#and suddenly all those plans are irrelevant

[warrior-of-sunlight]

My dad would have turned 68 today.

[riboism]

tear you apart

》 mob boss! p.sh x fem. ballerina! reader

》 wc: 3.3k

》 plot: a powerful mob boss becomes dangerously distracted by a captivating ballerina, leading him to abandon an important business deal because of his new obsession. Determined to regain his focus, he confronts her one night after a show, only to find himself even deeper entangled in his desire—and a conflict that could jeopardize everything.

》 content: swan lake ballet, ballerina!reader, mob boss! seonghwa, dom! seonghwa, gloved finger-fucking?? eventual smut

🎧 tear you apart- she wants revenge, sour switchblade- elita, into the woods- bragolin

It was now the final act of the show. Rothbart was defeated, his dark powers broken, and the swan maidens were free at last. In the soft glow of the stage, you and Siegfried danced together, your movements light and delicate, like drifting feathers. Each step felt weightless as you floated through the scene, surrounded by the gentle swell of the orchestra and the dreamy, pearlescent backdrop that bathed everything in a soft, otherworldly light. This was the most serene moment of the entire performance—yet your heart raced wildly in your chest.

Throughout the entire show, a sense of unease gripped you, following your every movement on stage. No matter where you turned or what role you played, you felt his eyes on you, that same piercing, unrelenting gaze that had been following you all season. 

Park Seonghwa always sat in the same seat, just a little off-center in the orchestra, ensuring he had the best view of you. Like clockwork, he was here every Saturday night, with his hair slicked back with precision, dressed in a long, black coat that skimmed the floor, and his leather-gloved hands resting motionless on his knees. His eyes followed you all over the stage, studying your every move, every tweak of your brow, his plump lips parted in fascination. His unblinking, stone-cold expression sent shivers down your spine, and yet, you couldn’t deny the intrigue it sparked in you. His observance of you, so focused and ceaseless, made you feel powerful—seen. As if, in his eyes, you were the only ballerina on that stage, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance. You almost looked forward to seeing him in the audience every night, that is, until some whisperings from the other ballerinas during dress rehearsal rattled you. 

"A mobster? Really? I thought those only existed in Scorsese movies," one ballerina laughed softly, her eyes darting nervously to the corner where he sometimes lingered after performances.

"It's true!" another whispered eagerly. "He's part of the Park crime family. Remember when they started cracking down on drug trafficking? Then they suddenly dropped all charges. I heard he paid off half the force. And now—well, I hear he’s eyeing the theater as a front for money laundering."

There was more truth to their rumors than they realized. After his father’s sudden departure, Seonghwa had inherited the mantle, becoming the head of the Park family business—a role he’d taken on with cold, unerring resolve. He was trusted to be the new, pragmatic decision-maker, one who wold keep the family business running smoothly. Everything had been going according to plan, right down to choosing an old, run-down theater on the outskirts of town as his next investment. 

It was a simple acquisition, one that should have been handled quickly. But one evening, he found himself sitting in the darkened theater, watching intently as you stepped onto the stage in your pearly white tutu, your sculpted legs covered in thick stockings, twirling on your experienced tippy toes, forcing him to wonder how you can move so gracefully while doing something that seemed so painful. 

Seonghwa never thought much of performance art; it simply wasn’t his world. His world was dark, brutal, and unforgiving. But from the first graceful movement, and the beautiful melody from the live orchestra, he was captivated with the world of the Swan Lake. You moved with such elegance and emotion that he couldn’t look away, each gesture leaving him more entranced than the last. From that night on, he returned every evening you performed, ignoring his obligations just to see you dance. He became infatuated with the beauty and artistry he hadn’t known could exist. 

The original plan was simple: aquire the theater, reshape it into something profitable, and then use the profits to conceal earnings. But now, the thought of disrupting your world was unbearable. Reluctantly, he abandoned the deal, his priorities now twisted by an enchantment he resented. 

From that very first performance, you unknowingly unraveled the careful fabric of his plans. Seonghwa found himself slipping away from his duties week after week, drawn back to that same old theater. His associates began to worry, questioning his judgement, but he couldn’t help it. He told himself it was just a curiosity or distraction—anything but the truth. You had enchanted him, woven yourself into his thoughts so deeply that he couldn’t bring himself to go through with the acquisition. Every time he saw you, he was reminded of what he stood to lose.

His associates were quick to notice his shift, whispering about his lack of judgment and uncharacteristic indecision. They urged him to reconsider, to stay grounded—but he felt himself slipping. Trouble was on the horizon; he could sense it. Part of him loathed you for the hold you had over him, for making him slack off from his responsibilities. Yet, night after night, he was drawn back, helpless against the spell you’d cast, unable to break free, and unwilling to let go.

Seonghwa knew he couldn’t keep living like this. His soul was burning hopelessly, and he needed to put out this fire fast. 

—

It was quiet now, the theater emptying as the final notes of the orchestra still seemed to hang faintly in the air. You slipped into your dressing room, exhausted yet exhilarated, the glow of the performance still warming you as you changed out of your costume. Carefully, you removed your stage makeup, wiping away the traces of the Swan Queen. The transformation always felt strange, trading feathers and grace for the ordinary routine of going home.

You packed your things slowly, placing each item into your bag with a practiced rhythm, already looking forward to the calm of your apartment. But as you reached for your coat, a prickle of unease returned. It was that lingering feeling, the sensation of being watched, that had haunted you all night.

The silence shattered with a sudden, firm knock on the door, catching you off guard. Your heart raced, and before you could even gather yourself to respond, the door creaked open, slow and deliberate. His face appeared in the dim light, and you caught your breath. It was him.

Seonghwa stepped in just enough for his figure to fill the doorway, his familiar dark coat draping around him like a shadow. His expression was unreadable, the same cold, composed look he always wore, yet his eyes held a strange intensity that made you feel hot.

Your heart pounded as he stood there, with his gaze fixed intently on you. You felt a flicker of fear—a quiet, instinctive warning. Everything about him radiated power, a kind of quiet danger that you couldn’t ignore. Yet, having him so close to you now felt exhilarating, almost like you were waiting for him to knock on your door. 

“I hope I’m not intruding,” He apologized, his sharp features now softening in your presence, hoping to disarm you. 

“I’m sorry, c-can I help you with something?”

He paced around your small dressing room, his eyes lingering on the little details—your stage makeup scattered across the vanity, the photo frames of other ballerinas lining the walls. Anxiety twisted in your stomach as you watched him, still unsure of why he was here. Then, he turned to you with an unreadable expression, extending his gloved hand. "I just wanted to introduce myself properly," he said, his voice smooth but distant, “Park Seonghwa. I’m from a private equity firm. I know the owner, Hongjoong.” Shakily, you reached out your hand, the leather of his glove feeling cold and unnatural against your skin. You suppressed a shiver as his grip lingered just a second longer than you expected.

“I’m Y/N.” 

"Y/N...Congratulations on being this season’s Swan Queen," he continued, his voice low and deliberate. "You’ve done very well. You must be very pleased with yourself."

You managed a quiet thank you, though the words felt strange on your lips, your usual confidence faltering under his watchful gaze. His praise should have flattered you, but instead, it left you feeling oddly exposed, like he saw more than you intended to show.

He released your hand, but the strange, lingering sensation stayed with you, leaving you both captivated and nervous.

Feeling faint, you sat down on your vanity chair. "So, you know Hongjoong?" you asked, searching for some logic behind his sudden presence.

"I do," he replied smoothly, though there was a slight glint in his eye that betrayed him. "We’ve been discussing a potential business venture together."

The truth, however, was a little more complicated. Seonghwa had met Hongjoong only once, barely enough to call him an acquaintance. From the start, Hongjoong hadn’t seemed eager to hand over his only asset to a man of Seonghwa’s reputation, especially not when rumors swirled about his intention to repurpose the theater into something as mundane as a car wash to serve as a front for his family’s business. But Seonghwa knew how to persuade, and when he named his price, Hongjoong’s reluctance began to waver.

That first night, they’d arranged to negotiate the deal, and Seonghwa had come prepared to secure the theater with his usual finesse. But Hongjoong was running late. Growing tired from standing in the lobby all evening, Seonghwa decided to sit in an empty seat during the show only to rest his feet, but your elegant movements captivated him, and made him forget who he was and why he was there. 

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you in a way that made the small room feel even smaller. Your breath hitched as his intense gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. The air between you felt charged, the warmth of his presence mingling with the lingering cold from his leather gloves.

“But I’m not here to talk about that,” He said, towering over you, “I could actually use your help in something.” 

There was something odd yet inticing about his request. What could he, a possible mob boss, want from someone like you?

“And what might that be?” You asked, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

He was so close to you now that you could pick up the warming notes of his cologne— spices, sandalwood, and a hint of citrus. You’d seen his face a thousand times before, always shrouded in the dim lighting of the audience, his expression always stoic and muted. But now, with the light catching the sharp angles of his cheekbones and his plush and perfect lips just inches away from you, he was utterly captivating. You couldn’t look away. 

"You see, I have this problem," he said, pacing slowly around you, his voice steady but laced with something unspoken. The air shifted each time he moved, the chill of his absence replaced by an intoxicating warmth as he drew near again. 

"A problem?" you echoed, your voice a little breathless, trying to focus as his reflection loomed behind you in the mirror.

"Mm." He stopped directly behind you, lowering his head closer to the nape of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "It’s you," he admitted, his tone dropping into something dangerously intimate.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Seonghwa straightened himself, meeting your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk. "You’re making it very hard for me to focus on my job," he said. His words were as smooth as they were direct. "And when a man like me gets distracted… it causes complications."

He moved again, standing to your side now, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. The closeness was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body hyper-aware of his presence.

"So," he continued, his eyes locking onto yours, "I thought perhaps you could help me resolve this little… issue of mine."

Your mind raced to comprehend the suggestion wrapped in his words. The way he looked at you left no room for misinterpretation, his meaning clear without being crass. You felt a sudden pulse between your legs, forcing you to squeeze your thighs tighter. 

"And how exactly would I… help?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa tilted his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "You’re a clever woman," he said, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your shoulder with deliberate care. "I think you already know."

—

You sat perched on your dressing table, forced to see yourself reflected in the mirror. There was a nervous flutter in your stomach as Seonghwa loomed behind you, his broad shoulders and low eyes making your breath hitch. You watched as he parted your thighs before eagerly ripping at the center seam of your stocking, revealing your glistening cunt to you both. Before you could react, he brought down his gloved hand, tapping on your pulsing clit a few times before pressing down in slow and small circles. 

The coldness of the leather made you gasp, your heartbeat spiraling in excitement. You could see your slick coating his fingers, bringing a faint shine to his black gloves. 

“Such a fat little pussy,” he breathed into your neck, the sudden warmth making a few hairs stand at your nape. He lightly slapped your cunt again, his mouth watering at your chubby, wet folds. “Didn’t think such a sweet little ballerina had something like this between her legs.” 

You couldn’t help but feel vulnerable as you took in your reflection, hardly recognizing the scantily clad woman before you. You pressed your eyes shut as he continued pulling a string of shaky, breathless moans from your lips.

“Let’s see how well this little pussy can take me, hm?” He challenged, refusing to wait for your response before inserting a leathered digit into your wet walls. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, struggling to wrap around the thickness of his glove. Seonghwa chuckled at your tightness.

“Please,” You begged, tightly holding onto his working arm. But the desperation in your voice only egged him on. He thrust in a merciless rhythm, the squelching sounds from your arousal sending blood down to his groin. 

“Please what dear? You want more?” Seonghwa grinned devilishly before stuffing in another finger, the sudden stretch sending a mix of pain and pleasure to your core. He worked you open at a brutal pace, soaking in your sweet moans as you gripped onto him tighter. 

You were slowly coming undone, your knees quivering and threatening to cave in. You felt his hand grip onto your inner thigh, holding you open as much as possible for him. It was then that you fluttered your eyes open, only to find his gaze already locked onto yours in the mirror. You felt a twist in your stomach like he’d caught you doing something you shouldn’t be doing. You quickly realized that Seonghwa had been watching you in the mirror, his gaze unwavering as he took in every tear tracing your scorned red cheek, the delicate furrow of your brow, and the way your plush, pouty lips let out the softest, most beautiful whines he’d ever heard. Just as enchanting as your expressions were on stage, they were even more alluring here as he ravished you at his will. 

His fingers were so much deeper now, hitting you in all the right places, until the tension inside of you snapped and you finally let go all over his gloved fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You sputtered, watching your wetness drip down his gloves. Exhaustion suddenly took over you, forcing your head to fall against his chest. 

“I hope you don’t think we’re finished here,” He whispered, his soft, full lips feathering over your ear lobe, “There’s still a lot of things I need you to do.”

—

You were sprawled out over the table now, your top completely discarded, leaving you in just your ripped stockings. Seonghwa liked the stockings you wore on stage. They were so pearly and smooth, and he almost felt bad for ruining them this way. He leaned down and peppered a trail of kisses under your ear, down to your collarbone, lingering over your hardened peaks briefly, before continuing down to your pelvis. 

You felt a wave of heat spread over you as he kissed around the outside of your cunt before spreading your lips with his fingers, reuniting you with the coldness of the leather. He dragged his long, warm tongue over your hot slit, groaning once your essence reached his tastebuds. 

“You taste just as sweet as you look,” He praised, before wrapping his lips over your swollen clit. He sucked and pulled, swallowing every bit of juice you offered him hungrily. 

Your back arched in bliss, your hips rolling as he gleefully lapped away at your cunt. He pressed his strong hands down your inner thighs to keep you still, your puffy pussy now spread completely open for him to devour. He savored every drop of you, like a predator that spent weeks catching its prey.

Seonghwa told himself he’d finally be rid of this infatuation after tonight and return to his duties with no more distractions, but how could he now after seeing you like this? With your body so willing, the sheer afterglow hitting your face and collarbones, the uneasy rise of your chest, and those lustful, messy moans? It all enticed him even further, and he worried he’d never be able to stay away. 

Seonghwa was at his peak now, and he couldn’t hold out any longer. He quickly sprang up at his feet, the sounds of his belt unbuckling making your core throb with anticipation. His angry, red tip pressed against your slit, making you gasp at how hot and hard he felt. 

Seonghwa pushed himself in slowly, inch by inch until his shaft was completely sucked in by you. He cursed at your tightness and moved his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth.

“Fuck!” You cried out, curling your toes as he plunged deeper into you. He fucked you hard and rough, determined to take all his anger and frustrations out on you so that he could return to his stoic self. He hated you for throwing him off his game, and he still held onto that hope that he’d finally let go of all his pent up emotions once he finishes fucking your brains out. He just needed to get it out of his system.

