me, Will.

Will definitely missed the hunger, the violence. We can see this though the passionate way he killed the Red Dragon. He probably held Molly’s gentle hands and desperately wanted to feel something more. To feel something dangerous. Something that could simultaneously revive and ruin him. Molly never understood him the way Hannibal did, and he will never love her the way he loves Hannibal.

He did think about Hannibal when life became maddeningly polite. He probably fantasized about what they’ve done, what they could’ve done, and the feeling of freedom when he’s with Hannibal.

And Hannibal waited for him patiently, staying exactly where he was three years ago. And when Will eventually pushed them off a cliff together, Hannibal showed no sign of resistance, and just let them fall.

“I think [Hannibal]’s feeling that embrace and that’s the first thing that he’s feeling, and even as he’s plunging into the Atlantic, he’s first and foremost thinking about the man he’s holding onto and the man who’s holding onto him.”

–Mads Mikkelsen on Hannibal’s thoughts during the final scene

Their violence is something that we as viewers may never comprehend, but we can all understand their intimacy. Isn’t it what we all want, after all, to be seen?

Anyways...

Hannibal is a great show! 10/10, would recommend. Although, the lighting kind of sucks. Bryan, if there is a season four, please make the show brighter, for the love of God.

Thanks for reading this! :)

[ravendruid]

Hi!! I love your writing - how about “Herbal Tea” with Percy & Pike?

Hi anon! Thank you so much :'D Sorry it took me a bit to write this, but I hope you still love it ^_^

A Safe Legacy

(Read on AO3)

The streets were quiet this evening compared to the same night decades ago. The moon shone down on the cobblestone path that Percival de Rolo, now assisted with a cane, walked on. It was nice to leave the stuffy walls of the castle sometimes and breathe in the fresh air of Whitestone, see the shining leaves of the Sun Tree, feel the warmth of the acid-powered lamps on his face, one of his best inventions. The castle wasn’t as rambunctious as it used to be now that his children were grown—mostly all except for Gwen and Dan, but they were, generally, quiet children—so Percival didn’t feel the itch to leave it as often, but tonight the feeling of unease and overwhelm was worse than the nights the kids decided to play hide-and-seek in the various rooms and alcoves of the castle, often pranking scares to whoever passed by their hideouts. 

The calm of the night should feel like a blessing for Percy when, so many years ago, tonight had been filled with screams of death and undead roaming the streets. The anniversary of the beginning of the Whitestone rebellion was often forgotten in the shadow of its end, but not for Percy. Not while he lived and could still remember what it was like to reach the walls of his home and see the dead tree at its center, the bodies hanging from its branches, the undead patrolling like the Pale Guards did now, his castle—his home—ruled by Vampires and Necromancers. Percy would never forget this night.

Which is why he had to leave tonight. He had to see and hear with his own eyes and ears that Whitestone was safe and sound. And it was.

“Percy?” A soft voice called out to him. A voice Percy would recognize anywhere.

As sure as Catha was shining in the sky, when he turned to the sound of the voice that called him, Percy saw a young—although she was technically older than him—gnome with platinum blonde fun buns atop her head, wearing what seemed to be a slightly flour-dusted light blue dress.

“Pike!” He greeted his old friend back, lowering to shake her hand.

“What are you doing out here so late?” The gnome asked. She looked around, searching for guards, for sure, and when she didn’t find anyone of interest, she gestured for Percy to walk with her.

“Just stretching my legs. I’m not getting any younger these days,” Percy joked. If Pike noticed the deception in his tone, she didn’t show.

They walked the short distance from the square to the little house Pike lived in, not far from the bakery. Even though most of the furniture looked much too small for the space, the gnome still had a few pieces large enough for her friends, especially for Grog. It was quite cozy, really, and the lit fire in the fireplace gave a warm feeling to the environment. 

“Sit. I’ll be right back,” Pike instructed. Percy did as she commanded and picked a larger armchair by the fire. He set his cane aside and, with short grunts, stretched his stiff legs towards the fireplace to warm them. 

Pike returned a few minutes later with a teapot, two teacups and a plate of cookies and scones, set them on the short coffee table, and took a seat on a smaller armchair next to Percy’s.

“So, why were you really out tonight?” She asked, not missing a beat as she poured dark tea into the cups. Percy cringed internally at how perceptive his friend was, but should he really be that surprised that Pike, of all people, could read him so well?

“Tonight is the anniversary of when we arrived in Whitestone to deal with the Briarwoods.” Percy decided not to beat around the bush. 

“Ah,” Pike said, understanding. She handed Percy the cup of tea then poured one for herself.

Sometimes Percy forgot Pike hadn’t been there when they first sighted the city. She hadn't been there when they found the dead bodies hanging from the dead branches of the Sun Tree. Pike hadn’t been there when the undead giants and zombies came out. Even though she had joined them for the fight via astral projection, Pike still hadn't been there when it happened, but that didn’t stop her from hurting just as much as her friends did when they stumbled upon the dark scenario.

“Yeah.” Percy said, sipping on his tea. It was warm and inherently sweet, and Percy could taste the fresh herbs Pike must have used to brew this pot, surely provided by Keyleth at some point.

“Well… The city is doing great, Percy,” Pike shrugged, sipping on her cup with a sly smile. “The bakery is booming with clients, the market is always so full that I have to be careful because people don’t often see me, I’ve had to shoo some kids out of the front of the shop because they were painting on the sidewalk and wouldn’t let anyone step on their art, the little rascals, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard rumors that they are looking for more teachers at the schoolhouse because there aren’t enough for the number of children enrolling this year.”

