#but if there WAS a confrontation god that must have been UGLY

[revvethasmythh]

I legitimately wonder often about how, exactly, Liliana left Gelvaan. It's unspecified by Relvin, so I'm constantly thinking about which would have been worse: her leaving without a word, or an actual confrontation between the two of them

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

The Good Queen

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing(s): Viserys Targaryen x Fem!Reader, Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Harwin Strong x Alicent Hightower, Harwin Strong x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Alicent Hightower, Daemon Targaryen x Harwin Strong (I won’t apologize for everyone being gay for each other)

Tag: hotd the good queen

Warning: Fluff. Happy ending. No one dies (except Aemma, sorry love) and everyone lives. Age gaps. No feud. No greens or blacks. Slight gore.

Word Count: 3,901

Summary: The King must choose a new wife, and Alicent’s older sister, Y/n Hightower, is a suitable choice and a perfect match. For once, Viserys makes a decision that benefits everyone and upsets little few. The Seven Kingdoms are better for it.

Author’s Note: Not a request. Oddly enough, plenty request Otto imagines but never King Viserys. I thought I'd give it a try since I had an idea. But to be honest, Viserys x Reader are sort of background pairing/onlookers of this.

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

It was the most logical choice to pick the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower. It was also all part of Lady Y/n’s plan. After the death of her mother, she had become the guardian figure her younger sister, Alicent, truly needed in her time of grief and loneliness. Older and far more mature in beauty and wisdom, The Lady Y/n Hightower was determined to still give Alicent whatever was left of her childhood and did everything in her power to make her little sister feel loved and accepted. So if there were whispers regarding Alicent, Y/n likely knew about it. One night, her handmaid came into her room and warned her of whispers involving her little sister and the King. The maid spoke of Lord Otto placing Alicent where Viserys could see her after the death of the late Queen Aemma, and Y/n was beyond disgusted and furious.

However, instead of confronting her father, Y/n went behind his back and also placed herself where Viserys could see her. While she couldn’t stop Alicent from seeing the King at night without raising suspicion, she did, however, visited the King between meals and even ask Princess Rhaenyra if she could attend the Small Council meetings to act as another cupbearer. Rhaenyra, excited with the prospect of another woman being a part of the meetings, accepted the proposal. Y/n made sure to fill Viserys’ cup modestly and had even accompanied him in the royal gardens a time or two after that. It didn’t take much effort before he announced to his small council his engagement to her. Rhaenyra, sad but relieved her father found another wife, gladly welcomed Y/n into the family with open arms and was even more excited at the idea of Alicent being ever closer to being a part of her family.

The Hand of the King, however, was less than happy and voiced how displeased he was of her when finding time alone with his eldest daughter, “What have you done?”

“Done?” Y/n questioned from her vanity mirror, removing her earrings after a long day of the people of the court congratulating her.

“He was supposed to marry your sister.”

“Why would he want Alicent, Father?” Y/n tilted her head innocently at the reflection of Otto standing at a distance behind her, “She’s but a child.”

“In the gods' eyes, she is a woman grown.”

“So am I. I am the eldest, so why must she be married off first?”

“She’s the most comely lady in court.”

“If you think me ugly, Father,” she snarled, finally standing up and turning to face her father head-on, “Just say it and be done with it.”

“I had wished to marry you off to your cousin.”

“Ormund is Heir to Oldtown. Surely my uncle would want a better match for him to ally another large house to ours instead of within our own family. You’re a political man. Try to be smarter than the second son desperate for power.”

The insult strained their relationship if it hadn’t been strained already. Lord Otto barely spoke to his eldest daughter after that unless common courtesy compels him to do so, like complimenting her wedding dress before he gave her away to Viserys. Y/n may not have felt love when the King kissed her with the promise of affection and commitment, but she felt relief. Upon watching the way Alicent danced and laughed during the feast that night, entirely unaware and still innocent of childhood, Y/n knew she made the right decision.

It wasn’t long before Y/n was pregnant then the world as she knew it imploded with excitement. The maesters, after tending to all of the former Queen Aemma’s sickly pregnancies, were astonished to see Y/n flourish in quite the opposite direction. In a strange way, she was excited to be a mother, and practically raising Rhaenyra and Alicent helped with that dream.

At first hesitant, the princess grew to love Y/n as her stepmother, especially since the new Queen was her best friend’s sister. Even though Y/n was rumored to be carrying a son inside of her, Rhaenyra tried not to openly worry for her sake. She may be Viserys’ shiny new heir, but the idea of Queen Y/n having a son bothered Rhaenyra, even though Y/n tried easing her worries with the promise of always openly advocating for the princess’ right to the throne. This aggravated Lord Otto for obvious reasons. After Aegon was born, the Hand tried reaffirming his position over his daughter in order to persuade her into raising Aegon as the future king. In return, he got a stone wall, unmoveable even in the strongest of storms.

“You may be the Hand of the King,” Y/n had sneered at her father one night in the safety of her chambers, “But I am the wife to the King. I am the Queen.”

And with his daughter as Queen, Lord Otto found himself in lesser power than when she was just a lady of the court. With her baby boy on her hip, Queen Y/n attended many Small Council meetings, shameless at the stares of men around her when she took her seat next to Viserys, stealing the spot away from his Hand. Over some time, Y/n became to lean towards Rhaenyra when the princess poured her wine and offered small treats to her little half-brother. With the proper influence, Y/n had also convinced Viserys to grant his daughter a seat at the table, no longer a cupbearer. Y/n then happily stepped aside and let Rhaenyra sit next to her father while the Queen sat next to her own. By then, Lord Otto never felt further away from the King, physically and cognitively.

Even less so when his younger daughter was married off under his own nose. Like a carpet pulled underneath him, Lord Otto was forced to walk Alicent down the aisle and be handed off to her new husband, Harwin “Breakbones” Strong. Some wonder who could have ever picked out such a perfect match, while others looked no further than the Queen herself. With her father’s pawns now swiftly taken from him, Lord Otto begrudgingly asked King Viserys for his blessing to resign. Although shocked, Viserys only had to look to his wife before granting his Hand a dismissal.

Tail between his legs, Otto Hightower left for Oldtown, never to return to King’s Landing, even when his daughters produced him grandchildren. In his place, Lord Lyonel Strong was named Hand of the King and he was a better-suited friend to the throne, and most importantly, an ally to his Queen.

Queen Y/n was a busy woman, even while pregnant. Especially while pregnant. She couldn’t afford anyone trying to take away her power and influence when she was knocked down and so she was constantly on the move, no matter how round she got. Her daughter, Helaena, came quicker than Aegon, and so the Red Keep was filled with delight at the announcement of a new princess soon to roam the halls. Rhaenyra was delighted. She was spotted trying to teach the baby girl how to walk, letting her little sister hang onto her hands and trot over her own feet. Alicent was already a proud aunt, but she doted on Helaena much like Y/n used to dote on her own younger sister. It seems as though the Queen had been quite the influence between Rhaenyra and Alicent, both now fully grown, beautiful and proud.

If Alicent was missing her father, she never showed it. Instead, she spent her time excited when she learned she would soon be a mother herself. Watching Y/n raise her children, Alicent had grown to wish to be just like her sister one day. Harwin was kind to his young wife and understood his place in her heart must be shared with the people around her. He knew Alicent loved her sister, the Queen. He knew she loved her niece, Helaena, and nephew, Aegon, and above all, he knew she loved the Princess Rhaenyra. Harwin couldn’t blame Alicent. Harwin had grown to love her, too.

Y/n and Alicent were soon pregnant together, and it felt as though the Seven Kingdoms could not have had a more beautiful, plentiful summer that year. Everyone was happy, whether of the royal family growing or from the prospect of the harvest. Most of King’s Landing was always celebrating and most stomachs were full and warm. With the Queen and her sister expecting, the castle was alive with happiness and love.

However, Y/n knew there was one individual who was internally unhappy. She was no fool. The Queen saw the way Rhaenyra looked at Alicent and the way Alicent looked at Rhaenyra. Surely, Alicent’s unborn child sparked a deep-dwelling of sadness within Rhaenyra, longing still evident in her eyes. Eventually, Y/n saw the way Ser Harwin stared after the princess as well and knew that something had to be done. She wouldn’t dare dream of separating the three, but she knew that Rhaenyra had to marry soon or who knows what sort of rumors might blossom should someone else notice the tension between the princess, Alicent, and Harwin. Rhaenyra needed a husband, despite the princess making it difficult to find a suitor. Y/n knew where to look, but unlike the other times, it would take a lot more effort to convince the King of this match.

“No,” Viserys smiled, despite the clouds looming overhead, “Absolutely not. Daemon is not worthy of my daughter.”

“If you could have your way, no one would be worthy of her,” Y/n sighed, briefly smiling at her husband while rounding the Small Council’s table towards him, her hand brushing over the surface. They were alone at the moment, waiting for the other members to join them, “But she is your heir, and she’s no longer a child. She is unwed, and last I heard, Daemon had recently lost his wife, Lady Royce. As I understand it, their marriage was left unconsummated.”

“Others will look to him to be King, instead of Rhaenyra their Queen,” Viserys retorted.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Not everyone will be happy, no matter what decision you make, Your Grace.”

She reaches the King, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders as she crossed to stand behind him, rubbing his aging shoulders and physically feeling his body slowly uncoil and relax. Viserys sighs, long and exhausted, his fingers rising to rub his eyes, but instead reach further back and clasp Y/n’s hand instead. She squeezes his hand encouragingly, while Viserys still looked hesitant and forlorn, “He’s not worthy of her...”

“No,” Y/n leans down and kissed the top of his head, “But he does love her. And I think she loves him, too. They are dragons, Viserys, and your kin. Your house sigil requires three dragon heads. If Rhaenyra is to be Queen someday, then she will need heirs of her own. She’ll need dragons. This marriage proposal is not an unheard-of custom, especially for a Targaryen. This alliance will keep your legacy strong long after you and I are gone, and your reign over Westeros will remain peaceful long after Rhaenyra has passed on.”

The Small Council meets that evening, and Viserys announces Daemon and Rhaenyra’s engagement. For supper, that night, King Viserys and Queen Y/n sit beside Rhaenyra and invite the children and Harwin and Alicent along for the celebration as well. Rhaenyra’s eyes sparkled again for the first time in a while, and if Y/n noticed the tight grip her stepdaughter had on her hand, she didn’t comment.

Thankfully, Daemon was on board with this proposal and made no fuss when he was summoned to King’s Landing. Both he and Rhaenyra were married by the end of seven, long days of festivities. The newlyweds decided to temporarily part for Dragonstone, but both rushed back on their dragons when they received word of Queen Y/n and Lady Alicent both going into labor.

Aemond was a difficult delivery, but Y/n was, as always, overjoyed to have the infant brought into her arms. Down the hall, not long after Aemond was born, the Queen could hear a different cry coming out of her sister’s room.

Alicent birthed a son, Jacerys Strong. The whole kingdom rejoiced over their new prince and little lord. Many spoke about the bond the two would share growing up and strengthening the alliance between House Targaryen and House Strong. Lifelong friends were born that day, and Y/n could not wait to raise her children alongside her sisters'.

Rhaenyra quickly became pregnant as well, and by this time, Y/n had noticed the way Rhaenyra and Alicent hold onto each other as they roam the gardens, both of their husbands following them in tow. The Queen doesn’t miss the way the four often spend most of their time together, day and night. Sometimes, Y/n feels as though she’s intruding when watching them all interact. Rhaenyra and Alicent are usually glued to each other’s side, but if not, sometimes Y/n noticed Daemon accompanying Alicent and Harwin attending to Rhaenyra. There are times when even all three are attending to the princess as her stomach slowly grows. Now that she noticed this, Queen Y/n noticed other things as well, like how intense those training sessions between Daemon and Harwin can be.

For the most part, Y/n turns a blind eye and makes no complaint. She doesn’t say a word to Viserys, but she’s seen the way the King watches his daughter with her... group of confidants, and part of Y/n wonders if her husband sees it, too. Perhaps she is not the only one turning a blind eye in order to see Rhaenyra happy with the family her father always wanted her contented with.

Daemon and Rhaenyra’s firstborn is also named Aegon, nicknamed the Younger. Aegon the Elder was delighted when Rhaenyra confessed she named her child after her brother more so than the Conqueror. Viserys was a proud grandfather/uncle, holding the babe in his arms as he sat upon the Iron Throne to announce Aegon’s birth to the court. During the festivities, Viserys even made a lighthearted joke about how his darling wife was so young and it was nearly impossible to believe that she was now a grandmother.

More children came after that, though Daeron would be Y/n’s last after she broke out in fevers once she birthed him. She survived, but after that, both she and Viserys agreed that Daeron would be their last one. Alicent and Harwin bore two more sons, Lucerys and Joffrey, while Daemon and Rhaenyra had another son and a daughter, Viserys II, and Visenya. Despite a few age differences in between, all the children were raised together within the Red Keep and grew up nearly forgetting that they were, in fact, not all direct siblings. They were taught together. They trained together, sewed together, and fought together.

Ten years passed and they were the best years of King Viserys’ life, or so people claim. Even as his health declined, he made no room for sorrow, only joy when his children and grandchildren were involved. One of his favorite pastimes was overlooking the courtyard and watching as his children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews all played together. All of the Targaryen children’s dragons, still small with age, curiously watched them play as well, acting more like large dogs than fiery beasts.

As they got older, some of the boys got rougher. As siblings-who-are-not-really-siblings do, they all occasionally fight or they take their anger out in training. One unfortunate incident was between Aemond and Lucerys. Whilst training, it was clear that the cousins were angry at each other over something minuscule and so they tried to vent using the swing of their swords. Unfortunately, Luke swung hard and Aemond didn’t sidestep in time to avoid it. The very tip of the Strong boy’s sword slashed across Aemond’s eye, leaving behind an unspeakable scene full of blood and screams.

The Queen was summoned right away, directed to Aemond’s chambers where her son was already abed with the Grand Maester tending to him. It was a gruesome scene, even with the wound already cleaned. Aemond’s eye was swollen and angry, a long, ugly cut running through it, trailing down his cheek and over his eyebrow.

The maester moves away from the bed and allows the Queen to take his place by her son’s side as he explained, “I have given as much Milk of the Poppy as I could, Your Grace, but for a child of his size, it would be too dangerous to give him the proper doses he would normally need to relax. The pain has dulled, but it will linger.”

The Queen sits on the edge of Aemond’s bed, “It will heal, will it not?”

“The flesh will heal into a scar... but the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

Y/n’s face crumbles in distress, taking Aemond’s hand in hers while brushing some of his silver hair from his young face, “What happened?”

“An accident in the training yard, Your Grace, as I understand it.”

“Luke cut me!” Aemond cried in anger, “He cut me and I should have left my mark in return! I had my chance and I couldn’t take it! I wish I had!”

"Aemond," his mother warns, eyeing him with a look that only a mother could threaten with her child, “You don’t mean that. I understand your anger and your grief, but at the end of the day, what happened was an accident. Tragic, yes, but an accident. Luke is your cousin. He is a part of your family and he loves you. He would have never intentionally harmed you and you know it.”

She leans forward then and kisses his forehead, just above the top of the cut, "We can get you something to cover it up. Or, once it fully heals, we can replace it with a false eye. A diamond, perhaps? Ruby?"

Her lightheartedness softens Aemond’s anger, slightly, as he relents to his mother’s touch, leaning into her embrace as he entertains her idea, "Sapphire."

She leans back so he could see her smile of approval, "A fine choice, my love.”

The Queen stands up, taking her time to help Aemond lie down and get properly tucked into his covers. She lovingly pets his hair down as she turns to the maester beside her, “Grand Maester. Have some essence of Nightshade brought up to my son’s chambers. He needs time to rest and heal.”