You winced at his tight grasp on your hips. His pace was brutal, the sounds of your dressing table rocking against the wall overpowering your desperate screams, yet you refused to open your eyes. You didn’t want to see his face while he thrusted into you with an unspoken vendetta. His gaze alone made you feel even more hot and frazzled. 

Suddenly, you felt his hand creep to the back of your head, pulling your head up by a fistful of strands. You took in a sharp breath, the pain of your pulled hair forcing you to open your eyes at last.

“Look at how good you fucking take me,” He grunted, pushing your head down farther to help you get a good look at his cock stretching out your swollen cunt. “ ‘Take me just like a good girl.” 

Your face grew hot as you watched yourself take him in, eyes bulging at his thick cock that was decorated with pulsing veins and twitched inside of you so deliciously. So drunk off his cock, you found yourself rambling nonsense as he fucked you into oblivion. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me so good!”

You felt you both were melting into each other, your breathing growing erratic and unsteady until you finally lost your composure.

Seonghwa pulled out of you, spilling himself over your wet cunt as he sucked in a breath, making sure to milk out every last drop of his seed. You couldn’t help but watch as he spread his thick, white cum over your swollen pussy lips, your body twitching from the sensitivity. 

When you looked up at him, you found his face flushed as red as yours, his mouth slightly agape, with an expression that caught you off guard. The moody, confident alpha male who had entered your room now seemed unsteady, his composure cracked, leaving him looking utterly broken and confused.

He leaned down, his breath mingling with yours for a fleeting moment before his lips finally pressed against yours. The kiss was seamless, as though the two of you had been meant to move together in this way all along. The warmth of his touch ignited something between you, a spark that quickly became a flame, and a flame that would soon become a raging fire that could never be put out.

Seonghwa's desire for you only intensified in that moment. Whatever his plans had been before tonight, they now felt irrelevant, tangled up in the web of feelings he could no longer suppress. He didn’t know what this meant for his current predicament—how this would complicate everything—but one thing was certain: he wouldn’t be letting you go anytime soon. He’s marked his destiny by letting himself be engulfed in the flames.

[mellowsaturns]

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

[igotanidea]

Choice: Jason Todd x reader

Jason and Y/N had been dating for a while now, but as of late he could hardly recognize her.

The shy and innocent girl turned into a bitch boss, confident, wearing high heels and expensive clothes, buying lingerie and going all high class.

Obviously, he did not complain, seeing her all powerful and sexy and when he got to slowly peel that lingerie off her during intimacy, but she suddenly started flying so high above him it was not good for his confidence. Confidence that was already shuttered.

***

She was sitting in front of the dressing table’s mirror, doing her hair and makeup, because shockingly, she decided she wanted to "party". She never wanted to "party" before. And he got a little alerted when she put on the red lipstick and eye shadow that made her look like a million dollars, while knowing what kind of men were regulars at the club she was heading into.

“I thought we could spent some time together—” he started hesitantly, not sure how to approach the elephant in the room. On one hand he wanted to just tie her to that stupid chair to make her stay with him, on the other – she’s never been more radiant and happy and ruining it would make him hate himself.

“And I thought you were going on patrol –“ she retorted fixing her hair and making a few flirty faces to the mirror.

“I was, but—”

“Then I believe those two are mutually exclusive, don’t you?”

“I could ditch it tonight.” He sighed, getting a little desperate. Abandoning his duties was an impossible choice but he would do it. For her. Just to convince her to stay.  

“And yet, we both know you won’t.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s okay Jason. Let’s just go with the night like we both planned, okay?” She reached for her bag and high heels and he suddenly felt like a reprimanded schoolboy.

“I miss you—” he almost whimpered. The big scary 6’0 225 Ibs Red Hood Jason Todd whimpered. And only for a second a glimpse of something familiar (concern? affection?) reflected in her eyes. She opened her mouth, raised her hand as if trying to cup his cheek –

Jason closed his eyes, waiting for the long-awaited reminder of what used to be between them—

It never happened.

Instead he heard the door closing in on him as she left and he was left alone.

Again.

Without as little as a kiss goodbye a single word of farewell, a squeeze of his hand or – truly – anything.

Just silence and coldness. He was used to it once. But when she had come into his life turning all the misery into happiness he got used to the warmth. And now, being deprived of it after tasting was hurtful and stung more than any cut or bruise he could get on his body.  

***

The patrol wrapped up around 3 am. And she was still not back In their little apartment. But the bottles were.

Without thinking, tossing his red hood helmet aside, Jason opened the fridge and took a greedy sip of beer. Then another. And another.

And then the time and space became completely irrelevant as the pile of empty bottles on the floor kept growing and his head was spinning.

She didn’t love him anymore.

He wasn’t good enough for her. Obviously.

He was a walking mess while she was out having the time of her life, getting men’s attention which she duly deserved. Men who would be better for her then him. Better than a scum coming back home bloodied and bruised, dragging her into troubles and constantly putting her into danger.

He should just forget about her. Leave her be.

She’s so beautiful and kind and sweet and innocent.

He should just forget about her and let her live her best life.

Even if it means leaving her.

Maybe he was destined to be alone after all. With all the blood and pain he left behind him, how could he ever expect anything more than loneliness and karma?

Jason reached for the nearest empty bottle and with the loud, almost animalistic roar threw it onto the wall making the glass shatter into million tiny pieces on the floor. But there was no way he would stop there. Shakily, drunkenly moving to a sitting position, he threw everything off the table. Watching as the tableware broke and not having any remorse about it. Then throwing the table upside down. It seemed like the alcohol made him act on his darkest self, pushing him to break and destroy. After all he was just that. Destroyer. A monster.

And when he almost started tearing off the couch his hands stumbled upon his phone on the pillow.

And the rage turned into deep sorrow.

Not so surprising given how wasted he was.

So maybe it shouldn’t also have been surprising that his brain figured out it would be a good idea to call Y/N and threw all of his emotions into her face.

Uh-huh…

***

“Jason?” her voice hit his ears, barely audible above the sound of club music and the crowd of people.

“Y/N—”

“Wait- wait a second I need to –” for a second she turned inaudible almost as if she was walking. “Now…” the silence that fell in the background only confirmed the previous theory “what’s going on?”

“Y/N—” his voice turned into a drunken sob, the resolve to have a proper, adult-like conversation melted like a snow in the sun.

“Jason?” Y/N became alerted and it was quite obvious even though he could not see her face expression.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!”

“What?”

“You’re always leaving me… you are never home and we used to be so close together… so w-wh-why?”

“Jason, listen to me-“

“No! No you listen to me, I am here all alone and I probably deserve it, but I still love you so much and I don’t want to lose you but if you want to break up then-“

“Jason are you drunk?!”

Unbeknown to her, Jason took a look around the apartment, taking in the pile of glass and mess he left behind.

“What did you do?” The longer he was silent, the more she knew he was wasted like hell.

“I miss you-“

“How much did you drink?”

“I don’t know –“

“How much Jason?!”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Where are you? Are you home? Just tell me you’re home and not patrolling or anything.”

“I’m home…” he slurred.

“Great. Just stay there. I have to go now.” Y/N nodded head to her company signaling she would join them in just a minute, making a carefree face as if she wasn’t just on the phone with her desperate, drunk, brokenhearted boyfriend.

“Y/n!”

“I’m serious. Stay where you are.”

“Please… please come home… we can fix whatever broke us… I need you, I want us to be us again… please…”

“Jason, just stay where you are and don’t do anything stupid-“

Those were the last words he heard before she disconnected, stepping on his poor, fragile heart. He couldn’t fight anymore, letting himself drift to darkness.

Alone…

***

It was almost midday when he opened his eyes next time. The sun shone through the window, immediately making him squirm with a groan. He had a terrible hangover and everything was too much. But the small changes that happened to magically take place overnight didn’t escape him.

Surprisingly he was covered with a warm, soft blanket he couldn’t remember putting on. Was he that drunk that it influenced and/or damaged his brain? What else did he do? Did he hurt someone? Did he--?

Oh.

He called her.

He called Y/N.

What did he say? Holy shit, did he break up with her? He couldn’t recall anything, but whatever words fell out of his mouth couldn’t have been good.

She didn’t deserve it.

He had to clear that misunderstanding out. Make her realize that he was more than just a weepy man-child and –

Ugh!

His head and eyes were killing him.

But even through heavy eyelids and pounding pain he noticed that the bottles were gone from the floor and table, the broken pieces of tableware cleared. The entire apartment seemed different somehow and not only because of the tidy, though he couldn’t capture why. And – there was also an ibuprofen and a glass of water on the nightstand and a strangely alluring smell of coffee, eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen.

What was happening?

He groaned, massaging his temples and the sound caused an audible shift in the kitchen, then the opening of the bedroom door and Y/N peeking inside. Looking just like the girl he used to know. Without vivid makeup and flashy, revealing outfit, with a natural face, innocent eyes, dressed simply in leggings and his shirt, with her hair down.

So sweet and beautiful. His angel and salvation that must have been only an imagination, cause there was no chance she was actually here after whatever shit he dropped on her last night.

“Hey….” The angel whispered, closing the curtains shut so the light wouldn’t irritate his eyes. “How are you feeling?” Soft, warm palm landed on his forehead to check his temperature. “Gave me quite a scare last night. Came here and found you drunk with all those bottles and mess and –“

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yeah, yeah baby, it’s me. Hope you weren’t expecting anything else?”

“Is this a dream….” He muttered closing his eyes, enjoying the way her touch was bringing him so much comfort.

“I assure you it’s real…”

“I’m sorry—" Jason tried to open his eyes, but dropped the attempt the moment they started watering.

“Hush… Don’t think about it now” Y/N kissed his forehead tenderly “Just rest…”

Despite the fact that she was so loving and soft and acting just like the girl he fell for, it also made him wary and confused. Was this another game she was playing? Was this just another way to break his already broken heart?

“We have to talk. Now.” Not giving a damn about her protests, he sat up straight, opening eyes and turning serious. “The hell’s been going on with you lately? Why the fancy friends and fancy parties and fancy lifestyle? Cause you being a high-class girlfriend may have so charm, but not if you’re also turning into a fucking mean girl!”

“Jason, listen I just—”

“No! No, you will fucking listen to me now!” Jason yelled, his weariness and hangover already forgotten as the rage took over. He needed explanation. He deserved it. And moreover, he demanded it. Cause if Y/N though he would just let her fool around, toy with him, lie and deceive she was dead wrong. And he was way past begging for her attention.

“Jace-“ she whimpered, quickly realizing that her boyfriend was past convincing, the sudden fear reflecting in his eyes. Good. Very good. She was supposed to be scared. Terrified. Cause now he was going to confront her and he was not taking any bullshit.

“You will talk now.” Her wrist ended in his iron grip. “Did you cheat on me?!”

“What?!” she whimpered

“Did you cheat on me!?”

“NO!”

“Liar!” he yelled, causing her to start sobbing.

“Jason, Ja-jason, please.. it was just work- and I was getting into a new role and – and-“

“Liar!” he yelled again.

“But when you called me last night and said all those things—" she sobbed and he stopped “when you said you missed me and you were lonely and –“ Jason blushed, realizing he must have made quite a fool out of himself in that conversation he couldn’t even remember. “I just dropped the whole act and –”

“Don’t shit me Y/n.” he warned, though his heart was already yearning to hug her, wipe her tears and make her feel safe.

“I’m not. I’m not. I swear… When I came home yesterday and saw you like this - God, Jason, I am so sorry baby—”

“No. No, please don’t apologize…” finally he pulled her to his chest, cradling her head and brushing her hair softly. “I did my shit too. Should have asked you what was going on instead of getting wasted and giving you a heart attack.”

“I should have just told you, instead of becoming a full-time bitch.”

“Yeah…” Jason sighed “guess we drifted apart, didn’t we?”

“I don’t want it. I never wanted it…”

“I know princess. Me neither. But now we have to figure out if we can move forward and be better.”

“We can.”

“It’s not something you can just decide on arbitrarily.”

“Are you trying to break up with me….?”

“No. But perhaps we didn’t take into consideration that dating would be hard work. So the question is whether we can put it in. And perhaps we should take some time to think about it.”

“Okay.” Though her heart was breaking she could see his point. Their relationship was messy and emotional and explosive. Constant rollercoaster. And maybe it was time to turn into adults and level the ride.  To find out whether they could work shit out and get stronger or break for good.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛!- 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐅.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭)

Words:9000 ( Slightly inspired from Azeru's Scar Audio!) Slightly altered from the real quest!

Genre: Smut

Summary: (Taken from the first meeting with Scar and Rover, Reader is Rover.) You didn't know why but you decided to go with him.

( Slightly inspired from Azeru's Scar Audio!) Slightly altered from the real quest!

Rover will remember her name as y/n l/n- Reader is Rover in this.

CW: Mentions of Hickey, Marking, Degradation, Mentions of mirror sex, Overstimulation, Bondage kink, Semi public sex, Dom Scar, Bottom y/n, Uses of nicknames ( Pet, Little Lamb, Baby?, Slut), Dirty talks, Fingering, Rough sex,

"Where's YangYang???" you demanded, staying on guard.

In front of you stood Scar, who proudly called himself the 'cruel and twisted maniac.'

"Don't worry, I don't plan to make you hate me just yet...She's safe now. Well, let's just enjoy our time together for the moment. Forget about that irrelevant person, will you? I have a lot to share with you." Scar said, tilting his head.

"W-what is it?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"To begin with...I heard you've lost your memories?" He looked directly into your eyes, a predatory gleam shining through.

"How did you know?!" You stayed on guard, feeling a chill run down your spine.

"So it's true." He smirked, a twisted expression playing across his scarred face. Oh no, you realized too late—he used one of those psychological techniques. Damn it, Rover, you idiot!

He started walking toward you, step by step, closer and closer. "That makes sense, given how fragile you were when you woke up. Or I would've questioned the authenticity of those rumors." Your mind raced. So he was the one who—

"You were following me?" you accused.

"So you noticed? Aww, I'm flattered. No need to be so on edge. By now you should've realized I'm just one of the onlookers. But out of all the onlookers, I'm the only one who came forward to meet you, with absolute honesty."

"So...?" You stepped back again, his presence unnerving. Why would you be intimidated by this guy out of all people? You took a moment to notice his features.

He was tall, with fluffy grey hair tipped with red, and numerous scars marred his face. A large patch covered the right side, another darker scar cut vertically through his right eye, and a horizontal scar crossed his left cheek. His right eye was red, his left eye grey. He wore golden dangling earrings, upside-down fleur-de-lises. His attire was predominantly red and grey. His pants were grey, fading to red at the bottom, flared. Grey garters extended from his hips to below his knees. He wore black gloves with red fingertips and bright red boots.