Leave it to Pike Trickfoot to slap Percy in the face with the truth when he least expected it.

“T–that’s…” Percy couldn’t form any words. He hadn’t been made aware of all this because, honestly, it was mostly Cassandra’s job to know these things. “That’s great to hear, honestly.”

“Mhm,” Pike leaned over to grab a chocolate chip cookie. She dunked it into her tea (which made Percy cringe), then bit the soft side with a pleased smile. “So, you got nothing to worry about, Percy. The city is safe and  growing and happy. And if something was wrong, you would have known by now, right?”

Right, of that he was sure. 

“Besides,” The gnome continued, “It’s not like there aren’t at least three members of Vox Machina living in the city at all times. If anyone was dumb enough to attack the city, would they really do it when all of us are here?”

Pike had a point. The city was well-guarded, of course, between the Pale Guards, the Rifle Corps, the Grey Hunters and the resident Vox Machina members. Not to mention how quickly Keyleth and the Air Ashari would come to their rescue, should the need arise. 

“Whitestone is safe, Percy.”

“Thank you, Pike.” The man leaned over and took the gnome’s small hand in his. It was astounding the difference between them. Pike was older than Percy by at least a decade, yet, due to her gnome heritage, she didn’t look a day older than twenty, meanwhile, Percy, who already was in his sixties, had changed so much. He barely recognized himself behind the bushy, white beard and the wrinkles around his eyes and forehead. 

“Whitestone will be safe even after you’re gone, Percy,” Pike added with a fond smile, placing her hand on top of his.

Percy didn’t know how Pike knew to say that when he himself wasn’t aware he needed to hear it, but her words lifted a weight off Percy’s chest that he didn’t know he had. 

“I suppose that is comforting to know,” The man said, nodding. The worst thing about being the only human, so feeble and young, among his peers was knowing he would surely be the first to go—unless Grog died in a fight before the Matron took Percy—and what that would mean for his legacy.

“Trust us. Believe in us.” Pike’s eyes flickered with tears, a sight Percy wasn’t ready for. “I promise, we will not let any harm come to your home.”

And he did. Percy believed the gnome's words with every fiber of his human being. He knew that Whitestone would be safe and would prosper long after he was buried beneath the earth with his ancestors. Percy knew his friends—his family—would not let any harm come to the home he fought so hard for. Percy knew, deep inside of him, Whitestone was and always would be safe, and so was he.

[titleknown]

KAIJUNE 2024 #1: BLACK HOLE SUN

You know, that's the thing about the apocalypse. Everyone always acts like it's the end of the world.

The word apocalypse doesn't mean the end of all things, it means a revelation, usually of how fucked shit is. But everyone thinks it's all nuclear winter in the Mojave and Thunderdomes. It's weird how noboody ever gets beyond that. The utilities still work, infrastructure's found a way, most states are intact, hell I'm fucking baffled how the fuck they did it but the Internet Archive people and their fuckoff convoy managed to even keep the net up, even if we only can stream in 480p.

It's just a new normal of city smashing fucking god-monsters we can't do shit about but try to nudge off and clean up after their mess. Everybody knows a guy who knows a guy who got their house smashed by King Diamond or The Twist or whoever. Like politics before, but more literal this time. After the kaiju came out, it wasn't societal collapse but a long, long string of fuckups and failures like global warming on acid while things just... keep happening.

I think it's because the poor bastards are scared of the truth, after the revelation, life continues. Mostly. But sometimes... well, I was paid to write this article about Black Hole Sun, and by fucking god I'm going to write it! 

The thing got its nickname from the fact that we kept finding small towns that were fucking gone. Like, not levelled to rubble, not burnt to ashes, just fucking gone. Where there was a place, there was only dust. We figured it was a predator, picking off the weak one by one, and we found a pattern, a spiral shape, so we figured we'd intercept it, take some photos and leave.

The first sign we should have left was the sound. Usually the wake of a kaiju is very loud from everything else running away or very quiet from everything else being dead. But here, it was just... well, the closest I could compare it to was like a whale speaking in tongues, and the tongues were the old-testament kind. The crew swore they could hear it saying something something, but they'd been drinking. Probably a bad idea near a kaiju site, but if you've seen enough shit you know why it sounds reasonable.

Then we saw the environment. It was on a shitty mostly dead highway as it is, but things were just... less there. I know I'm a fucking reporter, I know I do this shit for a living and was even robbed of a fucking pulitzer for it, but I don't know shit better to say what it was like than that it was less. Everything was less itself, colors less, shape less, mass less, everything was just less!

A lot of the shit crumbled to dust when we touched it. I tried to smoke it. I wish I didn't.

It walked up on us when we were asleep. The sound was the first sign, or rather, the absense of it, a silence that rang out loud as a scream. Like it swallowed up the sounds it left behind as it came, like a boat through it's own wake. Most of the crew made it, god bless 'em, two of 'em didn't. It wasn't the ones that were drinking, no, it was if you were close enough, you were gone. Not crushed, not eaten, gone, no rhyme nor reason for why they were the two taken.

I got pictures, of the flat wastes of nothing and the phantasmogoria of the damn thing eating the world it left as it moved, and god if the fucking paycheck wasn't gratifying, but that didn't capture what it was like to see it, not really.

Grandma once said that you could see the Gods emotions on their faces better than you could people's faces, they were too big not to see. Everyone at the time thought she was a mad old bat, but now, I think I get it. When you deal with kaiju as long as I have, you can see their feelings, too tall, too lheavy for this world. 

