#i feel. genuinely vile and bad and sorrowful

[our-inspire-verse]

Just keeps going round and round eh?

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[ficbrish]

WIP Wednesday

[10Jan2024]

This is from a one shot that's part of my Kinktober collection

"Enough"

Early Act III in the Rivington camp

[tw/cw - Cptsd, breakdown, past SA, light spice. Still writing, so this snippet ends mid-angst]

A kiss should be enough. How could it not be when the person at the end of it was? A kiss; the most precious thing, but dangerous. Tempting. Confusing. Messy. Even more so when they were alone, away from the others. Maybe closing the door to the barn had been a bad idea…

“Astarion?” Vistri panted, pulling away.

“Mmmm, yes? What is it?”

She looked at him with wide eyes. Her body trembled against his.

“Um,” the conflict inside her made it hard to articulate, “Should we—?”

“Slow down?”

She grinned awkwardly, more a grimace, “Yeah.”

He sighed, then breathed deep to steady his heart, “Right. Quite Right…”

“Is that…?”

A visible wave of relief washed over him, and he kissed her forehead with all the warmth in his heart, “It’s okay. Thank you! Don’t fret. Thank you.”

Instead of pushing her away, Astarion held her tighter. Vistri didn’t believe it, even as it was happening. She wasn’t someone others held without payment. No matter how many times they repeated this new pattern together, it never fully set in. Surely, it was just a dream. All dreams slipped away, that was just their nature.

She shut her eyes tight, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, dear.”

“…Okay.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Okay.”

The hand reaching for her cheek terrified her in a way that fangs at her throat never had. Reflexively, she planted her face in his palm, nuzzled into it. The hesitation inside her was loud, but it was no match for the tenderness of his touch. Confusing. Messy.

Astarion chuckled, “Just look at how we’ve grown.”

She laughed too because it was something to do.

“Are you all right? You’re not here.”

Vistri felt like a bug with its rock lifted up as he searched her eyes. She couldn’t hide. He was staring right at her.

“Hello!” he said with a little wave.

“Hi.”

“There you are, love. I’ve missed you.”

His expression was kind enough for her to say, “I didn’t mean to go away.”

“It happens,” he shrugged, and stroked her hair.

She couldn’t help her bitterness, “I hate that it happens.”

Anger. That’s what took over when her heart started to beat again. Once Vistri let the world in, she shriveled from so much rage. She hated her brokenness. She hated herself for being fucked up. Hated the reason for it, and the people who let it happen. She looked at Astarion and felt sorrow for his brokenness; grief for the way he was fucked up. She hated the reason for it, and the people who let it happen. Despised the cycle he was caught up in.

Gods, she was so angry.

She groaned and burrowed into his tunic like a creature hiding away from the threats of the world.

“That’s the thing, love, it doesn’t really matter how we feel about it. It’s just there. At least it happens to the both of us. We can face it together, just like any cult.”

He felt the warmth of her chuckle through his shirt.

“Why couldn’t the tadpoles be our only problem?”

Astarion sighed, “To be fair, if it were, we’d probably have been made mind flayers long before finding each other. No cult, no special tadpoles. Now that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll have to give you that,” she smiled, “It’s all worth it if it led to you.”

“How uncharacteristically genuine of us,” he smirked.

“It’s quite sickening, really.”

He laughed heartily, “Disgusting! Vile!”

“Wretched! Absolutely wretched!”

Laughing was another thing that made everything complicated. Dangerous. Laughter weakened their bodies and knocked them to the ground, leaving them panting in each other’s arms. Vistri’s stomach flipped and surrendered under the weight of him. Bliss between lovers longed to be a feast. Hearts in flight felt entitled to all skies. She wouldn’t stop him this time.

Astarion usually didn’t care about himself or anyone else, but when he looked in her eyes and found the responsibility for two souls, he wanted to rise to the occasion.

“Problem is, I’ve already risen,” he muttered to himself.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Pay me no mind.”

“I’m trying to. It’s very hard, you see.”

“It is,” he smirked.

“Yes, I know. I’m very aware. That’s part of the problem.”

He ground his hips into her, “A rather sizable problem.”

She squirmed and called out his name like it was a prayer, “Astarion…”

Tongue at her neck, he groaned, “How naughty we’re being.”

“Arsehole…” she panted, throwing her head back.

Running their hands along each other was no salve, it only fed the obsessive ache. Like wildfire, it spread around them, threatening everything living.

Astarion regretfully tore himself off her, “No. Yes, You’re right. Quite right.”

The room spun. It spun. It spun. Clinging to each other was the problem, but that’s all they knew to do. Their limitations made them feel base and hollow. Their only comfort was feeling it together, hand in hand.

“Is it bad that we…?” Vistri asked.

“That we what?”

Her tight grip on his fingers felt suddenly breakable. She looked at the floor, like she was trying to count the hay.

“That we get carried away. From time to time.”

“I-…” he thought for a moment, “I don’t think so. Do you think so?”

She was shaking, just a little. Astarion could tell by her hands.

“What if I fuck it all up?”

He saw the look in her eyes that meant tonight was her turn to fall apart. Immediately, he blamed himself, kicking himself for having fucked it all up.

“You won’t, love,” he said in his most reassuring tone. He couldn’t wrap his arms around her just yet, that’s not where she was at the moment. The rain was just beginning to fall; the rest of the storm was on its way.

She shook, “I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“All right, but I did.”

“But I wouldn’ve! Because…” she bit her lip, as if that could hold it all back.

“Because what, my dear?”

And finally, it burst, “Because I’m nothing!”

It was going to be one of those ugly nights, the boogeyman under the bed having come to visit. She wouldn’t be in control of how it spilled out of her once it was gone from the realm of performance. Her muscles would twist in unflattering ways. Her tone would grow shrill and base, even haggish. Unaware of herself at every moment, part of her would hoard every detail, preserving collected bits of shame to pelt herself with in the morning. The things she said, and how she said them, would embarrass her to the point of pain and ring in her ears for the next few days. Astarion knew it well, having had many of those same nights himself. He’d be there for Vistri just as she was for him.

“Oh, my love, you’re not nothing.”

“But I am!” she shrieked, “Can’t you see that I am!?”

He shook his head sadly, “I can’t give you that. I don’t see it.”

She wept on her knees, rocking back and forth on her toes. Astarion sat next to her and watched, waiting for it to finish pouring out of her.

“I’m a slut,” she cried, “You don-you don-you don’t even pay sluts! They just let you ha-have it!”

Fuck it! He couldn’t stay away. Something worse than usual sat on her heart and broke it. She couldn’t even breathe; she was choking on her own attempts. Astarion rushed to her, kneeling, and gathered her into his arms. His hands grabbed desperately at her face as he tried to catch her eye.

His voice was trembling, begging, “Come back to me, please. Come back to me.”

Vistri was somewhere else, spiraling fast into the hells. Her eyes didn’t recognize him even as they stared directly into his. She knew someone was touching her. She could see that someone was very upset. She just didn’t know what any of that had to do with her.

“Vistri, please! Darling, please!”

Knees on a stone floor in the black dark. Begging.

“Look at me. Come back.”

Begging for absolution. His voice creeping up her back.

“Look at me!”

“I can’t!” she sobbed, eyes shut tight, “I can’t! Enough! I can’t!”

“All right,” he soothed, completely calm again from the moment she spoke, “All right.”

[116t98]

Oh absolutely @benkaaoi

Genuinely, media literacy should be a mandatory course in schools

So many people nowadays either can’t or refuse to engage with media in intelligent ways and it’s not only annoying, it’s actually making people dumber

An example of this was when Glass Onion dropped. It was so frustrating and disappointing to see some people online look at that film and genuinely say “movie bad bc villain is too obvious and his plan’s dumb” when that’s literally the whole point of the movie; it’s a commentary of how billionaire assholes are the stupidest and most vile people on the planet yet they gaslight everyone into believing they’re geniuses bc they’re powerful, rich and “successful”, so they obviously must know what they’re talking about /s. Why try framing Mile as the murder in the same intelligent and complicated way they did for Ransom when Miles is neither of those things? A stupid and obvious murder mystery for a stupid and obvious murderer feels appropriate. Glass Onion isn’t trying to subvert expectations or be a Knives Out replica, it’s telling it’s own story that’s very easy to understand, and fun to analyze, if you actually try to intellectually engage with the film

“What was even the point of Miles having the Mona Lisa? Couldn’t he have had any other painting?” He’s a rich, entitled narcissist who likes flexing his wealth and influence, and temporarily owning a priceless piece of art exemplifies that

“Why did he include a retractable panel in the painting’s display case? That’s so stupid” Exactly; his stupidity, vanity and overconfidence led him to believe he can do whatever he wants (like disregarding proper safety precautions for displaying priceless art) without consequences

“He’s an unrealistic character bc he’s so cartoonishly evil, real people aren’t like that” Have you been paying attention to anything Elon’s done to Twitter? Do you not remember those rich dudes (and that poor young man) who died in that shitty submarine bc of their (and the company’s) hubris?

“Why didn’t Miles just burn the napkin when he got it?” He’s dumb, that’s why

I bet those people didn’t even realize that Andi’s death was foreshadowed as early as Helen’s first scene as “Andi”; Helen’s hair part was on the wrong side, and the dress she initially wore was predominantly white dress with a red section over the left side of her chest, while her finale outfit was all white with the red hot sauce (used to trick everyone into thinking she was shot to death) over the left side of her chest. I’m almost certain they didn’t understand the symbolism of the ouroboros art Andi had in her apartment, the mythological significance of Andi and Helen’s names that helped foreshadow their respective paths in the film, or that the Among Us bit wasn’t just a “haha amogus” joke, but rather foreshadowing for Helen/Andi being the Imposter in White among the shitheads, as well as the whole reason why it took Benoit so long to figure out Miles was the killer

Nothing in this movie happened by accident; every choice that was made (the shot competitions, the set design, the costuming, the dialogue, the symbolism, etc.) was deliberate and meaningful

This ofc applies to countless other pieces of various media, whether it’s relatively recent or centuries old, so the fact that media literacy is so uncommon to the point of nonexistence is ridiculous

Sometimes the curtains are blue bc the artist wanted to convey the character’s depression or sorrow without words. Sometimes the curtains are blue simply bc the artist wanted the curtains to be blue. Both interpretations are valid, and maybe one of them was the artist’s actual intention, but you won’t understand why the choice was made at all if you don’t bother to think about it

It’s really not that hard

not everyone has the same education experience as you, critical thinking about media is hard

when spongebob picks up his jelly fishing net and goes outside, what do u think he is about to do?

[queen-pudi]

Good Decisions

SEQUEL TO BAD DECISIONS

Kei Tsukishima x female reader

Angst to the 1000th degree

18+ MINORS DNI

TW: use of the words whore and slut, brief mentions of having sex, cheating, sort of alluding ti depression and just overall really bad image of yourself. Not throughly edited but grammarly said this is fine and i trust her with my life😫will be edited when its not 7 am and i have gotten sleep💛 Masterlist

After that moment you spent days thinking about his words. You knew that he said them just to get a rise out of you yet like every time before you fell for it. You spent hours on end, angered until that anger turned into hurt and that hurt eventually turned into sorrow. How could you be so pathetic? You turned into someone you couldn't even recognize and you don't even know if you could go back to how you once were. You want to stop You need to stop Yet, every time you get 1 step closer to making a good decision he is there to push you back. Every phone call, every late-night visit, every temporary high from the feeling you get when he fucks you keeps you from pushing back. It was maddening yet so addicting. You were addicted to not online him and what he gives you in those moments but also to the despair and hurt you felt after. The way you felt so worthless after each cold embrace felt good after a while. It felt like a punishment. Like you deserved to feel this way after what you had done. To be fucked and used so much that you are left as nothing less than a common whore and a shell of yourself. To have all worth stripped from you. It was scary to think that you were content with this for so long. What's worse is that you didn't even know when or how it would all stop. Maybe he'd call it off after he found someone new, or maybe his girlfriend would come in and catch you both in the act as she stared at you with a venomous glare. You were just waiting for the day when the cycle would break. And finally, it did While walking home you walked past the park, staring at all the people enjoying their lives before continuing on. Until a couple caught your eye. Tsukishima and his girlfriend. You'd seen photos of her when looking through Tsukki's phone but to see her in person felt all too real. She was beautiful. She looked kind. Most of all she looked happy. She was completely head over heels for this man and it made you sick. Worst of all is that Tsukishima was happy too. He was actually smiling, a genuine one, unlike the fake and sarcastic ones he has given you. Even going as far as to hold her and kiss her in public even though he despises PDA. He was in love and it broke you. At that moment you felt vile. You felt disgusting all over like you had just been rolling in the trash. You couldn't believe this was the same man who comes into your house to get his dick wet and leave the moment he alone is satisfied. What's worse is that seeing her, seeing how sweet and precious she was had you puking. You were fucking the love of her life and she had no idea. And you were ok with this for so long. You dug your head out of the trashcan and wiped your mouth, tears stinging your eyes as you looked up at them one last time. This time however he saw you. You saw his face flicker with surprise before settling into that damn smirk that used to have your stomach swirling with excitement. He grabbed her chin as he lifted her lips up to meet his in a slow yet passionate kiss, eyes closing for a second before opening up to stare back at you, challenging you to do something. He was stringing the both of you around like fucking puppets for his sick entertainment. Both of you are stuck on the strings yet both never see a reason to become free. Until now. A while back you had found her number, you spent nights staring at it, contemplating if you should make the call. Always deciding not to as you were too scared to cut your time with him short. Back when you believed her cared for you. You scoff at how pitiful you had been. You owed it to her to show her just how perfect he was. These texts were the last thing you had that felt like he actually wanted you. That he needed you. Reading them back you realized how methodical and planned out every response was from him. It's only fair she realizes it too. You knew nothing good would come out of this for you yet you couldn't live in this torturous routine forever. You kept saying to yourself that you were doing this for her but you knew that it was all an effort to make

yourself feel better and to rid yourself of this guilt and shame you had. It was selfish but for once you felt like you made a good decision.

