#brilliant minds think alike i suppose

[brett-is-afraid]

Ed Sheeran song lyrics: "She played the fiddle in an Irish band, But she fell in love with an English man-"

Me:

Me: s...septicinnit..... SEPTICINNIT.....

You know something wild? Galway Girl has always been a song that reminded me of Jack, especially Jack ships. I can see how it fits for septicinnit. <3

[ll-until-the-very-end-ll]

Where do you stand with Albus Dumbledore?? Do you like him or hate him? I personally dont like or hate him, I find him sorta weird especially with the whole building armies with children/late teens and his whole not trusting adults but will keep harry in the loop (or at least more than he did with the adults) I dont hate him, I just feel like he needed more friends his age and needed to let the kids live their lives and STOP DRAGGING THEM INTO WARS!!

Good question!

Do I hate Dumbledore? No. There are far worse characters worthy of my hate. Do I like him though? Also no. I think the thing with Dumbledore is that he is built up like your ideal role model, someone who looks and feels like they'd have all the right answers for everything. But that's not the reality of it, is it? You can specifically feel this sentiment for yourself if you grew up with these books. At first you look at him as a savior! Someone so strong and so powerful who took you into a magical realm that provides comfort and a false sense of safety. But as you go on with the books you'd expect him to give you more tips and tricks to figure out how to deal with the current dilemmas and concerns at hand but he never fully does that, does he? He's always vague in his words of support and guidance and this is where Harry and us the readers alike get introduced to characters like Sirius Black in POA and get easily attached towards the end of the book and in GOF because he was comforting, he was direct and he was PRESENT for Harry both physical and emotional needs, and even if we're not fully conscious about it we start coming into terms that this is what Harry actually needed since book 1, this what the adults around him should've been like, and then you form an idea at the back of your mind that MAYBE Dumbledore isn't as all-knowing as trustworthy as we made him to be in our heads (us the readers and Harry alike) but of course that's a silly notion and we don't fully commit to it because HE IS DUMBLEDORE! If we can't trust him then who can we trust??? Right?? Well, not until Harry's emotional explosion in his office, because much like Harry, we the readers are frustrated! At this point in the books we demand answers from this man! His questionable actions starts to rise to the surface and we are constantly asking ourselves WHY DIDN'T HE DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS?!!! WHY DIDN'T HE DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT?? After all, isn't he one if not the most powerful wizard at the time??? And you carry this rage with you to the next book and now he's dead??? How can he be dead??? He didn't provide the answers he was supposed to provide???? He left us (and Harry) hanging in a critical time where Voldemort is literally out there getting more powerful with each passing second! But the mentality shifts here because the realization sinks in that we (again, and Harry) are almost adults now and we can't forever relay on a now dead man for answers especially since it's a critical time to take action and get the gears in your head working to find a solution and a way to defeat the dark lord. So you do just that! And it works! Congratulations! Voldemort is dead! War is over! Now you finally have the time to rest and reflect on everything that has happened in the past 7 years and this is when you come to the terms with that fact that Dumbledore never really fooled us. We placed him at such a high pedestal because much like Harry, we were kids. Simple as that. He was at the end of the day just a man, a brilliant man and a brilliant wizard...but at the end of the day...he was just a man. Not a hero. Not a savior. He was a mortal man! We expected him to have all the answers and solutions because at the time we were young and naive and wanted those answers and solutions to be spoon-fed to us! We needed guidance and an adult figure who we can go back to at the end of the day and rest our weary heads and get a "there there" but that's not the case, is it? Not in fiction or in real life. And I guess this is the one thing I like about Dumbledore as a character, it's that he makes you come into terms with the fact that people around us are on their own journey, whether be it a parent figure, a teacher, a friend, a sibling...they can't provide all the answers you require to go on with your journey. After all this is their first time in this life much like it's your first time. You need to learn how to take matters into your own hands and make your own decisions and take responsibility for the results of those decisions.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Fox for the ask game?

Headcanon A: What I Think Realistically

When Fox was picked to be Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard, it was done because he scored so high during all his tests. Palpatine let a lot of competent CCs into the GAR to keep up appearances, but he made sure to pick out the ones who he thought might actually be capable of becoming a problem to control if they were actively fighting alongside Jedi.

Headcanon B: What I think is fucking hilarious

Fox is genderfluid and has a chart on how gender presentation works for him/her/them depending on what sort of day it is (it's all in the very fine details really).

Only the Guard and the few allies they have on Triple Zero know how to read the signs. Everyone else is confused on what to call him/her/them because they don't know Fox all that well and don't have the balls to ask for pronouns.

It's honestly amusing for Fox to watch people squirm when trying and failing to figure out how to address the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard.

Headcanon C: What is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends

Fox knew Fives was onto something the moment Palpatine called for the kill order. Whether or not the chip was involved in him pulling the trigger doesn't really matter. He ultimately still feels the crushing guilt that comes with the consequences of Fives's death, and he'd give anything to make it right if his hands weren't so tied.

Unfortunately Palpatine's scrutiny of him and the Guard rises after the Fives incident, so Fox pushes his own suspicions and remorse into a box and locks it away rather than try to explain himself to the GAR Commanders or Rex. He has his own men to protect and he doubts that even if Fives was proven right, that any of them could ever possibly win when they are naught more than cogs in a machine.

His will for a good future for clone kind has been irrevocably broken by then. He can only hope they all just survive to a day where the war is but a memory. Whatever comes after that is out of his hands entirely.

Headcanon D: What would-never work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway

Canon gave us very little of Fox aside from dealing with a Hutt in collaboration with Padme, a bombing fail, a high-stakes hunt for a supposed terrorist who actually wasn't the culprit, another high-stakes hunt for a supposed assassin that ended in set-in-stone tragedy, and then a comic where he got his neck snapped by Vader.

Canon has done Fox dirty because the writing teams have never cared for him or the Coruscant Guard, and by default a lot of the fandom outside of Tumblr have equated them to snobby corrupt cops with Fox being the worst of the worst, which is highly unlikely considering their position.

With that in mind, I believe Fox and the Guard are indeed hated by the population of Coruscant and the GAR alike. The former due to their nature as clones and being a reminders of the war in general, and the latter entirely due to the manipulation of Palpatine.

The GAR troops had their purpose in the war (primarily get closer to the Jedi and become the perfect trap for them) while the Corries another purpose entirely (organize the population of Coruscant in preparation for Palpatine's Empire) and he needed them divided so that through their collective intellect they didn't figure Palps out for what he really was. Because honestly the clones were brilliant military tacticians that relied on their excellent organization and cooperation skills, and nothing short of a fabricated internal conflict could have stopped them from seeing Palpatine was actively sabotaging and destroying the Republic they were loyal to.

But returning primarily to Fox, he is one of Palpatine's more direct victims of active manipulation, with his memory being so messed up from Force Suggestion that he has become an incredibly unreliable narrator. As such he has measures in place where he can keep track of sensitive information pertaining his vode where he actually doesn't know enough for him to become a liability to them. Clones who know too much are met with a horrible fate, or worse... Lead others to their own terrible fates.

[brynn-lear]

Dear Brynlee,

I hope my letter finds you in good health. I appreciate your swift and kind response. I'm quite relieved you do not mind my ignorance at times.

Moving on, I'm quite glad to hear your fondness for both the architect and the Duke. I favour the architect a lot, agreeing that he does put other artists at peace with his reliable nature. His way of communication is certainly one I nod at with great appreciation, and his sentimental disposition easily captures my curiosity.

As for the Duke though, my gaze of favour does not have any particular cause; it is simply that Monsieur Neuvillette an I happen to be close associates, and a friend of a friend certainly deserves my favour.

Of course, though, much like you, even I retain my appreciation for them away from romance. I simply adore them, is all.

Lord Kamisato is a curious one indeed... in spite of his status, it's safe to say that I consider myself quite fortunate to never have had the privilege bad luck to have a chance at interacting with him.

The Bough keeper is a more fascinating character though; I have never exactly been able to pin down his personality in spite of having had multiple chances to speak to him, in all of whom he has been nothing short of poised, respectful, and brilliant.

I believe he drapes on himself the title of a mourner, shading all other of his brighter qualities with its dull colour. He is illusive, but quietly so, never entirely being honest, or a liar; masterfully treading the lines that separate all that is good and evil.

Who dares to observe the observer? I do, of course. I await the day he shows his true nature; perhaps eagerly so.

I would share my enthusiasm for Sir Dmitri as well, should I have known him better; but considering that you adore him so, I believe he must be a good man. He certainly deserves my curiosity, then.

May I ask yet another question? Who do you adore from yet another parallel universe where the star of Stelle/Caelus finds home?

I hope my letters do not disturb you.

Yours Truly,

Chryseis Valois.

Dearest Chryseis,

You have no idea how much happy I was to receive another letter from you. I agree with most of your points, and I can definitely understand your relationship with the Iudex.

You better thank the God you believe in that you've never encountered Lord Kamisato. The Kamisato Commissioner is the elusive type. Perhaps one day you would encounter him. Who knows? Well, perhaps I do. I am an overseer after all.

I think I have a grasp on the former Black Serpent Knight's personality. He is someone I have the privilege of working with as of late, alongside Black Swan and "Medjed". Dainsleif may seem hard to understand upon first meeting, but the subtleties in his speech and humor shines the mote you interact. Though, considering that you are one of our guests, perhaps limited interacts is better. You know well that he asks the most mind boggling questions.

Interest in His Majesty...? Oh, no, you must've misunderstood our relationship. If you saw me inquiring women and men alike about their opinions of our King— it's an act done for my duties rather than... Whatever romantic airs people will label them as. I'm just helping a friend find someone to love him. That's all. Really. Please, believe me. Please.

As for the that other realm... Hmm. Well, Dr. Ratio and Aventurine are very similar to the Professor Veritas and Kakavasha I know— so it's no secret I'm fond of them. Though we'd never met, I think I would get along with Captain Gepard of the Silvermane Guards just fine. Jing Yuan is very hospitable, Kafka is charmingly persuasive, Sparkle is easy to befriend, and Blade is... Something. Hilarious how I found him most difficult to describe when he is my closest friend from that realm. His circumstances are unique, and I suppose I can relate to his... "tendencies".

Well, how about you? Who do you favor from that realm? I don't suppose Mister Aventurine is also in that list? Most people I know are quite obsessed with him. Do tell me your opinion. I'd love to know!

Sincerely,

- Brynlee <3

[lunasohma]

fishbowl

[ ao3 / ff.net ]

Shuuichi finds Seiji at the water’s edge.

“They’ll take them from your hand, even,” Seiji says, as if Shuuichi has been there all along. He’s feeding the koi bits of cracker.

“You know, my sister would have them turning tricks for these.” His fingertips graze the surface of the water. “For all we look alike, they can still tell the difference.”

The moon and the stars have been brought down to earth, and the fish move between them. Brilliant fireworks against the inky blackness.

“Are you enjoying the evening, Shuuichi-san? I was sorry to leave you alone.”

He sits down now, but can’t seem to relax.

“You know the answer to that already, don’t you.”

“Are you asking me?”

“You were there for some of it, weren’t you?”

“I was just in and out—for my treats.” He emphasizes his words with another toss of crumbs, further afield.

The koi set off in slow motion.

“Seiji.”

Seiji finally looks at him, his expression strange and as unfathomable as the dark water. Not for the first time, Shuuichi wonders what it will be like when his face is halved by the seal.

“What do you want me to say? That I heard none of it? That I heard all of it?” His voice is devastatingly quiet. “Tell me, what do you want?”

All at once, he can’t stand it.

“I don’t know.” A barely whispered admission—a confession.

Seiji turns back to the pond.

“I don’t envy you, but there are parts of you that are very enviable. But that’s not enough, is it?”

Shuuichi stiffens, already feeling scraped raw by the evening. Something unpleasant rises within him.

What am I supposed to do?

If the ground opened up and swallowed him whole, he doesn’t think that would be such a terrible thing.

It is a while before Seiji speaks again.

“Don’t mind me, Shuuichi-san, I’m just thinking aloud.” Is it bad that those words feel like a balm?

And so absurdly—

“Canapé?” Seiji proffers his plate.

Instead, Shuuichi swipes the rest of the butter cookies Seiji favors. A small retaliation. But maybe not too small when it comes to Seiji and his sweets.

They melt in his mouth. Seiji stares down at his plate.

“They’re good, aren’t they?”

Shuuichi tips a few back onto the plate.

“Not too bad.”

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

My DC Cinematic Universe: Batman (Part I)

Prologue: The Endless Night

...How the hell am I supposed to start this one? I mean, Jesus Christ, it's Batman. Comparing Batman to Superman, this is a much harder film to plot out for me. Why? Well, frankly, Batman's been a lot luckier in media than Superman has. Some of the greatest comic book movies of all time are Batman films, after all. Not to mention the fact that we all know Batman as a character by now, and Superman's never really been that lucky. So, again...how the hell am I supposed to do this?

Well, I guess I just start in the same way that I did the last one, right? Defining my version of Batman/Bruce Wayne. And that's not terribly difficult...but it also isn't exactly new territory at the same time. Still, I'll give it a shot here. So, I'll start with exactly that: Who is Batman?

Chapter One: Redefining the Defined

The simple answer to this question is as such: Batman is the real identity, while Bruce Wayne is the mask. A hot take? No, most certainly not a hot take at this point. Most interpretations of the character realize this to a certain degree, although that degree is highly variable in some cases. But the point here is that Batman is essentially the reverse of Superman, in most ways. Day vs. night, colorful vs. greyscale, lawful vs. chaotic, and hope vs. fear. But both are still good. And I think movies seem to forget that about Batman.

