#i love the idea of chaining someone to a wall because then i can just like. look at them

[moeblob]

What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?

What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.

[shelterskimmer]

*goes to sleep hoping to wake up in that collar chained to the wall*

giggles cutely as i chain ur limp body up in my living room ^_^

[the-offside-rule]

Charles Leclerc - (Scuderia Ferrari) - Your Hand Fits In Mine

Requested: yes

Prompt: 22) "I like how your hand fits in mine."

Warnings: none tbh

Charles Leclerc woke up in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains of Y/n's Monaco apartment. He smiled as he looked at the peaceful face of his girlfriend, who was still lost in the land of dreams. Careful not to wake her, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Y/n stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open to meet Charles' gaze. He grinned upon seeing her tired smile. "Good morning, sleepyhead." She yawned and stretched, "Morning. What time is it?" She asked. "Does it really matter when we have all the time in the world?" He replied.

Y/n sat up and walked over to the double doors that opened out onto her balcony and opened them, the Mediterranean breeze danced through the curtains, Charles Leclerc found solace in the sight of his girlfriend. Their love, like the winding streets of the principality, was hidden from the prying eyes of the world. "Come back to bed." He said and with little to no convincing, Y/n did.

As the morning sun painted the room with a warm glow, Charles lay entwined with Y/n, their laughter echoing off the walls of her cozy apartment. The soft sheets cradled them as they basked in the simple joy of each other's company. The pair watched as their hands moved around with the other, looking almost like a dance. "I like how your hand fits in mine." Charles whispered, the pair looking up to their hands as entwined as they were. "It's like they were made to be together." He murmured, bringing her hand to his lips and planting a tender kiss on her knuckles. "It's like the world stops spinning, and it's just us against the sunrise." With a contented sigh, Y/n snuggled closer to Charles, her head resting on his chest. "I love this whole romantic morning and all, but I really need to get up. I have work, remember?" He chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her back. "Work can wait. I have a better idea." He murmured, nuzzling into the crook of her neck and kissing her sweet spot. She sucked on her lower lip to hide a smile but mornings like this are what got her in trouble.

She pulled his head away and kissed him, before pulling away with a playful smile on her lips. "You say that every morning, Charles. I can't keep being late." Charles pouted. "But you look so perfect in the mornings. And my dreams of you just make me want to-" She kissed him again to get him to shut up, because if she heard his dreams, she wouldn't leave the apartment and he knew that. "I need to go." She whispered. "But you're so perfect, I need you." He got up on top of her, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on her lips. Y/n chuckled, her fingers dancing along the contours of his chest. "You're biased."

"Please, let me show you how perfect you are." Charles admitted, his lips finding hers in a lingering kiss. "Besides, who needs work when we can have moments like this?" She pulled away, a mock stern expression on her face. "I do, Charles. I have responsibilities, unlike some people." He feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Are you saying my job isn't important?" Y/n laughed, her eyes sparkling. "No, I'm saying you have the luxury of being a Formula 1 driver. I, on the other hand, have bills to pay." Charles sighed dramatically, pulling her back into his arms. "What if I call your boss and explain that you're having a 'morning emergency' and can't make it?" She raised an eyebrow. "A morning emergency? What's that?"

He grinned, his voice dripping with mischief. "Well, it's a term I just made up for when someone is desperately needed in bed for a dicking down." Y/n burst into laughter, shaking her head. "You're so horny, Charles." She laughed before Charles leaned over her yet again, his chain dangling from his neck and sparkling in the soft sunlight. "Or, here's another idea." He continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Quit your job, and you come to my races and we can have mornings like this eve morning." She sighed, a familiar response to his persistent suggestion. "Charles, we've been over this. I can't just quit my job."

"But think about it." He insisted, his fingers tracing patterns on her arm. "You wake up in a new city, the only worrying thing being what clothes to wear today, and a sexy Ferrari driver between your legs." Y/n looked at him, her heart torn between the practicalities of life and the allure of adventure. "As enticingas that sounds-" She paused, placing a hand on his chest. "I need a job so I can provide for myself. I am happy to quit if or when we have children but until then, there is no way I am quitting my job. Im just being responsible with my life." He sighed, feigning disappointment. "Fine, be the responsible one. But just know that the offer stands whenever you're ready to say yes."