HELLO!!! I hope you all enjoyed this!! I originally wasn't gonna make a part 2 but then i got a few asks about it and then i still wasn't going to but then at the last minute i was hit with an idea and i wanted to see it through. I promise i will be back to edit and fix what i need to💛

Big thanks to the Anon and to @callmeraider for the asks!💛 Even though this might not be what you guys wanted i hope this still is ok as this is sorta the only ending i felt was right and im sorry😭

HAVE A GREAT DAY AND I LOVE YOU ALL🗣💛✨

[kiki-shortsnout]

21. Listening to someone's heartbeat? From the intimacy prompts, With Loki/Tony, please? 💜

I could've written a whole story with this prompt! As it is I struggled to keep this near 2,000 words! Thank you for the prompt!

~~~~

Where is this place? What is this place? Loki asked himself for about the millionth time, glancing around the room and trying not to fidget on the hard-backed chair he was sat on. He stretched his neck from side to side, trying to relieve the irritating itch he felt from the collar chafing his neck.

He’d suffered through worse. He could endure this.

‘If looks could kill,’ Mobius mocked.

‘What do you want from me?’

‘Well, let’s start with a little cooperation.’

This man knew nothing about him, and Loki had already formulated a plan about how he was going to escape from here, possibly killing him in the process. However, that plan began to unravel the more they spoke, this TVA agent able to strip back every façade, every mask that Loki had constructed around himself.

Only one other person had been able to do that, strip Loki bare and see his vulnerable, true self beneath.

And that man was currently shining on the wall that was playing the movie of Loki’s life.

Loki didn’t react at seeing Anthony again, didn’t give away what they were to each other, feeling himself seethe as an image of them kissing after a battle was revealed.

His greatest secret.

‘A secret Avenger lover! How did you guys manage to hide that? I don’t know which is worse, a hero falling in love with the bad guy who murdered his people…’

Loki clenched his teeth, refusing to speak. It was no one’s business about how he and Anthony had gotten together, what drew them together in the first place. He knew what Mobius was trying to do, but it wasn’t going to work. He was going to escape, find the Tesseract, and convince Anthony for once and for all that they needed to leave their worlds behind.

‘Or the man who fell in love with the enemy, giving up his mission for glorious purpose because of a pair of pretty doe eyes.’

Pushing himself up and away from his chair, Loki paced the room, mind trying to think of a way out of this, to protect Anthony, find a way back to him while eliminating whatever threat this was to them both. If the TVA knew about the relationship, something Anthony had taken great pains to hide, then Loki needed to eliminate this threat.

‘What exactly is it that you want?’

‘I want you to be honest about why you do what you do,’ Mobius answered, still calm despite Loki’s growing agitation.

‘Liar!’ Loki called him out.

Even as Mobius gave a passionate speech back, something about wanting to understand him, Loki paid him no attention, gazing at the hideous orange panels on the wall, feeling the squeeze of the collar on his neck.

‘What makes Loki tick?’

The man reached out and tapped the orange ball on his desk, revealing more moments of Loki’s life, the invasion of New York, his shame, his weakness that he’d nearly harmed the one he…cared about in some misguided quest for glory, his true intentions warped by the Scepter.

He needed to get back to Anthony, to explain it hadn’t been him, that he had been beholden to some trick.

That he wasn’t the monster Anthony had needed to stop, led away by Thor in chains and a muzzle until an opportunity presented itself. Loki was forced to witness his shame again from an outsider’s perspective, the haze of blue in his eyes as he’d forced the Midgardians to bow before him.

Had Anthony known that wasn’t him, that he had been controlled? Why hadn’t Thor seen it?

‘I was... I am on the verge of acquiring everything I am owed, and when I do, it'll be because I did it. Not because it was supposed to happen, or because you or the Time Variance Authority, or whatever it is you call yourselves, allowed me to.’

That wasn’t quite the truth, what Loki truly wanted mingling with the aftereffects of the Mind Stone’s influence, his impatience to get back to Anthony and set things right overriding his rational mind.

Please don’t allow this to change your feelings for me. Please, beloved, please realize it was not me who acted.

‘Honestly, you're pathetic.’ Who was Loki speaking to, the TVA agent before him, or himself?

‘You're an irrelevance. A detour. A footnote to my ascent."

‘If you hadn't picked up the Tesseract, you would've been taken to a cell on Asgard.’

What sorcery is this?

‘What is this? This is nonsense, more tricks. This never even happened.’

‘Not to you, not yet. Look, the TVA doesn't just know your whole past, we know your whole life, how it's all meant to be. Think of it as comforting.’

All his thoughts, his arrogance, his plotting fled as he watched his mother die. For the first time in his life, he was speechless, his desperation making him babble.

‘Where is she?’

‘You lead them right to her,’ the man said, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

‘I don’t believe you. You’re lying. It’s not true.’

He couldn’t be responsible. This was a trick, it had to be a trick.

‘It is true. That's the proper flow of time and it happens again and again and again because it's supposed to, because it has to. The TVA makes sure of it.’

‘Where is she?’ Loki demanded.

What if they have Anthony locked up in his place too? What tricks are they playing on him?

‘Now why don't you tell me, do you enjoy hurting people?’ The man asked again, his voice increasing in volume, making Loki feel as though his chest was being squeezed with overwhelming pressure.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Loki paced in agitation.

‘Do you enjoy killing?’

‘I'll kill you,’ the words were hollow, and they both knew it.

‘Like you did your mother? Like how you attempted to kill Thanos and left your lover alone to sacrifice himself?’

His rage that had been steadily building the whole conversation suddenly dissipated, leaving him lightheaded at the swing between the two emotions, a cold fear now scrabbling up his throat, chasing away the burn of his anger.

‘What happened to Anthony?’

‘Who?’

‘Anthony! Tony Stark! What happens to him?’

‘Does it matter? I mean I know he was your secret lover, but he was an Avenger, an obstacle in your-’

‘Tell me!’ Loki screamed, feeling the furious tears burning his eyes, the onslaught of his emotions frightening him.

He’d shown his hand, exposed his feelings for the two he cherished. Loki had known this would happen, that emotions would make him fragile, defenseless. Now he had no way of saving either and had given the TVA what they needed to blackmail him.

‘You care for him that much?’ All the bluster and posturing from Mobius was gone, a genuine curiosity in his face as he watched Loki.

‘I love him,’ Loki admitted, words he’d never uttered to anyone, not even Anthony. ‘Please, I know you have no reason to trust me, that I’m everything you say I am, but please, let me see what happens to him.’

Sighing, Mobius reached into his pocket and pulled out a separate tape, revealing he held it all along. ‘Here…he was a great man, your Tony Stark. I’ve watched how you interact with everyone around you, your enemies, and the ones you pretended not to care for… it was hard not to be moved by Tony Stark.’

Loki wasn’t listening, trying to fumble with the machine, almost snapping his teeth at Mobius when he reached over to take the recording from him and set it up in the machine. He watched the film, waiting for the moment where Anthony’s life had twinned with his own, when Thor had first been banished and Loki had faced the man of iron for the first time.

Their secret meetings Loki initiated because he’d been intrigued by this morally gray Midgardian, their first kiss, their first tumble into bed. Loki treasured those moments, and now they felt tainted with Mobius’s scrutiny, his gaze leaving grubby fingerprints over their memories.

There were other moments, a future Loki still had to discover. The moment Loki finally confessed his feelings, the heartbreak of betrayal Anthony felt from Captain America (Loki threw the chair across the room at that). He watched as the Hulk creature passed on news of Loki’s death, the way Anthony’s sorrow hardened and was reborn as fury, the catalyst for why he launched himself into space after Thanos’s minions.

And then the end, the blaze of glory, standing alone and proud against the Titan, his beautiful mind destroyed under the effects of the Infinity Stones. Loki couldn’t breathe, his chest trying to move in short sharp pants, his teeth gritted against the pain.

No. Not like this.

He couldn’t see past the agony, couldn’t keep his heart beating with the vile poison of the truth. He could feel a hand on his back, a voice trying to call to him.

‘Please, let me go to him,’

‘Loki, I can’t-’

‘Please. You’ve brought me here for a reason. Whatever it is you want from me, I’ll do it without question. I won’t escape. I won’t betray you, whatever it is you want, but please…’ Loki trailed off, unable to speak past the emotions webbing in his throat.

‘In all my studies of you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you beg, not sincerely anyway.’

‘You know my…my love for him to be true, that I would not jest about this. Please, Mobius, you have my word, my vow, just please… let me see him.’

‘Ten minutes, that’s all you get. No messing around with the timeline, no giving cryptic warnings. You do anything to divert the timeline Stark is in and I’ll send in a team to prune him and the branch you’ve created, understand?’

Loki didn’t know what pruning meant, but he made an educated guess it had to do with those glow sticks the TVA agents wore and the way they disintegrated the people they stabbed them with.

Nodding, he offered up his hands in a silent plea, sniffing back the tears. Mobius reached out to clasp his hands for a moment, before pointing towards a glowing doorway in the room.

‘Ten minutes and then I’m pulling you out.’

Anthony was asleep in his bed when Loki stepped through, and he rushed over to his bedside, crashing down to his knees as a wounded sound spilt from his lips.

‘You foolish, idiotic mortal, what were you thinking!’ he hissed, the words barely forming sound, not wanting to wake Anthony up or inadvertently cause his destruction. ‘I knew your self-righteousness would be the end of you, that you’d sacrifice yourself in some heroic deed.’ Loki brushed Anthony’s bangs back, leaning forward to press their foreheads together, trying to keep his tears at bay.

He glanced around the room, recognizing it as Anthony’s house in Malibu, no sight of the Avenger Tower. This had to be before New York, before his carnage of Anthony’s homeworld.

‘Lo?’ Anthony suddenly whispered, voice thick with sleep, hands sliding from the bed covers to reach for him. ‘You said…busy…’ he yawned, not entirely awake.

‘I know, dear one, but I made time.’ Loki slid into the bed beside him, taking care to rearrange himself so he could curl around Anthony, protecting him while trying to keep him asleep. He rested his ear directly over the arc reactor, his hand on Anthony’s chest. He could hear the thrum of energy beneath his ear, felt reassured by its continuous sound, knowing it was keeping his mortal alive.

He could feel Anthony’s heartbeat under his palm, never as strong as he liked it, but reassuring enough that Tony was here and alive.

‘I’m sorry. By the Norns, Anthony I am sorry.’

Anthony shifted in his sleep, hugging Loki close and kissing the top of his head.

‘Bad dream, honey?’ he whispered, still sleepy, but trying to comfort him.

‘Something like that. Go back to sleep, darling,’ Loki soothed, hiding the pain in his voice.

He knew what he’d promised Mobius, and his promise to help him stood, but Loki knew he’d twist the intentions of his help to suit his own purposes. He’d find a way to meet these Time-Keepers and bend them to his will. He wasn’t going to lose Anthony to Thanos, would save him from his fate and be together like they deserved.

For now, Loki focused on the sound of his heartbeat, the reassurance he was alive, committing the sound to memory for the next eight minutes.

[driftmarksnake]

@fallesto

Never before did he feel so alone.

This was a traffic thing to endure, and he felt as if, all had left him to deal with it himself. That the queen and prince both, where only dead and the conversation had twisted and turned, to the line of succession. He had never before in all of his life, felt so insulted. The council might as well have stood up and struck him over the face several times over. His boy was dead and they were more concerned about what was … going to happen to all of them, with his brother being the only heir left that he had. It was moments like this, that he forgets. The moment he had the crown placed upon his head, everything had changed for him. people looked and spoke to him differently, the man with him, had been a friend … long before he held any true power, even as prince, he had called this man, a close and personal friend. Even when his father was still alive, he was so far down the line of succession, no one ever expected him to sit upon the throne.

The usage of his name, with lack of titles, did not go unnoticed, but a smile did dance upon his lips, that this was a rare conversation, between old friends.

No titles here he felt as he would sit down on the other side of him before the fire. He admired him, truly. The lord of the tides, all that wealth, all that power, the largest fleet the world ever knew and he was not tainted nor corrupted. A great many other men would have drowned with such power, it was good to see another man, such as himself that understood, power and how to use it, wisely.  “I must admit, the thought has been on my mind, to retire from here, take a leave and try and heal my wound.” That of the heart, would need time. There was nothing anyone could do here. things would run smoothly with Otto Hightower sitting on the throne for a handful of months surely. Otto knew, grief as well, a friend the same as Corlys, and a close one as well. “Others have made, such offers, but yours is the only one that I feel is genuine.” The rest, only wished to have the claim, that the king himself at graced their halls and castle something to use he felt, to rise their house standing even higher, but he was foolish to think.

That the small council would ever let him leave now, he was needed here, especially now with his brother having been sent on his way. Heir for a day. such a slight and insult, had only made him feel, worse. A king with no heir in sight, no sons and a brother he could no longer trust.

Still it was warming to know, the lord before him was not going to slither away, that … he wished to be here, not because there was anything to gain, though for others, now would be the best time to strike the king when he was sorrow and attach their strings to him. he had to … place his trust in the right people, now that … he was truly a dragon on his own here. “Then let us drink to the past, and to perhaps, better time for us both.” As he took a sip of the wine, he remembered the sea, that castle, when he was a youth, with his cousin running along the shore, good times, better times than this.

“The issues, you are facing, you know, I will aid you, I would not wish anything, to befall you, my cousin nor your children as well.”

𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖓𝖔𝖙, Corlys forgets that Viserys was never meant to rule. So many years bitter and hurt over the idea of his beloved wife having the crown stolen from her right under her nose had curdled a friendship into something vile and envious within his chest. And yet, the lord of Driftmark had never given any thought to the idea if Viserys, ever dutiful and patient Viserys, wanted to be king. He remembers his Targaryen brethren as a young man, more interested in books and the studies of Old Valyria than he had ever been in ruling an entire kingdom. Some men were born for greatness, other were molded. He had not yet divined in which category he could place the now most gracious king in, but he knows it within his heart of hearts that a bad man, he was not. He would not wish his fate upon even his most hated enemy, let alone a man who had once been a trusted friend.