“At once, Your Grace,” the maester bows then exits the room.

Y/n leans back down to her son one last time, bringing his hand up to her face to kiss his fingers, “Be hopeful, son. Women like men with scars."

She leaves the room and makes her long trek to the kitchens. Rounding a corner, she comes across her sister. Alicent was distraught and full of guilt, grasping the Queen's hands in hers as she cries, "I'm so sorry... Harwin and I will punish Luke accordingly."

"There's no need," Y/n is quick to reassure Alicent, her sisterly instincts kicking back in. The instinct never truly went away. It was dormant, but Y/n will always protect her sister, no matter how old she gets, "It was an accident, Ali. Aemond will not resent your son for it. I can imagine Luke is very distraught about what happened. You must attend to him. Reassure him that he was not at fault and I would never hold this over my nephew."

After she sent Alicent back to her family, Y/n returns to her original task and heads to the kitchens. She returns to Aemond's chambers a little while later, carrying a tray of food and drink for her son, ignoring the servants when they offered to carry it for her. Behind her, Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron are hovering in the doorway, poking their heads into the room and trying to get a good look at their brother abed. The Queen sets the tray down and turns back to the doorway with a knowing glance, “Come along. Dine with your brother but then leave him to rest.”

A picnic was made in Aemond’s bed, his mother and siblings surrounding him as they nibbled on bread and cheese. They talked about other things to distract the injured prince, telling stories about their day or laughing at a joke Aegon said. Viserys, in search of his family, limped into the room with his cane not long after, smiling softly at the scene before him.

After sending her other children away to let Aemond sleep, Y/n takes her husband's arm and carefully walks with him to her own chambers. His hair had begun to thin out and a hunch in his back drove him to lean forward or off to the side as he walked crookedly. He was no longer the peaceful, handsome king Y/n had married, and a small ache in her heart hammered every time she looked into his eyes, age spots and wrinkles beginning to form on his pale skin. Despite his troubles with his health, he still never looked happier.

"You are a wonderful woman, Y/n," Viserys held her arm in a firm grip, his kind smile pulling those wrinkles further up his face. His eyes dazzled warmly, happily, without a sign of a lie, "You're a good mother, a good queen, but most importantly you're a good wife. Had I not married you... I am not sure I would be surrounded by the most loving family and ruling such a prosperous kingdom. What would I do without you?"

Y/n smiled back, patting his arm affectionately as they make it down the long hallway of their home, "Best not to dwell on such a question, my love. The Seven Kingdoms are better off without knowing."

~~~

Viserys dies in his sleep a few years later. His health had gotten worse and the only thing he allowed the maester to administrate was the Milk of the Poppy to dull the pain. Otherwise, he didn't ask for a cure, nor did he try to even fight his illness. Many often wondered if, in the end, he was waiting to die. Others thought that guilt was a deadly illness and whatever secret the King had, died with him. After being given a window to mourn, the now Queen Regent, Y/n Hightower, crowned Viserys' rightful heir herself.

Queen Rhaenyra's coronation was grand, as what Viserys would've wanted for his beloved daughter. Daemon, his brother, proudly took the name, King Consort, while Rhaenyra named her firstborn son, Prince Aegon the Younger, her rightful heir. Lyonel Strong remained the Hand of the Queen, but his son, Harwin, was named Commander of the City Watch and was given a place at the Small Council's table. His children with Alicent were given titles to many lands, their oldest son heir to Harrenhal. Aegon the Elder was permitted the claim to Dragonstone, while Rhaenyra's other half-siblings were appointed as squires and cupbearers to her court, some were even betrothed to the Strong children.

Y/n, however, remained in King's Landing, despite being granted permission to go back to her family's home, Oldtown. With Rhaenyra's permission, she remained in the Red Keep where she had made a home among her children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews. Y/n Hightower -once called the Good Queen- died in her bed many years later, after briefly meeting her first great-grandchild to her son, Aegon, and his wife and niece, Visenya.

There were no Blacks. There were no Greens. A hundred years will pass and everyone will know the story of how one woman stopped the Dance of Dragons from ever happening. Or better yet, no one will have ever even heard of it.

~~~

A/N: I know, I switched everything up and made everyone confused. This was a form of therapy for me after I wished that everyone in the show would just get along.

Part Two

[thirstydemisexual]

May I have something with Buggy being hopelessly in love with someone that both Crocodile and Mihawk are casually trying to pursue as well? I would love a typical “Two people betting with each other who can seduce someone faster, being so sure that they will sweep them off their feet- “Oh I am really flattered, but actually I’m interested in Buggy” scenario here.

Would love to see Buggy happy-ugly-crying (even uglier than usual) when he finds out because???? He WON!??? AGAINST SIR CROCODILE AND MIHAWK??? While said men are witnessing this weird spectacle from afar, for the most part being good natured about it and not holding a grudge, but also being highly confused because… Buggy? Neither of them even considered Buggy a plausible option for reader insert. Neither of them would have ever looked at each other and even speculated that their rival in this wooing contest might be the damn clown. Eh, can’t win them all. (And maybe they dodged a bullet here because if they choose the clown they must be completly out of their mind)

AHHHHH it's so giving The Grinch x Martha may and I LOVE IT! THAT DYNAMIC IS GOLD, hope you like this, I know it's not really my best work :/ been recovering from a bad fall. But I had fun writing this 🫶

HOPELESS🔪🤡|| Buggy x gn!reader

✦being in the cross guild was the most bizarre thing that happened in your life, sure living in a world where people ate devil’s fruit and gained power was bizarre enough… but working in group with Crocodile, Mihawk and Buggy of all people was so much out of your comfort zone that even the marines were surprised you were involved in the guilt. You were known to be a lone wolf like Mihawk, with no crew and no known attachment to other people, so you grouping up with somebody was a first.

✦in truth it wasn't really that you didn't like working with people, it was more tho that you had troubling understanding people intentions, you were stabbed in the back way too often for you to willingly put yourself in that position

BUT

✦ You really liked Buggy, having had a crush on him for years and you were dead set on pursuing him, what better way to spend time with him than working with him and gaining power and notoriety as well? And Mihawk and Crocodile, were not really your favorite people but you were willing to put up with them, but they were very much pushing the line with how much they abused the poor clown

✦You are considered as one of the most powerful and beautiful people of the seven seas, you were strong and reliable and very loyal it was no wonder to Buggy that Mihawk and Crocodile were dead set on pursuing you. They had been competing with each other for your attention since you all grouped up, and he couldn’t blame them. You are wonderful, and so full of charm, he fell for you long ago but his insecurities got in the way. NO ABSOLUTE WAY A GOD/GODDESS LIKE THEM LIKES SOMEONE LIKE HIM. Especially over THE Mihawk and THE Sir Crocodile. 

✦He felt like he had absolutely no chances

✦ Somehow you were clueless, both to his interest and to the advances of the other two. Which was surprising with how much they were flaunting themselves over you.

✦ It was Valentine's day and Crocodile and Mihawk had had a staring contest all day while showering you with gifts. You had thought they were doing it only in a friendly way, and gladly accepted the lavish gift they proposed you but to them it seemed you reciprocated both of them which didn’t sit right them

✦ Buggy spent all day looking longingly at you, the chocolates he clumsy made for you in an attempt to finally ask you out sitting in his back pocket. He was sure you were going to pick one of the others instead of him.

✦ at the end of the work day Mihawk and Crocodile confront you, Buggy sitting on thebopposite corner of the room with a glass of rum clutched in his hands.

"Will you share a wine bottle with me tonight?" Asks Mihawk

"No, they won't. I arranged for us for the finest restaurant in town" interjects Sir Crocodile

✦ that's when you realize their affection is not really platonic

"Ehm, actually I was thinking of asking Buggy" you reply blushing hard

Buggy chokes on his drink, face turning as red as his nose under the face paint.

You rush to him to pat on his back trying to help him stop the fit of cough that the chocking caused

"Asking me what?" He's very confused because you can't POSSIBLY be meaning what he hopes.

That's when you shyly offer him a paper bag he hadn't noticed you having before.

"Come on, open it"

✦ Under the bright red tissue paper he finds a chocolate box and a beautiful ornate dagger, with blue and red gems embezzled in it

"The gems reminded me of you" you told, a bit unsure. His face had pure shock and rended him in silence, you didn't know if it was a good sign.

✦ after a second his eyes glass over and he asks in an almost whiny tone

"You were thinking of me?" at that you giggle

"Of course silly! Will you be my Valentine?"

At this point Crocodile and Mihawk are just awkwardly standing there 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️... like were they blind? of course those two idiots loved each other

✦ "FUCK YESS!" Buggy basically trows yourself at you and brings you into a soaring kiss. His ego boosting. He envelops you with an arm while he detaches the other end to go to the two standing there while pointing the middle finger

✦ and you can't do anything other than blush and giggle into the kiss because gods he's an idiot, but you love him for it

#NO BETA WE DIE LIKE ACE

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Prayer Factory

Gale x F! Tav (named)

18+ religous trauma, confrontation, disassociation, implied violation, trauma responses, panic, dry heaving, roughness, dom/sub, total control, light humiliation, semi public sex, choking, handjob, face sitting, oral (f!), masturbation (m!)

Aurum steels herself to face her old demons at the temple, with her love at her side. But the adrenaline of confrontation leaves her coiled, and a wizard very eager to take her wrath...

Masterlist

-

"You can do this."

Aurum stared up at the temple, its faceted golden light cascading her in angelic reprieve.

"You know, I wish it was ugly." She squeezed his fingers tightly. "Bloody and decrepit. Somewhere this painful shouldn't look like this."

He agreed, of all of their confronting of demons, this was far too beautiful. Somehow, more sinister in its resplendence.

"I'm right here with you, and I will burn this place down at your command. They've rebuilt once before, they can do it again."

She smiled at him, pulling his nape to bring him into a dizzying kiss. The soft sounds of happy parishioners and the hush of swaying flowers an idyllic backdrop.

Her voice started to slide together. It was always melodic, but now folded into a half song.

"When we get inside..." She hushed against his lips. "Don't leave my side."

"Of course, I'm wi-"

"Gale." Her tone pausing him. "Listen to me. Stay with me."

"I won't leave you." He promised, already tightening his body for a fight.

Aurum took one deep inhale, then, before she could release it, pulled them inside. Spires of the Morning swallowing them entirely.

He thought she would pull up her hood and conceal herself in her instinctual protection. But she threw her cloak down, striding up to the altar in her flowing robe. Baring herself.

The clergy turned and ran to her in shock. Voices raised in alarm, calling for regalia and covers and holy items. Descending on her as devout wolves.

Aurum stood stock still, simultaneously tight and limp to their pulling. Face composed in grace, but eyes glazed over. No longer in her body.

Watching them touch her made his stomach turn. Each piece of regalia they so lovingly slipped onto her felt like they were stripping her naked in front of him. Ripping away pieces of her autonomy one garment at a time.

He wanted to make them stop, but there were too many to pull off of her. Fingers already entangled into her hair, pulling it out of its clip to braid down her back. Bands of fabric tied around her shoulders and across her waist. Headdress affixed to her brow, a molded blindfold taking her eyes away. Every piece tailored to fit her body. To bind her to them.

He felt waves of nausea as she disappeared from him in real time. A priest tried to shoo him away, so blinded by fervor that he couldn't even recognize that they came in together. Or maybe it didn't matter. She was their holy idol, finally returned. Her outside ties were irrelevant.

"I'm her entrusted, her priest. I must stay with her." He urged.

"Oh! Thank you for returning her to us, brother."

"We cannot stay. Her light is drawn elsewhere."

The priest peered at him, confused. A small clench in his jaw.

"But she must stay. You understand, we have been without her guidance for too long. She is a direct conduit."

He truly felt like he was going to harm this man, a rage that rose like a fever up his spine. Speaking through slow and even breaths.

"It is not in our dieties nature to keep light contained. Come now, she has graced your temple again, rejoice in that. Her light must be spread beyond these walls."

The man seemed uncertain, about to retort, when Gale drew forward. Disregarding him to take her hands.

"Such resplendent light must be shone."

Many of the clergy nodded, faces slack in their blind devotion. The priest fell away, his protest lost.

It made him recoil to see their faces. He had never been on the other side. To see the way they looked at her... is this how he looked at his god? At her, on that beach so long ago?

He understood now why she had kept him at a distance for so long.

He twisted his fingers into hers.

I'm sorry.

Her fingers trembled but did not respond. Their shake the only tell in her mask of grace. The slightest flinch as one of the devout pulled away her chest binding. Her light spilling out.

They all gathered around, chattering prayers and joyful exclamation. Pushing their palms onto her chest, clammy and grotesque in their excitement.

He realized what she meant now, when she had urged him at the door.

"Don't leave my side. Stay with me."

Don't let them take me.

He stepped between the hands, presenting his body as a shield. His chest pressed to hers. Feeling the heat of her sunlight. Her eyes blinded to him, but feeling her gaze regardless.

"What is the meaning of this gathering?"

A tall man stepped down from a staircase above them. Staring down with clear authority.

"High Mornmaster! She's returned!" A priest called out. Presenting her as one does a prized relic.

"And you thought it best to adorn her out here in the open?"

"Oh! I..."

"She was bare when she arrived! We had to dress her!"

"Silence, brother."

The priests hung their heads obediently.

"Are you her charge, stranger?" He turned to Gale, eyeing him down his nose.

"I am. She is in my care, body and soul."

"A most holy duty. I commend thee."

It made bile rise to his throat to realize how they spoke around her.

"She has done well to stay her silence. We shall speak at a more private altar. Come."

Gale pantomimed leading her, but it was her step that drew them forward. How long had she spent blinded to know this place in the dark?

He spoke low in her ear as they walked, following the shadow of the high priest.

"You're doing so well. I love you, I'm right here with you. We're going to go home soon, okay?"

She nodded, taking a shuddering breath. The grip on his fingers loosened slightly. Taking up his own squeeze.

It frightened him that she hadn't spoken, but he knew how confronting places like this could unravel. All of the progress you've made pulled out of you in wrenching handfuls. A cruel magic trick.

But he would not allow them the chance to take advantage of her temporarily shattered sense of self. She was not alone. And they would die by his hand before they could take her.

"What fortuitous luck we have been graced with. Our divine light returned to us." The High Morninglord swept behind his desk, sitting back to level his gaze appreciatively at her.

"Though, I have heard whispers of a girl with a holy light in her chest, running the Cliff's Run, of all things." He laughed as if this was the most absurd notion. "The thought, our Resplendent running naked in the streets."

Gale's stomach clenched in disgust. Recognizing the tactics. Setting up a shameful question to put your obstinate charge on the back foot. To make them trip over themselves to prove you wrong.

But she didn't take the bait. Sitting straight, her hands folded gently in her lap. Her face impassive under the half mask.

"It has been far too long since your voice has hallowed these halls. Shall we have your confession, Risen Sun."

It wasn't a question.

A low laugh slipped her at his audacity. Calling her by her true title.

"Confession..." Aurum let out a slow breath, though she made no move to bend her head in prayer. "Maybe it will help."

"Yes, confession is a balm on the soul."

"Should I address Lathander or our Father?"

He paused, clearly taken aback by her brevity. Addressing the cult outright. Gathering his nerve again.

"Whoever speaks to you."

She smiled with a sharp edge.

"Then I'll speak to you."

"I remember what faith felt like. Filling a hollow in me. Ecstatic. Bright. Lifting me above my body. Gods, it makes me shiver to even think of it now."

Her voice was a soft coo of a dove. All the fullness, the lived in, pulled away. Reminding him of how she spoke so long ago. How one speaks to a lamb led to the knife.