Y/n gently extracted herself from Charles' lingering embrace, a smile playing on her lips. "I really have to go now, Charles." He sighed dramatically, giving her a theatrical pout. "Fine, fine. But you better make it up to me later." She bit her lip and leaned in, placing a lingering kiss on his lips. "I'll give you a night you'll never forget."

As Y/n made her way to the door, Charles couldn't resist one more impulsive move. He grabbed her hand, pulling her back for another quick kiss. "I love you." He whispered against her lips. Y/n blushed, reciprocating the sentiment. "I love you too, Charles." Reluctantly, he let her go, watching her leave the apartment. In a burst of energy, Charles dashed to the balcony, a sudden idea forming in his mischievous mind. As Y/n walked down the street below, he shouted after her. "Y/n!" She looked up to see her boyfriend, naked eith nothing but their bed sheets to cover himself. "Je t'aime, Y/n!" He shouted, his arms opened wide.

People passing by stopped and stared, their eyes widening at the sight of the famous Formula 1 driver proclaiming his love from the balcony. Charles, oblivious to the amused and perplexed onlookers, grinned widely, shouting once more. "Je t'aime, mon amour!" Y/n covered her eyes with her sunglasses to cover the slight embarrassment her boyfriend gave her, but still she blew a playful kiss towards the balcony, making a heart with her hand. Charles caught it dramatically, proclaiming once again that he loved her.

The spectators on the street exchanged glances, some snapping pictures of the unexpected romantic scene. Finally satisfied, Charles winked at Y/n, who was now laughing heartily, and retreated back into the apartment, leaving the crowd still buzzing with excitement. He couldn't help but revel in the spontaneity of the moment and the sheer joy of expressing his feelings for Y/n in the most unconventional way.

[misstycloud]

Love on a loop

What the hell do you do when you can’t seem to break up, no matter what you do?

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You stared blankly at him, a hundred questions ran through your head all at once. On the inside, you were panicking. You had experinced a range of emotions in just a span of a few hours; pain, regret, sadness, anger and great confusion.

All this happened while he, you boyfriend, simply looked at you with an unsure smile. He tilted his head and asked with a slight chuckle, “Are you okay?” When you didn’t answer, he decided to return to his previous question, of which you didn’t respond to either. “Ehm, do you want one egg or two? We only have three right now, but you can have the two, since I feel bad about always eating all the eggs.” He laughed.

You finally decided to speak. Your voice wavered a bit when you inquired, “What are you doing here?”

Your boyfriend paused his happy expression, and frowned. He glanced around as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. “I live here? Or have you gotten a mysterious case of amnesia?” He joked.

“No, you don’t- not anymore.” Your emotions turned to annoyance, and it was evident in your tone how displeased you were with him.

The irritation in your tone gave away that you really were angry at him and that it was not a silly attempt to be funny. What you could be upset about, he had no clue. He searched in his mind for anything he could’ve done to land him in the dog-house, but found it empty. There was nothing he could think of that would start a fight.

Your boyfriend switched off the stove and gave you his full attention. He asked in genuine bewilderment, “Love, is everything alright? Have I done something to make you mad at me- although, considering you liked me yesterday, I frankly can’t imagine how I could’ve fucked up so fast.”

Your mouth fell open. The audacity! “What are you doing? Why are you back here? I don’t get what you’re playing at but it is not funny. I just- what??” You pointed towards the door. “Get out!” You didn’t like to shout, however, this situation demanded some force, whether it was pleasant or not.

It was evident on his face that your yelling had hurt him. That sad, hopeless expression always made you melt in the beginning of your relationship. Everytime you would fight, he would put it on full display and immediately after you’d feel bad and apologise for whatever the fight was about. He stayed quiet as he untied the apron around his waist and hung it on a chair.

“Hey….I don’t know what this is about- seriously, I don’t! But you need to tell me if somethings wrong, I can’t help fixing it otherwise.” He held his arms up in surrender and began approaching you.