𝕿𝖔 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖎𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖊 inspired a kindle of hope within his chest. Of course it was genuine, for Corlys did not freely offer his land to anyone, king or not. Driftmark was his second pride and joy, only coming close to his children who were first. Perhaps being surrounded by family and the comfort of the sea was what the king needed to get back on his feet, no matter how much time it would take to heal the wound within his heart. Queen Aemma was one of the most gracious and beautiful queens ever to grace the kingdom and she will go down in history as a beautiful tragedy, taken away from the realm far too soon. "I am glad to know my offer pleases you. There is no need to rush. Take as much time to think about it as you need."

𝕮𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖞𝖘 𝖘𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖘 𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖚𝖕 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌'𝖘 𝖙𝖔𝖆𝖘𝖙. To hear the promise of a better future and assitance with the Stepstones was a relief he did know know he held within him. Drinking the red wine slowly, he considers that perhaps it is not all bad to strip away decorum every once in a while and speak to others as equals-- as friends-- within the court. And who better to have as a trusted companion and ally than the king of the seven kingdoms himself? "Hear, hear," He replies, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "To the Targaryen family, may their reign be long as it has been glorious."

[acraftedmistake]

A Person Who Has Never Played MCSM Writes A Story About MCSM Chp. 14

HAHAAA BACK IN BUSINESS BABY!

Hope you enjoy this one!!

Jesse sat against the broken column by the shrine’s entrance, a breeze brushing against his face. He brought his eyes up, looking at the clear blue sky through the ravine’s crack and listening to the faint conversations coming from inside the shrine. There was nothing for him here.

No answers to Lukas’ whereabouts, nothing about what The Awakening was planning next, the only thing these past few gatherings have given him was discomfort.

Nell was usually the one to talk him into attending each Gathering, but she was sick today. This was his first time coming here alone, and hopefully his last. Being by himself made him even more aware of how everything felt… Off. Whenever members saw him walk in, they’d stop by his seat to say hi and talk about what’s going on, if he was enjoying his visits, simple small talk. However, something everyone seemed too comfortable with was how close they’d get to him. Jesse was never too big on people being near or putting their hands on him, the only exceptions being a quick handshake, a pat on the back from his friends, or Aiden messing with his hair to annoy him. Those were harmless and only lasted a moment. But whenever Jesse would step into the shrine, he'd see a few people’s faces light up as they’d walk over to him with arms open wide, ready to hug him as if they were best friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. They’d pull him close, place their hand on his shoulder as they spoke about their day, and refused to loosen their grip even when he asked. Some people would look genuinely hurt when he pulled away.

There would be nights where these Awakening individuals, Nell included, would spot Jesse on the streets. Those were the worst days. The way they’d look at him with big, bright smiles that stretched from ear to ear, walking up to him and asking if he was coming to this week’s Gathering made him feel terrible. He didn’t want to keep coming, he already felt like he was betraying his own friends, but he was afraid of how the members would react if he refused to return.

He knew the members meant well and were just trying to be nice, at least, that’s what he believed, but they’re all so unaware of how horrible their leaders actually are.

“No, they aren’t called ‘leaders’,” He remembered Nell telling him before one of the Gatherings, “they’re Visions! They look after us.”

Brenner and Mahlon, the ‘Visions’, the individuals who preached about helping others, the individuals who gave guidance to their members and offered their support during trying times were the same individuals who unleashed their horrific lava creation onto the world. They were the same people who took away lives and watched the world burn with no remorse.

They were terrible.

Jesse had watched the older, white haired Vision--the man who had screamed vile curses at him and his friends--happily play with children outside of the shrine. He’d sit on the grass and tell them stories about The Awakening and The Hero after the Gatherings were over. It was so surreal to witness.

The Visions might’ve fooled these misguided people, but they haven’t fooled Jesse. He was waiting for someone, the leaders, Cecil, anyone to slip up and reveal their next scheme, but nothing’s happened yet. If they haven’t hinted at anything these past few weeks who knows how long it’ll take them. Jesse can’t keep coming here forever. Aiden and Olivia had questioned why he’s been leaving the house more often, and who the blonde woman greeting him every now and then was. He knew the excuses: “I just need to clear my head” and “Someone I kinda know” will only last him so long.

Today was going to be his last visit. There was nothing for him here.

“Is all well?” Jesse heard an older man ask. He brought his head up. Standing over him was one of the Visions. Mahlon. The Vision’s head was tilted down slightly, his foggy eye focused more on the broken column rather than the boy below.

“Yeah--Yes, Vision… Sir.” When Jesse spoke the Vision lowered his head more, ‘staring’ more in the direction from where Jesse’s voice came.

“No need to be so formal.” The old man chuckled, “You can call me by my name.” Mahlon said as he sat besides Jesse.

“You’re Jesse, if I remember correctly? Our newest member?” Mahlon asked.

“Right.” Jesse said through gritted teeth, his body stiff as a board. He tried to lean away from Mahlon. Just the thought of being associated with these people made him sick.

“And how are you liking it here?” Mahlon spoke gently, his voice was slightly hoarse.

Jesse answered with a lie, “It’s nice here.” He was afraid of locking eyes with Mahlon. He was half expecting the man’s blindness to be another deceiving trick, but anytime Jesse glanced at him, he saw a genuine look of curiosity on Mahlon’s face, like he wanted to hear more.

The mixture of Mahlon’s pleasant expression and Jesse’s fear of upsetting him prompted him to keep lying. He lied about the new friends he’s made here, how each Gathering had connected with him, and how much their words meant to him. As he kept lying, Mahlon kept smiling. Jesse couldn’t take his eyes off of Mahlon’s burn scar. Most of the old man’s face had been taken over by this fleshy-pink scar that stretched from the bottom left of his face all the way to the top right in a somewhat diagonal manner. The only remaining visible parts of his white, porcelain skin was a small portion where his right eye was, his mouth--where his long, thin white beard covered bits of the scar--and the upper left part of his forehead. Jesse had also noticed that only one of Mahlon’s eyes could open properly while the left one was melted shut. Jesse, admittingly, felt terrible that he couldn’t take his attention away from Mahlon’s distortions. It’s disrespectful--well, it’s not like the old man would ever know where he’s staring, but it was disrespectful nonetheless. The only other feature that would occasionally distract Jesse from the face was Mahlon’s long, white hair which flowed like a candle’s fire in the wind.

Jesse’s kind words sparked a rambling from the old man. Mahlon began talking about everyone’s first visit, how their family welcomes anyone with open arms, the variety of celebrations they’ll have throughout the year to look forward to… These were more words to ‘help’ Jesse feel more ‘comfortable’ here, no doubt. As Mahlon spoke, he’d gesture with his hands. The long sleeves of his robe would flow along with his movements. His attire was similar to Brenner’s. Both wore robes that were a deep shade of red. The ends of the sleeves and the bottom of the robe itself were aligned with a golden yellow. Unlike Brenner’s, however, where the bottom of his robe--and the collar around his neck--had a small, triangle slit, Mahlon had none. Instead, he had a hood that was quite difficult to spot due to his thick hair covering it. Another element Mahlon’s robe had that Brenner lacked was a thick, V-shaped golden line around his waist that could be mistaken as a belt. If Jesse really concentrated on the golden parts of the robe he could make out a variety of tiny symbols--mostly being odd shapes and dashes--on them. Their color was only slightly darker than the yellow they were sewn into, making them easy to miss.

In all honesty, the robe was elegant. It was clear so much time and effort was put into making sure this wonderful robe fit this horrible man. Someone so vile doesn’t deserve to wear something so graceful.

“So what is troubling you?” Mahlon asked. “If you’ve been enjoying your time here, then why sit out here all alone?”

“How’d you even know I was out here?” Jesse tilted his head slowly, curious and a little disturbed.

“Cecil, the lad. He told me.”

Cecil. Of course. What else has he been telling the Visions? He’s probably been keeping them updated every time Jesse so much as scratched his head, but now wasn’t the time to get upset. Jesse needed to make an excuse. Any excuse, as long as it was believable.

“I’ve been...” Jesse swallowed, “Thinking about a friend I lost.”

That was meant to be a lie, but it struck Jesse that it’s been nearly a year since Lukas had gone missing. He started to feel queasy.

Mahlon’s smile faded and was replaced by a look of sorrow, “I see.” He said in a whisper.

There was a moment of silence. Jesse hugged his knees, and Mahlon faced forward and stroked his beard.

Mahlon turned to Jesse again and spoke carefully, “I’m terribly sorry about your friend.”

“Don’t be,” Jesse had to force his next words out, “it wasn’t your fault.”

“If I may,” Mahlon said, “I had also lost someone close to me.”

“You did?” The sinking feeling in Jesse’s stomach grew.

“Yes, he was our Sense before you came along.” Mahlon began, “He had been a wonderful friend of mine since I was a boy, and I fondly remember the excitement I felt when I heard the news that he had been selected as my and Brenner’s Sense. We were all overjoyed. Even after our ceremony, where we were expected to remain resilient leaders, it truly felt like nothing had changed between us. We were three friends who worked together and achieved our dreams. Frankly, the whole experience felt like a dream.” He let out a pleasant laugh as he rested his head on his hands. “Antonin and Brenner made the last ten years of being a Vision possibly the greatest years of my life.” There was a sparkle of joy in Mahlon’s eye, “You’d be surprised how short a decade feels when you’re my age. Oh, it all went by so fast.”

Mahlon’s mouth twitched and he let out a sigh, “And perhaps I should have been wiser; spend an extra few minutes talking to him during breakfast, join him when he was training with Brenner, ramble with him in the library for a moment longer. I was so certain time was on my side. I truly thought that nothing bad could have ever happened to him.”

Jesse listened to Mahlon, and how his voice would get lower the longer he went on. It'd crack and shake at certain points of his recollection, and that bit of light in his eye began to fade. A part of Jesse wanted to feel bad, the other wondered just how blind Mahlon was.

Antonin, this ‘wonderful’ man, surely couldn’t have been the same man who was running towards Jesse and his friends the night they were fighting the lava beast. The image of the man’s black hair flying in the air as he was rushing to them, his sword held high, his red cloak torn, and nothing but hatred in his eyes as he screamed bloody murder at them under the smoke-filled sky was fresh in Jesse’s mind. Maybe Mahlon never saw this horrible side of his friend. Maybe he refused to see it.

And then there was that word, “Sense”. Jesse had heard Radar mention the word in the past when referencing The Awakening, he’s also heard that word in passing conversations in the shrine. He remembered Nell telling him all about their ‘community’ one day before a Gathering started, and they soon got on the topic of Cecil. “...He’s also a leader,” Nell had said, “...but he mostly protects the Visions. He’s like their own personal guard.” Jesse could hardly contain his disbelief. He couldn’t believe someone like Cecil was now another leader of the Awakening.

‘What a downgrade.’ Jesse thought to himself. To think the Awakening’s past Sense--a broad madman who was dead set on killing Jesse’s friends when the world was falling apart--had been replaced by some skinny, sickly pale blondie who used to flee from a fight when things became a little overwhelming. Even Cecil’s attire felt less-than compared to the Visions’ and Antonin’s. His red cloak went a bit past his waste and had a golden collar with a small, yellow button keeping the cloak together. There were no fancy symbols on it either--at least none which Jesse could see. It was jarring to see such an uptight, boastful man wear something so… Plain.

“Oh look at me, acting like he’s died long ago.” Mahlon chuckled sadly, “It’s only been a year; minutes for me.”

“You’re a fine boy,” Mahlon fixed his posture and faced Jesse’s direction again, “I’m absolutely certain your friend was just as wonderful a person as you.”

“Thank--” Jesse quickly hid his voice crack with a cough, “Thank you. He was… He was the best.”

“Our bodies may die on this earth,” Mahlon slowly rose, “but our spirits live on in The Hero’s hands.” Mahlon offered his hand to Jesse, “Will you be joining our Gathering today?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Olivia woke up. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She did remember talking with Jess about what happened last night. They were on the bed, both worried about what was happening and about each other. Guess she just… dozed off. She felt well rested at least, that’s always important. What time was it though?

She sat up and ran her hand through her tangled hair before getting out of bed. Olivia dragged her feet across the guest room’s floor to the window and opened the curtains just a sliver. She peaked through the crack, hoping to see the sun and get a vague idea of what hour it was, but instead she was greeted with light gray clouds completely covering the sky. She didn’t see anyone roaming the streets, so hopefully it was still morning. That’s technically evening for Aiden and the others, isn’t it?

She still wasn’t used to this time difference. She didn’t want to get used to it. Her sleep schedule was already weird enough, she could only imagine how horrific it would get if she got adjusted to the hours here. And being active at night… The idea didn’t sound appealing to her at all. She thought back to the times she pulled all-nighters on projects, getting headaches from the bright redstone lamps shining down on her because the Sun had set and needing to leave the comfort of her own home and storm over to the nearest cave to find whatever material she ran out of before mobs would hunt her down. Those nights were the most infuriating, and she shuddered at the thought of living every single day like that. That’d be a life full of inconveniences.

“Hm…” Olivia looked around the guest room. Where was Jess? She would’ve definitely spotted him by now, or he would’ve given her a loud ‘Good Morning!’ from behind that’d always scare the socks off of her back when they used to live in the treehouse together.

The only place she could think of was downstairs. Maybe he’s having breakfast already.

Olivia quietly left her room, making sure to open and close the door carefully so she wouldn’t awaken anyone nearby. As she made her way down the stairs, she heard a faint conversation grow louder.

When she finally reached the end, she peeked over the wall and saw Jess and Aiden sitting together on the couch working on the flint and steel. They still didn’t seem too thrilled with each other, but it was much better than the anger and shouting from last night.

“Morning guys.” Olivia said as she began walking over.

Jess waved at her, “Morning!”

Aiden gave her a stiff “Hey.”, while he continued to focus on the tool.

“Is that the appropriate thing to say?” She asked Aiden, “Can I say ‘Good Morning’? Or do you have a special phrase for this specific time?” She sat down beside Jess, sinking into the couch cushion.

“ ‘Morning’’s uncommon, but it’s fine.” Aiden replied, “Most people usually say ‘Good day’ or somethin’ like that.”

She nodded then leaned closer to the table where the items and notes were placed, “Any progress?” She shifted around, trying to get a bit more comfortable, but felt grainy, sand-like particles stuck to her feet. She glanced at the floor to see redstone powder scattered everywhere. It clinged onto the ends of the couch and got stuck in between the cracks of the wooden boards. That powder was an uncomfortable feeling on the feet and a pain to clean up.

