#If anyone wants to fight me on this please go ahead i love to hear your thoughts

[vivysnights]

TW: NSFW, fem bodied reader, use of f*ck, smut, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, make up s*x, unhealthy dinamics (don't blame me Fyodor is a warning himself), possesive behaviour (if anyone treats you like that please run away) Fyodor might be ooc and whipped for the reader, teasing, both parts acting immature (communication is the key people), no use of y/n, breeding kink, After reading ep 117 please don't hate my pookiebear 😞

Word count: 6.6k (I don't know what came over me so enjoy)

Click here for part 1

✧₊⁺.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊⁺✧

Yeah, I want it all (from you)

Bye, bye, baby

Bye, bye, bye~

⁀➴

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Don't you know who you're dealing with?

Um, do you think you'll buy me lots of diamonds?

(Yes, of course I will my darling)

⋆⭒˚｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Blurring the lines between real and the fake

Dark and lonely, I need somebody to hold me

He will do very well

I can tell, I can tell

Keep me safe in his belltower hotel

He's loving my look

And I'm loving all his strategic ways

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Life was not easy—at least for you. Actually, the last few weeks have been a living hell. Well, the issue was your ex-husband. Fyodor. You tried everything you could to ignore him, but failed miserably. But why was he so stubborn and casual to the extent that it got on your nerves? Why, out of nowhere, was he talking to you about the weather and then suddenly asking you why you had eye bags? Or were you sleeping enough and well? Sometimes hiding your frustration was difficult. You nearly thought that he was doing all of it on purpose. That sneaky bastard. So, your day looked like this: go outside and accidentally run into your ex-husband, try to avoid him at all costs, hide, and fail miserably.

After that, go home and spend the entire day and night thinking about how to avoid seeing his face again. But he was appearing out of nowhere at the times when you least expected him. All of this was difficult because he was exceptionally smart and always a step ahead. And a little bit hot. He couldn't see your thoughts, right? If so, you would be in trouble. Because the last time he drove you into a corner, his body was so close to yours that you could hear nothing but your own heartbeat.

Also, the 'worst' part was how he touched you so softly, just like how you liked it. Like after your exhausting day at work, when the only thing you craved was nothing but his touch, and how you two only breathed in each other's presence while clinging to one another. But whatever it was, only remained in the past now. But the most absurd part was you getting nervous and not even making eye contact with him. Damn, why was it so hard? He shouldn't have any meaning to you or a place in your heart anymore. Look at him, already healed and living his life as if mocking you. So why did you feel so stuck and frustrated?

So you gave him indifferent answers like "Oh, I'm fine" or "Yeah, the weather is quite nice today. Isn't it, Mr. Dostoevsky?" Oh, so you knew how to push his buttons, didn't you? You naive doll. Reminding him of something that he didn't want to remember or even acknowledge was on his mind like a disease: the fact that you two were indeed divorced. That you weren't his—at least on paper. Well, what else could he expect? By staying by his side like the cute, clever thing you are, you've eventually learned a few tricks too, but who knew that you would be using them against him? But then he smiled....Oh, that smile that you adored...But why it felt rather cold?

So there you were trying to build up a wall between yourself and him, and there he was angry and in fight with his heart. And now the formality? Yes, it was laughable indeed. Of course, it was reasonable that you would not act...as you did before the divorce. It was normal, right? So he took a step back from you, smiled again, and said goodbye as if you were an old friend of his and like he was going to see you again.

And there you were, standing dumbfounded and trying to process everything while he was walking away from you like it was a normal encounter. Well, who knew what was going through his mind? Maybe he was up to some mischief? You didn't bother to think about it since your heart was beating abnormally fast.

But for now, seeing him wasn't the main problem because you had a wedding to attend—your friend's wedding. To be honest, you weren't the most excited person about this event. Maybe you've become numb to your feelings, or 'he' was just appearing from the darkest parts of your mind. Was it always like this? Even when he wasn't by your side, he was the only thing you could think about.

He didn't play some dirty tricks on you, did he? So, just to clear your mind, you put on your dress, apply your makeup, and get into the taxi in case it starts to rain on your way. It was a cloudy day. What lovely weather for a wedding, isn't it? The wedding was held in a luxurious place in the city. Affording a place that expensive must have been hard on them since they weren't that rich in the first place, which is none of your business, but going to places like that felt a little weird 'cause it only reminded you about those days you've wished to forget. After getting out of the taxi, gray clouds greeted you.

It was becoming clear that not bringing an umbrella with you was a bad idea. You began walking inside the building to take the elevator. A sigh left your lips. It felt like it was going to be a long night. It has been a long time since you went into a crowd like this. But it was refreshing to talk to old friends and have chats with people. It made you forget your worries and feel a little freer. The place was pleasant, just like how you liked it. You got some champagne and began slowly sipping. You promised yourself that you weren't going to drink more than one glass, so you were going to cherish this one glass of champagne well.

Your head hurt a little because of all the chatter and music. The lights weren't helping either. So you decided to get away from the crowd a little bit. Taking your only friend—a glass of champagne—with you to the nearest window close to the terrace, you looked outside briefly. Well, it was raining cats and dogs outside. Another sigh left your lips. The sound of raindrops falling down the window and the accompanying sound of thunder were putting your mind at ease, even just a little bit. At least it was distracting you from your thoughts. So you take another sip and try to come up with things that were nice about this place.

The place was to your liking, your friend was happy, you got your drink with you, and many people were there—many, many people, actually. It was crowded. Maybe if you stayed long enough, you got to eat a slice of cake. Many people you didn't even know greeted you, gave you compliments and kissed your hand as a compliment—a gesture to show their interest in you. Yes.....it was a wonderful wedding indeed. Your battery was low, so eating cake might make you feel a little better.

So you decided to take a slice for yourself. But as you passed through all these people with your remaining energy, one of them caught your attention. His back was turned to you, but you could tell who he was in an instant. He was a little far away from you, in a distant corner of the place. At first, you decided your brain was playing games with you, or maybe you were drunk, but your glass was only half empty. So you instantly took a turn on your heels and hurried in the opposite direction. Why in all of those people he was here? He wore a black suit, but he didn't have his jacket on.

He was holding it on his arm while his hands were in his pockets and talking to some businessmen that you were sure had enough money to buy an island on a random day because the city was too noisy for their liking. Also, the important thing here was that 'he' didn't even know the groom and wasn't that close to your friend to be invited to her wedding. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your palms were sweaty. Your only choice was getting out of here without him noticing you. Luckily, the bride was close to you, so you could just say goodbye to her and make up a story to leave early.

You exchange greetings with the bride and groom and try to keep the conversation as short as possible. The groom asks you if you like the place or not. So absentmindedly, you say yes, and the words coming out of his mouth make you lose your composure completely.

"Man, Dostoevsky surely has good taste. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't be able-"

The bride squeezes his arm and tells him to shut up. "W-what?" Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth after hearing his words.

But your friend just laughs nervously and tries to change the topic and starts to ask you questions about whether the cake is to your liking or not and other things that you can't comprehend at the moment. So you just murmur a short "goodbye" to both and start to walk away as if you didn't hear 'his' name coming out of the groom's mouth just a second ago. Your steps become faster as the seconds pass. With a still half-empty champagne glass you still hold in your hand that you forgot to put away, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of your high heels in the corridor that led to the elevator.

Seeing him at the wedding completely caught you off guard. What was he doing in a place like that? Also, when did he become that close to the groom to the extent that he helped him to afford a place this expensive? He wasn't the type to help someone he'd just met.

Oh......That sly man..... he knew you would come to this place so he could tease you until the end. Yes, that must be it, or you were just overreacting and he didn't care about you. Well, thinking about the latter made your heart swell. While thinking about these things, your fingertip met the buttons on the corridor for the elevator.

After pressing it, your fingers brushed against the skin on your neck and began to scratch it. It was an old habit of yours that you hated because it would give away the fact that you were anxious. Most of the time, you would make your skin bleed and hurt for weeks. To avoid this, you pressed the button again, as if pressing it repeatedly would make the elevator move faster. The sounds of the raindrops, the faint noises of the people, and the music could still be heard from the place that you were standing. That stupid glass of champagne was still in your hand.

The feeling to facepalm yourself was quite strong, but the sound of the elevator's door opening prevented that from happening. You entered quickly, pressed the button, and waited for the door to close inch by inch. The relief of being able to go home was spreading through your whole body. But— when the sliding door of the elevator was just about to close completely, a hand stopped that from happening. You held your breath because last-minute interruptions never signaled anything good for you—it was what you believed at least. The sliding door of the elevator revealed the person you wanted to see the last—it was none other than Fyodor.

He was there standing, one hand in his pocket, the other hand pushing the door of the elevator further to reveal your shocked figure. When your eyes met, your heart stopped, your breath hitched, and he was just standing, looking at you like he was devouring you, devouring your presence. None of you talked for a few seconds, and the only thing heard was a distant thunder in the background. Then he opened his mouth:

"Good evening, my dear. Running off when it is raining this much and with a drink in your hand is such a pleasant sight to see."

Yes, you could die from embarrassment right this moment. Not just you failed to run away but also looked stupid.

"Mr. Dostoevsky, good evening to you too. But I'm in a hurry, so—"

He raised one of his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly in amusement.

"Well, surely I can see that you are in a hurry. But dear, I don't quite understand the reason why."

Oh, how he liked to ask questions that he knew its answers to. He knew exactly why, but teasing you was much fun for him. Again, you weren't making eye contact with him and now playing with the hem of your dress to distract yourself from the fact that you were again, fell right into his plan. So you just turn your head to the side to avoid his question and give him the impression that he never asked you anything in the first place. Now his patience was running quite low. He spoiled you a lot didn't he? There is awkward silence that you can't stand, so you try to look at him from the corner of your eye without him noticing.

But when you do so, he is already staring at you with his deep purple eyes. His hand finds your chin in a quick but gentle touch and turns your head, so now your eyes are directly looking into his.

"My, my, you are not thinking of leaving when it is raining this much and it is also a shame that roads are closed too."

He steps into the elevator and casually presses a button inside. So now you are alone with him in the elevator and incredibly close to each other. Your plan failed with the doors of the elevator closing behind him.

"W-what are you doing?"

A chuckle leaves his lips as if you said something funny. His hand moves away from your chin as he steps aside; his warmth is now gone.

"Well, you are not planning to stay outside in this weather? Am I correct? There are rooms available for guests to stay the night. Aren't they very thoughtful? So I'm taking you to one, to rest for the night."

Oh, you weren't a step behind but several. But you were so sick, sick of all of this. His teasing and plans were too much for you to handle at this moment. Letting your emotions take the lead wasn't a wise decision; you were trying so hard not to. Elevator's door open and he steps outside and waits for you to come to his side, but you don't and stand on your heels. He was not going to let you get soaked and sick in this weather, or do something careless given your emotional state, so he takes your hand into his, even though he is only wrapping his hand around yours, and takes you to the so-called 'guest's room'. No words come through your mouth while your mind is screaming. You start to scratch your neck again. You want to hurt him, scream at him, and make him understand your feelings when he looks this comfortable. Your eyes start to fill with tears from frustration.

When he lets go of your hand and opens the door for you with a card that he's taken out of his pocket.

"My dearest, I wish you goodnight."

He takes that stupid champagne from you, and the things he makes leave you confused. He wraps his hand around your wrist that is scratching your skin and removes your gloves in a calm manner and puts them inside his pocket. Now, without your gloves that completed your outfit, you feel a little cold and a little bit vulnerable. He leans in slightly, taking your hand to his lips and kissing it before lifting his head and meeting your gaze. When your teary eyes meet his possessive ones, a chill runs down your spine. He squeezes your hand lightly.

Shit, even like that, he wants to ruin you. but fuck your eyes sparkling with tears just because of him makes him want to eat you whole so that nobody but only him could see you. That bastards who don't know their places putting their hands on yours so carelessly boils him with rage. They all should know that you only belong to him. So he continues to plant kisses on your hand, and now to your wrist. He sucks into your skin and licks it after to ease its pain so deliciously that it leaves you confused.

You don't understand why he is doing all of this. His soulless eyes, filled with darkness, only stare into yours as you free your hand from his. He turns and walks away, leaving you on the edge of the door. He is going to throw away those gloves that those filthy sinners' lips touched. He is beyond annoyed; no, he is going to burn those gloves first, then those foolish men later. Perhaps after that he will be satisfied. Your heart and mind were racing and your lips open to say the words that was going to make Fyodor stop in his tracks.

"Fyodor, I hope that my absence eats you whole."

He stops from thinking what to do to these men to comprehend your words. You wanted to hurt him, hurt his pride, and show him his own vulnerability. Well, actually, you did that. He wasn't planning to turn in his tracks according to his plan. But fuck, somehow when you were involved in his plans, they always seemed to crumble. A sound to show his dissatisfaction left his lips. He was just going to plant the seeds in your head to get you to come back. Then his plan would proceed. You're really something else.

He drank the remaining champagne in his hand in one sip, and his eyes staring to one point left to meet your back that was now turned to him. You were going inside the room in slow motion. His quick steps towards you and your quiet sobs were the only thing that could be heard beside the rain outside. With force now you were now inside the room and the door was closed shut behind you, but the shocking part was a sound of thud next to the console table and couple arms embracing you. His hand was encircling your waist and pressing your body into his further, not letting you go from his grasp.

His one hand now going upwards while caressing where he could reach, he held your chin and lifted it to meet your face now that was wet with tears. Why he always had to look like a madman when you were around?

"You have no idea what you do to me, don't you?"

His tone was cold, so was his eyes. Now you looking up to him with your doe eyes and the hitching of your breath with your sobs was a sight to see. There was no way he could let another man see you like this. How could he? He would break any hand that could reach to you and make them drown in their own blood.

"My love..."

He tucked your hair behind your ear, exposing your neck to him. He lowered his head to your neck, breathed in your scent gently and pressed a kiss to your pulse.

"My heart..."

You could hear your heartbeat. He moved slowly towards your ear.

"Don't worry your pretty head over everything. I will get all of it figured out for you."

Like he wasn't the main cause of all of this. Was he asking for forgiveness now? A loud sob escaped your lips.

" 'm tired" of you

His hair touching the side of your face and his voice near your ear made you feel weak in your legs.

"I know"

He let go of your chin and held your wrist, guiding your arm as you turned your face to him. Now that your face was turned to him, he could take a look at you properly. He missed your warmth, your gentle demeanor, and you. His hand moved from your wrist to your hand, guiding it to his lips before kissing the palm of your hand. His other hand found your waist and pressed your lower body against his again. Your free hand gripped the front of his suit. Your sobs are now louder. He was waiting, waiting for a hint for your forgiveness and acceptance. He wasn't going to force himself onto you; he wasn't a sinful man like that.

"If you allow me, my love, I will make it all work between us."

You were shocked and speechless. Was he really asking you to accept him back into your life? It was still raining outside; the room was nothing but ordinary—a king-sized bed with breathtaking scenery outside.

"Don't you see, sweetheart? All of it was just for you today. Put your trust in me once more, as you always do, and don't think anything else."

You knew better than anyone else that whenever he talked and promised something to you he would always kept them because well, you are his little sweetheart. Aren't you?

"You are still in my heart and always on my mind. You are no good for me. I know that too, but why I can't just let all of it go—"

With a swift motion, Fyodor leads you inside and toward the wall by releasing his grip on your wrist and putting his other hand behind your back to quickly wrap around your waist. He pressed your back completely to the wall while pressing his whole body into yours. And he kissed you feverishly, rough with a sense of claiming. Your head was spinning. He kissed, sucked, and bit your lower lip. It felt so good that you were falling apart under his touch. So you held him like your life depended on him, you held his neck, deepened the kiss, and leaned to him more with desperation.

You were running out of breath but couldn't stop kissing him. You returned his kiss with the same desire. You could feel heat building up in your stomach. A moan vibrated through your throat. His palm found the back of your thigh, grasped it, and lifted it to press further into you as he slowly rubbed his groin into yours. A groan escaped his lips. His hand rose higher and higher until it reached the hem of your dress and up to the curve of your ass and caressed, squeezed it with force. When you two pull away from each other, there was a string of saliva connecting you two. His body felt warm against yours.

He was going to make up to you in every way possible. He was going to worship your body tonight, just as he did every day when he got down on his knees to pray to God. You looked stunning like that, his angel, your hair a little tangled, your eyes hazy and filled with desire. Your lips briefly connected again, and he encouraged you to part them so that his tongue could enter and explore your mouth. Not feeling his skin under your touch was unbearable, so you started to loosen his tie and pull him more while your other hand tried to unbutton his vest and shirt. He smirked against your lips before parting for a second.

"Eager, are we?"

You blushed and glanced away from him just to meet his eyes a second later while slightly nodding.

"Mmph"

Fyodor cursed quietly in his native language. You were just so his and obedient it made his dick twitch in his pants. He pecked your lips again and began sucking on the skin of your neck, opening the zip in the back of your dress and causing it to fall to the floor. You wrapped your hand around his neck and massaged his head while breathing deeply. Quiet moans escaped your lips and it only made the bulge in his pants bigger.