“No, don’t come closer, you need to go! Get out.”

“Love, I’m gonna hug you now. Is that okay?” He continued his advance. The way he spoke to you reminded you of someone trying to soothe a frightened animal; yes, you were freaking out- because of him! He was the one acting weird.

You backed up against the wall. “I don’t want your hugs- no, don’t touch me!” You felt a shiver down your spine as the familiar embrace surrounded you.

Your attempts to pull away proved fruitless, his grip was like iron chains. There was no way you could get free. Still, your small tugs continued even after you’d exhausted all of your strength. Your boyfriend stroked you hair, undoubtedly to calm you down. It was meant to be comforting, but the only thing you felt was uneasiness.

This was crazy. You had no idea what was going on. You were absolutely certain that the two of you broke things off for good yesterday.

You’d waited for him to come home that day, which he did, all happy of course; now he was able to see you. You had decided to cook his favourite meal in preparation to soften the blow. It was unlikely it would do anything to help, but it was worth trying anyway. You recalled how his mood turned from happy to totally elated. He chuckled and asked if there was any special occasion(it was, although not in the way he wanted).

You say him down and let him eat himself half-full before you broke the news to him: you were planning on leaving him. He took it surprisingly well compared to the expected reaction. Of course, there was the crying and self-blame, but after that he seemed to accept your decision with a sniffle. He was kind enough to let you have the apartment, he insisted even as you said that there was no need to concern about it yet and you could decide later on. He packed his essentials in a bag and threw the rest of his belongings into boxes and moved out the same evening. Again, you explained he didn’t have to but he said it was fine; he wanted to be out of your hair as fast as possible.

He seemed fine. There was no yelling at you and no big storm that came. So you let him leave(to a friends place, he said) and after a couple drink, you went to bed. The day had stressed you out to the point of exhaustion.

So why was your ex back in your apartment, and why did everything look the same like before, it’s as if yesterday never happened. Because, it did…right?

“It’s alright, sweetie. You’re safe, I’m here to protect you so don’t be scared.” He let go of you just enough to look up at him. “Mind telling me what got you freaked out this morning?”

“Yes: YOU.” Sending him a furious scowl, you said, “You are what’s got me so freaked out. Mind telling me why you are back?”

His expression was mixed with dejection and confusion. “I’m sorry. I really don’t understand what you mean.”

“Don’t play fucking dumb. We broke up. You moved out. Explain why you’re here and why-“ you gestured around the apartment “- did you put up all your things again? We are over, you need to accept that and move on.”

You wouldn’t call yourself a mind reader, however, it was easy to see that your eruption shocked him and sent his mind into a downwards spiral.

He spoke with urgency. “What? Broke up? Why would we do that? I don’t-“ he looked away and inhaled deeply. “I would never leave you.” Staring into your eyes, he asked in a quivering voice, “Are you not happy with me, is that it? Please, make me understand.”

“We already had this conversation-“

“When?” He interuppted you.

“Yesterday!”

He shook his head. “I think I would remember an important conversation like this. Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”

You gaped at him. “It wasn’t a dream- I would know if it was. It was real and it happened. You are playing me, because what? Because I told you the truth that this is not healthy? This is not what a relationship should be like.”

“How is this not a good relationship? I love you and you love me. Is anything more needed?”

Your boyfriend could seemingly not honestly comprehend your point.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “A relationship can’t be when two partners are so dependant on each other- like we are. We need other people too, it can’t be just us forever. Like, my friends don’t even bother to invite me to stuff anymore because I’ve always had to say ‘no’ because I’m constantly doing something with you. Can’t you see, I’m spending every waking moment with you? Hell, I barely talk to my family anymore.”

“I’m fine with only being with you. I don’t care about seeing anyone else, you’re all that matter to me. I don’t need other- is it not the same for you?” You noticed the tears brimming his eyes.

Sighing, you let yourself be honest. “No. It’s not enough for me. I’m sorry, but I can’t let my entire life be ruled and centered around you.”