His smile was wide and borderline psychopathic, matching his self-description.

"Before you knew anything about this world, you were already the center of conflict."

"What do you mean—?" He looked at you as if you were a little lost lamb.

"You are the unknown variable we've been waiting for. Forces have been fighting for possession over you."

"...I'm not some damned thing! All of you are...only YangYang and the others have been—" He pulled you closer, and you wanted to push him away, but you couldn't. It was as if he wanted to tell you it was a lie.

"Listen to me, Rover. It might be shocking to you. You might need a shoulder to cry on..." His hands stroked your back, the touch so sweet it made you want to melt. Why were you feeling safe...around this man of all people?

"From the moment you opened your eyes, everyone you've met, including that girl you care so much about...they all knew how valuable you are..." His voice was like a knife.

"Ah...you are just—" He suddenly pulled you even closer. You didn't want to push him away. Part of you was already giving in. The truth—no, right? All of them did act like your friends because you were useful?

"The world is a cruel place. You're a living, breathing person, but you're just a pawn to many." His words were starting to make you cry.

"..."

"That's why I'm here. Because I see you as a dear person and I want to tell you the truth. I am so, so sorry for everything you are about to face. The truth hurts sometimes." You were just done and pushed him away.

"As if you were any different. All of you are the same."

"Hehe, I didn't expect you to be this fragile...your expressions are so precious..." You looked at him weirdly and wanted to step back.

"My goal is simple. I just want to deepen our mutual understanding, nothing more. Seeing all those people who use you makes me feel bad. I will be honest—I wanted to have a little fun with you. But I feel bad for you. The truth indeed made your eyes glossy." You felt a tear dropping down. So what if maybe that's why all those people have been kind to you? Why is...?

"You're messing with my brain...I just know it...go away or are you asking for a fig—"

"Rover, all those people who want you are going to use you for their own gain. Imagine, what if that girl befriended you to aid her in battles? What if Miss Magistrate wants you because she wants her job done easy? Well..." You began to feel like destroying everything you see. It was hard to take in.

"You are just the sam—"

"Oh dear, you are one of us, the 'black lambs,' and you have been chosen to join us in ushering in the new world. Once you discover who you really are, you will come to us—no, me—with no hesitation. The Fractsidus awaits your arrival with open arms." He came closer to your ear. "I'll expect your arrival with open arms. If you join us, join me, you don't have to get to work at the start. I will make sure you are fed well, taken care of well, even given respect. If someone doesn't, you just have to come to me, I'll take care of it." The offer was too tempting...

"What do you mean? How can I trust you?"

"So! You are considering it! Huh? Oh...you are indeed fragile, aren't you? What if I became yours?" He smiled innocently while saying that.

"Huh?" He pulled you closer, his lips almost touching yours, sending shivers down your spine.

"What say you? I'm ready to be yours to give you confirmation that I'll treat you better than those pesky little idiots who want to use you." You looked away...this felt strange but...yet, part of you wanted to be free...maybe this won't...

You faced him and pulled him a little closer to show you wanted to kiss him. He smirked and immediately pulled you into it, first lips, then your tongue.

You felt his smirk against your lips as he pulled you into the kiss, his hand firmly gripping the back of your neck. The intensity of the kiss made your mind spin, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. His lips were surprisingly soft yet demanding, his tongue exploring your mouth with a tantalizing mix of force and finesse.

As the kiss deepened, you felt his other hand slide down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The warmth of his body against yours was intoxicating, and despite the warning bells in your mind, you couldn't help but respond. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart mirroring your own.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, "See? You feel it too, don't you? " His breath was hot against your lips, his eyes dark and filled with an intense desire.

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you pulled him back into the kiss, more fervent this time. Your hands roamed up to his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers. He responded with a low growl, his hands exploring your body with an urgency that made your pulse race.

The kiss became more heated, more desperate. You could feel his need matching your own, a fire that threatened to consume you both. His lips moved from your mouth to your jawline, trailing hot kisses down to your neck. He nipped at your skin, eliciting a gasp from you.

"You're mine," he murmured against your neck, his voice a mix of possessiveness and passion. "And I'll show you just how much you mean to me."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head back, giving him better access. His kisses became more insistent, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel.

You felt his breath warm against your lips, and with a smirk, he closed the distance. The kiss was electrifying, a surge of emotions and sensations overwhelming your senses. His lips moved with a practiced, almost predatory grace, pulling you deeper into the moment. His hands roamed, one gripping your waist while the other tangled in your hair, holding you in place as if he owned you.

Your mind screamed to pull away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving more. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you granted it without thinking. The kiss deepened, his control over you intensifying. It was as if he was imprinting himself onto your very soul, claiming you with every movement, every touch.

A small part of you resisted, a whisper of doubt trying to break through the haze of desire. You managed to pull away, breathless, your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and yearning.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, his voice dripping with dark allure. "Don't tell me you're getting shy now."

You looked down, avoiding his piercing gaze, feeling a strange mix of shame and longing. "I...I shouldn't..."

"But you want to," he murmured, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. "Don't fight it, Rover. You deserve to feel good, to be free from all the lies and manipulations. Let me take care of you."

His words were like a spell, wrapping around you, making it hard to think straight. Part of you wanted to surrender completely, to let him take control and drown in the pleasure he promised. But another part, the part that still held onto your sense of self, kept you from giving in entirely.

"I...I need time," you whispered, stepping back slightly.

Scar's smile widened as he saw the conflict in your eyes. He stepped closer again, his voice a low, seductive whisper. "You liked it, didn't you? You don't have to say anything. I can see it in your eyes, in the way your body responded."

You bit your lip, unable to deny the truth in his words. Your silence was all the confirmation he needed. He reached out, gently cupping your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze.

"Don't be shy," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. "It's natural to crave something real, something intense. Especially after being surrounded by so many lies and manipulations."

His touch was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it despite your better judgment. The warmth of his hand, the softness of his lips as he pressed them against yours again—it was all too much and yet not enough.

"You don't have to be afraid," he whispered between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. "I can give you everything you need, everything you desire. Just let go."

His words were a siren song, tempting you to give in to the dark allure he offered. His hands moved with confident ease, one slipping around your waist to pull you closer, the other trailing up your back, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Your resolve was crumbling, the line between right and wrong blurring with each passing second.

Scar's lips moved down to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, making you gasp. His hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of you, claiming you as his. The intensity of his touch, the passion in his kisses—it was all-consuming, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"I'll give you a choice! A free will..! I can say those people won't give it to you. But I'm willing to give you a choice. If you want more of me...If you want this..." His voice trailed off as he unzipped his pants slightly. You felt your mouth begin to water, a primal part of you responding to the sight, but you fought to keep your composure. You weren't this shameful, were you?

"If you want, come here. Go on, choose...Which one?" He eyed you with anticipation, his words a dark temptation. You looked at his pants, feeling a magnetic pull, and began to move forward ever so slightly, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"If you walk away, nothing like this happened! I'll still take you away if you want...or...I still know you want to join, so it's no problem, Rover."

"Uhm..."

"Or you can come closer." You took a hesitant step forward, his smile widening with satisfaction. He could see your desire, but you remained rooted to the spot, unsure.

"I said closer," he demanded, his patience wearing thin as he grit his teeth.

You walked closer to him, feeling the tension in the air thickening. "Are you sure? Because once we begin, I won't let you go."

"It's fine," you whispered, barely audible, hoping it would please him.

"Louder. You do have a mouth." He traced your jawline to your lips, his fingers adoringly brushing over them, sending a wave of arousal through you. "Say it again, will you? Use the correct words."

"I—I choose you. So it's fine—please protect me?" you stammered, your voice trembling but louder this time.

Scar's smile widened even further, his eyes gleaming with dark triumph. "That's better. Now come here." He pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing onto yours with renewed intensity. The kiss was possessive, consuming, and you couldn't help but melt into it.

"Please free Yangyang before..."

"Of course, Before that I just need something."

The moment Scar's lips touched your neck, a jolt of pleasure shot through your entire body. You felt his teeth graze your sensitive skin, leaving behind a mark—a claim that made your heart race and your stomach flutter with anticipation. As he guided your hand towards his zipper, you hesitated, but only for a moment. You wanted this, craved it even, and there was no turning back now.

As you slowly lowered the zipper, your fingers brushed against the hard length beneath, making you gasp into Scar's mouth. It was hot, throbbing, and ready for you. You wrapped your hand around it, feeling the smooth texture of his shaft, marveling at how perfectly it fit into your palm. Your movements were tentative at first, but soon, you found a rhythm, stroking him with increasing confidence.

"You are such a-" You snapped your eyes opened.

"I-I wasn't..." you stuttered, trying to defend yourself against Scar's knowing smirk. But the evidence was clear - your eyes had been fixed on his cock, drinking in the sight of it straining against the fabric of his pants. You'd been caught red-handed, and there was no denying it.

Scar chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through your body. "Oh, yes, you were," he purred, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your inner thigh. "And I think we should reward that honesty, shouldn't we?"

Scar's voice was low and commanding as he spoke, his words dripping with desire. "Go ahead, baby. Take out my cock. I want to see those pretty hands of yours wrapped around it."

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing at the intensity in his eyes. Slowly, almost reverently, you reached for the bulge in his pants, your fingers brushing against the heated flesh within. With a soft hiss, you freed his cock from its confines, letting it spring up to stand proudly before you.

It was magnificent, thick and long, the tip already glistening with precum. You couldn't help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer size of it. Scar's chuckle broke the spell, and you looked up to meet his gaze, a blush staining your cheeks.

"Now, stroke it for me," he commanded, his voice rough with need.

The moment Scar's fingers grazed your clit, you let out a sharp gasp, your body arching into his touch. He watched you squirm with an intense satisfaction, relishing in the way your body responded to his touch. His fingers moved deftly over the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmured, his voice laced with lust. "So responsive, so fucking perfect." His other hand snaked around to cup one of your breasts, thumb flicking over a hardened nipple through the fabric of your shirt.

His cock throbbed in your grasp, demanding attention, but you were too consumed by the sensations coursing through you to pay it much mind.

With a sudden force, Scar pushed you down onto the ground, his hands gripping your thighs firmly. You let out a surprised yelp, but the sound quickly turned into a moan as he bit down on the tender flesh of your inner thigh, marking you once again.

He continued to tease your clit with his fingers, the pressure building until you thought you might explode. His free hand reached between your legs, slipping beneath the edge of your panties to find your slick folds. A groan rumbled in his chest as he discovered just how wet you were for him.

"Look at you," he said, his voice husky with lust. "So fucking ready for me."

The combination of Scar's bites and relentless fingering was driving you wild, your moans growing louder with each passing second. Your body writhed beneath him, desperate for more contact, more friction.

"You like that, don't you?" Scar growled, his voice thick with lust. "You love having my cock in your hands, don't you? Love feeling how hard I am for you?"

His question was rhetorical, and you knew it. There was no denying the truth of his words. You loved it, reveled in the power he held over you. His cock pulsed in your grip, and you squeezed it tighter, a small act of rebellion against his control.

But then his fingers slipped lower, finding your entrance and teasing it gently.

With deliberate slowness, Scar teased your entrance, circling the pad of his finger around your slick folds without actually penetrating you. The sensation was maddening, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves. You bucked your hips, trying to gain some sort of relief, but Scar merely laughed, his breath hot against your skin.

"Not yet, little lamb," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "I want you begging for it. Begging for my cock inside you."

His fingers left your pussy, trailing upwards to circle your clit once more. You whimpered, your body aching for more. But Scar was in charge, and he clearly enjoyed torturing you with the promise of what was to come.

"You look so damn cute like this," Scar murmured, watching you writhe beneath him. His fingers continued their maddening dance on your clit, drawing out your pleasure inch by agonizing inch. Despite your whimpers and pleas, he didn't push his cock inside you, instead choosing to torment you further.

The pressure built within you, coiling tight like a spring about to snap. Your climax washed over you in waves, your body shaking as you cried out, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. But even as your orgasm subsided, Scar didn't give you the relief you craved.

Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss that stole your breath away. His tongue explored your mouth, claiming it as his own. Only then did he finally push his cock inside you, filling you completely.

Despite your cries for him to stop, Scar only teased you more, his fingers still moving in slow, maddening circles around your clit. Each brush sent another jolt of pleasure coursing through your veins, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

You bucked your hips, trying to get him to move faster, but he merely laughed, the sound vibrating through your body. His kisses trailed downwards, from your lips to your neck, and then to the swell of your breasts. As his mouth closed over a hardened nipple, you arched off the ground, crying out his name.

"Oh,.. Scar!" you moaned, your hands clenching in frustration. But he didn't seem to hear you, too lost in the pleasure of sucking on your nipples.

Scar's tongue swirled around your nipple, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. He sucked on it gently, nibbling at the sensitive bud with his teeth. All the while, his fingers kept up their relentless assault on your clit, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You writhed beneath him, your body a mass of conflicting sensations. His cock filled you completely, stretching you deliciously, while his tongue worked magic on your breasts. And his fingers... oh god, his fingers...

With a strangled cry, you came undone once more, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. As your orgasm began to subside, Scar slowed his thrusts, focusing instead on your clit. His fingers traced lazy patterns over the sensitive nub, coaxing out every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body.

"Feel good?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Does my little lamb enjoy being fucked?"

You couldn't form a coherent response, too caught up in the waves of pleasure that rippled through you. Instead, you nodded frantically, your hands clutching at anything they could find - Scar's shoulders, the grass beneath you, your own hair.

Scar grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. "That's what I thought," he said, before resuming his relentless pace.

Scar's tongue lapped at your clit, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot. Every now and then, he would flick his tongue over the sensitive nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. But despite the pleasure he was giving you, he refused to push you over the edge.

"No need to apologize, baby," he murmured against your skin. "I like it when you're demanding."

His words were followed by another flick of his tongue, and you gasped, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer to your throbbing clit. "Please..." you whimpered, your body aching for release. "I can't take it anymore..."

Scar's tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit, swirling and flicking in ways that made your head spin. His fingers pumped in and out of you, hitting all the right spots to keep the pleasure building. You cried out, your voice high and shrill, echoing through the clearing.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," Scar groaned, his voice muffled against your skin. "Your pussy is clenching around my cock, begging for more."

His words sent another surge of arousal coursing through you. You wanted more. Needed more. But Scar was in control, and he seemed to be enjoying the torture far too much to let you come anytime soon.

As your orgasm built, threatening to overwhelm you, Scar slowed down again, teasing you mercilessly.