His lips on your neck leaving marks, an evident sign that you were his, and licking just to bite after to make you whimper was delightful to his ears. Fyodor began to lead you to bed, holding you impossibly close to his body. The back of your leg hit the edge of the bed, and he laid you gently on it, his eyes dark with a glint of lust, he was nearly fully clothed, he looked at you with pure hunger while you were only in your underwear and bra.

"Myshka, you only wore that dress just to drive me mad with temptation, didn't you? Oh darling, even when you are not aware of it, your mind desires to please me."

That dress was his anniversary present to you; you never got to wear it, though, due to circumstances you don't want to remember right now. Maybe you picked that dress unknowingly or maybe on purpose. Who knows? He began unbuttoning the remaining buttons while looking down at you. Your panties were getting wetter by the second under his gaze.

"So now tell me."

He slowly took off his vent and tossed it aside while maintaining eye contact.

"Did any man lay their hands on you while you weren't by my side?"

He was teasing you; you knew it, and he knew it well too. You couldn't just let any man touch you, no.

"Took of your bra."

So your hands moved to your back to remove your bra. He was staring at you intensely, his hands on the sides of your thighs, stroking them gently. When you took it off, he let out a pleasant hum. When your hands reached the ends of your panties, he stopped you with his voice.

"Keep them on, darling."

Fyodor began to unbutton his shirt and tossed it aside. His pale, lean, yet muscular skin was visible. The bulge in his pants is evident to your eyes. He leaned in while putting his body between your legs, parting them further.

"My eyes are up here pretty."

He loved teasing you and making you a blushing mess.

"Now tell me, did they touch you here?"

He kissed your clavicle tenderly and bit just to get a reaction out of you. A gasp escaped you.

"N-no" He licked it and continued to leave kisses alongside your breast, just to stop and look into your needy eyes once again. He leaned in and bit your earlobe before whispering into your ear.

"How about here?"

His hand cupped your breast and gave it a light squeeze. A sigh escaped you.

"N-never"

A hum vibrated through your ear.

"Yeah, just like that, keep being my good girl."

He leaned to take your nipple inside his mouth and giving it a light suck, his hot tongue was sucking the bud while playing with your other nipple, rolling it between his fingers to not neglect it.

He left marks there too. Your moans grew louder; your hand grabbed and tugged his dark hair, earning a growl from him. He continued kissing your skin down to your belly, your back arching into his touch. Your underwear was damp with your wetness, and your pussy was aching with the desire to be filled. Fyodor kept you steady with his hands to stop you from closing your legs against his body.

"Myshka, behave" It was impossible since it had been so long since you felt this way.

"'M sorry."

He lowered himself to lick a long strand of your clothed heatness. Your breathing quickened, and your hand closed your mouth to muffle your moans.

Fyodor looked up to you and sucked the fabric and started to push his tongue against your clit earning more whines from you. God, you were beautiful and all his to ruin. He could feel your hole twitching and your panty getting soaked with your juices.

His hand found the hem of your panties and waited for you to look at him.

"Then what about here, darling?"

You were desperate and craving for him; your answer didn't disappoint him.

"N-no Fyodor, never!"

His name spilling out of your mouth so deliciously made his member twitch in anticipation. So before he took it off, he prevented you from closing your mouth by taking one of your hands into his.

Then he took it off in one smooth movement, your juices glistening, your hole twitching with want, he hummed and buried himself between your legs, licking and kissing your pussy with fever. His nose bumping against your clit made you moan loudly. His face between your heat, his tongue working skillfully to tease your nerve endings, his lips kissing and slurping your arousal with sinful noises were starting to get you to the edge. Your free hand gripped his hair to make him go faster.

"A-ahh"

His other hand, keeping you down, opened your thighs even more. Your sounds only made his pants tighter. Fyodor started to move faster; your taste only made him hungrier; his hand on your thigh now started to caress your walls to find the spot that made you see stars. He began stretching you by adding a second finger, while his tongue lapped at your wet folds. He stretched you with his fingers, and he couldn't help but let a moan escape. All sensations were becoming overwhelming, and Fyodor felt your walls clench around his fingers.

"M-mh n-nnagh F-Fyo I-I'm-"

He knew you were close, so he found the spot that made you weak, bent, and rubbed his fingers to stimulate it continuously. You pulled his hair harder and desperately tried to move your hips against his face with need. You heard him groan; he added another finger, and you were beyond gone, cumming andcrushing down while moaning loudly. Your body squirmed as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You felt dizzy and gasped for air as your juices dripped down his chin. The sight was filthy and hot at the same time. He gathered your juices in his fingers, sucked on them with lust, and looked deeply into your eyes. The sight caused you to moan again.

"You taste divine, my dear."

Then he started kissing you with the same lust, tasting yourself on his tongue made you squirm again. Your hands caressed his back and you kissed him back. He lowered his groin and pressed it into your wet pussy, making you whimper into his mouth while grinding his rock hard member against you. He placed his hands on your hips to make you grind against him harder, earning a muffled moan from you. The heat pooling in your stomach once again, making the front of his pants wet with your juices, you hear him moan into your lips. Fyodor moves away from you, his belt clinking. He looks at you like he's about to devour you whole.

So you accept him once again. He takes his pants off alongside his boxers, revealing his cock, his tip dripping with precum. First, he makes you comfortable on the bed and puts your legs to his sides, revealing your pussy to him more, his behavior turning you on more and more. Your sight sends shivers down his spine, and he has to restrain himself from taking you right here and there. Your sweaty form, lustful eyes, and eagerness are only fueling the fire. He pulls you closer to him, making your legs wrap around his waist. He strokes himself a few times before looking back at you. Your walls are clenching around nothing and feeling empty.

He uses his tip to gather around your fluids to lubricate his dick then slowly circling your entrance with it while pulling cute noises from you.

"F-fyodor, please don't tease me anymore."

He chuckles coldly.

"What happened to Oh, Mr. Dostoevsky, hmm?"

He slowly pushes himself. A gasp leaves you, your walls sucking him in for more, leaving Fyodor nearly breathless, he growls.

"Mmph- Aah-ah—that—you know why."

He's halfway through, and your warmth is already intoxicating.

"Well do I?"

He was not foolish or sinful like those around him. He had a greater purpose. But now he was kneeling and worshipping your body. Maybe loving someone only led to sin in the best ways possible. You couldn't let him go; you know it is toxic. But damnit, he lets it happen. He spoiled you too much, didn't he? Now he can't predict anything—any emotions, to be precise. These are his feelings, but he is unable to understand or rationalize them. It irritates him if he can't control it or twist it to his liking. Oh, God, help his pure soul. He pushes himself all the way in one go, taking you by surprise with a whimper. Leaning down into you, he pushes you down into missionary, his elbows on the sides of your head, slowly pulling his cock in and out of you as your moans got louder.

He is in no better shape, but he was trying not to show it while gasping for air. Your gummy walls squeezing him tight and already milking him, your whines close to his ear making it hard for him to keep his composure. He starts moving faster, hitting your G spot along the way. Your hands on his back, scratching his pale skin, and your legs pulling him closer only feeding his possession more. He gazes into your eyes, thrusting faster and rougher. Your eyes were cloudy just like the weather and now they were tearing up, but this time with pleasure. You look back at him, your resentful eyes only turning him on more.

Oh, how he loves those eyes of yours. Picking up the pace, he leans in and puts more weight on you. While panting for more air, he thrusts one more time and places his lips near your chin and whispers:

"Myshka isn't my side of the bed cold? Don't you want me to come back to you?"

Your legs tightening and trembling around him, you couldn't see his face but only could hear the squelching sounds from where you two were connected and your moans with the sound of rain. A white ring was forming in the base of his cock while you were meeting his thrust feverently. As he sinks deeper into you, you could feel your climax approaching. Your mind clouded with pleasure, you answer him.

"Fuck Fedya, yes!"

Yes, yes, yes, call him like that again and fuck yes, he will destroy the world if you want. Yes, he will buy you a house fuck even with the one with a lake. Then again, he will fuck you as much as you want him to. Who exactly is he fooling? He is yours eternally, just as you are his for a lifetime. God must have been playing games with his mind. Oh, your eyes and how they look under the moonlight. Oh, how he likes it even more when they get all shimmery with tears all because of him. Since he is the only one who can bring heaven to you with such pleasure. All his, all fucking his.

That nickname, his name, coming out of your mouth only makes his dick harder and balls tighter. Chasing his own high with you, he speeds up and places his thumb on your clit, playing with it to push you over the edge. Thick tears making their way down to your face to his hair. He raises his head and with his thick Russian accent, he curses between his teeth once again.

"I gave you what you have wanted, didn't I, darling? So why are you crying right now? How petty."

Such simple and heartbreaking words coming out of his mouth as if he isn't the one who is actually acting petty. How laughable isn't it? But he can't let you see him this vulnerable. The knot in your lower belly threatening to snap anytime makes you desperate for your own release.

"You gotta use your words, pretty."

"I-I'm- aghhh- I'm coming."

Your toes curling, juices drenching the sheets, holding him close with your legs, your climax washes over your body once again. Your gummy walls clamping down on his shaft and welcoming him once more. He groans and pushes you into the mating press and chases his own high. He captures your lips once again and gives you a deep but sloppy kiss while pushing your legs more apart. If he fucks a baby into you, you wouldn't try to run away, right? Since you would carry the obvious sign that you belonged to him. So those trashy guys won't dare to lay their filthy hands on you ever again.

If they do, he will erase them from existence. He moans to your lips, the thought of you carrying his child, with full of his seed, pushing him over the edge as he thrusts again, spilling thick robs of cum inside you, his eyes rolling back. He pushes his dick deeper into you, ensuring that nothing goes to waste. You whimper and kiss him back as tears fall once more, this time from overstimulation. When he recovers from his high, he pulls his dick out and rolls to the side.

Gently pulling you into a hug to his chest, facing him, you hug him back and kiss his Adam's apple softly. You felt tired and sleepy; for a few minutes, you two just stayed like that.

"So Mrs. Dostoevsky want me to draw a warm bath for you?"

You were flushed and slowly drifting off to sleep. The only thing you could mutter was a quiet "mmhm" and a slight tilt of your head.

Rain was still hitting the windows, as if it was trying to sing you a lullaby. The last thing you heard before falling asleep was a faint chuckle, followed by a couple of arms wrapping around your body, enveloping you in a familiar warmth.

Well, you were gonna come back to him one way or another. He knew that; he was sure of it, of course, since he is smart, right? When you come back to him and accept his vulnerability, once again he will let it happen because you are his. He can't predict what will happen in the future with you because God must have created such a bond that even after everything, you are still drawn to him, and he will always accept his pure girl to his hell and cherish ruin his angel. He can't create heaven nor go to one, but he will do everything to bring one to you.

But now Fyodor wasn't sleeping, but rather watching how your little body was wrapped around his—all vulnerable and untainted—to his liking, of course. He squeezed your body slightly in a possessive manner, pressing his body deeper into yours. He will make all the ways back to him for you. He was going to make it happen. So you could return to him. Because you're his innocent wife. How foolish of you to believe that a simple piece of paper could end your relationship with him. He was certain that God created you specifically for him to hold, caress, and breed. Everything happened only so you could return to where you belong, as God intended.

A few disagreements aren't the problem when you are in his arms like this, being all beautiful and innocent. How pure and filthy, how separating and unifying. Even God had his favorites, so it is normal that you also have a little privilege for yourself. How magnificent, right?

Because you are still his, and always will be. He will make sure of it.

Taglist: @sssarrrra @fyology @literatureloverx

So just for you guys to know I’ve never touched a man in my life. I didn't even feel anything romantic towards someone but here I am writing fanfiction about a death author dude who is probably +500 years old in an anime and I'm calling him bbg and the love of my life. Huh 😮‍💨 life is really full of surprises. It was my first time writing smut so please be nice I tried my best okay? 🥺🙏 Also English is not my first language so if there are any grammatical mistakes forgive this pookie (me🥺). Hope you like it tho. Comments, reblogs are greatly appreciated 💜

[mactavishsgfandwife]

saw that ur reqs r open, and i love all ur work sooo here i am lol

what would the tf141 boys be like w a reader who’s into horror? (i was thinking reader is like rlly sweet but loves playing horror video games or smth, but u can interpret it however u want!)

i can js imagine johnny freaking out when he sees reader playing like,,silent hill or smth. or resident evil 7 (can u tell im a horror game nerd lol)

but yeah! js a silly little idea i had, feel free not to write it if u don’t want to! have a good day, ily!

TF141 Watching a Horror Movie With You 🎃

hi omg this is such a cute concept!! thank you so much for the support, you have no idea how much i appreciate it! i have so many ideas for them with someone who loves horror movies so that’s what this post is about (i hope that’s ok :( ) but i’ll try to write about horror games another time because that’s such a cute concept! i just have lots of ideas for this one rn so i thought i’d do it first female reader, fluff, not proofread <3

Simon "Ghost" Riley thinks it’s cute that you love horror movies. He spends half his life in a real-life horror, he’s seen things that you could never imagine. Teasingly calls you a ‘psycho’ for just sitting there happily, cuddled up to him as you watch something absolutely terrifying go down on the screen.

Simon is a pain in the ass to watch certain horror movies with, because if guns or fighting are involved then he will make sure to point out to you exactly what the directors got wrong.

"He’s holding it wrong… if I even… Price’d never let me hear t’end of it," he mumbles, not talking to anyone in particular.

When you cuddle on the sofa, if you’re laying face down on his chest, he loves to keep one hand on your ass. Sometimes, if something does make him jump, he’ll squeeze it out of instinct.

People don’t usually expect it but you’re very good with scary stuff, you rarely ever get spooked out. But sometimes you do, especially if you’re tired and it’s late.

Once, after you’d watched a film, you went to get ready for bed and Simon went ‘to eat something’. Even when you were all changed and ready for bed, he still hadn’t returned, and so - twiddling your fingers together for reassurance - you peeked out into the darkened hallway.

Only for a 6'4" soldier in a skull mask, wielding a cup of tea, to jump out at you from behind.

You screamed, stumbling back in a state of panicked confusion, about to cry out for Simon when you came to your senses and realised that the masked intruder was Simon.

He stood there, laughing his ass off, until he realised that you were obviously very on edge and a little bit teary eyed.

"C’mere…" he sighed, placing down his tea to take you into his arms, "i’m sorry, baby girl, please don’t cry…" Your heart was racing and you were debating whether or not to slap him, but you knew he didn’t mean to upset you. And you were happy so long as he made up for it.

Soap Mactavish claims that he’s not scared of anything. Nooo, no way, he’s not scared. He’s so not scared that he’s looking away and squeezing your hand.

Poor guy is so easily jumpscared, it makes you giggle.

"You sure this i’nt going t’be too scary for you, bonnie?" he coos, placing an arm around your shoulder as he half-watches the film that has plunged into a strange silence. He’s definitely trying (and failing) to be subtle as he flexed his muscular arms a little bit, in an attempt to show off.

"Oh yeah, don’t worry," you nod sweetly, smiling up at him.

"I’m just saying, angel, if you need to bury your head into my chest, or if you can’t look, then that’s okay, you just go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’m a soldier, I could easily take on any- Shit! Fucking hell!" he jumps, squealing and then clearing his throat in a poor attempt to disguise it.

"You sure this isn’t going to be too scary for you, bonnie baby..?" you tease, kissing his cheek.

"Lay off it," he pouts, blushing a little bit as he nuzzles his face into your hair.

Alsoooo Johnny is a fiend for feeling you up when you’re watching a film together. He sees it as a perfect opportunity to get to know his pretty lass a little bit better.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick’s favourite part of movie night is the food. He loves takeaway (he’s definitely a Nando’s lover) but his absolute favourite food is your home cooking. When he was asked his favourite food when he was younger, he was always the one kid who would say "whatever my mum makes!" and now he’s an adult it’s just the same, but "whatever my girlfriend makes!" Whenever he realises you’re going to watch a film, whether you invited him or not, he will call out to you from the other room to "HOLD ON!" as he grabs snacks and drinks for the two of you.

Gaz isn’t too easily creeped out, but it happens. He’ll never admit that it’s because he was scared, but you’ve definitely noticed him ‘accidentally’ leaving the hallway light on. If it wasn’t an ‘accident’, then he obviously did it so that you wouldn’t feel scared in the night. He probably realises that you can see right through him, but you always say you believe him, just to make him feel better.

Kyle’s favourite horror movie series is Paranormal Activity, because it’s a so-bad-it’s-good kind of thing. He loves sitting in bed, eating popcorn, with you in his lap, laughing til you cry at all his jokes about how horrendously made the films are. Once, he was taking the piss out of how bad the film you were watching was and then immediately got jumpscared. He even let out a weird noise in shock - he didn’t hear the end of it for weeks.

Even if he’s not cuddling you as close as possible, Gaz loves to rouch you, usually by holding you with one arm as you rest your head on his shoulder. He is a serial thigh-squeezer.

John Price is a total dad, and that extends to when you can convince him to watch one of your favourite films with you. He wants to watch the movie, it’s not his fault if he falls asleep 15 minutes in every single time.

