#I MEANT AUTONOMY WAIT WAIT

[robotpussy]

I think, because of Hannibal and (maybe) bones and all, people have forgotten that cannibalism has been used as a metaphor for (and physically is) the manifestation of antiblackness and colonialism and a act of complete loss of autonomy. I don't think anybody on here has watched anything about cannibals that came out before 2015 or simply isn't attached to silence of the lambs/manhunter. cannibalism is very much racialised, even the term cannibal derives from the Spanish term used to refer to a group of people in the carribbean... it is just as much racist as it can be seen as a metaphor for forbidden desire - but the obsession with it from this majority white user base is definitely um. questionable

[wildflowercryptid]

thinking about kieran again... particularly about how i feel like he struggles with a weak sense of self and how him identifying so heavily with ogrepon, (or at least the version of ogrepon he originally knew,) probably helped him stabilize how he saw himself, only to have something he considered so core to his identity essentially ripped away from him. not only that, it was by someone he seemingly wanted to trust and open up to, (which i doubt he does very often.)

i definitely think that the way he's handling things is far from healthy, but i can get why he'd have such an intense reaction to losing something that was so important to him and basically being betrayed by someone he wanted to consider a friend.

[scorndotexe]

i'm so angry at everyone and myself

[a-b-riddle]

check tags for warnings

In the mood to write angst. Imagine you’re the conscientious observer who accidentally sees how your team talks about you behind your back.

Your morals were… complicated. You didn’t believe in killing anyone. Your faith told you that killing someone is wrong and even if it’s to save your life, handling a gun is something that doesn’t sit well with you. You’ve been to gun ranges. Mandatory for your position in the military that you have basic fire arm knowledge. But having something in your hands that could so easily take a life made you uneasy.

You were pescatarian, but tried to limit meat. Cried anytime you saw chickens in those trucks heading toward their demise. You fed stray cats around your house back home. You tried to be kind and cherished life in all most of its forms. The exception being garlic butter shrimp that was too good to give up and anytime of bug resembling a cock roach. And yes, palmetto bugs were still cock roaches.

And wasps.

Fuck wasps.

At the same time, you were pro-choice. Initially, you were pro-choice for other women, but you didn’t think you would have the strength to get an abortion. It wasn’t until you were holding your friend’s hand as she got her D&C that your views on your own body autonomy changed. It didn’t have to be medical to be necessary.

But you still refused to hold a weapon. Which is why even though you were a very talented medic, you were always judged for not carrying any sort of defense while in the field.

But no one on base would dare say anything to you about it. At least not to your face…

You got stuck instructing a training seminar when your phone continued to buzz in your back pocket. But even with the consistent messages, you didn’t falter by showing the newest members how to give basic first aid until health could arrive.

Nearly two hours later, you finally fish your phone out to see what’s going on.

Dozens of text messages in a group chat between you, Captain Price, Johnny, Kyle and Simon. You had gotten close to them over the last few months. You were halfway through your contract and were already dreading leaving knowing they were staying behind until the job is done.

You open it, your phone taking you to the first unread message.

Cpt.: Hows the arm healing up?

Soap: Fine. Hen did a good job of keeping the sutures nice and even. Should barely scar.

Gaz: Wouldn’t have a scar if she just fucking carried.

Soap: You think she honestly would even know what to do with a gun if you gave her one Garrick 😂

Ghost: Still think she’s a liability. Someone who won’t raise arms against an enemy isn’t meant to be on the team.

Cpt: Already tried. Laswell says we need the numbers. As long as she does her job there’s nothing I can do. We can’t be down a medic and it’s either her or nothing.

You shook as you continued reading the conversation.

Liability. Coward. It went on and on about how weak you were. Why couldn’t you just carry a small pistol instead of expecting everyone else to keep you safe.

It then switched to your personality. No one should be that happy. Annoying. A yapper. Couldn’t get a word in most of the time.

On and on they went until you realized they spoke so freely because they didn’t realize you were in this group chat. What did they say when you weren’t around?

You felt like a fool having extending more than just trying to be a civil coworker, but a friend. Taking on tasks that weren’t your responsibility simply to help them.

Getting a floral arrangement delivered for Johnny’s sister after she had given birth. Talking on the phone to the nursing home where Price’s mother resided trying to sort out her insurance. Taking priority Kyle when he was injured after falling out of a plane (both times) over your other patients. And always having the electric kettled going in the morning so Simon could have his tea without waiting too long.

You were helpful. Just because you had one boundary didn’t mean their words held any merit. But still you couldn’t help the deep feeling of just… betrayal? Rejection? You weren’t sure there was a word fitting enough to sum up how utterly stupid you felt.

Maybe they were right. This wasn’t a civilian setting. This wasn’t just life and death for your patients, but for you. You were out in the field with no form of protection except from others.

You weren’t abandoning your morals. You couldn’t. Not when every fiber of your being told you to remain steadfast. There was only one solution.

You didn’t have much to pack. Uniform was issued to you. Your stethoscope and some other tools came out of your own pocket. Your laptop, phone, charges. You packed all your lounging clothes and miraculously everything fit into a military duffle. Which wasn’t actually anything impressive given how big those things are.

You were confident in your decision even if it made you feel like a failure.

As you stood outside the office door you returned back to the group chat. One by one you proceeded to block all of them. You knew when you left the group they would know that the notification would pop up and they either wouldn’t give a shit that you finally knew what the actually thought of you or they tried messaging you to make amends to cover their asses. You weren’t sure which was worse.

Once you had blocked the last one, you left and knocked on the door that you had been idling in front of. A faint ‘come in’ was granted before you walked through.

“Hey, Kate.” You greeted. “Can we talk?”

[luvyeni]

❛CONTROLLINGBF! SUNGCHAN❜ ( headcannons )

warnings? 18+

request: imagine you in a relationship with sungchan, his controlling nature dictates every aspect of your life, from your appearance to your social interactions. despite his intentions to protect and care for you, his constant need for control suffocates your sense of independence, leaving you yearning for freedom and autonomy.

authors note. i hope this is what you meant , i hope you like it🤍

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who isolates you from everyone, never letting you leave home alone or without his premission.

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who basically does everything for you — waking up before you, picking out clothes for you to wear — clothes that he picked out and bought. "i don't really like this." "what do you know baby , you'd wear shorts that look like panties and a shirt that shows off what's mine if i let you — just be a good girl and put this on."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who doesn't makes you tell him everything when you go out , where you're going; how long— and who's gonna be there. "it's only for a few hours." "with them? no baby im sorry remember last time you went out with them, she had you out all night drinking, not this time, tell her you won't be coming."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who has a iron clad grip on your arm when you're out for you so you don't go so far with out. "but— i won't wait for you if you get lost, so no let's go."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who doesn't see why you're so sad all the time, he's gives you a nice life , he takes care of you, buys you things, he doesn't understand what's so important about going outside. "i just want so space and to do things alone for once chan , just once, it's so suffocating being with you sometimes."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who gaslights you when you start talking about going out without him. "it's only a few hours chan and you like this friend." "baby what if you get hurt , you know you can never pay attention that's why i come with you, how about we stay in tonight, please , maybe next week okay?" and just like always you say —"okay."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who uses sex as form of distraction to keep you from even thinking about going outside, holding you close like you're going run away, thrusting deep into your cervix whispering into your ear. "you're mine, from your head down, this pretty pussy including, it's mine , and i'll kill anyone who says other wise." and you believe him, he hasn't killed anybody, but you wouldn't put it past him.

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who wants to consume your every being , he'll do what ever he needs to do to achieve that.

©️LUVYENI

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐬

cw: fingering in a library

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧

it’s pathetic to say but books seem to be the only friend you’ve been capable of making at high school. it doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, who would want to befriend lying, back-stabbing, drama-causing bitches? you simply didn’t have time to deal with that anyway. the only thing in mind is your dream school, waiting for you arms outstretched and all. you find yourself in the library yet again, past school hours, deciding to hole yourself up in the silent room until closing hours, then studying more in the comfort of your own room. exciting friday evening!

frustrated, you puff as you get stumped by another question. today simply isn’t your day and you can’t understand why not. everything seems to be going the same. unless-

your thoughts are interrupted by a familiar figure strolling over to you, sporting the usual bedhead and that infuriatingly lazy smirk. of course.

kuroo tetsurou drags the chair out from beside you and sits on it backwards, as if that was somehow charming. what, is this supposed to be sexy? "hey, princess," he drawls, looking at you through his raven-black hair, his voice slow and syrupy. you respond with nothing more than a glare and a pointed nod toward the 'silence in the library' sign above your head. "no one follows that stupid rule," he says, deadpan. you roll your eyes and pointedly shift in your seat, turning your back to him. "aw, don’t be like that," he purrs, his tone almost teasing but as lazy as ever. there's something catlike about the way kuroo moves and talks like he’s never in a rush. every word seems deliberate, almost annoyingly slow. "i just wanna have a little fun," he whispers, leaning in, his face far too close for comfort.

you can practically feel the smugness radiating off him. and of course, he’d choose now to be a distraction. an unfamiliar hand circles the flesh around your knee, the owner of that hand grins at you, chin resting in his hand. you slap it away, not tolerating any of his nonsense. “fine.” he says in surrender, arms lifting off. “i won’t get up to anything. you would sigh in relief but you know better than that. “but can i just…” the same sneaky hand back on your exposed leg, thumb gently rubbing circles on the soft skin. “keep it here. to keep you company. and mostly because i can.” this makes you loosen up.

right. your autonomy has been stripped from you.

you turn to face your books properly, deciding to delve into your material again, maybe this time you’d focus better. “good girl, see that wasn’t so hard.”

silence envelops the both of you as it’s meant to be, and it’s fine. he really isn’t bothering you, the problem is your sensitivity. you’ve realised that your fogged-up mind was due to your lack of release. a kuroo being here, his hand shifting higher and higher, every occasional grope being tighter than the last has you subconsciously squeezing your legs together. you’re hoping he won’t notice, especially as you keep switching legs to cross and avoiding squeezing your thighs together but soon it's evident on your face and how you’ve not picked up your pen after 5 whole minutes. you’re sitting staring holes into your maths book, hoping you don’t make as much of a twitch to give him the wrong signal. a signal on which he picks up.

“don’t stop because of me, really. i’m just here to watch you work is all.” you can’t even snap back at him as you’re focusing on no sounds slipping past your lips. “but,” he says carefully, leaning close. if you need to ever ‘let lose’ you know who to come to. i mean I'm not a study expert like you, but i do know… that if you’re not in the right headspace, then it’s hard to remember what you’ve learnt. i may know a few ways to help unwind. say the word and i’m yours.”

“ohh.” it’s quiet when you succumb to him, allowing this. but you can’t help it, you feel pent up and your mind isn’t thinking clearly.

“i’ll take that.”

you’re gonna hate yourself for this.

“make it quick.” you snap, readjusting your sitting angle to allow room for his hand.

“oh honey, i don’t rush my work.” he informs you, eyes locking with yours as he looks up.

great.

“what if we-”

“get caught?” he finishes, tearing his gaze away from your legs and to you. “don’t worry, i know that one of your big concerns, that won’t happen. unless you can’t keep your mouth shut.” with a slow hand, he lifts the fabric of your skirt, cold air rushing further up your legs. “you really are a soaker. look at that.” he exclaims, the only time his eyes seem to widen as he soaks in the sight of your drenched cunt, wetting your panties.

usually, you would feel a flush of embarrassment but the need the need to come is stronger. cautiously, kuroo slips his fingers down the undergarment, the gentle pads of his fingers reaching your clit. you sigh softly as with gentle rubs he soothes your stress. you place your hands around his arm, which seems to be working its magic as you’re finding it difficult to sit still in your chair. you see him wanting to tease you about your inability to stop squirming, which he bites back upon seeing your targeted stern look. you’re actively pushing down moans in the silent library, the only sound is chairs shuffling, pages rustling and pens rolling. not the sound of a girl having her pussy played with when anyone could come in and spot the two students in the act, getting them expelled.

but it’s all too thrilling. maybe for kuroo more than you. he doesn't notify you when his fingers slip from your sensitive bud and down into your throbbing cunt. you instinctively squeeze your thighs together, the sensations getting stronger and making it harder for you to control yourself. it’s almost as if kuroo is chasing the high himself, the way his fingers pump and curl so rhythmically, fingertips brushing against your g-spot every so often. “shh baby, we don’t wanna get caught now do we?” purrs in your ear, clearly enjoy how flustered he’s making you and how powerful you make him feel. you close your eyes and drop your head back, rather than focusing on not riding his fingers subtly. “don’t need to hold back on my account, you can ride em if you wanna.” kuroo’s laser-sharp focus and attentivity to subtle details like that almost freak you out. as if he’s almost watching. “come on princess ik you want it.” he says with a smile, that you can feel on your cheek. pressed against it and feeling defeated as his smug grin boasts itself in your face. you almost have half a mind to push him off and leave, but in that way, you don’t get satisfied, you don’t release, you don’t win. “there’s a good girl.” he hums as you give into your corporeal desires, and start rolling your hips towards him. you hate you admit it, but he is damn good. he knows how to work those fingers.

your hair falls in front of your face again as you lean it forward, feeling the pressure build-up within you faster than usual, your sweet release seems to be approaching much more hurriedly. £fuck I'm close I'm gonna come.” you pant out breathlessly, still aware to keep your voice down.