Scar pulled back just enough to speak, his voice a husky whisper against your overheated skin. "Not yet,  We're not done here." His fingers slid out of you, leaving you empty and aching for more. But he didn't leave you waiting long. Instead, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, pushing it deep inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, sending shocks of pleasure radiating outward from your core.

You cried out, your body arching off the ground as he licked and sucked at your pussy. His tongue was relentless, exploring every inch of you, driving you higher and higher towards the edge. But no matter how hard you begged, Scar wouldn't let you cross over.

"You're so close," he growled, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "But I want you to beg for it. Beg for my cock."

"Please!!! Ah!!"

Despite your protests, Scar only intensified his efforts, his tongue flicking over your clit in rapid succession. Each stroke sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making your legs tremble. But he wasn't satisfied with just your clit. He pushed his tongue deeper inside you, exploring every crevice and curve until you thought you'd go insane.

"You're a bad man-"

"Bad man, huh?" he teased, his voice muffled against your heated flesh. "And here I thought you liked it rough."

He punctuated each word with a firm suck on your clit, sending you spiraling towards obliviation. You cried out again, louder this time, your voice breaking with desperation. "Please... I need you," you pleaded, your body shaking with need.

But Scar only chuckled, the sound vibrating through your entire body. "No, you don't need me."

"Huh? What?!"

"No, you don't need me," Scar repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're perfectly capable of coming on your own."

He punctuated his statement with a particularly harsh suck on your clit, drawing a sharp cry from your lips. Your body arched off the ground, desperate for relief, but Scar just laughed, the sound dark and mocking.

"Oh, look at her, so sorry she can't get off without me," he sneered, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "Such a dirty, needy little slut."

The crude words should have repulsed you, but instead, they only fueled your desire. You were beyond shame, lost in a haze of lust and need. All that mattered was the pleasure he was giving you, the way his tongue could reduce you to a mindless, writhing mess.

"Please!! Ah!!"

Scar's laughter was low and menacing, his tone laced with pure, unadulterated lust. "Oh, you like that? You like being called a dirty little whore?"

His words were accompanied by a particularly vicious suck on your clit, causing your whole body to convulse in response. The sensation was almost too much to bear, but Scar showed no signs of letting up. Instead, he intensified his efforts, his tongue delving deeper into your folds while his fingers worked overtime to stretch and fill you.

"You're such a greedy little thing," he taunted, his voice thick with arousal. "begging for more. needing more."

Despite his crude language, there was an undeniable edge of excitement in his voice. It was clear that he was enjoying himself, reveling in the power he held over your quivering form.

"It's because you-!" You tried to say back something.

Scar's laughter echoed through the clearing, a dark and menacing sound that sent shivers racing down your spine. "Imagine this! IOh I know, you'd love that, wouldn't you? Tied up and helpless while I take what I want."

His words were punctuated by another firm thrust of his fingers, stretching you wide and filling you completely. His other hand never left your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud in rhythm with his thrusts.

"I'd start with your tight little asshole," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against your overheated skin. "I'd fuck you raw until you're nothing but a whimpering mess beneath me."

Scar's laughter was low and menacing, his tone laced with pure, unadulterated lust. "Then I'd move onto your tight little cunt," he growled, his voice thick with arousal. "I'd fuck you so hard, you won't remember your own name. Oh wait, You don't remember it anyways."

His words were accompanied by another firm thrust of his fingers, stretching you wide and filling you completely. His other hand never left your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud in rhythm with his thrusts.

"And when you think you can't take anymore," he continued, his voice dropping to a seductive purr, "I'll flip you over and take your mouth. I'm going to fuck your face until you can't breathe, until you're choking on my cock."

"I don't think I would choke-"

Scar's laughter was low and menacing, his tone laced with pure, unadulterated lust. "Oh, you think you won't choke on it?" He mocked, his voice thick with amusement. "You really are a naive little thing, aren't you?"

His words were punctuated by another firm thrust of his fingers, stretching you wide and filling you completely. His other hand never left your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud in rhythm with his thrusts.

"But we'll find out, won't we?" he continued, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "We'll see if you can handle everything I've got to give."

Scar watched as your eyelids fluttered closed, your body trembling under his touch. He grinned, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. "Looks like someone's about to pass out from pleasure."

With a wicked chuckle, he leaned down to capture your lips once more, this time pressing a deep, possessive kiss upon them. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring every inch with a voracious hunger. His free hand roamed across your body, pinching and tweaking your nipples until they stood erect, hard peaks begging for attention.

And then, without warning, Scar pulled back, leaving you panting and dazed. "But don't worry," he whispered, his voice a sultry murmur that sent chills down your spine. "I haven't even started yet."

You felt Scar dress you again, his touch surprisingly gentle. Slowly, he lifted you up.

"Ugh, didn't you promise to leave me alone with Rover?" His voice grew irritated.

"Why is her hair all messed up? Did you fight with her? And what happened to you? How in the world are you carrying her?"

Scar's tone was dismissive. "What? No worries, I know all the dos and don'ts. I don't need you to tell me what to do. As for my darling, she did agree to join us. She accepted it; I only gave her a choice."

"What choice? Joining the—" She glanced at you, fainted and resting peacefully in his arms like a little cat.

"Her neck? Why? You—"

"I did ask her. I didn't give my first yet, Sister. Go on now, I need to free that useless person and carry her. Can't wait to show her my bedroom."

"Keep your words to yourself. I don't want to hear anything."

"Well, you are just jealous I got the Rover to agree with me."

With a snap of his fingers, Yangyang was dropped to the side. The other person with him used her power to ensure she remained unconscious.

"Great work! Let's get going, shall we?" Though unconscious, you were having a dream. You tugged at Scar's clothes and buried your face into his chest. The girl at his side looked worried.

"What was that?"

"Do you think I know it all? Though, she must be having a bad dream for sure."

"Was this your choice?" you heard, awakening to the person you saw when you first opened your eyes.

"I..."

"Are you happy with it?"

"I don't want to be used... Please, I don't think—"

"It's fine. Be yourself. It's your choice... Y/n L/n."

"Who's Y/n L/n?"

"That's your name."

"Ahhh!" You screamed and woke up to a bedroom? You felt someone's hand on your head. You looked up to see a man smiling. Yeah, All the things you did rushed into your head.

"What is it dear Rover? Did you dream something bad?"

"It's nothing..

You felt a sudden rush of clarity as your memories began to resurface. Slowly, you remembered your name, a piece of your identity that had been obscured for so long. With a mixture of excitement and nervousness, you decided to share this revelation with Scar.

"I remember my name," you whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. "It's Y/n L/n

Scar's reaction was immediate and unsettling. He threw his head back and laughed maniacally, the sound echoing through the room. His eyes gleamed with a twisted amusement as he looked back at you.

"Oh, how pathetically cute," he sneered, leaning in closer. "You chose to tell me something so important first. You really are quite the entertaining little pet." His words were laced with a sinister delight, making you shiver under his intense gaze.

Without warning, Scar pulled you into a searing kiss, his lips claiming yours with a fierce possessiveness. His tongue delved deep, tangling with yours in a dance that left you breathless and wanting more.

As he ravaged your mouth, his hand slipped between your thighs once again, finding your sensitive clit with ease. He began to circle the delicate nub with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The dual assault on your senses - the passionate kiss and the expert stimulation of your clit - quickly pushed you to the brink of ecstasy. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more friction, more relief from the intense pleasure building inside you.

Scar broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he gazed down at you with a hungry, predatory look.

Scar's fingers plunged deeper into your slick folds, pumping in and out with ruthless efficiency. Each thrust hit that sweet spot inside you, sending jolts of electric pleasure racing up your spine.

"You're so tight, so wet," he groaned, his pace quickening as he chased your impending climax. "I can feel you squeezing my fingers, begging for release."

His words were a filthy promise, a dark vow to bring you to the pinnacle of ecstasy before tearing you apart. You could feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core until it threatened to consume you whole.

Suddenly, Scar withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your stomach, pressing your face into the mattress as he positioned himself behind you.

Before you could process his words, Scar had swiftly bound your wrists together behind your back, securing them with rough ropes that bit into your skin. The sudden restriction only heightened your arousal, making your nipples harden and your pussy clench around nothing.

"Now, isn't this a sight to behold?" Scar whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "My beautiful pet, helpless and waiting for me."

Without another word, he aligned himself with your entrance, the head of his cock pressing insistently against your slick folds. With a firm push, he entered you, filling you completely with his throbbing length.

The sensation of being stretched and claimed by Scar was overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge than ever before.

Scar began to move, setting a punishing rhythm that had your entire body shaking. With each powerful thrust, he drove deeper, hitting spots within you that you didn't know existed.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Scar groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you. "I love how you squeeze my cock."

Each word was punctuated by a deep thrust, his cock slamming into your cervix with brutal force. The pain mingled with the pleasure, creating a perfect storm of sensations that had you seeing stars.

"Look at you," Scar hissed, leaning down to bite down on your shoulder. "Taking my cock so well."

The pain from Scar's bite only served to heighten your pleasure, making your cries louder and more desperate. You could taste blood on your tongue, a metallic flavor that only added to the depravity of the moment.

As Scar continued to pound into you, you returned the favor, sinking your teeth into his neck. The action wasn't meant to hurt him, but rather to mark him as yours, even if only for a fleeting moment.

"God, you're such a wild thing," Scar moaned, feeling your teeth sink into his flesh. "Biting me like that... it only makes me want you more."

Despite the bindings on your wrists, despite the pain and pleasure coursing through your veins, you found yourself moving against Scar, meeting each of his thrusts with your own.

As Scar's thrusts grew more erratic, you could tell he was close to cumming. But instead of giving in to his own release, he abruptly pulled out of you, leaving you aching and empty.

Before you could protest, he grabbed your bound wrists and yanked you up to your feet, spinning you around to face the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, a mess of tangled hair, flushed cheeks, and glazed eyes.

Scar stepped up behind you, his hard cock bobbing against your ass. "Look at yourself," he commanded, his voice low and husky. "See how much you want me?"

He reached around to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. "I'm going to make you wait, Y/n L/n. I'm going to tease you until you're begging for it."

Scar's hands left your breasts to trail down your stomach, his fingers dipping between your legs to tease your sensitive clit. "Count for me, pet," he instructed, his breath hot against your ear. "How many times will I fuck you before you break?"

With that, he drove his cock into you, stretching you open once again. You gasped at the intrusion, your body instinctively trying to push back against him.

"One," you managed to choke out, your voice strained with pleasure and need.

Scar set a relentless pace, pounding into you with abandon. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making it difficult to focus on anything but the sensation of being filled so completely.

"Two," you cried out, your hips bucking back against him in desperation. "Three... four..."

Forcing you to watch your reflection in the mirror, Scar leaned in close, his lips grazing your earlobe as he whispered his filthy promises. His voice was low, almost a growl, filled with lust and domination.

"Watch yourself come undone under me, pet," he murmured, his hand sliding down to pinch your nipple harshly. "Watch as your body betrays you, writhing and quivering with every thrust of my cock."

His other hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles. The dual assault on your senses had your knees weakening, your breath coming in short gasps.

"Five... six..." you panted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Scar's mouth descended upon your neck, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh with enough force to draw a sharp intake of breath from you. He moaned loudly, his voice reverberating against your skin, as he felt your walls clench around him.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his movements becoming more erratic as he neared his peak. "Y/n."

His voice trailed off into a guttural moan as he drove into you harder, faster. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your muffled cries and his grunts of pleasure.

"Seven... eight..." you whimpered, your body trembling with anticipation.

Feeling your climax building, Scar intensified his assault on your senses. His tongue snaked out to lick your earlobe, then sucked it gently into his mouth, adding yet another layer of pleasure to the mix.

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, his cock pulsing inside you as he approached his own orgasm. "Come for me, . Let go and show me just how much you love my cock."

His fingers abandoned your clit, instead reaching around to circle your swollen clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you spiraling towards oblivian.

"Nine... ten..." you tried to count, but the pleasure was too intense, your mind too fogged with desire. Instead, all you could do was moan his name, over and over, as your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm.

As Scar's climax washed over him, his cock twitched and spasmed inside you, filling you with his hot seed. But instead of collapsing onto you in satisfaction, he withdrew quickly, his cock glistening with your combined juices.

Without warning, he shifted positions, positioning himself at your entrance once more. This time, however, he didn't thrust in, but rather rubbed the head of his cock against your slick folds.

"I'm not done with you yet, pet," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Not by a long shot."

Scar continued to rub his cock against your pussy, teasing you mercilessly. His touch was light, almost gentle, but the effect was far from soothing. Every stroke sent jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, leaving you aching for more.

"Beg me to fuck you," Scar commanded, his voice low and husky. "Tell me how much you need it."

"I-!!!!" He starts to blindfold you.

Blindfolded and at Scar's mercy, you were completely vulnerable to his whims. When he finally pushed into you, it felt like a dream - or a nightmare. His cock stretched you wide, hitting depths you hadn't known existed.

Each slow, deliberate thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, making it impossible to think, to breathe, to do anything but feel. Scar's grip on your hips tightened as he picked up speed, driving into you with increasing intensity.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin, your panting breaths, and Scar's deep groans filled the air, creating an erotic symphony that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. With each plunge, he hit that sweet spot within you, sending sparks of ecstasy radiating outward.

"Please untie me for-" Your pleas for release fell on deaf ears as Scar continued to pound into you, his grip on your wrists unyielding. But when you begged him to untie you, his pace faltered for a moment.

"Why?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "What do you plan to do with those hands if I let them free?"

Despite the question, Scar loosened his hold, allowing you to slip your bound hands behind your back. As soon as you did, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer.

"Please," you whispered, nuzzling your face against his chest. "I want to touch you. I want to feel every inch of you."

Scar laughed, a dark, wicked sound that seemed to vibrate through your entire body. It only spurred him on, and he began to fuck you even harder than before. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, leaving you gasping and clinging to him for support.

He gripped your waist tighter, holding you steady as he drove into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot again and again. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

When you dared to reach up and kiss him, your lips crashed against his in a fierce, passionate embrace. Your teeth grazed his lower lip, a playful nip that made Scar groan deeply.

Scar kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring the warmth of your mouth as he savored the taste of your lips. He pulled away only when you started to drool, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"You're such a mess," he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. "And I love it."

He leaned down to capture your lips once more, his kiss lingering and possessive. You could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what had just transpired between you.

Scar watched as you slid off the bed, kneeling beside him. He was still hard, his cock glistening with your combined fluids. A smirk played on his lips as he watched you lean forward, your tongue darting out to lick a trail along his length.

Your tongue traced patterns on his shaft, tasting every inch of him. The salty sweetness of his precum mingled with the muskiness of his arousal, an intoxicating mix that left you craving more.