The air was still around you. It was quiet. While you’d previously desired him to shut up, now you found yourself willing to do anything to make him say something. Finally, he spoke.

“Oh, wow. Okay.” His attention was focused on the floor. “I-I’m sorry, Love, I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t mean for you to- you know.”

“It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean for me to feel bad. And besides, it’s partly my fault too. I can’t put all the blame on you.”

You ex tried attempted a little laugh, it came out forced and not at all smooth like he’d imagined. “I dunno what kind of dream you had, but maybe it was a sign- for us to…move on and stuff- I’m not mad though, I want you to understand that.

“Yeah.”

“Ooof, I guess that it’s also a sign for me to move out?”

You nodded. He was obviously depressed, however, he still tried smiling for you. You supposed he didn’t want you to feel bad. Within two hours he was ready to go. He sure was a fast packer when he wanted to.

Just like in your dream, you told him he didn’t need to move out directly, and similarly, he also said it was no bother. After he went, you breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed on your (formerly shared) bed.

It went well, didn’t it? You thought.

He agreed to break up without any fight. It was good. You could relax. You closed your eyes and let sleep come to you.

What you weren’t prepared for was to be awoken by the smell of cooking. You groaned and rolled out of bed. Checking the clock you saw that it was still a little early. You followed the noise to the kitchen.

“Hey, I was just about to wake you up. Do you want one egg or two?”

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This fic didn’t really turn out exactly like I wanted to. Sorry if it seemed a little rushed at the end. Hope it’s still acceptable tho

[the-witty-pen-name]

Love is Blind (Part 3)

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut in later parts (part 4), reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use, descriptions of bullying & people being jerks but like also very overdone tropes, mentions of smut

A/N: Please let me know if you liked it!! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to fangirl with me over these two because I cannot stand them at this point. LOL Or if you want to share any ideas/predictions for upcoming parts with me or other ideas for future stories with Eddie, I would love to hear them. Also, if I forgot to include a warning that should be included, please let me know!

Series Masterlist

“Eddie.” 

“Hey, Eddie.” 

“Earth to Eddie.”

“EDDIE.” 

“Shit! Sorry,” he says, breaking out of his thoughts and coming back to reality. He stares at his notes in his DM folder and he literally has no idea where the campaign has left off. He clears his throat and awkwardly flips through the pages. “Umm..”

“We just made it to the fishing town and we were tasked by a local merchant to kill a sea serpent that’s poisoning the local fish in exchange for..”

“Oh yeah,” he interjects, grabbing the correct script he needs to continue. “Uh, did you roll..?”

“Are you kidding me, man! What the hell?” Gareth exclaims, exasperated. “What’s wrong with you today?” 

Eddie’s face turns pink, shaking his head and ignoring the question. He was not going to admit to being distracted. He’s not embarrassed to talk to the guys about you, but he hasn’t told anyone he signed up for the study. He didn’t want to admit he was desperate or lonely, he’s too proud. He knows his friends don’t care, but it’s a mental block he can’t pass. 

“Nothing, I’m good. Just let it go,” he says defensively. 

“No way. Fucking spill it,” Jeff laughs. 

Eddie racks his mind for the most sane way to answer their questions. He sighs, pushing a mess of his curly hair out of his face. 

“Who is she?” Gareth asks, raising an eyebrow. 

***

DAY FOUR

“I’m mad at you,” Eddie says, and you roll your eyes. 

“What did I do now?” You ask, playful sarcasm evident in your voice. 

“You’re throwing me off my game”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that.” 

“Obviously because I’m really cool and popular,” he jokes, “I’m a Dungeon Master as you know.” 

“Yup, I’m familiar,” you toy. 

“My friends called my ass out so many times last night for not paying attention and I kept fucking up.” 

“I don’t appreciate you pinning this on me,” you chuckle. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Lies!” He says in a bravado. “You are the distraction! You have managed to weasel your way into every aspect of mind- I hope you’re proud of yourself. I’m probably going to be dethroned. My reign is over.”