“i know, i know, i can tell. i’ll make you come real soon.” his lips attach to your jaw as he kisses along it. £fuck you’re tight.” he states, removing his lips from you and focusing on speeding up and working his fingers faster, thrusting harder. now the chair is squeaking against the floor and your heart is racing, from fear, excitement and pure bliss of all the sensations blurred into one. kuroo places a large hand over your mouth, covering it firmly as he feels your high approaching. it takes a few more seconds before you’re squealing muffled squeals into his palm, closing your eyes and pointing your toes. “ cumming all over my finger like that, didn’t take you for a messy girl.” his fingers are drenched in your arousal and neediness. dripping in pure out as he peels his hand away slowly. drinking in the sight of your puffed-out state, trying desperately to silently catch your breath in the library. your composure is lost as you place your hand on the edge of your chair to keep yourself upright, hair slightly sticking to your face and legs still in the air as you come down. “messy girl,” he coos. “this is no way to leave the school, don’t want your cum ruining the carpet now do we, open wide.” you follow his instructions without a second thought, your mouth opening wide on command as his fingers invade it. you suck without being told to, your tongue swirling around his digits as you look up at him with your larger doe eyes.

“there’s a good girl. hey fun idea, wanna take this to the table? i can think fo a couple ways to make you cum faster.” you deadpan at his suggestion. your face does not even crinkle in the slightest to show the least bit of amusement.

“was that supposed to be funny? that’s no funny. please leave now, you’re disrupting our silence.”

“the only thing disturbing the silence was your loud ass pussy, but whatever you say princess.” he shrugs,

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(please send a dm or comment on my the pinned blog to join.)

taglist: @slutkoo

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

[anxious-lee]

The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known || Hazbin Tickle Fic ||

A/N: this entire fic was inspired by that one scene where Al threatens Husk in ep 5. it broke my heart to see him so utterly petrified so I wrote this as a hurt/comfort for myself

Warnings: mentions of Alastor's control over Husk, slight NSFW language but it's not actually sexual I just didn't have any synonyms for what I meant lol

Word count: 2,466

-----

When you're an Overlord of Hell, you tend to get pretty comfortable with staying in control.

Because one wrong move can mean the end of the line.

Husk knew that better than most.

And even now, after all that power of his was lost, he still found himself more suited to calling the shots in whatever situation he found himself in. It was just easier that way. If he could remain on top of things, then nothing would go wrong. Mostly.

That feeling of security never lasted long, though, because sooner or later, he was reminded of the terrible choice he made long ago. That he gave away his autonomy to the most psychotic demon in hell.

The way he spoke to him. Like he was so small. And insignificant. Like he existed purely for the bastard's own amusement and nothing else. Any input given was condescended to, patronized, and dehumanized. It formed an ugly little pit in Husk's chest. How little control he had once Alastor stepped into the room. It scared him, in a way that so few things did.

At least he had someone else to talk to who knew how he felt.

Speaking of whom, Angel Dust strutted into the bedroom, sporting a fluffy silk robe.

"Hope I didn't make you wait too long~" he whined seductively.

"Not long at all," the other purred.

The two settled down together in bed, soaking in each other's embrace.

Tonight was all about them, huddled together in hell's moonlight.

Husk remained still as Angel shifted downward until his head fit under Husk's chin, knowing just where to go.

He loved to be pampered, that much was obvious.

It was peaceful for some time before Angel's eyes suddenly blinked open.

"Hey. How come you never want a turn at being the little spoon? I'm not unreasonable, I'm sure we could share," he said coyly.

Husk didn't quite know what to say to that. It wasn't something that needed to be spoken in words. Husk dominated, Angel submitted (in more ways than one). It seemed almost absurd to suggest that Husk would be the one being given affection.

"Nah, I'm good. You look pretty comfy down there, anyway."

Angel, however, wasn't satisfied with that answer. He pulled himself back to get a good look at the cat's face, cocking his own head curiously. Who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end? Even once? It couldn't be understated how warm and protected one could feel in the arms of another. And Husk didn't want that? Did he feel pressured to say that because he knew Angel liked to take that spot?

"Really? You THAT much of a top that you can't play second fiddle once?" said Angel.

"I'm just not a big... "softy-cuddles" kinda guy, as if you already couldn't tell," Husk admitted, gesturing to his overall gruff demeanor.

Angel studied his face.

"Not buying that for a second," he said, punctuating each word with a poke to the chest. "Come on, you're missing out!"

"That's sweet, babe, but I'm-"

"Just five minutes?" Angel pleaded, holding five fingers up in front of him, "Five minutes of me cuddling you for a change. If you decide you hate it, I won't bring it up again. I just... you're always taking care o' me. I want to give some of that back to you, ya'know? You deserve it."

Fuck.

How was he supposed to say no to those puppy eyes?

Besides, it couldn't hurt... right?

"Fine," Husk relented.

"Yay!" His boyfriend cheered.

They rearranged their positions; Husk now farther down the length of the bed and Angel wrapping all three pairs of arms around him like a furry burrito. His knees and head also tucked themselves inward to cradle the cat properly.

It still made Husk a little tense, letting someone handle him so willfully, but the touch was too nice to deny for very long. Thoughts of safety oozed into his brain as his body relaxed against the chest behind him.

"See? Now isn't this nice?" said Angel softly, barely above a whisper, "For a man who supposedly doesn't little-spoon, you've got the moves down pat."

"I'm not making any moves," Husk mumbled, smiling loudly in his voice.

"Well, you're relaxed, aren't ya?"

In a way.

Angel peered down at the bundle of fuzz, taking in how much shorter he was in comparison.

"Awww! I never noticed how cute you were from up here." His hand began petting the top of the kitty's head, smoothing down the hair.

And there was that feeling again. The one that couldn't let Husk enjoy a good thing while he had it. The fear of releasing control.

"I'm not a pet," he grumbled, having no control over the defensiveness in his voice.

Angel, ever oblivious, pressed on. "Oh, but you are to me~. My sweet little Husky~."

Finally, the camel's back broke under that straw.

"Just stop, okay?! I don't-" Husk took a much-needed breath, sitting up, "I know being treated like a toy is your thing, but it's not mine. I don't like being talked to like I'm a pet. Like all I am is your little dancing monkey." It dawned on him just how much of all that was directed at Alastor. The words sunk in like cement in a lake, and he turned his eyes away, unable to look at what he just ruined.

Angel blinked. All of sudden, the moment had soured, and he had no clue why. Was it something he said? Husk said he didn't want to be treated like a toy. Is that how he felt? Like he wasn't valued? That wasn't what he was trying to say at all! It was adoration! Not condescension.

"What...?" Angel breathed.

"Forget it. Just, I'm sorry-"

"No! No, don't apologize," Angel interrupted, choosing his next words carefully, "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. It wasn't what I meant to say. I wasn't tryin' to say you were weak or small. I was... I was trying to tells you that I adore ya. You do so much for me and our friends. You look out for us, and protect us, and listen to our bullshit problems all the time.

"I think so highly of you, Husk. You don't take shit from no one, not even me. You're unafraid to speak your mind. You know how to keep your head when life gets messy. I got nothing but respect for you. That's why I wanted to do all this. That's why I want to pamper you with love and shit. Because you're always so strong, and I wanted to... I don't know... give you the space where you didn't have to be strong. Not with me."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Husk couldn't find the words even if he tried. He had never heard such meaningful things spoken about him. Him, the grouchy barfly. How could he possibly come back from such a beautiful declaration? Especially now with how foolish he felt. It had never occurred to him that accepting affection was an act of good, and not an admission of weakness. That someone could be trusted to hold him in their hands and lift him up rather than drag him down.

Angel could never be Alastor. This was not a hostage situation.

This was a security.

One that he felt that he needed in this moment more than ever.

"Fuck... I'm sorry. I messed up everything and spoiled the mood. I'm still not very good at this whole intimacy stuff," Husk sighed.

"I know, and it's okay. I can teach you," Angel cupped his hand around Husk's cheek.

Husk leaned into the touch. "And uh... thanks. For what you said."

"I meant it."

What did Husk do on Earth to deserve such an Angel?

"Look, if uh. Ahem. If you still wanted to... to do what you were doing before... you know, I won't fight you," Husk stammered, falling quieter with each word.

If that's the only means of permission that Angel can get right now, then he'll take it. He gently eased Husk onto his back once more.

"Good. 'Cause I still have lots more love to give you, sweetcheeks." Angel's iconic smile returned.

Even though Husk basically just admitted he wanted Angel to keep going, his praises were beginning to fluster him. The corners of his lips started to rise, and the only defense he had against them was to turn his face away from the man in front of him.

"You like it when I talk to you like that, huh, baby? Do you hear in my voice how much I'm crazy about you? How I'd do anything for ya? Cause I would~. There's nothing that you don't deserve," Angel said, scratching oh so lightly beneath Husk's chin.

Husk squeezed his eyes shut as he surrendered to his smile and tried to crush Angel's hand with his neck.

"It's true~. Because you're just the cutest little thing alive! Er, unalive, so to speak," the spider said, feeling encouraged by this reaction, and bringing another hand to scritch in the middle of his side.

Before he could stop it, a giggle escaped from Husk's mouth. Mortified, he then clamped his jaw shut, holding any more upcoming laughs in.

"You don't have to pretend for me, baby. It's just us here," said Angel, now bringing all three sets of arms into the mix. One pair was tracing his sides, another scritching either sides of his neck, and the last drumming their fingers torturously over his belly.

The giggles rose back up again, and this time shutting his mouth wasn't keeping them at bay. If he weren't so stubborn, he might've given in by now. But it was just too embarrassing.

Husk clapped his paws over his mouth, and while it did (partially) succeed in quieting his laughter, it didn't do anything to remedy the tickly sensations now all over his torso. He twitched and quivered under the touch, but with Angel hovering over him, it didn't leave much room for reprieve.

"This looks like it really tickles. I'm sure you'd feel better if you let all those laugh out!" Angel encouraged, "Pleeeeeease? For me? For yourself?"

Still, he didn't budge.

"Okay. I didn't wanna have to do this, but you've left me with no otha' options." Angel took one hand that was scratching his chin and took both of Husk's paws in it, holding them above the cat's head.

The effect was gradual.

At first, you couldn't hear a peep. Then, over a matter of seconds, Husk's giggles began to bubble up once more, fighting their way to the surface, and tickling him from the inside out.

It was over. Before long, there was nothing between the loving attacker and the melodic sound he adored so much. It started out deeper and huskier, much like his normal speaking voice, but with each passing moment, it grew higher in pitch; the kind of laugh he reserved only for his softer moments with Angel.

The spider took this as a sign to continue and deepened the pressure of all of his appendages, digging into the jittery muscles.

Husk couldn't even recognize himself anymore. He sounded nothing like the bitter old drunk he normally was. In its place, was a goofy little lovesick fool who laughed like no one in the world could hear him. He guffawed and chortled and cackled with reckless abandon.

"There it itihis! There's that gorgeous laughter!" Said Angel. "For a moment there, I thought you was bout to explode!"

The compliment somehow made everything worse. The helplessness of the situation was still there, the feeling of being small, but it was... different. Like he was small enough to be held in someone's palm and protected from all harm. It felt safe.

Husk's cheeks began to burn red.

Hopefully, Angel would be too distracted to notice.

"Aw baaabe! Are you blushin'?!"

Fuck.

As if on cue, his cheeks burned brighter.

"Am I making you feel flustered~? Does it make it tickle more?"

"WOHOHOULD YOU SHUHUT UHUHUP?!"

"So it does. Hmm," Angel hummed as he started moving his hands faster and faster up and down his body. Up his sides, then down his sides, up his tummy, then down his tummy.

It was maddening.

It was tortuous.

It was wonderful.

If Heaven didn't feel like this, he didn't want it. If salvation didn't give him the same amount of relief and safety and joy that playing with his lover gave, then it wasn't worth it. He'd stay in this inferno of hell forever if it meant he could stay with Angel. Stay in this moment.

The demon in question kept on with his teases.

"Who's the cutest little thing~?" Angel cooed as he noticed Husk jump when he touched the lowest portion of his belly, "Ohoho, looks like someone's ticklish! Coochie coochie coooo~!"

Just when Husk thought he couldn't laugh any harder, he did.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA YOU FUHUHUCKING PRIHIHICK HAHAHA!" Husk snorted.

"Oho my gosh! You sound just like Fat Nuggets!" Angel chortled.

Husk's laughter was beginning to go silent, and started getting wheezier. This, Angel knew, meant it was time to stop.

"Alright, doll, I think you've had enough," Angel said as he released his prisoner.

As the spider removed his hands from his body, Husk started panting and giggling hysterically, still feeling the phantom sensations on his skin.

"Need some help there?" Angel offered, moving his hands back towards the other's belly.

Husk curled away from his hands, "Dohohon't!"

"I'm not gonna tickle ya, I swear! I'm just gonna get the leftover tickles to go away. Okay?"

Husk nodded hesitantly and revealed his stomach to him.

Angel's hands met his fur, and although it did jump at first, the firm pressure and massaging motions rubbed away the remaining tickles, just like he said it would.

"Dahamn. That really works." Husk breathed.

"Right? Now do you feel better?"

"Yeah," Husk sat up as Angel gave him room, "You know, for such a compliant gentleman, you sure do know how to take charge."