Slowly, deliberately, you took the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. You could hear Scar's sharp intake of breath, a sign that you were doing something right.

Scar's hands found their way to your head, tangling in your hair as he guided you. With each thrust of his hips, he pushed deeper into your mouth, his cock sliding past your lips and brushing against the back of your throat.

The position allowed him to control the depth and pace of your movements, and he used it to his advantage. He fucked your mouth with abandon, his grunts and groans growing louder with each passing second.

Every now and then, he would pull back just enough to allow you to catch your breath, only to push forward again moments later.

Scar pulled away suddenly, his cock slipping from your lips with a soft pop. Before you could react, he grasped your face in his hands and pressed your mouth against his abdomen, coating your face with his hot, sticky cum.

"You look so beautiful like this," he purred, his voice thick with satisfaction. "All messy and covered in my seed."

He rubbed his cum into your skin, marking you as his own. You could feel it dripping down your chin, onto your breasts, and pooling in your cleavage. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, a potent reminder of what had just transpired between you.

Scar pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, moving lower until they found your ass cheeks.

He squeezed and kneaded the flesh, his touch firm yet gentle. His fingers dipped lower, teasing the edges of your pussy lips before delving deeper. He explored every fold and crevice, his touch light and teasing.

As he continued to kiss you, his fingers worked magic on your sensitive flesh, bringing you closer and closer to the brink.

Scar's fingers worked quickly, untying the ropes that bound your wrists. Once freed, he pushed you gently onto all fours, positioning himself behind you. His cock stood erect, throbbing with need.

Without another word, he grabbed your hips firmly, guiding you down onto his length. As you lowered yourself onto him, he groaned deeply, a sound of pure pleasure that echoed throughout the room.

"Now," he murmured, his voice raspy with desire. "Bounce on my cock, pet."

You began to move, your hips swiveling and grinding against Scar's as you bounced up and down on his cock. The sensation was incredible, his thickness filling you completely with each stroke.

"Yes, just like that," Scar encouraged, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he helped guide your movements. "Take what you need, pet. Ride me hard."

His words spurred you on, and you increased your pace, slamming down onto him with reckless abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by Scar's moans and your own cries of pleasure.

Scar's hands moved from your hips to your thighs, spreading them wider to give him better access. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as he began to thrust upward, meeting each of your downward strokes with forceful thrusts of his own.

"Fuck...you're so tight," Scar breathed heavily, his voice laced with lust. "I'm going to fill you up again, pet."

Scar's thrusts grew more erratic, his cock pulsing inside you as he neared his climax. You could feel his balls tightening, preparing to release another load deep within your womb.

With a final, powerful thrust, Scar buried himself to the hilt inside you. His cock spasmed, shooting rope after rope of hot, sticky cum directly into your awaiting cervix.

As he emptied himself into you, Scar's grip on your thighs tightened almost painfully, holding you in place as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. Your own pleasure peaked in tandem with his, sending you careening over the edge into ecstasy.

Finally, Scar collapsed onto you, his chest heaving with exertion. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, staining the sheets beneath you. It was a symbol of his possession, a reminder of the intense connection you shared.

Scar looked at you, a playful glint in his eye. "You know, pet," he said, his voice low and husky. "It might be fun to see how well you can handle things when you're on the other side of those ropes."

A devilish smile spread across his face as he sat up, his cock still semi-hard despite having just climaxed. "Why don't we tie me up and see if you can make me scream your name?"

The suggestion sent a thrill through you, the idea of being able to dominate Scar for a change. Without hesitation, you scrambled off his lap, grabbing the discarded ropes and tying his wrists securely together behind his back.

"I don't know how to do a knot.." 

Scar chuckled, shaking his head at your apparent lack of experience. "Well, I guess I'll just have to show you how it's done," he teased, winking at you.

He shifted on the bed, allowing you easy access to his body. You gingerly wrapped the ropes around his wrists, trying to mimic the knots you'd seen earlier. Despite your clumsiness, Scar remained patient, offering guidance where needed.

"I think you've got the hang of it," he said encouragingly once you'd finished knotting the ropes. "Now, let's see how good you are at using these."

Scar's voice was calm and steady, but there was an underlying thread of anticipation. "Loop the strap one more time, pet. Make sure it's snug against my hip."

You did as instructed, carefully weaving the leather strap around his waist before securing it with a final knot. Scar tested the restraints, a low grunt escaping his lips as he confirmed they held him firmly in place.

"Now," he said, his gaze locked onto yours, "what are you going to do with me?"

Scar laughed, a rich, hearty sound that echoed throughout the room. "Don't worry about me, pet," he assured you, his tone playful yet comforting. "I can take it."

His confident demeanor did little to ease your worries, however. The thought of causing him pain – even if it was consensual – made you pause, your fingers hovering over the knots tha secured the straps.

But then, Scar's expression softened, his eyes darkening with lust and something else – a hint of tenderness. "Just focus on making me scream your name," he whispered, leaning in close enough for you to smell the musk of his arousal.

"But what if your hands turn purple or bruise? What if you get hurt because of me?" Your concern was palpable, your brow furrowed in a worried frown as you gazed at Scar's restrained form.

Scar's expression turned serious, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Pet, I've been in worse situations than this," he said, his voice low and soothing. "Trust me, I can handle whatever you dish out."

He paused, studying you intently. "Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I'll wear a gag. That way, even if I do try to tell you to stop, you won't be able to hear me." A mischievous glint sparkled in his eye as he added, "And who knows, maybe I'll enjoy the silence."

Scar shifted his hips, drawing your attention to his throbbing member. Even bound and helpless, he had the ability to stir your desire, his cock twitching with every pulse of blood rushing through its length.

Without warning, he started to rub his shaft against your sensitive clit, the friction sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. "Does that help ease your mind, pet?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and carnal intent.

Despite your initial concerns, the sensation of his hard cock rubbing against your clit was too much to resist. You bit your lip, stifling a moan as you leaned into his touch, craving more of the exquisite pleasure he offered.

Scar's movements became sudden and fluid as he broke free from the restraints, his strength surprising you given his recent exertions. In an instant, he pinned you beneath him, his weight pressing down upon you as he loomed over your prone form.

"You naughty girl," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Tying me up like that. Did you really think you could control me?"

One hand gripped your wrist tightly, while the other slid between your legs, his fingers seeking out your slick folds. "Looks like someone's enjoying this a bit too much," he teased, his thumb circling your clit with deliberate slowness. "You wanted revenge, didn't you? Wanted to see me squirm under your touch."

Scar nipped at your earlobe, a sharp bite that drew a gasp from your lips. "I may have suggested it, pet," he murmured, his voice a sultry whisper that sent chills down your spine. "But you were the one who took charge."

He released your wrist, only to replace it with his cock, thrusting gently against your entrance. "Seems like you're not the only one enjoying this," he continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "Your pussy is so wet for me, isn't it?"

With each word, Scar pushed his hips forward, grinding his erection against your clenching walls. The dual sensations – the pinch of his teeth on your ear and the pressure of his dick against your slick heat – left you breathless, your body arching up to meet his thrusts.

Scar continued to tease your entrance with his throbbing cock, reveling in the slick warmth that greeted him. He shifted his position, aligning his tip with your eager opening, and without another word, he plunged inside you.

The feeling of being filled to the brink was overwhelming, stretching your inner walls deliciously. Scar began to move, setting a rhythm that was both relentless and intoxicating. Each thrust drove deeper, harder, leaving you gasping for air as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

"Fuck, pet...you're so tight," Scar groaned, his voice strained with effort. His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer to meet his every stroke. "You're gonna make me cum soon..."

His words alone were enough to send you spiraling towards climax, but it was the unyielding pace of his hips that finally pushed you over the edge.

As you teetered on the brink of ecstasy, Scar's words cut through the haze of pleasure, his husky tone sending shivers down your spine. "Want to come, pet? Want to let go and ride this wave until we both break apart?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with promise and danger. With each thrust, he seemed to grow larger, filling you completely. The sensation bordered on painful, but it was a sweet ache, a reminder of just how deep he could reach within you.

"I'm going to breed you tonight, pet," Scar rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "Fill this pretty cunt with my seed until you're overflowing with it. You ready to be claimed, to be marked as mine?"

His filthy words were the final push you needed, sending you careening into oblivion

The entire night was filled with lustful love, wet noises and moans, He was louder than you thought. As a joke he revealed that anyone can come if noises were made. The door wasn't locked.

No one came, But you didn't care to hold noises. He kissed you so much that you felt safe...

Joining the Fractsidus...Was it Mistake or Was it the correct choice?

That's up to you to decide.

[ivesambrose]

2023 𝓜𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓼 🫧

1. 2.

3. 4.

HAPPY NEW YEAR and my new year gift to you all. You thought I'd forget huh? 😉

Choose the gif / gifs you feel intuitively pulled towards the most ✨

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at jovescorpioreadings@gmail.com with your name and query 🌙

Services offered

Winter & new years readings

Feedback

Thank you for the tip 🌹

Gif 1

Themes :

Expansion, learning and exploration.

Messages :

You'll be feeling a lot more youthful and playful compared to the previous months. Like you've been serious and taking things to heart for so long and feeling like Eustace Bagge from Courage the cowardly dog most of the time but now you feel more like Bugs Bunny. This is the best analogy I can give.

Its your turn to inspire the people around you or those who get to meet you this year.

Some of you might pick up cooking as a hobby or profession or would want to start experimenting with recipes at home or better eating in general instead of eating out.

You'll be showered with compliments a lot this year so if anyone tries to dull your shine you know it's irrelevant.

You'll have some decisions to make in terms of career / study opportunities and you will feel indecisive at first as to which is the better option but trust in yourself to choose the best one.

You'll be getting out more or would simply be on your way to something that leads to a lot of financial bliss.

Things will take off soon and suddenly maybe even sudden travel plans and receiving everything at once that might seem overwhelming and you might get anticipation anxiety, certain jitters or just worrying about what's ahead or even improper sleep. But things will be alright. Keep your focus on the bigger picture.

Make that vision board for the love of God.

Romantically you'll have really high standards. Yet I see you nitpicking yourself. Stop that! (pretty please) I do see you being offered love by someone head over heels for you but you'll take your time opening up and be fixated on yourself and your goals for the most part so perhaps a slow burn in that department or you'll just relish in finding a sense of yourself and the career you've always wanted this year.

Gif 2

Themes :

Dreams, imagination, subconscious, spirituality.

Messages :

You'll be focused on the positive and positive only. Seeing things in your favour. Feeling more optimistic, manifesting friends with the same mindset and in turn finding more clarity. I see that some of you have literally put your foot down and decided that, "nope. Show me how good it can get."

You've matured so much and are at this point rather unfazed by the ups and downs life throws at you. You've always made or will be making peace with yourself. That you don't need to plaster a label on your personality and niche yourself down to be more palatable. You're a mix and match of several things and that's perfectly okay.

You may inherent some wealth. Some of you might move to a new house or redecorate your house in a way you've always wanted. You'll feel like you've achieved something tangible this year that you're really proud of.

There may be a moment where you look back at the past and judge yourself harshly. Please refrain from dwelling in this.

You'll be educating yourself on a certain topic you feel drawn to. Possible topics I'm seeing : how your subconscious works, neuroscience, mythology, language, music, skin (dermatology or cosmetology)

I see you letting go of your sorrows because you have faith that what's yours won't pass you by.

A lot of vivid dreams and possible precognitions. Learning to lucid dream as well.

Romantically I'm sensing there's someone that matches your energy. They will end up being your muse or you'll end up being theirs. You'll grow closer when you least expect it even though you'll intuitively see it coming.

Gif 3

Themes :

Overcoming a dark night of the soul, curiosity, collaborations and connections.

Messages :

Oh you're walking away. Literally. People, places, situations, mindsets, mostly manipulation. It's like you finally decided to pack up and leave and the right opportunity showed up for you to do it. I see relief after grief.

You may be managing two jobs/income sources/multiple daily life things. At first it might be difficult but you'll soon get the hang of it and also find time for yourself.

I see some of you getting into skincare and wellness. Even fragrances? Things that make you feel calm and are therapeutic. You have neglected yourself for a long time so now that you've finally decided to make yourself priority little things like this feel like therapy almost. As if you're pretending to be in a vouge beauty secrets video just for yourself.

I would like to remind you, if no one has. I'm very proud of you.

There will be a lot of boundaries you'll establish this year. Be mindful not to end up being too sharp tounged to people who really do mean well. Not everyone is out to get you.

Things are changing this year and even if this change feels uncomfortable due to its newness. Its something you've been wanting. Also, improved finances. Sudden windfall even. Making the right connections that lead you to your own growth be it personal growth or growth in business or otherwise. By the end of the year you'll feel like you have more than enough. That you don't need to feel on the edge all the time. Like the bright sunny morning has finally come after a long stormy night.

Gif 4

Themes :

Self expression, travel, foreign cultures and strength.

Messages :

I can hear Freddie Mercury sing, "I want to break free." loud and clear near my ears.

I see you rebranding and reconstructing yourself. It reminds me of Maxine looking at the mirror and saying, "I will not accept a life I do not deserve."

I actually see that something that has been challenging for you suddenly just being swept away. Like you really don't have to physically exhert yourself so much. Drop the baggage my loves. Not yours to carry this year.

Its okay to manifest or seek the easiest ways. Simplify things for yourself.

I see a lot of you just realizing your worth and falling in love with yourself. Looking the way you want, dressing the way you want, courting yourself and taking yourself out on dates to the point your standard is you yourself. Honestly? Truly? Love that for you.

You'll be very determined. Like nothing stands in between you and your desires. You know what is yours. Period.

You'll realize how a simple perspective shift and not forcing yourself to do something or reacting is the key to getting what you want.

Some of you will love to document moments for yourself a lot. Maybe invest in a Polaroid camera or digital or point and shoot camera for yourself.

There's so much creative spark around you, I just see you going at with no desire for perfection. Simply fun.

You'll reap your rewards especially monetary. And have several projects to look forward to. One symbol that might follow you are spiders or spider webs or little stars when something good is about to happen.

Romantically? Oh you will be pursued alright but why am I getting y'all just don't pick up on hints? I'm literally hearing the song Loco by Itzy for y'all. So you'll be having an impact on maybe many people but you'll be oblivious to it. I think you're choosing peace and harmony so you'll rather want to be around who feels the same and go with the flow.

If you're already taken I just see more harmony and cooperation in your existing relationship.

[cienie-isengardu]

Cracked Mirror of Black, Cold Soul, p.4

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

Shang Tsung prized himself as a man that needed only a few hours to figure out the people around him. It didn’t work out with Damashi, but that was an understandable exception. Everyone else though? Piece of cake. 