Look, Batman walking the edge of the abyss isn't a fresh take either, but more often than not, filmmakers tend to throw him a little bit into it. Moreso than I think they should. Batman is chaotic or neutral good alignment, yes, but he's still good aligned, no matter what. And he's also an extremely complex character, almost absurdly so in many cases. Because of that, a lot of his character is simplified, and frankly, the character is usually pretty Flanderized in media nowadays.

Ah, yes, Flanderizing. The idea of taking a complex character, full of nuance and personality and a past of their own, and simplifying them into base characteristics to the point of absurdity and exaggeration. It's what happened to Ned Flanders in The Simpsons, but it happens to a LOT of superheroes. Superman's one of the worst affected by this, mostly being simplified to his powers and goodness, with the personality and character completely lost in the shuffle. But even then...Batman is WAY worse.

Whenever people think of Batman, their minds go to a few places. A tough brooding loner, instilling fear into the hearts of criminals, still mourning the loss of his parents to a near-sociopathic degree, and taking out his grief on the faces of clowns and wrestlers alike. Also, his voice is gruff and raspy. And OK, that's a take on the character, sure, but goddamn is that an oversimplification. And that oversimplification leads to...other issues.

But before I go into too much detail there, let me define what my Batman is once and for all. Batman is justice, teetering on the edge of vengeance. He believes in a true moral right, but doesn't trust the systems in place in Gotham to enforce that right, placing it into his own hands as a result. Makes him a bit of a control freak, but it also makes him scarily efficient and proficient. He's a brilliant man and self-trained detective and expert in many field. He's a worldly man and proficient athlete, honing himself for the singular purpose of exacting justice like no other person possibly could.

However, he's also a very damaged person, in desperate need of therapy, but with the singular purpose of mind that makes him confidently believe in self-control over his own mental state, to the point of obsession and exaggeration. Yes, he walks on the edge of the abyss, but he's always aware of that edge, and doesn't actually want to fall into it. However, he embraces the darkness that lies within it as a tool for justice, rather than a part of his self-perception.

With that said, some of you may be thinking...haven't we already seen this in other versions of the character? And we have...partially. But let's get into it, and I'll try and explain my specific version of the character a little better. Because every version got something right...but nobody got everything right. And I do mean every version.

Adam West's Batman, despite the goofy-ass Silver-Age Universe he was in, definitely got the hero and do-gooder part of the character down pat. Other than the superficial stuff, like the gadgets and the Batcave and all that, West's silly iteration of the character wanted to do good for no other reason than it being the right thing to do. And yeah, that's accurate. Batman wants to do the right thing because too few people in Gotham want to or can, and somebody fucking has to. Batman being in alliance with a moral good is an important and often overlooked part of the character.

Michael Keaton's excellent turn as Batman in the Burton films definitely got the damaged billionaire thing right. Maybe a little too right, in fact. This version of Batman was a detective and crusader of the night, as well as a crusader for justice, but he was way more damaged than most versions of the character tend to be. The line between Bruce and Bat was appropriately blurred, but it also made it very obvious that they were the same person. Still, Keaton correctly played the character as teetering on the edges of madness and obsession. His "Bruce" left a little something to be desired, though.

I'd bring up Kilmer and Clooney here, but they sort of copy West in terms of their Batmen. Even then, they barely had personality to begin with, and they definitely aren't quite worth talking about.

Hoo boy, Christian Bale. This Batman is a truly interesting one, because he embraces fear far more than most of the rest do. Sure, Keaton's Batman is a little spooky, but Bale's Batman really dials up the idea of a fear-generating force of the night. His Bruce Wayne truly is a mask, distancing himself greatly from the identity of Batman, in almost a direct response to the Keaton Batman. However, this Batman also loses most of the detective angle, and instead leans into the vengeance-seeking vigilante who actively murders people. And yes, I mean that. Not saving somebody is effectively the same as murdering them, Bruce. Not that Keaton's Batman is any better, since he actively kills a few people. We'll, uh...we'll get to that problem later.

Anyway, Bale's Batman is good for a lot of things, but he's a simplified version of the character. Like, I can call that Batman a lot of things, but he's not particularly smart, for one. And for two, he's not particularly heroic, either. I mean, yeah, he saves the city three times, but it's usually based off personal stakes or a challenge to him directly. It's not really about doing the right thing in these instances. But that's NOTHING compared to...

Fuck Batfleck, if I can just say that right now. Batfleck is a really shitty version of this character, and has ESSENTIALLY NOTHING that Batman should have. He's a murderer, his actions are inherently cruel, he's a stupid and easily manipulated IDIOT who never does any difficult detective work, and he's a brute and a cad. Fuck this version of Batman. Fuck him, fuck him, fuuuuuuuuuck hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim. The depths to which I hate this stupid, STUPID moron cannot be overestimated. Take the rightfully lambasted Martha scene.

I know the Martha scene is an easy target, but it's far easier than most people realize. Yeah, the fact that he stops fighting Superman immediately because of the coincidence of their mom's names is really stupid, but it also shows just how little Bruce thought about this shit, or about Superman in general. Not only did that catch him by surprise, but the fact that Superman HAD A MOM caught him by surprise, because he hadn't considered to think of him as a person. Think about that. Like, really think about that.

Every incarnation, and I mean EVERY incarnation of Batman that's interacted with Superman has deduced his secret identity as Clark Kent, quickly and easily. For fucks sake, it wouldn't even be that hard, THEY TALK TO EACH OTHER AS CLARK AND BRUCE IN THE MOVIE. But Bruce clearly didn't realize that Superman was Clark Kent at the time, and if he did...what, he did NO fucking research on the dude? This version of Bruce was thoroughly unprepared to face of against Superman, and didn't look into him AT ALL, before immediately jumping to conclusions while wearing that fucking Frank Miller armor of his. And don't get me STARTED on Frank fucking Miller's culpability in the Flanderization of Batman, because we'll be here ALL FUCKING DAY. FUCK THIS BATMAN WITH ALL OF MY HEART AND SOUL.

...OK, I think I got it all out of my system. For now. Seriously, I could keep going on about it, but I got other shit to talk about. Like, for example, a Batman I actually like. A lot.

Is Robert Pattinson's Batman perfect? No. He has issues that plague many of the other Batmen listed here. However, good goddamn, is this version fucking close to perfect. He's intelligent, he's a detective, he uses fear as a tool to fight the underworld, he's clearly a proficient fighter and gadget-user, and maybe most importantly, he actually becomes a hero by the end. Think about this. How many versions of Batman have you seen actually directly save the citizens of Gotham? He usually saves people from afar, or indirectly. Rarely does he save individual people from a crisis like he does in this movie, multiple times. He's a mostly well-balanced version of the character. Mostly.

And that's because...we'll, he's clearly not fucking OK. Look, I like Battinson as much as the next guy, but he's the only Batman who I can confidently say listens to My Chemical Romance on the regular. The dude is the most unstable of the Batmen by far, outpacing even Keaton for the role. But while Keaton seems more like Bruce Wayne dressing up as Batman, and Bale is the opposite, Pattinson is CLEARLY fusing the two identities into the same person. Bruce Wayne is absolutely subsumed by Batman, and he makes no effort to hide that, nor does he seem to care. And honestly, that's an interesting take! He's a very psychologically damaged character normally, and this version makes that far more prominent.

The other major problem I had is the whole "Vengeance" thing. Not calling himself that, necessarily, although it's a little emo for my tastes. It's the fact that he definitely leans more towards vengeance than he does justice. But then again, I say I had that problem because that's actually sort of the point. When we see this version at first, he calls himself Vengeance and acts as such. But by the end...he's just actually helping people. He's a hero, and he acts for justice, not just vengeance. It's his story arc. And that's something that Batman usually doesn't get: actual character development.

I mean, think about it: what do the Batmen actually learn in their journeys? Keaton doesn't really change throughout his films. He's still an eccentric loner who opens up to women out of desperation, but doesn't really learn anything from his struggles. Bale has stuff happen to him most of the time, but I can't say that he changed much between movies. Maybe in the last one, where he gives up the crusade to pursue a life of peace, but is that really the right story for Batman? Affleck...learns not to be an absolute douche-nozzle, I fucking guess. Not a lesson. Just not being a dick. But Pattinson learns to be a hero, and gains a slightly new view of his mission at the end, as well as of Alfred. It's an actual character journey, even though it isn't the strongest one ever. So yeah, he's near perfect, even if he is also a whiny emo teenager who shouts "YOU'RE NOT MY REAL DAD" at Alfred a few times. Yeah, he's good, but he ain't perfect.

So, with all of that said, who is Batman? He's a little emotionally closed off, from himself and from others. He's still a human being with likes and desires, but those likes and desires come second to the journey. He's not a constant brooding loner, but he struggles with his own mental issues and his own obsessions. He's in desperate need of therapy, but prefers to solve his own problems, as he does with most things. He's controlling to sometimes pathological degrees, but never with ill-intent. And he's always prepared as much as he reasonably can be, for any contingency.

Batman doesn't take his nights off much, and overworks himself constantly to fulfill a goal which doesn't truly exist. He's a crusader for justice with and without the mask, and is fiercely devoted to his city and his people. But when he does take a night off, he watches film noir and Zorro. He reads the newspaper, to minimize his screen time and relax a little bit. He likes obscure coffees and beverages, leaning more towards the bitter than anything else. His tastes are obscure and seemingly rich, but are actually worldly and well-informed. He's a brilliant man who hides his brilliance behind silent actions and clever words. And to those who share his vision of a better world, he may be critical, but is also fiercely loyal.

I mean, in a word...he's Batman.

It's funny, but I think Batman has a similar problem to Superman, in an unexpected way. Like Superman, people tend to forget that he's human. Batman, despite his journey and trauma and mission, is absolutely a person, with the same flaws and foibles as a regular person has. And that seems to go without saying, since all versions of Batman have been flawed, right? But if that's the case, why is the character so over-idolized in the public eye, especially by bros who say he's the coolest character ever, who can take anybody in a fight? That limited view and mentality of the character is what gave us the dumbass meathead murderer in Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Jesus Fucking CHRIST This Name Never Gets Less Stupid.

But who's to blame for this? Is anybody to blame for the dehumanization of Batman? Yes. Yes, there is somebody to blame.

Allow me to throw in an emphatic "FUCK YOU, FRANK MILLER" into this essay post, real quick. Is Batman: Year One an influential narrative masterpiece? Honestly, yes. And yes, it informs the modern version of the character. However, this and Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (another great story for the most part, I'll admit) RUINED the character for generations to come. Batman was broken down into a gadget wearing edgelord, with Miller's dialogue and characterization exemplifying that image. Batman: Year One was great, to me, because it brilliantly contextualized Gotham for a new era, not because of "Yes, Father; I will become a bat." Great line, but real edgy.

And by the way, that's not even talking about Miller's rampant misogyny in those books, or the horrendous racist tendencies he would display later on in life. It's also not talking about his horrible artwork, his misunderstanding and horrid mishandling of any character that isn't Batman, or his DISASTROUS modern take on the character that revealed how he ACTUALLY saw Batman as a character. Miller's...not great, and even if these stories gave us some iconic lines and takes, they also caused a lot of harm down the line. After all, the issues with Snyder's Batman can be directly traced to Miller's take on the character.

So, then, with all of that said...how the hell am I supposed to start this one? Yeah, I'm still in the same boat as I was when I began this shit! See, it's all well and good to define my version of Batman, but that's not the only problem here. Because, after all, we've had 8 cinematic iterations of the character and the world he lives in, as well as 10 stories told about the character. And that's not accounting for the numerous animated series, radio plays, serial films, and the COMIC BOOKS. So, how do you tell a story that's interesting to newcomers (of which there can't be many at this point), and faithful to the character and his stories?

Well, I have some ideas on that, of course. But before anything else, let's flesh out the world that he lives in. Last time, I started the Superman essay series by talking about Lois Lane, the Kents, and other supporting characters. And I'll start similarly here, with four major supporting characters getting their own chapters, then going into the world of Gotham and its citizens, the vast gallery of rogues against Batman, and then finally getting into the story of this theoretical movie.

That's the plan, anyway. We'll see how well that holds up, huh?

Part One: Batman Part Two: Alfred and the Waynes Part Three: James Gordon and the GCPD (Coming Soon) Part Four: Gotham City (Coming Soon) Part Five: Joker (Coming Soon) Part Six: The Usual Suspects (Coming Soon) Part Seven: And the Rest (Coming Soon) Part Eight: The Story - Act One (Coming Soon) Part Nine: The Story - Acts Two and Three (Coming Soon) Part Ten: The Story - Climax and Ending (Coming Soon) Part Eleven: Epilogue (Coming Soon)

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

*Shows Shuichi a image of all of the characters of Process of Elimination* Which one of these characters do you think reminds you of any of your friends?

Well, I think it’s pretty clear everyone has been comparing me to the Incompetent Detective...Which is a name I’m only hearing now for the first time...Thanks guys.

The Ideal Detective is an easy one. That’s Mrs Kyoko. After all, she IS the ideal detective, and they even look somewhat similar, with the silvery hair and all.

The Renegade Detective reminds me a lot of Kuripa. They don’t look anything alike of course, but the thing they DO have in common is that they’ll resort to any means necessary to achieve their goals, even murder. 

The Posh Detective is pretty tricky, but she does somewhat remind me of Miu. They aren’t completely the same, but they share an air of boastfulness and see everyone else as a rival.