And looking at that thing, I saw that it felt nothing. Not that it didn't feel anything, that it felt only nothing.

I don't know what it wants, I don't even think it wants anything except nothing, but god fucking dammit I hope we can find to fight back, or else...

-DW Devlin, reporter

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

Ability Notes: they do have the ability to create massive storms of hawking radiation and localized, extremely powerful beams, but most of the time they don't really need to. Most things not only die but are simply unmade just by it walking forward and existing in the viscinity.

Bonus Trivia: They have nothing to do with Liquid Miracle, and the reason for their existence is more akin to what happens when a Ligottian law of physics dreams. Strong will and togetherness can resist its unmaking, but that is rare, and rarer still is the will that can push it back.

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

So, after being delayed for months upon months, Kaijune 2024 is finally here! In October! Better late than never (I lie to myself!) And it was this fucker who probably caused a huge chunk of the delays! The core idea was simple, paper mache orb with legs, but then I complicated it with the nightmare of attaching said legs and also doing stuff by twisting the paper I used for it to give it texture that made it a nightmare to paint. But I think it came off well.

And also, because at least one person I showed it to was confused by how I made it, it's wildly labyrinthine and dumb.In that all the Kaiju of Kaijunes 2023 and 2024 are actual physical props I made and kitbashed, 

Then I took photos of them, using wargame terrain from local game stores as the equivalent of miniature sets, and then did some heavy photomanipulation to fill out the "sky" and do wacky Shenanigans with the lighting. Complex, but I think the results end up gorgeous.

...And, in that grand (exceedingly late) Kaijune tradition, this character and all related narrative elements are under a CC-BY 4.0 license, as long as I, Thomas F Johnson, am credited as their creator. Have fun!

[carmenized-onions]

im trying to write my own carm fic and u just amaze me—how do u write about food so well ? is it prior knowledge, research? i know nothing but i want to incorporate food like u do ♥️♥️ big hearts for the fic!!

im so happy that anyone thinks i write food well so thank you thank you thank you first of all

second of all whatever you write i'm sure it'll be wonderful!!! and third!! it's a mix of a lot let's chat about food for a moment possibly a long moment get over here

I just like food. Just a big fan of food. Very much so a big part of like my culture/family/friends dynamic is showing love through feeding each other/eating together/sharing recipes etc etc-- So in that regard! When it comes to loving food! THat's just me

I have never worked a service job i hope no one can tell. I have friends/family/roommates that work in food service so most RESTAURANT things are from them however MAKING DISHES OOOHHHH

Fuck it, every recipe in Chicago's Kindest and their origins compilation!

Pork Brisket Sandwich!

Pretty much just following the recipe of one of the best sandwiches I've ever had that a dear friend of mine and her partner made me one night. I added the garlic confit because it's Carmen, and I've made confit before so like-- It's good. I think it'd go well. I guess when it comes to things like salt beds, acid/sweet, that just comes from me knowing how to cook a little bit kind of.

Wagyu Steak, Mushrooms, & Croquettes!

This one I straight up yoinked from Daniel NYC, a Michelin Star restaurant who I take from a lot (Yeah it scared the shit out of me when they showed up in the opener of season 3, fucking cameras in my HOUSE good lord.) I found them by looking for reviews of Michelin Star restaurants in New York and found a review of this plate specifically.

I did add the gruyere center to put a slight spin on it, and also made it 3 pieces of steak instead of two. Because One I think 2 cubes is a rip off and 2 I have had croquettes before and they are deeply unsatisfying to chew they need SOMETHING in the middle.

Breakfast Bruschetta !

This is just my own recipe-- I love this to make this for myself on like a weekend when I have the time, or make this for friends when they sleepover. It's good! I prefer feta to parm, also. You also don't have to use basil. Frankly basil is too fragrant. I just have a lot of basil because I grow it.

I don't remember how and why I came up with it-- I think I just really fuck with bruschetta and also love breakfast and eggs.

Oxtail Hot Pocket Wellington

So this is the original recipe from Daniel NYC, however I don't believe they sear it? Reason being, I researched different parts of this recipe and basically-- I knew I wanted it to be bad and go wrong, and specifically be extremely bitter.

And while googling keywords found that searing Fois Gras/Duck can cause a bitter taste! Not sure if it's bitter enough to cause the violent reaction everyone had, but works for me. And then it got altered, of course--

I have no idea if this would work. In theory I think it would. I did make this all up. Feta does have tang. Basil is fragrant. Beef Oxtail Wellington is a thing. I can't see why adding sauces to the internal pastry wouldn't work all that differently than basting with butter?

Again. I guess I just like cooking. But also research! Who is still reading this, who cares. whatever let's keep goin'

Cherry & Lamb :'(

This one was taken from Le Pavillion, Daniel Boulud's restaurant (Yeah, 'Boulud Nod' also scared the shit out of me in season 3), it's also a Michelin Star I believe? I looked over their website/menu after finding them through a directory of restaurants, and I knew I wanted to do something with cherries, so I was really blessed with this recipe from them truly.

Did research on terms I didn't understand, like montmorency and aigre-doux and what the fuck was up with lamb saddle-- I did add the basil because it makes me emotional and Carmen's fuckin obsessed with microgreens as has been made clear.