You bite your bottom lip, to hold back the goofy smile you know is creeping over your whole face. Never before has anyone made you feel like this. The notebook to keep track of other “dates” is long forgotten. You only want to continue talking to Eddie. You wonder if any of the other people you spoke to felt a connection this strong. You’re dying to know if there are other people who feel as good as you right now. 

“What were you thinking about?” you ask shyly. You can hear the way it makes Eddie stop in his tracks. You assume he wears some sort of chain on his pants cause you can hear it when he paces, but suddenly, his end of the wall falls silent.

“How honest do you want me to be?” he asks, suddenly sounding shy. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I could go the cheesy, romantic, ‘I was thinking about you’ way- which is true. Or, I could be brutally honest because ‘I was thinking about you’ in this context has much more implications than that.” 

“You’re confusing me,” you laugh, “just tell me.”

“Do you ever fantasize about when we get out of here? In like, a you know-”

“Like sexually?” you ask, throwing him a bone. He was drowning. 

“Yeah,” he admits, and you can hear the chain on his pant leg as he fidgets. 

“Yes,” you answer honestly, “I do.”

“I think about it all the time,” he says, the confession spilling out, “The fact that I can’t touch you is driving me fucking insane. It’s not even like just like the thought of getting to fuck you- it’s like being close to you and like feeling your body heat, or like the weight of you sitting on my lap, what it feels like to just touch your skin- just everything that we’re being denied. I don’t even have a visual in my head to go off of it’s just like- I don’t know, man…”

You wince at the mention of sitting on his lap. “I don’t know if you’d want me on your lap for a long time..,” you sound defeated. 

“Um, don’t speak for me,” he cuts you off, playfully. “Any man who doesn’t want the full weight of his woman on his lap is a fucking idiot. Ugh, I don’t even think you understand just how amazing it is. I don’t care if you try to fight me on this, princess. You’re sitting on me, and I will love every second of it.” 

“I’m not thin, Eddie,” you whisper, feeling defeated. You hear him blow a raspberry and then he knocks on the wall. 

“I… don’t… care,” he emphasizes by drawing out each word. “You need to believe me. I couldn’t care less about your weight, your height, your hair… whatever  it is. I like you! And that means I like every part of you.”

His voice begins to raise, like he is yelling up, “If these fuckers would realize we’re done already and let me out.” He then lowers his voice like he’s looking back to the wall. “I want you. The experiment fucking works, I wish I could show you what you do to me cause maybe then it’ll finally stick. I’m going out of my mind that I can’t touch you and show you how much I want you, your body, everything. Do you need me to spell it out?” 

“Would you have still found me attractive if we met outside of this experiment?” you ask, “I bet you wouldn’t have even looked my way if you saw me at a bar or something.”

“Sweetheart,” he coaxes, “absolutely. I know that I would’ve been annoying the shit out of you for your number. You’d have been the one to reject me, I guarantee it.” 

“I would have never,” you reply. 

“So if it’s possible for you to know that you wouldn't have rejected me without seeing me,” Eddie muses, “why can’t you believe the same for me?”

“You haven’t asked me a single thing about my appearance,” he continues, “Do you care how much I weigh? Do you care if I’m short?”

“Not at all. I haven’t thought about it,” you admit. 

“I haven’t either. Now, please let me have my fantasy of you sitting on my lap please,” he whines, “I need something to get me through the day, Christ.” You laugh at his fake annoyance. 

You’re so happy at how he’s able to talk you down. It amazes you how he’s able to see through the insecurities and brings you back down to Earth. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, settling back into the couch and getting comfortable. You rest your head back. 

“I don’t know, basically, we’re in the middle of the campaign- I literally spent weeks writing it,” he continues, “and I literally just can’t stop thinking about how amazing it would be if you were there. I’m just sitting there, thinking about what it would feel like to just have you sitting on my lap while we’re playing and then I’m thinking about how I want to feel lean back on me and I’d have my arm around your waist holding you, and maybe I’d rub little circles on the side of your thigh and I thought about how soft you probably feel and then suddenly I’m sporting the most embarrassing boner which thankfully no one saw- Fuck, this is what you’re doing to me.”