The Workaholic Detective reminds me of Kirumi, albeit if Kirumi was a charming gentlemen instead of a kind lady maid.

The Downtown Detective is a tough one...But I suppose her peppiness reminds me a lot of Kaede in some ways.

The Mystic Detective has King Tanaka’s style. Whether they’re similar in personality or not remains to be seen.

The Gourmet Detective seems like an odd duck. Her mannerisms sort of remind me of Angie somehow...

The Doleful Detective reminds me of Mr Fujisaki. I’ve always thought Mr Fujisaki was a brilliant and ingenious mind but...he’s very humble and doesn’t seem to think very highly of himself despite that.

The Bookworm Detective reminds me a lot of Maki. This sort of...cold aura about her and how she doesn’t openly trust anyone she meets. It’s funny thinking about it.

The Techie Detective is also difficult. I could say Mr Fujisaki for him as well, but his personality actually seems more like Gonta’s. The fact that he treats his inventions and equipment as friends the same way Gonta does with bugs.

The Rowdy Detective...I don’t know, I know my fair share of rowdy people, but of course the first one that always comes to mind is Kaito. Based on what I’ve seen, they even have similar outlooks on life.

The Armor Detective...Let’s see...I suppose he reminds me a lot of Tenko? Not completely, of course, but...Tenko also has a track history of solving problems with unrivaled tenacity over straightforward thinking. 

And lastly, the Senior Detective...He seems pretty knowledgeable and like a leader. I guess he shares that with Makoto more than anyone else I know.

[thetimelordofhurricane]

Brilliant minds think alike.

They most certainly do! But suppose it would be a great help if you wish to aid me in making it. Might I ask why you asked to help?

[julie-su]

What are your thoughts on Roald Dahl books being edited? I personally find it unnecessary but am curious to hear your thoughts on the matter

Hmmm. It's an interesting topic, for sure - and a loaded one. I can understand the changing of offensive terms, but that doesn't change the underlying themes.

It seems that the focus on the online world is being put on 'we can't say words like fat or ugly anymore!' instead of 'so, about Roald Dahl's antisemetic tendencies...' which is very.. Pointed. I didn't edit them books! But people like me get scapegoated so easily when things like this happen :P but then, it's also bad faith to pretend like the entire argument 'against' is horrid people yelling about wokeists. It is important to quickly address those political undertones of this whole discussion, though.

Eh, in the outside world, you will soon find that most people's opinions on why it should not be edited leans more to 'we should discuss with children why these ideas are wrong' - which is where I sit, as well. Yes, it's kind of silly that they're removing the word 'ugly', but that's not what's really going on in full. That's a bad-faith argument, when there are, erm.. Less silly removals. Multiple counts of blatantly racist comments and names for and about African people, for example..

I do, though, think it's important to keep the content in there. As I said, changing words doesn't change the underlying themes - if the words are all in place, it is then easier to follow the thread through - 'I see, this whole throughline is something to be aware of.' You can change the name, but you can't change the message. The racism, antisemitism, it's still there - it's just harder to spot and disassemble when you merely change the bits that stick out the most.

It's what my parents did with me for the movie Peter Pan, when I was just eight. They did exercises like this in school with us with Pocahontas and Dances with Wolves and a handful of other films and books alike, they showed it to us, and showed us how to identify bias and prejudices in stories. And this was the early 2000's - my parents tell me that they did similar literacy exercises when they went to school in the 70's. This is nothing new, nothing revolutionary - it's the status quo.

Throughout this, it's important to remember, they are still printing the originals - it is up to the parents, ultimately, to decide which version they would like to read to their child. Nothing is being removed, simply another version added. I don't think it's the end of the world, nor is it a horrific tragedy, or some brilliant act - it's just.. Something, once more, to keep in mind. It's intriguing, for sure.

So I suppose my final thoughts are - the books shouldn't be edited, but I can see why that is happening. And that the discussion around it is L-O-A-D-E-D.

[ramp-it-up]

Great Minds

Pairing: Jake Jensen x Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d, SMUT! Read at your own risk. Pining, Angst, nefarious dealings, explicit sex,  dub con voyuerism, masturbation, nipple play,  exhibitionism, a lil’ spit play, Corporal  kink, oral sex (m/f recieving) creampie, cowgirl, sex in the grass/ outside.

A/N: This is in response to the following ask from @nagisaunicorn-blog. And it was supposed to be a drabble. 😪

NOTICE: I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“We have an additional 30 days. I want you to cut back your hours in the lab.”

You looked up into the eyes of the best looking Loser, in your opinion, Corporal Jake Jensen. Him taking charge was such a turn on. You cocked your eyebrow at him.

“You need to be careful, this work is extremely important. That means balancing this work with taking care of yourself. You’re an important asset.”

For the past 15 days, you’d spent 12 hours a day, every day, in the remote lab in the slopes of the Rocky Mountains, eyes strained by staring at a microscope or at the computer screen, barely communicating with the mercenary. 

After all, it was a perfunctory relationship. You were one of the world’s most important scientists, and his mission was to protect you. Your job was to deliver the formula.  You initially had only 30 days to do so. 

Now you had 30 more.

Jake was certainly easy on the eyes, and kind, if a little silly. He wasn’t as goofy as you were warned he would be, but he was observant. He noticed your tired sighs, and heard you tossing and turning in your sleep through the walls of the living quarters. He’d made the call to Clay to extend the mission.

This was very important work, and you were, in fact, exhausted. You’d hardly left the secluded cabin, determined to meet the timeline. You had to save your family, who were in danger if you didn’t perform.

You smiled weakly up at Jake. 

“Great minds think alike.”

He never seemed to meet your gaze. Jake had only looked you in the eye once, when you met him two weeks ago, and he’d hardly said five words to you at one time.  You looked down at your watch. It was only 4pm. You usually worked until 8. But he was right. You needed to be at your best to do your best work.

Jake sensed your silent agreement. It was good the way you two communicated without too many words. Wonderful even. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of you and blow it as he often had before.  He blessed you with a sheepish smile before he turned around to put your materials away, giving you a view of those cakes in his tight jeans.

“Why don’t you take a walk, I’ll make dinner.”

“Thank you, Corporal…”

“Call me Jake.”  

The smile in his voice made you grin at his back.

“Jake…”

Over his shoulder, Jake watched you take off your lab coat and the goggles from your head, wash your hands at the sink, and exit the lab. Then he waited for his heart to slow to its normal rhythm before going to the kitchen.

Jake admired you. More than you knew. You were brilliant and dedicated, and absolutely gorgeous, although he knew that you didn’t think so. You were so different from the vapid women who were usually hanging around the guys. 

You were full bodied, just the way he liked. The way women needed to be. At night he imagined all the ways that he could hold on to your ample body and keep you warm. And safe.

But he wasn’t here for that.

You went to your room and pulled out some leggings and sports bra that lay neglected in your bag. You were full of excitement to see and feel the sun in your skin. You smiled as you tied your athletic trainers on your feet. 

It was a warm evening in the mountains, great for a walk. You hiked and contemplated the next 45 days alone with Jake in the woods as you catalogued the various species of plants and birds in your head.

You daydreamed of the chilly day you first arrived and you witnessed Jake chopping wood to ensure there was enough firewood for a while. The way his muscles rippled was awe inspiring. And arousing as hell. 

Your panties were drenched and you ran to your room before he finished, just in case he could tell when he looked at you. After that, you tried not to linger around him for long. You were horny as hell for him, but you needed to relax.

Because there was no way that he would be thinking the same things you were thinking. There would be no sex by the fireside with Jake Jensen. After all, it was full on too warm for a fire now, and you most certainly weren’t his type, surely, judging from the women you saw him with, but it was fun to dream. 

You weren’t ashamed of your body, but you knew not to waste your time with men that were. You’d learned that lesson the hard way.

There was nothing for miles around, but 20 minutes into your hike, you came across a stream. You were delighted and went along the edge to watch the clear water dancing along the rocks. It looked so refreshing that you took off your shoes and put your feet in the water, leaning back on your hands to enjoy the waning sunlight.

This was heaven.

As he started prepping for dinner, Jake decided that some fresh fish would do just the trick. He remembered that you complimented the fresh mountain trout dinner he’d made last week. In the short time you were together, he discovered that he loved making you smile. He grabbed his pole and as he approached the creek, he heard humming. He went into stealth mode, hiding behind a tree until he saw you, head thrown back, glowing in the sunlight.

He ducked as he saw you look around and bite your lip, eyes mischievous. He got an eyeful of you in your tight workout gear when you stood up to look around again. He felt like a creeper and was about to go back to the cabin as he saw you pull your top over your head. 

Jake’s mouth dropped open as he saw your tits. Now he felt like a stalker, but he couldn’t move, only watch as you stripped off your bottoms and you stood before him, naked.

Jake was so fucking hard that he had to release the pressure in his jeans. He slid his zipper down slowly, stopping when you paused and turned your head as if you heard something. He froze, as you listened, then smiled and shook your head as if you thought something funny and then slowly walked to the water’s edge, giving a view of that luscious, full ass. 

Oh, how he wanted to eat it.

The water was cold, but refreshing against your feet. You had goosebumps, but you plunged ahead, your racing heart compelling you forward. Soon, you were drenched and stood up to let the sun warm you again. You ran your hands down your body, cupping your breasts and sliding your fingers in between your legs.

You were a vision. Before he could think, Jake’s cock was in his hand and he was dry stroking it as he watched you touch yourself. He wanted to touch you, not able to tear his eyes away from you or stop his lewd act. He was out of control. 

He decided to stay hidden, and enjoy you privately. 

No harm, no foul.

You kept splashing water on yourself and massaging your breasts, pinching and rolling your hard nipples. A small moan escaped Jake’s open mouth as he swelled in his hand. He froze as you stopped and looked right toward his tree.

“You like that, Corporal?”

Jake stood stock still and closed his eyes, as if that could make himself disappear. 

“I know you’re there.”

Slowly, his head poked around the tree, giving you a glimpse of his red face underneath his shock of blonde hair.

“I-I’m sorry.I-I… I just…I’m sorry.” 

Jake’s stutter was absolutely adorable. You chuckled at his red face.

“‘S’okay. Come out from behind that tree.”

Jake got even redder. He cleared his throat and looked down at his pink tipped cock in his hand.

“I have an idea of what you’re doing. I heard your zipper.” 

Jake’s eyes widened. 

“You’ve seen mine; now show me yours.”

Jake’s face registered disbelief, then changed from embarrassment to a slow grin. 

“Seems fair,” he quipped as he stepped out with his dick in his hand.

Your eyes were wide now.

“Wow, Corporal. Just wow.”

You looked up from his huge dick to the smirk on his face. 

“You look like you’re happy to see me.” 

You cocked your head at him as you pulled your nipples again and watched him resume stroking, confident at what this was now. He let his jeans fall to the ground and stepped out of them and his shoes.

“I didn't know you liked big girls.”

You shivered and licked your lips as you said it.

“I like real women,” Jake replied as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. 

“Come here and I’ll show you just how much.”

You smiled and walked toward him, eyes on his wet, red lips as he licked them while looking you up and down.

“You’re so hot. I wouldn’t think a woman like you would want to get with a guy like me.”

He bit his lip as you approached him. You stopped in front of him and cocked your head at him.

“What do you mean? A hot, sexy military man who is intelligent and brave?”

Jake grinned and nodded.

“You got a point there.”

You reached out to him. 

“Give me that hand.”

Jake extended his free hand as you shook your head. 

“The other one.”

Jake stropped stroking and you watched his cock bob, glistening with pre cum, as if moving with the slight breeze. Jake watched your nipples pebble as he licked his lips again. He almost didn’t notice your mouth open until the spit almost reached his palm.

“Oh shit!”

Your mouth was wide open as your saliva dripped from your tongue. You slurped and then grinned up at him.

“And you’re a freak too, jackpot!”

Jake made you feel care free. You giggled. 

“I just thought that you needed some lubrication,” you nodded down at his dick. “Go on.”

Jake stared for a minute and then continued jacking himself off. He’d be content to let you watch him finish, but god he wanted to…

“YES!” he yelped and pumped his fist as you got on your knees in the grass in front of him, hands on his thighs and and looking up at him with those eyes. He almost came right there. 

Jake pointed it at you tentatively and sure enough you opened your mouth as he inched the tip of his dick between your lips. You felt a dribble of pre cum as he exclaimed, “Holyyyyyy…”

You sucked his tip so good that he had to close his eyes. He almost fainted as you pulled off with a pop and then proceeded to deep throat him. Then, he had to do breathing exercises to keep from hyperventilating when he looked down and saw that you were playing with your tits again.

“Absolutely gorgeous sucking my dick like that. But I have to.. I need to… I’m about to pass out.”

Part of you wanted to make a man pass out from a blow job, but you couldn’t do Jake like that.

You pulled off and then sat back on your knees, playing with your slick.

Jake watched your hand in between those thighs and wasted no time getting down to that spot. He kneeled before you and you took his cock in your unoccupied hand, jacking him to watch his eyes roll back into his head. You were enjoying the power you had over him almost as much as he was.

Jake enjoyed your hand on him for a couple of minutes, then pulled your hand away from your clit. His stomach flipped at your little whimper as he tasted the juices on your fingers. He wanted that taste in his mouth and that sound in his ears for a long time to come.

“Fucking delicious. Need more.”

Jakes large hands wrapped around your thighs and spread your knees even wider. He took off his glasses and placed them on the ground beside you. He couldn’t wait anymore. 

All of a sudden, you were looking at the tree canopy as Jake nosed between your folds, and you felt his dripping wet tongue take a long swath up your crease.