"It fulfilled me, and why wouldn't it? It was my purpose. My whole existence had been planned with the sole purpose of channeling the divine. Or, at least, that's what I was told. 'You've been touched by the Gods.' My father would whisper. Leading me in my first steps to the altar. It was all deliberate, my breeding, my upbringing. My young mother dying during childbirth a blip on my history. An obituary not even written. Just a name and a date."

"But I think my genuine channeling was a convenience for my father, at least at first. It's easier to convince the blind masses when your child truly did speak through your god. But there lies the problem."

She leaned forward, boring her concealed gaze into him. Her voice carried on in its haunting song.

"His god spoke to me. Through me. He had thought he had channeled Him, but seeing how He flowed from me like water. I was His true voice. That filled his belly with rot. Envy. And a madman with a pit of rot in his belly... well. You surely remember what happened next?"

The priest's breath held, fear darting his eyes from her.

"Oh, come now. You weren't scared when you held me down. Don't lose your nerve now."

"No, you remember quite well. A little girl named Rosa'sune, with soft adolescent love for another girl and blind faith in her heart, was destroyed on that slab that night. And no amount of her screaming loosened your grip. It was a call from your god, and you sang to it joyously."

"That wasn't what broke my faith. Not the pain, not the shard of sun, not the carving of the tattoo across my face. I had endured wrath before. No, it was that you did it to her too."

"See, I could have believed it was a show of my worth, to be Chosen. Of course, a blessing this great must take a great deal to endure. But Amaris was not part of our sect. She didn't even worship the same god. Yet you carved her, just the same as me. You marked her identical. Now, why would that be?"

"I can hear from the shake of your breath that you have enough sense to be afraid of me. Good. You should be. My father was too, but not until it was far too late. He filled me with such terrible power. And, like all unfit parents, had never fathomed that I could defy him. That I was more than an extension of his will. In forcing that light in me had made his most fatal mistake."

She rose to lean on the desk, palms flat against the wood. Still speaking a soft lullaby.

"He had made me a weapon. His daughter, singing hymns and touching bowed heads with eyes blinded, was now a scythe shaped like a girl. In his hubris, he had made me far more powerful than him, and it was too late to turn back. So he made a failsafe. If I refused him or his god, I would burn."

"Aurum... I had no-"

"Silence. I am not here to soothe your bleating."

She reached forward and tenderly cupped his face.

"Do you remember? How our clergy sung my new holiness? Oh, how beautiful, how lucky, to be Chosen. How wonderful to have a true conduit. Without a single thought of the weight of a sun in her chest. No thought to how strange that her voice was returned to her, yet her breath came so shallow."

She reached up and pulled the blindfold away. Staring deep in his eyes.

"It was my father's will, but your faithful did this to me. I could not hide from His light, and you do not get to hide from what you've done."

Fear shaken tears edged out of his eyes, staring up at her. Mouth fallen open in silent pleading.

She brushed a tear away with her thumb, then reached inside her mouth. Wetting her opposite thumb, she circled a sun into the crest of his forehead. The trail lighting. Holy water.

"I shall let all who dwell in dark feel your holy dawn."

The priest responded almost involuntarily.

"Morninglord, hear my prayer."

She smiled a sad, knowing smile, then pulled away.

"Let's go. We're done here."

Gale rose and took her hand, though she needed no guidance. Leading him out.

As they walked, her pace picked up. Grace falling away as distance covered. Breaking into a frantic stride. Pulling away the regalia that weighed down her body.

They burst out of a hidden side door, a small alley tucked away by the sea. Aurum leaned against the brick, dry heaving.

Gale rushed forward, about to cradle her. But she shoved him away. Surprise taking up both of their faces.

He staggered back, but didn't retreat. Seeing something in her eyes.

She rose up to her full height and shoved him again. His back pushed into brick.

His breath left in a huff, a new kind of lust risen in his belly. Seeing it mirrored in her eyes. She always had a dominant streak, but this felt different. Less teasing, no toying or riling in her stare.

Her hand came to his throat, pressing her body into his. Staring deep in his eyes. Her fingers tightened. Studying him like a tiger hidden in thicket.

The thought of being her prey made his cock throb, breathing hard through her fingers.

She reached inside his robe and cupped him. Eliciting a gasp. Holding him by the throat and by the cock. His life and his manhood in the palm of her hands. Already leaking precum over her fingers. His body begging.

She gathered the slick and tightened her grip, wrenching pleasure from him in tight strokes.

He arched into the wall, eyes rising into lids. Hand gripping her forearm.

She knocked his hand back. Exhaling a fast breath, nearly a growl. Caging him back.

He braced his hands against the wall, the cool brick flat against his palms. His hips fucking up into her. The hand on his throat flexing.

This was a tucked away alley, but they were still in the city. Anyone could wander down the street and see them. See him. The thought that she might not stop in that situation made his belly tighten dangerously. Orgasm threatening shockingly soon.

She felt the throb, his cock hard as stone. Only smiling, her mouth hovering just far enough away to deny him of her. Playing with her food, watching him squirm with a tilt of her head.

That she wasn't speaking made it feel so much more salacious. Breathing hard into the space between them. Eyes wide blown with lust. The lewd sound of her hand and heavy breathing the only sounds exchanged.

The end was soon, he was past the point of no return. Hips fucking into her outside of his control. Biting into his lip, whimpers lost under her grip on his throat. Her total control over him making his pleasure feel primal. Shameful out in the open. About to cum, whether he liked it or not.

She turned his head with her thumb, seeing the tells of his body. Pushing a moan of breath against his ear. Licking a flat line up the curve.

He came in shuddering waves, hands digging into the sharp brick. Hips stuttering as the pleasure coiled in his belly struck him over and over. Out on display for the world to see. Splattering the ground.

She pushed him down by the throat. Forcing him to a sitting kneel, staring up at her. She pulled her robe aside and straddled over his upturned face. Long legs caging him. Taking the crown of his hair into her fist. Grinding her cunt into his mouth.

He gripped both hands into her ass and pulled her into him. Slurping her hard clit into his cupped tongue.

She shuddered above him, fully straddling over his face. Bracing her forearm against the brick wall. Hips pulsing into his fervent licking. Sloppy in his enthusiasm, staring up at her through lidded eyes. Fucked out, moaning into her cunt.

Her using him like this hardened his cock again, reaching between his legs to stroke himself in time to the grind of her hips.

"Good boy." She sighed when he sucked her clit into his mouth. Sending his eyes up into his head. About to cum again.

He released his cock to pull her hard into him, burying his face fully between her legs. Digging his fingertips into the fat of her ass. Slurping and sucking with animal fervor.

She buckled above him, curling her head forward. Shuddering out choked cries. Her hips tremoring from deep in her pelvis.

He slapped her ass, bending her hips to fully latch on to her clit. Wrenching his head from side to side, pulling popping sucks with the hollow of his tongue.

She bit into her forearm above him, her eyes squeezing shut tight. Muffling shrieks into her flesh. Hips shuddering so hard he thought they might give out. Bracing his forearms under her thighs, hands holding her ass up.

Her eyes fully rolled up into her head as she came. Falling forward, scraping her knees against the wall. Shuddering in pulses against his mouth. Her cum flooding into his mouth, lapping it eagerly down his throat. Moaning around swallows. His hand returning to his cock to quickly cum the last of his pleasure.

She fell down into his lap, legs straddled around his thighs. Shaking out breath into his shoulder.

He wound tightly around her, hushing into her ear. Stroking the braids out of her hair. Returning her to him, one caress at a time.

She grasped tightly around him.

"I love you." She moaned, throat raw from pleasure and swelling tears. "I want to go home."

He buried into her shoulder, his own tears threatening.

"I love you so much. Let's go home."

~

[watchmorecinema]

Yukio Mishima has been trending this week for uh, reasons. He was a world renowned Japanese author and all of his work is overshadowed by his actions on November 25, 1970. You might not want to read more about this guy because he is horrible and disgusting, but he's utterly fascinating and the movie about him is brilliant.

He's a really interesting character, to the point that he sounds fictional. He's gay, obsessed with ritualistic death, a right wing lunatic, led a private militia that was halfway to a cult, and also was a legitimately great author. His life is covered in the film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters and it's easily the most beautiful film I've seen in my life. Look at the stills I posted above; every frame of this movie looks like that. It's all just a series of beautiful paintings with people living in them.

The way the film is structured is that it tells the story of his life in three ways. His past is told in black and white flashbacks with static cameras. This is closer to how a movie from the 50's would look like (specifically ones directed by Yasujirō Ozu). The events of three of his books are told with this beautifully stylized look, with sets that look like stage plays. The events of November 25, 1970 is told in an almost normal fashion, with regular colors and competent camerawork. The past is nostalgic, the present is mundane and only in fantasy can you truly come alive.

Through this movie we see the ideology of Mishima coming through. His nationalism, his sexual feelings and his thoughts on beauty and death all come together. Death isn't just a violent and tragic end, it is in itself a beautiful act. Beauty is the only true goal of life and creating beauty brings honor. Growing old and ugly is an act of hate; to die at your peak is to give love back to the world. It is therefore treasonous to live long enough to die peacefully. He pities what heaven must look like now; when men died young and beautiful it was paradise, but now it is filled with old men.

This is an objectively insane way to view the world but it is also fascinating. How much of this was what he believed, and how much of it was just begging for attention? In one instance when asked why he moved to the right politically he said "because the left was full". It was a joke answer, but he clearly wanted to be in the spotlight. His shield society was a paramilitary group dedicated to living a virtuous life of beauty, honor and old ideals. It was also a group of good looking, athletic young men led by a (barely) closeted, conservative gay man. So much of his life could have gone differently but also he was pretty much in control the whole time; he was independently wealthy and revered on the world stage. He could do whatever he wanted, and apparently the way his life went *is* what he wanted.

What's special about Mishima, both in the film and in real life, is that he's a smart and eloquent guy. In films the guy with a crazy worldview is someone like Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver or D-Fens from Falling Down. Travis couldn't understand the alienation and loneliness he felt and he couldn't find any healthy solutions. D-Fens was smart enough but not emotionally strong enough to confront his problems or deal with them maturely. These are people that could benefit greatly from therapy (other examples include Joker from Joker, Rupert Pupkin from the King of Comedy, Frank Murdoch from God Bless America, Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, Tyler Durden from Fight Club and so, so many more).

These are either 20 something year olds that are lost in the world, alienated and lonely, or 40 something year olds with a mid life crisis when they realize that everything has fallen apart. People who don't know where to go, or realize it's too late to change things. Travis Bickle had basically no friends, no family, no charisma with women and a lot of rage and anger. D-Fens lost his job, his self respect and was estranged from his ex-wife and daughter. These are people who's lives are shit at best (Patrick Bateman is a bit of a subversion. He is rich and successful, but his life is completely hollow, his relationships are shallow and he personally is very, very pathetic. I need to write about American Psycho later that film is great too.).

Mishima is different. He's smart enough to understand his issues and how to find help. He's got the money and means to do so. He's famous and rich enough that he could basically get away with anything weird or eccentric so long as it was harmless. On the world stage he was a popular author, and at home he led a life of political activism. If he was unhappy he could easily find healthy ways to fix it. His self destruction was the most avoidable of any of them, yet he's the only one that existed in real life. You expect these people to have serious personality flaws and unfixable (or seemingly unfixable) problems, not to be poetic writers that adhere to healthy living and regularly journal about their emotions, while enjoying respect from their peers and fulfillment in their work.

It's a hell of a film. Paul Schrader has not written or directed anything better (he actually wrote Taxi Driver too, so he had some experience with this type of character before) and it stands out as an incredible experience to watch. Like, Mishima's life is public knowledge and you can probably guess how it went, but I've purposefully not said what happened on November 25, 1970 because I don't want to spoil it. It's an event that actually happened but it's better for you to find out via the film than some wikipedia page.

[whipitgod]

Don’t Worry About The Tomatoes

Hannibal Lecter x Will graham

oneshot - wc :1.2k

summary: not that plot heavy just a mix of fluff and crack jammed into a meet ugly trope/au. will is hannibal’s horrible new neighbor and hannibal struggles to be that angry about his behavior.

warnings: none other than potential bad writing and both of them being kind of ooc lol

a/n: feedback is greatly appreciated!!!! remember to like and reblog if you enjoy this, maybe even follow me ~ this really got away from me, i didn’t really have a solid plan going into but if you like it lmk and ill write a part 2 or something :D

Hannibal shuts his book sharply, standing with a huff and turning to look out the window into the backyard. His newest neighbor has been nothing short of a pain since he moved in a couple weeks before, from the loud rumble of power tools as he made repairs on the house, to the barking of the many dogs that he seems to have.

Hannibal feels somewhat willing to look past the noise of the power tools given that the home is admittedly a bit run down. Truthfully he can't remember who the last tenant of the home was, he thinks he remembers an old woman living in the home alone. The only thoughts crossing his mind as he peers through the window at the man hacking at an overgrown tree with a chainsaw are that he wishes the old lady still resided in the home, and he hopes the man has an unfortunate accident with the loud saw. Hannibal has yet to even see the man, having no idea his name let alone what he looks like, but he’s fantasized of taking his life on more occasions than he can count in the short time that the man has lived there.

“This is ridiculous.'' Hannibal grouses, pushing away from the window with the intent to confront the man, who cares about witnesses at this point; he'd be surprised if the other neighbors don't thank him for his service to the community. As soon as his hand reaches the door knob a loud crash echoes from the backyard, he hopes its the frustrating man falling to his demise,

“I'm not that lucky.” Hannibal muses quietly, making quick strides back towards the window. What he sees is enough to make him gasp in shock, pressing a hand against his heart as he takes in the damage. The branch the man was sawing at had fallen directly onto Hannibal's garden, the plants beneath the branch no question destroyed. He had just gotten that tomato plant staked properly. With a renewed vigor he charges out of the room and towards the back door grumbling quietly to himself as he goes,

“Going to use my bare hands, might not even eat him,” He grabbed the knob and pushed the door open, “going to have to see if there is even anything left to eat.” He continues his quiet murmurs until he spots the man with his back turned to him.

“Excuse me,” Hannibal spat, unable to disguise most of the anger bubbling inside him, “You destroyed my-” he’s unable to finish his complaint as the man finally turns to face him.

Oh god, he’s probably the most attractive man Hannibal has ever laid eyes on. Hannibal sucks in a sharp breath, opening his mouth with the intent to speak again, though he doubts he’d be able to get the words out. He doesn't have to worry about speaking because the man beats him to it,

“Hello?” dear god even his voice is attractive, a rasp coming from what hannibal assumes is years of smoking met with a slight southern drawl, must have grown up somewhere in the south, hannibal rolls the thought around his head a few times all while staring blankly at the gruff man in front of him.

“You must be the owner of the garden I demolished,” the man started, “sorry about that.” He didn't really sound all that sorry, if anything his tone bordered on teasing; if Hannibal was in his right mind he would have found the mans flippant attitude towards the situation unspeakably rude, but he was currently finding it hard to feel any anger towards the beautiful man in front of him. It took Hannibal a moment to even recognize that the man had asked him a question, realizing only when he met the man's curious gaze.

“Hannibal Lecter,” he held out his hand and the other man gripped it firmly. The first thought that went through Hannibal's mind was strong followed quickly by a horrified what am I doing?

“Will Graham,” the man responded, “Again I’m really sorry about your garden.” The man, Will Hannibal's mind supplied, still didn't really seem that sorry; before hannibal could truly think about that he found himself responding quickly,

“It’s not a big deal,” the phrase leaves his mouth before he can stop himself, “It was an honest mistake.” he says the last part with a smile determined not to show the gravity of his internal conflict. Oh god what is wrong with me, his brain supplies in a panicked tone, of course it’s a big deal, it is a huge deal.

“Are you sure?” Will questions returning the smile, “I wouldn't blame you if you were angry with me.”