Queen Sindel? A desperate mother awaiting the miracle cure, grieving wife blaming everyone else for her tragedy, ruthless empress and naive woman in one, who had no idea how life tasted beyond her palace’s walls. Princess Mileena, torn apart by her doubts and forbidden love, so eager to prove herself, so afraid of failure. General Shao, no less naive than the queen, no less full of his ego and military bullshit that made Shang Tsung see a point in Havik’s endless tirade about oppression of the masses. They all were nothing more than pawns he put on Damashi's chessboard with a few words here, some sweet-talk there. 

He thought the same about Lin Kuei Grandmaster. Just another easy catch. It did not occur to him then why his beloved - treacherous - Damashi, knew so much about the man. Why, when she spoke about Sub-Zero, her voice carried a warmth Shang Tsung had never felt when they discussed other people, much more vital to their plans. 

It was easy to say the right words, when Damashi prepared him and Quan Chi so well for the meeting with Lin Kuei. But there was no more Damashi he could trust, no more wisdom he craved like a thirsty man would worship the smallest drop of water.

What once felt as just an easy temptation, now was a conundrum he had no idea how to solve. 

It took him weeks to see patterns in Sub-Zero’s behavior, which infuriated him to no end, but couldn’t be helped. After all, the man’s visits were irregular, and so often happened behind his back. He never could be sure what disappeared from the deadening shelves, what secrets the man looked for when traveled the vast catacombs tunnels. All Shang Tsung knew was that Sub-Zero came and went as he pleased - no deadly trap nor his own magic could stop the Lin Kuei Grandmaster apparently.  

But the longer Sub-Zero lingered on the island, the more he understand about the intruder. And lately his Maybe-Ally-Maybe-Not lingered more and more. To Shang Tsung’s joy and irritation equally. 

As far as Shang Tsung remembered, once he left his hometown, he was always alone. Even as Sindel's trusted man, he lived all by himself, far away from the luxury palace and treacherous court. Something the foolish queen took as a sign of his humble nature when in truth letting people into his private space made him feel sick. He wasn’t afraid of people, quite the opposite. There was fun in gaining the trust of fools, in leading them the wrong way. To see how far he could push them before they regretted their good faith. To notice the patterns in their behavior and use that, exploit, play on their fears, shatter the dreams. All the same he was exploited in the past. No, Shang Tsung was not afraid of people when they came into his life and walked right away. But sharing with someone his home, eating from the same plate, letting an intruder to become something less unknown, something almost tamed made his skin crawl. 

The longer Sub-Zero stayed at his island - not hidden between shelves, not walking from shadow to shadow, but openly in sight, the more aware Shang Tsung became of his surroundings. There was an incomprehensible need to impress the other man and everything seemed to work against the sorcerer. Suddenly all the dirty dishes forgotten for days stressed him, the foul smell of his laboratory irritated the nostrils. The great, rich rooms were too messy, the corridors too dusty, the pantry too empty of food.

Sub-Zero said nothing of those. But his eyes always narrowed at the sight of each imperfection and to Shang Tsung’s dismay, the cryomancer seemed to see everything, no matter how small, how irrelevant was the sorcerer’s shortcoming. It was a drastic difference to living under all-seeing eyes of Damashi, when the smallest praise made his heart beat furiously fast, when the tiniest smile warmed his black, cold soul like a sun warmed the frozen earth after a long winter. 

Those two were alike like day and night, and yet both captured Shang Tsung’s attention, both made him eager to prove his worth, to impress. With Damashi, kindness was a wicked spell that possessed the sorcerer’s mind. There was a hidden goal, but he was a bewitched fool to see it until too late. With Sub-Zero, Shang Tsung had no idea where this weird fixation came from. The man was a rude, cold bastard. Never impressed, never amused, never truly smiling. Sharing the secrets of others only to steal from Shang Tsung his own. 

The Lin Kuei Grandmaster resembled him a wild beast. Cunning and dangerous, not yet ready to attack but at the same time, not tamed enough to feel safe around.

Shang Tsung liked to think putting up with cryomancer was a pure pragmatism on his part. Sub-Zero did save the sorry asses of Shao and Reiko and their loyal officers, when the foolish General got caught by Sindel and imprisoned. Shang Tsung did not even think twice about his allies when escaping the prison because why should he? Shao wasn’t going to risk his life to save the sorcerer, and so would not Quan Chi or Nitara or Rain or Havik. The Lin Kuei Grandmaster however did, either to amuse himself by breaking into the most impregnable place Outworld had or understood they all needed to stick together against the Fire Lord and his pitiful yet powerful allies. The alliance with Sub-Zero had its merit and one could never be sure when such an ally would come in hand. Not that Shang Tsung planned to get caught any soon.

He liked to think he was the smart one in the room, the pragmatic tactician setting traps for a wild beast so he could tame the cryomancer and use for his own purposes. But the last events taught him a precious lesson: arrogance led only to failure and there was no need to repeat the same mistakes. Who was the hunter here and who the wild beast was a blurred line. Because the same as he tried to exploit the cryomancer, Sub-Zero lingered at the island to asset sorcerer’s weakness, to find out the littlest crack in his self-confidence and break in all the same as he broke into the impregnable fortress of Lei Chin Prison. 

It was a game; dangerous and exciting, promising a worthy reward… but only if won. 

For each sweet promise of revenge, Sub-Zero had a cold reason to not trust again. For each offer to destroy Shirai Ruy came a harsh grunt to fuck off from Lin Kuei matters. For each complaint about the mess, the sorcerer hissed and puffed like an angry cat. For each little secret of others, Shang Tsung needed to bargain and pay dearly for it.

They fought over petty things, they argued over shared ambition, and then ate from the same bowl, and lived in the same space. Like it was the natural order of things. It felt wrong how right it was.  All because one stubborn cryomancer walked into Shang Tsung’s life and in spite of everything, still didn’t walk away like he should. 

The sorcerer never had before a significant one, or friend nor even a roommate. He was not used to sharing the same living place with anyone… well, maybe beside the diabolic cat that once walked into his life without invitation. 

(But the cat was a whole different story that he still had a hard time to believe in sometimes.)

The presence of Lin Kuei Grandmaster drove Shang Tsung mad. It made him feel better. Above everything else, Sub-Zero simply confused him as hell. 

[swallowtail-ageha]

I was thinking yesterday about all the speculations about where the workshop umbilical cord came from, and i have suddenly rembered a post where someone tried to argue that it came from Maria and it was the cause of her suicide and. I mean. I do think its an awful theory because it would cheapen by maximum her entire storyline and would just thread Arianna's again, but i do think that something like that might have been planned in the early stages of developement.

Maria, likely, never existed as part of the original plan of bloodborne and was just a dlc addition. There *was* the subject of Gehrman's disciple, but due to them being ambiguously gendered in the main game and maria herself having zero other proof of being a thing in game files, i think they just took the apprentice, the doll whom they didnt explain the origins of, and conflated the characters to create her.

Anyways, this established, i have been looking at cut content and well. We do know that the doll and the vilebloods had a serious connection even in the early stages of development, not through Maria, but through Annalise herself . In very early in-game files, some of Annalise's voicelines are dubbed by Evetta Muradasilova, the Doll and then Maria's voice actress (source under the cut). I do think it was likely that Annalise was supposed to be the woman the Doll was based upon (and Annalise herself in those lines acts more meek and sweet), whom had an unspecified type of situationship with Gehrman.

The last piece in this puzzle is the Workshop Umbilical Cord itself, which in the 1.0 description of the game is said to originate from "The Child Of The Vilebloods", implying it was Annalise's kid and the reason why the Church raided Cainhurst.

So likely Protomaria was supposed to have had the cosmic impregnation and (supposed) death due to it which caused Gehrman's spiral as a plotline, but due to Cainhurst losing most of its in game importance and cut storylines, they decided to split her into Annalise and Maria, and honestly (aside from Cainhurst being main plot irrelevant now), i can't even complain too much about it

I... genuinely don't know where i want to go. This is just heavy speculation, but i do think it's fun in general to analyze what made it in game, what didn't make it, how things changed and what was the original vision of the game. Its a fun exercise

As a final note, it is interesting how in canon maria, who arguably (if her bossfight is to be used to extrapolate the powers she had when alive and it wasn't just kos fucking with her) looks to be more attuned power wise to the pthumerians compared to all the other cainhurst women, seems to be completely estranged from the cosmical impregnation storyline herself. Its almost as if she, trying to distance itself from the gendered violence that she would have been doomed to by her sheer existance as a cainhurst woman, threw herself into the byrgenwerth research first and then healing church research, wanting to find another method to contact great ones that didn't mean selling one's womb (and sanity) to them, only to end up inflicting that same bodily autonomy violation on kos and the patients of the research hall

(Thank you val for giving me the link)

[losingherface]

Drums

ellie x fem reader

warnings: implied sex

Info: Reader is annoyed with Ellie’s spending habits. When Ellie buys a drum set, reader thinks Ellie has no idea what she’s doing with it anyways.

•

It was a stressful afternoon, your classes ended later than usual and you were nearly fired from your job. Although the day wasn’t going as planned, you were proud to come home to your longtime girlfriend Ellie and your shared one story home.

Ellie, on the other hand seemed like she was having a lovely afternoon. Her legs were propped up on the ottoman with her laptop on her thighs and her favorite show playing on the Tv.

“Heyyyyy.” She said loudly, excited by your presence.

“Hi.” Ellie had sensed your low energy.

“Come on.” She patted the couch for you to sit and removed her laptop so you can rest your head in her lap. It was the typical ‘I had a bad day’ routine.

So you did just that.

“What’s the matter?” She asked.

“nothing. I’m just tired. What were you up to all day?”

“I’m glad you asked…Let me show you.” Ellie had a big smile on her face which worried you a little.

you lifted yourself off of Ellie and watched her slide into the nearby room. Suddenly, you hear her slide out a set of drums, the metal sounds and bars scraping the ground. Your eyes widen.

“Here it is!” She gestured her hands showing off her drum set.

“Ellie. How much was that?”

“Almost $1,000. But it was worth it.”

“Ellie, you have to return it. You get into these random bursts of energy and you wanna do new things and then you end up giving it up. They’re not worth it.”

You and Ellie had an argument every other month surrounding her spontaneous money spending. It was terrible. She was incredibly irresponsible with money.

Last month she purchased what was considered one of the best coffee machines on the market, nearly 800 bucks. She hates coffee. The only reason it worked out was because you love coffee.

“Ellie, do you even know how to play those? Or are we gonna have to spend more money on lessons.”

“I know how to play drums. And, this wasn’t a random purchase.”

“This wasn’t random? So why’d you get it?”

“It’s been a long time since I played.” She says playing with the drumsticks.

“So it was random.”

“do you want me to play a beat for you or something?” Ellie was getting tired of your frustration and wanted to show you better than she can tell you.

“Yes. I would LOVE that, Ellie the drummer. Please play for me. Ummmmm play (any favorite rock song of yours).” You were getting obnoxious.

Ellie just silently chuckled-sighed. You sat on the sofa, hands resting on your legs waiting to be blown away.

Ellie fixed her hair from being in her face, she also took off her large flannel exposing her white tank top and sculpted arms.

She sat down and licked her lips quickly. She began playing your favorite rock song effortlessly and at ease. Your childish grin began to crumble as you were amazing and almost aroused?

Her head bangs and minimal sweat running down her arms was starting to make you wild. Ellie would take brief breaks from head banging to licking her lips.

You thought about a lot of things but one of the main things you thought about was why she hadn’t told you about her skill. You knew she could kinda play the guitar but she was excellent at the drums. She also looked so good playing that in a way it made you intimidated as if it was the first time you two had ever spoken.

Quickly though, the drumming had came to a stop and you were in a mixture of feeling embarrassed and turned on.

Ellie looked at you with one of those I told you so smirks.

“So how’d I do?”

“….You can keep them. Seriously, I didn’t think you could play that good. When did you learn?”

She stood up and walked over to you, sitting down and pulling you in tightly.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face. Why don’t you ever trust what I say?”

“Look around, Ellie. We have so many unused, irrelevant shit in this place because of you. But I don’t care right now.” You said trying to give her kiss.

“Okay, this weekend we’ll have a garage sale. Ok? All of the stuff we don’t use, we’ll try to sell it.”

“ok….we can do that. Before we start collecting everything can we please go to the room, you’re driving me crazy.”You put your hands in a praying gesture, begging for her touch.

Ellie laughed and grabbed your hand pulling you up and the two of you enjoyed the rest of the evening.

•

a/n: a little shorter than usual (i think?) I’ve been busy trying to get my life together but i’ll keep posting ofc. My love for writing about ellie will never die i fear thx 4 reading tho ! <3

[switch]

Hi Switch! You're the Moriarty Expert I trust the most, so I thought I'd ask. Can you explain the reason you dislike Ruler Moriarty as if I'm an idiot/have little FGO knowledge? I play the game, but I barely know anything about meta, writers, or any sort of controversies and I figured you'd be able to give an objective rundown of why the character is bad for someone who might not get any out-of-game context. If you don't want to that's okay too!!! Have a good day either way

uhh to put it in the simplest possible terms, and with an immediate clarification that this is not about ‘he’s cringe’ or ‘i don’t think he’s hot’, there were three different ingame side-stories which all happened about 2 years before ruler ever released, and these side stories set up that there was going to be a Plot Event involving two different characters (sherlock and enkidu, we don’t know if these plots were planned to intersect or not), and moriarty was heavily involved in both. the basic setup was:

1. moriarty wanting the main character to trust him over sherlock if anything happens, being concerned that sherlock would be willing to do something extreme to save humanity that moriarty doesn’t want him to do (to clarify moriarty isn’t good in this situation and sherlock isn’t necessarily evil it’s just a whole thing i won’t get into here), suppressing the protagonist’s memories of this conversation so sherlock doesn’t get suspicious, and then he has a very vague and open-ended speech at the end about what’s gonna happen next.