Angel swiveled to Husk with his mouth agape. "I can be a boss when I wanna be!"

"Heh. Sure, power bottom."

Angel reached for Husk's right foot (or paw) and skittered one set of fingers over it.

"NonononONONOHOHO! I'M SORRY, I TAKE IT BACK! I tahahake it bahahack! Hehehehe!"

"Uh huh. That's what I thought," Angel stopped and huffed with a wink, nothing but kind love behind his eyes, "So. You ready for bed?"

"After all that laughing? Hell yes I am. I might even sleep through tomorrow." Husk said tiredly.

Angel chuckled, sidling up behind Husk and gently cacooning his arms around him again.

"This okay?"

Husk sighed.

"It's perfect."

-------

Wooh! That was a rollercoaster! 😅 Hope the people that wanted lee!husk enjoyed this fic 🫶

[starbylers]

After spending some time listening and re-listening and thinking a lot, I think I finally have my head wrapped around all these songs. This post is an exploration of what they could tell us about Mike’s story, and also a sort of theory I noticed once I saw the full picture. This playlist is—in my opinion—the story we’ve been theorising for the past two years reflected in 12 songs. That might sound hyperbolic but it’s simply what I heard and interpreted, and wanted to share because I enjoyed writing it. I hope this is an interesting read!

If you didn’t see my last post about why I do believe this is Finn’s Mike/ST playlist despite the somewhat ambiguous title you can read that here. It’s totally okay if you disagree but I’m not interested in debating it, and this analysis is coming from a perspective of assuming we've guessed correctly that the playlist relates to ST (obviously we can't 1000% verify that, but for the purposes of this post that’s my stance).

I’m going to focus on themes and overall meanings in the songs because in my opinion that’s where any connections are going to lie, rather than specific lines holding anything important (aside from a few which I’ll highlight) because I feel like that’s closest to how Finn would’ve thought while making it. Basically a macro level representation of Mike and what he goes through next season, something that would help a person get into the headspace of a character. Oh and my larger point is about the playlist as a whole, which will come together at the end :)

➠ Track 1 | Ballad of the Texas King

The first song is an anomaly in that I think it’s meant to set the tone more than anything else. These explain better than I could hope to:

"Itʼs a murder ballad, and as is common in murder ballads, deals with promise and innocence being snuffed out.” [link]

"Clarke sings of a chance encounter with an ominous figure that feels akin to selling your soul at the crossroads" [link]

Hey kid come along, something is wrong, I believe you now / All this to say only one way that this can go / Come with us for a ride / Don’t it feel like hell? Boy let me tell you, that’s where you are

• • •

A nice little coincidence, Finn himself is quoted as saying season 5 is a “crossroads”. I can see this song being an allusion to inevitable big choices with life-altering consequences next season, and also more mature themes being tackled within Mike’s story. I mean he’s stepping back into his role as leader, and now they’re older that will come with a lot more weight and responsibility in situations where the fate of the world is likely hanging in the balance. Not to mention how his personal struggles will be tied up in that, it’s probable that a slightly darker, more self-reflective—and transformative—tone is waiting for us in regards to season 5 Mike.

➠ Track 2 | What You're Doing

A simple song about a turbulent relationship where one person is unhappy because their partner is messing them around, and they're pleading with them to stop.

Look what you’re doing, I'm feeling blue and lonely / You got me running and there's no fun in it / Please stop your lying, you've got me crying, girl

The partner is the one holding control in the situation, while they feel at the mercy of their partner’s careless choices. The mood here is one of helplessness and desperation while still remaining open-hearted, hoping they’ll change.

I've been waiting here for you wondering what you're gonna do / If you should need a love that's true it’s me / Why should it be so much to ask of you what you're doing to me?

• • •

This is heavily M!Ieven coded. What do we know about their dynamic? Mike is always the one chasing El (trying to “win her back” in s3, terrified of her not needing him in s4, stressing about her being in danger all the time). El is consistently seeking autonomy (choosing to learn about her identity over pursuing romance with him in s2, choosing to break up with him in s3, choosing to leave him behind in s4, and I’m willing to bet she’s the one who removes herself from his storyline in s5). We know their separation will happen early season, and naturally things between them must be unstable leading up to this. El being the one to pull away while Mike stresses over it checks out considering these past patterns, and also the end of s4 with her already closing herself off while Mike appears at a loss.

➠ Track 3 | After The Earthquake

A song reminiscing on a relationship and the failure and death of it, with a sense of lingering nostalgia and unwillingness to let it go. It’s set to the backdrop of a metaphorical car crash.

It wasn't built to last / If you wake up you’ll remember the awful things I said / Looking back to the vibrant days / Those days I'd never let you fall apart but things fade / Why would I ever fall in love again when every detail’s over the guard rail? / Velvet curtains drawn, flowers at your feet / Say you’ll climb your way out of your wake now / Are you awake now?

• • •

In simpler terms…this is a break up song. The longing tone makes sense to me for M!Ieven because I’ve long suspected the initial split between them is not going to be super clean cut (this should make more sense later). Mike and El were together for a long time for their age, and have a lot of intense shared memories. El was also his first and only experience of relationships; it’s going to be difficult to detach. It being the right decision to end something doesn’t mean it’s easy or simple. Even if Mike is gay and didn’t truly like her romantically, he still loved her and in my opinion that distinction isn’t something he’s going to have figured out and made peace with the second it ends.

➠ Track 4 | Promises I've Made

Very straightforward and repetitive, and follows on seamlessly from the last song: this is about having trouble moving on from someone who’s left your life.

Ever since you have gone the days don't seem so bright and I wish I could forget you but I can’t / I have promised myself I wouldn't dream of you but I find that awful hard sometimes to do

• • •

Based on what I’ve seen people might fight me on this, but to me it’s M!Ieven coded mainly because of its positioning in the playlist (directly after a struggling relationship song + break up song) but also because it is technically about an ex love. Could we say it doesn’t need to be interpreted that specifically? Yes. I suppose it could be Byler coded too but personally...the way I would interpret it is as Mike moping over whatever happened with El. There’s not any intense emotional pining going on; if you listen it has a very laid back, chill sort of mood and is honestly very upbeat. There’s no deep heartbreak. It’s just about missing someone. Plus it sort of perfectly closes out the process we see over the last two songs of being unhappy with someone, to breaking up and grieving, to the typical post-break up struggle of navigating this hole in your life and naturally missing what once filled it. This is a whole sub-arc for Mike.

➠ Track 5 | Angst In My Pants

We’ve reached the gay section! This song is about trying to fit yourself into an acceptable��aspirational, even—life but never feeling content, and continuously trying to squash this troubling Feeling, the titular phrase: angst in (your) pants. Some people think it’s a reference to literal physical arousal but others including me think that in context it’s intended more as a metaphor for sexual frustration/dissatisfaction.

I hope it doesn't show, it'll go away / It's just a passing phase / When you’re all alone, you and your head / When you think you’ve made it disappear it comes again, hello, I’m here and I’ve got angst in my pants

The queer subtext here is very clear, I don’t think I even have to explain (check out the cover art too lol). The song closes with a realisation/acceptance that no, this “phase” won't ever go away i.e. it’s just who you are.

Give it a hundred years, it won't go away

I also thought one of the opening verse lines was an interesting segue from the last few songs:

But when you’re all alone and nothing bites you’d wish you stayed at home with someone nice

• • •

Angst In My Pants may aswell be titled Forced Conformity the thematic parallels to ST are that blatant. Another point for team Mike Wheeler actually is connected to the main themes of the show like all his other friends, and no it’s not because he’s somehow oppressed for being a nerd. Also rather than being about feelings for another person the song is about personal struggle with sexuality which excites me to think about in relation to Mike because we’ve been saying he needs to explore his own identity outside of being a love interest.

➠ Track 6 | The Better Side

A very sweet, slow, slightly melancholy song. I’ll be honest I cannot decipher more than 2/3 of the lyrics but here are the most meaningful ones of those I could:

I know you cry and I’m trying to keep you by my warmth

You’re never gonna see my eyes, you’re coloring all the skies you want to / I tried staying alive, keep my head on the better side when you’re far away

You’re on the better side you’re always the better one for me

You’re all that I need, I’m not gonna miss you anymore

My understanding is it’s about pining over someone who is a “better” choice, whatever that means in this context. Deciding you want someone, someone who you don’t currently have, someone who is maybe distracted, distant or physically absent? But vowing to change that because you recognise that you need them.

• • •

This directly follows the Gay Thoughts song, and precedes the Gay Thoughts song 2.0 so I feel safe interpreting it as Byler coded and about how it’s Mike’s turn to pine. (Also because “better” implies that there’s a “worse” i.e. this is a situation where you’re differentiating between two things i.e. in Mike��s case, Will vs El). I can envision Mike and Will getting moments together away from whatever chaos is surely going on, having the space to connect more where Mike starts becoming conscious of his feelings, realising slowly that Will is the “better” one for him. And as the song also suggests, perhaps Will has pulled away from him in the beginning. I think this is possible because the torment Will's likely going to endure from Vecna could understandably cause him to push Mike away, fearing his safety or him finding out how Will feels, and also I just don’t think he’ll be able to stand the pain of being M!Ieven’s couple’s counsellor for much longer without cracking. But I think Mike “it’ll be easier if we’re a team” Wheeler would make it his mission to fix any rift between them, the final line literally being I’m not gonna miss you anymore.

➠ Track 7 | Don't Ask Me To Explain

As far as I can tell, this song is about being afraid to face queer feelings for another person who is also hiding this about themselves, and being conflicted about whether to confess because you're not sure how they feel.

How will I ever know you enough to love you if you're hiding who you are? / How am I supposed to let it show when I don't even know? / Don’t move on without me, who will be watching my body when I sleep? / I don't want to be the one who's coming out first, I'd really like to but I'm just too shy

The end is an admission of…something. I’m not sure whether to interpret it as wishful thinking over this queer relationship you believe you can’t have, or as an offhand comment about forcing yourself to love someone you can’t because of your sexuality. Interesting either way:

It’s so easy to lie to myself and pretend that I could love you but I can't

I did do some research and the alleged true explanation of this song is it’s from one queer friend to another (man to woman, I assume both closeted, maybe a failed romance?) but I could only find one uncited source for that and everywhere else seems to agree with my interpretation so it seems when listening to the song that’s the story people hear. (Plus either way the song is about being queer. Undeniably so).

• • •

It’s not Byler coded we’re way past that, it literally just…is them. It does seem to suggest a level of internal conflict in Mike regarding coming out that I can’t say I expected (yes I have no doubts about canon Byler but I’m also a pessimist by nature—that should tell you how obvious their endgame is though lmao—so I assumed the Duffers would go wrong somewhere). I always thought he would be almost consciously clueless about himself until he finds out Will loves him, and the focus be more on him liking Will back rather than him liking boys (and obviously wasn’t a fan of that), but the prospect of Mike actually being aware and grappling with his sexuality is what we’ve been praying for and builds on the more low-level thrum of sexual confusion in Angst In My Pants. Oh and the song also could suggest Mike suspecting that Will likes him/is queer too before anyone confesses.

➠ Track 8 | What Do You Want Me To Do?

Another straightforward one. It’s quite angsty, a big contrast to the more sad feelings about a relationship from the earlier songs. This is about someone who left you for someone else/someone who walked out on you, who decides they want you back.

You walked out took your chance, turned your back on our romance / You said the change would do you good / But then the bubble burst your dream, turned into a nightmare scream / You came crawling to me your knees, and you were asking me to love you please

The main message of the repetitive chorus is basically: you want me to need you, but that’s not real love. You’re just using me to feel better about yourself.

What do you want me to do? Say that I need you more? Is that what real lovers do? Or only what you use me for?

• • •

I mean isn’t that last part how we’ve always described M!Ieven’s dynamic—all about aligning with the other’s needs whether for safety, validation or feeling ‘normal’, rather than genuine romance? I don’t think there’s any chance at all of El leaving Mike for someone else lol, as I said I don’t think we need to interpret these songs super specifically. But it does make me wonder: could we possibly see a moment of regression for El at some point in the season, after they separate? The focus here in my opinion is frustration at someone trying to re-enter your life when you know they don’t truly love you. Reflecting on their dynamic I talked about with earlier songs and their history in the show (El walking away, Mike scared to lose her), is it possible the break up could leave Mike struggling initially then he progressively understands why it was the right choice (especially after spending time with Will), meanwhile for El it’s the opposite—she’s more sure about breaking up but something happens later on that shakes her belief in herself. Her having one last hurdle to overcome in her dependency on Mike to finally break that pattern of hindering her growth by retreating to him could make sense. And based on this song…Mike would not be receptive to being El’s safety net. Growth for both of them.

➠ Track 9 | Substitute

Again, very angsty compared to earlier. It’s about a relationship characterised by false perceptions (focused on class), and those being what is holding it together. One partner is pretending to be something they’re not, cosplaying as someone else, and the other is also being dishonest/fake.

You think we look really good together / My fine looking suit is really made out of sack / The simple things you see are all complicated / Substitute your lies for fact / I see right through your plastic mac

The relationship breaks down because of this and their partner doesn’t truly want to fix things, and ultimately trades up.

Those crocodile tears are what you cry / It’s a genuine problem, you won’t try to work it out at all, you just pass it by / Substitute me for him / Substitute my coke for gin

Essentially: your partner not knowing the real you because you’re putting on a facade—the facade being the version of you they really like, the thing that was making you compatible—leads the relationship to fail. The literal title suggests neither of them as they are are what the other truly wants or needs.