“It was kinda rocky at first, but we’ve figured out the notes with Radar’s help!” Jess started. While he wanted to show Olivia what they’ve accomplished, Aiden was still holding onto the flint and steel with one hand, and reading a page of notes in the other, so he decided to let Aiden be. “We coated the fire striker with redstone powder. It actually stuck to the metal pretty well, but we’re still being careful whenever we place it down. We also figured out we need to make this weird mish-mash of a gold and netherrack base? Mold? Something to fit the flint in--” Jess went on to describe their plans on how they were going to create a mold out of such odd materials when suddenly Aiden interrupted.

“Olivia,” He finally spoke up, “I--I’m sorry about last night.” He gripped the flint and steel so tightly he was afraid it was going to break. “I should’ve controlled myself better--I shouldn’t have told Jesse about you. I shouldn’t have even mentioned you.” He shot up from the couch and was fidgeting with the tool now. He kept running his free hand through his hair, not caring about the red powder getting tangled up with the strands. “I put you and Jess in danger when I just wanted to help. I know--” He swallowed, “I know you’re not from this universe, you’re not really my friends, but I still want to protect you. I wanna help get you outta this mess I started.”

Olivia stopped and stared at him for a moment, surprised by this sudden apology. She slowly clasped her hands together and blinked. “Aiden…” She said quietly, “It’s okay. I forgive you.” She didn’t realize how comforting that apology was. Even if the situation was looming over them, things felt a little better.

“We’ll figure a way out of this together.” Jess added in. “And uh…” He glanced at Olivia then at Aiden, “Yeah, I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday too.”

“No, you two don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Aiden pointed at Jess as he placed the tool on top of the papers.

“But I could’ve handled things better.” Jess mumbled and went silent for a moment. “Aiden, I know you want to protect us, but we’re able to help. We don’t need to be locked in here and supervised like children. We’ve saved the world--multiple worlds--multiple times. We can help! Heck, I’m the mayor of an entire town!” He exclaimed.

“I sometimes forget about that unfortunate fact.” Olivia commented, a little smirk on her face.

Jess turned around with his eyebrows raised high. He actually looks a bit offended by her joke. “And what do you mean by ‘unfortunate’?”

“Like I could forget the time you tried to decorate Beacon Town with lava-falls for Halloween.” She kept that playful but devious expression on. She propped one leg up and rested her arm on her knee, “You nearly burnt down a good third of the buildings.”

“I put it out!” Jess felt his face turn a light shade of pink. “Plus I was following Ivor’s advice! So the Halloween Incident was technically his fault!”

“Oh sure, blame the senior citizen.” Olivia chuckled. Aiden snickered along. Jess turned even more red as he tried to think of a witty comeback, but all he could do was give her a light shove then turn away, folding his arms and pouting like a little kid as he struggled to hold back his own laughter.

“Alright, but seriously.” Aiden was finally relaxed, “I was just worked up when I said that. We can take you two outta the house and wherever you need to be as long as you hide your faces well enough.” He went to the kitchen, “I’m gonna make myself some coffee. You two want any?” He looked back at Jess and Olivia.

“Yes please!” Olivia said.

Jess shook his head, “I’m alright, thanks though.”

Aiden took out a small saucepan and placed it under the sink. He turned the faucet on and kept an eye on the water’s level.

“Actually…” Jess perked up, “Speaking of lava, what did that lava monster you guys fought look like? I’ve been thinking about it ever since you’ve brought it up.”

“Now that you mention it,” Olivia said, patting down her frizzy hair, “I’ve been pretty interested as well.”

“Oh jeez.” Aiden sighed as he turned off the water and brought the pan to the stove. He turned the heat to medium high, the knob making faint clicking sounds with each number he passed. “Man, we could only stare at that thing for a couple of seconds or our eyes would’ve melted off.” As the water slowly began to heat up, Aiden turned to a higher cabinet and swung it open.

“I knew it had a couple of eyes and a bunch of arms.” He pushed aside a few items and stopped when he spotted a small, crinkled, light blue bag.

“How many?” Olivia asked.

“Hero if I know.” Aiden let out a laugh, “More than five. It’d drag itself around with them, one arm would merge into another, and then when that thing brought one of it’s limbs back into the air--” He raised one of his arms over his head attempting to recreate the motion, “--you could see the arm split up into two or three more. And when it’s claws would hit the ground it’d send rocks and magma flying everywhere.” He splayed his fingers out, “I know a good chunk of forests burnt down, and some houses in nearby towns too, unfortunately. The library almost got hit too!” He explained while he opened and closed multiple drawers, trying to look for something.

“And the sound. Sweet Hero, the sound. It’s one of those things I’ll probably never forget. I sometimes hear it in my dreams.” He finally spotted what he was searching for--a tablespoon--and closed the drawer. He opened his bag of coffee, scooped up a hefty spoonful of powder, and added it into the pan, getting a bit of the powder on the kitchen counter. “So it’d start off real low, right? Almost sounds like a rumble, but then it’d open it’s mouth more and more until it’d let out this roar that left us deaf for nearly a minute!” He added a few more tablespoons into the water and began mixing the contents together, “Hadrian told us the sound was enough to shake the buildings, and that it’s body was so bright they thought it was day! He and Mevia used to travel the world a ton and they told us they’ve never seen anything like that creature before.”

“That’s insane.” Olivia’s eyes were wide. “That thing sounds just as dangerous as Ivor’s Witherstorm.”

“Tell me about it.” Jess was thinking about what such a beast would look like. Multiple eyes, a giant mouth, enough strength to shake the earth with each step it took. He could only imagine how horrendous the damage must’ve been, the smoke that filled the air with the fires it caused, the ashes flying everywhere, it was probably hot enough to melt a person’s skin off if they were unfortunate enough to stand too close.

“Now,” Aiden said as he tossed the tablespoon into the sink, “how bout that Witherstorm of yours? What was that like?”

Jess thought it was only fair to share their tale now. He went into detail about how the Witherstorm happened in the first place, how it kept following them and destroying everything in it’s path, how they had to travel across the world to create a weapon strong enough to destroy it, only for that plan to fail and leading to Jess having to kill it from the inside. This soon led to Jess going off about Ivor and The Order of the Stone, the Ender Dragon, and how Jess and his friends discovered the truth about them. Every now and then when Jess would mention the names of people he’s met, he’d ask Aiden if he’s ever interacted with them in this universe. Aiden needed their physical appearance to be described to get a good idea of them, but most of his answers were usually: “Don’t know them.” or a “I think we might’ve met ‘em?”. The only names Aiden seemed familiar with were Isa, Harper, and Otto. There was a big maybe on Gabriel and Soren.

“Hadrian and Mevia might’ve known them, honestly.” Aiden said at one point, “They’ve met a ton of people when they were ramblers.”

As Jess and Olivia kept going back and forth talking about the Admins, White Pumpkin, and everything else they’ve experienced, Aiden would listen along and chime in with similar situations he and his friends went through. His reactions were definitely mixed when he learned about their Cassie Rose and what she’s done. There’d be points where all he could do was laugh over how bizarre the situation sounded, and other instances where he couldn’t react at all because of how… Unstable Jess and Olivia’s Cassie Rose seemed. Aiden eventually came back into the living room with two cups of fresh, hot coffee in his hands. He sat beside Jess and placed one of the cups on the table for Olivia. She gave him a quiet thank you as they both continued to listen to Jess’ stories.

Jess was sharing his experiences out of order, but he was finally telling Aiden about Hadrian and Mevia. How they ran these twisted games and how he thought Lukas and Petra were killed right before his eyes--when suddenly Aiden jerked forward and choked on his coffee.

He hurriedly placed his cup down--spilling a bit of his drink--and broke into a coughing fit. Jess patted his back a couple of times to try and help him.

“You--your friends with Lukas in your universe?” Aiden asked between coughs.

“Yeah,” Jess answered, “I thought we--” He froze. Oh no. They never… Did they never tell Aiden that they knew Lukas in their universe? Or maybe they did--but did they never mention that they were all friends?

“And he’s alive?” Aiden said, his voice a touch raspy from the strain.

“Yes--absolutely! He’s still in one piece! We met cause of the Witherstorm and got real close throughout all those adventures.” Jess was speaking so fast, “Argh, I’m sorry, I thought I told you this.” How could he forget to tell Aiden something as major as this? Especially after Aiden had told him all about the struggles he and his friends went through after their Lukas went missing.

“No, don’t be. I probably--” Aiden stopped to cough again, “I probably forgot. I sorta remember you mentioning I kinda sucked in your universe.” He grinned. There was a sad look in his eyes. “But are Lukas and I… Are we friends there?”

Jess didn’t answer for a second. In that second he thought back to Sky City; the hatred and disgust in Lukas’ eyes whenever he had to face or even acknowledge Aiden. He thought about the many letters their Aiden had sent over that Lukas threw away. He remembered Lukas’ curious expression contorting to pure anger when Jess had mentioned Aiden wanting redemption. He doesn’t--

“Oh, absolutely!” Olivia lied. “Sure you guys hit a couple of rough patches here and there, especially after the whole Sky City incident, but you two made up!”

Jess went along, “You two live pretty far away from each other, but I know you and Lukas like to hang out at this one restaurant at least once a month to catch up.”

“The Shulker Spices?” Olivia made up the restaurant’s name on the spot.  

Jess snapped his finger, “Yeah, that one! Great stuff.”

“That’s good to hear… That’s probably the best thing I’ve heard in a while.” The soft smile on Aiden’s face faltered for a moment. Sure, he looked relieved, but Jess felt terrible. He hated flat out lying like this, but there was no way he was going to crush Aiden with the truth, and it’s not like he’ll ever know. They did the right thing. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Aiden’s body loosened and he let out a long sigh. “It’s been rough ever since he went missing.” He admitted, “Jess, you got a lotta good things back in your universe. Your friends are all still there, you’ve been able to take down any problems comin’ at you… I bet the people there must love ya.”

“But… Your friends love you too, don’t they?” Jess asked, gently placing his hand on Aiden’s back.

“Yeah--I didn’t mean to--of course they do!” Aiden quickly lifted his head back up, “And… You know…” His face got a little red, “I love ‘em too.”

Aiden went to grab his coffee to have another sip, “But you two need to get back to your universe. Once Rose comes back we can finish that flint and steel and get you two home.”

“Cassie’s still gone?” Olivia sounded concerned.

“She’ll be alright.” Aiden said, gesturing with his mug. “I know she can handle herself in extreme places like the Nether, but if she doesn’t come back by the end of tomorrow, we’ll have to hunt her down.”

The three sat on the couch, motionless for a minute, and couldn’t really think of anything else to talk about, so Jess and Olivia decided to finally make themselves breakfast. Jess helped himself to a couple of eggs; preparing a pan to scramble them in while Olivia mostly searched throughout the kitchen for ideas. She didn’t know what she was craving, she just knew she was hungry. As she scanned the contents of the pantry, something struck her.

“Sort of on the topic of questions, or--well, things about other universes…” She fumbled with her words as she reached inside to grab a small container of oatmeal, “I was wondering if there’d be anyway to, uh, see my place of death--my grave. If--if I have one.” She immediately held her breath after asking that question. She knew this was undoubtedly a personal thing to ask, but she’s been wanting to know for some time. She didn’t know when to ask before, and--and this felt like her only chance. She glanced at Aiden to see if he had heard her. He was staring right back at her, frozen in place with his coffee inches away from his face. His mouth was stuck open like he was in disbelief over what Olivia had just asked. Olivia even caught a glimpse of Jess being just as off guard by her question.

“I--We don’t--” Olivia stammered. She quickly turned away from the boys and tried to hide her face behind the pantry door, “We don’t have to! I understand if you don’t want to!” She said, “It might be dangerous to go outside anyways, I don’t mind if you describe it instead--”

“Is that what you wanna do?” Aiden asked, the energy of his voice absent compared to what it sounded like minutes ago. He set his cup aside and headed to the kitchen. To Olivia.

“Only if you think it’s safe.” Olivia’s voice was shaky. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. She shouldn’t have asked.

“If we go together,” Jess spoke up, “and hide ourselves, we should be alright.” He wanted to try and be supportive, but even he wasn’t too sure about this.

“Right.” Aiden said, focusing on Olivia. He folded his arms, “We’d have to do it soon. Today might be your only chance. If that’s where you want to go, I’ll take you there.”

[bitchfitch]

Because, That's How The Stories Always Go

Count this a prolog, or a self contained tragedy.

An adventuring party lead by the fated hero of this land trecked across the scorched earth beneath the red moonlight. The smell of rot and char and burned blood filled the searing air between the cragly cliff faces. Twisted roots and branches, now more charcoal than wood caught on their clothes and gear as they pushed on ward down this path towards their shared destinies. The cracking and snapping as each delicate piece of destruction as it fell from its trunk joined the marching footsteps through the cinder and ash.

Twisted approximations of people and animals shambled in the distance, barely hidden by the thick, putrid yellow of the sulphurous smog that drifted from cracks in the ground. The Villain's influence burned all around them and twisted the world and everything in it to match his hellish nature.

This was once an idealic place, a sprawling verdant valley with a beautiful white stone castel at its center. That was where the princess, the beautiful and noble future queen of this land, had been sent to keep her safe from the encroaching vile destruction rought at The Demons Kings hands. Only for his forces to have invaded this land and taken her hostage as a putrid bid for power.

They had demanded that the true and righteous king give up the land their bile had seeped into in exchange for his only child's life. In bloody ink and spat words The Villain had threatened to kill her and feed her to the the six eyed bull-wolf monster that stood at his right hand, or crueler yet, to make her the beasts wife, or perhaps even his own if he was feeling particularly mean, if his demented demands were not met.

The Hero and his party trudged onward, ever closer to the center of this plight. To the princess, to her captor, to the Villain of this story. Unbeknownst to them though, their every step was being watched by the burning crows that cawed and croaked overhead, their ruby eyes cutting through the smog to track every step.

---

The Villain watched from within his throne room, the simple dark metal hand mirror that acted as his view to this scene was clutched tight in his white knuckle grip. He kept his sholders square as he watched the march, his face neautral, but he knew what was coming.

His hands shook, his gut turned itself inside out, the fire that ran in his veins seemingly died and left him cold to his very core.

He flicked his wrist to change the view, a final check over of everything he'd built. His people cowered from the path they had suspected the Hero and his party would take, their store rooms were full, their defenses ready. The Villain tried to unclench hks jaw, they were all so scared. They were all in so much danger.