He lets you lay on his broad chest, that’s warm and rises and fall under your head, while he rests his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. He’s prone to snoring, too - in past, you’ve had to rewind the film because you missed part of it while you were trying to get him to wake up and shut up. The only sureproof way to wake him up is to try and move off of him - he’ll open one eye and grumble at you, as he pulls you right back into him.

"You’re not even watching the film, you’re asleep…" you whine, looking up at him.

"’M watching, love. Shhh," he mumbles, eyes still closed as he softly pats your hair.

"Are not," you pout.

"Shhh. ‘M trying to watch this," he hushes you, eyes closed and totally ready to go back to sleep. You’re almost annoyed at him but he makes that very hard, breathing softly through that moustache as he presses you against him, like you’re a teddy or a weighted blanket.

In terms of the films himself, Price isn’t easily scared (partly helped by the fact that he spends half of the time asleep). The first time that you two watched something scary together, he was almost expecting you to be terrified, but he was pleasantly surprised when you weren’t. He thinks it’s funny how you can sit in his lap perfectly happy and watch something that would have any ‘sensible’ (as he puts it) girl screaming.

He either gets very irritated by the main characters making terrible decisions and getting themselves into trouble, or finds it hilarious. He also loves to rub your feet while you watch the movie, literal princess treatment.

i kind of want to watch a horror movie nowwww

all pictures are from the game or from pinterest as far as i’m aware

i hope this was ok for you!!! i know it’s not exactly what you wanted but maybe we can just consider it part 1 of the horror obsessed reader saga >:)

masterlist

[mbsneur]

You‘re still the best

Cata Coll x Reader

Summary: cata lost against brazil

Warnings: angst

My Masterlist

please read this text before going to the story don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

(its a very short one)

your girlfriend missed out on the fight for the gold medal because of her mistakes

your heart stops you can't bear to see your girlfriend like this she runs off the field crying and takes all the blame for it

her little heart breaks into a thousand pieces it was her greatest wish to win this gold medal

a ball through her legs

a penalty because of her

an own goal

almost a fight

she didn't want to talk to anyone from her team her pained eyes you see in the stands and her tear-filled eyes meet yours

she looks at you and her look tells you that she is sorry she would apologise to you for everything although she has no compulsion to do so it will take her a huge effort to come into your presence

she runs into the changing rooms and can't bear to look at you again

you go down to the railing and wave laia over to you she also cries and comes over to you in displeasure

"can you please just give cata a big hug and tell her i'll wait outside the hotel please" you say and feel all your blood rush to your head and your eyes glaze over

"of course" tears roll down her cheeks and she tries to give you a little smile

none of the girls will shower there now they will all go to their nearby hotel to be by themselves and shower alone to rinse off all the pain

you take your bag and run to the exit to intercept cata as quickly as possible the way out was a torture everywhere people pushing each other and spanish people arguing with brazillians and a lot off drunk people

you've been waiting for her outside for a long time you stand around fidgeting and see the first spanish women coming out some of them hug you or give you a nice smile

until you see your friend she is still crying she comes running towards you and you try to take her in your arms by touching her shoulder but she pulls away from you

"let's go i have to take a shower" she says, wiping a few tears from her face

she runs ahead and you run tenaciously behind her she must be so hurt that she doesn't even want to give you a hug

you haven't exchanged a word all the way her body looks weak she opens the door to the room and pulls her jersey over her head and throws it in the corner her shoes find their place there too

cata's broken injured body is now on full display for you you slide up to her and place your hands gently on her shoulder blades and give her little kisses on the edges of her sports bras she relaxes into the kiss until she shrugs her shoulders and pushes you away from her

she turns around abruptly your body jerks and startles "can you just stop touching me" she says angrily and almost screaming you cross your arms embarrassed and take a step back she looks at you painfully and without saying anything else she disappears into the bathroom and locks the door behind her

slowly your tears are coming out that have been stuck inside you all evening cata has never been like this to you she has always met you with love

you crawl into bed and your feelings take over your thoughts go crazy and you hear your girlfriend swearing in the bathroom

//

an hour has passed and you mumble to yourself quietly the door of the bathroom opens and cata comes back in an oversized t-shirt and her boxers she is still crying " lo- lo siento amor" she says and tears stream down her cheeks

you sit up slightly and pull the blanket off your legs and nod to her your cheeks are blood red and burning from all your tears cata comes closer and her whole body lies firmly on top of you

you gently stroke her hairline and press her head firmly against your neck "it's okay i understand your pain it's okay" you tell her tearfully and her hands squeeze your body tighter

"i shouldn't have treated you like that i didn't appreciate you you're the only one who can take away my pain " she says and sobs

"it will get better you know how much I love you and that I will never let you fall" you say understandingly

"Will you promise me?" she asks, looking at you slightly

you have never seen cata so vulnerable she was always the strong one of the two of you "i promise you i will fix you and stay your home forever"

cata kisses your neckline lightly "you're still the best" you say with a slight grin

[motthe]

I’ve been going through your fics and absolutely fell in love with your Lumen AU! It suck a sweet take on the whole soulmate concept.

It got me thinking about Vander tho especially with season 2 now out and everything going on (I am mourning). So I was wondering if I could request any thing fem!reader and Vander related in your Lumen Au. First meeting, the before and aftermath of his encounter with Silco, season 2 revelations, literally anything you could think of writing!

Vander has grown on me just like Silco. God, i love that man!!! also sorry if the lumens kinda fade into the background in this!!! hope you enjoy it!!!

warnings: war, death, loss

Vander stumbled across you after the Last Drop was established. You both were young, determined souls—you looking for another job after taking another a shiner at the local strip joint, him becoming the Hound of the Underground.

When your lumens danced around one another, he wasn’t sure how much happier a man could get. That warm auburn against steel blue was everything he’d dreamed of.

Felicia adored you. Silco thought you too soft for the cause but never doubted you were the right fit for Vander. Soft was one word for you, but you sure as hell weren’t weak. You knew how to toss a rowdy customer out on their ass if Vander was preoccupied.

He may have been the Hound, but you were a fox in your own right, holding your strength for the right time and outsmarting the rest.

“I suppose that’s as good an image as any,” you chuckled, lying on his chest one night and picking at his stubble. “I don’t see you as a hound, though.”

“No?” he hummed as you shook your head, pecking his lips.

“You’re a big bear of a man,” you teased, lumens bouncing off the bottoms of your feet as you kicked them behind you at a lazy pace. “My grizzly.”

He chuckled, large hands smoothing up your waist until they’re cupping your face. You looked pleased, content. He wished the moment would stay.

“Don’t,” you murmured, leaning deeper into his touch. “You’re going too far ahead. Stay here.”

“I’m here,” he promised, chest aching as your eyes gleamed. You hid away in his chest as he held you.

That day came no matter how in the moment you tried to stay. You remained at the Last Drop with some others, a safe haven for the kids of those who were going to fight.

“Come back to me,” you told him in the doorway, hand on his shirt collar. The words slipped through gritted teeth as you held back tears and anger. You understood the cause, but you’d never risk anything if it meant losing him. It’s the one thing you disagreed on. “You fucking come back or I’ll redecorate every crevice of this place into something you’ll hate.”

“I’d let you anyway,” he murmured, pecking your cheek. The stone mask you were wearing cracked as you shoved him away.

“Screw you,” you whispered. “Dying doesn’t make you a hero, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said, nudging your chin up. “Be safe. Love ya.”

Your nose flared as you crossed your arms, eyes watering. His lumen ruffled your hair as he forced a smile and turned to follow the rest heading to the front. Lumens floated above heads and clung to shoulders. Yours was no different, perched on his left.

He wasn’t a block away when he heard those quick feet behind him and swiveled just in time to catch you in his arms. He felt the tears against his neck as you hugged the breath out of him, body trembling.

“I love you,” you sobbed. “You show those topsiders what’s for.”

He held you so tight your feet no longer touched the ground. There would never be another man alive that could hold you like that and there never would be anyone else you’d want to.

.

The return was torture. You had injured drifting outside the bar, those that had stayed behind doing their damndest to keep them alive. You’d already seen too many lumen crumble to dust tonight, too many cries echo throughout the night.

You held Vander’s against your heart, praying. Begging.

When you’d gone to help, Powder and Violet had slipped out of your periphery. No one could point you in their direction and you were blubbering mess until a familiar frame emerged from the outskirts.

Vander was worse for wear, but his strength remained as he carried the girls all the way back to the Last Drop.

All it had taken was one look from him to know the conclusion.

“They’re just babies,” you whispered, teary-eyed as your fingers drifted through Powder’s hair. She was conked out on your chest, wrapped up in a blanket like her sister next to you. Their hair was still damp from the bath. Neither had said a word but the crying came and went. “She should’ve stayed with me. I told her to stay.”

You’d fought with Felicia almost as much as Vander. Vander and Silco had begun the cause with her help, but she wasn’t needed on the front like they were. She didn’t have to be there, but she chose to be.

“She wanted to fight for their future,” Vander murmured, sitting across from you on the table. His legs were on either side of yours, eyes soft as he looked between the girls.

“Children need their mothers.” You closed your eyes, refusing to shed any more tears. “We lost too many people to this, Vander.”

“I know.”

“What if they come to finish the job?”

Those mits for hands landed on your knees, expression stern when you looked at him. “I won’t let that happen.”

Powder shifted in your hold, burying her face into your neck. Violet sensed the change and hugged your side tighter. You weren’t sure if your heart could break any further.

“We’ll raise ‘em,” he continued, rubbing your legs as he leaned forward. “We’ll protect ‘em and I’ll get the Lanes back up and running.”

“What about Silco?” you sniffed. “He hasn’t even…”

“I’ll find him,” he promised, a faraway look in his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.”

Your eyes closed as he stood, leaning down to kiss your forehead. Your lumens flashed overhead, grazing.

“You watch ‘em. I need to check on the rest upstairs,” he said, running a hand over each of the girls’ heads. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, Grizzly,” you murmured and he managed a smile for the first time after the war.

It was going to be a long time before the weight left it.

[love-toxin]

✧˖° nasty sentence starters °˖✧

feel free to send one with a character(s) for me to write! (and reblog/share/use as you like also! <3)

fair warning: DDNE ahead.

Degrading

I - “Don't make me pull out.” 

II - “I want everyone to see you.” 

III - “Lick it, bitch.” 

IV - “Are you cumming again? Fucking scum–you cum when I say you can cum.” 

V - “I love how dumb you look right now.” 

VI - “Face the camera. Put on a big smile for me, yeah?” 

VII - “Go on, touch it. It's not gonna bite.” 

VIII - “I said, touch yourself. Don't give me that shy act right now.” 

IX - “Look at you, squirming around like that. Pathetic.” 

X - “No, you don't get to join me on the bed. Kneel on the floor.” 

XI - “To think, just a few minutes ago you refused to let me use this hole. Changed your mind quick, didn't you?” 

Submissive 

I - “D-Do I have to get on my knees?” 

II - “Can we do this in private? Please?”

III - “More!” 

IV - “Please don't stop.” 

V - “I'll be good, I promise.” 

VI - “Are you gonna use protection?” 

VII - “Me! I'm a good puppy! It's me!” 

VIII - “It's okay if you hurt me, I can take it.” 

IX - “I love it when you choke me.” 

X - “D-Did I make a mess on your face?” 

XI - "M-Meow.."

Breeding

I - “Gimme a baby, sweetheart.” 

II - “Ha! You're so getting knocked up.” 

III - “Gonna get you pregnant, you want that? I bet you do. It's written all over your face.”

IV - “Can I give you my babies? Pleeeeease?” 

V - “I know we just had one, but I really wanna breed you again.”

VI - “That's it, mama. Let's put another kid in this pretty belly.” 

VII - “Fuck, I love what pregnancy did to you. You're so fucking hot.” 

VIII - “Throw away your birth control. I'm going at it for real this time.” 

IX - “I could help you get your milk out, if you just asked.” 

X - “Breed me!” 

Noncon

I - “Stop fucking crying!” 

II - "Don't pretend like you didn't ask for this."

III - “I should've gagged you a long time ago. It suits you.” 

IV - “Ugh, get off me, you fucking perv!” 

V - “Spread your legs, or I'll use this knife to fuck you instead.” 

VI - “Just a little longer, I promise–I’m sorry baby, it'll be over soon, just a little more and I'll let you sleep.” 

VII - “Don't fight me, baby. Struggling is pointless.” 

VIII - “I'm keeping these for later.” 

IX - “Condom? Ha! That's funny.” 

X - “You're gonna be real popular online, cutie.” 

XI - “Are the drugs making you dizzy, sweetheart?” 

XII - “You're even noisier when you're asleep.”

Stuck

I - “Just a little bit–hey, not that much!” 

II - “Get in. We've only got a minute or two.” 

III - “Sure, I can make you cum quick. You know you can't resist me.” 

IV - “C'mooon, just give it a rub? I promise I'll be fast.” 

V - “I can't get off without your mouth. Just gimme a minute or two on your knees, and I can take care of it.” 

VI - “Just the tip?” 

VII - “Don't you dare make a mess!” 

VIII - “Just cause we're stuck here doesn't mean we have to-” 

IX - “Holy shit, are you stuck? I guess I'll just help myself then.” 

X - “You're pretty cocky for someone who can't get away.” 

Touching

I - “Can I touch myself?” 

II - “Are you getting off under my blanket?!” 

III - “S-Sorry, I didn't mean to walk in!” 

IV - “C'mon, we can rub one out together. It won't mean anything, I swear.” 

V - “Uh, did you need me to leave..?” 

VI - “It'd be easier to finish if you watched me, y'know…” 

VII - “Want me to teach you how?” 

VIII - “I bet I could make you squirt.” 

IX - “Aww, you need help getting it up?” 

X - “Gross! Quit touching yourself!” 

XI - “If you're so riled up, then hump your pillow. What? You heard me.” 

XII - “Go on, I got that toy for you! I wanna watch you use it.” 

Forbidden love

I - “Fuck, we really shouldn't be doing this here.” 

II - “Are you sure I'm not too old for you, sweetheart?” 

III - “I knew you'd fall for me eventually. Nobody could ever fuck you like I do.” 

IV - “Your ass is mine. I don't give a fuck what anyone else says.” 

V - “Who cares if they know? I hope they hear me pounding your guts every night.” 

VI - “I bet your boyfriend/girlfriend is real jealous right now.” 

VII - “Maybe I'll make your husband watch, just to show you I'm serious.” 

VIII - “C'mon, we're not even related! We can have a little fun if we want.” 

IX - “You always come crawling back. Don't say sorry, just get on my lap where you belong.” 

X - “A grade bump? Oh, don't play dumb. You know what you need to do if you want to pass.” 

XI - “Sometimes I think you fail your tests on purpose, just so you can fuck an A out of me.” 

Addiction

I - “I'm sorry! This is the last time, I promise. I just really need to get off.”

II - “If we don't bang in the next ten minutes, someone's gonna die.” 

III - “Jerking off to your pictures isn't that weird…”

IV - “Do you want money? I'll give you money. I'll give you anything, just, please let me taste you.” 

V - “Can't you just stay in bed with me today?” 

VI - “I'm not done yet–hold still.” 

VII - “What do you mean all my partners look like you? You're just seeing things.” 

VIII - “Okay, so I broke into your house and jacked off into your underwear, so what? It was only a couple times!” 

IX - “Is it bad that I dream about kidnapping you and fucking you in my basement?” 

X - “I trust you, but I still need to check so I know you're not cheating on me. Knees apart."  

XI - "It's a little late to hide--you already pissed on my lap."

Sweet

I - “Good morning, beautiful.” 

II - “Don't worry, I'll go slow, sweetheart.” 

III - “This always happens when we cuddle…not that I'm complaining, of course.”

IV - “Can I kiss you down here?” 

V - “You feel so nice. I could fall asleep like this.” 

VI - “Oh, I don't mind the blood, honey. Trust me, nothing will get in the way of me soothing your cramps.” 

VII - “Can I take your picture? You're so gorgeous, I want to remember this moment forever.” 

VIII - “Of course I can handle it! You won't suffocate me, I promise.” 

IX - “Whoops, uh…looks like I got a little too excited.” 

X - “Honestly, I feel like I need you even more now that we're married.” 

[popopretty]

BSD Chapter 107

"In the Narrow Room" - Part 3.1

We got a rather long chapter this month and the plot is progressing! Asagiri is always so unpredictable and I love it so much.

Please note that I don't speak English nor Japanese as a native language and I am also super excited about the chapter so I may make mistakes here and there. Please have mercy on me ;_;

SPOILERS AHEAD

After hearing Teruko talk about the true purpose of The Decays of Angel, Atsushi's head becomes confused with all the thoughts of what is right or wrong. He wishes someone could answer all of his questions. He remembers how Dazai used to show up in his thought when he struggles, and wonder why this time he cannot hear Dazai's voice anymore.

He stops at the foot of the tower and notices Aya and Bram there. He tries to go and rescue them, but it turns out to be a trap, with Akutaga jumps out to attack him.