Oh fuck I did forget drinks are probably also important. We'll talk about the aperol spritz in a second but when it comes to lavender coffee/ black lavender latte-- Man. I just like cardamom and Carmen makes me think of lavender. idunno i'm gay, ANYWAYS

Pop Rocks & Steak :-O

This one is from my brain. As far as I know no Michelin Star place has made something savoury with pop rocks. I did do a dash of research on interesting things people are doing with pop rocks, and did see some fucking psycho on reddit making short ribs with pop rocks, and their girlfriend did think they actually tasted good, and that they caused a salavating of the tongue that made it melt very well

A3 Wagyu - Wagyu is like, marbled steak, and I knew he'd want the quality (it's the BEST!) but in my understanding of food, marbled fat would probably make the pop rocks preemptively melt and so it wouldn't have the same effect-- Looked at a Wagyu chart, found that A3 has less fat more meat, bingo bango

Pomegranate molasses-- It's fruity and it's used in barbecuing all the time-- I figured it'd be the perfect melder of the two concepts. However I do not know how one could make it sorbet thick. that's not my job though, that's carmen's. Would this taste good? I have no idea.

Aperol Spritz, Pink Pepper & Grapefruit

I kept seeing signs on the subway home advertising a ready made canned Aperol Spritz. I haven't actually had one myself. I get a vodka cran and I fuck off, personally. However--

These descriptions are all from research (googlin), and the grapefruit/pink pepper is from me really enjoying the spritz pink pepper scent in the perfumes Missing Person by Phlur and Glossier's You. And I was like oh that'd be nice with grapefruit. They make grapefruit pink pepper bitters? Google search! Yeah they do! Probably would be good. And to me it's very Carmen.

Coconut Emulsion & Souffle

This one was from the fact that I knew I wanted 3 things. I knew I wanted the recipe to come from Chip washing her makeup off, I knew I wanted to have an emulsion, because I think that's a fun word to say, and I knew I wanted it to be coconut-- Cause white, like cleansing balm.

And so, googled Michelin Star Coconut Emulsion. After a lot of scrolling, found Michelin Guide's article on Kei Kobayashi, a chef from Japan earning 3 stars (congrats baby!) and in it, whatdya know?

(combawa is also known as kaffir limes, did some googling, they're known for their zest and stronger scent in comparison to your average lime. )

i've been talking for so long.

what i'm trying to say is i do a lot(? is it alot? idk) of research. I go in with a loose idea of 'i know i want this aspect to this dish' and i go from there!! i also have started taking photos of menus at restaurants and trying to come up with my own shit.

I love food, so it's fun to talk/think about!! I think watching bon apetit back in the day really had an effect on me, honestly. If you want to get into thinking about insane ways to make food, no one was doing it like Sohla when they were so lucky to have her. So i'd reccomend just like,,, OPEN UR BRAIN!! GET WEIRD!! DO A LOOSE BIT OF RESEARCH BUT ALSO SOMETIMES MAKE IT THE FUCK UP!! HAVE FUN!! that's the point !

[dewwydelcra]

You’re not home yet.

It’s the only thought ringing through the miasma of Elliott’s mind, bashing his head and stirring the pits of his stomach with a vile bile on the tip of his flowery tongue.

A madness to the brain, a stab to his heart.

It's been hours, surely you would have been done with the mines, right? You promised him you’ll make it back on time, you vowed until death so why aren’t you here yet..

Last time was more than enough, seeing your deathly pale body upon that white hospital bed was a needle to the eyes that had pierced down into his lungs. He tugged into your worn clothes and pleaded, pleading with a raspy sobble in his throat when you woke, it was a prayer to you almost, for at least let him know where you are going.

He does not want to be the last person to be aware of that.

Forbid this implied omen upon his peace, please. Reaching, a flumbling hand thrusted into the dark of the night upon the spans of sheets. Somewhere in the bed where an empty space lay where you should be… the cold air greets him with a curt slap.

Greedy man he was, too afraid, still a lonely boy still reaching for the comfort of another— For he ran, gliding like a Shire, he flung himself out of human made comforts, reminiscent of warmth that just isn’t you and swept himself down the steps, almost tripping down upon the floors.

It was a spiral, a sickness to his soul as he inhaled and swung the door open, barefoot— a familiar sting rushing back to his eyes. Oh Yoba please give him one blessing upon his life. He tries to be good, he swears upon his namesake. He might have done a few mistakes upon his fleeting life but let him forsake his own morality if it meant another day with you.

Right then and there, his pleas were heard.

You were sprawled upon your shared patio, grimy and utterly filthy with a stench of acid upon your clothes, simply snoring away. A cheek pressed upon the wooden floorboard, a trail of drool dripping out. Looked like you had a hard day, ignorant of the distress you casted upon him. Despite the rather unflattering sight, the relief upon his sore lungs engulfed him in a sea of relief, a crashing wave of pure joy. You came home.

A mantra slamming into his mind as he carries you,shifting you onto his back, slowly wrangled you into his hold to the inside of the house. It was rather cold, wouldn’t the fireplace be better for your tired body, he thought. It was concerning, how limp you were, how deeply asleep as he tries not to wake you, adjusting your bodies until he was on top of yours. A face into your neck, he breathes in your familiarness, a slipping smile grasping upon his expression as he holds you tight. He’ll scold you later to at least sleep in your shared bed, because you got someone waiting for you to come home now.

But this, this was enough, oh how he loves you, dear farmer.