***

“Is there any way to end the trial early?” Eddie asks, sitting in the interview room. There’s a man putting a pulse oximeter on his right index finger and another testing his blood pressure with a monitor on his left side. 

Two other technicians sit across from Eddie, taking notes from Eddie’s answers on a clipboard. They have tested his levels of dopamine and norepinephrine. They’re taking extensive notes on Eddie’s physical reactions to you, and the same is done to all of the candidates- including you. They continue to ignore Eddie’s questions as they ramble on about his levels of oxytocin. 

“In order for us to gather all of the information necessary, this isn’t possible,” one of them finally answers. 

“But I’m telling you how I feel- I’m telling you it works,” he insists. 

“Mr. Muson,” one says, closing a file folder that contains his charts. “This is a study in brain chemistry. You agreed to participate for the designated number of days and in exchange you’d receive compensation. Your conversations between yourself and the other candidates is not our business, nor what you choose to do afterwards. Our job here is to collect data, not the details of your personal life.” 

“I can’t believe this,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. He pulls off the oximeter and grabs his jean jacket. He walks out, despite their protests, flipping them off as he goes. He couldn’t care less about the lousy $200. As far as he was concerned, they poked and prodded the two of you enough. 

Of course, he did show up the next day. Promptly with a big grin on his face, he walked in with a happy go-lucky attitude that the entire lab team was secretly sick of dealing with. These sudden outbursts and dramatic tirades were becoming a staple of Eddie’s interviews and they equally couldn’t wait to be done with him. 

***

DAY FIVE

“Are these dice?” You ask with a chuckle, opening the small, black velvet bag that’s been left for you on the table in the room. You empty the bag out into your hand and watch as the dice roll into your palm one at a time. They’re all red and shimmer as you move them around in your cupped hand. 

“Well, I wanted you to have them,” you hear his voice explain from the other side of the wall. You’re beaming as you carefully pour them back into the bag and tie it off. 

“This is so sweet, Eds,” you marvel. “I love them.” 

“I also brought my guitar and like in a non-douchebag way I was kind of hoping to play something for you,” he says, his guitar perched on his lap. “I’ve just been working on this song and I wanted your opinion on it.” 

It's surprisingly soft sounding. You were expecting heavy guitar, something really metal based on what Eddie has told you about his music taste and his band. It’s slower paced, like a dreamy, slow rock ballad. 

You wished you could see him, observe how he looks when he’s concentrating or how his fingers look strumming against the cords. You just know he has the most beautiful hands. You imagine his fingers and try to visualize them flexing as he strums. You’re so distracted by it that you almost miss him singing a verse. 

“It’s not done yet,” he prefaces, still strumming. “I’m still working on the lyrics so don’t think too much about them, just like the meaning and the melody you know?” 

“Yeah totally,” you hum in agreement. “I think it sounds great.” He smiles at the praise. 

***

Before

You anxiously sit by the front window, peeking out between the blinds occasionally. You smooth out the skirt of the new dress your mom bought you, and you make sure your hair is still how you requested. Your mom let you wear makeup and you picked eyeshadow that matches your dress and you feel like a million bucks. It’s your ninth grade formal, and the star of the JV basketball team asked you to be his date. 

The minutes tick by and the time changes from reasonably late to stood up. You still hold out hope, and reject your parents' offers to just drive you to the dance. It’s been 45 minutes now, and you still hoped he’d be there. It was long past an hour that you admitted that he wasn’t coming. 

The following Monday you learned the whole thing was a prank, and he never wanted to ask you to the dance. It’s in the school paper that he’s at the dance, dancing cheek to cheek with one of the cheerleaders, who you can’t help but compare yourself to. 

***

Eddie is sitting at the middle school cafeteria table alone. He’s about a hundred pages into the Hobbit and the crusts of his peanut butter sandwich are forgotten about on the crinkly brown paper bag Uncle Wayne packed his lunch in. He’s long forgotten he’s sitting alone, far too engrossed in the story to care, when suddenly his head is yanked back by someone tugging on his t-shirt. 

“What’s up, Freak?” the voice asks before shoving Eddie back towards the table. He catches himself on the edge before his head comes in contact with the surface. He winces as anger boils up inside him. The three jocks laugh amongst themselves until a familiar voice shoos them away. 