• • •

Obviously this does not directly parallel M!leven in terms of the topic of the lying but in terms of the themes and core relationship issues…yeah. To me this could be about point Mike has reached after gradually coming to realisations about the nature of their relationship after it’s over, like I mentioned before. I can envision a mid-late season confrontation (or something less aggressive sounding lol) between them, pairing perfectly with the topic of the previous song. El scared trying to fall back on Mike and he’s like…no, we don’t work, I can’t be that for you anymore and this is why: betraying who he is (nerd) to impress her, trying so hard to play the “boyfriend” role (yet they never successfully emotionally connect), if he’s gay then there’s also the facade of straightness, etc. I think it would show a lot of emotional maturity from him honestly, and I really need him to have a strong grasp on what went wrong with El for them to have a shot at forming a healthy friendship, and also to psychologically process all that stuff before getting involved with Will.

➠ Track 10 | The Rebel Kind

A short song about life being tough when you don’t have much (this one is class-focused too), but still craving the freedom that comes from not following societal rules and pressures for how to do life “right”, and instead living on your own terms. Basically the struggle is worth not having to conform. The first verse sums it up pretty well:

They call us the rebel kind but they don’t understand the things a man must do to prove that he’s a man / It’s not easy but I don’t mind, I just wanna run with the rebel kind

• • •

Again, obviously the specific topic is not relevant to ST but the thematic parallels blew my mind, I mean the entire show is about people being outcasts and learning to find strength in that, and the final season is going to majorly drive that point. We know this from the fact that Will “being different” Byers is the one who’s arc is said to tie up the whole show. Now in regards to Mike…if this doesn’t scream forced conformity and deciding to reject it for your own happiness I don’t know what does. It perfectly captures the thematic end point of his arc next season (and not just his but probably the entire party’s in one way or another). Also the toxic masculinity reference in that one line applies heavily to Mike with his history of trying so hard to do what he thinks he supposed to do in going from boy to man i.e. We’re not kids anymore. Did you think we were never gonna get girlfriends?

➠ Track 11 | Block Rockin’ Beats

Another one I think is mainly to set a tone; no real lyrics just beats. In my opinion it comes after The Rebel Kind for a reason. Somehow it just makes sense, it’s got this really loud, frenzied, unrestrained energy to it.

➠ Track 12 | Just What I Needed

We end off with a love (or desire?) song. It’s interesting because it’s quite aggressive sonically but at the same time it talks about being with someone in a simple uncomplicated way:

I don’t mind you coming here and wasting all my time / I don’t mind you hanging out and talking in your sleep

…but it’s also very intense how you feel with them.

Cause when you’re standing oh so near I kinda lose my mind

There’s a repeated line that stuck in my head. It’s obviously written about a female subject, but there is such a rejection of the feminine going on:

It’s not the perfume that you wear, it’s not the ribbons in your hair

It’s saying those feminine attributes are not why this person is attractive—and yeah logically that means the subject must have those things, but as I’ve said I don’t think these songs need to be interpreted on such a specific level. The point being made is about a deeper connection. The line is just intriguing to me from the perspective of Mike being into boys, I mean he could’ve picked literally any other romance song.

I needed someone to feed / I needed someone to bleed / I guess you’re just what I needed

The message here is basically: I was craving the rawest form of connection/intimacy with another human being (that doesn’t have to necessarily mean sexual it’s just those visceral words feed, bleed in comparison to perfume and ribbons which sound very fluffy lol)…and now I’ve found you and it’s exactly what I was looking for.

• • •

With all the themes through the songs of rejecting fake relationships and conformity, and accepting and exploring queerness…Will Byers is obviously going to be the thing Mike needed. I’ve been saying (and so have many) but Byler isn’t happening till the end. Also the playlist finishing with this song is telling in my opinion. Aside from the Castle Byers Classics link, the title itself implies searching for something which is now found, a journey being over. I say this for the purposes of pushing my agenda about this playlist painting a narrative. Hear me out:

Personally……that’s not accidental. It just isn’t. Even if my more specific interpretations aren’t correct, I just cannot believe that this wasn’t curated to draw a particular picture. I believe in coincidences and if the playlist had been titled as it was with a bunch of random unconnected irrelevant songs I’d be the first person to file it under that. But the title and the inclusion of a song from Will’s official playlist and these specific songs in this specific order? Yeah it’s about s5 Mike and I cannot wait to see him! If you made it this far thanks for reading <3

[orangeave]

all the places light does not touch

wednesday addams x gn!reader

summary: there are places in wednesday that the light doesn’t touch and she can’t help but to put you in all of them.

words: 4.2k

orange speaks: final part to the great war (part one | part two). damn, it's been a hot minute, huh? apologies for the wait, but i hope y'all will enjoy this last installment.

Gravesoil clings to Wednesday’s nail beds, a desperate plea scratching against her vocal cords that she will never admit to beyond this moment. You are mumbling to yourself, a language she’s never heard of slicing through the quiet; the mother tongue of the beast that lingers in places she cannot reach nor see. Wild, bloodshot eyes survey the empty space in front of you and veins crowd underneath your lashes. There’s a pause before you hunch over, hands reaching up to grasp tightly at your head and – 

Wings ripple out of tearing flesh, blood soaking the floor underneath her former lover’s feet. An ominous, onyx liquid takes over the whites of your eyes, dripping slowly down the apple of your cheeks and leaving dark tear tracks in their wake that trail pass a shuddering throat. 

How foolish she was to forget what lays dormant beneath your skin, waiting to unleash itself upon the world. Control was hard fought and just barely won after each battle, a traumatic fear for the possibility of a blood-curdling outcome hardening the usual soft color of your gaze. 

Wednesday had always been there to placate the darker side of you but times were different now. The consequences of her wrongdoings were forming; in the shape of elongating teeth, in downy feathers expanding to three-times the length of your arm span, and in horns spiralling to reach the sky above them.  

You were horrifyingly marvellous. 

Gone is the fear from before, an innately evil force hunkering down to take its place. Tendrils of hellfire coat your skin in a blaze of heat that Wednesday can starkly feel, wraiths rising from the puddles of crimson ichor that is still shedding and staining ghoulish flesh. A sinister grin warps your features into a gruesome mosaic and she is wary of the scheming tug to your lips.

“Do you feel it?” You rasp, multiple layers of cadence making your voice echo and overlap into something otherworldly. Wednesday’s brows pinch, a frown of incomprehension downturning the corner of her lips. “The inevitable culling of this night, can you feel it?”

“Enough. You’re talking nonsense.” She sneers.

A shiver caresses the curve of her spine when you sigh solemnly in return, the ground trembling beneath your feet as you glide closer to her. Your left hand lifts and fingertips that resemble claws leave behind rivers of blood as you skim her jawline, thumb tucking into her jugular before the entirety of the extremity encloses around her throat. 

The touch is light, there’s no weight in the action but Wednesday chokes all the same. A primal instinct of survival urges her to fight the hold because while running has never been in Wednesday’s repertoire, the need for bodily autonomy will always remain. Personal space is sacred when the world longs to claim and taint everything she’s ever come to own.

Nero; a first companion forcibly taken by the will of another. 

Tyler; a first kiss lost to the lips of a monster. 

You; a first something she’s afraid to name with an end she’s yet to come to terms with.

Each one is a death with its own cause and reaction but they all drive her further away into solitude, into a body built too big for her bones.

There’s a light within her that flickers and spiders which crawl from crevices dug into ivory calcium, seeking the warmth that it offers – it never lasts, they scurry with every faltering glow and Wednesday is left with the echo of an ancestor, of a destiny meant to be spent alone.

Be it by her hand or someone else’s, the truth of her fate lingers. 

Still, the scraps from the before she seldom acknowledges; when words meant to burn were just measly thoughts to create distance and a twin heart still laid next to hers, where a sense of forever was yet to fade and hope, however gross the negligence of it was, was able to reach even the unlit corners of her, craves to forget – just for a moment – that this is who she has to be. 

For everyone’s sake but most especially yours, Wednesday scatters those scraps until they exist in locations that are inaccessible, even to herself, and no one suffers more for it than she does. So, as she swallows back the bile of her desires, her tongue is sour with bitterness and syllables formulate an acrid speech that tries to chase away the taste of all that she wants but cannot have. 

“All I detect is your feeble minded attempt to frighten me. You’re a bleeding heart, Tesoro, we both know you’re too soft to follow through with your meagre threats. You never were tenacious enough to do what was needed to keep me, this is no different.”  

Regret is immediate; acid does not eliminate bitterness, it only serves to make the taste resonate deeper until she’s choking on the foul filth of an inescapable death. The true difference between you, she realizes, is that she’s not capable of being selfless without leaving scars on the ones she’s trying to shelter and that your way of being selfless only leaves you with more. 

A thick smog of shadows gather in the atmosphere, sharpening your features and maniacal laughter washes over the cusps of Wednesday’s eardrums. Her pulse jumps and she just knows that you felt it because your grip on her throat tightens at last, unapologetic nails becoming a barbed wire necklace that itches to splay her tendons for the world to witness. 

“Oh, Mulsa, that’s where you’re wrong.” You tsk with condescension. “Everything is different. I’m finally who I was always meant to be, existing outside of the fear that plagued me, and it’s all thanks to you. I have embraced my destiny, can you say the same?”

Mockery drips from your words and her reality suddenly shifts as she finds herself in a castle that assembles itself with a swish of your wrist. It reigns beautifully decrepit in nature; rotten beams of wood rib the frame, moss rests in divots of cracking stone, and moonlight glints through openings in the ceiling. You casually lean against a gothic throne of skulls that no one sits upon and Wednesday transforms into a court jester, in the presence of a lowly regent who pretends that they do not pull all of the strings behind the scenes.

“How long do you think you’ll last in this kingdom of solitude, Wednesday? Who else will you hurt in your quest for knowledge? And do the answers you find at the end of it all outweigh the expense others have to pay to get you there?” Your voice rumbles, ricocheting off stone walls before striking her exactly where you know it will hurt most.

Color touches her skin for the first time, anger and humiliation mingling to create a red sheen on pale flesh. It’s a sort of wickedness she never thought you to be capable of but perhaps she should have seen it coming. 

“None of that is relevant.” She whispers harshly.

“Isn’t it? Am I not the cataclysm of your choices? Is this not me paying your dues?” Massive charcoal wings beat; once, twice, three times – they propel you upward, high into the air and tree bark horns tilt your jaw back with their weight. Specks of blood rain down from the force, painting the surrounding layout maroon, dousing Wednesday in turn. You bare your arms outward, showcasing your new form to an audience of one.

Crisp, off-white linen hugs the muscles of your torso while the sleeves furl at each elbow. Three buttons are undone, revealing a prominent collarbone and a smooth expanse of skin. Dark beige slacks loosely clutch to long legs – one slightly bent at the knee, toeing the edge of the other as you hover in place. You are all neutral tones with monochromatic undercurrents, eyes drowning in a void of black reeking of judgement, and vibrancy is lost to a death by her own hands.

Wednesday licks her lips, catching droplets of metallic liquid on her tongue. Stagnancy overrules the scent of trees in the foreground and there is no reprieve as she suffocates on nothing but the truth. Her resolve is crumbling; you may not be a ruler of this kingdom but you do have an undeniable deathgrip on her heartstrings. If you were anyone else, that fact would be revolting. 

“Unless,” a pause. “Maybe this is what you wanted. You always did love everything dark and twisted.”

Slowly, you descend in front of her and there’s a soft click as the heels of your dress shoes settle down. Dust kicks up into the air, your wings breezing along the floor, and you wordlessly take four shallow strides around her. You come to stand behind her, breath fanning over the sensitive stretch of her neck. She can see you no longer but just your presence in itself is taunting.

There’s a brush of fingertips against her back, nudging her forward and before long she arrives at a set of steps. You shove her up them; the action makes her stumble and her balance is lost to the last stair. She falls into the vacant throne, which she now realizes belongs to her. Twin knees scrape the edge, making her body twist to relieve the pain and sit properly. 

Indignation rises to the surface at the mistreatment and Wednesday tries to swallow it, to keep away words that will only perpetuate this discourse, but it’s fruitless. “My proclivities aren’t your concern. Up to this point, every decision you have made has been solely yours. I am not to blame for your indiscretions.”

“Perhaps.” You nod, standing resolutely at the incline up to the throne she sits upon. “Truly, I’m not here for placations or reasonings. You are partially correct in assuming that this,” your hand waves around your form, “is not the inner workings of your… machinations.”

“Then why? What is this macabre display for?” Wednesday interrupts.

None of it makes sense; how easily you forfeit your earlier claims. 

“Because, in the end, this was never for you.” You start, something dark creeping along your legs. It rises to dwarf your already tall stature and features are slow to form but when they do, they are wholly monstrous and deeply unsettling. There is absolutely nothing in this world that compares and warning bells screech a dizzying spell of the danger to come should Wednesday choose to misstep in its presence.

Exaggerating steps loosen the hold it has on you, materializing into translucent flesh, and your body is distorted to her as the being stands in front of you. An arm raises, travelling up to your chest, and stuttering in wicked glee before plunging in. You gasp loudly, figure hunching over, and the being forces you straight with its free hand at your shoulder. With a dramatic flair, it rips its fingers out and they do not come back empty. 