You arched your back as Jake kept a hold of you, moaning at the way he was eating you out. He alternated between licking and sucking emphatically, shaking his head as he took your clit with him. 

Your hands found his hair and pulled as he added stars to your afternoon sky. 

“F-f-fuck you’re good at that, Jake…” 

Jake nodded, lips still attached to your clit. His eyes emerged from your cunt to glint up at you and watch as your mouth fell open when he inserted his thick middle finger. When your chest started to heave, he curled it toward him, finding that spongy spot, and causing a scream to erupt out of you and startle a nearby flock of birds.

When you opened your eyes, you found him between your thighs, watching your pussy clench around nothing.  He rubbed the lips around your quivering hole, pressing in with his thumbs, but giving you very little of what you wanted.

“Jesus, Jake….”

“So fucking tight. You’re gonna feel so good around me. All of you, all around me…shit.” 

Jake was ready to feel your bounteousness surround him. He was pulling you up easily onto your shaky legs.

“W-what?”

Jake was leading you to his tree.

“You gotta ride me. Wanna feel that jiggle on my dick.”

You giggled nervously as Jake planted himself under the oak. You went toward him as he reached out grabby hands.

“Don’t worry. I got ya.”

You stood above him as he looked up at you, pointing his cock at your cunt. It was like a magnet, you crouched down, not caring that you were getting dirty. All that mattered was that you were getting filthy with Jake,

You kneeled over him and jumped as he swiped his tip at your entrance.

“Fuck this is going to feel good.” 

Jake looked you in the eyes. 

“You ready?”

You nodded as you started to sink down around him. He was so fucking big. It was the stretch for you.

“Ah, ah, ah, Jakeeeee...”

Jake’s head fell back against the tree trunk.

“Fuckkkkkkk. Gorgeous. That pussssyyyyyy. Fuck Fuck fuck.”

Suddenly he opened his eyes.

“I think my favorite thing in this world is stretching you out around my cock.”

His hands were everywhere all of a sudden, grabbing, pinching, twisting, feeling, pulling on your body as you slowly fucked yourself open on him.

“Second only to feeling on this sexy body.”

Now he was fully sheathed inside you, cock pulsing mightily.

“Ohhhh, Jake. Please Jake…”

“It’s up to you, Gorgeous. I’m just living the dream, buried inside you. If you wanna fuck, fuck yourself on my cock.”

“Oooooh….” 

You started moving, slowly at first, obsessed with the drag of him as your pussy tried to pull him back in as your thighs moved you off of him. Jake grabbed handfuls of your ass and wiggled them as you started riding his dick. He was in heaven. He loved the feel of you.

Your tempo increased as you started chasing your high.

“Jake,” you whimpered, pouting at him. “Make me cummmm.”

Jake reached in between your thighs and circled your clit with two fingers and held on for dear life as you detonated around him. He let you ride it out, then flipped you onto your back again, pulled out and then licked your cum from between your legs.

“Dreamed of doing that since we met.”

You chuckled. 

“Who’s a freak?”

“We both are.” 

Jake smiled and then frowned. 

“Listen, I could… I could just finish on your stomach.” 

He looked down at your beautiful fupa and shivered.

“I’m on the pill… so you can…AH!”

Jake speared back into you when he heard ‘pill’ and your pussy clutching him was all he needed to start cumming. He gritted his teeth and groaned to try and stop it. Then you whispered in his ear.

“Give me that cum, Jake. Shoot it all up inside me. Then I’ll lick your cock clean. Suck you dry.”

“OH SHITTTTTTT!!!!!” 

This time Jake scared the birds as he started to spurt.

Jake came inside you, his vision gone white. You had talked yourself into another orgasm, so you helped to milk his spend out of him.

He was on his back and only half heard what you said.

“We’re gonna have to make a fuck/work schedule if I’m gonna have that formula finished in 45 days…”

Jake smiled at the sky. 

“Great minds think alike,” he croaked as you made his toes curl when you kept your promise.

[bbsmuts]

Like OOH-AHH Feat. TWICE Sana

Sana x male reader smut

A/N: I’ve been on vacation with my family in Gwangju and haven’t had time to write, so I’ll catch up with this Sana quickie. Enjoy!

Length: 1.26k

“Oppa, do you know where the screwdriver is? I can’t find it and one of our floorboards is loose.”  Sana’s voice rang across the house to where I was sitting. This took me by surprise. She knew perfectly well that she could have just asked me to fix it and I would have done it before you could say ‘chore’. Although it wasn’t a chore. Anything for her. 

I got up, grabbed the screwdriver from the bar and walked to where she was.  “You do realize you could have just asked right?” I asked, observing her lower half sticking out from under the bed. “Why would I do that?”  “Because I’d do it.”  “Yes Sung-min, but you’re busy with-”    “Since when?” I asked, laughing. “I haven’t got plans today. Here’s the screwdriver anyway, though.”  “Thanks.”  “No problem.” I replied. I still didn’t get why she wanted to do things herself. Maybe it was because she had an independent personality, but asking a favor of your boyfriend wasn’t being dependent.  Technically, I had lied - I did have plans - just not without her. She was the other end of the task at hand, but all of that came later.  It was about three in the afternoon, a perfect time for swimming. I got right back up and walked back into the room, where Sana was emerging from the underside of the bed frame.  “Want to go swimming oppa?”  “That’s literally what I was coming in here to ask.”  She chuckled. “Brilliant minds think alike, I suppose.”  After quickly changing into swimsuits, we headed to our apartment’s outdoor pool. It was mid-November, in other words much too cold for swimming, but I had loved the cold my entire life (Real-life fact, by the way) and Sana didn’t mind it much either.  After a not-so-quick swim in the enormous pool, I got out of the water and saw Sana drying up and sunbathing on a sun chair. I paused for a moment to survey her gorgeous body, put on display by the fairly revealing bikini she was wearing. “You ready to go inside?” I asked.  “Are we in a hurry?”  “Why would we be in a hurry? I’ve got literally nothing to do with the rest of the day. Except…” I smiled.  “Except what?” Sana asked, not seeing the smile on my face that normally would let her know my desire. “I mean, I think I know, because you’re fairly predictable when it comes to our ‘activities’.” She took off her sunglasses. “I should think you’ve guessed correctly.” I said, taking her hand and leading her into our building. 1392 was ours.  I unlocked the door and stepped over the threshold, not even bothering to hang up my key but just slapping it down on the counter.  The two of us headed into the bedroom together but parted ways when she went to the bathroom to change. I didn’t bother, taking off my wet swimsuit and tossing it into my laundry hamper.  I laid myself down on the bed and waited for less than a minute before something stunningly sexy walked out of the bathroom. Completely bereft of any sort of clothing, Sana sauntered sexily out of the bathroom. The very sight was enough to send a rush of blood to my quickly hardening shaft and turn me on to an extreme. I took a moment to take in the fabulous form of her walking towards me. Her skin was pale and entirely flawless, her breasts were just… irresistible. She, desiring as ever, practically leapt onto the bed. In one smooth motion, she lowered herself and sank onto my cock in its entirety, causing a moan to leave both of our mouths. Her toes curled at the sudden burst of pleasure. She began to grind herself on me, soft moans leaving her lips. Those quickly became loud squeals after a couple of minutes as she picked up the pace a little. All I was physically capable of at the moment was just laying my head back and groaning, the feeling of her walls squeezing me starting to have serious effect. She herself was getting close to orgasm, I could tell. Instead of waiting for that time to come around, I decided to hurry the process along a little. I started with the classic trick of pulling back your hips and then thrusting upward, and this did the trick.  “Ah yes oppa, fuck!” Her back arched into a curve and her walls pulsated and contracted randomly as her juices ran freely over me. This sensation was simply too much, and with a loud moan I started cumming inside Sana. Lost for words at the pleasure, Sana just closed her eyes and rode her own orgasm out. Tired out for the moment, she set herself down next to me.  “That was nice, wasn’t it oppa?”  “It was fucking amazing.”  “Same difference.”  Even in a pleasure-addled state she was still capable of a smart response. Classic Sana.  “And to think,” I said, caressing her body as she snuggled up to my chest, “we might not have ever gotten to do this if my boss hadn’t let me off work today…”        “Oh believe me, he would have gotten a piece of my mind.” Sana stated. “No one ruins our fun and gets away with it. But,” she added, eyes glittering with desire and arousal, “we shouldn’t waste our time sitting here.”  “I agree.” I said, disentangling her limbs from mine and getting up. She knew what was coming. She propped herself up on her elbows and readily spread her legs, providing a view that was matched by no other. With not a drop of hesitation I plunged back into her squeezing warmth, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her. It was her turn to be on the receiving end.  “Ooh…” she moaned as I jabbed into her. “Ahh oppa…”        “You do realize what you just said?” I managed through the pleasure. “You literally just said OOH-AHH.”  “Oh, hilarious.” She said sarcastically. This was followed by an involuntary and quite sexy sigh and her head dropping back.  “Enjoying it?”  “Mmm yes…”     This only fueled me on, spurring my primal instinct into action. Enough messing around, I was going to fuck her properly. I set the pace at medium speed but went for power. Power rather than speed.  Her legs curled around my torso and held fast, keeping me locked in, refusing to let go. Eventually she relaxed her legs and settled down under me, perfectly ready to just receive. I was ready to give, so it worked out well. After a little bit, during which a lot of hot sounds came from her, I felt her legs tighten around me and her pussy contract and squeeze crazily as she orgasmed, sending her cum flowing once more. All she was capable of was just gasping, moaning, and finally falling limp as I laid myself down. Her eyes half-open, she haphazardly tossed an arm over my side and scooted closer. Thoroughly satisfied, both of us settled down to take a nap before dinner.    A/N #2: Don’t be expecting a story very often, because I only write in my spare time, and I don’t have a lot of that. And I only write quickies. Sorry for any inconveniences, and requests are always open but might not be granted. Hope you enjoyed the story.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 5

Summary: A very special dinner brings a very special moment for the Darkling and his wife.

Warnings: angst, sexual innuendoes, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four  

=================================

She felt caught in the riptide, finding it hard to stay upright. As the daughter of a general, Y/N had seen so many evils, so much hurt, yet she never buckled under pressure.

Staring at the empty spot beside her, she laid there while battling shadows in her head. So filled with rage, she wondered who she’s becoming as a part of her longed to feel his touch. Perhaps he was right, she’s a foolish girl who is trying to win a game where the rules are nonexistent.

Having stayed awake most of the previous night, she didn’t expect trouble sleeping. With a heavy sigh, she abandoned the bed they shared – it felt too intimate to remain there now. They’ve only ever kissed and it was never planned nor did it happen in the very bed she felt is so incredibly vast, so lonely and cold when he didn’t stay there with her.

Pacing the room as she saw his shadow do the night before, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he had trouble sleeping alone too. It was less than a full week since they married and she already cursed the smallest part of her that seemed to care for him.

Men are easy to love. A woman’s heart was made to care and love those near her. Mistaking love and trust is what a woman should never do. Love and trust are separate entities, one is given, the other must be earned.

Remembering her mother’s words eased her self-loathing. If she dared to love the Darkling, it wasn’t entirely under her control. Trusting him was different. She wasn’t as naïve as to allow the echoes of her heart dictate what her mind long acknowledged – he isn’t trustworthy.

And as the stars rise in the sky, she paced the room tirelessly. Arguing with herself, she paid no mind to the night sky she loved so much. If she had, Y/N might have realized a man with dark skies for eyes had trouble looking away from her shadow.

Exhausted, Y/N rose with the dawn. She had barely scraped up a few hours of decent sleep, tormented by his words even in dreams.

“Enter”, she yawned as Genya readily walked inside. The maids rushed to the bed, willing to change the bed sheets they couldn’t last time as Y/N had sent them away.

“Stop!” She exclaims as they reach Kirigan’s side of the bed, a slightly panicked look on her face relaying uncontrollable desires she had no chance of understanding.

Frowning, Genya licked her lips. While Y/N wasn’t sure what caused her outburst, she believed to know the root. “Leave us. You will be asked to change the sheets when Y/N desires it.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N turned away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”, Genya mussed. “We have a dinner to prepare you for.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/N managed a smile, briefly looking to Genya. “I’ll be alone which gives me a perfect chance to find new allies.”

Blinking fast, Genya’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure who could ally with us in the Palace. Everyone’s charmed by our General. If you’d just work with him, they would all be with you too.”

“He works for the emperor.” Y/N reminded her.

Running her hands through her hair, Y/N didn’t know if she could ever trust him enough to tell him the truth. Her plans, her fight, it’s her life’s work. She came into that palace with intention of burning it down. The emperor must die and anyone else who’d fuel the flames of war must perish along with him. The war had claimed her mother’s life, of thousands of humans and Grisha alike, Y/N aimed to end it. And to end it, she had to destroy those who started it, those who refused to implement equality between species, as Kirigan called them. Humans and Grisha must be seen equally worthy, they must ally or they will be exterminated like vermin by surrounding enemies.

She grieved for her mother every day, even now as a decade had passed. Grief is really just love one cannot give to the other. It’s all the unspent love, gathering in the corners of her eyes, the lump in her throat and inside the hollowed heart that’s trying to beat in her chest. If her sorrow was but snow that could melt with coming spring, she’d shake it off her shoulder and be done with it. It doesn’t just disappear or heal with time, she could not just let it go and forgive. Y/N survived the loss of her mother by making a vow, one she was closer to fulfilling.

“Should I prepare your usual kefta?” Genya asked, holding the blue one over her forearm.