He had to protect them. That was what he promised to do. To keep them safe from a world that scorned their ilk. He had failed so spectacularly. How many had died to protect this infant kingdom? How many had nobly, foolishly, bravely, stood between The Hero and The Villain? How many had been slain? How many would be in the aftermath of this? Would there be another cull? How many parents would live just long enough to see their children die?

They were in danger, and it was his fault. He wasn't strong enough, or clever enough. He wasn't enough to keep them safe.

But, maybe, just maybe he could buy them time. Allow another fire wrought ruler to take his place as protector. To keep them all alive just a little bit longer.

A hand, Heavy and bulky rested on his shoulder, only his thick cape kept it from being burned as his turmoil made his skin glow with searing heat.

"Minion," The Villain said as he set aside the mirror, turning to look at the goliath of a monster he called his best friend, "Promise me something," His own hand came to rest on the back of Minion's, spindly stark ash white fingers that were barely cool enough to stand, against shiny and thick black and rust red fur,

"Anything," Minion said without thought, "But know I am bad at promises," His voice was heavy, a deep baritone that rumbled through his chest, carryimg the sorrow that was held their out with it,

"Be a better king than I was," his own voice was cold, all the fire gone from it. He had done his mourning alone in his private rooms earlier, with one of Minion's shirts clutched tight to his chest. Now he just needed to be strong one last time,

"You ask impossible things of me," Minion snorted his almost pitch black eyes found the Villain's fire blues, "I can stay, We could fight them together-" he was always earnest, but now the force behind his conviction could burn hotter than even The Villain could,

"Then we would both be killed, and I would spend my last moments grieving," Villain sighed. He's seen his friend fall to those heros too many times to have any hope that he would survive another encounter. Villain wouldn't allow his own selfish desire to not be alone while facing his execution be what kills Minion.

Villain pulls his hand away, before slowly reaching with both to remove the crown from his head.

It was a circle of twistend and melted sword blades that he had forged for himself when he declared himself future king of this land, blood drenched and victorious. The tarnish on its surface evaporated as it turned red then white hot. The hard metal melting in his heated hands as he shaped it. The circle had fit him perfectly, it would sit nicely just behind his horns as a twisted accent to them. But it would have been far too small for Minion's skull. So he bent and twisted it until it was perfect again, now a half circle that could rest above his broad horns without interfering with his bovine ears or the pair of eyes that sat the highest on his face.

"Take this and go to your people, my friend, give them my apologies and your strength," He spoke while he finalized the shape, "If you do not think you can be a better king than I, then at least promise to be one that sees happier times and many, many more years," He took a breath before turning to look his friend in the eye, "Now kneel for me one last time,"

Minion's breath was choppy as silent oily tears stained the sides of his muzzle. Still, he knelt before the throne with his head bowed, not another word passing between his fangs. Even like this, hunched forward on one knee, he was almost a full hand taller than Villain.

Villain sapped the heat from the crown, setting it into its new shape and cooling it enough to not burn as it was placed, "The land shall recognize its new king," he set it between Minion's horns, his hands hesitating for a moment before drifting from the now cold metal to cup the sides of Minion's face, the fur here beneath his six eyes was silk beneath the former king's fingers.

Memories flooded him of the days spent with a pair of scissors between them as they tried to tame the thick beard that seemed determined to make a home here against Minion's wishes, and the laughter as they struggled to clean up the choppy edges, and the unavoidable bald spots that always cropped up do to Minion's inability to sit still, and Villain's imprecision.

"The people shall love you as much as I do," He brushed the tears away as Minion shook with a barely contained sob.

How many times have they spoken their love to each other? Whispers of desire hidden behind their genuine and iron strong friendship,

"You shall be victorious in all you attempt," Villain guided his friend to lean forward just enough for Villain to press a barely there kiss to the top of his snout as he passed on his final blessing before stepping away,

"Go now, go to your people and keep them safe. When you return… Let someone else handle the mess you will find, I couldn't bare to know I left you to sob over my corpse," Villain said, he sat the throne again, decidedly careful to look anywhere other than the hulking and devastated beast before him. He needed to be strong. He couldn't cry. Not now, not ever again.

Eventually Minion stood, his hooves scraping against the stone floors, "Rest well, when it happens." He said with shaky words, "You will be remembered, I will make sure of it," with that final promise he turned and left. Only stopping at the door to say one last thing before shutting the Villain in this tomb, "I love you,"

The door shut, the sound echoing theough the room like a thunder clap as the Villain's composure broke. He wiped at his eyes, furious with the hot red streaks that were surely staining his skin. No, no, no.

He needed to be strong. He needed to do this. He couldn't break now. Couldn't run to Minion and sob into the fur on his friends chest. Villain was always going to die. He was always going to be defeated by his fated enemy. But still, fear pulled at every inch of him.

He sobbed into his hands, staining his palms blood red. He had everything he ever wanted. A kingdom that was thriving, people that respected him, friends, a home, someone that he'd carve his own heart out for. And none of that mattered.

Because He would be dead before sunrise.

Because, thats how the stories always go.

[straycat-writes]

l’appel du vide (nakahara chuuya)

l’appel du vide (french n.) - “the call of the void”; the instinctive urge to jump from high places.

requested by: anonymous

warning(s): Alcohol, swearing

You sighed as you dropped into bed with a dull thud. The clock on the bedside table blinked 2:00 AM, and after the incredibly long day you had just had, you wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and not emerge for a full 24 hours. That, apparently, was not to be, however. You were teetering on the edge of sleeping and waking, just about to fall asleep, when your phone began to ring on the bedside table.

Mumbling a curse under your breath, you sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes. You reached for your phone, your bleary vision not allowing you to check the caller ID as you picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“(Y/n), hey!!!” said a slurred male voice from the phone, “How are you, baby??”

You blinked, then frowned, “…Chuuya?”

“Who else?” he said cheerily from the other end, before letting out a string of vile curse words as you heard something crash loudly in the background.

You sighed, already feeling a headache coming on, “Why are you calling so late, Chuuya? And are you drunk?”

“I just wanted to hear my darling’s voice, is that too much to ask for?” he whined, “And yes, I mayyybe be a little tipsy, but that has nothing to do with it.”

“Not your darling.” You muttered under your breath as you frustratedly threw off the covers and got off the bed, searching for your keys, “Where are you?”

In Chuuya’s vocabulary, ‘a little tipsy’ meant ‘wasted off my ass and on the verge of passing out’, and whatever history the two of you might have had, you couldn’t leave him be when he was like that.

He paused, as if to consider what to say, “So-somewhere…drinks…bar…I don’t know.”

You rolled your eyes, “You know what? Nevermind, there’s only one place you frequent anyway. Just…stay there. I’ll be there in a few.

True to your words, five minutes later, you were in your car driving towards Chuuya’s favourite bar in the dead of the night. You ran a hand through your hair, muttering to yourself in frustration, “Why, why, why did this idiot call me of all people?”

It had been a month since you had seen him last. All you remember of that last encounter was a lot of screaming and yelling at each other interspersed by strings of curse words before the inevitable ‘I want to break up’ came. You didn’t even remember which one of you had been the one to say it, but frankly, it didn’t matter. It had been said, and that was that. You had completely cut yourself off from him after that, in order to wallow in your sorrow alone and in peace, and as much as it pained you to think about now, the thought of how Chuuya might be holding up hadn’t really crossed your mind.

The answer to that was obviously ‘not good’, as it became apparent once you parked your car outside of where you thought he might be and went inside. Chuuya was getting chastised by the bartender, but he didn’t really seem to be listening, instead looking spaced out and smiling like an idiot. In hindsight, you should have seen this coming. Chuuya has never been too good at dealing with stressful situations, and only has two sorry excuses of coping mechanisms: destroying something or getting drunk off his mind. When he saw you, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“(Y/n)!!” he trilled, “You’re here.”

Choosing to roll your eyes in favour of gracing his wasted ass with an answer, you went up to him and tried to get him to stand on his own two feet. After apologizing profusely to the bartender on Chuuya’s behalf, you managed to half lead, half drag Chuuya back to your car. You dumped him unceremoniously into the passenger seat before getting in yourself. But instead of starting the car, you just sat there for a while, arms resting on the steering wheel and head resting over them. How did we even get here?

Back when the two of you had still been together, you used to think you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That was before everything went wrong. It was no one’s fault, really, and after a month of shutting yourself away, bingeing on ice-cream and crying yourself to sleep, you had just about convinced yourself it wasn’t meant to be, and that you were both better off away from each other.

But then this bastard decided to drunk dial you in the middle of the night, and here you were.

You felt a slight tug at your hair and looked up to see Chuuya twirling a lock of it in his fingers, “I love your hair. It’s beautiful.”

“Shut up, Chuuya.” You muttered, moving his hand away from your hair as you started the car.

“But I want to talk!” he whined, before quietly adding, “I missed you so much.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, but you willed yourself to keep driving, “Just…please shut up.”

When he didn’t say anything for a while, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His head was resting against the window, eyebrows scrunched up as he stared outside with a very displeased expression on his face. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how to.

There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days, which he probably hadn’t, and your heart clenched in your chest. You knew Chuuya had little in the way of self-care habits, but you hadn’t thought it would get this bad. Any third person looking at the two of you would have immediately pointed out that the look of exhaustion on his face mirrored the one on yours, but the thought never occurred to you.  

“Just what the hell have you been doing to yourself?” You mumbled quietly to yourself, not really expecting him to answer.

He heard you though, even through his drunken haze, and let out a bitter laugh. It sounded almost sober, and that surprised you enough to look over at him again. His eyes were glassy and rimmed with red as he looked at you, and even though he definitely wasn’t sober, he looked slightly more in possession of his wits.

“The past month has been the worst in my life.” He said after a while, “Hell, I haven’t got so pissed drunk since that shitty Dazai left.”

You sighed in frustration, “And what do you want me to do about it? I’m the last person you should be coming to.”

“Maybe. Probably.” He mumbled, “At this point, I’m really not sure what I should be doing. I…wish you’d just listen to what I have to say.”

“Listen to what you have to say? There’s nothing left to be said, Chuuya.” You said, getting increasingly distressed as you tried to keep your eyes on the empty road, “It’s done and over with, and just when I thought I’d come to terms with that – “

“I know, I know.” He interrupted, a strange kind of desperation lacing his voice, “But will you please, please just hear what I have to say?”

As if I have a choice, you wanted to say, but didn’t, and he took your silence as a yes.

“I miss you, (y/n), so much. And I know it doesn’t…doesn’t mean…much to you, but I’m so sorry.”

You snorted at that, and he fixed you with an incredulous look. You shook your head.

“I really am, and I – I don’t know what I was thinking, I just – “

“Chuuya.” You interrupted, “You’re just rambling nonsense now. Just…shut up, we’re almost at your flat.”

He sighed, “I…I guess I was just afraid.”

“Afraid?” That had piqued your interest, and the question was out before you could think the better of it.

He was hesitant at first, but then nodded, “Being with you…it felt – felt like walking the edge of a cliff. Not in a bad way, of course, but it felt so…foreign, I guess you can say. I have never been so utterly and completely in love with someone, and I knew if I accepted that and fell over the edge, you would be right there to catch me. So that’s not what scared me…”

You were listening to every word that tumbled out of his mouth with the utmost attention, partly because you were genuinely curious, and partly because you knew he would never talk this openly if he were sober. So, even though some of what he said hurt, you listened.

“What scared me was that…I…I often found myself actually wanting to…jump off that metaphorical cliff. Each time I realized what I was thinking, I would be horrified, because…well, it meant letting myself go, and you know that doesn’t have any good connotations for me. I didn’t know if I should, if it was the sensible thing to do, or even the right one, but…I don’t know if you’ll understand, (y/n), but being so completely in love with someone that you want to completely hand yourself over to them is…frightening, to say the least.”

All this time, you had been listening to him in mute wonder, not wanting to interrupt whatever trance he seemed to be in. He got scared and left you…because he loved you too much?

When you didn’t say anything, he cursed under his breath, “Damn it, this is harder to explain than I thought it would be. I’m not doing a very good job, am I?”

“What? No, it’s just…” You wanted to say you understand, you really did, but you weren’t sure if that was quite true. By now, the two of you had reached his flat, and you parked the car in front of his building, looking over at him frowning.

“Shit…I’m sorry, I just…fuck!”

“Chuuya.” You interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Chuuya! Look at me. Calm down.”

He sighed, then looked over at you with sad, red rimmed eyes, “It’s just…I’m sad. I’m sorry. I suck. I love you.”

Neither of you said anything for a good two minutes after that, just sitting in the car and listening to each other breathe. Then you sighed.

“Well, you’re certainly very eloquent for someone as pissed drunk as you are.”

He blinked at you, confused, “What?”

You shook your head and smiled at him, a thin, watery smile that dripped with sadness, but a smile nonetheless, “Let’s get you inside.”

You weren’t even sure if he’d remember any of this in the morning, or if he really did feel the way he had just described, so scared to love you, to be in love, that he pushed you away. You had no idea how to handle this, and the ache in your head just kept getting sharper and sharper. For a moment, you even caught yourself thinking that maybe it’d be better if he didn’t remember anything in the morning. That way, the both of you could go on living your lives as if nothing happened. But could you live with such a big ‘what-if’ hanging over your head?

As you drove back home in the dead of the night, after putting him to bed, you decided you weren’t ready to find the answer to that question yet.

[another-fucking-spinel-blog]

You’re Beautiful I’m Afraid

Trigger Warning!: Self harm, mild nudity (underwear), negative thoughts

PLEASE do not hesitate to ask me to tag anything else if need be!