🥺🥺🥺

[free-for-all-fics]

Phantom of the Opera (1943 Film) Prompts! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these ideas and I’d love to read it! 🎭🧡

1. Erique Claudin was madly in love with you in his younger years. He was a very handsome and eccentric man with a great talent for music. You soon became lovers and later told Erique you were with child as soon as the doctor confirmed it. Not wishing your baby to be a bastard and raised out of wedlock, you and Erique made plans to marry as soon as possible, before your stomach could possibly give you away. You later bore a beautiful daughter, Christine. Erique had composed a song for you during your courtship and later added a part for Christine after her birth. When she was little, Erique would play the violin while you’d rock her to sleep and sing an old lullaby that you both knew from Provence.

Unfortunately, you died when Christine was still very young, devastating Erique. He didn’t know what to do without you. You were dead and he was clueless when it came to raising a girl all by himself. Due to his demanding job in the Opera House Orchestra and your untimely death, he didn’t have the proper means to take care of Christine, who was only a baby or toddler at the time. He couldn’t raise her himself, so he either sent her to live with your family or put her up for adoption. Either way, he made sure she went to a good home. Whether it was your maiden name or her adoptive family’s name, she took the name DuBois and never knew of Erique’s true connection to her.

As she grew up, she resembled you more and more each day. Erique never found another love after you. Twenty years of you being gone, and he wished every day you were still with him. When Christine began her singing career as a chorus girl in the Opera, he put his entire fortune towards her education, anonymously funding her singing lessons. She was blessed with the gift of her mother’s voice and every time Erique heard her sing, he heard you. After he’s dismissed from the Orchestra due to his hand injury, he has to withdraw his support from Mademoiselle DuBois only for a little while, just until he can secure another position. But a series of tragic events lead to him committing murder and his face being burned by acid. A man who’s suffered so much loss would do practically anything for the love of his daughter, even kidnap her and try to force her to stay with him in his home in the underground sewers forever. Christine is the last vestige of you, his darling wife, and he can’t bear to lose her.

He tells Christine that he’s her father and he loves her. She’ll now sing all she wants, but only for him. He keeps a portrait of you in his lair and tells Christine all about her dearly departed mother as he reminisces on his much happier memories of being an aspiring musician. He was young and didn’t have much money or commercial success yet, a starving artist. But what little money he had would always be spent on a ticket to the theatre, just to see you. He was in love with you from the moment he first saw you on stage, so his earnings were well spent in his eyes. He could live without food or a roof over his head, but he couldn’t live without you.

“She was in a repertory company. the same actors and actresses doing different plays, a different play every night. First time I saw her, she was a singer who had a broken heart, a lot of sad songs. Had everybody in the theatre crying, whole ocean of tears.”

“I don't think I'd like that.”

“Yes, you would. Everybody did. Next night, she was a dancer. Whirling around the stage, sparkles in her hair, lighter than thistledown. Took my breath away just to watch her.”

“Dressed like that?”

“Yes, child. Artist didn't paint her as pretty as she was.”

“Did you see all her plays?”

“Every one of them. Not just once. The theatre was my courting place. I sat right in the middle of the front row every night, where she could see me. After, I went backstage. Was four days before she even said hello.”

“Oh. Then what?”

“Then it was the wonder, the glory, sunshine, and lightning all at the same time. After we learned we were expecting you, I came to the Paris Opera House to join the Orchestra. With my salary, I built us a house. I then went back and asked her to be my wife. When she said yes, I was so happy I was dumbstruck for an hour.”

“Why did she go away?”

“It's none of your business why.”

“I'm sorry.”

“She tried to retire and stay home to focus her energy on raising you, but there was nothing here but the house...No theatre, no people...no company except for the birds singing. As much as she loved you, she wasn't used to it. I didn’t get home from the Opera House until late in the night. She got the lonesomes so bad she couldn't stand it. Uh...she went away for a little...back on the stage again.”

“In Paris?”

“Ohh...other places. Mostly Paris. Uh, standing around here talking, the spiders will be gaining on me. Be cobwebs in here thicker than before. Come, sit. Listen while I play for you. Did you know I wrote this song?”

“No.”

“I did. That’s why I wanted to teach it to you, but it was not to be. These aren’t just notes, there’s something hidden in the music. These notes here, they represent you. They find their way into every song I play. This phrase…this is your mother.”

“Are you in the song?”

“Somewhere, but it’s not important. You and your mama are all I can hear when I sit down to play.”

2. Erique becomes creepily obsessed with you, a young woman who works in the Opera House and reminds him of Christine’s mother. He may or may not have been able to marry Christine’s mother, but he loved her greatly all the same. He tragically lost her either through her death or her falling out of love with him, and has since never been able to get over her. You encountered him a few times in the foyer, on the stage, or outside the Opera, but that’s all. You were so busy with your daily work that you didn’t have much time to acknowledge him beyond a polite hello in passing. Erique was deeply offended and driven into taking further action with you after being criticized by Signor Ferretti for his love of you. He believed that Ferretti spoke out of turn and dared to insult not just him, but you as well.

“Claudin, if you don’t mind me saying so, you’re a fool. A man of your age might secure a young girl like her if he happened to be the director of an opera company, but a poor violinist…”

How dare he doubt your love or the piano concerto he wrote for you! He may be a man of forty-eight years and past his prime, but you never treated him differently from other men just because of your significant age gap. You smiled at him in passing, happily accepted all of his courting gifts which he spent a fraction of his fortune on, etc. It was Signor Ferretti who was the fool for failing to see how deeply he loved you and how you loved him in return! Unbeknownst to Erique, you mistakenly thought his anonymous gifts were from another potential suitor, a handsome man who was closer to your age. You’ve never thought of Erique in such a way, but he’s too delusional in his fantasies of you to realize this. He secretly has a marble bust made in your likeness that he keeps in his room so he may gaze upon your lovely face while he’s composing. But soon the marble bust isn’t enough. He needs to have the real thing.