Without care or regard, the beast walks away from you, and the sight that greets Wednesday grips her with terror. The facade of power fades to nothing and you are left human but skeletal. Wings, horns, the black void; they’re all gone, and exhaustion coats your dull eyes, your knees buckling to the floor. Falling forward, your shoulders rise, head ducking low as nailbeds of blood trace the cracking stone of the floor. Convulsions attack your spine, driving a body of bones further into the ground. 

“A distraction,” The beast rumbles in glee, an olden accent curling over its words. “To pull you away from the truth.” A bleeding, bruising heart rests in its palm; dark blotches covering the organ and Wednesday finds it disconcerting the way they pulsate, widening with each heavy breath you shudder. “We finally understand now; love is a weakness. For children who still play with toy soldiers, dreaming of the day they will change the world. It’s quite humorous, don’t you think?”

And there, right then, despite your best efforts to play it off as something else, Wednesday finally sees the evil for what it truly is: self-preservation. It is protection, disguising itself as rage. It is guardianship, shouldering all that you cannot and turning it into power. It is the heart in a beast’s hand, with a cage that moulds along its edges that wills itself not to break any further.

Red teeth gleam up at her, a grotesque smile staring straight through her, and dissuading her attention from the creature next to you. “I never wanted to change the world, Wednesday, not really anyway. But I did want you – not just the good parts but also the pieces of you that raged in contempt. I wanted the entirety of you: your doubt, your fear, your selfishness; the thousand-yard stare, the tempered soul, the frostbitten heart. I wanted the girl who despised even the thought of love.”

“No.” Wednesday utters except it’s too quiet, caught in her throat.  

“God, Wednesday, I wanted it all – everything you were willing to part with and nothing more. Yet, you turned your back on us and you didn't even have the decency to give me a valid reason why. I deserved better than a half-assed excuse as to why it had to end. But it’s okay. Blame is a two-way street and I was wrong too. I pushed and ignored every warning sign, dancing along boundaries and fed into your suspicions without a need to prove myself to be on your side.”

“No.” She tries again. 

(Still not enough, still on the cusp of- of-.)

“And I guess, this is all to say that we both had a choice and perhaps we chose wrong, though maybe the cards were always stacked against us. Now here we are, forcing each other to relieve it all over again, and it’s time to put an end to this. We finally get to have what we tried to cheat each other out of. You finally get to be free and I finally get to say goodb-.” 

“No!” The single word rips and tears and mutilates her throat in the effort to leave the confines of her voice box. All her life Wednesday has been toeing the line between devastation and freedom, a weak grip on her inhibitions, always viscerally trying to prove something or another. Until a sick sense of clarity washes over what this all means; one more loss, one more all alone, one final nail in the coffin. 

A death to rewrite all the others. 

Falling in love with you was like falling asleep, gradually then all at once, because it crept along the edges of her vision until it was too late and despite her aversion to it, it was warm. And the days that followed were everything she thought herself to be incapable of; the quiet nights, the sound of rustling sheets as she wrote pages upon pages on her typewriter, the dulcet tones of you humming along to vibrating strings, the laughter without reservation, the eyes full of a home made just for her, the hands that held her softly in the dark. 

And then, of course, the self-sabotage set in. Her wants and desires took a backseat to make room for fear, and somewhere in the midst, the ease of your love made way for her doubt and she swears you both lost something that day. The person she became to combat her loss of control isn’t something she’s proud of but maybe… maybe this is the part where she pleads with you to understand. Where she lays everything on the line; all her misgivings and the lies she tries to tell herself to circumvent all that she does not understand.  

When your eyes cut across her own, you look at her like you know, and the uncaged beast only laughs as your features close themselves off from her once more. The vulnerability seeps out, draining from trembling, bloodsoaked fingers, and replacing itself with indifference before Wednesday even has the chance to rearrange her thoughts into coherency. The pleas building in her throat die, falling into the void of every other thing she’s left unsaid.

How repulsive.  

Wednesday’s jaw clenches at her own inadequacy, teeth clicking in time with her shallow breaths. Hands of ice grasp tightly at each other while she tries to reform the truth she’s been meaning to say. It’s time, she attempts to coax herself. No longer will she bow to her lesser qualms. 

Enough is enough. 

“You were wrong.”

A feigned grace pulls her from the throne, rising up and carrying her down the steps that will lead her to you. Firm resolve weights each footfall to the stone beneath Wednesday, laying the groundwork for an outcome that doesn’t end with ties severed indefinitely. A disgusting amount of trepidation still lingers menacingly, but not for prior reasons. It washes over her because she knows that if she doesn't get this right and you walk away from her once again, it will be for the last time. 

As she reaches you, the beast rears up into the space between you, your heart ducking out of sight with a single movement. Up close, Wednesday can see the second the previous glee renders itself obsolete, paving the way for rage to form in its stead. Translucence melds into mortal flesh in an instant, further providing a barrier to you and it’s features constantly flicker; sweeping into each other, refusing to commit to a lone one. 

All of it is a warning: for you may have never been able to truly hurt her, but this beast holds no such inhibitions. And yet, Wednesday ignores it, skirting around the form with a brief flicker of eye contact. Rolling coals follow the movement, a sneer deepening the gouges at the corners of it’s mouth. Heat steadily rises at her back when she kneels before you, gaining in temperature, and a hearth set ablaze licks the skin of Wednesday’s nape, until sweat lines her hairline.  

“Before,” Wednesdays continues despite the duality of the cold shell holding your gaze captive and the heat at her back, her fingertips fluttering around your body but never settling. “You said you’d never be good enough for me.” A scowl crawls into her features, disdain vaguely clinging to her words. “You were wrong.” 

Confusion briefly overcomes the frost but it’s not enough. You flinch with every syllable, as if her words still burn; like your flesh is a step away from igniting and she’s dousing you in lighter fluid. A battlefield sprawls before her, all of her own making, and each word is a precarious mark upon the earth, hidden with landmines Wednesday tries to sidestep. 

Wednesday thinks this might be part of her destiny that Goody forgot to mention – truth be told, self-loathing is akin to starvation; the hunger pains force you to eat yourself from the inside out until nothing remains. Perhaps that’s the most tragic intricacy of her fate, to commit atrocities for the sake of others' preservation, and to suffer all the more for it. Now, trying to find the medium between the two banks entirely on her willingness to push aside everything she’s ever thought to know about herself. 

As Wednesday gazes upon you; you with the sunrise in your eyes and the red candle wax burning lips, she clings to the notion that it isn’t the dying that scares her, but the insurmountable loneliness that follows in the wake of your departure. It is hollow and damning because you are attempting to leave, in more ways than one, and she is running out of options that will force you to stay. 

Longing breaches through the whisper of her words, “You were too much, in all the soft ways I desire to detest. Too good, too simple; too easy to love. And so, I wanted-” Wednesday’s breath falters, fingers folding to tear at the lines of each palm. “I wanted to make you pay, for forcing these ugly emotions upon me. I never wished to feel the juvenile propensity to need you, in all the foul ways weaker beings fall victim to. Yet, it is those feelings that beg of me to forfeit this charade, because, for however seldom I say it, I do love you.”

Finally, Wednesday reaches for your hand, knuckles scraping along the stone to slot her fingers between your own. “I’m in love with you, and it is all-consuming, vile, and entirely effortless. I may not know how it will end, but I believe there exists a place out there built just for the two of us; one that is otherworldly, and beautiful, and so, so alive. Destiny be damned.”

Wednesday watches as your eyes crawl the length of her face, an unreadable expression marring the expanse of your features. A shudder partly pulls your body away from her, a heavy exhale escaping your lips. She can’t tell whether her words were well received as you hunch your knees under your chin, cradling your elbows around the edges of your calves. Just as she goes to continue, desperation clinging to the fraying ends of her sanity, your free palm craters the ground beneath you. 

Long forgotten wraiths spiral into view and confusion tears her form upwards onto her feet, unwittingly losing the grip she has on you. They begin to chase her and the ground beneath her feet zooms out of focus as she tries to get away. They’re faster, upon Wednesday in mere seconds, and then she’s falling, falling, falling, and for a long moment nothing comes up to catch her.

Yet again, the scenery of the throne room changes and she stumbles to her knees in a foreign land. 

Grass bunches up between her fingers, wet and coarse, and a graveyard looms before her. Each tombstone lining the distance is marked with a name, cementing every loss she’s ever faced; not just of people, but places and emotions too. A beat passes before you appear at her side, steps away from an open casket set six feet in the ground. When she shuffles up to unsteady feet, the body within it looks suspiciously like you. 

Your voice carries on the wind, circling her as you murmur, “What if you’re wrong?”

There’s a slew of answers on the tip of Wednesday’s tongue, but most fall short, never quite encompassing what she truly wants to say. One, though, rises above the rest, so simple it makes her want to scoff. Instead, she pushes the sound down, and in the midst of the words that follow, a part of her realizes that she’s finally learning; understanding. There are things in the world that you need not fight, nor feelings that are too childish to accept. Some things are just simple; easy.

“But what if I’m right?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Wednesday sees you sway slightly in place, her words – honest at last – completely sinking in. With a noticeable limp stuttering your footsteps, you gradually move in front of her. The tips of your dress shoes scratch along the edges of her own boots as you eliminate every ounce of Wednesday’s personal space, your arm rising up in her peripheral vision. Hesitation faults the movement, and she recognizes the doubt for what it is: a fear she never meant to place within you; of her reaction, of her motives, of her.  

With time, she promises to herself to put all of her wrongs right, but for now, she gently latches onto your wrist, bringing your hand down to rest on the underside of her jaw. Your eyes flash with recognition before your forehead descends upon hers, a shaky breath exhaling against her lips that sounds like an okay. Suddenly boneless, your body sags, shoulders loosening as your other arm reaches around the small of her back, tugging her into you. 

You hold onto Wednesday tighter than she ever had the audacity to covet her desires and she cannot deny the sense of home that follows. 

Without fear, her feet lift up, gaining a slight height advantage to place a lingering kiss atop your head, but a figure drifts into focus before her eyes can close. The beast faintly shimmers behind the tombstone with your name on it that fades, a neutral expression on it’s face. It watches Wednesday closely, eyes of coal simmering into ash as it takes in your figure so entwined with her own. Your heart still resides in it’s palm, but even from here, Wednesday can gauge how loosely it’s grip is. A nod of a head and a quirk of lips beckons her, once last time, to take in another truth. 

Love has many faces, and seldom are they seen clearly.

Your heart finds its way back to its home as the beast settles, slowly descending in height, and it’s features melt into a vaguely familiar countenance. It is you, but aged, with laugh lines marking the corners of your eyes, and a nostalgic smile at the cusp of your lips. And it is an echo, of both your and her future, teetering on the edge of a forever that will soon be fully earned. 

( – there are places in wednesday that the light doesn’t touch and she can’t help but to put you in all of them.

but then you learn to become the light, and all the dark places shine.)

[pia-nor481]

She Looks Like a Star- Chapter One

Multidriver x reader (mostly Oscar this chapter)

With the growth of her fan base she decides it’s best to join a big company, what she didn’t expect was how scary it was actually going to be.

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She was nervous walking down the hall, wearing obnoxiously loud heels and a tight skirt, not sure how to feel while wearing what was unusual attire for her. Typically she spent her time in lounge wear, lingerie or nothing so having to wear business smart clothes was a little unnerving. Every few steps she looked at the document in the open folder, trying to find the correct room for the meeting she was supposed to be sat in, in about twenty minutes.

With her head pointed down and her mind in a whole other world she walked straight into a man in the dark hallway. "I'm so sorry, are you alright?" She was momentarily stunned by the Australian accent. "Yes, I'm fine, I should have been looking where I was going." After overcoming her bashfulness she looked up, and was met with a sweet smile, only then did she acknowledge the hand on her waist, keeping her steady. "Are you sure, It seems quite hard to walk in those shoes." He said in a lower volume, looking her up and down. Only now was she able to take him in; His messy brown hair, unusually pale skin considering his accent and the tight navy blue t-shirt showing off his strong arms. She was so taken aback that her only reply to the question was a quick nod. "I'm Oscar by the way. I think we'll be working together at some point soon." She smiled finally gathering her things and straightening out her clothes. "It's nice to meet you Oscar." 

"I'm still pretty new around here, but I have a year of navigation experience on you so...Where are you trying to go?" He asked, taking the folder from her arms, trying to save her from carrying too much. "Board room two. I'm supposed to be meeting Christian to discuss my contract and well the logistics of working here." Oscar let out a quiet 'Ah', hooking his arm through hers. "It might help walking in the right direction." He gently laughed, turning around. Her face became warm as they walked. "Don't worry, my first day was a complete mess. I was locked out of the building, seriously late to my first meeting and I waited at the wrong set for about twenty-five minutes. So you're actually starting quite well." Her nerves eased slightly, she could tell Oscar wasn't a particularly chatty person but it was clear how hard her was trying to almost comfort her. "So where did you work before coming here, I'm sorry to say that I don't think I recognise you. Then again I'm not really a big viewer." He said almost shamefully, not realising before he started speaking that it could very easily be taken in an offensive way. "No, no it's okay. I didn't really work with a big company, I did more amateur and home-shot videos. I'm guessing you worked for another company before?" She was unsure as to why it was almost embarrassing that she made all her content on her own. "Yeah, I worked for a smaller company for quite a while actually. You must be pretty talented to make those videos on you're own, especially if it meant you've landed a spot here." Oscar spoke with a sense of excitement during the latter half of the sentence. She looked down as she spoke, entrusting Oscar with fully guiding her. "I now this place is one of the best, but why did you leave you're last company?" Oscar sighed just thinking about it. "I had almost no autonomy. There were certain things I wanted to do, not just because I enjoyed it, but because it makes for a good watch too. But they always shut me down with out even considering it." Oscar seemed genuinely sad about it, she quickly spoke up, questioning how awful that must have been. "Yeah, it was really annoying. But a lot of the videos were scripted like that corny rubbish with the awful acting you usually see with ads. That was the worst. Although you won't fully escape that here, that's one of Sebastian's favourites to film." He laughed at the end. 