Inspired by this song!

ALSO a huge thank you to @chaotic-spinel  for making some lovely audio for this!! Please go check them out!!

You looked at yourself in the mirror. 

Observing every lump and roll that made up your figure. Your eyes tracing every curve. Fat made its way down your body like wet clay. The brand new bra you had bought looked like wire around baking bread. Disgusting. That’s all you could think. Gross. Revolting. Nauseating. Such a shame too, you thought to yourself. It was such a cute bra, black and lacy with a cut out shaped like a cat at the top of your chest. It even came with a matching pair of underwear. The pair was on sale so naturally you ended up buying it for yourself whilst out shopping. You wanted to impress your girlfriend, Spinel, or maybe even surprise her with something special. Those thoughts were completely shut down however, when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Desperate to find some sort of attractive feature you had, something, anything! Ugly. Atrocious. Hideous. You grabbed at your belly, watching as it moved like putty. This was just your stomach. Your arms were chunky too and your thighs could feed a village. Your body was also littered with stretch marks. Like vines, they crawled their way up your frame as if trying to consume you.

You looked back up to your face. Looking yourself in the eyes with hatred and hints of sorrow. You hated yourself for numerous reasons. This just being one of them. Your mind began to spiral down, down, down. A knot forming in your throat. Your vision began to blur and your eyes burned as they filled up with hot tears. Awful thoughts were swarming your mind and your body began to itch. The urge to scratch at yourself was overpowering. You had always made sure to stay on top of keeping your nails short, just in case you had another episode. Like right now. But that didn't mean you couldn’t still do some damage.

You started to scratch at your collar bone. The friction causing your skin to turn red. The horrible thoughts didn’t stop. Each cutting deeper than your nails ever could.

“Look at yourself! You’re so disgusting!”

“Revolting slob!”

Your stomach ached and begged you for nutrients. You had a horrible habit of going hungry for days at a time.

“Vile! Hideous! Sickening!”

“How could anyone love you?”

“Unworthy”

Hot tears trailed down your cheeks and you squeezed your eyes shut. You scratched at every part of you that you hated. Your arms were next. You shook violently, you knew what was coming. You couldn’t breathe. Your legs were numb. You could barely feel it as your nails dug into your flesh like wet paper. You prayed to whatever god was out there to make it stop but to no avail. The words came anyway. You braced yourself for the finishing blow.

“How could Spinel ever-” “Hey hun, you doin’ alright?” The world froze and everything became silent. Your eyes snapped open and you turned to Spinel who was now standing in the doorway of the bathroom. You stared at each other for what felt like hours. Shock written on both of your faces.

“I,,,” Spinel said, finally breaking the silence. “I thought you might be hungry after you got back,,, so I tried to make you a sandwich but,,,” She trailed off, distracted by your abused skin. “A-are you,,, ok?” That was it. Your knees buckled making you crumple to the floor with a loud sob. Spinel was immediately by your side. Arms wrapping around you multiple times and pulling you close. You tried to apologize but the words were caught in your throat. Spinel just shushed you and rubbed her hand up and down your back in a soothing manner. Letting you get everything out before you were ready to explain.

Finally, you were beginning to calm down. Throat soar and still mildly shaking, you apologized again.

“I’m sorry Spinel. I’m so sorry!” Tears threaten to spill out again.

“For what [Y/N]??” Concern in her voice as she spoke. She was becoming a bit more worried.

“For being so,,, so,,, SO UGLY!” You finally shout, clasping a hand over your mouth quickly afterwards. You felt sick and another sob wrenched it’s way out of you. Spinel’s silence was deafening and finally you couldn’t take it anymore and looked up at her. The genuine confusion on her face was mildly comforting you had to admit.

“W-what? I don’t,,,” She asked absolutely bewildered. You caved and the dam broke as you began to explain everything. The bullying you endured in elementary through highschool. The people who turned their back on you because of how you looked. The lost friendships. The horrible coping mechanisms you’ve picked up. How you had a tendency to starve yourself for days on end. How you would binge on junk and the miserable feeling of guilt afterwards. How sometimes just the thought of eating made you sick. How it had gotten so bad that you avoided mirrors just so you wouldn’t have to look at yourself. Everything, you told her everything, until there was nothing left to tell.

Spinel tightened her hold around your shaking form. Her heart breaking at the sight of you. You, [Y/N], the person she loved more than anything, torn to pieces by something as small as appearance. She cupped your face with both of her hands, lifting it up so you would look her in the eyes. Filled with compassion and tenderness.

“[Y/N], [Y/N] listen to me.” Her voice breaking just the slightest as she tried to fight back her own tears. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. And nothin’ ‘n this world or ‘n any other world could ever change the way I feel about you. I love you ok? Hey hey look at me! I love you so much, sometimes I just want to squeeze you. I know you can’t see it now but, please, trust me when I say you are perfect. Just the way you are. You don’t need to change yourself for me. Or for ‘nyone else for that matter! And ya know what? I’d still love ya no matter what you’d look like.” She wiped away a stream of tears with her thumb and smiled gently. It was hard to look her in the eyes, but from her voice alone, you could tell she truly meant what she said.

“And,,, if you really don’t feel comfortable with yourself, and you want to change for you, then I’ll be right by your side. Every step of the way.” She placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. “I love you Darlin’” She said into your hair, lightly inhaling your scent.

A fresh wave of tears had made their way to the surface. Not really from sadness but more from relief. Spinel lightly rocked from side to side as she held you. Whispering sweet “I love you”s and soft compliments until you finally settled down.

“Feelin’ a bit better?” She asked softly. You nodded.

“Yeah, just a bit tired.” You looked back up at her and smiled. “Thank you Spins.” “No problem Doll. Now c’mere and let ol’ Spinsy kiss all your worries away. When I’m done with ya, you’ll never think badly about yourself again.” You giggled and looked away. Blush forming on your cheeks.

“Omygosh how can you say that right now? Look at me!” You gestured to your face. “I’m a hot mess!” Spinel smirked, looking you up and down.

“The hottest mess I’ve eva’ seen. Especially since you’ve got yourself all dolled up for me~ Is that a new outfit Dollface?”

Your face became red hot at the sudden realization that you’d been sitting there, in the bathroom, in nothing but your underwear. You squeaked and quickly tried to hide yourself with your arms. But Spinel was one step ahead of you. She grabbed your wrists before you could do anything and leaned towards you.

“Nuh uh uh Suga’, I said I was going to kiss every last bit of ya and I meant it.” A mischievous look grew on her face as she leaned in and kissed you passionately.

Oh boy, this was gunna take a while,,,

[kittensjonsa]

For @jonsa-week 's Day 1:

Greed ~ The Father (Justice) ~ Fave book quote (Jon, A Storm of Swords - pg 617)

Summary: Revenge was all he wanted and it didn’t matter how he got it. But Jon knew he had bitten off more than he can chew the moment he laid his eyes on Sansa Stark - daughter of the well loved and respected man in all of Westeros and recent widower turned priest, Ned Stark. 

Rated G, 2k+ words, may turn smutty. Angsty, a snippet of Jonsa, dark Jon and to be continued (maybe I don’t know yet..)

In The Name of The Father

Justice. It was all he wanted. The plans he had didn't have any room for any incidences. Nothing at all. Just get in, get it done and get out. He was prepared, or at least he thought so.

“Something troubling you, son?”

Jon jumped slightly at the call. Turning around slowly as calm and confident footsteps approached him, Jon managed a small smile of greeting. A small creak told him the priest had just taken a seat in the pew just behind his.

“Well, isn't everyone who comes here?”

A small grin and a chuckle escaped the sombre priest. “True. Aren't we all? Well if there's anything you need, confess or anything, I'll be right here.”

Confess. A heavy word worth its weight in guilt and remorse. He had a confession, truth be told but tonight was not the night. Oh the things he could tell, but he shouldn't. Not to Father Ned Stark.

“I'm sorry, Father.. but I'm afraid.. I'm not Catholic. I just came here to take a breather. It's very.. peaceful here.”

It wasn't prayer nor intercession he was after. Nor a minute of peaceful solitude. He had enough of those growing up alone.

Forgiveness. That was on his mind, the moment he stepped into the church. He feared he would vanish and spontaneously combust, on such sacred premises, for the vile things he had done but he guessed going to hell didn't work that way. Jon had a feeling he had one foot in it already.

“How could you? You animal!” Sansa's cries were acid, burning right through him.

“I fell in love with you! To think I gave you all of me, my heart was yours! A-and you.. you just stomped on it? How dare you even come here!”

“Sansa, you're not listening to me.. please just listen.”

Sansa shook her head and rubbed away at the tears that were flowing freely. Oh, how it hurts. She gave herself to him. All of her; mind, body and soul. She would do anything for him. Anything to make him happy. He was her best friend, her soul mate. But how could her feelings be so wrong?

Sansa screamed in anger as Jon stepped closer. She was done. The lies, oh God, the lies!

“No! Don't touch me! We are done! Don't ever come near me ever again! You.. are dead to me.”

No words had ever punched him in the gut like Sansa’s..Jon could only watch as Sansa ran away from him, driving off and leaving him alone by the river. The night was unbearably cold all of a sudden. Their favourite spot and where they kissed for the first time. He shouldn't care nor remember these things, but he did. Good lord, he did.

The stab that pierced through his heart was one he didn't expect. Perhaps he did love her too. .

But.. Mother. And Arthur.

He was greedy. Greedy for things to be set right. Greedy for vengeance. For vindication. But he had no right to break her heart. And for what it's worth, his too.

His happiness meant nothing if he didn't have any peace. One that would come in the aftermath of finally knowing who had taken everything away from him and getting payback. It was all that mattered. Wasn't it?

Maybe prayer was what he needed, subconsciously as what good left in him was desperately trying to claw its way out. But he didn't believe in God. What God would allow such things; what happened to his mother and Arthur, and more importantly to him, making him this way causing hurt and grief to someone he actually loved?

Pray then. Pray to your new Gods, and I'll pray to my old ones.

And they are Revenge, Betrayal and Blackmail.

Jon shut his eyes, remorseful for thinking such thoughts in such a place. But how hypocritical, it seemed to him, considering what he had done. And he had done enough. It stung him still, remembering how her warm tears dampened the palm of his hands. How her heartbreaking pleas shook him to his very core. Yes, he had done enough.

Jon could hear the priest's smile. A warm, genuine and kind smile. “Yes, I suppose it is. Well, not to worry we welcome everyone here.”

Sinners are we and sinners we shall die. None redeemed. At least not me, Jon thought.

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

His eyes shifted to the floor and held his head low before standing up to leave Jon alone. He had been a priest long enough to know when he was not needed. And it seemed to him this dishevelled young man, with dark eyes and unruly curls probably cherished his moment of solitude before he walked in.

“Nice to meet you then. I shall leave you in your peace. I'm Father Ned and I hope if you feel like you ever need a place to breathe, you'll come here.”

“Thank you Father Ned. I'll take you up on that offer.”

And perhaps.. more.

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

“What? What do you mean you can't tell me? What is it?”

Sam clicked the mouse and whirled his chair around to face Jon. He hoped he had better news to tell him.

“You've got to promise me you're not going anything stupid. You can't. Promise me, Jon.”

“All right. I promise. So go on then... Oh for fuck's sake, Sam! Out with it!”

Sam turned and tapped on the computer screen.

“That man you've been looking for all this while? The one you think had something to do with your mother's death? That's him right there. The private investigator sent me this.”

Jon grunted and glared at Sam before setting his gaze on the screen.

“So that's him. I've got to look for him then.”

“And do what Jon? Ask him questions, interrogate him? I know what's going through your mind and I think it's best if you don't.. do anything at all.”

Jon looked at the name again. And the stealth pictures that came with it. He needed to decide now. Closure, that's it. Though it puzzled him why Sam was so concerned. He knew how much he needed this. Sam, of all people.

“And why shouldn't I?”

“You're mad, angry, pissed off. You've been like this ever since you started this whole investigation thing. Dude, listen to me, just don't do it.”

“And isn't that the exact reason why I should? It's called closure, Sam. Besides, who the hell is h-”

“He's mother fucking Ned Stark, that's why!” Sam objected.

Ned Stark. I'll remember that name for as long as I live.

“So, who's he?” Jon asked, though he had heard of him before.

“You're kidding right? A Westerosi legend. The lawyer who brought the Boltons to their knees and best friend of the late President Robert Baratheon. How do you not know all this?”

Jon stared at the pictures once more and shrugged. Probably a good thing he didn't. Makes it all the more easier. He was too busy trying to survive the past twenty years or so, doing his best on the cold hard streets than to mind about politics or gossip.

“But.. it looks like he isn't one anymore. Or retired. I mean, look the photos. He's a priest, Sam.”

“Dude give that guy a break. He just lost his wife and his two sons. He's found God and maybe that's how it's supposed to be. I mean, come the fuck on, Snow!”

And I lost my mother.

Jon didn't like the tone in Sam's plea. Why should one man's redemption be more important than his poor mother's? A life snatched away from him much too soon. The years spent in foster homes, in the orphanage and trying to seek some form of solace and God forbid it, even love - was a painful sorrow no one would ever understand.

“Stop fucking telling me about this man! His life is no more important than what my mother could have had! You don't fucking tell me how that's like, Tarly. No one can and best you don't say anything about this anymore.”

“No, Jon I didn't mean that!  You know that. Come on, Jon! Jon!” Sam's words fell on deaf ears as Jon grabbed his coat and left. Nobody tells me what the fuck to do. Not Sam, not even God. Whoever the fuck they are, Jon screamed in his head.

Days went by without as much as a call from Sam, Jon knew he was smart enough to leave him be but still he wished they could talk. A text or two dinged but Jon chose to ignore them. He had more important things on his mind. Rubbing his tired eyes, Jon decided to call it a night from staring at the computer.

The research and probing had gotten a little too mundane, the more he learned about Ned Stark, the more he uncovered - which was really how Ned Stark was practically Captain Westeros, a well loved man, an upright citizen with morals of steel. There was not an ounce of dirt on him except one tabloid article years ago that depicted him leaving the scene of an infamous night club with the late former President Baratheon. But that was only because the former late President was a bad boy with bad habits, it wasn't really about Ned Stark per se.

How are you connected to my mother's death? Jon wondered. Something's gotta give, no one can be that good.

Jon needed to do something different, he needed more. He had set out to find the truth and right now, he'd do just about anything for it. Anything.

The Stark family radiated pure happiness and perfection, from the web portrait alone, one that rudely yelled out at him.