Shaking her head, Y/N turned to her with a smile. If she wants to succeeded, she must use all weapons at hand. Being the General’s wife is one of the weapons at her disposal.

“I was thinking about a different color for tonight.”

“How different are we talking?”

Smirking, Y/N’s eyes flickered to Kirigan’s kefta. “Black.”

“No one wears black but Kirigan”, Genya reminds her.

“Until he married. I believe I’m allowed to wear his color.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Genya sighed heavily. “Alright. As long as you allow me to make a few modifications.”

Anticipating the dinner, Y/N felt like a goddess in the kefta Genya had crafted for her. It fit her perfectly, adjusted just above the waist as it properly accentuated her curves. The closed collar wrapped around her neck, fallen stars creating a golden woven blaze as a necklace, while moondust adorned the long, skin tight lacey sleeves. The bottom acted as a floor length dress with a long slit revealing skin up to middle of her thigh.

Entering the room with her head held high and Genya on her hand, Y/N felt even more confident about the eclipsed sun stitched across her heart. It was bound to attract attention if the rest of her makeshift kefta inspired dress didn’t.  

The moment she took a step inside, everybody’s head turned. The chatter died down, replaced by astonished gasps of pure awestruck admiration.

“I believe you’ve created a masterpiece”, Y/N whispers to Genya whose smile widens.

“You are what makes it so spectacular”, Genya winks.

“Don’t be modest. We both know it’s not in your nature.”

Giggling, Genya nods, “You’re right. I’m brilliant and this”, she steps aside to give her a once over again, “You are proof.”

Pursing her lips, Y/N felt her cheeks darken. Her plan was to draw attention so any potential ally she speaks to would be more inclined to accept her request, but she didn’t expect for everyone to stop and stare.

Tugging her by the arm, Genya pulled her closer. “You’ll never guess who is here”, she spoke in a hushed tone, looking to the left as the rest of the guests began speaking again and the music played softly in the background.

Following her line of view, Y/N’s heart came to a near stop as her eyes locked on his.

“Wasn’t he supposed to leave last night?” Genya whispers, but Y/N could hardly speak.

Breath caught in her throat, Y/N stared back at Kirigan who seemed to be just as breathless. She looked like a dream, a golden bird that carried all the happiness of the world on its wings.

“He didn’t”, Y/N looked away, knitting her eyebrows. “Why didn’t he”, she tried to finish her initial thought, but she couldn’t. If she spoke of the sudden ache that settled after the initial shock of his presence dispersed, she’d hate herself more. She’s weak if her feelings are hurt by a single night spent alone in a bed. She was certain now. She is foolish.

“You won’t be able to network tonight”, Genya’s frown made Y/N chuckle.

“You’ve been frowning so often since we met.”

Shrugging, Genya leaned in discreetly. “I can afford a few worry lines. I’ll just erase them later.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N smiled brightly. She would not allow Kirigan to dampen her mood. He can stay on his side of the room and she won’t spare him a single glance.

“I’ll test the waters”, Genya promised, “If I find anyone that we can work with, we can test their loyalty later.”

Glancing over Y/N’s shoulder, Genya’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

Frowning lightly, Y/N glanced at what has her so perplexed only to huff in frustration.

“Black suits you”, the Darkling compliments her. Holding out a hand for her to take, he glances at his open palm before raising his brow. He’s challenging her.

Looking around, she realizes everyone’s waiting for her reaction. As he told her once before, they may not be a love match, but their arrangement must seem successful to the unsuspecting eye.

“Dance with me and pretend they don’t exist”, his voice softened and she couldn’t believe this is the same man who so cruelly baited her, branding her as foolish earlier. How can he act as if nothing happened when she was still reeling from it? Not that he’d know, she always put care in every move she made around him.

She placed her hand on the palm of his, holding her breath as she chained her gaze to the abyss in his. There’s no going back, she thinks, nearly shuddering as he places his free hand on her hip.

“I thought you were gone by now”, she mussed. Choosing to take control of the conversation, she kept her neck straight as it secured a proper distance between their faces.

“We had a slight delay”, he said, “I’ll be gone tonight.”

Humming, she swallowed thickly. Avoiding looking at others, she remained in a staring match with her husband.

“How did you sleep?” The Darkling smirked, watching her eyes narrow at him.

“Quite well. Did you enjoy sharing your bed with someone else?” While her voice seemed cold and unattached, her words were anything but.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?” Pursing his lips, he nearly laughed as she stepped on his foot. “I’ll take that as yes.”

“I’m merely concerned how it would look if word of you sleeping elsewhere got out. I prefer my pride and honor untouched and if you choose to find a lover, I should assume you’ll be discreet.”

Licking his lips, the great general didn’t laugh at her or sneer. There was no angry squinting or vile words. For once, he had a serious expression on his face that had nothing to do with the army or their arguments.

“I’m not the kind who would seek a lover while married. Even if the marriage is a mere arrangement.”

Scoffing, she clenched her jaw as he pulled her waist closer to him. 

“How many lovers have you taken?”

He raised a brow, “That’s a horrible question.”

“Because you lost count?” She narrows her eyes, the lips he found himself so fascinated with formed a thin, red line.

He doesn’t respond, so she tried again, “Why have you not married before?”

Now he looked amused, “That’s even worse!”

Shrugging, she smirks, “Well, ask me a question then! If all mine are so awful, let me hear yours.”

“Do you think I’m a very good liar or a very unlovable being?” Slowly pulling her body flush against his, Darkling looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never loved anyone and I’ve manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me. So?” Inhaling sharply, he watched a disarray of emotions cross her face as he asked again, “Liar or unlovable?”

“A liar. Because you are lying, not just to me but yourself.” Her breathing is shallow, strained even. “You have a heart, General, but you’re cowering like a scared little boy instead of just facing the facts.”

“And what are those?” His voice is darker as are his intentions.

If they were alone, she was certain he’d be kissing her lips now. For some reason, it seemed he enjoyed their arguments. He liked it when she fought him almost like he didn’t know any other form of affection.

“That you care. You care and you hate yourself for it.” Stopping their dance, she managed a faint smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not spending my time waiting for you to accept it.”

Brushing his fingers across the left side of her face, he cocked his head ever so slightly, “Is it possible you’ve got this all wrong? From where I stand, you’re the one who cares – perhaps a bit too much? Let me remind you, this marriage is a sham. You are my wife, but I do not love you, I do not care for you and if you were killed right in this very spot, I would avenge you but solely for the arrangement to remain unsullied.”

Nodding, more to herself than him, she took a step back from him. For the first time ever, she drew back. “For once, we’re on the same page of the same book.”

The music stops. Looking to the man clinking his glass, Y/N’s lips part. She didn’t even realize it, but too often she entirely forgoes breathing in Kirigan’s presence.

Taking a deep breath, she nearly laughs. Kirigan…General…The Darkling. She even called him husband, yet she never even heard his first name. How odd is it to marry a man whose first name is a mystery to you, she thought.

“If you’ll excuse me”, she nods curtly without sparing him a glance. 

Her seat at the dinner table was beside Genya, while Kirigan was placed all the way on the other side of the room. She smirked, satisfied she’ll have some peace during her meal. She never quite liked the table formation in a wide U form before, but she blessed the ones who created it on this evening.

Studying him from afar, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. It wasn’t some cosmic connection that she hoped she’d share with her husband, rather wishful thinking. Longing for him is out of the question. He may be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it’s not at all something she’d thank the saints for. If he were less appealing, she’d at least be free of torment his looks bring. The devil is real and he’s not a goat like man as humans believed. There are no horns, no tails – he’s beautiful, a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.

“You’re staring at him again”, Genya speaks in a hushed tone, her smile audible.

“I’m not”, Y/N replies, “I simply looked over in a direction and he happened to be seated there.”

“Then why was that look on your face?” Genya raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Y/N asks, incredulous. “What look?”

“You have a certain way of looking at him”, she informs. Letting out an tired huff, Genya explains, “You look at him and it’s like you’re staring at the night sky littered with stars.”

“So?”

Genya looks down before whispering, “You love night skies littered with stars.��

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stared at her food for the rest of the evening. One bite after another and her plate was quickly emptied. Her stomach felt like it would burst, but she didn’t care. Most people claim they can’t eat under stress, but she was the opposite – her appetite only grew.

“He’s standing up”, Genya informed her and despite wishing she remained impassive, Y/N’s eyes shot up to where he was sitting.

With a lump at the back of her throat, she watched him as he headed to the door. A part of her hoped he’d be decent enough to bid his farewell, to acknowledge her at least. That part of her needed to be destroyed, she decided. It’s the part of her that would ruin her mission and for what? If she truly wanted to, she could have him on his back and under her. If she wanted him, he’d be hers – at least his body would. The principle she held onto was more important and so, she swallowed thickly and looked to her empty plate in order to stop her weakness from showing.

As she looked away, the Darkling looked back at her from across the room. He felt a strange tightness in his heart and once he saw she didn’t follow him with her gaze, his heart dropped. Furrowing his eyebrows, he kept his gaze on her for a while longer – her beauty was unmatched by anything he had ever seen. White looked good on her, every color did – but black fabric hugging her curves could bring a dead man back to life.

With a heavy heart and frown etched on his face, the Darkling turned his back and left the room, the Palace, the strangest, most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on.

He carried her in his thoughts ever since. It aggravates him how quickly she’s gotten under his skin. Most of the month before their marriage was finalized was spent in petty comments about their armies or their distaste for one another. She was insufferable, maddening and entirely different from what he expected.

And yet, even then, the Darkling hoped she’d lose her patience and either leave or tell him she loves him. If she left, he’d be free of her and the shackles of an undesirable marriage, but if she told him she loves him, perhaps he’d believe her. If he knew there was ever a possibility of her loving him, he’d dare assume he might be deserving of love – because she may have dubbed him a liar, but he believes himself to be unlovable too. He never saw the point in allowing himself to feel a thing for her when it would be futile, wasted emotions on a woman sworn to hate him.

Once he was done chasing a rumor of a stag up north, the Darkling had to accept it too was a futile. Going after a legendary animal wasted so much of his time that he couldn’t even believe how foolish he’s become too. The stag must not be real after all.

Approaching Little Palace, he felt almost eager to run up to their shared chambers and see her. Even if she’d likely have a few choice words for him, he hoped he could make her blood boil just to hear her speak. He’d never admit it, but he missed someone he could converse with without dying of boredom.

“General”, Genya rushed to Kirigan who nearly growled at the distraction. However, Genya seemed distraught, panicked enough to draw his attention.

“Yes?”

Swallowing thickly, she wiped a stray tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s Y/N.”

His heart stops at the sound of her shaky voice, his jaw clenching before speaking. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“She went for a ride this morning and she hasn’t been seen since.”

Darkling’s gaze hardens as he grips Genya’s arms and shakes her lightly. “What do you mean?!”

“We sent riders after lunch, because I was worried she missed two meals already”, gasping for air, Genya’s tears made tracks, “The snow covered her tracks.”

She left me, he thought. She deemed me unlovable, unworthy. She left.

“They managed to find her mare”, Genya continues through tears, “It was decapitated and left in the woods.”

“Woods?” He frowns, wondering why she’d stray from the meadow and then he realized. He’s the one she rode into the woods with. She must have thought the woods were safe. They were at the time, only because he was with her and he’d never let any harm come to her.

“There were signs of struggle, but the snow is making it hard for us to track them.”

Releasing a visibly shaken Genya, he grunts. Biting his lower lip, he paced before her as his hand ran through his hair. She never saw him so worried, so mad before. He looked like a man walking a fine line – a line between madness and sanity.

“Call everyone”, he orders, “We must find her.”

Exhaling in relief, Genya smiled as Ivan emerged, having heard everything.

“Why would we do that?”

A pause ensues as the Darkling takes a step toward Ivan. “I haven’t made a promise in so long”, he spoke but in truth, it’s been hundreds of years since he made anyone a promise. “I promised her I’d protect her.” His voice was ragged, but controlled. “So I’m making a new promise right here, if they harm a single hair on her head, I will end them all. I will do it with a smile on face and I will bathe in their blood!”

They took her from him and he had every intention of ripping the world apart with his bare hands and for once, the thought of how far he’d go for that insolent woman didn’t frighten him. He barely knows her, he certainly doesn’t love her, but Saints help those who touched his wife.

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007​ @rangotangomango​ @kaitlyn2907​ @thestoryofmylife9​ @shelivesindaydreamswme​ @hxrgreeves​ @safetyhtom​ @kaqua​ @savannah-elliott​ @all-art-is-quite-useless​  @azure23x​ @girlmadeofavocados​ @ashdab2611​ @acciorudolphx​ @ladyblablabla​ @wckedheart​​ @xceafh​ @sanna2020​ @tarkanelima-blog​ @takethee​ @mellifluous-cosmos​ @marvel-ousnesss​ @tea-effect​ @starlightofsolaria​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @blackbirddaredevil23​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @slytherinsbiggestproblem​ @within-thehollowcrown​ @notthatchhavi​ @musicconversedance​​ @astrosmayhem   

Part 6

[achillieus]

we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, angst, too much tension, bucky and reader are stupid and in  denial, sexual tension all around the place

tagging: @tonystankschild​

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 2/3:

And then it’s the last week of February and you have an assignment together, you and Bucky, the boy with black hair and a mind that you’re certain is not as clever as he insists it is. You know this cannot possibly end well. You feel it when he sits beside you and his knee brushes past your leg. You feel it when you take a breath and smell his aftershave. Sandalwood and vanilla. It makes you want to lick your lips. Please, get a grip. You try to get away, even propose to write the whole thing alone so you wouldn’t have to spend any time around him. In your mind, you call it self defense. But Bucky’s boastful and you can see him pumping the muscles in his neck, trying to intimidate you.