2. moriarty outright saying he’s planning to turn enkidu into some kind of weapon and isn’t going to give the main character a say in the matter, and having a vague open-ended speech about what’s gonna happen next

these side stories are still in the game. they can still be read. but at some point, the culmination to the sherlock plot was pushed to happen much earlier in the writing process because the original chapter it was slated for got bloated, and some rewrites happened…

so after 2 years of being excited to see those stories play out, what we actually got was, uh, just ruler. all of a sudden. this new cooler younger moriarty who is an extremely different character just showed up with no foreshadowing because they did not have time to foreshadow him, made holmes kill himself, and… that was it. moriarty himself did not factor into this chapter at all. him being worried what sherlock was gonna do that he didn’t want him to? erasing the protag’s memories? enkidu? not relevant at all. moriarty’s side story i mentioned up there, which was supposed to be a prelude to this plot event, wasn’t even made universally available to players who don’t have him for this chapter (they usually do this for side stories relevant to main chapters), it was suddenly so irrelevant.

moriarty got a followup side story after this that… still didn’t address any of the still hanging plot threads. it’s just him talking about how he’s sad that sherlock is dead, but also sherlock is definitely going to come back since he killed himself at a recreation of reichenbach so obviously that didn’t kill him (okay). no open-endedness. a lot of moriarty fans felt like it read like a character retirement. and also kind of just like a commercial for whatever new sherlock unit we’re probably going to get down the line. absolutely nothing like his previous ones. the only acknowledgement of how weird this all is was just him going “oh, it just happened sooner than i expected” which frankly feels like the writers just looking directly at the audience to wave it away.

and, more infuriatingly, an interview with the writers shortly after (the same one that confirmed the rewrites/early sherlock plot happened) outright said that yeah, ruler wasn’t originally part of the plan, they kinda just made him because they wanted to see a young moriarty and decided to use him. they also stated that young moriarty still had a role to play in the story (he also blew up at the end of that chapter), which they never do for characters? which, like, okay, what about moriarty?? the guy whose dropped plots you can still access in the game??

so yeah anyway it’s been 2 years and moriarty is still in hell. i mean they still use him in marketing once in a while given he was one of the most recognizable fgo originals, but he never gets to show up in any events without being attached to ruler, despite everyone insisting at the time that he definitely wasn’t functionally being replaced, and all the relevancy is on ruler as the Real Main Story Character, so you can maybe understand why moriarty fans who actually read those side stories and that interview feel like we got shafted just so they could sell a new, coincidentally more conventionally marketable unit. so naturally we’re gonna be kind of pissed off by the character they did said shafting with.

also as more of an aside, moriarty is a really bad unit gameplay wise who hasn’t been buffed in like four years (and his only two buffs were actually kind of bad but that’s getting picky), and ruler is a lot better than he is. moriarty didn’t even get a pity buff or anything, so that’s salt in the wound. a bit more subjectively, ruler enjoyers are also chronically really bad at tagging him distinctly from moriarty so if you want to look up fanart of moriarty but not ruler you basically go to hell forever. moriarty even has a nickname thats contextually unique to him (shincha) but it gets used for ruler so much against all sense you can’t even use that to avoid him, it’s so bad. i filtered everything i could think of and i still just had to stop going into moriarty’s tags on here after ruler happened, which just makes me sad.

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: Charlie Bucket (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory)

Requested by @comma-after-dearest

Favorite thing about them: What a kind, loving child he is. Even though he gets just one candy bar a year, he offers to share it with his parents and grandparents; when the family is starving, he refuses to let his parents give their food to him; and when he finds money in the street, he uses just a small portion of it to buy chocolate for himself and plans to give the rest to his mother. Little details like this make him truly deserving of his eventual good fortune.

Least favorite thing about them: Well, he is a bit of a bland character, and in the book he effectively earns his happy ending at the factory by doing nothing. His main purpose is to be a self-insert for child readers. It's no wonder that the 1971 film makes him slightly more flawed and allows him to make a mistake at the factory (sampling the Fizzy Lifting Drinks), only to make up for it in the end (giving Wonka back the Everlasting Gobstopper). Or that the 2013 stage musical makes him (or her, in some performances) an aspiring inventor who impresses Wonka with his/her creativity as well as goodness. Even though I haven't seen that musical yet, just read about it, I especially like that idea.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I love chocolate.

*I adored my grandparents when they were alive.

*I eat a lot of cabbage soup (for the health benefits, though, not because of poverty).

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm not a little boy.

*None of my grandparents ever lived with me.

*At his age I was never quite as well-behaved or unselfish as he is.

Favorite line:

From the 1971 film, when he's trying to be brave about not finding a Golden Ticket:

"You know, I'll bet those Golden Tickets make the chocolate taste terrible."

brOTP: His parents and all his grandparents, especially Grandpa Joe, and eventually Willy Wonka.

OTP: None until he's older.

nOTP: Any adult.

Random headcanon: As the new owner of the chocolate factory, he'll get in touch with another suddenly-famous boy, James Trotter from James and the Giant Peach. (In the latter book, before the giant peach lands in the ocean, it crashes through a famous chocolate factory and sends a flood of melted chocolate into the streets: I think we can safely guess that this was the Wonka factory.) James and his insect friends will raise money to cover the damage the peach did to the factory, and Charlie will create a peach chocolate bar to commemorate their adventure.

Unpopular opinion: I don't think I have one.

Song I associate with them:

"Cheer Up, Charlie" (even though it's sung to him, not by him)

"I've Got a Golden Ticket" (even though he only sings part of it)

Favorite picture of them:

These assorted illustrations:

Peter Ostrum in the 1971 film:

Freddie Highmore in the 2005 film:

This boy actor from the 2013 stage musical:

These little girl actresses in the most recent UK tour of the musical. I know some people complain about this "woke" casting, but I like the fact that this tour had girls alternate with boys in the role and let the character be a tomboyish girl in some performances. "Charlie" is a unisex name, after all, and Charlie’s gender is irrelevant to the story.

[solradguy]

Mr. Rad Guy, I've wanted to get your opinion on something for a while now, and finally snagged what I was looking for on twitter. I normally don't pay any of those transphobic Bridget discourse peddlers any mind, but they bring up her appearence in the canon pachinko game Vastege as supposed "proof" that Strive's story direction for her is a contradictory retcon. This game's plot takes place just three months before Xrd's, and they claim that through her voicelines she is still insisting sternly that she's a man and not to call her cute, but also that she STILL hasn't broken her village's superstition at this point in time. This is the only image they ever have as so-called evidence, so I wanted to see if you know if these lines are legitimately in the game, scrapped content, or made up altogether. I don't trust these lunatics as far as I can throw them when it comes to telling the whole truth 🤨

This screenshot is from same manuscript of dialog that is in the lore server archives and in the GG VXT archive pack that I compiled and uploaded to Archive.org. As far as I know, these lines were all used in the game and no unused lines have been (or even could be) datamined. Two of the lines here are highlighted so I'm assuming they're the ones these dorks are using to try to prove their point. I've translated them.

First line:

I want to break the village's rule/law*, and return to the village as a young man.

*In the official localizations I think they might translate this as "tradition" or "superstition" instead of rule or law.

"Young man" in that line is 男の子 (otokonoko). Do not let anyone convince you Bridget is using the other otokonoko there (男の娘；"young man with a feminine aesthetic"). They like to do that a lot, argue that it's the one that uses 娘.

Second line:

Cute is uncalled for... I'm a man.

In conclusion: Yes. Bridget is using almost 1:1 recycled dialog in Vastedge that she used in XX and the spinoffs. The Twitter grifters' Google Translating was correct this time.

Vastedge's plot may take place only 3 months before Xrd, but Vastedge itself came out in 2013—8 entire years before Strive released in 2021. A lot can change in 3 months in real life, but after almost a decade most people are entirely different altogether (wrt Daisuke and his plot decisions). Also it's a friggin pachislot machine lmfao Like, are people really expecting something as earth shattering as a character as irrelevant to the general plot like Bridget suddenly stopping all of the action to explore her identity on a slot machine? I have no patience for these people anymore. They're just stupid and arguing because they have no hobbies.

There's also the fact that Daisuke originally planned for Bridget to be a cis girl until the very last minute. So if anything her coming out in Strive was just returning to the starting concept. He mentions this in the interview in the back of Artworks of Guilty Gear X 2000-2004. Translation by fairymisao.

(27)---The character Bridget, introduced in Guilty Gear XX, looks like a girl but is actually a boy, right? What was your intention in deciding on creating this kind of character? Ishiwatari: The creation of Bridget as a boy happened at the very last second; during development I was drawing him as purely a girl. It's just that when there is a need to give a worldly backbone (to the game), in order for me to try to not forget each character, and in order to revive the character, I give them my very heart. As a result, the creation of Bridget as actually a boy instead of a girl was because I thought he could become my alter ego. [...]

It's also important to note that Vastedge was the first thing ASW made for Guilty Gear after getting the full rights to the IP back from Sega after the Sega-Sammy merger in 2011 (which they had started to lose a bit before Overture's release in 2004). They were absolutely more focused on making something that would generate income and looked flashy than they were a compelling cinematic experience.

[palant1r]

why don’t you like the shinigami light theory

OKAY SO

For me, for something to be a good theory as opposed to a fun headcanon or AU, it has to fit two stipulations. First, it must make the events of canon make more sense. Second, it must enhance the thematic resonance of those events. Basically, a good theory answers questions the source material asks, and does so in a way that's satisfying and makes the source material Hit.

A good example of a good theory is Matsuda's chapter 108 theory that Near wrote Mikami's name in the notebook. It makes Near seem a lot less stupid and resolves a few plot holes in the finale, plus it offers a satisfying dimension to Near's character.

Shinigami Light is a fun AU. It's a fun headcanon. It's a fun new way to explore characters, and I've read a few fics that I find pretty good with that premise. But it is NOT a good theory.

First of all, it makes the story make less sense, not more sense. If Light becomes a shinigami, why don't we ever see anything from him again, especially considering we have stories after post-canon? Does it really make sense for light yagami to suddenly gain absolute power and be like "nah im just gonna let the world go back to how it was before kira?" I don't think it does. Also, we're told in canon that all humans go to nothingness after they die. I guess Mu could be the shinigami realm? But there sure are things there. Doesn't seem very nothingness to me. There is also just like. No canon suggested mechanism by which a human could become a shinigami. Obviously not all humans become shinigami, or else there would be billions of them. Can the shinigami king make humans into shinigami? I doubt he'd make Light into a shinigami — considering he interferes with the plan to sell the death note to Literal Donald Trump, I don't think he'd endorse light's particular brand of chaos by giving Light way more power. I guess you could argue that shinigami have to be born somehow since they can die — but I honestly think it makes more sense to say that there used to be far more shinigami and they're dying out.

Second of all, it completely ruins the ending. Like, COMPLETELY. In the manga, the warehouse scene turns Light's character on its head. We are shown that he's always known there's nothing after death, and he's desperately afraid to die. We're shown that, in the end, he was a human like everyone else. His crime was not a grand blasphemy or an overturning of the natural order. He was just a murderer who led those close to him to their deaths — a stupid, senseless, human crime. And that's what makes the ending so satisfying and sad. We're left like Matsuda — gazing with both contempt and pity at a man who used the corpses of ten thousand evildoers to run from his own terribly mundane fear and guilt. But if Light ascends to godhood, what are we even left with? A world for him to look down to from above. Light's vindication. It's the kind of ending that would appear in Light's own childish delusion, a kind of "when I'm dead, they'll all see." It's an ending where Light gets exactly what he wants BECAUSE of his actions with the death note. And I find that ending completely and utterly boring. It doesn't just ruin the ending — there are a lot of lines sprinkled in about the distinction between human and shinigami, and how Ryuk thinks Light is a fine shinigami simply because of the death he deals. That's interesting, and I think the significance of that blurred line gets neutered if Light actually becomes a shinigami.

So, yeah. I'm fine with it as a headcanon. But to me, the shinigami light theory isn't compatible with the best parts of death note. It makes the source material's strengths irrelevant and its weaknesses exacerbated. Do not like this theory.

[acourtofthought]

Girl, your blog convinced me to continue reading ACOATR! I’m honestly laughing my ass off about the whole shipping war shit because it’s so oBvIoUs who are the next 2 pairings. Crying, screaming, throwing up and convincing themselves E/riel was planned since MAF like these two didn’t start paying attention to each other in FAS because they needed a rebound. And after that bonus chapter, no less! Phew. The mate language between Azriel and Gwyn was not subtle at all. And they’re not even friends yet.

My man Lucien was NOT given a bunch of big storylines just to be kept as a sexy comedic relief. Reading posts about how 3 brothers + 3 sisters was always the plan and how irrelevant Gwyn and Lucien are and I can smell the frustration. Big mad, gritting their teeth and wiping away tears. They’re so awkward and cringy around each other, you gotta work really hard to convince yourself they have real tension and potential.

This is the highest compliment , thank you! 😍😍😍

To me, it makes sense that Lucien is on the backburner right now. Even Elain to some extent.

If these are two characters who aren't meant to be majorly involved in the NC and it's politics in the future.....then why would they be majorly involved in the NC right now? Their absence is telling but not because they've suddenly stopped being important. They simply have no real place in Nesta and Cassian's book since Nessian are two characters who are NC through and through.

SJM has often mentioned that she's excited to explore other courts outside the NC (even places outside Prythian) in the spin-off series and I think Elucien's story is going to give us exactly that.

She wasn't ready for it before but that doesn't mean she's not ready for it now.

And yeah, I'm not sure how the thought of a females happiness sparking something in your chest then later having it glow (a thing of secret lovely beauty) could be looked at as anything but coding for a romantic future between two characters. Endgame or not, that's definitely something. It's definitely something that Gwyn was a bit flirtatious towards Az (so the arguments that she's not interested in men because of her SA sound like someone trying to hold her back from taking those first steps that she herself feels comfortable with), it's something that Az found her charming, that he watched her with admiration, that he believed in her ability to make it through the Rite,

I really don't understand how it's said Elain possibly calling Az's scars beautiful (when she could have actually been talking about his Sipons) is romantic coding but those scenes between Gwynriel are not. You can still want E/riel to be endgame if that's your jam but it's strange if the Gwyn and Az moments didn't have them worried just a little.

[chaosintheavenue]

Ghoul Survey Results!

The Ghoul Survey managed to collect 110 responses (thank you all!). The nature of the data means that pie charts aren't working very well to display it coherently, so I'm just going to present the numbers as they are.

Without further ado...