“Sorry about them,” she says apologetically as Eddie looks to see her. Chrissy. He notices how she glances from him to the cafeteria table where the cheerleaders sit, and Eddie knows she doesn’t want to be seen with him for too long. 

“You can go, I’m fine,” Eddie says, forcing a laugh to make her feel better. “But, uh, I wanted to ask you-” 

“Okay, thanks,” she says, cutting him off and practically skipping to sit next to the prick who shoved him. Eddie recoils as the jock’s arm wraps around her. Eddie rolls his eyes and gets up to have lunch outside. Along with the remains of his lunch, he shoves the necklace he meant to give her in the bin. He’d stayed up past his bedtime, Wayne showing him how to drill a small hole into the top of one of his guitar picks to put a metal jewelry loop through so it could be put on a silver chain. 

***

You’re sitting at the table in the dimly lit restaurant and sipping on your cocktail when you see him walk in. He matches the description your friend gave you, and you feel yourself smile at how cute he is- definitely living up to the hype. Your friend spent weeks convincing you to go out on this date- one of her boyfriend’s best friends. They’re in the same fraternity. 

You can see as he walks into the dining room, he’s looking around trying to find his date. You offer a smile when he makes eye contact, and you offer a small wave. 

“James?” You ask, “you’re exactly like how Donna described you.” He offers a polite closed lipped smile, and a nod, taking a seat across from you without saying anything. 

As the date continues, you notice you’re doing a lot of the talking. You ask him questions and you’re met with a lot of one word answers. He looks detached, checking his watch and his attention seems to be wandering throughout the restaurant at anything but you. By the time your entrees arrive, he yawns. 

“I’m sorry, did I do something or say something?” you ask, hesitantly.

“No, no you’re good,” he says, straightening his posture like it would correct the behavior he’s been exhibiting. 

He pays for dinner, and you ask if he’d like to do this again sometime (just to be polite, you knew it was going nowhere). He sucks in air from between his teeth, and lets out an exhale. 

“You’re a nice person,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets as he waits for the valet to bring his car. “I’m sorry, but you aren’t really my type. Tom didn’t tell me anything about you really. I just felt like we didn’t click.” You notice the way his eyes scan your body, the unspoken awkwardness of you knowing what he isn’t saying. You nod, and say strained goodbyes as he gets in his car. You wished you were more surprised. 

***

Eddie is met with dirty looks when he approaches a girl at the bar. He feels her eyes on his tattoos and on his clothes, judging him. He sees her friend, who's also looking at him, lean in and whisper something and they both laugh. He knows the joke is on him, yet again. 

He opts to hang where he is, leaning against one of the high top tables, when he watches another guy approach her. He’s muscular, of course he is, and Eddie looks down at his own torso in comparison as this guy’s abs strain his shirt. Eddie scoffs, but now feels incredibly insecure at how his own shirt hangs loosely on his figure. 

***

DAY SIX

“Are you still worried about tomorrow?” Eddie asks, playing haphazardly with his rings as he sits with his forearms rested on his thighs. 

“A little,” you admit sheepishly. “Are you?” 

“More excited than nervous,” he replies honestly. “This whole thing has been fucking wild,” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Insane,” you agree, laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I just wanted to ask, no pressure,” Eddie says, clearing his throat, “Uh the other day, when we talked about, you know- what’s gonna happen when we see each other…”

“Yes?”

“You said to not hold back, I don’t remember exactly what it was but along the lines of ‘I don’t want you to hold back. Just whatever feels right to you in that moment, do it. Kiss me, touch me, I’m down for everything.’ Or something. I just want to make sure…”

“You don’t remember exactly, huh?” you tease. 

“Is that still what you want?” he asks earnestly. 

“Without a doubt,” you smile.