Following his first act of murder and tragic disfigurement from the acid, he begins his reign of terror as the Phantom. He steals the master key to the Opera House and, with that key in his possession, he can open 2,500 doors! To say nothing of thousands of closets and cabinets. He can hide everywhere, the entire police force couldn’t find him here. He unlocks your door and sneaks into your bedroom while you sleep. You’re in such a deep slumber that you barely stir while he strokes your cheek, moves your hair out of your face, and presses his nose against your skin to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume. Oh, his love! His wife! He leaves you with a brisk kiss and disappears back into the sewers. He has such big plans for you! Wonderful plans!

You start to notice a man’s shadow following you, but it always disappears before anyone else can see him. You start to hear a man’s voice speaking through the walls. From what he says, he sounds lovesick and it creeps you out. You try to warn others but no one else believes you except Vercheres. You develop insomnia and deep feelings of paranoia because of your fear and anxiety. When an opportune moment presents itself, Erique kidnaps you and takes you to his underground lair in the sewers, drugging you to ensure your cooperation. While you’re asleep, he puts a wedding ring on your finger and a matching one on his own. His young bride is a vision! So very beautiful, so very lovely!

“You’ll stay here with me, my wife, won’t you? It’s been so lonely without you but you’ve returned to me at last, haven’t you? We’ll be together forever. Now you’ll sing for me, and I’ll play. It’s beautiful down there. Beautiful. Come now, my darling one.”

“There's a piano in the Opera foyer. Let's go there. You play, and I'll sing for you.”

“But you don't understand. We can't go back there ever. It was I who made the chandelier fall. I for you, my love. But I warned them. I told them there'd be death and destruction if they didn't let you sing. Come. See? Didn't I tell you it was beautiful? You didn't know we had a lake all to ourselves, did you? They've poisoned your mind against me. That's why you're afraid. Look at our lake, dearest. You'll love it here when you get used to the dark. And you'll love the dark, too. It's friendly and peaceful. It brings rest and relief from pain. It's right under the Opera. The music comes down in the darkness, distills it, cleanses it of the suffering that made it. And it's all beauty. And life here is like a resurrection.”

He forces you to play along with his deluded fantasies, often believing you’re his lost love and calling you by her name. You’ve tried to tell him you weren’t her, and sometimes it works. In his moments of lucidity, he calls you by your real name. Those hours or days are much more bearable for you. Other times, however, his behavior is unpredictable and trying to break him out of his fantasies has yielded disastrous results that have frightened you terribly. You’ve had to tread very carefully not to set him off because his personality can flip at any moment. Claudin as the Phantom talks in an extremely gentle, husbandly manner to you and almost never raises his voice to anyone, which makes him even more chilling with the murders he commits.

“Is that any way to talk to the father of your children?”

“Children? What do you mean children? We have only one child.”

“No, my darling. We have many children.”

“My god, what have you done? Tell me, what have you done?!”

“Would you like to see our daughter? Would you like to see our Christine? Would you?”

“Yes!”

“My darling daughter, your mother has returned to us. Come, give her a kiss.” He’s kidnapped at least three children; a boy, a girl, and an infant. The girl resembles Christine when she was a child. Same colored hair hanging in ringlets, same eye color, same porcelain pale skin and red cheeks. He’s trying to recreate the family he wanted but could never have before Christine’s mother either left him or died. Oh, God.

3. Unbeknownst to either of you, you’re Christine DuBois’ twin sister and are both daughters of Erique Claudin. You were separated at birth after your father put you both up for adoption. Your mother was dead or otherwise gone, and Erique was clueless when it came to raising two girls. While Christine is an aspiring singer and sings in the chorus, you’re an aspiring ballerina and dance in the ensemble. Despite your respective talents, neither of you are given much opportunity to shine. You’re both kept to the background and overshadowed by the prima donna and prima ballerina. You both encounter Erique a few times in the foyer or on the stage or outside the Opera. He showed concern for Christine when he noticed she wasn’t on stage during the Act Three curtain call and asked if she was sick. Similarly, he does the same with you when he notices you’re missing from the stage. Why weren’t you there? Forgive him, but he’s been here so long that you - everybody and everything connected with the Opera is so much a part of his life. You weren’t ill, were you? You’re not in any trouble? Oh, it’s impertinent of him, he knows, but uh…

When Erique suffers an injury to his left hand that prevents him from the use of his fingers and negatively impacts his performance, he’s dismissed from the Paris Opera Orchestra. He no longer has the means to anonymously support either of you. Claudin has secretly spent all his fortune on yours and Christine's education, and he has no money left to go towards his forced retirement. He has to withdraw his financial support from both of you only for a little while, just until he can secure another position. But Signor Ferretti refuses to tutor Christine any further without proper compensation and your ballet instructor is the same. Why should either of them assume Claudin’s burden after he spent all his money on the two of you? The girls mean nothing to them.

But your careers mean more to Claudin than anything else. Neither you nor Christine can afford the lessons on your own. A month’s salary wouldn’t be enough to pay for one of your lessons. Desperate to provide for his darling daughters, he hopes to have his piano concerto published and receive a substantial advance for it. But a misunderstanding leads to Erique committing his first murder and getting his face burned by acid. This sets off a series of unfortunate events that turns him into the Opera Ghost. A man would do practically anything for the love of his daughters, even murder anyone who would get in the way of their careers.