"Oscar, stop boring the poor girl." She looked up to see Christian pen in hand standing outside of what she assumed to be bored room two. "Alright, alright I'll go." Oscar said smiling, passing her folder back. "Don't forget you have a scene wit Lando today." Christian shouted towards him. "I know, set room four." 

"Sorry about him." Christian said, guiding her into the room. "So I'm sure you've read the terms and conditions regarding pay and so on. But I do want to elaborate on what would be you're schedule with us. I'm aware and happy that you will continue to film and post you're own content in you're own hours. So here you will be filming a minimum of three videos a week, and a least one of them must be with another actor here, and a maximum of nine, Of course we do not expect or require you to reach that number. So dates, ideas, sets and time allocation need to be made at least three weeks in advance, four weeks if you require and permits or new equipment of any kind. In addition to this, you will be meeting the other actors today and you will be doing a scene with one of them next week. We will have an additional meeting regarding that and what we call a logistics meeting with the other actor to ensure everyone is on the same page." One of the main things she took away from that was how much Christian was able to talk with needing to take a breath, the other was how much work would actually go into this job. "Right, I'm happy with all of that." She spoke rather quietly. "Great. You will also be meeting a few members of the production team, mainly the camera and sound crew which Toto is in charge of." She nodded swiftly as he continued to explain how the company works and what would be happening in the future.

"So you will need to sign here...here...and here." She did so and looked back up waiting to be told what was happening next. "So you have you're own private room here, it's like an office with a bed and a wardrobe. You will be added to the schedule and as you now have your company email feel free to join in and ask questions when needed. So any last questions?" At this point she was feeling a tad overwhelmed but was happy with the outcome. "No, all is good." She spoke with a small smile, slowly standing up. "Wonderful. I'll see you on Tuesday for the next meeting." They shook hands before she left and as soon as she was out of the room and the door was close, she let out a particularly loud sign of relief. Only now did she realise how taxing this could be

She made quick work of finding her office, initially struggling with the key before placing all of her belongings on the desk. She sat down taking a deep breath deciding it would be best to log in and check what he schedule was for next week. Tuesday she had a meeting with all of the actors, directors and some members of the logistics team to discuss the increase in shooting hours for the next set of holidays and what ideas would be used for those videos. That same day she had a meeting with Christian and Charles about their scene on the 14th. She was more shocked than she should have been. Already she was supposed to be shooting, she didn't even know what he looked like and yet she needed to come up with an idea for the video, and be able to put into words what her limits actually were. Before there was no need to plan ahead so much. She could just put on a pretty outfit, turn on the camera and have fun. Now it felt all too much, as though it was more than a fun and paying pastime. She was quick to shoot up upon hearing the knock at the door. "It's just me." Oscar shouted through the door, opening it quickly before sitting down. "So, how was the meeting?" He asked, leaning in as close as possible. She didn't notice to start but Oscar was only wearing trousers and a robe, his blue shirt missing. "It was okay, pretty overwhelming, but good." She said, bringing her eyes back to the computer. 

"Since you want to know and wont ask, Lando gets pretty handsy sometimes, that's usually why I film with him last, or wait a few days to film with someone else. It not a territorial thing, he just likes to see the marks." He spoke softly as he stood up, pulling the robe off. His collar was covered in love bites and teeth marks, while his back was painted with scratches. "Oh wow." Oscar just laughed at her lack of filter. "It's not as bad as it looks, and he's not like this with everyone." He said, eyes closed as the robe began to cover his skin again. "Oh, so you get special treatment. I see how it is." She giggled, avoiding his eyes, scared he's begin to dislike her. "I wish...He doesn't really film with the guys much anymore, I am of course the exception."

He took a deep breath before making sure the door was closed. " Since we're both pretty new I'll fill you in with all the secrets. Lando gets attached very quickly, it's so easy for him to love. That makes him a great person, one of the best you'll ever be around. But that trait is bad in this industry. He joined five years ago, along with George and Alex, but they aren't important to the story. When you start, Usually you're paired with just once actor for a while. For him that was Carlos, and for a lack of a better term he pretty much fell in love with him, but not in a 'I want to date' way. It's complicated. After a few years Carlos left to go to another company for a while and Lando was completely distraught and well angry with Carlos." She was a little shocked that Oscar was so willing to tell her so much. Then again it didn't really affect him. "So Zak, the head of the logistic team, paired him up with Daniel for a while, thinking it would do him some good, they're pretty different, but in a good way." 

Oscar was hesitant to continue, checking his watch every now and then, but since he started he couldn't really stop. "Yet Lando resented him. Daniel didn't take it to heart, knowing the whole situation. He's been here for eight years longer than Lando so he's seen a lot and could tell Lando was struggling. I'll be honest Lando is a massive brat usually, so that coupled with the whole situation was a lot. It made some great content sure, but it was still difficult for every one around them. Long story short they began to get along and at some point Lando fell for Daniel, may I add, both times it wasn't completely one sided. But when things got pretty good for them, Daniel took a break from filming all together, it broke Lando all over again." She took a sharp inhale at the end, it sounded devastating just hearing about it, so she could only imagine how it felt. "So Lando decided he didn't want to film with any of the guys anymore. He started working on some more kink based content with different actors. But slowly he's been coming back. So when I joined last year he didn't want any thing to do with me. Not in a mean way, it was more like he was apprehensive. And of course Zak decided to pair us up and well, we've been filming with each other at least twice a week since." He said shrugging his shoulders, finally doing his robe up properly. "Oh wow that's a lot. Is he not worried you're going to leave him at some point? Not to be disrespectful to you, but surely that's a concern of his." She said as Oscar stood up, motioning for her to do so as well. "First, you need to get changed as Christian has instructed me to accompany you while you meet the rest of the actors, so I'm going to turn around, promise I wont peek." He laughed, checking his watch again. She was quick to start stripping of her clothes, reaching in her bag for some more comfortable attire. "Second, of course he worried, wouldn't you be? But we're adults about it so its usually okay. Now that you say that, that's probably the reason I'm covered in marks." He trailed off, shocked that he didn't think of it sooner. 

She placed her hands on his arms, turning him so they were face to face. "Is this okay?" She questioned looking down at what she was wearing. Oscars eyes followed hers, although stopped much sooner than she did, he couldn't help but stare, mainly at her tits as he could see all the way down her top. He may fuck on camera for most of the week, but he was no better than the average man. "You look perfect." He didn't know what was making him so bold, usually he's quite reserved, not particularly shy, just not talkative. He doesn't know what's gotten into him.

"Come on, it's getting late and it's kind of required that you meet everyone on your first day." They walked out the door and back into another relatively dark hallway, towards on of the many break rooms; Oscar was told to go to the second 'bed set' break room. "So, why'd you tell me all of that?" Oscar didn't expect her to ask him to explain his actions but it seems he really had no choice. "I care about him, so in a way it's just me looking out for him." She hummed with a smile. "If it wasn't me that told you, some else would have, its no real secret. Well the events were not a secret but Lando's true feelings and how bad he really was at the time is more of the secret." After Oscar's little rant she began wonder if they were actually together or if it was once again a two side love relationship without the relationship. "So who's the first one on you're calendar, and don't try to hide it. I know I'm on there but you wouldn't have been staring at that screen so intensely if I was the first." She sighed at his words, ever the observer he seemed to be. "Charles." Oscar was pleased with that, thinking there wouldn't be anyone better. "Actually that's really good for you. He's a lot more sensual and romantic so I believe that Zak thinks he's the safest option because you're content is just you getting off when ever you feel like it, not too focused on the production." He began, not realising he was rambling. "I thought you said you didn't know who I was." She huffed with a teasing tone, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well maybe I lied...Okay I looked you up when you were in that meeting." There was a long pause until they reached the door.

Chapter Two

[n3xii]

Pick a card ~ What's your archetype + your storyline

Hey guys, i wanted to do a reading that illustrates your current life situation through the lenses of archetypes and storytelling. today, you have three piles to choose from; your reading will tell you what archetype you are embodying at this moment and the specific storyline that may play out in the context of this archetype.

An archetype is a recurring symbol or motif throughout literature and media. it's the primordial mental image inherited from our ancestors that categorize people into vague ideas or concepts. According to Carl Jung, an estabkished psychologist and psychoanalyst, it's said that we all have a collective unconscious understanding of all these archetypes that we can tap into for various purposes. for example, if you've ever heard of the ''shadow self'' then you've already encountered a Jungian archetype, this archetype is meant to help us confront deeper, hidden parts of ourselves that we tucked away.

One single archetype may not describe you perfectly, as archetypes can be dynamic and ever becoming, so let this reading be a soundboard for your own personal understanding of who you are and where you're going.

heres info about getting a reading from me: services

PILE ONE

your archetype- the nine of pentacles ''the independent woman''

this card portrays the archetype of a feminine who is self-reliant, independent and enjoys their own company. you do not have to be a woman for this archetype to apply, as archetypes describe ideas and motifs, not specific genders. this archetype also exudes a sense of inner peace and contentment: a person who embodies this archetype knows how to find the beauty around them, they know they can rely on themselves to provide stability and success through their own hard work. this archetype values autonomy, aesthetics, hard work, and solitude.

Your story line- 7 of pentacles, the fool, 4 of swords, judgement

your storyline is fixated on patience and waiting, at this point in your life you may feel that you're in the phase of growth and harvesting your wealth and abundance all around. You may feel you're on the ''brink'' of something taking off, I feel that your purpose deals with your ability to grow and assess yourself for progress. I feel like you're in the part of the story where the protagonist is experiencing frustration, they feel like they have put in the work but have yet to see substantial results from what they have done. you feel that you put in the work, you should see that manifest in the real world. your archetype is being moved in the direction of taking a leap of faith, of trusting the process blindly even though they dont know whats going to happen. you're the protagonist who places more faith what they can see rather than what they can sense, you're frustrated because you want to see results in the physical instead of trusting that movement is already happening behind the scenes. for you, having faith is the recurring lesson and momentum of your storyline. the climax of your storyline is represented by the 4 of swords. the 4 of swords is regularly a mundane card of rest and reflection, but for you, this is the cultivating event that occurs. as the hardworking, independent, self-reliant archetype, learning to take a break and reflect on where you are internally instead of trying to make movement happen in the physical world will feel very disorienting. its not so hard for you to be in solitiude, but to take a breather from pursuing goals and action is the hard part, and that precisely what i see as the climax of your storyline. taking time to reflect on yourself and go within the avenues of your mind is the inciting event, taking a break from movement will harden your sotryline into place. The conclusion or resolution of your storyline is represented by the judgement card. i feel this is a realization, a revelation that awakens you on a spiritual level. the momentum behind your storyline was learning to have faith, to trust the process despite not seeing evidence in the physical world. so i feel the ultimate conclusion for your protagonist is a spiritual or philosophical awakening. you will reach a higher level of understanding that allows you to contextualize your growth beyond what you can see. you will achieve a revolutionary understanding of yourself and of your growth.

PILE TWO

your archetype- ace of wands, the element of fire/ the seed

ok, for this pile. you are not honed into one archetype but rather an energy, or potential. you're characterized by the element of fire and smoke, you're chronically at the start of something new and you're at the start of realizing your own light. you're seed at the root of life. to be specific, you're the archetype of someone who can't be placed in a box or tamed by one image or phrase because you simply the potential, the energic seed. you cant be conceptualized, and perhaps your experience a feeling directionless in your life because of this. as the element of fire you have the option to destroy or enlighten. you can impassion or burn. its up to you.

your storyline- justice, 8 of cups, 9 of swords, knight of cups

your storyline is characterized by fairness, equity and making big important decisions about your life path. as someone who is simply the archetype of fire, of raw potential, your storyline is to make a choice of where you want to go on your path. but this choice is an important one and dictates the course of your life. the lesson you ultimately learn as the protagonist is when to move on and release certain things. truth and integrity is something you strive for on a deeper level, so making fair, descions based on clairty is something you value, so I feel like on your path, you will encounter the choice to leave something behind or to detach emotionally many times. this will be very difficult for you, but this theme of choosing when to leave and when to detach will be a recurring theme throughout your life. learning what your path is and taking action to stay committed to this journey is the lesson. and this choice will be a Indepth process of weighing out the pros and cons, of trying to do the right thing thats fair to yourself and other's. the climax of your storyline is represented by the nine of swords. this will be a very mentally choatic or active climax, and it will involve extreme anxiety and overthinking. ultimately however, your resolution is represented by the knight of cups. learning to lead with your emotions and to trust your intuition will be the ultimate outcome for you as the protagonist. trusting yourself with your own emotions and going with your instincts when it comes to what your path should be is the direction you are going.