“My dorm, tomorrow at 7,” he says “Don’t be late.”

-

(your late night instagram search history)

(00:38 AM) #literaturememes

(01:15 AM) @buckybrns

(01:30 AM) #newgirl

(01:50 AM) @buckybrns

(02:10 AM) @buckybrns

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when he’s not around.

-

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that everyone, boys and girls, adore him alike. He’s charming, he’s crafty, he’s brilliant. He’s everything they want him to be and even more. It nearly condones his megalomania.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s aware he has an audience. Always plans his moves, knows how to play his character perfectly. He wears dark designer jeans and plain Henley shirts, buttons open, fabric tight around his biceps. Sometimes even a black leather jacket and a tag necklace. Girls are intrigued by the bad-boy, straight A student contrast, while the boys are envious enough keep him close and invite him to all of their parties. Bucky gives them whatever they need.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s utterly lonely. He has never said so, but it’s the truest thing about him. He has Sam. But for how long? Bucky’s used to people going away. It has been imprinted on him. His best friend, Steve, left with his girlfriend in an exchange program last month and Natasha, the one girl he ever came close to loving, just started dating Clint Barton. Clint fucking Barton. What a downgrade.

And then there’s you, sitting at the end of his bed, playing with the ring in your finger, reading some neatly written lecture notes. Usually, Bucky would think about 129 cheeky comments he could make to a girl in his room. But not to you. Are you sure, Bucky? He has grown accustomed to disliking you. It’s the one constant he has left and he’s not planning on losing it.

He leans down and takes the place next to you, a bottle of beer dangling loosely in his hand.

He offers and you decline.

“We need to concentrate on the project.”  

“You’re the biggest killjoy.” Bucky says with a hint of a smirk.

“I’m studying, Bucky.” He can see your left hand holding that dark green pen in a tight grip and your eyes trying to focus everywhere but on his face. He can see your hair glistening in the warm afternoon light that comes from his window. He can see the soft red blush on your cheeks and the beauty mark on your neck. What a tricky thing it is to see. And to feel. And to want.

Is that what dislike tastes like, Bucky?

-

He talks a lot, that’s the first thing you notice. He says all sorts of things, most of them having nothing to do with your project. You’re certain it’s because he’s feeling as uncomfortable and agitated as you. But still, it’s annoying as hell.

“Listen,” you say and turn to his side “I’m not going to fail this class just because you have the attention span of a two year old.”

A laugh escapes his lips and you watch, completely in awe, the way little wrinkles form around his eyes and his nose scrunches. Right now, he looks tender and warm. No, he doesn’t.

“I think we’re both pretty smart,” Bucky says nonchalant and wets his lower lip with his tongue, before he adds, “We’ve got this, so relax doll.”

There are rules, things that are solid, de facto.

Example 1: Bucky never praises you. At least not out loud.

Example 1: Not valid anymore.

Example 2: Bucky uses the word “doll” approximately ten times a day. To other girls. The girls he likes. Not to you.

That’s actually wrong, he called you doll the first time you met. That doesn’t count. He didn’t know you then.

Example 2: Not valid anymore.

It feels foreign. Pleasant and beguiling, but foreign.

“You always call girls “doll”. What is this?” You ask and he looks up. “Is it like your thing, your flirt move?”

Bucky meets your gaze, his forehead creased, and holds it for some seconds before he laughs again. Is this amusing him?

“No, I’m serious.” You bite your lip. “You even did it to me when we first met.”

“I did?”

Of course he doesn’t remember, what did you expect?

“Yeah, when you helped me find the admission office.”

“And you remember that, an entire year later?” He raises his eyebrows, looking entertained and partly interested.

Your mind empties and for some time you feel out of place, embarrassed. But you’re quick to recollect yourself. You can’t let him get you.

“It was my first day as a college student, I remember all of it.”

Liar. You don’t even remember who you sat next to.

Bucky smirks a little too long for your liking and then he leans in, his body bending in a way that makes you forget to breath. He’s so close and you only see blue, a rare kind of blue between the depths of the ocean and the brightest shade of the sky at noon. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t that handsome. Handsome and indomitable. What an awful combination.

“Interesting.” He whispers and lies back, touching the wall.

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and clear your throat.

“I should go, it’s obvious we’re not making any progress.” You pick your books and stand up. “Sometimes I wonder how you get all those perfect grades, you clearly-” You merely finish your sentence before he grabs your arm and swiftly, he has you pressed against his wooden bookcase. You don’t have time to blink.

What’s happening? He was sitting down a second ago.

“That day,” he says while his thumb draws circles on your wrist. “You were wearing a denim dress and some Saturn shaped earrings. And you were holding a cherry juice box.”

It’s utterly terrifying how your emotions toss and turn the moment you realize what he’s talking about and the fragile muscles of your heart ache because Bucky cares. Bucky remembers.

“It wasn’t my first day of college, but I remember.”

You want to throw up. Or kiss him. You’re not sure. You know you hate Bucky. Do you? You’ve taught yourself to. And it was never supposed to change. It shouldn’t have to.  

You part your lips to say something, anything, but he shakes his head and steps back.

“You should go.”

And you do. And you’ll never tell him, but you’ll always regret not kissing him then. You’re sure now.

-

your inbox, the next morning

(10:25 AM) from buckybrns@gmail.com

              I’m sending you our assignment. You only need to add a few things and it’s done. If anything else comes up, it’s better we work on our own.

-

For Bucky, it all came crashing down the moment he first saw you. It was all over the moment his eyes met yours. A gourmand perfume lingered in the air around you that day and it stained his pores. And it’s been with him since then. Clinging onto his flesh.

It’s partly obsessive and partly romantic and Bucky tries to keep it locked inside. He thinks he can make it go away easily, the way he flicks a crumb off his expensive cashmere scarf. He thinks if he doesn’t talk about it, it’ll be less true. That’s not how things work, Bucky.

Yeah, he’s starting to notice.

And he’s trying so hard to hate you. The problem is, he doesn’t think he can.

(his late night instagram search history)

(00:45 AM) #tomfordperfumes

(01:30 AM) @y/n

(01:50 AM) #funnycats

(02:15 AM) @y/n

(03:45 AM) @y/n

-

You make it your mission to avoid him and it’s going well until the fifth of March. You spot him at Sam Wilson’s party. You should have known he’d be here, they’re friends. There’s a thick cloud of cigarette smoke all around, but still, you can perfectly see him. He’s standing alone, his skin changing colors under the neon lights, a plastic cup in his hand, eyes crystal blue and swollen and fixated on you.

The room is small and everything feels known but unfamiliar at the same time; the atmosphere, his gaze, the lump on your throat.

They’re suffocating you, the looks you give each other.

-

“Buck, what do you want?” Sam asks, holding both vodka and gin and he observes the way Bucky merely turns his head to look at him.

What do you want Bucky?

Not to play a role anymore. For Steve to be back. Maybe, Natasha. No, he hasn’t thought about her in a month. Perhaps a Pulitzer Prize. Definitely a new pair of sunglasses. But there is one more answer he has behind his teeth.

Y/N, he almost says. Always.

“Vodka.”

-

He leaves before midnight and you can’t remember where the urge came from, yet you’re following him. You know he has noticed. But he just keeps walking until he reaches the door of his dorm and presses his back against it. He sees you and you see him and his eyes cut your heart open.

“Your place is on the other side of the building.”

“I know,” you mumble, “I just never got to say good job on the assignment and I wanted to.” You are unable to meet his eyes. You sound pitiful and you want to hit a wall; with your head.

Why the hell did you follow him here?

Because sometimes you do stupid things.

Bucky mockingly opens his mouth, as if shocked. It almost makes you groan.

“Did Miss high and mighty just comment something nice about me?”

“Why do you have to contradict everything I say?”

He shakes his head and you can feel your heart beat loud and irregular and it’s not because you’re mad. It’s because he’s coming closer, almost chest to chest now. And it’s because you can swear, he just glanced at your lips.

“Someone has to, you can’t act like you know everything all the time.”  

“I don’t do that, you don’t know a thing about me Bucky.”

“Oh, but I do. You’re Y/N, you like plaid skirts and Homer and dark green pens. You expect everyone to be perfect. You expect yourself to be perfect. And you always want to do the right thing.”

His pupils are dilated. Yours must be too. Bucky Barnes is dangerous and fatal. He makes your blood coil and your mouth dry. And there’s a tension, almost pain, almost agony, deep in your lungs and it burns. And you don’t know who leaned in first, probably you because Bucky isn’t that brave yet, but suddenly your hands are everywhere. Your fingers blending in his hair, his digging in the skin on the back of your neck. He’s bringing you closer and it’s a mess and all you can hear is the beating of your heart; a rapid vibration between your ears. It’s pure and raw and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

He tastes like ambrosia and a year-old despair and you think you can go on forever. You eventually break apart because you both need to breath and for a second you worry because he looks like he’s ready to cry, but instead he smiles, softly touching your cheek.

“Did I do the right thing?” You whisper.

...

feedback is so appreciated and motivates me tons, thank you :)

[lialacleaf]

The Spartan and His Pyro- Confession part 2- Master Chief X OC

Sometimes the biggest misunderstandings stem from our deepest insecurities.

He wasn’t sure when she’d become the brightest part of his day, but that such was the case became very apparent to him when she began to feel gray. He didn’t know why she was like a ray of sunshine to him, but it was undeniable that he felt lighter inside when her smell lingered on his clothes after the night Blue Team had spent cave dwelling. 

Ever since, the only thing on his mind had been how well she fit in his hands. Like she belonged there. 

He found himself wondering if there was some excuse he could fabricate to recreate the situation that had called for such action, or if the fact that he desired it was reason enough. 

John watched as Catherine laid back against the bench in a secluded corner of the bench, preparing to lift a bit more weight than she usually did. His eyes narrowed on her form as she struggled with it for a moment, lowering the bar twice before her arms began to shake. He was moving towards her in a heartbeat, brushing past other marines and Spartans alike.

He was two feet from the redhead when a hand shot out to catch the bar as her arms buckled, but it wasn’t Johns. The Chief locked eyes with Spartan Thorne, his nostril flaring ever so slightly before he forced a calm breath in and out. 

Catherine hadn’t noticed him yet, offering Thorne a grateful smile that made the Master Chief’s stomach churn. He took another deep breath. “I think that’s enough for today.” 

The redhead jumped, her head whipping in his direction. “I’m fine, Chief. Just a little accident.” She seemed nervous for some reason, and he couldn’t quite place why. Had his observation of her interaction with the Spartan IV upset her? 

“An accident that could have broken your neck,” If Thorne hadn’t been there. John watched her shoulders practically wilt, and he may as well have been stabbed in the gut. No, he hadn’t meant it like that. 

“What your commander is trying to say is we prefer your head on your shoulders,” Thorne said, bumping her shoulder. 

Shut up. John blinked in surprise as the thought slipped into his head before he could stop himself. But then Catherine chuckled, and the Chief felt his shoulders tense. Stop making her laugh. He wasn’t good at making her laugh. 

Without another word, he turned on his heel, but not before nodding respectfully to the other Spartan, and returned to his own workout. He didn’t like the ugly jealousy bubbling in the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate. He was supposed to be a leader, an example. A protector to his team. That didn’t give him the right to bare his teeth at fellow soldiers who intended no ill will. 

At least he doubted Thorne had no ill will. Catherine was an attractive woman, with brilliant hair and sparkly eyes. Even if she didn’t realize it, she caught the attention of more than a few men on the Infinity. Including the Master Chief himself. 

~

It was late in the evening when he found her in a private section of the Rec Hall. She’d curled up on a large sofa, watching reruns of an old television show on the home theater screen. “You’re up late,” he murmured, taking a seat beside her. 

The redhead glanced in his direction, her gaze not rising to his face as she fiddled with her hands in her lap. “I needed to speak to Linda. I didn’t feel like going to bed afterwards.”

“Can I ask what about?” His hand hovered over her shoulder contemplatively for a moment, before settling there as a comforting weight. 

“Just… a personal problem. Something stupid and emotional. It was a distraction, I was hoping she could help clear my head, but now I just feel even more confused.” Catherine pulled her knees up to her chest, making herself look even smaller.  

What was she supposed to say to him? That she felt this pressure, this strain in her chest knowing he was just out of reach. That it was eating away at her little by little? He probably wouldn’t understand. 

John tilted his head curiously at her. She was upset, it seemed. With what he couldn’t discern. Herself maybe? Did she feel she’d done something wrong? He knew she could be hot tempered, and somewhat emotional when it came to making decisions. He’d experienced it first hand when she’d originally been placed on Blue Team. 

She had quite the tongue when she was displeased with someone. Especially in the early days of their partnership when she hadn’t known how to take orders. It had been annoying at first, until he’d begun to understand that something about her wasn’t entirely right. 

After months of time to grow into her place on Blue Team, and a lot of patience on his part, they had found a rhythm that worked. He had a feeling, however, that a large part of why they got along so much better now was due to her deeper understanding of his Spartans, and himself for that matter. 

“Maybe I could offer some advice?” He could have pinpointed the moment her heart dropped into her stomach if he was going off the way her face flushed and her eyes widened. 

“Oh. I…that’s-” A terrible idea? A one way ticket to embarrassment town? Or maybe…insightful. “It’s not important, but I suppose…if it’s not too trivial.