Sigma is finding his way in the prison after escaping from the elevator. He thinks about what happened. He remembers Dazai checking the elevator before getting on it, and realizes that Dazai already knew the elevator was dangerous from the beginning, and he probably just got on it because it is what needs to be done to save the Agency. Sigma also recalls Dazai's expression underwater, he wonders if its the face when Dazai realized that the elevator was going to fall, and that's why Dazai acted the way he did. Sigma wants to run away by himself because he thinks an ordinary person like him cannot do anything. He then found a paper on the floor. It is written in Russian, that says "Save me" (Notes: The original text is just "Please save", it is not clear who it is telling him to save)

Back to Atsushi and Akutagawa. Atsushi still doesn't understand what is happening. He tries to fight back and realizes that Akutagawa is not using his ability to guard himself. Akutagawa instead sucks the blood from his own hand to heal his wound. He doesn't try to cover himself because he can regenerate like that, and it means unless Atsushi kills him, there will be no way to stop him. Atsushi tries to tell him to stop, hoping his consciousness is still there, and that he still wants to ask Akutagawa why he saved his life that time.

In Mersault, Dazai is seen dragging himself and leaning against the wall, covered in blood with his legs broken. He looks up to the surveillance camera and tells Fyodor to put an end to his pain cuz it hurts so bad. Fyodor gladly accepts and sends Chuuya to finish him. Suddenly Sigma enters the room and shoots Fyodor in the shoulder, telling him to stop attacking Dazai. Sigma says he is there cuz he has promised Dazai to touch Fyodor to read his scheme in the airport. Fyodor asks why Sigma has to keep the promise with Dazai, which surprises Sigma himself. Fyodor then proceeds to say that Dazai has manipulated Sigma the whole time, and that normally Sigma is not that kind of a reckless person. He explains that at first, Sigma only wanted a "home" so he would not get used by anyone. But after watching Dazai, Sigma has come to realize that a lonely "home" is not enough. He has started to want not a place, but trust, a relationship where people rely on others without borrowing or trading anything. In other words, he has started to want to become a member of the ADA. Yet, Fyodor adds, it is not Sigma's own thought, but the trick Dazai uses to tamper with his heart.

Sigma thinks back of what Dazai has told him, and still decides to point the gun at Fyodor. Because even if it is a trick, Dazai has paid a big price for it, and accepting a customer's bet is the casino's way. He says he knows Fyodor is trying to manipulate him too, to cause distrust towards Dazai and makes him drop the gun. Sigma then adds that Dazai has won this manipulating competition.

According to the fact that Fyodor has to try to talk him into lower the gun, Sigma concludes that he has no other backup. He tells Fyodor he is going to touch him and read his information, but before that he wants Fyodor to tell him what his ability is, cuz its dangerous to touch someone whose ability might be activated by contact. In the last frame, Sigma changes the question from "What is your ability" to "What the hell are you?"

The chapter ends here. Next chapter will be out on June 2, 2023 (Japan time). Thank you for reading till the end!

[ohthewh0rror]

TOM RIDDLE : DATING HEADCANONS

A/N: Pls keep in mind this man is not mentally sound, so he is going to be toxic in some way. But, if you’re like me, you love a walking red flag, so let’s go. 😗

King of gaslighting, especially when it comes to shifting blame and countering/denial.

Doesn’t like owning up to anything he may have done to hurt your feelings. I don’t think you’ll ever get a genuine apology out of this man unless he’s done/said something that could end the relationship.

Not interested in you at first. Your looks meant nothing to him, he only became attracted to you after getting to know you.

Not experienced. At all. Despite being very handsome and charismatic, he has no interest in simple hookups. You’d be his first and last lover.

Very possessive. Not the typical jealous type either, he won’t physically fight anyone over you, but will try to isolate you from anyone who could take your attention away from him.

For lifers. You two ain’t breaking up. Go ahead and get that thought out your mind. Better yet, he’ll remove it for you.

Wont spend every waking moment with you, as he has other (not very good things) to do. But, he will make time for you.

Controversial: does not include you in what he’s doing. You’ll know he’s up to something, but until it’s at the point where he can’t hide it anymore, he’s not involving you. He sees it as his way of protecting you.

Not into PDA, and isn’t overly affectionate, but he’s not completely closed off either.

His affection is a little more subtle. Holding hands under the table, a hand on your lower back, brushing your hair off your shoulder, a quick peck on the corner of your lips, etc.

Not a hugger, his hugs are awkward, he won’t stop you if you come in for one though.

Does use pet names/nicknames for you, and they’re not always degrading.

In the bedroom he might call you out your name, but outside the bedroom he either calls you ‘sweatheart’, ‘darling’, or just a shortened version of your name. (He’s called Bellatrix, Bella, so I will hear no criticism on this one.)

Doesn’t have a high sex drive, can go a week or two without it. Knows you have needs though, and won’t protest if you buy stuff to get yourself off in the meantime.

Likes to be called ‘sir’ or ‘master’ in the bedroom.

Hair puller, ass slapper, calls you ‘slut’ kind of kinky. So not into anything crazy, but not completely vanilla either.

Not the king of aftercare by any means, but won’t leave you to completely fend for yourself either. Typically only brings you what you need to cleanup.

Doesn’t exactly cuddle? this is honestly the closest you’re getting to cuddling with him.

Doesn’t like talking about his feelings, and will never completely open up to you. Will listen to your problems though! Even if he doesn’t particularly care.

Do not complain to him unless you want him to just give you “solutions”. If you expect him to just listen to you complain and not give any advice, please save your breath. Doesn’t understand that some people just need to talk about their day to feel better and don’t want unsolicited advice about what to fix.

Father/Marriage Bonus:

Will marry you. Like an actual wedding band/ring, you in a pretty white dress/outfit, and a first dance type of wedding. Granted no one else will be there, just the two of you. But it’s special, a very intimate day.

Does he want kids? No. If you do get pregnant on accident will he be happy? Hell no. But, it’s not the end of the marriage. If you want to keep the baby he won’t protest, but is straightforward in telling you that he is taking a backseat in raising the child if you choose to keep it.

He’s a boy dad. Stays true to his word and you do pretty much all the child raising, only holds/takes care of the child if you ask him to.

Is low-key happy once the child goes away to Hogwarts. Would never tell you that though.

[in1-nutshell]

I want to request for Buddy to be a Shatter glass Megatron long lost twin but has the original Megatron personality, i understand if you don't want to tho.

Ooooh! Haven't done one of these before! My knowledge of the Shattered Glass universe is a bit rusty, but I think this ended up pretty good for the knowledge. I did only 3 mechs this time around since these were the best I knew. Let me know if this isn't what you wanted.

Hope you enjoy!

Con’s reaction to Megatron’s twin with OG Megatron’s personality

SFW, familial, platonic, Cybertronian/ Bot reader

SG!

Megatron

He loves Twin really.

But sometimes he worries about his more… physical side. It’s a bit rougher than what he’d like it, but its perfect for the battle ahead.

“We need a plan!”--Starscream

“Anyone have any ideas?”--Megatron

Twin raising his servo.

“One that doesn’t involve with a frontal attack.”--Megatron

Twin lowers his servo.

Without a doubt Twin is one of the best fighters in his army. An excellent strategist on most days. But sometimes when things get a little too heated, the lines tend to blur.

Twin raising their mace over Sideswipe helm.

“Wait! Stop! He’s on our side!”--Megatron

“And how do you know that?”--Twin

“I was left for dead by the Autobots. I gave you the attack plans yesterday?!”--Sideswipe

“Oh… Now I remember. Sorry Sideswipe, please let me help you back to the medbay.”--Twin

“… Spinister and Bombshell aren’t going to like this.”--Sideswipe

“… I know…” –Twin

Which leads to a question many Decepticons had asked.

Why wasn’t Twin second in Command?

It was a simple answer. He didn’t want to be second in Command. He was a soldier and would follow Megatron and his superiors into battle without hesitation.

Megatron misses the days when they would just listen to Twins poetry and manifestos about the corrupt government. A part of him which was now buried under years of pain and suffering from this blasted war.

He is glad that his twin remained loyal to the Decepticon cause and did not move to the power hungry Autobot side.

Megatron has had multiple spark attacks as Twin will fight any of his greatest enemies on sight. No joke.

“It’s over Megatron. Time to meet your—”—Optimus Prime

“OPTIMUS!”--Twin

“Stay back!”--Megatron

“STAY THE PIT AWAY FROM MY BROTHER, YOU SPAWN OF A—”--Twin

“Finally, a real fight.”--Optimus

Starscream

They both met when the war was starting. Megatron himself gave him the introduction, which was interesting.

“Starscream, this is Twin, he is my brother.”--Megatron

“Hello.”--Twin

“Well hello to you too. I look forward in working with you and the others.”—Starscream

“Likewise, Starscream.”--Twin

Despite some clash in morals and personality, the two worked well. Starscream had told him many tales of him and Skyfire before the war had happened. Twin is protective of Starscream after hearing how Starscream was nearly captured. It is on sight if Twin ever sees Skyfire.

“Skyfire, please reconsider!”--Starscream

“Enough traitor!”--Skyfire

“You’re the traitor!”--Starscream

“AND I’M YOU’RE EXECUTIONER!”--Twin

“AHHH!”--Skyfire

“BUDDY STOP! WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS!”--Starscream

Yes, they do argue, but it never escalates too much. Twin protects his friend.

Soundwave

They met through Megatron on a tour of their new base.

“Soundwave, this is my brother.”--Megatron

“Oh, Hi there! It’s nice to meet you! Wow you too look a like but I’m getting a different vibe from you than Megatron. How was the say? Looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill you? No, looks like they can kill you but is a cinnamon roll. Oh—I’m rambling again. Sorry about that, sometimes I do—”--Soundwave

Inside Twin’s helm

‘I’m going to befriend this mech so hard.’

He still doesn’t know if this was a good idea or not. Twin knows things just as quickly as Megatron because they are so close.

Twin sometimes looks after the cassettes if Soundwave needs to be somewhere else.

It’s rare but it happens.

“Hey, I’m bac—What happened here?”--Soundwave

Twin laying down with the mini’s napping all over his frame.

“This is how I die… leave me here.”--Twin

Like Starscream, soundwave has told twin about Blaster. And like Skyfire, it is on sight for Blaster.

Twin is fiercely protectively over his friends.

“Its current time you second class scum!”--Blaster

“That’s what you think!”--Soundwave

“That’s what I know. You ain’t got no cassettes and you’re weapons jammed. What else do—”--Blaster

SMASH!

“BLASTER!”--Twin

“I’m outta here!”--Blaster

“GET BACK HERE YOU, SORRY EXCUSE OF A BOOMBOX!”--Twin

“Hey now, we’ve talked about the deep breathing exercises. Come on 1,2,3..”--Soundwave

“… 4,5,6…”--Twin

He does agree too much with the levels of violence Twin can get to, and there have been arguments about this. It usually gets resolved quickly though.

Faster than the others fight.

Has accidentally read his thoughts on the inner poet inside. Soundwave actively tries to get Twin to pick back the hobby. They sometimes share their hobbies on slower days.

[fandom-means-family]

911 season 8B opening idea...

Buck helps Eddie pack up his stuff. They pack boxes, put away the kitchen supplies, the Playstation, the photos. And you can see they're both hurting. After the last box is closed, only the furniture still stands. "That's for the moving company," Eddie says and it's the first words we hear in the one minute packing montage.

They sit down on the couch and look ahead at the black TV screen. You see their reflections in it.

"I'm gonna - gonna miss that couch," Buck mutters.

"I'm gonna -" Eddie stops. He brings his hand up to his chest and clenches his jaw. Takes a deep breath to fight down the upcoming anxiety attack. "I'm gonna miss your lasagna."

The silence is heavy. Somewhere in the background, a clock is ticking. The phone rings.

They hear about Maddie.

----

In the hospital, Buck waits outside Maddie's room. Eddie's next to him, a deja-vu of the horrible day when Chim was attacked and Maddie abducted.

"I hate that you're leaving," Buck says. "But I get it. You don't wanna miss out and you gotta make sure he's safe. I get it. You're all he's got."

And Eddie just looks at him, but Buck is staring straight ahead and doesn't see the tears in Eddie's eyes.

----

"I gotta go or I'll miss my flight."

"I can drive you."

"It's okay. Stay with Maddie."

They hug.

"Just - just call me when you get there, okay?"

Eddie nods, chin still resting on Buck's shoulder.

----

Buck sits on the left of Maddie's bed, Chim's on the right, and Maddie exchanges one look with her husband and takes Buck's hand.

"How are you holding up Evan?"

"Don't worry about me."

"But I do. We do."

Buck sighs and rubs his face. It's all a bit much all at once. People keep leaving him. And he can't change it. He couldn't reach Tommy. He didn't try to change Eddie's mind. All he can ever do is watch as they go.

He shows her all the messages he sent to Tommy, marked as read.

"What if the universe is trying to tell me I'm just meant to stay alone?"

Maddie looks at Chim again, then back at Buck.

"That's not your fate. Evan, I know you. You never give up. If you have someone worth fighting for, you do that. You fight."

"You know," Chim adds, "a man barely wiser than yourself once told me that tomorrow isn't promised to anyone. So if you love him, tell him."

----

"Listen, I know you don't wanna hear it but I - I hate this. I just want - I don't know. God, I don't know what I want but I know it's not this. Please, just - just call me back."

---

Buck is in his car, speeding down the street way too fast considering the heavy rain. He sees sirens in the distance and a traffic jam sign. He gets closer. There's a car right at the exit of the highway. It's flipped onto the back, the driver must have hit the brakes too hard and lost control.

Buck passes the scene. He turns his head, trying to recognize any of the firefighters huddled around the car. That's when his eyes catch the scratch at the door of the overturned vehicle. He remembers the day it got there.

He slams the brakes.

----

Inside the car, a phone is lying with a cracked screen. A firefighter takes it.

"Hurry up!" someone yells.

"Someone get me a tourniquet!" another one shouts.

The unnamed firefighter looks down onto the phone screen. The screen is frozen.

1 voice mail from: Buck

----

"Sir, you cannot be here."

"No. No, I - I gotta - I gotta be there."

He points his shaky finger at the ambulance.

"Do you know that man?"

Buck can't speak.

Not far away, the sign for LAX stands tall above the highway. It would have been just one more exit.

----

The house is South Bedford Street is vacant and silent. The old clock is still on the wall, but it stands still. But there's still a light on in the living room. The only thing it illuminates is a couch.

[buckyswintersoldiermask]

Prompt: “if you want to do everything alone, go ahead. I’m not stopping you.”

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Bucky Masterlist

Summary: Bucky is done.

Warnings: angstyyyy

Word Count: 492

A/N: I guess I’m back? Hiii

For years, you relied on one person, herself. Is that your destructive trait? Is the fact that you can’t count on anyone else the cause of your relationship ending? Are you the problem?

You had been keeping something from Bucky for weeks now, that’s something you normally did. He didn't normally have a problem with it, but you were having trouble at work, lashing out at people. You were lashing out at him for little things, like a dish in the sink, or a blanket left on the couch. Everything that Bucky did, upset you.

“Bucky, leave me alone, I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you say walking out of the kitchen to the dining room.

Bucky wouldn’t take that. This was your third argument this week. Each time you wouldn’t open up to him. Bucky follows you into the dining room, calmly. “Why won't you let me help you?” He puts his hands on your shoulder, “(y/n), doll, what’s going on?”

You shake off his hands and walk away further, “You didn't wash your dishes last night.”

“Cut the crap (y/n), what is the problem? You won’t let me hug you, kiss you, nothing!” Bucky says slightly upset but not letting it show.

“I know,” you respond, still facing the wall.

You and Bucky sat there in silence for a moment, dwelling in both of your thoughts. Bucky knows you are having a hard time right now and he just wants to support you. He wants to be there for you like he’s always been, but lately, he’s a bit drained. Between work, his friendships, and this tumultuous relationship, he doesn’t know what to do. He tries to be strong for both of you, but who's being strong for him?

“(y/n).. Talk to me.”

“No.”

“(y/n), talk to me. Please.” He almost begged.

You stare at him, not wanting to let him in like always. Bucky was getting frustrated with you.

“Why are you like this?!” He shouts, startling you. You face him and fold your arms, “so we’re yelling now?”

“I’m tired of this.” Bucky says exhausted, you can hear it in his voice, “I can’t keep doing this.”

“What does that mean?” You ask under your breath.

“Exactly what I said, I can’t do this anymore.”

You look at Bucky speechless, it has come down to this.

“If you want to do everything alone, go ahead. I’m not stopping you,’ He pauses for a moment, “I have been by your side for 6 years and you have refused to open up and talk to me. I have loved you more than you’ve loved yourself. I can’t do this anymore.”

Your face falls when you realize he’s being serious. Your heart breaks a little but you know it's your fault. You nod, not putting up a fight, and say okay, realizing you are too stubborn to change, and that's why he’s leaving you.