Favourite companion:

Raul: 35 Hancock: 31 Charon: 24 Dean Domino: 9 Lenny: 4 Otto Steed (VB): 4 Herbert: 3 Billy-Bob: 3 Measles (VB): 2 Chris the Ghoulrilla: 2

Favourite non-companion character:

Gob: 20 Kent Connolly: 9 Jason Bright: 8 Beatrix Russell: 8 Daisy: 7 Carol: 5 Harold (proclaimed by one respondent as an 'honorary ghoul'): 5 Desmond Lockheart: 3 Arlen Glass: 3 Rotface: 3 Oswald the Outrageous: 3 Eddie Winter: 2 Tulip: 2 Calamity: 2 Wiseman: 2 Dr Sebastian (VB): 2 Harland: 2 Ghoulrillas generally: 2 Ghoul NCR soldiers generally: 2

And as always, a list of those with one vote: Tommy Ten-Toes, Bessie Lynn, Hadrian, Keely, Typhon, Snowflake, Talius, Skeeter, Set, Bobbi No-Nose, Vault-Tec Rep, Griffon, T-Minus, Betty Hill, Zhao, Ghoulified!Moira Brown, Sun of Atom, Greta, Argyle, Eugenie, Billy Peabody, and Bert Gunnarsson

Favourite settlement/faction:

Underworld: 49 Necropolis: 21 The Bright Brotherhood: 14 The Slog: 13 Gecko: 4 Kiddie Kingdom: 3 Kansas City/Gravestone: 2 The Reservation (VB): 1 Camp Searchlight: 1 Eugenie's ghoul settlement: 1 Broken Hills: 1

Do all ghouls eventually turn feral?

No: 97 Yes: 12

What causes ghouls to turn feral?

General level of radiation exposure post-ghoulification: 25 Social isolation: 22 The circumstances of how they ghoulified in the first place: 11 Reliance on radiation instead of food as an energy source: 10 Genetics: 9 Other: 23

Within the Other category, most said a combination of some or all of the above factors, or pure random chance. Other theories included…

Level of FEV exposure

The person's personality and morality pre-ghoulification

Infections and how well the ghoul cares for their wounds

A form of dementia

Psychic/supernatural phenomena

Brain chemistry pre-ghoulification

Level of mental duress post-ghoulification

Their level of internal connection to their own humanity

Ghouls cannot physically starve, but do feel hunger. If they don't eat for too long, they get a severe case of 'hangry' and turn feral

(Looking through the theories on this question caused me to suddenly and violently remember the glaringly absent 'What causes ghoulification in the first place?' question I'd planned to include… I guess that leaves room for Ghoul Survey 2: Electric Boogaloo?)

Do ghouls still physically need to eat, drink, sleep, all the basics?

Yes, to survive: 71 Yes, to avoid turning feral: 30 No: 9

If a child became ghoulified, would they remain child-sized, or grow?

Remain child-sized: 53 Grow to adult size as a human would: 39 Other: 18

The contents of the Other category, in loose order of how common each theory was:

They would grow to an extent, but not to what their human height would have been, and will likely have a unique appearance generally

They would eventually grow to an adult size, but over an extremely long time frame

The ghoulification process is so unique to each individual that it's impossible to predict what would happen, especially in an exceptional case like this

Children are so unlikely to survive ghoulification in the first place that asking this question is essentially irrelevant

Feral ghoul children would grow, others would not

And now we come to the final question, the blank text box. I'll add a handpicked selection of the original comments and a brief ship count under the cut for brevity's sake:

I have 3 ghoul OCs that came to life because of a joke me and my friend had. They're a group of prewar cheerleaders turned borderline raider gang. They're like 17/18 year old girls. […] So all in all while all the rest of my OCs are dying and barely getting by they're sunbathing by a murky, algae filled pool with silly sunglasses and crappy cocktails. Oh and yeah,they kept their uniforms and wear them all the time.

-

Ghouls have one of the most heart breaking stories. Especially the Pre-War ones. They watched many (if not all) of their friends and family die in one way or another. The best in universe example of how mentally draining being a Pre-War ghoul was is in Oswalds terminals around the Kiddy Kingdom in Nuka World. You get a real sense of the fear and loss of seeing these people you've been forced to get close with slowly stop mentally existing even if their still physically there. Oswalds hope that a cure can be found is heartbreaking because we know (as far as I'm aware) of no existing cure for Ghoulism and especially for feral ghouls.

-

Ghoulification isn't a condition or a sickness or a consequence of making poor choices, its an adaptation for life in the wasteland and a useful one at that.

-

I love all the ghoul characters and chose Lenny as my favourite because A. I think he’s underappreciated and B. Second only to Charon, he has the most potential for a really cool backstory that they never addressed. Dude is a doctor in Necropolis, he would have been treating the other vault dwellers for radiation sickness. Imagine the trauma! The angst! It included his father who’s to say there wasn’t more of his family in that vault that he tried to help and failed? How did he survive the super mutant attack on necropolis? Was he below the city or above it (was he angry at humans and got over it or just trying to live peacefully?)

-

I think 90% of the veteran rangers are all ghouls. I like to think there's large ghoul settlements all over. I like to think there's ghouls who look completely human. Chris Haversam is ghoulifing on the inside but he still looks human. The Human Companions in Fallout 4 who are all immune to radiation are that way due to that process.

-

It makes sense ghouls would think their immune to radiation, but really, it just takes longer. their resistant, not immune. places like the glowing sea would make amazing homes for ghouls to the average eye, but once you see how many feral ghouls are around you start to think about how many came there feral to begin with.

-

I have this hc about Jason Bright where he is a pskyer and the reason why his voice echos is because one of the voices you're hearing physically with your ears and the other he is unintentionally projecting into your mind with telepathy.

-

I imagine there's many Vaults that are full of just ghouls.

-

I got a headcannon that ghouls are naturally warmer, due of radiation. the 'younger' the ghoul, the warmer. pre war ghouls arent that warm as the ones who turned years ago.

-

Headcanon: if a ghoul works to maintain their voice (i.e. general vocal care like how opera singers do), they can keep their voice from getting as scraggly as most. My 76 OC was a Broadway actress before the war and continued to maintain her voice despite aging and eventual ghoulification, which allowed her to keep it (mostly) in tact.

-

I think Oswald was the reason his friends turned feral. He kept exposing them to radiation and every time he healed them with radiation or brought them back from the dead makes things harder. But ultimately it's a super rare gene that keeps non feral glowing ones.

-

I think the Eldritch Old Ones are the unofficial cause of the ghouls. The radiation is just an effect but the the Old Ones choose who to make feral, who to turn, and sometimes they'll turn without radiation at all.

-

Rn I’m working on a setting set in central MA, and one of the characters is a ghoul history teacher since he is a prewar ghoul. It’s been a fun concept to play with!

-

Bit of a headcanon- ghouls tend to have a heightened sense of smell, but are mostly nose blind to smells of burning and rot.

-

Glowing ones don't turn feral. Every feral glowing one was feral BEFORE they were glowing.

-

I hc that all ghouls are sensitive to light which is why most chill in dark places.

-

And last but certainly not least...

I want to marry Raul.

-

And so, that concludes that.

A huge thank you once again to everyone who took the survey and offered your thoughts, and I hope you found this results post interesting/insightful :D

Appendix: But Chaos, you promised us...

1 - Analysis of ghoul x ghoul ships!

So, upon an brief glance-through of the data whilst the survey was still running (I was trying not to 'spoil' the dataset for myself so I only peeked here and there), it seemed like a relatively large chunk of the recent respondents had mentioned ships, which is why I proposed adding a dedicated section for them in the results. However, in the final results we actually only have two ghoul x ghoul ships mentioned: Carol x Greta and Gob x Charon. A handful of other answers talked about shipping Charon and Gob with their LWs and Raul with their Couriers, but overall there just wasn't a whole lot of shipping discussion going on. Sorry to disappoint lol

2 - Born ghoul discussion!

Ah. Yes. That. Well, this is a similar situation again, actually. There are references to relevant characters within the dataset, but nothing went into anywhere near as much detail as I somehow convinced myself it had, and so I didn't have to leap in with the dreaded Born Ghouls 101 after all. I think my brain may have bluescreened prematurely upon seeing the slightest hinted mention of Van Buren's ghoul lore in there hgfdfgh

[pirate-of-the-southern-isles]

Fanfic snippet - When Hans had learned about the "Troll theory"

Not so long after, the company has spread around the bookshop and disappeared from each other’s sight. Which, as Hans thought, was probably the safest option for him. He was finally able to find a nice chair and sit down for a moment to think about what the hell just happened.

His father, his brothers, his whole family, has spent three years hammering into his head with a burning passion what a shame he brought to them all. And he could even agree with them. And now it turns out that there are some people out there who consider him a hero? How?! Everything was perfectly clear! Anna, in this letter of hers, wrote the truth, the whole truth and only the truth. What was their reason not to believe her?!

It wasn’t like this, like, at all. OK, it was, but in a totally different way. Yes, he was handing over those blankets and jackets, and yes, he found a place in Arendellian palace where people could find a shelter and food, and yes, he was watching over the hot glogg. Yes, that’s true. But he wasn’t doing all this because he cared, he was doing it, because he wanted them to like him and trust him and accept him as their future King. There is a difference. And then… then it was completely not like the lecturer has told, because no, there was no troll magic, that’s impossible. The plan was ready for years! Since Lars has told him about Elsa and how he should consider marrying her!

He shut his eyes and tried to recall that scene. Lars was searching through his maps and wondered why father allows Caleb to run amok – which, in a language of simple folks, was called „causing incidents on borders”. It was right after their mother’s birthday dinner, when the rest of those apes made bullying him a main attraction of the evening, as usual. So, after he had rested in the docks for a while, he went to the library. And then, the twins came to tell Lars about the death of Arendelle’s royal couple. And then… damn, how much he would give to have Lars to shut up this one time.

He remembered it. He remembered the red velvet chairs, a smell of dust and a warm tone of his older brother. He remembered the sound of the doors opening, Rudi and Runo’s stupid faces and papers, blown away from the table by a sudden air movement.

But… if trolls have changed Anna’s memory about Elsa…

Whatever Kristoff says, is irrelevant. He is a side in this conflict. No. Hans had to conduct his own research.

He got up and took the flyer to find an etnography and etnology section. He went right there, not sure if he can trust in his own sanity. Yes, he encountered a lot of creatures with abilities to alter people’s – and other animals – minds with venoms, hypnosis or other stuff. But if it will turn out that he was imprisoned and went through it all only because some trolls wanted to have their own man in the palace…!

Calm down, it is impossible!

Is it?! He just learnt that his ex’s memories were literally changed and cleared, so she couldn’t remember about something as important as her own sister’s magical abilities! Who knows, if…

He suddenly felt sick. He needed to sit down again. There was no time to look for another chair.

Three years.

Three years of hell.

And now someone is stating that there is a possibility he could have been framed?!

If that’s true, I will burn Arendelle to the ground.

No. No, no, no. He couldn’t think like that, not anymore. He grabbed his left ear. He felt the cold of his earrings. Took a few deep breaths. He imagined a night full of stars. Warmth on his skin. Smell of the open sea. Sails’s flapper. Hard, wooden bench by the cabin, right between doors and left stairs. Calm, kind voice of captain Rogers, asking, as usual, the right question.

„If that’s the truth about what happened” imaginary Rogers started „think, what would have happened if they wouldn’t alter your mind.”

„I wouldn’t rot in those stables for three years, that’s what would happen".

„Yes, and you would still be a prince of the Southern Isles. Were you happy back then?”.

„Happier than a slave in those stables”.

„Let’s try differently. That night, you know which one… where would you be, if you were still a prince?”.

Hans took a breath. A sea. A smell of salt.

„I would be… probably in my chambers. Or in Arendelle, depends if I would convince one of them to marry me”.

„So you wouldn’t be in your cell, is that correct?”

A big explosion. Boom. Pieces of wall, made of a black stone which was not supposed to break under any artillery, but then it did. A cannonball that brought him a new life.

„That’s correct. I wouldn’t be there”.

Waves crashing on broadsides. Morning Star’s gentle rocking.

„Are you happy as a pirate?”.

He smiled. Now he was remembering different things. His head was suddenly flooded by the bright, happy memories. Layla’s insane laugh. The first time when he tasted a coconut. Mango, purring in his lap. Successfull boarding upon some unsuspecting ship. His crew cheering. How the world looks like from a crow’s nest. Egg patting his back. A bet with Bernard, easily winned. A sight of a group of wild buffalos, when they once anchored in the New World. The day when he became a captain. The first time in the Republic, when he saw how different the world can be. Dancing in their favourite bar. Meeting new friends. Those evenings with shanties on their deck. Yet another one lost treasure retrieved. Cannons’s boom and reckless duels, sacks of gold and chests of jewels.

„Yes” he said, almost out loud.

„I am glad” Roger’s face was brightened by a smile. „But let’s wonder… would you become a pirate if you weren’t there that night? In the exactly right place in the exactly right time?”.

It was a tough question. The pirates were all over the place. He could, in theory, grab and make his offer to any of them. But would he be desperate enough to change his life this radically?

No, he admitted right away. In this case – no. In this case he would probably stay with his lovely family and be miserable till the end of his days.

„So… if they really did something to my brain… I should be grateful?”

„Dear Neptune, no! I didn’t say it. If that’s really their work and you went to Arendelle with truly good intentions, then you have every right to be furious. And I am saying like Davy Jones’ level of fury.”

„Exactly!”

„But, in the end, your fate was changed. I think, for the better. Wasn’t it?”

Without those three years in stables he wouldn’t became a pirate, that’s for sure. There wouldn’t be the first time crossing the Equator. There wouldn’t be passage round the Horn of the South. He wouldn’t get himself tattoos or earrings – hell, he wouldn’t even think about it! He wouldn’t be laying down on the incredibly soft, white beaches of the Coconut Isles. He wouldn’t see volcanos explode, nor the whale’s inside, not the Pearly Gates open down in the Southern Ocean. Layla wouldn’t teach him to play stories. Bernard wouldn’t teach him how to shoot a musket and a colt. He wouldn’t have met many people he was no longer able to imagine his life without.

He wouldn’t have met captain Rogers.

It was all truth, but those three years were so damn hard.

It just… He just wished he was certain that he had deserved it. Because if it turns out that he had to endure this nightmare without any actual fault of his own, then… then it would make it, somehow, a lot worse.  

----

Chapter 35, "The Pirate of the Southern Isles".

So, Hans and his guests were able to hear what the rest of the world is thinking about events from six years ago in Arendelle. It is safe to say that it didn't go exactly how they imagined it will. What they have heard was basically one, big, fat Hans' defence and laudation. Including the famous "Troll theory" - a theory in which it was the trolls who actually made Hans evil, to "get the fiancee out of the way" for Kristoff.

When Hans heard about it - and learnt that they did the same thing to Anna - he started to question his own sanity and bought himself a lot of books to learn about the trolls and their abilities.

...but no, his mind wasn't altered. It was still, to his own relief, all his fault.

When Hans is overwhelmed, or sad, or angry, or when he has to make a choice he is not sure about because his moral reasoning is still a little off, he grabs his left ear (the one with the earrings) and try to ask himself "What would captain Rogers say?", because captain Rogers (the captain of the "Morning Star", Hans escaped from the Isles on its deck) is his final authority now.

Sorry about all the mistakes, English is still not my native language.