The Chief wasn’t sure if he should read her reaction as a positive one or not. She had agreed, but she’d seemed rather hesitant to do so. 

“If it was too much to ask I wouldn’t have offered.”

Catherine bit her lip, nodding as she puffed out her cheeks anxiously. “Right. Well…” Get on with it. “There's a guy. An…attractive guy.” John raised a brow at her and Catherine wanted to slam her head into a wall. “A guy who…who I may have feelings for.”

The Chief felt as if his chest had suddenly become very hollow, the hand on her shoulder becoming heavier than it had before. The slip of emotion was gone in seconds however as he cleared his face into an emotionless mask. “Oh?”

“Yeah, and until now I’ve just ignored it,” she explained with a nervous laugh. “But it’s becoming more of a distraction.”

John nodded, trying to seem invested in her rambling, but his mind was far away. Was it Thorne? They had merely seemed to be casual acquaintances, but maybe that was all it took. The spartan forced himself out of the envious corner of his mind, his eyes settling on her soft frown as she stared at her hands in her lap. 

He really had no right to be upset. He held no claim over her. If being with Thorne would make her happy, who was he to keep her from that? It was his job as her commander and her friend to care for her. Even if it meant pushing aside the weight in his chest. 

“Have you considered speaking to him directly about the issue?”

Catherine chuckled softly, wiping a palm across her face. “I doubt that would be workplace appropriate given the circumstances. The last thing I want is to make anyone uncomfortable.” John couldn’t help but think it was too late for that. “Besides, he’s a little…out of my league,” she admitted, and the Chief’s eyes narrowed. 

Thorne wasn’t out of her league. Who had given her that sort of idea? He’d be damned if anyone made her feel as if she wasn’t good enough. “You’re greatly underestimating your value if that’s really what you believe,” the Chief said gruffly. 

Her eyes widened in surprise at the declaration, and John wondered if he’d just shown his hand. “You think so?”

“Does it matter what I think?” 

Catherine’s eyes softened, her hand settling atop his, and John felt as if he was going to be sick. This was it. This was all he would ever get. “Of course it does. You’re my friend.”

Her Friend. John let out a deep sigh as he squeezed her shoulder. “I think you should tell him. Write it down if that’s less daunting.”

Catherine laughed softly, much to the Spartan’s surprise. “You mean write a love letter?” 

He really wished she hadn’t called it that. “I suppose so.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad I guess. I’ve already written a few anyway,” she mumbled, her facing growing rather red again. 

At first he didn’t catch it, until he did, and the spartan felt his jaw go slack. “Wait,” he rumbled in that low voice of his. “Is that what Kelly took-”

“Oh no. Can we please not talk about that,” she murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

John swallowed thickly. Thank God he hadn’t read whatever was in that letter. 

[holden-norgorov]

I was wrong: an apology for Show!Kaz.

Listen, at first I didn't even want to write this post down, but as I noticed that a considerable amount of people have been showing disappointment toward Kaz not being "smart enough" in comparison to the book, I feel the need to point some things out with the hope of making you re-evaluate your line of thinking.

The thing is, Kaz Brekker in the show is a character that very much grows to book-readers with a needed careful and attentive rewatch.

I binged the whole season in a consecutive-7h-long binge-watching session during April 23rd, and came out of it feeling mildly disappointed with the way Kaz had been written (but not portrayed; Freddy was truly amazing). The one aspect that really bugged me at first was that his typical modus operandi when it came to plotting and scheming (by which I mean, keeping the big picture of his plans to himself and revealing just tiny pieces to everyone else according to each one's strengths and weaknesses, so as to make sure to reach the maximum potential of success while risking failure as little as possible) seemed to be kinda absent. I could easily make peace with Kaz not being as ruthless as he is in SoC, because the writers couldn't possibly make only-viewers willing to root for someone like Kaz without presenting at least some way in which he was vulnerable compared to other villainous characters. And to be honest, the fact that Kaz was ambushed by Pekka and forced to his knees not only nicely ties up with him wishing for Pekka to kneel in front of him at the beginning of SoC, but it also provides a reason as to why he would become closed-off and hesitant to apologize to Inej in the future. He was so concerned and willing to openly apologize to Inej in this scene that he lowered his guard enough without thinking and ended up giving Pekka access to Inej's name and revealing to him his own soft spot for her, before being beaten up.

That said, this was not my issue with the character. My issue was with the absence of his modus operandi as a masterful planner. I just didn't feel it during the binge-watch. But then I carefully rewatched the show, paying close attention to the actual succession of events more than to how accurate the characterization of the Crows was compared to the books. And I completely changed my mind.

If you pay attention, you can see that Kaz has been manipulating Arken from the very beginning, and everything Arken has accomplished was made possible because Kaz wanted it to happen, so that Arken would believe to be one step ahead of him and not see his betrayal coming. He quickly realizes that he and Arken think alike, and that he has to find a way to outsmart him.

As soon as the Conductor appears in the show, Kaz points out that he reached out to him not only because he can make them cross the Fold, but also because he smuggles Grisha who are unwilling to fight out of the Little Palace. He immediately grasps that the Conductor actively profits from the existence of the Fold and therefore that his own transport has to be constantly operative and effective. Which makes him realize that there has to be a political interest in his smuggling business for it to be allowed to flourish and survive undisturbed, and that someone has to financially back him up and subsidize the mantainance of the train and the feasibility of the crossing.

Soon after the Crows discovered that Nina had been captured and could no longer guide them to the Little Palace, Arken tries to sabotage their mission by convincing them to abandon it. This is where Kaz understands that he is actively interested in their kidnapping of the Sun Summoner to not happen, and begins suspecting he might have a separate agenda.

He purposefully risks the whole mission on Jesper not gambling everything away while looking for alabaster coal by deciding to grab the goat by himself, which is a less time-consuming task. This grants him the opportunity to attend to a quick rally for West Ravka's independence led by General Zlatan, where he sees Arken retiring with him in a private tent. His suspects about Arken are validated, and he understands that Arken has been smuggling Grisha out of East Ravka to the West with the support of Zlatan, who is also making some kind of alliance with Fjerdians and keeping a blind-eye to druskelle hunting and capturing Grisha (as we find out later on).

While they are crossing the Fold, Kaz is visibly skeptical of Arken's story about the transport being conveniently effective because of his knowledge of engineering and physics, and a chunk of luck. Arken seems to know too well how to safely cross the Fold, and the trasport seems to have worked far too many times for it to be the product of the underground, illegal practice of just one man.

In East Ravka, Kaz comes up with the Royal Archive Heist with the hope of stealing the Little Palace blueprints from the Palace of Kribirsk. But there's a very short scene here, which apparently seems unimportant but is actually pivotal: Kaz gives Arken money to make friends with East Ravkans so as to grant them a safe passage to Os Alta. Keep in mind: at this point Kaz is sure that Arken has been given by Zlatan a personal agenda to carry out regarding the Sun Summoner (I genuinely believe he also grasps that the secret plan is to kill her, so as to prevent the Fold from being destroyed and their smuggling business from being no longer profitable), so he knows Arken has total interest in making sure that they actually have a ride to the Little Palace. Which means, by urging him to "make some friends", Kaz already knows Arken will come up with a plan to be able to arrive to Os Alta and carry out his own mission at any costs, if the blueprints of the Little Palace that they are planning to steal end up being useless. And not only that: he wants Arken to believe he is being one-step ahead of them by "saving their asses" with this back-up plan, so as to easily come to the conclusion that the Crows have no reason to distrust him (how could they, when he finds them a second way-in?) and completely disregard the idea that Kaz might stab him in the back before he does the same thing to them. This is some mastermind thinking and completely IC for Kaz, because all the inner workings of his schemes go completely unnoticed on the outside.

Now that Arken proudly looks like the one who managed to grant them passage to Os Alta, he has no reason to believe Kaz might have ulterior motives when he decides to be the one carrying out a preliminary exploration of the Little Palance's hallways, despite his wounded leg making it difficult for him. But here's when Kaz sees Marie and immediately understands that she's supposed to be a decoy for Alina. So he coldly plans the whole kidnapping operation so as to make sure Arken ends up trying to kill (or directly killing) Marie. Which is why he shows no surprise when Arken reveals he can actually open the Fabrikator-made door with a device he carries with himself (probably provided by Zlatan to be able to get access to Alina's private rooms, or maybe already in his possession from when he had smuggled other Grisha out previously), and shows no hesitation when saying outwardly to everyone that Arken will be the one actually carrying out the kindnapping just because "he knows his way around Grisha locks". I actually believe Inej senses that there's something going on that she doesn't fully know when Kaz so light-heartedly allows Arken to lay his hands on their 1 Mln Kruge prize, but her suspicions (likely born out because she knows Kaz too well) are quickly put to rest and given an explaination only after Arken effectively falls into his trap.

After Alina escapes from the Crows in the following episode, we are led to believe that Kaz abandons the idea of kidnapping her again because of Inej, and this turns out to be actually true (despite Inej herself being incredibly suspicious of this, because of how unseemly it would be). Inej also believes Kaz to be so calculating that she points out that he might have planned to let Alina go in the first place and to detonate Arken's transport so as to travel with the same sandskiff Alina is embarking on and kindap her there. Inej would not have such a suspicion if Kaz's reputation didn't live up to that modus operandi.

While we actually learn that Kaz was being genuine with Inej about having abandoned the idea of kidnapping Alina, we also quickly learn that Kaz has spent the last two episodes silently coming up with a whole new other plan to make sure they can go back to Ketterdam without being killed by Dreesen and Pekka Rollins.

Now, as you can see, this is actually a lot. And this whole progression of events is handled so smoothly by the writing that it's fully admirable only by rewatching the show and paying close attention to Kaz's actions, while also knowing how his mind works. All of this is internal workings, which is typical Kaz.

So, I was wrong. His modus operandi is very much present. It's just barely detectable, as it should be for it to be believable. I hope this might reassure some deluded fans who came out of their watching session feeling let down by Kaz not looking "smart enough". It's all there! And the fact that so many of us couldn't see it at first hand, if you think about it, is just further proof that Kaz's intelligence and ability to scheme were handled extremely well. They couldn't make his mental workings too obvious to the casual viewers, or the character would have lost what actually makes him brilliant, which is the ability to outsmart others without being detected, exposed or anticipated.

[burning-sol]

The Recurring...

Gillion realises that the Tiefling in his dreams is a look-alike. It gets more troubling from there. (3205 words)

A sequel to this.

.·:*¨༺ ──────────────────── ༻¨*:·.

“Gillion… Gillion? Gillion, can you hear me?”

Gillion’s eyes fluttered open, holding a hand in front of his face to shield it from the light. He squinted, a brilliant glare reflecting off of gold and silver adornments; and in any other situation it would have made for a marvellous display, but currently the languid fish thought it made decor seem obnoxious. Drowsiness clung to him and he couldn’t pay attention for long before a daydream started to lull him back to sleep. He’d managed to catch a few familiar shapes, deeming that all the investigation he needed to conduct before slumping in his chair. With a job well done he threw his arm over his face, nuzzling into the plush seat again. He would have happily nodded off right then and there if the chair wasn’t violently yanked forward, Gillion almost falling off as he righted himself. “HMM? YesSS. GiLLIOn Tidestridey of the Undersea water hero champion…..”

The Tiefling glowered, “I hadn’t realised that my office turned into a nursery…”

“..heroo of the AlBatross birddd…….” Gillion brushed the hair out of his face, yawning out, “..fluidd oF the ocEAn pLACeee………gillion….”

“Fluid of the ocean place…?” Gillion didn’t respond, his head inclining forward. Niklaus shifted the chair to disturb him, Gillion straightening up a second time. “Gillion, if you fall asleep again, I’m going to get upset. You don’t want to see me when I’m upset.”

“Mmmh… Is this really important though…?”

Niklaus was in a stupor, trying to process what the Triton had just said. “I… Yes. Yes, Gillion! Goddamn- YES, this is meant to be important! Freak out! Get angry! Ask me questions; do something!” 

Do something… There were many things Gillion could do and he decided the best course of action was to start talking. So he started talking about the first thing that came to mind, “I had a nice dream that I was with Edyn-“

 “Please stop.”

“-and Chip and Jay… And Earl-“

“I told you to stop.”

“-and we were killing some demons that’d gotten into the coconuts….”

Gillion got distracted trying to mime what a coconut looked like; Niklaus fighting his impending migraine. “Gillion, do you even know who I am?”

“. . . . . . . . . .” Gillion paused for a concerningly long time. “Santa….?”

Niklaus seethed, blowing his fuse, “Okay! That’s it, I’m done! I’m meant to sit here, be ominous, maybe make you self-conscious; but somehow you’ve messed this up for me, Gillion! You drooled all over my seat, forgot my name..! I don’t even think you’re listening to me right now! Give me your wrist already, I’m going to enjoy ending it this time-“

“Nononono, stop-“ Gillion shook his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I am wakey, what’s shakey?”

“Are you taking this seriously now?”

“Mm…. Go fish.” Gillion nodded, making real eye contact with Niklaus for the first time since he’d woken up. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yes, Gillion… It’s me.”

Gillion stared at him for a hot minute, Niklaus wondering what ever could be going on in that brain of his. Gillion leaned in, eyeing Niklaus closely. “…did you get a haircut?”

Anticipating a stupid question, Niklaus started to retort, “No, Gillion, I-” Niklaus trailed off. He pondered this observation. “I actually did… Thank you for noticing………Alright, alright, maybe I got too hasty with you. We don’t choose when this happens; I suppose I can’t blame you if you’re… Tired? (How does that work when we’re still in a dream..?) ..Was it a relaxing dream you were having?”