Such a pretty family.

It made him sick to his stomach, to think that that could have been a portrait of him and his mother and Arthur Dayne. His own family where he was loved and protected. Arthur wasn't family but he was the closest father figure he had in someone and the only confidante his mother trusted. Arthur probably loved his mother too, Jon was certain. They were happy and Jon's life was perfect. Just like the picture of the Starks.

Till a note found in his mother's cold dead hands with a scribbled 'Eddard Stark' destroyed everything he held dear.

And there he was, Father Ned Stark.

Ned Stark, a name that made a six year old Jon an orphan that day and since then he made a vow. Devoting the rest of his life to avenge his beloved mother. Even if it meant hurting someone along the way. He was more than willing and growing up fending for himself went on to equip him with the skills he needed. Jon had years in preparation for this.

They've got to pay, Mama. Someone has to.

“Sansa! Sans! There's someone here to see you,” Jeyne called out from the bottom of the stairs.

Sansa almost jumped and dropped the pencil in her hand. Good thing she wasn't writing anything important or else she'd have to rewrite the notes.

That's weird. Who could it be? Sansa checked her watch again and grunted at the time. It was going to be the third time she was late this week.

“She'll be right down. What was your name again? Jay, was it?”

Jon nodded with a smile. “Yes, it is. I'm actually here for the caretaker position? I believe it was posted in the jobs section in the papers.”

Jeyne eyed him warily. She didn't recall putting an advertisement out for anything lately. If Sansa did, she'd definitely inform her. Yet not even a mention of it. Jeyne didn't quite like the idea of strangers coming up to the Stark's private residence looking for jobs. Regardless of how dark and handsome they turn out to be. But then again, perhaps she might be taking her job as Sansa's personal assistant a little too seriously to care this much.

I'm sure it's nothing, just a guy looking for a job.

“I see. Sansa did mention once that they needed a caretaker here to help with house and the dogs. Though that might have been a few weeks ago and the applications are closed. But maybe she hadn't found one yet. So.. you're okay with dogs though right?”

Jon shrugged. “Dogs? Sure, I love dogs. I have one of my own. Ghost, his name is. Big large white dog. He's a good boy.”

Jeyne nodded approvingly. “Well, all right then. I have to go and leave you in Sansa's good hands. I was just here to collect some paperwork. Nice to meet you, Jay. Oh, and good luck!”

Jon waved a polite goodbye as he closed the door and resumed waiting by the stairs. Beads of sweat were pooling on his forehead. Jon inhaled deeply. So close. He was so close and everything was going according to plan. Jon knew he was at the right place and at the right time and he was mightily pleased with himself.

That is, until - he saw her. Sansa Stark.

“Jay? Hi, sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Sansa. Nice to meet you.”

Nice indeed.

Fuck.

[smashbuddies]

Do it for Them: Pt. 10

“This the best you can do, pearl?”

“Please, you only wish it was!”

Daniel cartwheeled forward to dodge a knife flying through the air, and in return shot out a star. Its blades cut through the dirt as it shot across the ground, shape lost to the blur of momentum, aimed right for Mortar and his stupid cocky smirk. As expected, he leapt out of the way, but Daniel had a new little trick he’d been dying to try out.

As he landed on his feet, he held both his clenched fists forward, pressed together at first, only to split them apart, arms flying back in a wide arc and hands flattening out for flare. To his delight, the star followed his example, splitting into two smaller blades, both going even faster as they drifted into reckless turns and shot back his way.

Mortar appeared right in front of him, grin wicked, knife glinting in his hand, poised low to finish him off.

Daniel only grinned back.

The stars cut through Mortar’s form, and Daniel took delight in the split-second he got to see that stunned look before poof. A quick laugh escaped him- it had actually worked!

But it was a pyrrhic victory, as he too was cut down by his own blade.

Even inside the sanctuary of his gem, he could feel the humiliation plague him. So he hadn’t fully thought that out. But, it still worked. That move simply needed a little tweaking.

His Diamond would be so proud of him.

Daniel popped back into existence with the help of Cookie’s healing aura, nestled in his arms on the ground, a huge grin on his face as he took in the sight of Mortar glaring down at him. The aura lingered, making him feel bold. Or perhaps it was something else? Either way, he had a few choice words that he couldn’t hold back.

“Was that the best you could do, pyrite?”

Mortar sneered down at him, then let out a huff and offered a hand that Daniel eagerly took. Once he was on his feet, Mortar roughly elbowed him in the side- ouch, that would leave a mark- and said, “Not bad for an upper crust. Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”

“Michael.”

“Well, ya know what I mean,” he grumbled with an almost pout thrown Cookie’s way. “You’re not as good as me, probably won’t ever be, but not bad. For a Pearl.”

“Michael!”

Cookie turned to Daniel, eyes wide and face flushed, stammered words coming out of his mouth so quickly that he couldn’t quite catch them. Before this could continue on for too long, Mortar grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. Cookie visibly eased, all signs of frustration and anxiety melting away as he eagerly received the kiss. His arms even looped around Mortar’s body, pulling him in even closer.

Daniel watched this as impassively as he could. But a heated bloom sprung up in his gem. Unpleasant. Like it was never meant to be. Like it went against everything he was made to do. Like it was a vile thing he had to hide away, because of course he could never have a bad thought, no, that wasn’t fit for a Pearl.

His Diamond would hate it.

“Anyway,” Mortar said after he took his sweet time pulling away, that stupid smirk on his face as he held a stunned Cookie. “We’re done trainin’ for today.”

“So soon?” Daniel asked with one eyebrow raised, and his arms crossed. His words were carefully chosen to keep the heat inside, but his tone gave him away. “That didn’t seem long enough to fill your sadistic little ‘poof Daniel’ quota.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Cookie cut in as he blinked away the lingering effects of the kiss. A small smile took over his face, and he have Mortar a side-glance. “But… We, um, we have plans today. The human city has a nice little garden, and...”

His lips drew into a thin line.

Cookie’s eyes grew wide. “Unless! Unless, of course, um, you want to train more…”

“No, no,” he said and waved the two of them off casually, nose in the air. “I need to look over reports anyway. Check in with the troops and all that. You two have fun with your plans. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Only when they walked away, chattering, laughing, hanging off each other with so much love in their eyes, did the heat plaguing Daniel start to fade. A dull, throbbing ache lingered behind, and he couldn’t shake it off no matter how hard he tried. Not even when he was left alone, with nothing but the vast sky and the stars above him.

“I’m home, My Diamond!”

The doors slid closed behind Daniel as he padded into the throne room, hands laced in front of himself. He kept a gentle smile on his face, as if the portrait watching him could really see. As if they’d really judge him for showing the turmoil brewing beneath this facade.

“A lot happened today,” he said pleasantly as he took a seat on the throne. “Our troops are pushing against Homeworld’s invasion better than ever. For the most part.”

A wave of nausea washed over him. Against Red or Gray’s troops, the rebellion could easily win over. But that Shard Eater…

“Anyway,” he continued as he closed his eyes, pretending that His Diamond was there with him. Running their hand through his hair, touching on his gem in the perfect way to make him feel all pleasantly warm and safe. “We’re making progress. And we’re going to get you back. I’ve been training as hard as I can. You were right: Mortar is our most adept soldier. I knew I couldn’t have picked anyone else.”

The silence that followed was deafening. And just thinking about Mortar- and by extension, Cookie- made that vile feeling from before flare up.

“I’m surprised he and Cookie didn’t fuse again today. They were all over each other.”

Daniel laced his hands together in his lap. He had to control himself. But these feelings, he wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and cry and just let out how unfair it all was. Except he didn’t know what was unfair about it. And he knew he had to keep it all inside.

“I wonder what it’s like to… To fuse.” His face grew hot, hotter than his gem, and more pleasant. “Or kiss. Or have plans. Nice plans that have nothing to do with the war.”

From here, he couldn’t see the portrait smiling down on the room. So he summoned a star and projected His Diamond’s image onto it. Just as he perfectly remembered. And he sat there for a long, quiet moment while he basked in His Diamond’s radiance. No one could outshine them or snuff out that wonderful light.

But the other Diamonds tried. And now Daniel was alone, stuck halfway in the dark with nothing but the faintest glow to comfort him.

No fusion. No kisses. No plans.

“Why does Mortar get to have all that?”

The question left him before he could stop it, and he immediately pressed his hands to his mouth to keep from saying something else he’d regret. Mind abuzz, he scrambled for some reasoning, a defense that ultimately didn’t matter but he felt compelled to give anyway.

“I mean, of course, not that I want any of our gems to not have someone to love,” he rambled out and stood from the throne, nervous energy too much for him to keep still. He padded over to the window and looked down at the city below. “But, well, Mortar is such a brute, and I just... Seeing him and Cookie- I’m happy for them, but it feels awful and I don’t know why, it- it just makes me so angry.”

He summoned another star and reached into it. His hand closed around what he was looking for, and with a flourish, he pulled his replica sword from its depths. Even though it was forsaken as a weapon, holding it still brought him a sense of comfort. And he needed that right then.

“All our gems have someone to go home to,” he rambled on as the tip of his sword fell to the ground with a sharp clang. “All of them except me.”

That was wrong. Logically, he knew it was. He’d been there for weeping gems, the ones who’d been left behind while their partners went into battle. The ones who had to watch their loved one’s shards return to the Earth. He’d given honors, let those left behind keep mementos and hold privileges that the shattered couldn’t keep.

“I’m not the only one who’s lost someone, I know that, My Diamond.” He pressed his free hand to his face, eyes stinging from his vain attempt at keeping everything inside. “But everyone else has friends to turn to. Someone to hold them and tell them that everything will be okay, it’ll all be fine, we can get through this together.”

Tears slipped through his fingers, and his shoulders shook as he tried to hold back his sobs. “But what about me? I have to be strong. I have to lead. And they all put me on this distant pedestal. I’m Purple Diamond’s Pearl. Just as unbreakable as you are. I have to be.”

Everything hurt, and he dropped to his knees. Pressure, so much pressure. Layering and layering of cold isolation. Duties, obligations, everything that he couldn’t crack under. Each day that passed only made the weight heavier. Thoughts of His Diamond plagued him, bittersweet, unwavering, pushing him through the pain while inflicting most of it. This was who he had to be.

Right?

“I’m just Daniel,” he muttered through his sorrow, too cold to move, tears blurring the kind face of His Diamond. “I’m weak. I can’t do this alone. I… I can hardly imagine you doing this alone. We at least had each other, but now...”

For the millionth time, his last moments with His Diamond replayed in his head. And their final words to him echoed in his head.

“That’s an order, Pearl,” he repeated softly, but with a growing venom with each word. “Don’t even think about disobeying Your Diamond again.”

Slowly, he got to his feet with the help of his sword, using it like a crutch while his form tried to collapse again. A fire bloomed inside him, and he glowered down at the ground, unable to meet His Diamond’s eyes.

“That’s an order, Pearl?” he asked with disbelief. His Diamond never talked to him like that. Not genuinely. But they meant it right then. Truly meant it, that ferocity in their voice unwavering. “Don’t even think about disobeying Your Diamond again?”

His fists clenched at his side. Hold it in, Pearls don’t act like this, he was a perfect Pearl, meek and mellow, unbothered by anything that didn’t go against is Diamond.

“That’s an order, Pearl!?” A flawed part of him swung his sword up, and he pointed it right at His Diamond’s visage as it slowly melted into that glare he hated, haloed by inky black. “What kind of final words are those, Snail!? Why not ‘everything will be okay’!? Or ‘I just want you to be safe’!? No, I’m just a Pearl to you!”

As soon as the word ‘Pearl’ was spat out, he turned and thrusted his sword into the glass pane in front of him. Cracks spread from where it poked through, and Daniel watched in dawning horror. He put his hands over his mouth, stepping back and leaving the sword embedded, with the hope that the window would remain intact. 

Not even a second passed before the glass shattered and showered him in crystalline shards. They sliced thin cuts into his arms as he shielded himself, and he winced at the loud clatter of his sword falling to the floor.

The doors behind him slid open, followed by a familiar, shocked gasp.

“D-Daniel!”

In his daze, he was easily pulled away from the mess as a soothing aura washed over him. He glanced down and finally registered Cookie’s presence. Slowly, his eyes moved over to take in Mortar, still standing awkwardly in the doorway with a tray of… Something in hand.

After a minute, he found his voice as asked, “What…?”

Cookie looked up at him earnestly, concern shining in his eyes. “You looked upset earlier and… Michael and I thought that, um… After our date, we could come keep you company? The humans taught me how to make food, and we thought you’d like to try some.”

Those words were almost inconceivable. He stared, tears still falling down his face freely. Even so, the ache in his gem dulled for the first time in forever. Was Cookie using his power still?

For a brief moment, Cookie looked past Daniel. Then, softly, he said, “You really miss them a lot...”

Daniel’s whole body seized as everything he’d been feeling up until that point crashed against each other. Choking on his words, he just barely managed to get out, “M-More than anything. Everything I do is for them.”  His fists clenched, and his flaws pulled him from Cookie to glare at the image still on his star. “And they left me. The traitor, couldn’t even give me good final words, they... They only saw me as a Pearl right up to the end!”

“U-Um, you don’t know that,” Cookie said in a surprisingly firm tone as he grabbed Daniel’s arm and pulled his attention back toward him. But that confidence quickly drained out of him. “Snail, they… I’m sure they didn’t...”

“You didn’t know them like I did,” he muttered darkly, the tone not meshing well with his pleasant Pearl voice. “You didn’t hear what they said to me.”

Cookie had no reply. He looked lost, shaken, eyes wide and lip quivering.

“...Are ya kidding me? I thought pearls weren’t stupid”

Mortar stomped over, unperturbed by the glare Daniel was shooting his way, or the stressed look on Cookie’s face. He wasn’t quite as menacing with the block of pastel pinks and purples in his arms, but that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be argued with right now. As soon as Daniel opened his mouth, Mortar cut him off.

“Snail said all that to protect you,” he bit out in a tone that sure made Daniel feel dumb. “You realize that Shard Eater was dead-set on gettin’ ya, right? I was there, I saw it. I woulda said the same thing to Cookie if it was us. A lil hurt’s better than seein’ someone ya love get shattered. And as if they really wanted to say that ever, ya wouldn’t believe all the gushin’ they did when ya weren’t around.” His voice raised to a mocking pitch. “‘Daniel’ this and ‘Daniel’ that, ‘Daniel’s so great, so smart, he said something real funny the other day’.”

No. He didn’t want to hear it. The pain of knowing that they actually sacrificed themself for him, that was infinitely more unbearable than believing that they’d betrayed themself with those last words.