Please do not steal, copy or translate my writings, or post them on other sites.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated :)

Bucky: @qhbr2013 @allforkook @supremethunda @amelia-song-pond @tinylumpiaa @leyannrae @teebarnes @teti-menchon0604 @mogaruke @ccosmic-illusion @supraveng @1-800-imagines @l1nd3n @casa-boiardi

[canisxx]

You can call me:

✦ Nexus/Nex

✦ Canis/Cani/Can (the "a" sound is like in "car")

✦ or whatever you want idc

I do art, tf2 related. But one day I will post OC related stuff, so be ready.

I'm also a 3d artist, and currently waiting on a new laptop to continue my work. Buuuut idk if I'll post any of it.

Now important info:

✦ I'm Russian. And I speak fluently Russian/English/Polish. A bit of German too

✦ Autistic (high functional)

✦ Genderfluid/asexual/bi. I can be man, woman, both and nothing at the same time. I'm probably not even a human after all, so use whatever pronounce you can imagine.

✦I do draw NSFW/gore. But I won't post it here without a warning! ⚠️⚠️⚠️ I also can make suggestive/mean/sarcastic jokes time to time. (I'm not bad I promise)

✦ I LOVE when people argue with me. When they shout at me, start fighting with me, it's always so fun. So please, start bickering with me.

✦ I don't have any rules. I want to see/hear/read the nastiest shit. Surprise me, I dare you.

✦ I love answering questions, so go ahead and ask me something

✦ I will probably take commissions in future too

✦ Irl I look like Ms. Pauling, and it's the biggest ego boost ever.

✦ I'm a huge cunt and can seem to be mean and rude. But in reality, it's just how I express my affection, so I'm sorry if I offend anyone I never mean it seriously. Just tell me if I say something bad, okay?

✦ I love my mutuals. so please, if you're ma mutual, it means I am more than happy to talk to you🫂

(idk what to add more, I'll update it when come up with something.)

[alexihollis]

Mirror Images

Ajax did not mean to overhear the argument. Sincerely, one hundred percent, overhearing the argument was the last thing she meant to do. But she happened to be passing by the room on her way back from the bathroom and the yelling was loud that close to the door and...Well.

Ajax didn't love yelling.

So.

She stopped. For a second.

You know. Just to make sure everything was okay.

It became pretty obvious it was Swan and Mercy - made sense, she was stopped in front of their bedroom after all.

"-don't need to!" Swan.

"He fucking cat-called you!" Mercy.

"Yes, I am well-aware! That did not give you the right to throw a can in his face!"

"You weren't doing anything about it!"

"Nothing needed to be done!"

"Something did! You deserve better than that-"

"You cannot start a fight with every man who disrespects me, that's ridiculous-"

"I'm sorry, is this a regular occurrence?!"

"We live in New York!"

"He's affiliated, he needs to fucking know better. What would Cleon say?"

"That I didn't have my colors on? And I cannot stress how little that is the point."

"Whatever."

"Where are you going?"

"Smoke. We'll talk about this later."

"Wha- Wait, Mercy-"

There was a moment of quiet. Then, Mercy, softer, but loud enough for Ajax to still hear: I still love you."

And Swan, small in a way that caught Ajax completely off-guard and reminded her of someone, though she couldn't put a finger on who: "I love you, too."

Ajax barely managed to rush five steps down the hall before the door opened, throwing herself into the living room in a desperate attempt to not look like she had been eavesdropping. The look of complete bewilderment and exasperation she earned from Rembrandt from almost crushing Cowgirl on the couch told her she did not entirely succeed.

"Jesus, get off me," Cowgirl grumbled, shoving at Ajax.

Ajax settled on the couch when Mercy walked in, shrugging on one of Swan's corduroy jackets and fiddling with a packet of cigarettes.

"Where you goin', Mercy?" Cochise asked.

"Roof. Smoke," Mercy jiggled her cigarettes. "Anyone want to join?"

She shouldn't. She really, really shouldn't. "Yeah. Need one."

"You literally just sat down," Cowgirl said.

Ajax ignored her, though she caught the slight furrow in Mercy's eyebrow. Mercy did not say anything, though, as they left the apartment and hiked up the stairs to the roof. Once there, it was quick work sitting with their backs against the small ledge and lighting up their respective cigarettes, Mercy letting Ajax borrow hers.

"Heard you threw a can at some guy's face today," Ajax said. Because she had no impulse control.

"Where exactly did you hear this?" Mercy asked.

Ajax shrugged. "Around." At Mercy's unimpressed look, "The door is not that thick."

"...Wait, did you hear us from the living room?" Mercy asked. Looking more than a little concerned that-

Oh.

Fucking great.

"No. I- I was standing outside your door," Ajax said.

Mercy blinked. "Why?"

"...Heard shouting. Wanted to make sure everything was okay." Ajax hated this.

Mercy sighed, heavily. "Yes, I threw a can in a guy's face. Go ahead, lecture me, gonna say the same shit that Swan did, probab-"

"Good for you," Ajax said instead.

"What."

Ajax shrugged. "Cat-called your girl. He earned a can to the face. Especially if he's affiliated, Swan's not a nobody."

"Can you please tell Swan that?!" Mercy exclaimed. "She thinks I overreacted!"

"Oh, you definitely overreacted."

"But you just said-"

"I agree with the overreaction, which should tell you something," Ajax said. "It already happened, I'm not gonna sit here and say you shouldn't have done it, but Swan's gonna be pissed about it and Cleon wouldn't be too happy either."

Mercy groaned, slumping against the wall. "This is stupid." Then, "I'm stupid. I didn't even mean to throw the fucking can, it just happened!"

Ajax laughed, low, "Yeah. Definitely been there."

"What if it was Rembrandt?" Mercy asked. "What would you have done?"

"It's been Rembrandt," Ajax said. "And- yeah, I've thrown worse things than cans. And Rembrandt gets mad every time."

That was when it clicked very suddenly. Who Swan sounded like at the end of her and Mercy's argument.

Rembrandt.

"Rembrandt says it scares her when I do that, because there's so much that could go wrong," Ajax said.

Mercy took a moment, before saying, "Swan said the same thing." Then, "Does Rembrandt do that thing where's she's like, its not about your ability to do whatever, but I get freaked out and blah and it makes you want to never do that thing just so she doesn't look at you with that sad, scared, puppy face ever again?"

Unfortunately, Ajax knew exactly what face Mercy was talking about, "I hate that face."

"I do, too." Then, "I mean, it's a cute face-"

"Adorable."

"But it's so sad and makes me feel like a monster."

"Scum of the Earth."

...

"Ajax. Has your girlfriend been giving mine lessons on how to guilt me into not being impulsive?"

"I really cannot think about that right now, I'm too focused on the fact that I have way too much in common with you."

"Does that mean we can talk about that silent agreement you and Swan have that involves you never letting me punch people?"

"Yeah, no, that was a verbal agreement with Cleon, because she thinks you're going to be snapped like a toothpick."

"I held my own against the Furies!"

"...You had a bat."

"...I can get another bat."

"Absolutely the fuck not, that is a terrifying idea, neither of us need bats and fuck you for making me the responsible one."

--------

Here's a bit of a funnier drabble to make up for all the angst lol

[hermesserpent-stuff]

wrote a little ahead for road trip

there is child abuse refenced and chains

spoilers and mispellings galore

Gambit twist and bites at the person trying to remove the ring rom his grasp. The anger is foreign. Not his. And he knows he can soothe it. He just needs a moment oto sort through the foreign emotions and his own. He curls into a ball around his bleeding arms and breathes deeply. He ignores everything accept the screaming anger that is underlaced with so much pain. Pain that echoes what he had felt once, while stuck in Moscow. In that room. With chains. It feels like something is pulling on those memories and he lets them flow, letting calm swirl through his mind. He is no longer there. So he can see it through eyes not bursting with pain. The rage slowly fades to whimpering sadness. 

Remy stands in a empty black space, full to the brim with darkness. A little girl kneels before him, neck chained to the floor and hands holding the ring. Her clothes speak of ancient times and the chains creak with rust of over a thousand years. 

Remy sits down and uses his powers to knock away the chains. He touches her arms and orange eyes meet his own red. 

“They made me make this. Or kill my little brother. It has all my… rage. All I ever wanted was to be… free.”

She whispers, her voice echoing out. It is not english, but his mind understands it all the same. Her neck is rubbed red from bindings and her clothing is filthy.

“Desole petite. Desole.”

He opens his arms, ignoring the ring. He would much rather bring comfort to a hurt child than gain a prize. The girl is hesitant and then wraps around him.

“Iv been stuck here. A piece of me stuck to this world. Can you please help me be free?”

“I will do my best petite. Close your eyes. Let me comfort you.”

He whispers back and holds her close. He lets his mind drift to the love of his brother and papa. It was harder to see how papa loved him now that Remy had aged. But he is certain that papa still does. The memories make it easy to fill himself with positive emotions and press them into the little girl. She sighs slightly and pulls on them. Taking. And Remy willingly gives. 

The darkness around them starts to bleach to grey and she leans back. She presses the ring to his hands and curls his fingers around it. 

“Dont let anyone wear this. It is a horrid thing I had to make. It is safe to you, bur no other. I dont want to kill anymore. But I dont know how to stop.”

She whispers.

“I will keep you with me petite, until all the pain I can soothe is gone.”

She smiles at him, a sad little thing that seems to have gone unused for too long. He presses a kiss to her forehead and then is awake. He is in Wolverine’s lap in the back of the van as it bounces down the road. Wolverine is pulling glass out of his arm and licking at the wounds caused by the explosion and the resultling glass. Remy’s hand is still in a white knuckle fist around the ring, but it feels friendlier now. He takes adeep shuddering breath and he can hear Sabretooth shift in the drivers seat.

“You good cub?! You went kind of catatonic. Runt went full feral panic.”

“Im… okay. Need to… String…”

Wearing a stolen ring brazenly on his finger is not the best of ideas. His words come out slurred as he finds himself mentally exausted from extering his empathy. Hetries to shift away from wolverine and gets growled at and held tighter in response.

“Whats- whats wrong with him?

“Hes full feral right now. Human words arent really going to be a thing for a bit. Runt’s running on instinct. And as soon as we get some were safe enough to nest, he is going to pin you. And Ill help him. You need to heal.”

Sabretooth sounds… pissed? Worried? Remy’s head lulls to the side and rests on Wolverine’s collar bone. The feral sniffs his hair, chuffs, and then licks it. Remy makes a face but is too tired and feels to much like jelly to fight the feral. 

“Mmmphh. Ring’s… dont touch it. Dont put it on.  Its safe for me now. Maiiss not you. Oui? Comprendre? I no let you touch, if’n you do you die.”

He tries to make sure none of those words slur. 

Sabretooth meets his eyes through the mirror. There is a pregnant pause.

“Fine. but youre explaining this later.”

“Oui.”

Remy slurs. He slowly opens his left hand which is now a little burnt and slips the ring on his right pointer just for now. He feels something tapping from within his shields but leaves it be for now. It is very weak. He shifts a little to be more comfortable in wolverines hold and then drops to sleep.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The many husbands of Agatha Harkness

The stranger cleared his throat, then said, “I have seen you around these parts for some time, yet never have I seen your husband.”

Rio snorted, murmured the word 'husband'.

“Oh,” Agatha said. "Ate him."

The normal fighting and flirting while they're still together dynamic. Agatha is tsundere, Rio would really like more romance. They're both very in love.

“Excuse me, good lady,” the man said, and that form of address was so inappropriate it took Agatha a moment to understand she was the one being spoken to. She stopped on the street, Rio, always a step behind, almost running into her.

“Yes?”

The stranger cleared his throat, then said, “I have seen you around these parts for some time, yet never have I seen your husband.”

Rio snorted, murmured the word 'husband'.

“Oh,” Agatha said. "Ate him.”

Rio burst into delighted giggles, while the stranger stared blankly at Agatha. “Excuse me?”

“The last one? I ate him. Baked him into a pie. Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t eat him all by myself. That would have been gluttonous. I split him with some friends.”

“The…last one?”

Agatha nodded, her tone still serious and sober, while peals of hysterics she was starting to suspect the stranger couldn’t hear at all happened directly next to her ear. He hadn’t looked at Rio once, she noted. “Time before that, I poisoned him, so he wasn’t fit for consumption. Shame, really. Had a lot of good meat on him. Learned my lesson from that one.”

The man had gone the color of bleached bone. “Oh. I—see. How many…?”

“Six. Is that all, good sir?” she smiled, a simpering, sickly-sweet smile. "Or were you perhaps wishing to spend some time with me, now that you know that I am naught but a poor widow, one who could use the company of a good, solidly built man?”

“N-no,” the man said. “Good day to you, madam.”

He sped past and Agatha watched him go, noting that it was probably best that Death didn’t need to breathe or she would have asphyxiated some time ago from laughter. “Lot of help you were,” she told Rio.

“I think you had it under control. Besides, how could I interrupt that?” the other woman said, then continued snickering, murmuring ‘six’ to herself.

Agatha couldn't stop the pleased smile that stretched across her face, listening to that. She reached out and took Rio’s hand in hers. ”Best to cut off that kind of thinking early. I wouldn’t want anyone imagining I am eligible.”

“You aren’t,” Rio agreed.

“Because I’m a busy witch who has no time for romance, of course,” she said, striding along until, predictably, her forward momentum was stopped by Rio suddenly anchoring her, refusing to go farther.

“…Ags,” she complained and now it was Agatha’s turn to snicker.

“Hmm?”

Arms wrapped around her from behind and she did hope Rio was still invisible or they would cause terrible scandal in this small town. Which was generally not a problem, but she had hoped to stay here for a few more days, until she finished what she was working on.

After that, they would likely be leaving quickly regardless.

"Stop that,” Death, the great equalizer, the final destination, whined in her ear. “It hurts my feelings.”

Agatha couldn’t stop her own laughter, tinged with cruelty. “So sensitive,” she mocked.

"Heeeey, Agatha,” Rio murmured. “Say something nice.”

“Something nice,” she said on autopilot, aware she was testing Death’s patience, not a good idea but always a thrill. She had to get her kicks somehow.

Rio groaned against her, nuzzled into her neck, which did make her lips part, her breathing get faster. "Beloved, sometimes…" she said, then trailed off.

"Hmm? Not going to finish that sentence?"

Rio's teeth pressed against her neck. "Do you really want me to? Reaaaaally?"

No, she really did not. Unfortunately, Agatha had a chronic inability to back down. She shrugged, pretending indifference. "Go ahead, then."

"Agatha Harkness, you are such a trial sometimes," Rio said, her tone flat. "You throw your contempt for our relationship in my face, and then when I dare to protest, you mock me for it."

Suddenly, this wasn’t even a little bit amusing. Agatha found she had gone cold, a spreading numbness starting at her fingertips and cascading up her arms. "…Rio," she protested. "You're taking this too seriously. You know what I'm like."

"Mmhmm. Cruel, callous, heartless, indifferent…"

"Yes, all right, that's enough," Agatha said quickly, not needing to find out how many adjectives Rio could list in that particular category. She suspected it was quite a lot. "You know I…"

"Hmm?"

"…am fond of you."

Rio laughed again, but this time it was less amused, a sound much closer to the shrieking of the damned. "Coward," Rio said, even as she nuzzled and mouthed Agatha's hair. "You love me. You adore me. I'm all you think about. That's what you meant to say?"

Sometimes Agatha would have liked to be able to stop and have a stern conversation with herself before she spoke. "I really don't think it is," she said.

Rio clicked her tongue in frustration. "Ags, come on. Why? Whyyyy?" Before Agatha could answer, she continued, "I know, I know, you've always got to be the one in charge. You've always got to win, you've got to be invulnerable, you can't admit you've got any weaknesses. You've got to push me away before I leave, so that you don't get hurt."

Agatha wished she were having this conversation somewhere other than the corner of a street in a dusty little village, looking like a madwoman talking to herself. Better yet, she wished she weren't having this conversation at all. "That's not…"

Rio squeezed her harder, pressing into the boning on her dress. "I'm not going, Ags. I'm never going. I'll never leave you."

"Once again pointing out that you say that like a threat."

Rio snickered against her ear. "Take it as you will, my love. I'll be with you until the end."

"And presumably beyond?"

"That, too," Rio agreed, her teeth scraping Agatha's earlobe.

Agatha sucked in a breath and continued to say all the wrong things. "What if I get bored of you?" She didn't look back as she said it, heart pounding in her chest.

Rio didn't answer that for long enough that the silence grated on her, so she kept talking, saying more things she suspected she would regret later. "I'm only saying, tastes change and life, especially my life, is long. I might want to try other flavors."

She couldn't actually imagine that would ever be the case. She had never thought herself the kind to fall in love at all. It was a terrible weakness, to love anyone that much, to trust that they wouldn't turn that love back on you, use it to bind you to a post and try to burn the life out of your body.

"Too bad," Rio said. "You're mine."

"Ah, so it has been a threat all along," Agatha said, but she couldn't keep the delighted smile off her face. She turned to face her lover, barely noticing that people were crossing the street to avoid her. None of those people mattered in the least.

"If you like," Rio agreed. "But you do love me, Agatha, even if you have to be a terrible chore about it."