Hannibal stares at him blankly for a moment, he wants to be angry, he's digging around in his brain trying to find his anger. He can't be angry, not when all he can think about is seeing him smile again. Dear god what is my problem, flashes through Hannibal's mind,

“I'm very sure,” Hannibal affirmed, “I actually planned on digging up the garden and planting some new things.” hannibal prays to whatever higher power there may be that will doesn't notice the flood of different emotions that flash across his face as the words leave his mouth, it seems like his prayer works because Will responds with a smile,

“Would you like my help replanting? Given that I’m the one that crushed it.” Will chuckles softly as the last words leave his mouth, Hannibal also lets out a soft laugh before he can catch himself.

“Oh I couldn't ask that of you,” Hannibal replied, a pitiful attempt at denying how much he wants the help, if only as an excuse to spend more time around the enthralling man in front of him.

“You didn't ask,” will starts with a small smile, “I offered.”

Hannibal returns the smile,it feels like the only thought his brain is capable of is what am I doing? Before he can think better of it hannibal lets out a sigh,

“Well I would be remiss to turn down help when offered,” Hannibal begins, “Would you be free tomorrow to start working?” Hannibal sucks in a quiet breath waiting for the other man to respond, why am I so nervous?

“Even if i wasn't i’d make the time,” Will responds with a teasing smile, “how does noon sound?”

Hannibal has half the mind to think that it almost sounds like Will is flirting though he doesn't have the time to dwell on it before he's rushing out a response,

“Noon sounds perfect.”

Will sends Hannibal another smile accompanied with a teasing look, almost like he understands the effect he's had on Hannibal's blood pressure since the beginning of their interaction.

“It's a date,” Will confirms, “see you tomorrow hannibal.” and with that the man turns and begins walking towards the door of the worn down house, not sparing another look at hannibal as he enters the house and shuts the door softly behind him. Hannibal stands there for a minute staring blankly at the door, his thoughts cascading through his head faster than he can even recognize what they are. He doesn't even realize that his feet had carried him back to his home until he steps through the doorway and the door slams shut behind him, snapping him from his stupor. He lets out a harsh breath attempting to gather his thoughts,

“What the hell just happened.”

[soapskies]

Hey! I'm after reading your platonic yandere Riddler with a teenager/kid that tried to escape and it got me thinking 🤔.

What would it be like if it was with arkham knight scarecrow?

(Same prompt as riddlers one just with scarecrow)

Please and thank you ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

YANDERE AK SCARECROW CATCHES READER ESCAPING

MALE CHILD READER. PLATONIC HCS.

You couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your fists every time you thought about Scarecrow. Every waking moment you had to spend in his lab was starting to drive you crazy. All the screaming, fighting, fear and helplessness…last time you helped him restrain his victim , you came out of it with deep, ugly scratches on your arms, far worse than previous sessions.

You tried to hide them from Jonathan, god bless anyone who becomes the recipient of his anger, but it’s difficult to keep things from someone who’s worked with all sorts of people in his career, who knew every tell of yours down to the last uneasy twitch. And tears are hard to hide for a child who’s fought to keep their emotions down for so long.

Suffice to say, that test subject never left the session with his face intact. That dose of toxin was far greater than you’d ever seen administered; the poor man writhed and clawed like he was trying to dig it out of his very flesh, and nobody seemed to care that you were standing right there to witness it all…

You tossed and turned all night, wishing your memory could be scrubbed with a sponge. Why did you put up with this? Why would a “father” act so callous? Sure, he may feed you, clothe you, soothe you through your nightmares… but that all must be a front, for a man who enjoyed to watch people suffer.

All you needed was the perfect distraction. Something that would disrupt his routine enough that you would be the last of his concerns.

That’s right. The fear toxin! It would be a real shame if he got a taste of his own medicine.

Scarecrow didn’t mind you exploring all that much, it was only natural for a child, and besides, he was hoping you would start to gain genuine interest in his work eventually.

You knew exactly where he kept his pressurized containers of nightmare fuel. They were sitting in the lab with that macabre exam table, sharing a wall with your bedroom…

So you set up a trap, one that would trigger the room to fill up with toxin when Crane went in for his next experiment…

And while that was going on, you would hopefully be halfway across Gotham

Just as you were about to jump down from the window, you felt your body start to tremble, and suddenly the drop seemed much farther below…

You scrambled back onto your bed, only to be confronted by shadows that ran across your walls and the malicious tentacles of a monster reaching for you from under your bed.

You spent the whole night hiding under the covers, praying for it all to be over, until morning came.

Scarecrow seemed particularly smug the next morning, prodding you about how well you slept.

When you went to check what had gone wrong with your trap, you realized that the containers were purposefully set up so that the toxin would move through the vent connected to your room…

You never tried anything like that again.

Scarecrow wouldn’t be a violent yandere, especially to a child, but he loves to fuck with you.

You always feel like something’s wrong, but you can never prove that Scarecrow had something to do with it. You didn’t dare ask him about the fear toxin incident. You knew it would only confirm to him that you had tried to gas him…

For the most part Jonathan doesn’t punish you for it, only throws your attempts back at you like they were nothing, instilling the fear into you that if you ever tried anything, he is more than capable of hurting you ten times greater.

If you do try to escape again after this, he’ll start to grow worried. Why aren’t you being receptive to his ideas? Hasn’t he been a good father to you? Hasn’t he shown you the power fear holds?

Maybe you wouldn’t mind having your pillowcase laced with his toxins at night… those bedtime monsters sure do keep little boys like you in line, don’t they?

[czenzo]

Just an Act

[ao3]

summary: When Lockwood & Co. are called out on a case involving a jealousy-ridden Visitor, Lucy is forced to confront her own tangle of feelings and why it bothers her so much to see someone shamelessly flirt with her boss.

words: 6,360 rating: T

notes: this is my secret santa gift for Mar (@thegirlfromthesea)—I hope you like it! thank you to the Lockwood discord for hosting it again :)

happy holidays!

“So, Mr Lockwood, where’d you learn to use your rapier like that?”

Lucy snorted; she couldn’t help it.

A girl, not much older than Lucy, looked up at Lockwood through thick lashes. She was stereotypically pretty—irritatingly so—and had taken quite the shine to the company leader.

Lockwood smiled politely. “I took lessons as a young boy. Fantastic teachers, they were. Now, er—if you don’t mind, Miss…?”

“Haine,” she said with a smile. “Emily Haine. But, ooh, just Emily is fine.”

Watching Haine stick by Lockwood’s side as he inspected the nooks and crannies of the master bedroom made Lucy think of a limpet. The girl leaned in further and ogled his figure in that slightly too tight suit of his; it negated the explanation she gave of wanting to ‘learn the tricks of the trade’ when they first encountered her. They were only an hour into their work for the evening, and Lucy had already held back several scoffs.

Lockwood awkwardly cleared his throat. “Miss Haine, if you would be so kind as to give us a tad more space so we can work efficiently, that would be wonderful.”

She took a single step back.

George, who had been mid-tea sip, spluttered. “Christ. Lockwood, I’ll go and get a head start on the other room readings while you deal with this. Luce, do you want—”

Lucy scooped up her bag and held the door open for him. “Yes.”

Once the door swung shut behind them, George turned to her with a knowing look. “Not too keen on her, are you?”

She gave him a sidelong glance as they advanced down the hallway. “You don’t seem to be, either.”

“Anyone—or anything—that hinders our work is a nuisance in my book, sweet young girl or not." He paused to clean his glasses on the hem of his jumper then added with a chuckle, "She batted her eyelashes so much I thought she’d fly away any minute.”

Lucy held back what she was sure was a very ugly bout of laughter. “I can’t believe Mr Albrecht is letting his staff run around all willy-nilly while we’re trying to work.”

“I doubt that's the case,” George said. “This place is massive. He’ll have loads of staff, but she’s the only one we’ve come across. There must be a reason for it.”

Lucy’s reply tapered off as she eyed up the closed door they were distancing themselves from. Lockwood was on the other side of it—and now, with a lack of audience, Haine was likely to throw all shame out of the window. Lucy shook away the mental image of her idiotically cuddling up to him. Lockwood had self-respect and at least a shred of common sense, she reminded herself. He would keep turning down her advances despite being alone, surely?

“Luce?”

She blinked and turned to George, only to find they were no longer walking. “What?”

“You trailed off and stopped. Everything okay?”

She looked back to the door again, for what she told herself would be the last time.

“Ooh, she’s really gotten under your skin, hasn’t she? Tell you what, how about we get some recordings of this…” he pushed open the door beside him and it opened with a menacing creak, “lovely little bathroom—god, it looks like it’s never been used—and then we can crack open the biscuits?”

Biscuits were a good solution to (or rather, distraction from) many problems. Not that Lucy had any in that particular moment—Lockwood could fend for himself, Haine’s pursuit of him was not her concern—but she wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to dig into the digestives.

The bathroom wasn’t far from the size of Lucy’s bedroom at 35 Portland Row, and George hadn’t been kidding when he first peered inside: it was squeaky clean. When Mr Albrecht, their filthy-rich client and owner of the property, had given them one last briefing before hightailing it out of the place, Lucy recalled he had mentioned something about eight bathrooms. At the time she’d brushed it off in favour of focusing on the important info—i.e., the Visitor that was disturbing his family and targeting staff—but as she swept her gaze across the pristine porcelain and sparkling tiles, it came back to her with clarity. Eight bathrooms between its three non-staff occupants… no wonder this one looked as if it had been pulled straight from a catalogue.

“I’d bet good money we’re the only human contact this room’s seen, besides the installers,” George sniffed, pulling out his notepad. “I’d bet those digestives that nothing’s here, but we ought to take readings anyway.”

They went through the motions. Lucy checked temperatures (nothing out of the ordinary, as suspected) and Listened for disturbances (the pipes were a bit squeaky, but that didn’t count as a psychical threat), while George jotted everything down. Once they were done, they wasted no time in retrieving the biscuits and thermoses from the depths of their bags.

For the first time that evening, Lucy took the skull jar out. It sat between them in their small iron circle (made more out of habit than necessity) and immediately began pulling faces at George. It had formed an annoying habit of waffling while clients spoke and shouting random numbers as she took readings, so for the sake of her own sanity she’d kept the jar shut tight.

Up until now.

“I reckon if you bludgeon that soppy little fool you could hide her body in this bathtub and it’d be years before anyone found her.”

George looked at Lucy expectantly.

“It doesn’t like Miss Haine,” she translated. George simply nodded and dunked a biscuit in his tea.

“That was some shocking paraphrasing, Lucy. I never said I didn’t like the girl—I said I’d be completely at peace if you caved her skull in and made the body disappear. Two very different things, I tell you.”

Lucy decided that didn’t warrant a reply. “What do you think about the case, George?”

His face lit up at the chance to delve into it again; it was so charmingly George that Lucy felt a sudden surge of fondness for him. “The staff’s reports of a detailed apparition makes a Spectre quite likely. One mentioned it looked like a young man, so I researched deaths on the property while at the archives—and sure enough, a few poor sods have met their end here. An ancestor of Albrecht’s from the 19th century got shot just outside, a lad who used to work here not long ago slipped down the main staircase, and a burglar recently got caught in the act and had a heart attack when the police apprehended him. What a way to go, eh?”

“Would any of them have a reason to return, though?”

George shrugged noncommittally. “In one way or another. The ancestor’s death stopped the ownership of the property transferring to him, the ex-staff might’ve been unhappy with how he was treated here, and the burglar… well, if I died in those circumstances, I’d be pretty miffed. I’d come back to haunt the place as a distraction from that embarrassment.”

“Your whole life’s an embarrassment.”

This time, it was Lucy’s turn to splutter mid-sip.

“What? What did it say?”

She shook her head. “Nothing important.”

George narrowed his eyes, but soon let it go. “Another biscuit?”

“Go on, then.” Lucy reached for the proffered sleeve but froze when an ear-splitting shriek echoed down the hall. She shoved the skull jar in her bag and discarded the tea and biscuits in favour of bolting in the direction of the scream, with George not far behind.

Lucy threw open the door, rapier in hand.

The skull, half-sticking out of her bag, peered over her shoulder and cackled. It let out a comment so crude Lucy would have winced if she weren’t so distracted by the way Haine had her arms wrapped around Lockwood.

George panted heavily beside Lucy. “What happened?”

Haine held on for a moment longer, then had the gall to look sheepish as she slowly pulled away. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr Lockwood! I could’ve sworn I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, and oh, it looked awful, and I knew I could count on you to protect me from it.”

“Pah! What a trollop.”

Lucy, rapier still raised, looked to Lockwood. His face was pointedly blank as he considered the blushing girl beside him. In the blink of an eye, one of his trademark smiles appeared—to Lucy’s relief, it wasn’t one of the charming or flirting variety, but instead one of careful politeness.

“I’m glad you feel you can put your trust in us,” he said, “but I can assure you there’s certainly no psychic activity in this room, according to the readings we got. Not a single death glow, either. There’s a slight draught in here—perhaps the movement you saw was the curtains.”

“The atmosphere seems to be taking a toll on you, Miss,” Lucy said. Her knuckles ached from her grip tightening around her rapier hilt. “We should get you set up to stay somewhere else for the night, so we can work without you getting in the—er, without you being at risk.”

“Nice catch, really smooth. Though personally, if I cared enough about dear old Locky, I would’ve just told the bint to sod off.”

Haine eyed Lucy with disdain. “What on earth is that thing sticking out of your bag?”

“Nothing,” Lucy said, shoving the jar further in and out of sight. She hadn’t the time to flick the lever in the same motion, so the skull’s cries and colourful insults were still audible. She prided herself on her ability to keep a poker face as it described, at length, where exactly Miss Haine should shove it.

Lockwood swiftly moved the conversation on. “Good idea, Luce. Mr Albrecht mentioned he usually has a team of night staff—where are they tonight, Miss Haine?"

“Most stayed home. The few who didn't get the memo in time and showed up anyway were sent to a nearby hotel for the night... But it’s so late now, they wouldn’t possibly take me in.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t you join them?”

“Ah, well, when he informed them all of the arrangements, I was preoccupied.”

“With what?”

“I was—er, ah… I was polishing. The bathrooms. You saw how clean they were, yes?”

George peered at her over his glasses. “We assumed it was because no one used them.”

“Oh no, they do. And I clean them—a lot! So I missed Mr Albrecht’s instructions. And then I stumbled upon you three!”

“Four.”

Lucy frowned. “If she gets hurt, Lockwood… We’ll be liable.”

“Yes, that is true,” Lockwood said, his smile now laced with a hint of uncertainty. “Time’s ticking, though, and we need to get a move on. Since we’ve deemed this room safe, we can keep her in here. The two of you can help me quickly fortify the room, and then we can resume work. Is that alright with you, Miss Haine?”

Lucy had never seen her expression look so sour. Her short reply of “Yes” was not convincing at all, but the trio got to work laying out protection for her nonetheless.

“All sorted,” Lockwood said, clapping his hands together. “You shouldn’t be disturbed in here, but just to be safe, don’t leave this circle. If you need anything at all, give us a shout.”

“There’s some tea in that thermos,” George added, “and I’ve generously donated a few biscuits. That’ll keep you going til dawn, I reckon.”

“Thank you,” Haine said stiffly.

Lucy plastered a smile onto her face, though she couldn’t manage the same amount of fake politeness as Lockwood. “You’re welcome.”

Without the hindrance of a fourth unqualified person, Lockwood & Co.’s efficiency skyrocketed. Lucy lost count of how many rooms they took readings in. The place was eerily labyrinthian, and she was grateful that George had the mind to print out a map beforehand.

The evening grew darker, and after locating the area with the most psychical red flags—the staff quarters, a small series of rooms in the basement—set up their own iron circle in preparation for any oncoming manifestations.