He later tampers with Biancarolli's drink to make her fall asleep and unable to sing. Christine, her understudy, has to take her place on stage. Erique also sabotages the current prima ballerina by putting glass in her ballet shoes or otherwise breaking her feet/legs by creating a terrible accident on stage so that she cannot dance and you have to take her place. He’ll help both of you reach your full potential and you’ll become a great and famous ballerina, as Christine will become a great and famous singer. Biancarolli, who suspects that Garron and Christine are responsible for drugging her, orders Raoul to arrest them. The prima ballerina suspects you of causing her injury and orders your arrest as well. But Raoul says he cannot because there’s no evidence. Biancarolli and the prima ballerina both say they’ll forget the affair only if both you and Christine are replaced as understudies and your performances are not mentioned in the papers.

Both Biancarolli and the prima ballerina are later murdered, along with their maids. They’ve been strangled to death by the Phantom to make room for the unsuspecting Christine and you to take their places. He later kidnaps both of you and takes you down to his lair in the sewer tunnels, revealing that he’s your long-lost father and you’re sisters. Words cannot express how sorry he is for disappearing from your lives and not being able to watch you grow up. If he could’ve raised his daughters himself, he would’ve kept you both in a heartbeat. But he didn’t have the means to raise two girls alone, and needed to give both you and Christine your best chance. So with a heavy heart, he gave you both up to be adopted by other families when you were only a few months old. Now reunited, he wants all three of you to be together forever. A happy family, as you should be.

“You’ll stay here with me, my children, won’t you? It’s been so lonely without my girls but you’ve both come to me at last, haven’t you? Now, Christine, you’ll sing for me. Y/n, you’ll dance for me. I’ll play. We’ll be together forever. It’s beautiful down there. Beautiful. Come now, my little ones. There, you’re not frightened now, are you? You know I’ll not harm either of you, don’t you? How could I harm you? I’ve always helped you. Haven’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, you’ve always helped us.”

“Of course I have. Biancarolli knows. The former prima ballerina knows. She wouldn’t let you sing. She wouldn’t let you dance. They didn’t know how much I love you. Now they know. But it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters except us. Now you’ll sing and dance all you want, but only for me. You will, won’t you, my darling daughters?”

“Of course…Father.”

4. You were born into a wealthy and well-connected family. Your father took the family on a tour in Europe where you were introduced to an English-born Parisian hostess, with whom you bonded. She was a stimulating hostess who didn’t care for her appearance, and while her ideas didn’t always agree with those of her guests, she was incapable of boring anyone. Her behavior was exasperating and eccentric and she had little respect for upper-class women, whom she regarded generally as inconsequential. She generally rejected female company and spent her time with male intellectuals. She made an exception, however, in the case of your family and you in particular. She demonstrated that women could be equal to men, an idea that you hadn’t learnt from your mother.

You were respectful of your family's opposition to you working as a nurse, only announcing your decision to enter the field. Despite the anger and distress of your mother and sister, you rejected the expected role for a woman of your status to become a wife and mother. You worked hard to educate yourself in the art and science of nursing, in the face of opposition from your family and the restrictive social code for affluent young women. After being confronted by two potential suitors who demanded you choose between them, you chose neither and pursued your nursing career unhindered by marriage prospects. You’re now working at the Opera House, as a literal theatre nurse. You take care of the performers and other staff in cases of fainting spells, accidents, sickness, or injury. Unlike your predecessor, you’re young, beautiful, and sweet-natured.

You met Erique Claudin and knew him only as a violinist in the orchestra. You encountered him a few times in the foyer or on the stage or outside the opera, but that’s all. He seemed eccentric but harmless. But over time, you found yourself wanting to take care of him. You’d notice how he’d keep odd hours and would hardly eat anything. Why doesn’t he get himself something to eat before the opera instead of keeping himself up all hours? You notice he has the same soup night after night, week after week. The Opera House staff gossip, falsely believing that his overdue debts is caused by him being a miser, and they complain about it.

“What that man does with his money is none of our business. If he wants to hoard it and starve to death, that’s his affair. But we hear he hasn’t paid his landlord for six weeks, and that’s as long as they’re going to wait before they toss him out onto the street.”

“What if he hasn’t any money? Maybe if they’ll be patient only just a little longer…”

“He hasn’t any money? After working for the Paris Opera all these years? What nonsense! What does he expect to do with his money? Bury it with him? If he does, they’ll dig him up and steal it. If he thinks he’s going to add a few francs to his fortune at the expense of others, he’s very much mistaken.”

An artistic genius he may be, but he wasn’t well-learned in the arts of the kitchen. He didn't do much more than toast cheese over bread and add a slice of already cooked meat to it since he couldn’t afford much else. So you cook him better, more savory meals using whatever’s leftover in the restaurant and still fresh enough. There was a roast chicken in the pantry and a previously made broth you found on the stove, so you made do with what you had. You made him another soup, but one that was full of cooked meat and vegetables. Sitting beside it on a plate was a chicken sandwich. You were unsure if he even drank tea, but still made him a cup with sugar cubes and cream on the side in case he wanted to add either.

Erik devoured the whole thing in seconds. Quickly setting the bowl of soup aside, he picked up the sandwich and savored the taste of the chicken, bread and mustard as it all came together inside his mouth. When that was finished, he happily over-sugared his tea and drank it down, feeling contently full for the first time in years. You worried he’d get a stomach ache and make himself sick from eating so fast, but you’re glad he enjoyed it. It seems he doesn’t eat a great deal, and that worries you. He should be eating and sleeping well since he works so hard. He’s very grateful to you.