PILE THREE

your archetype- the page of swords - young messenger, the spy.

the page of swords is young, open minded, smart, alert and very curious about their environment. traditionally speaking, the page of swords has been associated with the archetype of the spy; someone who can adapt to their surroundings and gather information as quickly as they can pass it on. you dont spy on people per say, but you do watch and observe others, you may act as a intermediatory between people for their communication, you're curious about the world and new ideas spiral around your mind like little nats. You're the archetype off someone enjoys mental stimulation, and you know how to find that stimulation in unconventional ways or without needing to actively engage with others all the time. You're alert of you're surroundings, details matter to you and you notice things other people don't because they're not quiet enough to pick up on it. You're the archetype of someone in their mind alot, soneone who may overthink or over analyze

Your storyline- the devil, death, 3 of wands, page of wands

You're in a place right now where you feel bondaged, stuck or held back. You may feel that there's hierachal or manipulative forces at play that are creating a shadow over your life, you may feel like there's not a lot of room to move around and do what you want because of illusions of control. This is the part of the story where the protagonist feels like a victim to their circumstances and they don't know how to wiggle out of them. However, im seeing that the lesson here is represented by the death card, which means the lesson you're learning is transformation. You're learning to release what doesn't have power over, illusions, and stagnant situations throughout your life. Death is a very humbling thing, the only thing we can take with us in death is ourselves. When you die, everything you've worked for will be dirt, and all you have is the core of your being You're overall lesson in the story is to release all the bondages snd attachments to things that aren't really apart of who you are. The climax of your storyline is represented by the three of wands. This tells me that the peak of the story arch is you moving, going new places, exploring and expanding past your comfort zone. The climax here is you taking action and experincing conplete freedom, going past boundaries and seizing new territory. The illusions and restrictions you experience mentally correspond to you're enviroment, you're the archetype of someone who is mentally stimulated, so when your enviroment is dull, restrictive and grey, you also feel like what's possible for you to equally restrained. When you release bondages to your ego, illusions of control and allow transformation to occur naturally, you reach new horizons. And I feel you may initiate alot of transformation through moving and traveling. The conclusion to your story arc is that of the page of wands, the page of wands is someone young or new to their craft. They're trying new hobbies and interests. They're putting themselves out there to learn and grow through the action they take. It's interesting, because you start out as a very mental, mind oriented archetype but I think by the time you move through life you will be a completely different archetype. Most people will be but its emphasized very much in your reading. The transformation and lessons of cycles ending will be imperative to your life purpose. You will be action oriented as opposed to mind oriented, you will not let blockages hold you back in life.

[thef1diary]

Royally Fucked | Two

— Rekindled Autonomy

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

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Juliette walked briskly through the palace halls, her heels clicking against the marble floors. Daniel walked beside her, his pace matching hers effortlessly. Behind them, a few guards trailed, managing the carefully packed luggage for their trip.

“We’ll be departing in an hour,” Daniel began, his voice calm and steady. “The flight is approximately three hours. Once we arrive, we’ll head directly to the hotel where I’ve arranged for a private suite. Security measures will be put in place at all locations we’ll be visiting.”

Juliette nodded, noting the precision in his briefing. “And the charity event?” she asked.

“It’s scheduled for tomorrow evening. Today you’ll have time to rest or attend to any other matters. I’ve coordinated with local security to ensure seamless protection throughout our stay,” Daniel replied.

Juliette sighed, feeling the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her. The upcoming charity event was crucial, not just for her but for the entire kingdom. As the sole representative this year, all eyes would be on her, scrutinizing her every move. This heightened her unease about the sudden change in her routine, with Daniel replacing Oliver. If she had a few more days with Oliver, she would be at ease, having known him well. But now, with a new face and unfamiliar habits, she would have to adapt quickly to maintain her composure and fulfill her duties effectively.

As they continued walking, she couldn’t help but notice Daniel’s professional demeanor, despite her initial reservations about his cheerful personality. His efficiency and attention to detail were impressive, even in the short time she had spent with him. Though she remained cautious, she couldn’t deny his competence. For now, he had yet to make a mistake, and that gave her a small measure of reassurance.

Juliette cast a sidelong glance at Daniel. “You’re covered all bases, it seems,” she remarked.

“I aim to please, Your Highness,” Daniel responded with a bright grin.

As Juliette and Daniel made their way through the main palace doors towards the waiting convoy, she noticed the lineup of vehicles prepared for their departure. The primary car, sleek and black, awaited them at the forefront, accompanied by a second vehicle carrying additional security personnel. Behind them, a support vehicle handled their suitcases for the trip.

“Your ride awaits, Your Highness,” Daniel announced with a flair, opening the door to the primary car. With a slight bow, he ensured Juliette settled into the back seat before closing the door and taking his place behind the wheel.

As they pulled away from the palace, Juliette glanced out the window, the familiar sights of her home fading into the distance.

Daniel glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Is there anything you’d like to add to our itinerary, a place you’d like to explore?”

Juliette turned her gaze from the window to meet Daniel’s eyes in the rearview mirror. His gaze momentarily felt intrusive, especially with her mind focused on the upcoming event and little else, she felt like he could read her thoughts. She feigned thoughtful consideration of his question, lightly tapping her chin with a finger while avoiding direct eye contact.

Shaking her head gently, she replied, “not really. Let’s stick to business and back, that’s how it always is with Oliver. It’s risky going off-plan.”

She realized immediately that she hadn’t meant to compare Daniel to Oliver so directly, especially since Daniel had done nothing wrong as of yet. Glancing out the window again, she hoped her slip up hadn’t given him the wrong impression.

Daniel’s expression remained calm as he drove through the city streets, his focus on the road ahead. After a moment, he spoke, his voice gentle yet firm. “I understand your concerns, Your Royal Highness. Safety is important, but you know, I’m your bodyguard. It’s my job to worry about your safety, not yours. If there’s anything you want to explore while we’re there—or anywhere—please don’t hesitate to let me know. It’s my responsibility to find a way to do it safely.”

Juliette appreciated his reassurance, though she remained conflicted. Oliver’s approach had always been cautious and predictable, which kept her secure but somewhat stifled. Daniel’s openness to spontaneity was both refreshing and unnerving. Despite his words, she still wondered how she could navigate this newfound freedom without compromising her responsibilities or endangering herself.

As they approached a red light, Daniel turned to glance at Juliette, his gaze soft and understanding. “Your safety is my priority,” he affirmed, his tone unwavering. “I’ll keep you informed every step of the way so you’re never in the dark. But if you find yourself worrying about your safety with me by your side, then I’m not doing my job properly.”

He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips as he waited for Juliette’s reaction. “And one thing you should know about me, Your Highness,” he continued, his tone lightening slightly, “I always ensure I do my job well.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips despite her best efforts to maintain a composed demeanour. As they continued their journey, Juliette found herself pondering what else she might want to do, a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself to consider before. Thoughts of exploring new places, trying different things, and perhaps even visiting a quaint cafe she’d heard about, lingered in her mind. She remained lost in these musings for the rest of the car ride, the idea of Daniel as her bodyguard slowly growing more appealing.

Finally, they reached the airstrip. Daniel exited the car first, opening her door with a polite gesture. Juliette stepped onto the tarmac, the sleek polished exterior of the private jet gleaming in the sunlight. A set of stairs extended down to meet her, each step lined with plush carpeting. As she ascended, a gentle breeze passed through her hair, giving her a sense of serene anticipation.

At the top of the stairs, the flight crew greeted her with warm smiles and respectful bows. “Welcome aboard, Your Highness,” the lead flight attendant said, her voice courteous and professional. “Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your flight more comfortable.”

Juliette nodded graciously, feeling a touch of royal pride mixed with appreciation for their attentive service.

Inside, the plane was the epitome of luxury and exclusivity. Soft, cream-coloured leather seats lined the cabin, each one spacious enough to recline fully. The walls were adorned with subtle, elegant accents of gold and rich wood paneling. Overhead, soft lighting cast a warm glow, creating an ambiance of comfort and refinement.

As she settled into her seat, Juliette ran her hand over the armrest, feeling the smooth, supple leather beneath her fingers. In front of her, a small table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, ready for an in-flight meal. The air was lightly scented with a delicate floral fragrance, adding to the overall sense of opulence.

Daniel had entered the cabin behind her, giving her a reassuring nod before taking his seat nearby. Juliette felt a surge of excitement and a renewed sense of freedom, one she hadn’t realized she lacked until it was offered to her. She began to appreciate the subtle yet profound difference Daniel brought to her life.

─────────── ♛ ───────────

As the plane cruised smoothly through the sky, Juliette relaxed into the plush seat, savouring the luxury around her. The soft hum of the engines and the gentle sway of the cabin created a sense of calm. She glanced over at Daniel, his attention occasionally flicking to the view outside.

The conversation flowed easily between them, and Juliette found herself more comfortable than she had anticipated. She was surprised by how Daniel’s easygoing nature seemed to balance the formality she was used to.

“You seem awfully dressed up for a flight,” she teased, her tone light. “Aren’t you going to relax a bit? The king isn’t here to see you.”

Daniel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Even though the king appointed me to you, I work for you, so you tell me, Your Highness.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. “In that case, I suppose I could ask you to relax a bit. Surely, you’re not always on duty.”

Daniel's smile widened as he nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt and standing up. He unbuttoned his blazer and removed it, revealing a crisp white dress shirt beneath. As he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, Juliette’s gaze was drawn to the tattoos that were unveiled—delicate designs that hinted at a story beyond the palace. As he turned, his shirt clung slightly to his back, accentuating the subtle contours of his muscles, and the shoulder gun holster strapped above his shirt was an indication of his duty as a bodyguard.

She caught herself staring, her eyes lingering on how his shirt stretched over his shoulders and down to his defined arms as he turned to face her. Daniel noticed her gaze and with a playful glint in his eye, chose to sit in the seat right next to her.

“Is there something about my attire that’s caught your attention, Your Highness?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice.

Juliette quickly averted her gaze, a flush rising to her cheeks. “Just…assessing the level of professionalism,” she retorted, attempting to regain her composure.

He chuckled. “Well, I must say, your scrutiny is most flattering. But if you’re hoping for a less formal look, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until night falls and we’re in our hotel room.”

Juliette faked a gasp, her eyes widening in mock surprise. “Wait, did you actually pack something other than suits for this trip?”

Daniel grinned, leaning in slightly. “You caught me. I did manage to pack a few casual pieces. But let’s keep that between us, shall we?”

Her curiosity piqued, Juliette leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “So what’s the plan for these casual pieces? A secret mission off-duty?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, his tone matching hers. “Or maybe just for a quiet night where I’m not on high alert. You didn’t expect me to wear a suit to bed did you, Your Highness?”

Juliette smiled, the playful banter easing her nerves. “Touché, but I must say, the idea of seeing you out of your formal attire is intriguing.”

Daniel chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “I will keep that in mind. Speaking of secret missions, have you decided on where you want to go?”

She nodded, causing Daniel to spark up, leaning closer as he solely focused on her next words. “Ever since you mentioned charming the guards with pastries, I’ve been craving some myself. I’ve heard there’s a quaint little café in the city that’s supposed to have the best pastries. What do you think?”

“Pastries, huh?” Daniel’s smile widened. “I think that sounds like an excellent mission. We’ll make it our first stop once we land.”

Juliette blinked, momentarily surprised that he had actually agreed so readily. Quickly, she composed herself, adopting a more regal posture. “That’ll be great, thank you, Daniel,” she said, trying to mask the underlying excitement with a tone of practiced poise.

He nodded respectfully, yet his grin was unwavering. “Your wish is my command, Your Highness. Besides, a trip to a café sounds like the perfect way to start our adventure. And I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind trying those pastries myself.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to see if they live up to their reputation,” Juliette replied, her formal demeanour softening ever so slightly. She was trying to maintain the image of a composed princess, a role she perfected over the years. Yet, with Daniel, the anticipation of the simplest pleasures were difficult to conceal entirely.

As she looked out the window, watching the clouds drift by, Juliette found herself reflecting on how different this trip felt. It wasn’t really the café that excited her, but the newfound ability to choose where she wanted to go. She hadn’t realized how much she had been missing out on the simple joys of life until now.

As a princess, she was accustomed to making decisions, but they were always governed by the pressures of maintaining an image of poise, perfection, and adherence to strict safety protocols. Over time, she had lost sight of the fact that her choices were often not truly her own. The act of making a personal decision now almost felt foreign, a habit she believed had vanished under the weight of her controlled life. Daniel’s presence, his easygoing nature, and his genuine interest in her happiness were making her see things from a new perspective and slowly rekindling a sense of autonomy she hadn’t felt for years.

Juliette felt a flutter of excitement, looking forward to not just the destination but the journey itself.

As the plane began its descent, Juliette looked out the window. The vast landscape below slowly became more defined, the daylight bathing the city in a warm glow.

Once the plane had landed and taxied to a stop smoothly, the flight crew efficiently began preparing for disembarkation. Juliette stood, smoothing her dress while Daniel buttoned up his blazer, back in bodyguard mode.

They exited the cabin, stepping onto the tarmac where a sleek black Bentley awaited them. The vehicle’s glossy finish reflected the afternoon sun, emphasizing its luxurious appearance. An attendant approached Daniel, handing over the keys with a respectful nod.