After filling Lockwood in on his suspicions, George sat cross-legged and leaned back on his hands. “I’m surprised we haven’t heard a peep out of Haine yet.”

“I thought she’d be calling out for her knight in shining armour in minutes,” Lucy said, an amused smirk creeping onto her face.

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you’re referring to me?”

“‘Course I am. She was all over you.”

“I wouldn’t say that… ” He averted his gaze. “But she did seem rather fond of me.”

“God knows why. I’d rather neck a street rat than look Lockwood in the eye.”

Lockwood frowned as he watched the skull’s ghostly mouth move. “What is it saying?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Should we let Albrecht know one of his staff’s gone rogue?” George said, straightening to stretch his back with an odd groan.

Lucy wasn’t sure why every fibre of her being was advocating for the girl’s downfall. After a moment’s consideration, she chalked it up to being ‘hangry’—as Bobby Vernon once used to describe George in a heated conversation—and grabbed another biscuit.

“Legally, it would be the right thing to do,” Lockwood mused. “But I’d hate to be the reason the poor girl loses her job. If she keeps shtum for the rest of the night, I’m happy to let it go. Is that fair?”

George shrugged. Lucy made a noise of vague discontent. The skull voiced its own unpleasant opinion.

“Great,” Lockwood said with a grin. “It’s settled.” He popped a piece of gum in his mouth and checked his watch. “Miasma’s setting in. We ought to be seeing activity soon… Have you heard anything yet, Luce?”

As a matter of fact, she had—the skull’s voice notwithstanding. “The occasional word. I can’t make out what it's saying, but it’s definitely a young man’s voice. It’s steadily increasing in volume and frequency.”

“Good, we’re on the right track. George is probably spot on with the Spectre assumption. And considering where we are, it’s likely to be the lad who used to work here.” He eyed up the room around them, and Lucy followed suit. 

Presumably, this was where Albrecht’s staff spent their breaks, away from the demands of the filthy-rich family. They were in the ‘lobby’, so to speak, of the staff area. It was a small room with sparse seating, various mops and brooms propped against the far wall, and an old radio next to some stale refreshments. Branching off from the main room was a restroom and a dingy bedroom containing the flattest mattress she’d ever laid eyes on. It was so far from the life of luxury the Albrechts lived it almost felt like a different building entirely. It meant George was probably correct about yet another thing—the deceased staff member might have returned seeking revenge against his stingy employer.

Lockwood’s narrowed eyes suggested he was having the same train of thought. “What I am wondering, however, is why now? You said he died a year or so ago, George, but Mr Albrecht said his staff only started complaining in the past few months.”

“Can’t say for sure. Maybe someone disturbed his Source while working?”

The skull let out a cackle. Lucy’s gaze snapped to it. “Do you know something?”

“Maybe I do.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows. “And?”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“There’s no need to be difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult, it’s just” —it let out an elated cry—“this is hilarious. You’re so close to the truth! I’d bet good money you can’t get it through your thick skull, though.”

“What?” She frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lockwood leaned forward. “What’s it saying, Luce?”

“It knows something. Said we’re close to the truth, but doesn’t have faith we’ll work it out.”

“No no, I said you. Cubbins’ll be on it in no time, I reckon. He isn’t riddled with the same distractions as you are.”

She carefully repeated its words, and George’s face lit up. “Oh, now I really want to know what it’s going on about.”

“Are you talking to a jar?” An annoyingly familiar voice said from the entrance.

Three heads whipped around in surprise, one haunted skull cackled gleefully, and one Spectre manifested in the middle of the room.

Haine screamed as Lockwood leapt forward, rapier slicing through the Visitor within seconds of its appearance.

Lucy and George scrambled to their feet. With the skull as a distraction, Lucy hadn’t noticed the disembodied voice becoming more prominent, but now it had her full attention. The pressure in her head made her wince and let out a hiss of pain. George gently placed a hand on her shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles in a silent moment of understanding.

Lockwood hauled Haine into the iron circle. “What—and I say this out of concern for your safety—the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Miss Haine? We asked you to stay inside the circle. You could’ve been killed!”

Haine was deathly pale, and it took far longer than expected for her to voice a reply. “I… I know him.”

“You recognised the Visitor?” George said. The skull continued to laugh.

She nodded shakily. “His name is Adam. He works—worked here. We… had a thing, so to speak. He was lovely. But one day he… he—oh, god, he—”

“Slipped and fell down that huge staircase in the foyer?”

Haine let out a choked sob.

The voice had quietened; Lucy was able to think clearly again. “You said you ‘had a thing’?”

“His return could have something to do with that,” George said.

Lockwood nodded. “It’s likely. Now, Miss Haine, I beg you to stay inside these chains. We’re dealing with a dangerous Type Two that has personal ties to you. He may target you. Please let us work unhindered.”

“Or, if you do get in the way, at least make your death entertaining.”

“Unfaithful…”

Lucy tried to discreetly whisper to the jar she’d left on the floor. “What?”

“I said, if she does get in the way—”

“No, no, not that. The other thing.”

“That wasn’t me, Lucy. All this time being your partner in crime and you can’t even recognise my voice?” It scoffed. “Those biscuits have a higher IQ than you.”

“Mine…”

The words were a welcome distraction from the way Haine clung onto Lockwood’s sleeve. “I can hear him. I can make out the words.”

“What is he saying?”

“Unfaithful. Mine.” She paused, and then, “Cheat.”

Haine tightened her grip. “Adam said those things?”

“Oh,” George said. “Oh.”

“What did I say, Lucy? I bloody knew he’d catch on first! Oh, I’m a genius. I deserve some kind of award.”

“What?” Lockwood said, somewhat impatient.

“Miss Haine,” George said slowly, “are you naturally flirtatious?”

The sudden change of topic startled her. “Well, I wouldn’t say that… But if a man’s good-looking, I’m not going to ignore it.” She glanced at Lockwood for a split second. “Take Richie, for example—he started here earlier this year, and I know we’re colleagues, but you only live once. I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to—”

“When did he start working here?”

“Er… A few months ago, I think?” Her irritation was visible as she spoke to George; it was a stark contrast to how she behaved with Lockwood. “How is this relevant?”

“There we go,” George said with satisfaction. “Adam still has feelings for you, and isn’t particularly pleased to see you moving on.”

Haine let out a small, dumb, “Oh.”

Lockwood whistled, long and slow. “Visitors with romantically oriented returns tend to be the most aggressive. Stay on your guard, everyone. And once again, Miss Haine, do not—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, though everyone surely knew what he planned to say. They were all too distracted by the Spectre’s return to dwell on it, however.

He stood—or rather, floated a few centimetres off the ground—near the iron circle, and now Lucy could get a closer look at him. He was faded and blurry around the edges, but she could still make out the inner details. He wore a similar getup to Haine, with the dark trousers and a slightly wrinkled white button-up. His attire, combined with his red hair and thin face, made him look alarmingly like a fusion of Lockwood and Kipps. What caught Lucy’s attention the most, however, was the ugly bruising circling his neck. It was a grim reminder of how he met his untimely death.

He was so young. He couldn’t have been much older than Lockwood or George. Emotions were distracting; Lucy let out a shaky sigh and tried to let it wash over her. Meanwhile Haine, untrained and vulnerable, broke out into a fit of sobs.

“How are we dealing with this, Lockwood?” George said, ready to leap into action with his rapier in hand.

“Miss Haine, I’m sorry to ask this when you’re feeling so delicate, but we need to locate Adam’s Source. Do you have any idea as to what it could be?”

Haine sniffed and ungracefully dragged a sleeve across her damp face. “No. I haven’t got a clue, I…”

Lucy felt a pang of sympathy. It was almost enough to make her forget what had irked her about the girl earlier. “It could be anything with sentimental value to him, or something involved in his… passing.”

The skull scoffed. “Don’t start going soft on her now.”

Haine turned away from the Spectre and curled further in on herself. “He wasn’t a materialistic person. Never let me get him gifts. But—oh. Oh! He was working when he fell, he…” Her eyes swept the room and stopped when they found the mops. “He was using one of those! Oh god, you don’t think…?”

Lockwood nodded solemnly. “It could be one of them, yes.”

Adam’s voice was still audible in Lucy’s mind. “He’ll pounce the second we step foot out of these chains.”

Haine moved closer to Lockwood. In the blink of an eye she was leaning into him, one hand resting gently on his arm. “I’m so scared. What if he—”

A cry ripped from Adam’s throat as he rushed forward.

Lucy flinched and stumbled backwards. She crashed into Lockwood, who caught her and set her upright. “Miss Haine, try to keep your hands off our boss. Your late ex isn’t very fond of him.”

“He sees Lockwood as competition? By far the worst case of insecurity I’ve ever seen.”

“He sees Lockwood as competition,” Lucy murmured, then repeated it louder as it dawned on her. “Lockwood’s riling him up. If we can get Adam to disregard him, he might calm down long enough for us to reach his Source.”

“Good thinking, Luce,” George said.

Lockwood took a careful, wide sidestep away from Haine. “How are we pulling that off?”

“You’re a real threat to him if you’re single,” Haine said. “You are single, aren’t you?”

Lucy’s head pounded as Adam’s voice boomed.

“Er,” Lockwood said eloquently.

“Not any more,” George declared, before pushing Lucy and Lockwood together. They collided and instinctively grabbed onto one another to avoid tumbling out of the chains.

As Lockwood looked down at Lucy, George’s intent dawned on her. She adjusted herself so one hand wrapped around Lockwood’s torso, and leant into him like she’d seen Haine doing all evening. Slowly, Lockwood’s hand reached up behind her and rested at the nape of her neck, toying with the hairs there like it was second nature. Lucy’s stomach did strange flips while the skull feigned retching and loudly voiced its complaints.

Haine made an odd noise. George smiled like the cat that got the cream and turned to face Adam triumphantly—only to find he was no longer there.

“Give it a minute,” he said. “Miss Haine, try coming onto Lockwood again.”

“You can’t force those kinds of things,” Haine insisted.

“Try it anyway.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mr Lockwood, you’re looking rather dashing in that waistcoat.”

“Blind as a bat, she must be.”

Lucy turned her head to look at the waistcoat in question and was met by a familiar smell she’d come to associate with the feeling of home; for a brief second, she almost forgot she was out on a case.

The waistcoat did look nice, albeit a bit snug.

“Oh, I’d gouge my eyes out if I had any.”

George was tense in anticipation, but relaxed after a few moments of nothing. “I dare say I think it worked. Adam seems happy that Lockwood can’t possibly be interested in Miss Haine if he’s preoccupied with Luce.”

“‘Preoccupied’ is an odd way of putting it,” Lockwood said. His thin fingers continued to drift along the back of Lucy’s neck, and it was a whole world of distraction. She struggled to think straight and subconsciously tightened her grip on Lockwood’s waist. If he noticed she’d brought him closer, he didn’t let on.

“Stay there,” George said, holding his hands up as if they were jittery animals. “I’ll have a look at the mops.”

“It would be pure comedy gold if Cubbins kicks the bucket while you’re busy fondling each other. God, Lucy, you’re only supposed to be acting. Dial it back a bit, you desperate ninny.”

Lucy watched with bated breath as George cautiously stepped over the chains. He held his rapier aloft in anticipation and in a few large steps reached the far wall where the mops stood. Keeping his back to the wall, George stayed alert as he passed a hand over each mop. He violently flinched upon making contact with the last; it teetered and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Got it. It’s freezing cold.”

Lucy held tightly onto Lockwood. His hand had steadied on her shoulder; the weight kept her grounded as she Listened for oncoming danger. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Haine alternating between giving her strange looks and watching George.

The skull faked a yawn. “Just get on with it already.”

The sound of its voice mingled with Adam’s whispers—he was still present, still watching, and had taken notice of George’s movements.

“Hurry, George,” Lucy murmured. Her hand came to rest on a salt bomb in her belt.

From the depths of his duffel, George had to retrieve one of their largest silver nets. It came out snarled and scrunched, and for an excruciatingly long moment, he stood there untangling it.

“God, this is painful,” Haine said. She watched for a second longer before huffing and stepping out of the chains towards him. “Here, let me—”

“CHEAT!” roared Adam; he materialised mere feet away and wasted no time in rushing towards Haine with outstretched arms.

Lucy and Lockwood moved synchronously. Together they leapt, Lockwood brandishing his rapier and Lucy taking aim with a salt bomb, and landed in the space between Haine and her enraged lover. Lockwood’s blade swung and the bomb soared from Lucy’s hand; both hit Adam with a vicious hiss of ectoplasm and a ghostly howl.

Not a moment later, George unceremoniously dropped the silver net on the mop.

Lucy’s ears popped and her jaw ached as the effects of the Visitor’s presence lifted. She didn’t mean to lean into Lockwood as her shoulders slumped, but neither of them moved away, and at some point his hand had returned to her shoulder.

“That was possibly the most boring outcome,” the skull lamented. “I was hoping to at least see Lover Girl croak. Not you, Lucy, the other one.”

“That was simple enough,” George said, nudging the sides of the net inwards.

Lockwood grinned. “Good work, you two. And as for you, Miss Haine”—his smile faded as he turned to her—“we’ll have to inform Mr Albrecht about what went down here, which means telling him you, er…”

“Went rogue,” Lucy supplied.

“Rogue, yes.”

Haine’s gaze was unflinching. “Perhaps I should tell him the true nature of your company, then.”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Being involved with your employee isn’t a good look, Mr Lockwood,” she said, with a hint of smugness.

Lockwood scoffed and exchanged glances with Lucy and George. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Are you kidding?” She nodded to him and Lucy, who suddenly became minutely aware of how much of Lockwood’s body was pressed against hers. The warmth of his hand seeped through the layers of her clothes. “It’s obvious that relationship distraction wasn’t an act at all. Tell Albrecht I was here and I’ll tell him what you two really got up to in his bathrooms tonight.”

“Oh. I’m starting to warm up to her, actually.”

*****

As they waited for a taxi outside Albrecht’s manor, Lockwood shivered and turned up his collar. “I can’t believe she blackmailed us with a complete lie.”

“It was either that, or find yourself on the front page of tomorrow’s Times,” George said.

“Lovebird agents shag in millionaire client’s bathtub,” the skull chuckled. “What a headline.”

“We should have found another way around it,” Lucy said indignantly. “Albrecht deserves to know the truth of what happened tonight, whether Haine threatens us or not. Besides—who’s to say he’d even believe her, anyway? She’s only one of… many staff.”

“We can think of something after a good night’s rest.” George yawned. “All the stairs in that place tired me out.”

He fell asleep in the taxi, notebook open in his lap and pen still poised to continue writing his notes. Lucy carefully placed them back in his bag, then caught Lockwood watching her from the passenger seat. His smile was small but tender. It was the one he usually reserved just for Lucy, the one that never failed to make her heart flutter.

“I need to talk to you before you turn in for the night,” he said. He looked at George, then back to her. “Privately, if you don’t mind.”

She suddenly felt as tense as she had been in the iron circle. “‘Course. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” He flashed her one of his bigger smiles, then turned back around to face the roads swathed in the light of the ghost-lamps.

Despite Lockwood’s reassurance, it still niggled at the back of Lucy’s mind the rest of the way home. She gently shook George awake as they pulled up outside 35 Portland Row and bid him goodnight before he began to trudge upstairs.

After dropping the skull jar off in her room, she found Lockwood in the kitchen turning the kettle on. He set out two mugs and turned to lean his back against the counter. When his eyes met hers, he smiled. “Luce,” he said, quietly. “Tea?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Her feet ached from the long night; she hopped up to sit on the counter near him. “What did you want to talk about?”

For a moment his brows furrowed, his gaze drifted to the side, and he seemed as if he were trying to recall something—as if he’d planned out exactly what to say, and was now struggling to find it again. Lucy restlessly shuffled her weight around, trying to make herself comfortable on the cool granite.