“You’ve been very kind, you’ve been very patient. You’ll be rewarded for it, I promise you! Now please leave me alone.”

After Erique suffers an injury to the fingers of his left hand, he can only play simple melodies perfectly. He goes to you for help and you examine him. While you may or may not be able to determine the cause, you offer to provide physical therapy sessions, free of charge. You know he can’t afford medicine, but maybe this’ll help him a great deal. Perhaps his injury is only temporary, perhaps it’ll get better, but the aim of the Paris Opera is perfection. It’s with a heavy heart that the managers have Erique dismissed from the Orchestra. He’s been with the Opera a long time - twenty years. You wish you could do more to help him. You’re happy to care for him and he’s happy to play music for you in return, to show you his progress following your physical therapy sessions. He never sought more than a casual acquaintance with you but you become friends and, despite your significant age gap, you fall in love.

But then he commits murder and acid is thrown in his face, driving him to go into hiding in the labyrinthine sewers of the Opera House and begin his reign of terror as the Phantom. In his desperation to protect you and repay you for your kindness and time spent devoted to helping him convalesce, Erique would do anything for you, even murder. He’s so desperate for love and friendship that he may even kidnap you. Fortune had smiled upon him the night that you came to the Opera House, and he had savored every moment he had shared with you. You were his loyal caregiver and companion, when so many others had cast him aside. You had cooked for him, talked to him, and even laughed with him whenever he managed to gather the courage to tease you about something. You even allowed him to snuggle close to you as you read - never before had he enjoyed reading so much as he did with you. How could he possibly let someone come and take that away from him now? His darling daughter, Christine, will never care for him in his old age, but maybe you can. In your years working as a nurse, you’ve probably seen lots of gruesome and grisly injuries such as gunshot wounds, infections, amputations, etc., so he hopes you wouldn’t faint or reject him upon seeing his disfigured face. Even if nothing can be done for the acid burns he’s suffered, he still dreams of spending the rest of his life with you by his side.

5. You succesfully bring to the present time Erique Claudin, a violinist from the 19th century, with a homemade time machine. In the split seconds between when Raoul fired his gun and the underground sewers were collapsing, you saved Erique’s life by sending him here before he could be crushed to death from the falling rocks. The underground tunnels are caved in, and nobody would ever try to move all that rubble to recover Erique’s body. He was presumed dead and Christine was rescued. In his time, only his mask and violin were left behind. You try your best to hide and protect him from exposure while he’s given a second chance at life. He may choose a different name or alias to go by. Modern medicine, technology, and makeup may help him either fix his face or acquire a mask that almost seamlessly blends into his skin more, covering his acid scars and giving off the illusion of a perfect face. His unique talent, behavior, and personality puts him in the spotlight, making it only a matter of time until he’s discovered and what you’ve done comes to light. Annoyed by the current primo uomo of the modern day Paris Opera House, a group of stagehands plot to scare him away and give his position to the young understudy with a shared identity - the Phantom of the Opera. Oh no.

[alpha-ratsnest]

poem by Brigit Pegeen Kelly from her book The Orchard, text under the cut. i love this poem. the plants it references are tallgrass prairie plants. the goldenrods are blooming (it's the beginning of august) and i know summer is mostly over. i think about this poem a lot at this time of year.

Blessed is the Field

In the late heat the snakeroot and goldenrod run high, White and gold, the steaming flowers, green and gold, The acid-bitten leaves....It is good to say first

An invocation. Though the words do not always Seem to work. Still, one must try. Bow your head. Cross your arms. Say: Blessed is the day. And the one

Who destroys the day. Blessed is this ring of fire In which we live....How bitter the burning leaves. How bitter and sweet. How bitter and sweet the sound

Of the single gold and black insect repeating Its two lonely notes. The insect's song both magnifies The field and casts a shadow over it, the way

A doorbell ringing through an abandoned house Makes the falling rooms, papered with lilies and roses And two-headed goats, seem larger and more ghostly.

The high grasses spill their seed. It is hard to know The right way in or out. But here, you can have Which flower you like, though there are not many left,

Lady's thumb in the gravel by the wood's fringe And on the shale spit beneath the black walnut that houses The crow, the peculiar cat's-paw, sweet everlasting,

Unbearably soft. Do not mind the crow's bark. He is fierce and solitary, but he will let us pass, Patron of the lost and broken-spirited. Behind him

In the quarter ring of sumacs, flagged like circus tents, The deer I follow, and that even now are watching us, Sleep at night their restless sleep. I find their droppings

In the morning. And here at my feet is the self-heal, Humblest of flowers, bloomless but still intact. I ate Some whole once and did not get well but it may strike

Your fancy. The smell of burning rubber is from A rabbit carcass the dog dragged into the ravine. And the smell of lemon is the snakeroot I am crushing

Between my thumb and forefinger....There could be Beneath this field an underground river full Of sweet liquid. A dowser might find it with his witching

Wand and his prayers. Some prayers can move Even the stubborn dirt....Do you hear? The bird I have never seen is back. Each day at this time

He takes up his ominous clucking, fretting like a baby, Lonely sweetling. It is hard to know the right way In or out. But look, the goldenrod is the color

Of beaten skin. Say: Blessed are those who stand still In their confusion. Blessed is the field as it burns.