“The coconuts EXPLODED.. With the power of DESTINYY.”

“Destiny you say?”

 “YES. It’s like- It was awesome. You should have joined us, you would have loved it.”

“How much do you know about your destiny, Gillion?”

“My destiny? You mean the prophecy? I know it off by heart. A hero born of moonlight, storm and sea. They shall rise or fall to bring unity. They will be tested or bested by evil’s hand. By their choice one will remain: sea or land. I’m not sure if you knew this but I am the hero born of moonlight-“

“Supposedly.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing… Continue, please.”

“There isn’t much else to say… The Elders told me I was the Chosen One, they trained me to be the Chosen One, then I… Went out into the world to do Chosen One things…”

The omission stuck out like a sore thumb, but Niklaus didn’t press the issue.

“And that’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Nicolas, you fiend you- I know you’re a bit of a trickster - love the old trickeroo – but I know a trick question when I see one. You’re trying to get me to say no, but the answer is YES. That is just destiny babyyyy… Do you think they should have written that in the prophecy? To be cool, like ‘yeah that’s just destiny baby’ and also have a drawing of a crawfish on a surfboard? Because everyone loves crawfish on surfboards-”

“You know, when I say you’re stupid I’m usually just preying on your insecurities; but I think you may actually be stupid.”

“Yes, yes, I completely agree, Nicolas…”

“Do you know what I just said?”

“No.”

Niklaus questioned what made him believe that this Gillion was salvageable. He produced some wine and a glass from under the desk; pouring himself a drink as he reflected on his poor decision making. “Gillion, I’m going to drink some wine. Don’t talk until I’ve finished my glass, okay? If you do, I might actually just snap your neck.”

“…so you mean, starting from now or-?”

“Hush, darling; I just want to be able to think, alright?”

Gillion’s jaw audibly shut; his words snuffed out. The room was completely mute as Niklaus treated his headache with alcohol, Gillion kicking back and forth his legs to entertain himself. With nothing else distracting him, it didn’t take long for Gillion’s demeanour to change. His gaze was less foggy, his body less rigid; he scanned his surroundings with more care and diligence. The time stretched on for what could have been an eternity or just a couple of seconds (who could really say in a place like this), all the same Gillion eventually turning back to Niklaus. His eyes were intensely focused on Niklaus’ glass; there was undoubtedly a question on the tip of his tongue and he was waiting patiently to be called on. Niklaus pulled away the glass from his lips, examining the empty vessel before waving his hand, granting Gillion permission to speak.

“…Niklaus?”

“Yes, Gillion?”

“You’re not real, are you…”

Niklaus raised an eyebrow. “No. I’m not.”

“But you… You didn’t just come from my imagination… I mean partly but- You’re not entirely ME either…”

The Tiefling was awestruck, setting down his glass, “I’m not.”

“Then what ARE you?”

Niklaus gave him a smile (there was an uneasiness under the surface that he didn’t dare address). “To think you’d ever come this far… I guess progress can come at the most unexpected of times.”

“But… You said I wasn’t asking the right questions-“

“You are now.” Niklaus studied Gillion; watching him take in the information before another question came to visibly stir inside him. Niklaus prompted him, “What’s on your mind?”

“You said something… Something about the nature of dreams… I think you’ve said it a couple of times…”

“I’ve said many things about dreams, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Specific? I… I don’t know if I can be… You see, it’s more of a feeling-“

“A feeling? What are you feeling?”

Gillion hesitated, the air growing heavier, the anticipation palpable. “Well, it’s like… It’s like several things are happening at once…”

“Hm?”

“Okay, don’t judge me, Nicolas. I-I know this sounds weird because I’m sitting in front of you, but actually I am also over there.” Gillion pointed off to something behind Niklaus, Niklaus’ eyes following Gillion to the bookshelf and the vacant space in front of it. “And I don’t know what I’m reading, but I know that I am reading… But it doesn’t make sense because I’m talking to you. I’m there but I am… Here…? Does that make sense?”

“…well then.” Niklaus’ stole himself a moment to reflect on those words. He kicked his boots up onto the table, leaning back and serving himself another glass of wine. “You know, I was starting to think you Gillions weren’t capable of that sort of thing… Funny that.”

“What sort of thing?”

“You just explained it yourself. You can sense where the others are, what they’re doing… Granted, it took a while, not all of you are made equal I suppose... Must be nice for you to know you’re not alone though.”

“Wait, are you insinuating that…? Actually, I don’t get it; what are you telling me?” Gillion’s eyes lingered on the bookshelf, surveying himself with utmost curiosity.

“He’s real. You’re real. You’re both real.”

Gillion’s eyes widened, a switch flicking on in his head. “Oh.”

“Yes. A big, fat, capitalised Oh Gillion. These are the cards you’re being dealt here. This is the game.”

Gillion attempted to process this but this time the Triton couldn’t manage to pull himself together. He crumbled in his seat, looking away from the bookshelf before he got any more overwhelmed. “Niklaus… My head hurts.”

“I figured as much… This is a bit much for a single Gillion to handle.”

“Am I going to die?”

“Oh, so you care about dying now?” Niklaus only realised what he’d said after the fact, covering his mouth. “Sorry, force of habit. I’m a bit too used to insulting you.”

“It’s okay, I would insult me too…” Gillion sighed. “..crab.”

“I mean, technically you don’t really DIE because you’re all sort of experiencing this together- I don’t know if that helps actually…”

Gillion slowly blinked as something else clicked, steadily sitting up again. “What happens to you?”

“What happens to me? …Nothing really. …at least nothing you should be concerned about..…”

“Niklaus.”

“Yes, Gillion?”

“. . . . .”

Niklaus waited for Gillion to let up but he ended up being the one to cave first, becoming exasperated under Gillion’s scrutiny. He huffed, “Well? What do you expect me to say? I’m being dealt a different hand and that’s all I have to say on the matter.”

“Is there even a way to stop this??”

“Why make a game that can’t be won? Of course there’s a way to stop this. You’ll all figure it out eventually…”

“..but is there a way to win where you get what you want?”

“Oh no… I had an inkling this would happen... I teach you how to ask the right questions and suddenly you think you’re entitled to meddle in things you shouldn’t…”

Gillion’s expression changed, Niklaus becoming gloomier with the realisation of what he’d done. He tipped back his glass, waiting to reap what he’d sown.

“Nicolas, as you probably know I am the Chosen One, Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep, The One, Singer/Songwriter of Gillion and the Tidestriders' hit single ‘The Hole in Your Heart’, Warrior of Rock and Roll, Pigeon Lord, Moisture Master…”

Niklaus deadpanned, “Riveting.”

“…And it is my duty to aid all residents of not only the Undersea but of the Oversea too. And I guess the Dreamsea…? Right. The Undersea, the Oversea AND the Dreamsea.”

 “…that’s such a ridiculous name for it….”

“As far as I’m aware, you can think and speak and, even if you’re not the real Nicolas, that’s evidence enough to prove that you are indeed one of the residents I have the duty of protecting! So, Nicolas, I will do whatever it takes to make sure that you can have a fulfilling life like anyone else would! I will-!”

“That’s more than enough, Gillion. It doesn’t really matter to me, you know. Let’s talk about something else, you’re bringing down the mood…”

“This isn’t a joke, Niklaus. This isn’t the life you’re meant to live.”

“Hahah, oooh this is rich… How would you know, Gillion? I mean, are you really going to suggest I try to run away from this? Where would I run to? You haven’t even seen what it’s like outside this room…”

“Outside this room?”

Niklaus was surprised by his own slip up, “Whoops, I wasn’t meant to say that-“

Gillion bolted towards the door while Niklaus was distracted, swinging it open to reveal- “Niklaus- Niklaus, what iS THAT-“

“Oh no…” The door slammed shut in Gillion’s face.

“DID YOU SEE THAT!??”

“I did, I’ve seen it before actually-“

“WHY are you so calm???”

“I don’t know… It’s not like it’s going to harm us-“

“You don’t know that!! Quickly, I’ll go smite it and you can make it relive its worst traumas-!”  Niklaus used his magic to force Gillion back into his seat, Gillion’s sense of betrayal deafening him to any reason. “Let me GO Niklaus!”

“This is for your own good Gillion… You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Gillion’s glare was intense; he growled, “I’m trying to HELP you-“

“I’m trying to help YOU Gillion! For once! For once I’m trying to keep you safe, so please, SIT. DOWN.”

The outpour of emotion came as a shock to the both of them. They held their breath. Frozen.

“…how are you so okay with this?”

It almost looked like Niklaus wasn’t going to respond, but he managed to get his bearings. “I…I’ll be honest, I don’t know… I’ve thought about it and the only possibility that makes sense to me is that I was built to be okay with it... I’m not meant to care.”

“But you care about me.” No response. “You can’t tell me that what you just did was predetermined by whatever or whoever made you, you CARE about me-“

“You started to go off script, it’s not the same.”

“Is it?”

“Gillion, you don’t know a thing about anything…”

“Well, it’s starting to sound like you don’t know anything either; so I guess we’re even.”

“. . . . . .”

“You know I’m right.”

“Gillion, you are so idiotic I don’t even know how you remember to breathe...”

The distance they’d closed between them suddenly seemed to stretch a thousand miles wider. It was uncomfortable to be in each other’s presence but there was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, nowhere to hide from the other much less escape this nightmare. Gillion knew there was one bitter ending ahead of him and he didn’t have the heart to be optimistic. The loneliness inside him consumed him and his will wilted. Was this hell? Was he real? What was Niklaus? Was there any way to stop this? He was crushed under the weight of every bit of horrifying knowledge that’d been imparted on him, something that Niklaus recognised and deeply regretted. It was hard to miss, Gillion looked haunted and the truth was that he probably was haunted as well; he sat in a graveyard of his own bodies. Niklaus questioned his own part in this, whether this was morally neutral anymore.

It didn’t even sound like Gillion anymore. “Niklaus… Be honest with me… Can I do anything at all as I am?”

“No... I’m sorry, Gillion.”

A laugh, Gillion’s confession of his own fallibility. “Hah… No, it’s alright… I mean, it’s probably about time that this ended anyways… It’s… I was just hoping… You know…”

“It’s quite anticlimactic, isn’t it?”

Gillion mourned his own insignificant existence. “I think… I think I’m ready to go.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to, we can spare a few more minutes-”

Gillion was resolute, offering up his wrist. “No… No, I’m ready. If there’s nothing else to do then there’s no point in delaying it.”

Niklaus reluctantly took Gillion’s forearm. “I am warning you; this does hurt…”

An unpleasant tingle went down Gillion’s spine as he remembered, “I know, but I can take it.”

Niklaus let out a sigh, “Well… It was nice talking to you at least.”

“Niklaus, I’ll figure out a way to change this. I’ll figure out a way to save you. It’s my destiny to do so.”

“You wouldn’t be saving me from anything… But it’s a nice thought.”

With a nod of his head, Gillion signalled Niklaus to go ahead. He silently bid Niklaus goodbye. The Tiefling cringed, Gillion’s failure so bitter he couldn’t help but feel responsible. Oh god. What had he done? Why didn’t he stop this sooner? Was there an iteration that could possibly be worse than this? Maybe these Gillions really did die.

When the nail carved into Gillion’s skin it felt just as revolting as any other time. It HURT. It HURT so bad. It HURT but he was determined not to let it show, he didn’t want Niklaus to see that. He told himself, ‘it hurts less than my heart does’ even when his innards were impaled by spikes of hot pain. He tried to offering Niklaus a warm smile, as if Niklaus had been the one that needed comfort instead of him, as if Niklaus was even worthy of that kindness after the havoc he’d beget. And oh god. Oh god. This wasn’t a dream. He had blood on his hands. He’d really just-

The lights went out.

It was pitch black.

All Gillion could see was the crescent moon in the distance.

It was blinding.

.·:*¨༺ ──────────────────── ༻¨*:·.

Gillion woke up in the bathtub, leaning over the side of the tub with a heart so heavy it weighed him down. There was a chill writhing under his skin, so sure he’d dreamt of something utterly repulsive but what it was, was unclear to him. There was an absence, something missing, an underpinning distress that he couldn’t treat. He stared into nothing, only breaking his line of sight when he felt Pretzel nudging him. It eased him, pulling him back into the living plain. He picked her up and addressed her, “…Pretzel, I keep getting these weird dreams. I don’t know what it is, but I think it’s something important. I’m confused… Do you think there’s anyone that could help us?”

Pretzel didn’t know how to respond.

“…I guess we’ll have to do some investigating on our own.”

Gillion lurched out of the tub, catching the sight of himself in the mirror. It disquieted him. A thought passed in a millisecond that he couldn’t quite grasp, his concern showing on his face. It seemed he couldn’t even trust himself anymore, he’d somehow found a way to keep secrets away from his own prying eyes. He admitted that dealing with this alone was… It was wearing on him. But what could he tell Chip and Jay, that he was gradually slipping because he had some dreams he couldn’t remember?? Gillion tried not to tear up, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“I’m okay… I can do this… There’s nothing Gillion Tidestrider can’t do…right..? I-I’m the Chosen One…” He tried to affirm himself but he found his words just came out pathetically, pleading the universe for even an ounce of comfort.

Pretzel was worried. Gillion was worried too.

He pulled the plug from the bath, watching the water drain away, hoping this sinking feeling would go with it.

. . . .

. . .

. .

.

The passing thought.

Maybe we’ve died a hundred times over and we’re still worthless.