Lockwood took a breath. “What Haine said… it bothered me.”

“Well, yeah. She blackmailed us with an outright fib—she’s a nasty piece of work.”

“No—I mean, yes, that was awful, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now. She said it was obvious that us being together ‘wasn’t an act at all’, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said slowly. “But it clearly was. She’s probably as thick as she is manipulative.”

Lockwood’s gaze flicked up to the ceiling; a subtle wince passed across his face before he spoke. “Was it?”

“What?”

He looked back to her, face utterly sincere. “An act.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at, Lockwood.”

Lockwood’s mouth opened and for a second, he appeared on the verge of saying something uninhibited. The kettle clicked, snapping him out of it, and he got to work putting their drinks together. “It was unprofessional. A complete lapse in judgement. I wanted to apologise to you, Lucy, in case it made you uncomfortable.”

“Er… Well, it’s not like there was an alternative. And George was the one who orchestrated it, anyway.”

“That can’t have been our only option,” he insisted. “I shouldn’t have gone along with it. I should have looked for another way for us to deal with the situation.”

“Lockwood, it’s fine. It was fine.” She leaned to the side, putting herself in his line of sight. “You’re fine.”

“Am I?” His usual smile and bravado were gone, leaving nothing but worry etched into his features. “I’m concerned I’m blurring the lines too much in my relationship to you. Yes, I’m your friend, but I’m also your employer. I forget how much power I technically hold over you.” He let the spoon clatter into one of the mugs. “Accidentally using it against you would be my worst nightmare.”

“You haven’t. And even if you did— though you wouldn’t—we both know I wouldn’t let that slide. If you think I can’t stand up for myself and give you a good kick to the backside if you need it, you’re sorely wrong, Lockwood.”

“No, I know. You’re good like that. I just…” He sighed. “I hate how quickly Miss Haine got the wrong impression of us. We were just doing our job—in a slightly unconventional way, yes, but it was for the sake of the case—and she so easily twisted it into something else. What if she thought I was manipulating you, in some way? What if I was, and neither of us realised?”

“Lockwood, you’re being a bit silly.” She took one of the mugs in both hands and soaked up its warmth. “It’s late, you’re tired, and you’re overthinking it.”

He leaned against the counter and stared into his own mug. “You’re probably right.”

“Besides”—she took a sip, winced at how it scalded her tongue, and surprised herself with the words that fell from her mouth���“I never said it made me uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Stop jumping to conclusions.”

Lockwood’s body stilled, and his gaze flicked to her. “What do you mean?”

She sucked her teeth and decided to throw all caution to the wind. “When George contained the Source, I could’ve let go. I had more than enough space to back away from you. Did I?”

“…No?”

“I held on. I leant into you.”

“You were weary.”

“I enjoyed it,” she said. It was an admission to both Lockwood and herself; part of her wanted to curl up and hide as it dawned on her that she had thoroughly loved being so close to him, and that Haine hadn’t just been annoying, she’d been… competition?

Something clicked, and suddenly Lucy understood Adam.

“You enjoyed it,” Lockwood repeated quietly.

“And hypothetically, if we had to do something like that again, it’d be fine. I’d be fine.”

“On the job, of course.”

The corner of her lip twitched upward. “Of course.”

“And hypothetically,” he spoke slowly, edging away from the counter and closer to her, “if something like that were to happen outside a working environment, how would you feel?”

Her words came out close to a whisper as anticipation flushed her cheeks. “Why don’t you find out?”

“Oh.” Lockwood stopped in front of where she perched on the counter. They were almost at eye level. He held her gaze for a moment before faltering, then spoke with uncertainty: “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never—should we—”

“Me neither,” Lucy said, then pulled him in by the waist to kiss him. He stiffened for a second before melting into her touch; she parted her knees for him to move closer.

Lucy’s grasp softened at Lockwood’s sides when he reached up to cup her face. A small noise escaped her before she leant further into the kiss.

Time seemed to warp—though their lips parted after a few moments, it felt as if a whole hour had passed while they were engrossed in each other. They pressed their foreheads together as their quiet gasps for air filled the otherwise silent kitchen.

Someone cleared their throat by the door.

Lucy and Lockwood’s heads clacked together as they startled, warranting identical hisses of pain as they jerked their heads in the direction of the noise.

George leant against the door frame, clothes rumpled and hair unruly—it was clear he’d fallen straight into bed after coming home.

“Got peckish,” he said, adjusting his crooked glasses. “I see you’ve sorted things out. Took you long enough.”

Lockwood was the first to snap out of the shock. “What?”

“Kipps reckoned it would take another few months, at least,” he said, rummaging through the cupboards. “I had more faith than that.” He poured himself a bowl of cornflakes and drifted back out into the hall. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” they both replied, though it came out sounding like a question.

Lockwood caught her eye, and they fell into a fit of laughter. Her head fell onto his shaking shoulder; the rush of giddiness had her feeling wide awake.

For a brief moment, she was not an agent in a Visitor-infested world, she didn’t have to frequently put her life on the line for work, and she hadn’t lost her best friend because of a system that let her down. Instead, she was a normal teenage girl getting flustered over a teenage boy, giggling into the warm fabric of his shirt and hoping he didn’t notice how red her cheeks had become.

Lockwood brushed her hair away with a gentle swipe of his fingers, then pressed a kiss to her temple. “We really are fantastic actors.”

Lucy burst into laughter all over again.

*****

end note: right before posting this I realised I gave Haine almost the exact same name as Metric’s lead singer?? I swear that wasn’t on purpose lol I love u Emily Haines

[yuseirra]

onk is so annoying~~~~~~~!!!aahh I actually feel like I'm going to get so many things right in the end and I have all the answers, I SERIOUSLY DO, I'm not- I'm not being full of myself or making baseless claims, I just SEE what they are trying to do with the writing, the feelings of the characters at least, some of them are painfully obvious BUT THEY JUST KEEP BEATING AROUND THE BUSH AND KEEP TRYING TO TWIST THINGS AWAY AND MAKE IT SEEM LIKE IT ISN'T. That's what I find so annoying!! It's actually one of the reasons why I took a break from reading the comic after some time when I picked up the work after having viewed S1 last year. I know what they're doing and why the characters are written like this, and how they're like this, I'm pretty positive!!

I was annoyed about Aqua last time because he still had feelings for Kana yet the authors made him entangled with Akane while he DIDN'T abandon his feelings for her, I'm really sorry but he shouldn't have treated Akane like that. It wasn't fair. His feelings towards Kana NEVER once changed. I JUST SAW THAT, the writers make him stray away from that feeling he was for painfully long, they better make the whole reveal fulfilling in the end, I KNEW aqukana was going to be endgame for so long. Aqua SHOULD NOT have treated Akane the way he did if he really wanted to build a genuine relationship with her. The anime S2 seems to leave off at there where he asks her to be a couple, well, I think he did try, but he didn't discard his feelings towards Kana as he did either. I just.. knew, that what happened wasn't what he truly wanted and this guy NEVER confronts his desires, he should have gone up and told the person he liked about his feelings but this comic considers something like this a suspense or a plot point and lets it drag on for dozens of chapters... I came BACK after they confirmed about his feelings because GOD it was so obvious. This whole story would have gone nowhere without him ever having gotten true to his feelings, nothing would have been resolved without it because he'd always have had this lingering feeling for Kana and it's just hanging with it without being acknowledged in the story!!! It's not about what ship I support exactly, it's- I know what characters have feeling for whom!!! and they try to make it seem like it's some big secret because I get it, endgame ships are important but Aqua, as much as I cared for him(he's been making me so angry lately though,) was being a douche to both girls. They both can go kick his butt for toying around with those girl's feelings. and ehh I can see regardless of who his love interest is, ultimately the one person he really cares about more than his own life is Ruby HSHSH.. What is that guy doing. His dad told him to go back and live!! I am mad!!!

and now, I already partly have a good idea about how Hikaru and Ai's relationship issue's going to be resolved but they have to DRAG IT ON AND MAKE ME SO NERVOUS. The authors must really like doing this and think it's very clever but again, this is so tedious and nerve-wrecking to watch as a weekly issue with Hikaru being completely out of it, he's totally gone insane!!! The one guy Ai wanted to confess to being in shambles is both so ridiculous and so tragic to look at!! Look at the total mess he's become, they can't make him be so..;; so ugly like this, it's so rude to his being as a character and I'm sure they aren't going to leave him be like this as Ai's other half(YES THIS GUY!!! IS AI'S OTHER HALF!! HE'S DEVISED TO BE HER MATCH FROM THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT STAGE!!)

Come on everyone, I know what I'm doing.

YOU CAN'T MAKE AI SAY WHAT SHE'S SAID TO/ABOUT HER MURDERER!!!! THAT'S 1. SO CRUEL, 2.A DOWNRIGHT DUMB CHOICE AS A WRITER AND IT DOESN'T HAVE A POINT!!

YOU MAKE HER SAY THAT BECAUSE THE GUY DIDN'T DO IT AND IS SOMEONE WHO SHE CAN TRULY LOVE THAT WAY!!! HER NAME MEANS LOVE!!! I just... caught that as soon as this dropped and they lay out all these dumb and confusing ideas later on and make things sooo messy but it's actually, ultimately leading in this direction because DID WE SEE ANY CLEAR PROOF THAT HE WANTED TO HURT AI OR GET BACK AT HER. WE DO NOT BECAUSE HE REALLY DIDN'T DO IT!!! IDK ABT HIM KILLING OTHER PPL THAT'S VAGUE BUT AT LEAST, THIS GUY LOVED AI!!!! WHAT THEY HAVE IS MUTUAL AND HIS FEELINGS FOR HER'S BEEN WHAT'S BEEN MAKING HIM GO ON WHEN HE DOESN'T HAVE ANY WILL TO LIVE AND FEELS PRACTICALLY DEAD AFTER SHE'S GONE!!

THIS GUY WENT INSANE AFTER HE LOST THE ONE SINGLE PERSON WHO MATTERED THE MOST IN HIS LIFE. HE'S NOT HIMSELF!! I just watched how he appeared in the final ep in the anime and I kept going: 'oh this guy. He's totally lost it. He's totally gone mad, the madman. he needs to see a psychiatrist' BECAUSE WHAT'S BEING PRESENTED, IS NOT HIM BEING HIMSELF. I really think.. the guy became possessed or became out of it after he wished to see Ai again. Look, Look at what's happening in the songs. SOMEONE WISHED THE DEAD TO BE BACK. SOMEONE WISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE WITH THEM. THEY WERE WILLING TO DO ANYTHING IF ONLY THAT WERE TO BE POSSIBLE. THEY WISHED UPON "A STAR". There is no one else other than him that would have made that kind of wish.

HE WANTS AI BACK!!!!

Help omygod I'm so tired of the writers just dragging on and spinning things in circles and confusing the readers I JUST GOT THIS OVER AND DONE WITH AS SOON AS THE CHAPTER AND THE SONGS DROPPED AND

If they're doing to make him a villain they never would have had to put in that scene where Ai tells her children she wants her boyfriend to be helped. That totally isn't necessary. They never need to have told us she really loved him and wished to live forever with him. This isn't the type of story where HER efforts would remain a dumb, futile choice, Hikaru's wish may be but AS FOR AI, NO!!!! IT JUST LITERALLY CANNOT HAPPEN!!! THE ENTIRE STORY HAS HER WISH AND LEGACY UNDERLYING IN THE PLOTLINE AS A FLOW, THE STORY DOES NOT FUNCTION WITHOUT IT BECOMING A REALITY!!! RUBY AND AQUA'S WISH AND DRIVES ARE HIGHLY CORRELATED TO THE WISH SHE HAS, AND IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM DETACHING AND STRAYING AWAY FROM IT, IT'S ABOUT THEM ADDING ONTO IT AND STEPPING FORWARD BUT IN THAT SAME DIRECTION! THEY EACH BECAME AN ACTOR AND AN IDOL THE WAY SHE WANTED AND THEY PROGRESSED IN THE ROUTES IN THEIR RESPECTIVE JOURNEYS. THIS STORY CANNOT STAND WITH AI BEING DISREGARDED, SHE'S THE PIVOTAL, KEY PERSON THAT ACTS AS THE BACKBONE!! SO THERE IS NO WAY HER BELOVED IS A SIMPLE CRAZY INSANE MANIAC THE MOMENT SHE TELLS THE READERS SHE ACTUALLY LOVES HIM DEARLY!! SOMETHING'S UP WITH THAT GUY AND HE'S ALSO SOMEONE THAT DESERVES TO BE SAVED!! THAT CHARACTER IS DEVISED TO BE AI'S LOVE. HE IS. AND YOU DON'T MAKE THAT GUY BE A BASELESS SIMPLE FREAK, THAT'S WHY LITERALLY NOTHING'S ACTUALLY BEEN... TOLD TO US ABOUT HIM??? BECAUSE, THE STORY WANTED US TO THINK THAT WAY BUT HE ACTUALLY WASN'T!!!! IT'S RUDE NOT JUST TO HIM BUT AI!! AND I AM SURE THE WRITERS REALLY DO LOVE AND CARE FOR AI. They won't make her look dumb. Not only does it make the character's charm die out, it just totally downplays and degrades the entire series as a whole. Ai is that central. I'm not saying this because I favor her, it's just.. the way she's devised.

it's such a relief this manga's on hiatus till October 24th~ 'v')/ ah.. I can relax.. I can relax. um, probably till this time next week, this comic is oh, it can get super dumb(I'm so sorry aka-san and mengo-san. I don't mean it in a literal sense I'm just TIRED THOUGH). There are so many things I like about it but it stresses me out, I honestly wouldn't be like this if I could not spot anything, but I just SEE these things so clearly and I feel so lonely about it, there is NO WAY it wouldn't go otherwise at least I think so, but it's not my work and the writers aren't me either so I can't be completely sure- it's... painful to wait out and see the characters making dumb choices and making crazy faces, making vague statements that actually result to nothing much and having to wait a week for unanswered questions, every week, I'm not sure if this is supposed be suspense or cliffhangers or what makes the readers want to grab the next episode etc but I've never seen a comic that works so much like a morning kdrama, it's been that way as of lately and it's really wearing me out

oh guys, oh guys don't worry. I never play a game I'd lose. I really need to buy one of those storywriting books- the "how to write" sort of things right. but I; just don't see this going any other way in an ultimate sense. The answers are already out. What I'm unsure is how we'd get there. I could sit back.. and come back after a year like the way I did last time, but I stepped in way too deep and it feels like a sinkhole.. I keep getting afraid if I get anything wrong, oh, I actually feel I can speak.. a little.. when they have breaks like these. otherwise I'd get too nervous to say anything... I can just focus with doing what I enjoy regarding this work without having to worry about just what the heck may come next...

I have like 3-4 ideas I want to draw, I want to get to that before the next chapter drops lol if this comic keeps making me so;; nervous, yeah, I can just rest. I've been pushing so hard~~~~ I'm sure the writers are having so much fun right now and I'm just playing into their hands as a reader because wouldn't it be so nice!! be so fun!! to have people feel things regarding their work! but it's time they start providing us answers now and give this story a good wrap-up. I hope it has like three volumes left at least; I will regret having read this piece if they just drop what that can be perfectly good because, because, I can see this piece getting a really good resolution. They can do it!!! I SEE IT! IT CAN HAPPEN! EVERYTHING CAN MAKE GOOD SENSE AND IT CAN BE GREAT!! AND I think that's what they're going for. I got so many things right about this piece, oh.. I really hope it does go in the way I could be happy I read it.. I got in again because I caught a glimpse of it.