"If you say things like that, my feelings will get hurt," Agatha simpered.

"What feelings," Rio said, looking at her with disdain, and Agatha burst into wild laughter, clapped her hands on either side of Death's face and met wide brown eyes, big enough to drown in.

"Rio, my heart," she purred, and delighted in how much wider those bottomless eyes could get. "I love you. I adore you. Stay with me all the way to the end and beyond."

"You're not getting out of it that easily," Rio said, but Agatha could tell from the way her lover's lips parted and her pupils dilated that she would win.

She always did, but it was a thrill every time.

"I really will look crazy if I kiss you here," she pointed out.

"Ags," Rio murmured from close enough to make Agatha ache with the desire to kiss her. "Do the thing."

"Which thin—oh. It's a waste of power—"

Rio's mouth firmed into a hard line and Agatha decided she might actually be risking Rio's patience running out. "Fine, fine, fine." She stirred her fingers through the air, a faint hint of purple energy spinning with them. "Sanctum mortem, venalis mortem, da locum."

"Such terrible Latin," Rio murmured, but she completed the ritual, green power intertwining with Agatha's, blending together to make something different than either of them. “Mortem das locum, mortem omnia."

"Not the point," Agatha said and let herself—

She'd invented this spell, but she still didn't understand it, not completely. She'd been experimenting with her power and Rio's one afternoon and stumbled on it. Teleportation was not an easy witch spell, so any kind of transportation was valuable. Unfortunately, this one did need both her and Rio's power, but she secretly found that just a touch romantic.

She fell through the earth. And they were out the other side, at the little garden Rio had planted outside their cottage and Rio tackled her, knocked her to the ground and kissed her, fierce and unrelenting as a tidal wave.

When they broke apart, Agatha gasping like a drowning woman coming up for air, Rio grabbed her by the shoulders. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“The other thing.”

Agatha swallowed. “…Stay with me.” Then, softer, uncomfortably honest, “Please stay with me.”

She flinched back from her own words, expecting mockery or triumph, Rio’s shrieking laugh filling the air.

Instead, Rio collapsed against her, deflating like a spent balloon. She nodded with her head buried against Agatha’s shoulder. “Forever.”

She swallowed, discomfited by where this conversation had gone. Emotional honesty was never her preferred arena. “Even though I’m a trial and a chore?“

“No matter what.”

“Why?” Agatha asked, then immediately regretted asking. Too vulnerable.

“Because, my sweet, of all the other things you are.”

Agatha felt her cheeks heat and didn’t press for clarification. “…Ah. Can we go inside now, instead of sitting in the dirt?”

“Yes.” Rio bounded to her feet, hauling Agatha up with her by the wrist, then stopped and studied her. “Promise not to bake me into a pie?”

“No promises,” Agatha said, bringing Rio’s hand to her lips, delighting in the unblinking way the other woman watched her do it.

“I’d let you, you know.”

“…Is that supposed to be romantic?” Agatha asked, letting Rio lead her inside.

“Isn’t it?”

”Every once in a while, darling, your facade of humanity slips completely.”

Rio glanced back, clearly pleased by the pet name. “Agatha, say it again. Tell me you love me.”

“Noooo. That’s enough of that for this epoch.”

Rio pivoted to stare at her with a hint of her previous exasperation. “Heartless,” she murmured with a shake of her head.

“That’s me,” Agatha agreed, then leaned up and brushed her lips softly across Death’s, enjoyed hearing her lover's breathing catch. “But you know you love it.”

Rio shook her head. “I tolerate it. I accept it. The price I pay to have the rest of you.”

“Yes, yes,” Agatha murmured, giving the other woman soft, sweet kisses that were slowly making Death, the final hour, the last goodbye, melt against her. She hooked her arm around Rio's waist and pressed a kiss to her jaw, which elicited a lovely whine. “But let me take you to bed and I promise by the end, you’ll be saying much nicer things about me.”

Rio nodded immediate agreement, which prompted Agatha to do what she always did, push her luck. “Say please,” she teased.

Rio’s fingers dug in with more force, almost painful. “I own a lot of knives,” she pointed out.

“You know what? That counts,” Agatha said hurriedly, nuzzling at the other woman's throat.

“Agatha. One more time. Say you love me.”

Agatha groaned. “Didn’t I just—“

Two fingers, surprisingly strong, guided her head up to meet Rio’s eyes. Death's mask had fallen away, and what stared back at Agatha was something utterly inhuman, a piece of the sacred balance given form.

“…Goddess, you’re beautiful,” Agatha said, cupping Death’s lifeless cheek, her thumb caressing bone. “I love you. You know that. Now please, please stop making me say it and come to bed, all right?”

Death broke into peals of hollow, bone-chilling laughter that slowly transitioned into Rio’s shrill giggles, and now it was Agatha’s turn to look exasperated. “Happy?” she asked.

“Yes. Will you ever get better at that, I wonder.”

“Think how concerned you would be if I did.”

“It’s true. I would worry about what magical entity had replaced the woman I love, to make her able to admit her feelings for me aloud more than once a millennia.”

Agatha disentangled from Rio's embrace and crossed her arms across her chest, trying to look intimidating. “I’m considering rescinding that offer to take you to bed.”

Rio only snorted, shaking her head. “You are not. How else would you flaunt your power over me?”

Agatha could never decide if it was terrifying or comforting, to be known like that, to have someone see her for who she truly was and choose not turn away.

“True enough,” she agreed. Her lips quirked in a crooked, twisting smile as she met Rio’s eyes and found that, for once, all she could see in them was her own reflection.

Good, she thought. Don't look away.

She turned and headed toward their bedroom, quirking her fingers to motion the other woman after her. “Come to bed, my heart. Let me make it all up to you.”

Rio sighed with something suspiciously like affection and followed Agatha. And, as always, Agatha did manage to more than make it up to her.

Want to read Rio running into Wanda? Try Death and the Scarlet Witch

Want to read a time Agatha tells Rio she loves her without even putting up a fight? Try the apple

Want to read about Agatha's feelings on Rio post-breakup, pre-show? Try rio stays

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: One

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter One: What Happens When a Swordsman Meets a Swordsmith? 

GIF by gildedmuse

Behind the Wall

Zoro notes that the trek up into the forest with Gramps is oddly silent, as his boots clumsily crush against the leafy meadow. Between the two, no words of small talk are being shared or expressed – which is surprising and also a breath of fresh air to Zoro, since it seems he can’t get away from people who love to yap. 

He was also secretly thankful that he was being guided to the swordsmith rather than having to put his listening comprehension skills to the test, with how – and he wholeheartedly believes this - villagers always give him the most confusing roundabout directions (really, it’s just them telling him to turn left). 

So, as he lags behind the dagger-swinging Gramps, he realises that this has been the first time in months that he’s felt at peace without having to sleep for it. 

After what seems like an hour of silent ambling, Gramps looks behind himself at the samurai and childishly beams. 

“We’re almost there, celery-boy.”

“Gotcha, dusty puffball,” Zoro retorts.

“I must warn you… you should be prepared for the swordsmith. She does not like to sugar-coat things.” 

Zoro remains silent; at first, he mulls over his words before deciding to shrug it off. It’s not like any of the swordsmiths he’s met are legendary, so really, why would her opinion matter?

As they near a mountainous cliffy terrain, Gramps stands ahead of a narrow gap between two rumbling boulders. His hands deftly stroke across a specific gap with obnoxious hand movements, which Zoro thinks he’s undoubtedly making up on the spot. Still, as the old man moves away from the caress, the rocks begin to shuffle and grumble lowly. The boulders twist and turn, jagged and crumbling, into forming an irregular cave-like hole. 

When the cave stops echoing its aroused yawn against its walls, the merchant turns around to stick his tongue at Zoro.

“You thought I was an insane old senile for a second, didn’t you?” 

Slowly, Zoro’s ears turn red.

“You did, didn’t you? You followed me here because you felt bad for me, didn’t you?” 

“Leave it alone,” Zoro sighs, feeling the heat continue to rush over the rest of his face. 

He quickly shuffles through the entrance before he can give the geezer another chance to holler at his idiocy. It didn’t stop the dusty puffball, though – as they both continue their journey within the dimly lit cave, Zoro can hear the old cackles that echoed off the jagged walls.

“Wait until you meet her, you’ll be lit up in flames!” He giggles deviously, pleased with his successful torment with the bull-head.

“I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks,” Zoro mutters, remaining tight-lipped for the rest of the journey. 

Over the Wall

“Go find a transponder snail right bloody now - I’m not dealing with him,” you hiss at your Gramps, who stares at you almost as dumbly as the green sword wielder standing beside him.

“What are you talking about?” Gramps Suki splutters, acting oblivious as he’s always been with you. “Give him a chance, he’s a good kid!”

“No,” you hiss, ignoring the green-head standing stoically in front of your anvil, putting your palm up at Gramps. “Call the Navy Protection Services right now, he’s a disgrace to his swords.”

“Do you want a fight with me, woman?!” The idiot swordsman yells, clawing clumsily for the weapons at his hip.

Unprovoked, you hit him with a deadpan look to the side. God, how many careless swordsmen have you dealt with who all act the bloody same?

“That’s brave, asking to fight the one person who knows how to make and break a blade.” 

In an instant, green-head starts shouting out a string of insults like a moron. 

Although small and frail in appearance, you know Gramps Suki is more than what he chooses to show to people. In a swift manoeuvre, his knobbly hands grip the guy by the collar, making the samurai look like a wretched cat dragged by its neck.

“Get your hands off me, dumbass!” The swordsman chokes, squirming and struggling against the strength of your Gramps. Ignoring him entirely, Gramps stares at you with bewilderment and slight humour.

“What?” You ask him, casually heading to the back of the room to wash your hands. 

“We aren���t pro-Navy, Raya, or have you hit your head on the anvil again?”

“You’ve hit your head on the anvil before?” A gruff voice snickers in Gramps’ vice grip, making you grit your teeth hard.

“Someone needs to call child protection services on those poor swords,” you loudly announce, shutting the green-head up from his evil grin. 

You turn around to rest against the sink, drying your hands with a blackened rag. 

“I can quite literally feel how broken they are in their sheaths, and I’m stood all the way here. Don’t you respect your blades, Mr. Samurai, or do you like to use them as big tooth-picks instead?”

And the dude, still squirming a few centimetres in the air, absolutely loses it. You can’t help but crack a laugh over how furious he’s getting as he begins to continue with his insults. You swear you hear him call you an anvil-indented-head in his string of lovely compliments.

Even Gramps can’t help but guffaw at the entire interaction between you two, completely folding over in on himself. Although still holding onto the green-head’s shirt in an abnormally strong grasp, he heartily laughs on, as if he’s holding a cloth in the air.  

Tsk. Maybe Gramps really is going senile - you think, while you dust off your blackened hammer. Out of any person in the world, you didn’t know why Sukiyaki decided to bring in this idea of a swordsman as a potential client.

You and Gramps have only worked for the best and scarcely have any, if at all, clients – simply because, for you and Gramps, swordsmithing is incredibly dangerous and quite literally life-threatening. Your whole cover can be blown up in an instant if the wrong person fucks around and finds out who you both are.

As underground swordsmiths, you intentionally work away from the hubbub of the central market to gain only the attention of the right clients. To you, this cabbage patch of a man shows absolutely no promise, evidence, or indication of worthiness to bear your craftsmanship by his side. 

This dude comes in with a crumbling sword, the sword who’s barely holding herself together in the shambled state she’s in, as well as bearing two other wobbly blades on his hip. The first time you sensed their three auras, as he and Gramps made their way towards you, your whole stomach dropped. 

Of course, you see broken swords all the time; in your profession, it’s called for – but the way that the green-head’s metals were humming – no, moaning - made you want to writhe in your own skin. You’ve never heard this level of sadness before. It completely pained you to know what the blades were thinking.  

How unfeeling he is to the forces who defend his life, time and time again. Frankly, it’s insulting. 

“Who do you think you are, anvil-head? You’re just the village’s swordsmith - a nobody,” the guy spits out, wholly absorbed in his anger. He finally manages to push himself away from Gramps’ hands and land on his feet.

“Oh, God.. not again,” Gramps mutters, shaking his head in mild displeasure. He knows what’s about to happen.

Your hands pause in the middle of buffing your hammer. 

A nobody, huh?

Your fingertips grow warm. You gaze up at the man – the first time you’ve actually acknowledged him with a look - who’s now stomping towards you, his hands balled in fists. 

As you shake your head, you feel tendrils of smoke and heat frame around your face. What a bull-head. 

“Fix my swords, woman,” he demands through gritted teeth, standing between you and your workbench. 

You sigh, unimpressed, staring straight into his eye. 

“It can’t be done.”

“Are you telling me you’re so unskilled that you can’t mend my swords?”

A smile unfurls across your lips, fire emanating from your fingertips and across the stray curls of your hair. 

You shake your head. 

“No, I’m telling you that I'm melting them. Look down.”

Gramps Suki and Bull-Head slowly tilt their vision to the floor, plainly staring at the liquid metal dripping out of all three of his sheaths. 

[misscammiedawn]

Dissociative Identity Disorder in Mr. Robot

So I have been writing little essays about Mr. Robot recently.

Dom's Sexuality, Gay Marriage and Whiterose

Back to the Future and Brainwashing

Today I wish to talk about the DID representation in Mr. Robot.

Actually I want to talk about the DID representation in the Hulk comics but there are 40 years worth of storylines involving it and it would require me to write about clinical understandings from the 1980s when it was called MPD (admitedly Mr. Robot's stumbles at the finish line with some of these same outdated treatment models) and that would take a while. Suffice to say it will happen eventually*. I shall make a new tag "Media Myself and I" and post it under that when I have more time to do it justice. Maybe I'll do others. I am uncertain. I believe I want to focus on positive depictions where there are no murder alters. The goal is to get people to want to enjoy things, not to steer them away. I have a few shows and games in mind at the very least.

Regardless… Mr. Robot is an easier topic to cover and is my hyperfocus of the moment.

So Mr. Robot is a show about isolation in the modern world. It's a show about socioeconomic stress, late-stage capitalism and what it means to enact meaningful change on a broken world.

But above all it is about the healing journey of Elliot Alderson, a man with dissociative identity disorder.

I say that at the start because Elliot's condition is never named until the final episode. In many ways a realistic depiction of a real world disorder was an afterthought noted in the final hour of the journey as a means of justifying the split personality trope and hiding a final twist. In spite of that the roadmap for the show was always leading to this destination and along the way they managed to get some fairly good representation out of the mix.

Season 2 even involves the only time I have ever seen a piece of fiction depict "blending" on screen. Blending isn't a symptom listed in either DSM or ICD manuals. It is, however, something one would hear about if they had a conversation with someone who had DID. I have used that scene to depict what it feels like to my partners.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

I love Mr. Robot. It is currently my favorite show of all time. If you have never seen it then please give it a shot. This post will be spoiler heavy and I'd hate to rob anyone the opportunity to watch S4E7 and have a pure emotional reaction to it. The show is on Amazon Prime and the full box set is available for $35-50 depending on format and vendor.

Go with my blessing.

-

The first season of the show begins with Elliot Alderson (Rami Malek) living a double life. By day a cyber security expert and by night he spends his time at his computer hacking people's accounts and satisfying a "little itch in the back of his head" that guides him to uncover the murky facts about people. The first scene of the show has him take down a cafe owner who hosts an illegal and deeply unpleasant website. I have seen individuals walk away from the first episode thinking that the show is "Dexter but with computers" but it is more lulsec activism with a Fight Club aesthetic.

The show has 4 seasons and each season depicts a different stage of Elliot's healing journey and with it completely different rules and depictions of his condition. I'll break down each season for what they do right and what they do wrong.

Season 1: Discovery

Elliot's system in season one is undiscovered but he has overt symptoms, meaning he is unaware that he has any alters but he suffers from clean breaks in his consciousness and drastically altered behavior patterns both which are a detriment to the "hidden" nature of the condition.

Commonly most people do not discover their condition until their 30s. I was 37/38 when our therapist started guiding us towards accepting our condition.

DID manifests in childhood but it's a hidden illness that does its best to go undetected. The point of the condition is to remain hidden. The internet and the educational resources it offers are helping younger individuals to recognize their symptoms and advocate for themselves at an earlier age but the standard medical understanding is that most people are developed adults before they are diagnosed.

Published statistics for DID indicate the global population of those with the condition is about 1.5% (some organizations argue the number should be higher due to how difficult it is to receive an accurate diagnosis, but 1.5% is the most consistent figure) which is rare but not to the point of never encountering it. For comparison, according to a 2023 census 1.0% of people in the USA identify as transgender. There are no tested classifications for Covert vs Overt display of symptoms but it is widely agreed that an overwhelming majority of cases within the 1.5% are covert.

We learn that Elliot is desperately lonely, abuses morphine and has paranoid delusions about men in black stalking his every move. Whenever Elliot is on screen we can never be sure what is real and what isn't, so there are times when men wearing black suits are on screen and we cannot be sure if Elliot is paranoid or delusional.

The show takes place through his perspective after all and we are a character in the show.