Daniel took them with a grateful smile and moved to open the back door for Juliette. Before he could, she placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“I’d like to sit in the passenger seat if that’s okay,” she said, her eyes meeting his.

Daniel hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

With the flight crew quickly loading their luggage into the trunk, Juliette made her way to the front passenger seat and settled in. Daniel joined her in the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and starting the car.

When the engine roared to life, Juliette noticed Daniel’s smile, the rumble of the powerful vehicle palpable underneath them. She couldn’t help but comment on it with a smile tugging at her lips. “You seem very comfortable behind the wheel, do you like driving?”

Daniel’s grin widened, a gleam in his eyes. “Absolutely. I guess you could say I've got a passion for driving. Every time I start one up, I still get tingles.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Daniel continued, his hands deftly maneuvering the car as they pulled away from the tarmac. “I could probably drive with my eyes closed.”

She laughed softly. “I hope you don’t plan on trying that anytime soon.”

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Daniel replied, his tone playful. “I’ll keep my eyes wide open on duty.”

The cityscape began to unfold around them as they left the private jet behind, heading straight for the café she had mentioned. The car glided smoothly through the city streets, Daniel skillfully navigating the traffic with a blend of confidence and finesse.

Soon, they arrived at the quaint little café. Daniel parked the car smoothly, the powerful engine settling into a quiet purr before shutting off. They both stepped out, the enticing aroma of fresh pastries already wafting through the air.

Daniel conducted a quick scan of the surroundings, his professional instincts still at work. He subtly assessed the area for potential security concerns and ensured that the entrance was unobtrusive yet secure. He also mapped out any security cameras as well as any other possible threats. Once satisfied with his brief check, he glanced at Juliette, who was genuinely smiling while taking in a deep breath, savouring the moment.

When she glanced at him, he returned her smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Lead the way, Your Highness.”

Juliette led the way into the café, her excitement barely contained. The interior was as charming as the exterior suggested, with cozy seating, vintage décor, and an array of pastries displayed in an inviting glass case.

As they entered, a warm greeting from the café staff welcomed them. Juliette's eyes sparkled as she scanned the menu, her attention drawn to a selection of pastries she had heard about but never tried. Daniel, maintaining his usual demeanor, stayed close, his awareness subtly tuned to the environment even amidst the relaxed atmosphere.

Juliette turned to him with a grin. “So, what’s your recommendation? I’m open to anything you think is worth trying.”

Daniel chuckled, scanning the display of tempting treats. “I’d say we start with a few of their specialties. They’ve got a reputation for their éclairs and croissants. And I hear their hot chocolate is pretty excellent too.”

Juliette nodded enthusiastically, her gaze lingering on the pastries. As they approached the counter to place their order, Juliette couldn’t help but feel a sense of liberation. For once, she was making a simple choice without the constraints of royal duties or security protocols overshadowing her every move.

Daniel, meanwhile, kept an eye on the café’s patrons and the entrances, ensuring everything remained as secure as it should. His relaxed demeanor and focused attention balanced well, allowing Juliette to enjoy the moment fully.

With their order placed, they found a cozy table by the window. As they waited, Juliette couldn’t help but glance at Daniel, noting how effortlessly he combined professionalism with a genuine interest in her enjoyment.

Their conversation flowed easily as they chatted about their favorite pastries, their personal tastes, and even some light-hearted anecdotes. Juliette felt a rare sense of ease, her usual reserve melting away in the comfort of the café and Daniel’s company.

As they shared their treats, Daniel teased with a playful smile. “I told you, a little charm and a few pastries go a long way. Might even win you some hearts.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that what you plan on doing?”

He shrugged casually, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Once they finished their pastries, Juliette and Daniel returned to the car. The drive to the hotel was smooth, and soon they were pulling up to a luxurious, historic building that exuded elegance and charm. The grand entrance was adorned with polished marble and gold accents, and the hotel’s opulent façade glowed warmly in the late afternoon light.

Daniel parked the car and stepped out first, quickly arranging for their luggage to be unloaded by the hotel staff. He then opened the door for Juliette, his professional demeanor in place but with a subtle hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Juliette took a moment to admire the grandeur of the hotel before turning to Daniel. “Thank you for a wonderful start to the trip,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of genuine appreciation.

Daniel smiled, his eyes twinkling. “This is just the beginning, Your Highness.”

They entered the hotel together, the soft click of their footsteps echoing in the elegant lobby. The day promised new experiences, and as they approached the check-in desk, Juliette felt a rare sense of anticipation. It was a feeling she hadn’t indulged in for a long time, and it was one she was beginning to savour.

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NO TAGLIST

[invinciblerodent]

I can't WAIT to rub this under the noses of all who insist that Dorian is a "problematic" character, because at the beginning of Inquisition, he had a serious, but intentionally written character flaw informed by the culture he grew up in and the background he came from, which was also meant to highlight the majority opinion of those who share his general social group.

I just know there will be at least one person who calls this retconning, forgetting how

following that comment you're clearly supposed to get in the early game, he proceeds to approve of mostly instances in which someone's autonomy and freedom is respected or someone is granted mercy, and speaks openly against the control of the Qun,

is easily one of the kindest and most conventionally good-aligned characters in the game, being among the very few who bother to ask about the Inquisitor's wellbeing at any point, and

it was stated, I believe years ago now, that upon returning to the North he freed all the slaves he personally could (those in service of the Pavus estate), and then continued to work for the next ten years in the Magisterium to root out corruption within the Imperium, strongly implying that that "corruption" includes the institution of slavery.

Baby, that's not retconning, that's just a character arc, and a deeply unsubtle one at that.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters on Tumblr: Editing Posts

Yes, I'm back on my what-if-Cosmere-characters-had-tumblr brainrot! [Previously: Cosmere characters on tumblr, Cosmere characters' fav tumblr post]

This time, I'm thinking of those "edited" posts, like the ones compiled here. Times when the blogger realizes too late that their original post could be misconstrued, or had an awkward typo, or something like that. Nobody is above making/staging such posts. Not even the following characters...

1. Elhokar

I've been without my wit for too long :(

EDIT: EVERYONE SHUT UP IT'S THE NAME OF MY JESTER

2. Adolin

Just kicking back with a good book tonight! 

Edit: fashion folio fashion folio fashion folio I OBVIOUSLY don't know how to READ

3. Hrathen

For the record, Sarene is ever on my mind.

Edit: I meant never. Edit: stop reblogging this!

4. Tress

Sometimes I think, "maybe i was actually traumatized by the crow's song" but then i think "nah probably not"

Edit: i should specify that "crow's song" is the name of a ship i am not haunted forever by a bird's singing

5. Lezian

TO MY HATERS: I can fucking take Kaladin. I can take him all day and all night. I can take him and his whole squad. And ANYBODY WHO SAYS DIFFERENT IS A HATER

Edit: IN A FIGHT

6. Szeth

I don't miss much about home but I do miss that Shit cuisine

Edit: I meant "Shin"

7. Wax

i wish there was no autonomy in this world

edit: for those who don't know, "autonomy" is the name of an evil god. I am not anti free-will! 

8. Wax (again)

Sometimes I HATE harmony

edit: IT'S A GOD AGAIN

9. Kaladin

there was nothing more terrifying than sinking beneath that sea of balls

Edit: IN SHADESMAR

10. Moash

Trained in the lighteyes training ground. Got to hold a real shartblade. Magnificent.

Vasher: yes i can tell you def respect them Moash: ?  Moash: WAIT Skar: POOP TYPO POOP TYPO Moash: I MEANT SHARDBLADE

[retrieve-the-kraken]

So after taking some time to clear my head, and letting the wave of relief and closure wash over me, and feeling like someone literally unclogged my brain, I rewatched season 3 of Young Royals, but only finished just the night before I was going away for Easter weekend, so I didn’t have time to write anything.

But now I can finally say this: I liked it much better the second time.

And it wasn’t just the trepidation and anxiety that i had for finding out what happened in the end that kept me from completely enjoying it the first time. It was also that annoying week-long gap that we had to endure before watching the finale.

(I get that they did it for promotional purposes, and it was a lovely thing to be able to have that event for the final chapter, which obviously could only be one chapter, imagine having everyone there for the entire season, everyone watching for nearly six hours… no good.)

That gap, I feel, made it feel like we just landed randomly on an episode that was meant to tie up all the storylines. And of course it is, and of course it still feels that way in regards to some storylines, but wow, what a difference it makes to watch the whole thing as a whole, the way I’ve enjoyed the previous seasons.

I definitely could process it much better the second time around, watching calmly and carefully, and once I jumped straight from episode 5 into episode 6, it definitely felt more cohesive. It felt like it followed the same pattern as the previous seasons, the conflict at the end of episode 5 is very similar in every season, and it felt right.

And the final episode of each season seems to follow a very similar pattern too, except that it shifts a little each time as Wille gains autonomy. In Season 1, the climax was that Wille had to do what the crown said, on the crown’s terms (deny the video, keep August’s betrayal secret, lose Simon), because he didn’t know what else to do, he didn’t have a choice, sad ending. In season 2, he has to do what the crown says (do the speech, play the part of the Crown Prince), BUT he’s doing it on his own terms (telling the truth about the video, being with Simon, even if it means keeping August’s secret), he has somewhat of a choice, bittersweet ending. In season 3… well, it looks like he’s doing what the crown says still… and then he finally realizes that he does have a choice. Sad ending? Nej! He finally gets his happy ending. He has come to terms that the can have a choice.

The second time around, just when we thought we were getting yet another sad ending or bittersweet ending like the previous seasons, it shifted. Plot twist, he’s getting out of the car. Of course there is a lot up in the air (was your first thought also literally “but Wille, you left your bag in the car! You don’t have a toothbrush! You don’t have a phone charger! You don’t have clean underwear!” or are you normal? I am not normal, I have anxiety about things like that), there are many things that will still need to be resolved after the credits roll, but… it felt right.

And of course there are things that got tied up and still felt a bit quick, and things that felt annoyingly left up in the air, but that was precisely what happened each season, things that felt like maybe would get properly addressed the next season, but that’s not how life works. Not everything gets resolved. And it feels a little sadder or more bitter because we’re not getting another season.

But we are. It’s playing in our heads right now. People are writing fanfiction about it. And I can’t wait to absorb it all.

I’m definitely watching the whole season again, and doing a play-by-play analysis like I did for season 2, because I love hyperanalyzing every detail of this show.

Can I just preliminarily warn that I will be gushing about Edvin and Omar, and Nikita and Frida and Malte, so so much? Because the second time watching season 3, I was in awe, true awe, of how good they have all gotten. I mean, they’ve all been incredible from day one, but I feel like there were nuances to their characters this season that highlighted so much how incredible they all are. Particularly my babies, Edvin and Omar, deserve all the awards. Can’t wait to see everything they do.

I will miss them with all my soul. But I don’t have to let go of them yet.

[starqueensthings]

Episode 12 open discussion under the cut 👇🏼 BEWARE SPOILERS.

The loss of Crosshair’s helmet is so significant. The fact that he didn’t even bother to look for it, even more so.

The animators have always used helmets to represent a dichotomy. Pre Order-66, it was a symbol of a soldier’s individualism, as most troopers opted to paint their helmet to their liking; something to make them easily distinguishable from their brothers. Post Order-66, helmet-wear was used to signify the loss of a soldier’s autonomy. Yes, obviously for cranial protection as well (keep the melon safe during battle, you know), but once Order 66 was issued, aside from Batch members, seeing a clone trooper without their helmet on was a very rare sight.

In Season 1 Episode 1, Crosshair opted to keep his helmet on during the flight back to Kamino after Order-66 on Kaller, and through the halls of Tipoca city until they reached their barracks. I think the writers and animators were trying to symbolize that he had lost a large portion of his control.

Through the rest of the first season, Crosshair was largely hidden behind his new imperial helmet; one that was completely lacking resemblance or connection to his past as a member of CF-99. I think his Imp helmet was something that, at least in the beginning, he wore proudly; it was a symbol of his new role, his new rank, his future, his new ideology.

But in The Solitary Clone (S2 E3), after a poignant discussion with Cody, we see Crosshair look at his helmet with implied contempt, regret, and even possibly, repulsion. This was new.

In the first minutes of Season 2 Episode 12, we see him reprimanded by an imperial superior officer for not wearing it, which I found interesting. Keep in mind, Crosshair was also helmet-less when he met with Cody before their mission to Desix. Same scenario: waiting by the ship for a debrief from his commander before leaving for the mission. But this time, the writers opted to emphasize that his face was exposed.

Now, his helmet is completely gone. In a mission gone sour, it was eaten by an avalanche. And I found it very interesting that Crosshair’s first thought after emerging from the snow, was to find and save Mayday, a reg commander who he’d met only hours previously, and who took all of Crosshair’s imperial ideology and challenged it. He carefully puts Mayday’s helmet back on him, but doesn’t even spare a thought for his own.

In the final minutes of E12, we see Crosshair, and his face in all its glory, shoot his Lieutenant. An angry murder noodle move, yes... but also a desperate, frustrated one.

The presence of Imperial Crosshair feels diminished. The reemergence of Bad Batch Crosshair feels imminent.

*pls note that I used the term “reg” to reference Crosshair’s previous intolerance for regular clones, and was not meant in any derogatory sense*