Cookie chose that moment to speak up, “I… I know it hurts… But I’m sure Snail is real sorry… Wherever they are, I imagine they must be as torn up over it as you are. And when we get them back, you two will be able to, um… Talk about it?”

At that moment, his will shattered. His Diamond. He’d such cruel things about His Diamond. The one gem who meant everything to him. What would they think of him now? Would they forgive him? He didn’t know. And he’d be asking that question indefinitely. Haunted by his own defective feelings until he could finally get closure.

But at least he wasn’t alone anymore. The gentle arms surrounding him- and even the hesitant touch of a hand on his back- proved that.

[mystic-messenger-writing]

Hi! First of all, I'm sorry for my bad English uwu.. I have always read request about a sad situation in which it affected a lot of MC, those of RFA went and they comfort her. I was thinking *And since I like angst content haha ;w;* what would happen if RFA + V and Saeran, had a heavy day, are very down or depressed, to the point that they don't speak, don't respond to chats or even interact with MC . What would MC do to comfort them? I love ur content, keep it up! 3

I really love how unique this request is! I like writing about comforting the RFA and friends because I want to give them the love that they deserves! So thank you for the request and I hope that you enjoy! ^^

Yoosung

Yoosung wasn’t expecting to feel so utterly depressed after visiting his cousin

He had finally come to terms with all of the horrible things Rika had done but he wanted to see her one last time

Without telling anyone, Yoosung went to visit Rika at the mental hospital

All she did was spit vile and hurtful words towards the younger boy, making him feel completely useless

You noticed that Yoosung’s normally bubbly personality drastically changed to one of somber

Not wanting to pry too much, you set up a game of LOLOL and a bowl of Honey Buddha Chips at his computer desk

Yoosung dragged himself to his room to see you gently patting his chair, giving him a soft smile

He didn’t say much but you could tell that your boyfriend was starting to feel some joy again

Yoosung never truly told you what happened to him to make him so depressed but he would always remember how precious you were to him, he didn’t need anyone else in his life besides you

Zen

Zen never would have imagined being depressed could make him feel so hopeless

After learning that he wouldn’t play any role in a popular upcoming musical plus having his motorcycle break down was awful

But to make matters worse, Zen’s parents decided to call him and rant on about how he was a disgrace to the family

He usually never took his parent’s words to heart, but today was different as their words felt true to him

You had never seen Zen so upset before, you missed his deep voice, upbeat attitude, and random singing

So you pressed his head against your chest as he finally let the dam break and the tears rolled down his cheeks

You gently hushed him, reassuring him that everything would get better as you combed through his long hair

When he composed himself, Zen apologized for being weak and thanked you for being there for him when no one else would

Jaehee

It was always the toughest time of the year when the day of Jaehee’s mother’s passing came around

But this year it seemed particularly worse since her work load kept piling up meaning more stress in her already busy life

Jaehee felt as though she didn’t have anytime to herself, that she was failing her mother and wouldn’t make her proud

When you found out about Jaehee’s depression, you decided to take her to a therapist

While it did help somewhat, you knew that she needed support from you most of all

So you would make her a large, warm cup of coffee and bring in some baked sweets while the two of you watched Zen’s musicals on DVD

You would put a blanket around both of you so that Jaehee would feel more at ease, which truly helped her

Jaehee would always have a piece of her heart that would belong to her mother but the rest would forever belong to you

Jumin

For being the so called man with no emotions, Jumin surprisingly had a large amount of anxiety in his heart

Having to become the perfect businessman and living up to everyone’s expectations would be rolling on anyone, including Jumin

After failing a particular important business deal, Jumin felt like he was utterly worthless

As much as he tried to hide his sorrow, you were the only one who could see through his netrual face

You made Jumin get a warm shower and when he came out, you presented him with homemade pancakes in the shape of a cat head

Jumin smiled at your silliness and already felt himself become happier and once the two of you finished, it was family cuddle time

You, Jumin, and Elizabeth all laid down on the massive bed with you holding your husband in your arms

Feeling your warmth and love would always be the only thing would always make Jumin happy and he made sure to always be there for you in return

Seven

Seven had recently failed his past two hacking jobs, both of which meant a huge blow to his agency

All of this stress and frustration took a toll on Seven, he completely shut down

He wouldn’t eat, sleep, talk, or even crack a cringy joke, he would only half-heartedly work

Seeing your boyfriend so down made your heart ache and you knew that you had to help him

So you would quietly sit next to Seven as he worked and helped relax him anyway that you could without disturbing him

You would rub his shoulders, pick out soothing music to listen to, bring him his meals, and even try to crack some of your own corny jokes

Seven truly appreciated your efforts and they genuinely helped him feel better and motivate him to finish his work

With you in his life, Seven knew that he could always overcome his depression and face whatever life threw at him thanks to your love

V

It was days like this where you felt V needed to learn how much of an incredible person he is

He was going through some old photos and stumbled across one with Rika and the twins on it

V must have stared at the photo for an hour, silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought about all of the sorrow and grief he put those boys through

He believed that everything was his fault, V completely shut himself off from everyone and wallowed in sadness

But you weren’t having it, you knew that it was solely his fault and you had to make him realize that

You walked into his room, noticing him hugging his knees to his chest with teary eyes, as you sat beside him and showed him the photos you gathered

They were of the RFA being together and all be happy or goofy, the two of you laughing at the one where Seven was trying to steal Elizabeth away from a very angry Jumin

V wrapped his long arms around you and quietly thanked you and at that moment, finally understood what true love was

Unknown

Saeran had plenty of good and bad days but today was one of his worst

After waking up from a nightmare, Saeran kicked you and Seven out of his room and demanded neither of you disturb him

You patiently waited for Saeran to calm down and open the door but he refused so you went to get a bowl of ice cream to coax him out

But you froze when you heard his muffled sobs coming from his room, you felt your heart tear apart

Seven finally managed to pick the lock to his brother’s door and let you enter to comfort him

Saeran weakly told you to leave but you refused, knowing that deep down, he needed your comfort

So you silently held him in your arms and told him all of the reasons why you love him while he ate his ice cream

The two of you spent the day laying in bed together, with Saeran finding comfort in your warm embrace

No matter what troubles or depressing thoughts plagued him, Saeran always knew that he could turn to you for comfort which is something that he would forever love you for

[madonnasdepends]

It really is the constant heart break for me. I really really thought this time would genuinely be different, to the point that I am surprised. Playing this flirt game with you for the past 4 months has been so fun and has brought me joy and enough for someone to ask why I’m so happy, it was you, you are the one that was making me happy up until this point. I’m really bummed that I can’t land a man. I’m bummed I couldn’t land you. You are so handsome and I vibe so well with you and now I just feel so left in the dust, I feel so sad. So heart broken. Why is this always me, why is this always happening to me, why can’t I fall in love with someone who will love me back, why is it even when I’m not making the moves that I still get friend zoned. Like I really am so surprised this hooened, bc I really thought this time was going to be the time that things fall into place for me, that I finally get to be with someone I like and likes me back, that I get to be with you, but no, it’s not like that. Idk what I have to do to feel loved, I’ve reached a point where I’m so depressed and feel so alone that it almost sounding good to just end things for myself, to the point that is scary and I should really just get the help I need, but I’ll probably just sit in my own sorrow and just deal with it in an unhealthy way. I want to un alive myself. What’s a life worth living if it is alone. I’m done. I’m broken. I can’t keep doing this to myself. Part of me really wants to just die and the other part of me is embarrassed that I want to die, I’m a coward. What will I miss out on if I die, love? What if it never comes? It’s been over ten years of wanting a relationship and I still haven’t had a solid boyfriend. When will ir happen?? Fucking when? Im so angry! It’s fucking vile how bad I want one. I guess it’s time to cope and find a way to deal with it. Im so frustrated.

[cold-war-essay-blog]

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley essay

Topic:\n\nAn blast to identificate the literal whale of the sm guile: Viktor Frankenstein or his putz.\n\nEssay Questions:\n\nWho is the signifi asst teras of the novel: Viktor Frankenstein or his peter?\n\nWhat was the look of the nut interchangeable?\n\nWhat pr neverthelessted Viktor Frankenstein from winning right for his actions?\n\n thesis Statement:\n\n superscript Frankenstein would assume neer born(p)(p)-again his wolf into a freak if he knew how to cognize and hook on responsibility for the whizzs we act upon to this world.\n\n \nFrankenstein by bloody shame Shelley analyse\n\n \n\nIntroduction: bloody shame Shelleys Frankenstein is a book with a deep subject matter that touches to the rattling m every. This sum implies that the endorser leave precisely non t exclusivelyy the story provided from the perspective of the bank clerk nevertheless alike reveal numerous hidden opinions and make a somebody-to-person interpretation of th e novel. star of its primary statements is that no angiotensin converting enzyme and only(a) is innate(p) a deuce and a goliath is created finished unwrap socialization, and the dish up of socialization starts from the wholesaler with the creator. It is winner Frankenstein that could non progeny the responsibility for his wight and was non qualified to take like of his child. self-respect and vanity were the qualities that frame victor Frankenstein to his uncovering of life: ...So some(prenominal) has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein- more, farthest more, bequeath I achieve: treading in the steps already marked, I w sorrow pioneer a new way, research unk at presentn powers, and lead to the world the deepest mysteries of introduction[p.47]. He could non cope with this baring and well(p) cut it. The calamity of master Frankenstein and the tragedy of his instrument is the same it is the tragedy of loneliness and confronting the world, to ilsome to find a place in it and deserve soulfulnesss discern. The zoology would have neer be fall d feature a daemon if it got the love it strived for. captain Frankenstein would have never converted his puppet into a dickens if he knew how to love and take responsibility for the ones we bring to this world.\n\nAccording to Mary Shelleys Frankenstein the dick becomes a reliable teras through committing a murder. It becomes a liquidator whose main(prenominal) goal is to visit. The savage avenges for having been abandoned by his creator and go forth all alone in the conflicting world that can non allow him hardly suffer on and have mortal to love. Obviously, the creature did non begin its life as a ogre however became one later on schoolmaster Frankenstein jilted it and refused to realize that he has to take treat of this creature from now and forever and be responsible. The creature was born a vulnerable reality into the world. It was simply born and a ttempt to assimilate the person who do him come, the one who needed him and love him. But when it saying the world did not see whatsoeverbody who at to the lowest degree gave him an limb to stand up. master Frankenstein treasured to exhibit life to a creature, but when he managed to do it the mantrap of the dream vanished, and non active horror and abuse filled [his] heart[p.57]. He was terrified of what he had created and ran by from his creature, leaving it all alone and brook. Victor Frankenstein made the low step into devising the savage a real monster by speed onward from it, not even accept it into this world. Victor ran absent for the prick was ugly, but the savage did not have whatsoever cruel intentions for universe as a newborn it was evil-free. The wildcat did not do anything braggy. All it did was it came into the world, or it would be more honest to rarify that it did not come on its own will but was brought to life. He came flavor for love and the firstborn thing he met was rejection. How does it feel for any living being to be jilted?\n\nThe animal ran away and tried to acidify to other deal. It did not want anything bad but simply attention and support. up to now, his visual aspect made population feel disgust and everybody tried to hurt him. The Creature could not chthonicstand wherefore it was treated so cruelly and suffered so much. It was completely uncaring and nobody c ard for this living being who wanted to be love so desperately! Such abject and constant refection moody the Creature into a real monster and the revengeful murderer of little William. The creature was not born a monster but the reject of men made him one. Everyone he false to dislike him, hated for nothing. And when he cancelled to Frankenstein begging for a mate he heard the quarrel that killed the last gains of wish in the abstrusity of his heart: fret ... do you hold up approach me? ... Be gone, vile dirt ball! or rather, checkout that I whitethorn trample you to disperse! ... Abhorred monster! teras that thou art! the tortures of hell are too small a payback for thy crimes. Wretched crucify! you reproach me with your creation; come on then, that I whitethorn extinguish the sack which I so negligently bestowed[p.68]. The Creature had nobody to live for and it was the point when revenge started being the impression of his life. He did not need heap anymore he on the nose became what they evermore believed him to be a monster. It is possible neither to say that the Creature was a monster from the very start-off nor accuse the Creature of anything for all it did it step forwarded into this world. The Creature came with a complete(a) heart and did not meet any love or at least sympathy from people, including his very creator. The Creature was so unhappy and became a monster barely because everyone treated the Creature as if they were born(p) monsters that have no feelings at all. \n\n demonstration: The Creature is not a real monster. It is just a victim. Just like Victor is the victim of the mistakes his parents did, and the Creature is a victim of Victors ill perception of reality. Its like an iceberg we see yet the top, yet the biggest sectionalization of it stays under the piss. The top is Victors creating a monster that killed all his dearly love people and what we see under the water - is real land of things: the indifference of people and the nature to umpire everything basing on the bearing without even essay to look inside. Nevertheless there is something that can be called a genuine monster without any suspect - it is the scorn and the cecity of people. Blindness to mistakes, to the suffer of other people, even to love What the reader learns from this book is that things are not forever and a day the way they appear to be. And what seems terrifying whitethorn turn out to be just the perturb of souls heart, just like the pain of the c reature that was ruling to be a monster and not being one from the begging became one at the end.If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Looking for a place to buy a cheap paper online? Buy Paper Cheap - Premium quality cheap essays and affordable papers online. Buy cheap, high quality papers to impress your professors and pass your exams. Do it online right now! '