See… the narrative device of the show involves Elliot speaking to "friend", us. The audience. "Hello, friend." is a common refrain spoken throughout the show. The narrative begins a short while after Elliot had a complete mental breakdown and smashed up a server room, he is seeing a court appointed therapist, is socially paralyzed to the point of which we see him linger outside a birthday party and retreat home to cry in loneliness.

The entire first season Mr. Robot is depicted as another character, akin to Tyler Durden, a wild revolutionary who wants to encrypt the data of the world's largest bank in order to seal the debt records and reset everything back to 0. He starts off appearing in scenes involving the men in black stalking Elliot to mingle him in with the paranoid delusions and eventually begins interacting with him in earnest. Though the reveal is treated as a twist 8 episodes into the show Elliot does accuse the audience of knowing the entire time and he refuses to speak to us for some time, even going as far as to keep secrets from us because he cannot trust us any longer.

It's at this point that I will note that media depictions of DID tend to lean heavily on the phrase "it's a visual medium" and depict ways that characters can see, interact with and communicate with alters/parts in a dramatic setting. Off the top of my head Hulk is about the only form of fiction I've seen where the temptation to do this doesn't take over and even then the old "other face in the mirror" trope shows up there.

So for what it's worth the paranoid thinking and hallucinations are not DID symptoms and typically a person with the condition cannot see or hear their alters. In fact a testing criteria included in the MID exam is to rule out schizophrenia by eliminating the possibility that the voices heard are external or that any hallucinations exist. In Mr. Robot they are likely caused by Elliot's morphine addiction, but he gets clean after season 1 and Mr. Robot is always there.

There are some plot elements which I want to talk about but they do spoil the final "twist" of the show. So I want to warn again that anyone in the process of watching should be warned we are getting into entire show spoiler territory.

The Elliot we see in the show is the result of the stress fueled breakdown that Mr. Alderson had 6 months prior to the show starting. The timeline is fuzzy in my head but there were two triggers which set him off and began his condition flaring up (and/or caused him to lean harder into his drug addiction which in turn fueled his condition). The one we know about is that he was locked in a server room and forced to work long into the night on an issue and the already upset and stressed Elliot snapped and had a black-out.

We come to learn that he has had these his whole life but this is the first time such an incident occurred that he couldn't self-justify what had happened. He smashed up a server room, something he felt himself not capable of.

But the second trigger is the more important one.

His sister, Darlene, moved to NYC and started visiting him.

The bigger and better twist of season 1 is that Elliot and Darlene are siblings. This is hidden from Elliot and the audience for the first 7 episodes and her presence is treated much like Marla Singer from Fight Club, of whom she likely contains some inspiration, where she keeps showing up in Elliot's apartment and acting overly familiar with him.

In the earliest episodes when we are learning about Elliot's lonely life he looks at a photograph of himself and his mother at Coney Island. Due to some hallucinations we know that Magda is an abusive mother and screamed at/hit Elliot a lot. We learn more about her in future episodes and she is a truly horrible parent. Likely more than was ever depicted in the show.

The photo is actually of the full Alderson family including Darlene and Edward but is not shown as such until the reveals that Darlene is Elliot's sister and Mr. Robot is modeled after Elliot's father. The photograph is a reference to Back to the Future.

But it also is a fairly good visual representation of self-filtering information, even when it is contradictory in nature. This is common not just in DID but in all forms of CPTSD.

Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a condition that develops during prolonged exposure to trauma and makes radical changes to the nervous system. CPTSD is considered a root of DID and it is universal for those diagnosed with DID to have a CPTSD diagnosis also.

One of the ways CPTSD symptoms manifest is "Emotional Avoidance". The nervous system is activated when triggers related to the trauma exist within the person's life. In order to function their brains push away these reminders and naturally avoid interacting with them. This causes those with the condition to become withdrawn, to isolate and to have distorted and often contradicting patterns of thought. For instance Elliot needs connection and safety that he associates with family but his family were his primary abusers and so he edits his memories to focus on positive associations such as a family trip to Coney Island that has become an obsession to him in adulthood. We later learn that Elliot's obsession with movies was born from it being his primary way of connecting with his father... which is fairly relatable.

His positive memories of his parents are held in high regard even though we know that his father "pushed him out of a window" and his mother used to put out cigarette butts on Darlene, tried to force her to commit animal cruelty and is often depicted in hallucinations as beating and screaming at Elliot.

In a case where it is impossible to avoid the traumatic trigger, for instance the return of relative who is a living reminder of his abusive childhood, the individual may begin to dissociate. Dissociation being where a person, overwhelmed by what they are experiencing has a separation from their normal state leading to a disconnect from emotions, sense of self and reality.

Episode 8 in particular contains a visual depiction of it when Elliot is having a quiet meltdown over finding out he has a 2 day deadline and his boss at work has known about the server exploit he installed all along.

(the show often uses the camera in ways to emphasize emotional walls, dissociation and isolation like this. This sequence does so by having hard cuts, shaky cam and frantic pace melt into a gliding slow lull where the background noise filters out and we can share in Elliot's distance from his situation for a moment)

Elliot's form of blocking out is extreme but has half a foot in reality (and half a foot in the logic born from the "twist" ending) in that in order to continue interacting with Darlene he views her as a member of Fsociety and edits out their connection until it is revealed in episode 7.

A small brilliancy about Fsociety is that the entire group is formed around Elliot and Darlene's need for childhood safety. The hacking elements of the show undoubtedly born from 9 year old Elliot spending time at Mr. Robot computer repair with a smile. The anon-mask that the show uses comes from an in-universe movie that Darlene and Elliot watched every Halloween and their base of operations is Coney Island. A place that both siblings seem to associate with safety and happiness...

Which is extra messed up when you factor Season 2's revelation that Darlene was kidnapped while on a family trip to Coney Island.

Darlene's panic attacks, need to feel special and her abusive upbringing are not the topic for this essay, but I wanted to make mention that Magda was such a horrible mother that a 4/5 year old Darlene thinks of being kidnapped from a family trip to Coney Island as one of her most precious childhood memories.

The desire to reach into the past and change things to create an ideal future is a heavy theme of the show and I feel it's important to note that though the Alderson siblings reject Whiterose and her scheme, they are both living in an almost literal fun house distortion of the few unambiguously GOOD childhood memories that they each have and have wrapped them around themselves like a protective blanket.

The plot of season 1 gets a lot more uncomfortable when you realize how much of Fsociety is two traumatized kids recreating positive elements of their childhood and trying to live inside of those memories while lashing out at those who took their father away from them. The entire plan is centered around events from 1995. The show takes place in 2015.

Mr. Robot himself is, of course, the ultimate symbol of that take on events.

Edward Alderson was a monster. He's referred to as such overtly in Elliot's detox fever dream. Everyone asks him who his "monster" is while handing him the key that we learn was to his childhood bedroom. A key that he hid to prevent Edward from entering his room late at night.

Yet throughout the first 3 seasons of the show we are only shown him in context of the positive memories that he and Elliot shared. Elliot was 9 years old when Edward passed away from leukemia.

At a point, Elliot is picked up from school. He has a bruise on his cheek and the scene begins with Edward asking "If I had to guess, you didn't tell Principal Howard your side.", assuring him it's okay to share his side of the story. Because Edward is convincing him to tell his side I am going to assume Elliot got into a fight but it's not impossible to assume that the school pulled Edward in to discuss the signs of physical abuse on the child. Edward would never tell Elliot to tell his side of that story so I assume it was a fight.

It's unclear if Mr. Robot is the one who participated in those fights (we only have 2 confirmed instances of Elliot's alters showing up in childhood. The window incident and the day Edward died) but Edward picks him up and protects him from his mother's wrath and bonds with him during that drive, he reveals his diagnosis to Elliot before inviting him to work with him at the computer repair store. Likely this is what leads to Elliot's hacker skills being born.

A hauntingly similar event in my own life is why I am a photographer.

Given that the majority of Season 1 has Elliot in the dark about his condition we are only given context as to why he is the way he is and see the display of dissociative symptoms which manifest from CPTSD. Mr. Robot existing at all is actually not required for this to be a good depiction of adults who grew up in abusive environments and the way they maladaptively cope.

I also want to give a little praise to the "itch at the back of [Elliot's] head" that shows up when he feels the desire to hack someone or dig deeper and the way he pushes forward with his own will until he calms down enough to let a creeping hesitation overcome him and prevent him from acting.

Passive Influence is part of DID. It's a situation where a "fronting" (that is to say part that is in control at a time) performs an unthinking action or is emotionally swayed by the influence of another part/alter that is not presently conscious. These are one of the biggest ways that the condition flies under the radar for many. When they are close to discovering proof of their condition they will often feel an unconscious push away from it. The phenomenon is fairly easily brushed aside internally as "a gut feeling" or an "impulse" but it's observable under the right conditions.

An instance I can think of in my own life is when our survival part is trying to push people away and our emotional part desperately tries to reach out. I will often find my hand grabbing a person's wrist and clinging tightly to it without even noticing that I've done it.

In the show Elliot is compelled by Mr. Robot when he feels someone is a danger or has a weakness that can be exploited. Part of him knows he needs to do something about it and so he lets himself be guided.

The season ends with The 5/9 Hack succeeding, all the financial data being encrypted and Elliot sent to prison for (minor) hacking charges.

He knows who Mr. Robot is now and he fears him as his enemy.

Season 2 (and the book): Exploration

The first 8 episodes of Season 2 are a filter for those watching the show, many drop off. Personally I love it but I can see why it's not for everyone. Season 2 is much slower than the first and Elliot is in prison for those 8 episodes. He's also imagining that prison is his mother's house.

That daydreaming coping mechanism is largely there to add a fairly unearned sense of mystery to a character development season and make things a little more visually interesting. For the most part I don't really want to focus too much on it or the way Elliot treats "us"/"friend".

The fact is that for this season Mr. Robot and Elliot are in direct conflict but they are feeling out their landscape and trying to find common ground. They are pulling in different directions but they are reacting and responding to one another. The show uses a chess match as a visual symbol of this and in such they are keeping one another in a constant state of check. They are opposed to one another but they are communicating and working things out.

So let's start by looking at the book. The book is a recreation of the in-universe journal that Elliot keeps while he is in prison. We see him writing in it during the show and the entire thing is available, it even includes little ARG elements to let you decode the messages Mr. Robot is receiving from The Dark Army.

The book is detailed like this and it's possible to note when Elliot's handwriting turns into Mr. Robot's handwriting. There are even points where there is "blended" handwriting. It's easy to spot in the above image because Mr. Robot writes with a heavy hand and in all caps where Elliot is soft and uses lower case, in the top line of the second page "you NeeD atteNtioN aNd aRe Willing to pay a lotta MoNey to get it." you can see Elliot slipping from one headspace to another while becoming upset at society.

Even still if you look above the FUCK SOCIETY image you see Elliot's calmer handwriting as clear and flowing.

When we were in denial of our condition we poured through journal after journal and chatlog after chatlog hunting for evidence to prove or disprove the theory.

It was when I looked at our old gaming journals (we took notes in pen/pencil live during TTRPG sessions because memory issues are gonna memory issues) that we noticed similar. Cursive used in some phrases, individual letters separate on another, the letters g and y getting curled at times and not at other times.

Subtler than what is displayed above but no less real.

Season 2 introduces us to Ray the warden brilliantly played by Craig Robinson. He empathizes with Elliot because he speaks to his dead wife as a means of coping with grief and assumes that Elliot is the same.

He offers Elliot guidance by asking him to play chess "against himself" and this leads to Elliot and Mr. Robot playing endless games of stalemate against one another with deletion on the line for the loser. It's the same brain and neither side wants to lose (nor do they truly want to win, Elliot admits as much in Season 3 that he likes having Mr. Robot and misses him when he's not around) and as noted above with passive influence, the games are always guided to end in a stalemate because no matter how opposed they are as forces, they both want the same things.

So... how about the Sitcom episode?

Elliot breaks his promise to Ray and looks at the website that he is tasked with doing tech support on. It's--- not good.

Ray uses a combination of crooked cops and convicted Neo-Nazis to have Elliot beaten into submission so he won't report what he saw. Elliot cannot handle this and has a mental break and wakes up in a 90s 4 camera sitcom world.

Alf is there. Because old episodes of Alf are playing in the medical ward at the time Elliot is being treated for his wounds.

The entire time he is taking a beating Mr. Robot is protecting Elliot by fronting and forcing him into an inner-world fantasy.

Okay... so Inner-Worlds.

In the show we actually had one of these in Season 1 during the detox trip but I want to talk about it now and round back and talk more in Season 4.

Inner-Worlds are a thing within DID treatment. Emphasis on the word treatment. It's one of the more commonly misunderstood things within discussion on the condition because it's regularly reported as part of the experiences within those who are diagnosed with DID but it's important to know that the existence of the diagnosis indicates the existence of treatment.

During any adapted 3 or 4 phase trauma treatment program that includes parts work, whether this be Internal Family Systems model which is used for individuals who do not have DID or system mapping and stabilization for those who do, the patient must work on creating a "meeting" space to visualize (or sense out emotionally for those with aphantasia) and much of the work of developing safety and structure within comes from filling that space with comforts and generating communication between parts.

I'll talk more on the "conference table" in Season 4.

It is possible for those not going through therapy to create one outside of the context of a therapeutic alliance but the creation of one is an intentional act. Not something that comes free with your childhood trauma.

Elliot's trip to the inner-world keeps him from experiencing any of the beating that the body is receiving and at the end Mr. Robot earnestly says he only wanted to take the punches for Elliot, nothing more. Elliot falls against him, tearful and whimpers out "Thank you" before we are given the flashback of the day Edward picked up 9 year old Elliot from school after the fight and confesses his leukemia.

For the record, my heart swells every time I see Mr. Robot acting as a protector.

So, let's talk S2E9 and the "blending" incident.

Blending is what happens when two parts/alters are co-conscious and are present enough that they are sharing control of the body. It's an uncomfortable experience. Co-Consciousness means that more than one part/alter is actively perceiving the world at any given time.

It's more complicated than binary yes/no. Every one of these experiences exists on a spectrum and no two people with the condition experience it quite the same way but there are levels of presence that one has.

The following is me talking more from anecdotes and personal experience than textbooks. I like to be clear when I'm not being academic because I do not want to spread misinformation in my arbitrary analysis of TV shows that will get 20 notes on Tumblr Dot Com.

Front is to be driving the body, to have your inner monologue playing (if you have one, most people do, but it's not a given) and have your emotions interact with the nervous system if you are grounded enough to feel your experiences. As I said, it's a spectrum. Everyone gets dissociated at times and can just go into auto-pilot or a trance. That all still counts as being in front.

To be conscious but not front is to exist in an emotionally reactive state. If Fronting is driving then co-consciousness is to be in the passenger seat.

It's truly difficult to describe and my therapist doesn't even fully comprehend it despite her being the one who educates me on these topics. Presently as I type this I can only feel one of our system (5 parts) active and "with" me right now. She's not speaking but she's reacting. I can feel her apprehension to us typing this much about our personal life, little flits of paranoid thinking that we'll get anon-hate or that people from our former life will see this and judge us. It's a presence and exists on a gradient. She's "awake" right now but I do not consider her fully "co-con" because if I asked her to tell me what she thinks about this sentence I can feel an emotional reaction (apprehension) but not a direct answer akin to "I think you should edit out references to our journal and focus on talking about the show" (which is what I imagine she would say right now). That's the spectrum.

Closer to the front a part/alter is the more direct communication happens.

There's also "asleep" and "dormant" when they are unresponsive. Pretty self explanatory. Elliot's system has 5 parts(plus "friend") and until Season 4 we only really see Mr. Robot and the main character version of Elliot. Magda and Young Elliot show up in hallucinations in Season 1 and Young Elliot is co-con in Season 4. Magda never shows up outside of emotional flashbacks and the inner-world.

So after Elliot and Mr. Robot combine forces (though Mr. Robot is still working with the Dark Army and is trying to move in secret) they have moments where they rapidly switch and cannot keep straight who is fronting at any given time.

There's a scene where Elliot is in another room thinking to "friend" when he hears an argument in the next room and realizes Mr. Robot is in the argument. As he walks in, Mr. Robot is surprised to see that Elliot is aware when he is fronting and he trails off and they switch.

Mr. Robot says that something feels off about how they are acting and that they feel like they're overheating.

A later scene depicts Elliot phasing out mid-conversation on the subway and picturing himself in the next car observing Mr. Robot talking to Cisco while a passenger plays erratic music on a keyboard.

That is such a horrifyingly accurate depiction of something we live with that I was stunned to see it on screen. I've included it in some of my stories that go over living with these experiences but the idea is when we are stressed out, can't keep our head straight and are blended like this we tend to have snippets of music playing over and over in our head. We also get what I refer to as "static" and that seems to be relatable in support groups.

A++ for the show depicting something about the DID experience that simply does not get spoken about outside of the spaces of people dealing with it. It was the moment I knew they actually spoke to people who experience this stuff and did proper research that wasn't just media depictions and medical textbooks.

The final part of Season 2's wild ride I want to talk about is the "lucid dreaming" bit.