[feraldabi]

Devour Me

Professor Melon (BEASTARS) x College | University Student/Gazelle Reader

‼️ RATING:

Explicit

‼️ TAGS/TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive Reader, Vore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Vore as a Metaphor for Love, Blood and Injury, Blood Licking, Obsession, Explicit Language, Delusions, Delusional Reader, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Reader-Insert, Gender-neutral Reader, You Have Been Warned, College | University Student Reader, Professor Melon (BEASTARS), Haru (BEASTARS) Bashing, Reader Hates Haru (BEASTARS)

‼️ ADDITIONAL WARNING/NOTE: the tags make this look worse than it is lol however, i wanted to cover my bases to be safe. essentially, this is an obsessive reader who asks melon to eat them and he does. if this is not something you would like to read, please, DO NOT READ any further. thank you.

SUMMARY:

It’s selfish, so very selfish. How it is fair that he directed his attention to her—an ugly white dwarf rabbit—when he could have you—a beautiful gazelle!

You and him are meant to be!

@kurapikaka

It’s selfish, so very selfish. How is it fair that he directed his attention to her—an ugly white dwarf rabbit—when he could have you—a beautiful gazelle!

You and him are meant to be!

Maybe the bitch blinded him with her promiscuous rabbit ways!

Yes!

Yes, that has to be it.

There is no other answer!

Because why on God’s green earth would Melon, a gazelle, go after a rabbit! It’s obscene.

Idiotic.

Complete and utter bullshit.

He needs to be reminded, yes, only reminded about what he could have; what he’s missing out on!

If only he would look your way. Ugh! You have done everything and anything to have him look your way in class but to no avail. His eyes would simply glance over you as if you were a mere fly on the wall.

No more! No more of being ignored, neglected, unwanted…unloved. You’re going to take destiny into your own hands.

Melon will be yours.

.

.

.

.

Fuck that white dwarf rabbit. Fuck her—FUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCK—

STOP!

You freeze, a natural full body lockdown due to your nature. You need to breathe, you have to breathe, but you can’t.

You can’t.

Can’t breathe.

Breathe!

With a full body shudder your fist slams into a mirror. You feel yourself come back to yourself.

You’re in the restroom, and you can’t remember how you got there. There’s a stinging sensation from your right hand, and there’s a large cut slashed diagonally across your knuckles.

You breathe.

You focus on the pain, and how you can feel the blood seeping from the cut and drip onto the white-tiled floor. It comes back to you by bits and pieces as you stare into the shattered remains of the mirror before you.

Your own reflection is distorted. Your snout is elongated and when you open your mouth it looks like you have fangs.

Who is that?

You breathe.

Melon. Yes, yes, you were going to confront him—no, discuss why he insists upon ignoring you for that rabbit. You don’t even know her name because why should you. She’s no one compared to you.

Haru, what does she have that you don’t?

Yes! Melon and that rabbit were together in an empty hallway. He had been kneeling down to her with their pinkies interlock. Why were their pinkies interlocked?

The reflection seems to become more monstrous, more predator-like.

He’s going to eat her in a month. You begin laughing historically, smacking the rim of the sink as the laughter racks your body. How novel! A gazelle eating a rabbit!

It must be a joke, a prank! They caught you peaking around the corner and wanted to make you a fool, but they’re the fools! You see right through them and their silly little play.

You stop laughing.

Your hand stings, blood’s dripping and dripping and dripping.

In one blink to the next your outside Melon’s class. The door slides open and you enter with your hands clasped together as you take slow, measured steps to his desk.

“Bum bum badum,” you hum—it’s the tune for a wedding march.

Melon pauses, pen held over papers, “Can I help you?” He glances at you, and you have a full body shiver. He’s never looked at you this long before!

You walk up to him and press a bloody finger upon his pristine, white mask, “You can help me! Only you!” Disregarding personal space, you wiggle yourself onto his lap. You bracket him within your arms, looming over him. “Eat me,” you say.

His blinks. “Excuse me.”

You caress the loop of his mask, teasing it down. Your blood stains his fur.

“I heard your little promise with that rabbit,” the word rabbit rolls off your tongue like it’s poison. “Eat me,” you insist, “I would taste much better! Why go for a measly rabbit when you could have a gazelle. A fellow gazelle!”

You rock forward trying to entice another sort of attention from him.

Big, strong hands stop you; his hands grip your waist and you feel pinpricks stabbing into your sides.

Why are his nails so sharp?

Melon hums, “You want to be eaten?” He digs into the meat of your thighs and, suddenly, you’re facing the ceiling. Now, he looms over you.

You’re trapped.

“Poor thing wants my attention so bad you’ve decided that being devoured is the only way,” he coos. He grabs your injured hand, raptly watches as your blood drips down and lands upon the papers below. “Poor thing,” he says again.

“Please,” you beg. This is everything you’ve always wanted and more. He’s watching you, looking at you! You have all his attention and then some, oh how happy you are. “Eat me, not her!”

He appraises you before leaving you bereft of him. It’s cold. Why is it so cold without him?

You hear the sliding and locking of the door.

Warmth spreads through you because he’s back. Melon’s back and he envelops you with he entire being.

“I suppose I am my mother’s son.”

This confuses you because what does his mother have to do with this? Has she too eaten a gazelle?

“I want you to remember that you asked for this,” he declares, pushing his mask down.

Down it goes and you can’t wait to see his full face. You know it’ll be beautiful, so very beautiful.

Teeth.

Large, sharp teeth greet you.

The hand not being gripped by Melon’s explores those sharp, predator-like teeth.

“How,” you breathe. He’s a gazelle!

He nips the meat of your palm, “I’m a hybrid, the disgusting creation of a gazelle and a leopard.” Melon takes your bloody hand and licks it, smacking his lips after each lick.

He’s tasting you.

“You’re beautiful.”

Melon pauses before he smiles—his teeth are bared and his eyes are closed, a lure.

It works.

Something comes over you. Maybe it’s your instincts, deep ingrained within you knowing death is near because you go lax. Your head lolls on his desk which bares your neck.

Calm.

You feel calm. You’re going to die by being eaten alive, and you’re calm.

At least he’s eating you and not her. He’s eating you, so obviously he wants you and not her. He chose to wait until next month for her, but he’s eating you now.

(Is this what devotion is? You, a mere worshiper, prostrating yourself in front of your god, Melon, hoping for salvation.)

He loves you. (A benevolent god.)

“Thank you for the meal,” you hear before a sharp, searing pain erupts from your neck.

He’s eating you, tasting you. He’s tasting the love and devotion you have for him.

He loves you.

You love him; your blood is going to be inside him, you’ll always be apart of him now. Forever.

You’re fading fast and the last thing you see is Melon looking at you with your blood covering him from his snout down to his shirt. You did that, not her.

But—you reach for him. He doesn’t look happy. Melon’s frowning at you.

NONONONONONONONONONONONO—YOULOVEMEDON’TLOOKATMELIKETHATMELONPLEASEILOVE—

“Bland.”

(A cruel god.)

[suicidalgamergirl]

Emotional Support Vampire

Finally I get our vamp boy to arrive. Credits of this chapter are from this Fan Wiki.

https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Rite_of_Profane_Ascension

*****

“Vaness,” a voice chilled, “the worst a man can get.”

Not this. She did not want this.

She turned around, seeing her parents. They were giving disapproving looks at her.

“We made you go to a great university,” her parents said, “then you wasted it all on your ridiculous doodles in your notebook! You are such a disappointment.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to reason with her parents. But nothing came out from her lips.

She then saw Ken looking at her.

“Dumb ugly bitch,” Ken stated, “too annoying for even a lay.”

She put her hands on her ears, trying to stop the voices.

But they wouldn’t stop. She found herself standing on a stage, confronting an audience that started heckling and hollering at her. Cowering, she still had her ears covered. Why were people like this?!

She was an adult! Their voices should mean nothing! She doesn’t have to listen to them!

“Die,” a voice rang to her as a command.

After hearing that word, the audience started chanting that simple three letter word. 

Die. Die. Die.

Kneeling on the stage, she felt a noose was placed around her neck. Maybe this was going to be how it must end. Everyone was right about her. 

She smelled a fragrance lingering around her as the noose was tightening around her neck.

Bergamot, a sweet lemony bitter orange. 

Rosemary, a herb she used in her cooking class to stuff meats that were going to be cooked. Also used for protection against demons.

And Brandy?

The hell?!

*****

The scent of that strong liquor woke her up. She had tears running down her eyes. She hated having nightmares. They made her feel childish. Made her feel like a failure as an adult. Made her feel that she deserved a pathetic life.

“Gods darling,” a voice said, “you’re finally awake.”

Darling? The minute she heard that, she flung herself out of the bed and fell on the floor.

Trying to get herself together, she stared at her bed. There was a pointy eared, skin as snow, and white haired gentleman with red eyes, looking at her. He is wearing a fancy embroidery outfit that has a set of red dragons across his vest. 

Wait a sec…

Pointy ears, red eyes, and pale skin complexion?

Holy shit! There was a certified vampire in her bed! She wasn’t going to be a juicebox today. She stumbled to get herself up. She didn’t have crosses and rosaries. Nor the occasional garlic. 

But she had one thing that could easily make this intruder meet his match.

The sun.

Heading to the bedroom window, she was finally going to take control of her life. She pulled on the curtains to reveal the glorious beams of the sunlight to fall on her bed. This vampire had finally met his match. He is going to become literal toast.

Nothing happened.

“You know darling,” he mused as he lay on her bed, “you could have been a little more creative with your death threats. Is this honestly how you treat your guests?” 

“Well e-excuse me!” she replied, “It’s not like I expect my guests to lunge at my neck at any minute! Or goes nuts after a simple papercut!” 

“Touche. Though, this is all your fault by the way. You just have to accept the consequences of your actions.”

“My actions? I tried to help…”

She stopped as she was dumbfounded by her words. That albino bat she found. Poor little thing that was being attacked by mean dogs that didn’t know any better. The little bat that was annoyed with her while she was taking care of his wounds. 

She fell on her knees, eyes still wet from her tears. What a dumbass.

“I’m such an idiot,” she said.

“Finally admitting your mistakes is on the path of self improvement,” he replied as he was starting to mock himself as a therapist, “you humans are very stupid at times. It might have been a miracle your species survived a millennium without them blowing the planet up.”

This was going to be a very long and interesting weekend.

[naanima]

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 is honest to the-movie-gods a fucking amazing movie. Visually it is stunning - cinematography, lighting, the use of colours, and visual effects. It is funny, emotional and full of fucking heart.

In general the movie is visually gorgeous - colourful, bright, innovative camera angles, and one fight sequence with the full team is fucking epic. One of the best fight sequences I have ever seen in its cohesiveness while focusing on each character's unique fighting ability and how they compliment one another. It is so fucking beautiful. And the soundtrack! OMFG! THE FUCKING SOUNDTRACK! Perfect and plays such an important part of the movie. Just perfect..

Below is a list of SPOILERS.

Adam Warlock is a space himbo who likes cute-ugly space alien/pets. Loves his mummy & is dumb as a box of rocks. I love how he becomes a full member of the Guardians in mid-credit. He deserves a second chance, and hey with his mummy/parental issues he would fit right in with the Guardians.

Cosmo the space dog getting fired up about being called a "bad dog" by Kraglin, not being able to let it go is one of the funniest running jokes throughout the whole movie. It just really worked for me. Lols.

Gamora & Nebula's growl-grunt as a form of greeting/goodbye/I love yous is fucking amazing. They are such amazing sisters but also killing machines. I love it so very much.

Gamora is fucking amazing in this. She is competent, angry and her own person. She doesn't know Peter or the rest of the Guardians. She isn't their Gamora, she is her own person, and her finding her place with the Ravagers is just so beautiful & glorious. Bcos they fucking love her, and she chose them. They are hers, and she is their's. Her parting line to Peter, "We must have been fun." Was fucking gut wrenching & an acknowledgement that yeah, in another life this Gamora could she herself making a life with Peter. But this isn't that life, she isn't that Gamora, and she found herself a new family.

Nebula being the leader of Knowhere, creating a place for the displaced, the weird & the hurt. Leading & protecting them, wanting children to grow up like she never did. OMFG. Her character development is fucking amazing. The ways she tries & tries to be better than what she was taught to be is just so beautiful.

Drax acknowledged as a great dad, BY NEBULA, the way he connected & talked to the kids. His relationship with Mantis - their pseudo sibling relationship, their genuine love & respect for one another. Just gods Drax was hilarious and so very genuine.

Mantis going off on her own, to discover what she wants to do, to be her own person, with her three giant fucking space creatures of terror. Mantis being angry, honest and so fucking brave.

Rocket!! OMFG! ROCKET!!!! An experiment by a madman, wanting to live in a world with his friends, running to escape the pain & the memories. Rescuing ALL the animals being experimented on, fucking tired of running, choosing not to kill his torturer bcos he chose to be a Guardian. Just fuck, ROCKET. As a side note the way the tortures were depicted in the form of what happened to the animals was utterly horrifying. Floor the rabbit was the stuff of nightmares but she just wanted to play and be with her friend, and it is just so fucking heartbreaking. Animal cruelty is the fucking worst.

And finally Peter. Gods, Peter. How he infected his whole patchwork family with his music, with his need to be with one & another, with his refusal to let any of them die. Finally growing up, ready to face his past instead of running. Taking a break from the Guardians to return to earth to spend time with his grandfather, to confront his past. It is so hard to articulate how much I love Peter Quill, especially in a series of movies where the focus became progressively more evenly spread in the attention they pay to each character. But Peter pulled this group of assholes together and he would die for any of them. His fear & anguish when he thought Rocket had died was heartbreaking.

There is SO MUCH amazing interactions between all the characters - Nebula, Mantis & Drax! Peter & Gamora, Rocket & Peter, Cosmo being called a "bad dog" by Kraglin. Just gods - what a fucking amazing film that wanted to celebrate the fun of a space opera AND to roll around in the feels of found family love, a group of idiots who tell each other they love each other, willing to go to war for each other. A group of idiots who dance in the streets in joy, screaming their feelings. Just fuck. What a wonderful movie.

[berrychanx]

Tokyo Mew Mew New Ep 18 Toughts

Again this episode left me without words, i don’t know how or where to start. Guess I’ll start by saying what i liked the most

Number one gotta be kid Ryou playing scientist in his dad lab. not that the original depection of him was bad but this time I feel like he’s really into science, his father steps, the mew project everything

The original japanese subs said UMA which stands for Unidentified Mysterious Animal

ACTUAL SCIENCE AND UMA DNA LET’S GOOOOOO

From Keiichiro biography card,

this confirms his adoptation into the Shirogane family

The foreshadowing

Ryo’s father acknolodging his a must better scientist and researcher than him

Knowing the burdens Ryou will have if he continues the follow his foosteps

Aoyama nightmares continue, everything is under this blueish grey atmosphere, Darkness and ugly thoughts are consuming his mind

The Chimeras

They appeared cause Ryou was researching UMA? Or where the aliens already stablished on Earth? I hope we get answers to this

They have a gem, so it’s probably they were infused with an alien parasite by either the aliens or whatever Ryou was researching had escaped the lab

Family

Even though the shirogane family interaction with Keiichiro was short, i loved it, somehow I felt like he was a cared for member of their family and because of that the outcome was more emotional.

THANKS GOD, NEW DIDN’T MADE IT LOOK LIKE A SUICIDE LIKE IN THE MANGA OR A RANDOM FIRE STARTING LIKE IN THE ORIGINAL. She tried ... :( Mew Project The rest develops like in the manga and the original with Ryou having memorized everything but this time we get a glimpse into the research

They went to every spot that had the RDA they needed for research, based. We also see this two characters growing

I never about this because how cat Ryou looks in the original,but IS HE SUPPOSED TO BE A BLUE RUSSIAN?