Mind awake. Body asleep. Mind awake. Body asleep.

This again goes into Overt DID which I cannot comment on as much as covert depictions but the idea is that Elliot trains himself to remain awake when Mr. Robot takes over. We have seen from the blending experience that he is starting to remain when Mr. Robot is active and so he tries to force himself to stay when Mr. Robot is active.

In therapy this would be achieved through trust, communication and awareness. It's said in communities that systems tend to become more overt as they go through treatment as they are able to identify lines, parts can advocate for themselves and there's better understanding of what "self" means for every alter.

In my experience there's also an element of trying to pretend to be consistent and whole. We were coming out transgender when our therapist guided us towards DID diagnosis and there was a lot of tearing ourselves apart because we needed to act in a certain way for our safety and inability to do so put us at risk of being targeted. In accepting our system we have stopped trying to be the same individual and that has lead to a more overt presentation. As I tell my therapist "we need to act out our gender expression anyway. Every action we take is a performance."

That is to say, Mr. Robot has never attempted to maintain the illusion that he is Elliot Alderson (albeit he never identifies himself. He's even surprised to learn that Elliot calls him that) and Elliot doesn't even know he is "The Mastermind".

In opting to remain hidden and conscious he gains a greater degree of control and agency in his situation.

These things get easier as you learn your condition, build system trust and allow yourself to experience that which you feel comfortable experiencing. With the example of the beating earlier, Mr. Robot shut Elliot out and took the beating for him and Elliot resisted but ultimately did not want to be present. In this episode he learns that if he wishes he could have pushed through and been there and experienced everything, albeit as a passenger rather than the driver.

Therapy also teaches how to "go into the back room" to maintain stability. A technique that lets you volunteer to not be involved in a situation. My system all use this whenever I (Dawn) perform erotic intimacy of any kind. They cannot handle the thought of associating with those acts and prior to treatment it would emotionally disregulate our nervous system if parts that couldn't handle the concept were to be present during those moments because parts of me would be trying to dissociate while I am trying to act. It would either trigger a switch, cause blending or make a part shut down and become unresponsive for a large period of time- one of our partners actually discovered our system this way. She saw us shut down during a scene and realized it wasn't just a "mood swing" as we had insisted.

Elliot learns how to intentionally open up and be present when Mr. Robot is active and because Plot happens he is shot and decides to use this skill to close himself off and create a stronger divide between parts.

Season 3: Rejection

If Season 2 was the pair working things out on a chess match where they keep one another in check then Season 3 is after Elliot has tossed the board and decided to shut Mr. Robot out completely.

The arc words are "battling in our own voids", in Season 1 Mr. Robot was always aware of what Elliot was doing but Elliot was unaware of Mr. Robot's actions and in Season 2 they were fairly co-conscious to the point of overheating. Season 3 the connection is shut down. Mr. Robot has no concept of what Elliot is doing and Elliot no concept of what Mr. Robot is doing.

This goes back to the Overt/Covert thing mentioned at the start. It's a rare thing even within a rare disorder to have that level of amnesia barriers between parts and so I can't really comment on accuracy. It's a frustrating season for me in that regard because Season 2 was doing so well at depicting something that I have lived through that going back to Fight Club tropes was fairly disappointing to me.

Season 3 is great by the way. It's a debate on if 3 or 4 is the best but it's close enough that there is a debate.

The real meat of the discussion, spare for the events of the final episode where they reconcile, is in how other people treat them and talk about their condition.

Angela Moss is Elliot's childhood best friend and also lost a parent to the disaster that claimed Edward Alderson's life. She discovered Elliot's condition during his breakdown in S1E8 and was brainwashed by the show villain Whiterose in S2E11 (I have a write-up of the psychological principals at play with the brainwashing here).

In Season 3 she acts as Elliot/Mr. Robot's handler and is responsible for helping Mr. Robot continue his hacktivist terrorism without Elliot finding out. She betrays Elliot and exploits his condition. She also tells people about it without his knowledge or consent, which is pretty fucking monstrous in my eyes.

Don't out a person. Just don't do it.

When Mr. Robot asks how she can tell who she's talking to she responds "Your eyes. You're never trying to look away." which is accurate enough that I messaged my girlfriend to be sappy and grateful towards her as the first time she noticed our condition she told me it was our eyes.

From a 2022 IM chat, shared with permission:

"it's ... well, it's [...] your eyes soften, kind of, when going to Cammie. Dawn has this piercing gaze, like she's looking right into my heart and soul. Camden is just very alert, noticing so many things but not the level of piercing. Cammie... her gaze is softer. More focused, but in a ... drinking everything in, rather than seeking it out sort of way"

and added today when I asked for permission to share the quote:

"(for the record, Craig draws his eyebrows down in a particular way that makes his gaze intense in a good way)"

The show works as hard as it can to never let the audience wonder who they are seeing on screen at any time. Most scenes where Rami Malek is depicting Mr. Robot it is a brief perspective view to remind us what the other characters are seeing before switching back to Christian Slater playing the character. There are a few scenes which involve Rami playing the character for a full sequence. One is the context for a flashback where we see a scene Slater performed through another character's eyes where they see Malek.

The others usually involve us being in Darlene's perspective to highlight her unease and uncertainty of what is happening with her brother.

The only scene where it is ever treated as a surprise is when Darlene plants a bug on Elliot's computer while staying overnight and is roughly interrogated by "Elliot", only to realize midway through the conversation "Jesus. It's you".

The camera cuts back to reveal it has been Mr. Robot the entire scene. They avoid that trick throughout the show so it has large impact when it actually happens.

I feel like that scene (as well as the scene where Elliot wears the real Mr. Robot jacket and gives birth to the 2 Stage plan to take down Evil Corp) are important for reminding that no matter how differently Malek and Slater play their roles, to an outside observer they are the same person and when he acts "out of character" it could easily just be an emotional outburst.

Incidentally you can see the physicality of the acting if you go back and watch it again.

The end of the season has Elliot, betrayed, alone and terrified for the safety of his sister; finally reach out to Mr. Robot and open a dialogue.

He even goes out of his way to have this discussion on the Ferris Wheel at Coney Island both as a Season 1 callback and as a sign of trust. Elliot admits in this conversation that he missed Mr. Robot while he shut him out and wants him to be part of his life and in the season finale Mr. Robot says that he wants the two of them to keep talking.

Elliot also finds out that the window incident wasn't his dad pushing him out of a window. They jumped. Elliot asks in a kind and soft way to Mr. Robot, representing both his protector and an element of the loving father he wished he had, "did you know?"

Mr. Robot, the one who jumped. The one who wanted to protect Elliot from Edward says nothing. But he finally feels an alliance form with Elliot.

The road to healing finally has opened.

Season 4: Integration and Fusion

So let's address the elephant in the room right away. The show uses the word "real" to describe the Elliot who existed before the show started and considers him to be the only legitimate alter. There is enough wiggle room within the show to think that is in-universe ignorance but the show does nothing to prevent the fumble at the finish line.

I want to say upfront and before I start dissecting this season that outdated models of DID believed that there was a crack formed in a person's sense of self and that healing involved restoring the identity prior to the crack.

This is 100% UNTRUE and it upsets me that people once believed it. DID is formed in childhood during a time of a person's life (between ages 4-9) where the child is taking in data from their surroundings and integrating it into their socialized survival mechanics to form a personality. The child is working out what traits it can exhibit to receive nurture, care and protection from other humans and will adapt to those processes. Attachment Theory goes into greater detail about how this relates to the formation of psychological disorders, especially personality disorders.

For a traumatized child they will find that their environments do not offer consistent and reliable safety and thus they are unable to adapt to a version of their reality where they are able to maintain stable safety. This may be horrifying forms of physical, emotional and sexual abuse placed upon a child and is often depicted as such but it can also be a confused child trying to get affection from a cold and distant parent or having a parent who abuses alcohol and becomes inconsistent in their ability to give affection and care. Child psychology is a heavy and depressing field, sadly.

The result is that the child never forms a permanent sense of identity. This is a large factor in the formation of Borderline Personality Disorder and is why DID and BPD are so often thrown together within medical treatment and diagnosis. It's at the point of which when my therapist gave me our diagnosis she presented a clinical list of "myths" regarding DID and "BPD is the same thing as DID" was 5 on the list of 6.

The point of this detour is to say that there is no original self. A person who has DID never managed to form a stable sense of identity in childhood and thus they find themselves acting as chameleons in their day-to-day life, adapting to what they feel they need to become in order to receive the things they need from their surroundings. It's why there is a stigma in the BPD community over the concept of being "manipulative". In reality people with that condition are unconsciously adapting to their environment as a survival mechanism. With DID the added layer of dissociation is there to help the self function even when they are forced to interact with materials that are incompatible with their ability to function.

Pre-show Elliot was living a fairly comfortable life but his emotional needs were not met and at the time he was alienated from his sister. He was miserable and lived in a society that he felt was crumbling. His daydreaming gave birth to "The Mastermind" to remove the threats from his reality and Mr. Robot who had been there all along went into Protective Sicko Mode and decided to expedite the process in a way only a protector's morality could.

We'll get into system roles a little later.

The point is that day-to-day life Elliot (Janina Fisher's book "Healing the Fragmented Self" refers to the part untouched by trauma as the "going about daily life" part) is not Real. He is not The Original. Those terms do not exist and are meaningless in this space.

True/Real/Orignal-Elliot is as much a construct as Mr. Robot. He's a version of Elliot who does not have to think about the trauma, he can just live a happy normal life. The kind that Elliot speaks often and derisively about in Season 1.

With that out of the way, I'm going to ignore the bad use of language and talk only about what is depicted on the screen and not said out loud. Because if you remove the misconception about real/original from the mixture, this is a perfect depiction of final fusion model healing.

Season 4 introduces us to the conference table in the inner world. A conference table is a therapeutic technique used in trauma therapy where you bring the alters/parts to a conference. The idea is that it needs to be a neutral ground where everyone is comfortable and able to share their thoughts and ideas. With practice it can be a space one can close their eyes and imagine, seeing their system and allowing communication to happen between parts.

Mine is based on the Minerals Gallery in the Natural History Museum in London. I refer to it as The Library. You didn't need to know that but I didn't want to discuss this section without mentioning it.

Elliot's is the conference room in Evil Corp where he and Tyrell spoke in the first episode.

Interestingly enough there are only 4 seats in this set. I'm not sure what the implication is here as in the scene depicted above Magda (Persecutor Alter) is scolding Young Elliot (Child Alter) for sitting in a chair that isn't his. They mention all 3 alters who are not present (Elliot, Mr. Robot and The Other One).

My thought is that this is the show going all in on the idea that Elliot ("Real") is not an alter and does not take a seat at the table. Which I have issues with.

I'll note as I did with the inner-world that this is a therapy technique and not something Elliot would just have in his mind. It's an accurate depiction of DID treatment but Elliot isn't being treated for DID. Krista is no way near close enough to be able to help Elliot. She's wonderful and deserves the world and more for how she handles things in this season but she's in the pre-stabilization phase of therapy where she knows more than Elliot is willing to accept and needs to wait for him to come around.

Speaking of Krista. Episode 7 is the greatest hour of television rivaled only by Ozymandias from Breaking Bad and the M*A*S*H finale. At present it has a 9.9 on IMDB.

The episode is structured as a bottle episode in way of a 5 act play depicting the stages of grief. This is the episode where Elliot peels back to dissociative layers and understands the truth. The truth of what his father did.

I won't type it.

I don't need to.

The next episode involves Elliot seeing Young Elliot and following him to a museum exhibit with a model of Manhattan. In Season 1 when Elliot had his psychotic break after realizing Darlene is his sister Darlene and Angela checked this location stating it was a place he used to go in times of crisis.

It turns out when he was young Elliot hid the key to his bedroom here to prevent Edward from getting in. All these years later adult Elliot (or "The Mastermind" if you prefer, which I do not) discovers it and has a heart-to-heart with his younger self, screaming into the emptiness that he's sorry for not protecting him. Sorry for letting him get hurt.

The scene is lit in the golden hues that symbolize safety in this show. The final season also takes place during Christmas in New York so it gets to show off that color palette more often which is great for symbolism and aesthetic.

Young Elliot shows that the act of hiding the key from their father was protecting him. It was fighting back. Sometimes surviving is the best you can do and you need to forgive yourself for not being able to do more.

God I love this show so much.

That episode ends with the scene I most want to just overtly show off to an audience.

I already loved the show. The final episode may have broken my heart a little with its talk of "Real" but this scene? This scene gets it.

Prior to the above video clip Mr. Robot cautiously approaches and says "Hey, kiddo". Something he always says. It's who he is. Regardless of anything else he, Mr. Robot, is designed from the father Elliot wishes he had and when he hears Mr. Robot-- no Edward's voice he tenses up in terror, allowing the above scene to take place with Mr. Robot so scared that he has failed as a protector by allowing Elliot to remember and that he cannot be there for him any longer because of who he is based off of.

Those with the condition commonly create alters who are based on the traits of those in the child's life at the time the symptoms developed. I... have experience.

The lines I want to focus on the most are:

Mr Robot: If I could go back in time and change everything that happened to you... just make it all go away...

Elliot: Then I wouldn't be me... *He turns to finally look at Mr. Robot* ...and I wouldn't have you.

The final arc of the show is where the "Mastermind" twist takes center stage and Elliot enters his inner-world and finds out that he created a peaceful reality for "Real" Elliot to exist in so that he is unharmed by the horrors of the world that is crumbling in reality. Mr. Robot, as a protector, wanted to expedite the whole hack and destruction of capitalism in order to rescue "Real" Elliot from the inner-world prison. In time he came to accept "Mastermind" as a part of the whole and not a rogue alter who was endangering the body and their "Host".

S4E13 lays it all down. An imagined version of Krista speaks directly to Elliot and explains the system and their functions. Mr. Robot a father and protector who could prevent Elliot from intolerable situations. Magda, a persecutor who blamed Elliot for the abuse. Young Elliot, who Elliot could push the traumatic situations on, a common thing that many do unconsciously in CPTSD situations, dissociating from the person the trauma happened to, disconnecting until they are just another version of self.

Elliot then says "I guess she doesn't know about you." referring to us, the audience.

Krista(*) looks into the camera and addresses us directly, calling us the voyeurs who pretend we're not a part of it even though we have been here for it all. She even claims we are on her side in getting "Mastermind" to accept he is a constructed personality who was there to lash out at the society that caused him so much pain.

"You loved him so much you wanted to keep him safe, no matter the cost."

The episode ends with "Mastermind" Elliot waking up in a hospital and reuniting with Darlene only to realize that she has known the entire time that the person we have been following throughout the show wasn't her "real" brother.

...and god damn it I hate this element of the show so much.

I'll accept that they had very little time to clean things up and needed to get a way to have Mastermind agree to the fusion. I'll even demonize Darlene and say she was being selfish and ignorant in saying something hurtful because she missed the version of her brother that existed before Fsociety.

But Our version of Elliot says that he loves her and she doesn't reply. Her disappointment and resignation causes Our Elliot to go back inside and agree to the fusion.

The show ends in a first person perspective of Darlene seeing her "real" brother wake up and that's it. I'm glad we never actually see "Real" Elliot, that feels fitting.

Here's the thing about that last minute fumble though.

Let's talk about Integration and Fusion. They are different things.

Integration is when dissociative barriers come down. The system is stabilized to the point of which the alters are capable of communicating openly, sharing thoughts, memories and experiences and every part has the ability to opt in or out as life goes on.

"Functional Multiplicity" is what happens when a system is in harmony, no memories are being withheld and the system is able to go about everyday life with minimal disruption or disregulation. It is a valid goal for trauma therapy and there's a decent amount of medical stigma around it being used as the goal and not a step towards the goal. Many clinicians prioritize the appearance of normalcy over the function of the individual(s).

Fusion is when you go the extra step and take this communication and sharing of memory and experience and as you tore down the dissociative barriers you tear away the division between parts.

A system is made up of parts that make up a whole person and Fusion is the process of all parts uniting to "become" that whole person. It is a valid and normal goal for treatment. It shouldn't be held up as the only legitimate method of healing but it shouldn't be demonized for being an option. I say this because I have seen some people in support communities get real upset when the topic comes up.

The final sequence of the show, prior to Elliot opening his eyes, involves the system at the inner-world conference table agreeing to go through with it and walking towards a cinema screen. Elliot says this will only work if we go too.

The family (and audience) sit down in the movie theatre and memories flood onto the screen and pour out until all experiences and emotions are shared in one pool and Elliot Alderson opens his eyes with all 5(+audience) alters fused into one.

It was almost perfect if only Darlene hadn't have rejected the "not real" brother.

The cinema screen projecting memories, all the thoughts and experiences being shared as the Alderson System accept their parts in the whole and agree to the process? It was a beautiful visualization of a healing journey.

There are imperfect moments here and there. There are great moments I skipped over such as S3E8 (I'm not up for talking about Self-Deletion today) but all in all it's the best depiction of DID for a main character we'll likely get on TV. It's a whole and complete narrative and I love it so much. It makes me feel seen.