Having Ichigo mention us, the mews, just  confirms what I’ve been saying, he cares for all the same way

A bit of character development on Ichigo side, she’s feeling guilty for the way she treats him, despite him caring for their safety even if its his fault that they’re in this situation, what a loop.

I love that they keep focusing on green enviromental solutions, more care for the enviroment, animals, plants, etc like we’d seen at the end of every TMM volume with WWF, this is the basic idea of TMM.

Nice plot idea for the aliens

It’s still a enemy of the day kinda of plot but with some truth behind its actions I LOVE IT

Can confirm this, I live near a river (Rio Tejo) and since the waters are more clean now every year we get visits from a dolphin family (will share videos later)

Confrontations

More Pie x Lettuce confrontation, YES YES YES, let’s develop this please, I want them to have a debate with each other

Lettuce stepping up, Ryou worried with her safety,, all it took was for her to stand firm in her belives, she was the best Mew for the job and she belives she can handle it then she’ll try no matter what, I know its hard to see but when Ryou’s looking at the red sea we can see a white thing moving, its Lettuce and Masha being swept away, that’s why Ryou says this line

I love how she relied on everyone trusting her to find the courage to keep going.

Preverance wins

The rainbow detail, thanks to the (mew) aqua and being sunny :’)

MVP, and the day is saved

Having the Nlue Knight not wanting Ichigo to fight anymore and only protecting her keeps following like the manga, I’ll share my thoughts when the reveal episode is released, to avoid spoilers for non-manga readers.

I loved Ryou’s reaction, as far as they all know, he can’t be trusted, he might be a manipulative character. Altough..... this leave little space to Ichigo wondering his identidy, because RYOU AND KEIICHIRO ARE RIGHT THERE

<3, Ichigo seeing her teammates are evolving, its so sweet

Aoyama ruining the mood XD but after what he witnessned on TV is normal for him to think that way.

I intreperted Ichigo line to what Aoyama said before, she’s not wondering about her relationship with him she said she’s happy being near him, she’s wondering about the planet’s conditions

This reverts back to episode 1, what can she do to protect the planet

I wonder what kind of approach will TMMN take to make Ichigo mind at ease, will it end with the final Mew Aqua, will it continue and develop to A La Mode? If she decides to follow alongside Aoyama’s dream, I hope they give us  a glimpse into A La Mode story.

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Maintenance On Pride

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

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+ 1 Corinthians 2:5 So that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.

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VERSE OF THE DAY 

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+ 2 Chronicles  26:19  Uzziah, who had a censer in his hand ready to burn incense, became angry. While he was raging at the priests in their presence before the incense altar in the Lord’s temple, leprosy broke out on his forehead.

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM NOT PRIDEFUL 

I AM NOT REBELLIOUS 

I AM IN CONTROL 

GOD IS MY FATHER 

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READ TIME: 8 Minutes & 23 Seconds

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THOUGHTS:

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We must be careful who we yell at or talk ugly to and what we do in the church; I have seen this man on TV. I won't call his name, but he quince the spirit of God moving in the church , and he was out of order. The Holy Spirit moved his hand upon this man's life, and he no longer has a church. We must be careful of offending the Holy Spirit. Sometimes, we think we are being rude to someone and have gotten away with it, but we haven’t; God sees everything, the good and the bad, and he even knows our thoughts. 

  Sometimes, we allow pride to be the very reason why we think we can do things and we can’t, and that’s what happened to Uzziah; if we go back up a couple of verses, we will see that Uzziah was filled with pride verse 16 “after Uzziah became powerful, his pride led to his downfall.” He was unfaithful to the Lord his God, and he entered the temple of the Lord to burn incense on the altar of incense; “

Uzziah became unfaithful to God and lost control, and that’s the first step into any sin, to be honest, when we start thinking we can do what we want and not communicate, not read our word. We are allowing Satan to have a pinhole into our lives, and sometimes this can cause us to allow pride in , and we start to think to our sleeves,” I don’t need God, or I don’t need to pray, and everything is going my way, “and that’s where we lose or fall at, and Uzziah allowed his pride to cause his downfall.

  Verse 17 Azariah, the priest, with eighty other courageous priests of the Lord, followed him in.  They confronted King Uzziah and said, “It is not right for you, Uzziah, to burn incense to the Lord. That is for the priests, the descendants of Aaron, who have been consecrated to burn incense. Leave the sanctuary, for you have been unfaithful, and you will not be honored by the Lord God.”

    Uzziah wasn’t supposed to be in the temple burning incenses . God gave this role to only the high priest, and they burnt twice daily, once in the morning and once in the evening; they did this by entering the holy of holies with a censer. This is the history behind incense burning, so we can better understand why this was wrong for Uzziah. However, let's go back to the main reason for the devotion. 

    Uzziah started to burn incense, and the 80 priests followed him and tried to stop him. They said hey, you can't do this; only the descendants of Aaron were supposed to do this, and he wasn’t part of the descendants of Aaron, and they asked him to leave the temple; they told him, you have been unfaithful, and Uzziah wasn’t listening to his pride and he was out of control sometimes our pride can have us lose control and not only do we not listen to others we don’t listen to God either. 

     Uzziah was so prideful that he didn’t think 

 I can't be here, and this is precisely what people forget when they get into the pulpit; we can't get in the pulpit living anyway and thinking God will allow us to continue to do it. We might get away with we doing that’s wrong outside the pulpit for a while, but God is merciful. He gives everyone time to correct their problem, and when we ignore the Holy Spirit or the unctions, this is what happens. 

  Verse 19 Uzziah, who had a censer ready to burn incense, became angry. While he was raging at the priests in their presence before the incense altar in the Lord’s temple, leprosy broke out on his forehead.

   Uzziah was so angry and full of rage in the temple God that the lord caused leprosy to break out on his forehead. God is going to warn each of us before his hand moves upon our lives; a lot of people don’t believe in the hand of God; they think his hand doesn’t move, but I do; I believe that he gives us so much time and if we don’t heed his voice and if we won’t change his hand will move, but we must change and live a life of holiness. Many people don’t take the church as a holy place anymore because the believers don’t do what thus saith the lord, and many unbelievers believe; why should I be careful when the Christians or believers of God don’t?

   • 1 Peter 4:7 The end of all things is at hand; therefore, be self-controlled and sober-minded for the sake of your prayers.

 •James 1:19-20 Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God

  Self-control plays a significant role in pride; when we are out of control, we don’t see our error, and we become so prideful that we don’t want even to hear God say to us no, those men when we’re trying to stop him because he was unfaithful but because he was so angry and dealing with the spirit of pride and dealing with the spirit of rebellion that he became deaf and so focus on what he wanted. 

   Sometimes, we are like this in our walk with God. God is speaking to us now, asking us to change our ways and release a particular sin, but it becomes harder when we make excuses and refuse to hear, allowing God to speak to us and help us see our ways. 

   ***Today, we talked about pride and how it can blind and make us deaf, and when we are in this state, it’s hard for us to hear God. We can lose our anointing, and we can lose lot by being disobedient to God. Every day, we must go to God and ask God to help us with the hard things, and we must believe he will; it’s hard to change our view on things and to change our ways, but when we tell God this, and we realize our mindset isn’t the mindset he wants us to have we must ask God to renew us and transform us. We do this by grabbing our word and crying out to him. 

    Pride is a hard spirit to break, and it starts with the mindset of saying I can do this without God or that my life is going so great that I don’t need to do the regular maintenance, which is read our word, pray and worship, just like regular maintenance keep our car running it’s the same way those activities help keep our relationship with God stable and running the way it should.

    If we stop doing the activities , we will slowly have issues. Don’t allow pride to stop you from praying; don’t allow anger to block you from worshipping. Pride will always have us where we are looking at ourselves and not looking at God; pride will always have us stuck and not focusing on God. The spirit of pride caused Lucifer to fall; what do you think this spirit will do to us if we allow it in, allow God in to tune your heart, ears, and eyes to him? ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father, thank you for today, Father. We ask you to maintain our lives, show us which way to go, and remove anger and bitterness from us right now. Lord, we love you so much, and we thank you for your grace and mercy, Father; if we are deaf to your voice, please help us hear; if we are blind to your ways, please let us see we give you every part of our selves right now in Jesus Name Amen.

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REFERENCES 

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+ Romans 8:13 For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.

 

+ Proverbs 11:2: When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom.

 

+ Proverbs 8:13 The fear of the Lord is hatred of evil: pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate.

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FURTHER READINGS 

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Proverbs 21

Leviticus 21 

Genesis 8

SOS 7

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[kaiaaira]

Everyone Exists Somewhere

Everyone has somewhere where they belong although it’s different for all

whether its where they’re born or where they landed after the fall

I fell once a long time ago and the scars are almost healed

My childhood altruism earned me hard-learned lessons I can now yield

I am the morning star, for thousands of years lost souls have used me for guidance

When they are lost or scared, they turn to me in chaos’s wild cadence

I am the original fallen one, I’ve made every mistake you could dream up

My sister ate the apple, following her example, I drank from the poisoned cup

It made me question things I had once blindly believed

It made me wonder about all the little things that had gone unperceived

What was truly good and what was abhorrently bad?

Why had I never once questioned the teachings of my dad?

How could he stand on a pulpit and preach of love winning over hate

only to turn around and let his congregations dole out cruelty on a silver plate?

How could people believe in a ‘loving god’ and yet misinterpret him so?

And how could he let them pollute his world? he could have helped them grow

I confronted him, he refuted my questions with a temper of fire

And I finally saw him for who he was, a coward steeped in ire

He admonished me, mutilated me, banished me, tried to destroy me

His disappointment burned, but even without my wings I had never felt so free

But that freedom didn’t last and I sunk into the darkness, languishing in my shame

I thought I would never be able to show my face again, never escape my families blame

I stayed in the cocoon of darkness for a time that felt like centuries

Until i finally escaped my self-incarceration, broke out of the penitentiary

I found my way to this here clearing, where you stand before me today

This is the meadow between the worlds, a place where the ancient trees sway

With an unseen wind that can’t be felt upon your skin

Here I rebuilt the life of mine that was stolen, I let go of who I had been

The first person to come thought these woods was a girl a few years younger than you

She’d been disowned and abandoned, she didn’t know what else to do

She lost all sense of hope and fell victim to the same void as I

Her name was that of a flower that only blooms in July

Dahlia stayed here a short while, but in that time she taught me a great deal

After she left, I realized that she’d forced a chamber of my necrotized heart to heal

I found that I was no longer alone, there were others with stories just like mine

I knew what I had to do, save those who had suffered at the hands of the divine

So like a glowing sword lighting up the darkness of existence

I summon lost souls to my side, no matter the distance

I kneel beside them, offering whatever comfort they allow

And then I bequeath to them the same bits of wisdom I give to you now

Everyone exists somewhere, although it may not be where you’re from

Everyone exists for a reason, they have something amazing to become

Everyone matters to someone, they just haven’t seen it yet

Everyone has a destiny, You’ll have an amazing future don’t you fret

Dreams have a habit of changing and wishes mutating into something ugly and gnarled

It’s not your fault for chasing them and becoming ensnarled

Knotted like the trunk of the tree of knowledge, twisting like it’s roots

Existence is riddled with choices, different pathways always popping up like chutes

You, lost soul, may stay here in the meadow as long as you’d like

Learn all you need to know to take another enthusiastic stab at life

When you leave my child, like all my guests must

Just remember, everyone exists somewhere and you are made of stardust

By K.G. McGaughey

[xliketoread]

On some days, I wish to be you, rather than be yours. (angst)

_12:46am

Your boyfriend is endearing. and you could stop yourself from looking at him with heart in your eyes.

You love how he enjoys doing his job, living his best life with people cheering and hoping every best things will happen to him. Oh, to be adored like that, it must be great. But deep down you know how his job could exhaust him, drain strength from his veins and bones, and drown him in the fear of being abandoned. But it's okay, when that time comes you will be there, his family will be there, his friends will be there, and his fans too.

You feel ugly thinking about your boyfriend like this, but gosh how could you help it? You are somewhat jealous of his life. You know you shouldn't, at the same time, your selfish feeling blends in well with your love for him. You use it as a motivation when you are feeling down or hopeless with life.

But not now...

Not when your heart bleeds as those wounds start to open again. You were right about one of those things you have in mind for months after dating Yeonjun for more than two years. His longing eyes, his warm touches, and his heart are not yours anymore. While your heart is still there, beating weakly and slowly dying with desperation. You got nothing left.

Heavy tears fill your eyes as you stroke his hair while he lies on the table, passing out from alcohol. God, he looks so beautiful, your eyes can't seem to move away from him. You make a wild guess, you are looking at him like that again. Like how you once saw it through Soobin's camera, like how in your eyes, he was the only person in this world that matters, the other parts of the world aren't.

Feeling a pat on your shoulder, you turn around to see Beomgyu looking at you "What's up, Beomgyu?" you smile, Beomgyu could see your glossy eyes shining under the street light.

"You okay?" his voice is quiet, you could feel him trying his best to gently approach this whole thing.

"Not as good as normal days. You? Have you been feeling well lately?"

His heart aches for you honestly. You always like this, blooming like those beautiful flowers in the wild, so strong and brave like warriors.

"y/n... I know hyung treats you badly... and i don't know if i ... should be the one who says this...but"

He shakily inhales, pushing his tears back "I'm sorry, god, i'm sorry."

You look down, watching the dirt on the ground get covered up by snow, today is cold too. Colder when the fire in your heart wasn't there...

"Why should you said that, Beomgyu? None of this is your fault, and... I didn't confront him with that...well....yet"

"So don't feel bad okay? You are just his friend, you can't control his feeling, Beomgyu. If we fell apart then we fell apart, that is what it is." You laugh at how you still try to cover Yeonjun in front of his friend.

"But thanks. You are such a sweet boy, Beomgyu."

---

As suffocating as it can get, the dorm fills with silence and ... regret. You didn't do this on purpose but magically, you have chosen the day when Yeonjun and the rest of the group have a clear schedule, which means they are free and wandering around the dorm to get through the day.

"What?" confusion placed on Yeonjun's voice as his eyebrows crunch up. "what are you talking about?"

You lay your head on your hand, watching his reaction as you repeat those words again "I want you to be honest with me, Choi Yeonjun. How long have you been cheating on me with her?" He flinches at how you call his full name, cold and disappointed.

"Who are you talking about? There is no her, it is always only you." There you go again. His reassuring words, his kind voice. However, those have spines, and they sting you badly.

Your hands cover your face. Your emotions bust out like a volcano, swallowing you whole. He sits there, silent and stiff. A sight of the guilty and his victim.

"Y/n... please I'm sorry, i let myself go and destroy what we have"

The silence filling the dorm now is replaced with your devastated sobs, his apologies. "Please don't cry, my y/n. Please... i will do anything to make it up to you... please" his hands cup your face, trying to kiss your tears away.

"How could you?" You are only able to get that out of your mouth before going back to crying again. Yeonjun holds you tightly, you can feel his tears too, as they wet your neck, his breaths remain unstable as long as your tears fall.

Now you lay on your side as his hands wrapped around your waist, refusing to let you go and fearing that you might disappear from him, from his life.

"Please don't leave me, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry. Don't leave me, please. i'm sorry..." Your heart is heavy, his pleadings and desperation remind you of yourself, but yours were silent, was a secret you hid behind your walls.

"Don't you remember once i told you, Yeonjun? I said that i want to be you instead of being yours on some days...." You whisper in the night.

"Yeah.." he answers.

"Being a woman means having the power to love someone, but Yeonjun ah, being a man means being able to feel that love. That beautiful emotion, did you enjoy being loved by me too?"

He only hugs you tighter as your words sink into his brain. He starts to cry again. At this point, he doesn't know what to do to prevent you from leaving anymore.

The red thread between you and him was cut, and he was the one who did it.

.lu