PART 4

TAGLIST

@woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @ali-r3n @cherrycolas-things @hellfirebabe666 @trixyvixx @stardancerluv @i--wont-run-this-time @mewchiili @muamazon4 @1975lily @sadbitchfangirl @strangerthings36 @fanficfanatic000 @andrearose89 @sosawwycantrelate @animechick555

[genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles]

i would like to request a yandere scenario but oh no it's really really sad. if you can, i would want to see yandere kazuha, childe, tighnari like regretting breaking reader. like reader keeps getting hurt by the yanderes until they feel nothing and at first the yanderes didn't mind it thinking they were obeying them but then they start feeling guilty for breaking you because now you aren't expressing any emotions, no matter what they do.

all in all, very very angst at the end

<3

OMG I LOVE THIS ANSGDYNRDRINWONGHer. You going make me cause drama for no reason and go in my emo phase and it will be all MY FAULT. And yours too, but mostly mine. Trigger Warning: Vomiting, force feeding, Privacy violation, Not eating, and etc of that nature.

Kazuha ╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅─ ⋅ ⋅──╮

You were once a free spirited person, wild, and challenged the world. Nothing could shake you. You were fierce and rebellious. You had fire in your eyes Now Kazuha was staring at your lifeless body, as you sat on the bed staring at nothing, with a chain collar and leash on your neck attached to the wall. Kazuha had a fear of losing you, ever since he lost his precious friend to Raiden Shogun. He saw how wild you were, as his anxieties got the best of him. Kazuha restricted you, to where you went, how you got there, he would lose his temper on you if you did anything rash or reckless.

Everyday, he would fight with you. Everyday, he would take a piece of you one by one, in front of your face, with his own hands. Your childhood friend who was a man, that you were *way* too close with? Gone. Doesn’t matter how, or why. Gone. Your family who is taking way too much of your time? Gone. Your pets that you admit that you would drop anything for...indirectly including him? Gone. However Kazuha fell in love with the rebellious free spirited person you were, you fought alongside him, taught him new tricks in battle, you were incredibly agile and intelligent. Well..not anymore. Kazuha stared at your lifeless body, as you were alive, but you weren’t responding. Your eyes were greyed out, you refused to even digest food, as when Kazuha tried to feed you, it just fell out of your mouth. Kazuha wiped your mouth, and coo'd you. "Come on my love, you desperately need to eat. I can’t stand you losing so much weight this fast. Don’t make me shove this down now..." Kazuha, frustrated with himself, with you with the idea that everything will be the same after everything he had done, he cried on your lap. However, you felt nothing but a warm lump of weight.

Childe ╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ════ ❀•°❀°•❀ ════ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══════╗

Childe had you locked up in a small cage, all of it decorated in pink and cute attire. However...that dead face of yours didn’t go along with the theme. You were dressed in pink and purples. The cage was beautifully decorated, as you were a little princess in her little cage. However, you used to be a tomboy who hated girly clothing. You loved fighting, you loved challenges, you loved eating. You were incredibly independent, and the part that bothered Childe the most, is that you had a generous amount of male friends. You liked male friends as company, as it served better than female. They understood you, and your style.

Childe was someone with quite a temper when it was triggered. And it was triggered a lot when he sees your hand on their shoulder, back, and even hand. No matter how many times, he had threatened your friends with his glare, balde, his "devoted loving" eyes, nothing seemed to work. He had to do it. It was either he murdered all of them, however of course you didn’t want that. So, he was left with no choice but to betray your trust and carrying you into a cage while you sleep. He placed heating pads in there for course. Along with pillows. Of course, he would feed you three meals a day, He would always feed you your favorite meals. He would bathe you, dress you and of course he refused to let you use the bathroom so...there were other alternatives to that. However, everyday, your privacy was violated, no matter how much you scream to ask him to stop, respect your boundaries, let you go, However, he just continues to take care of you, way past your comfort. You begged him to let you go, let you have your friends back, your life. You hated all the pretty things he forced you to wear because he wanted you to be his one and only princess. However, all of that is too late, as he stared at you, pale, lifeless, leaning against the cage bars. You no longer complained or screamed. You no longer cared. You became a shell of yourself. The cage is all you knew. You didn’t even look at anything anymore. The world around you were hollow and disconnected. "Don't look at me like that...you asked for this! You wanted this! I had no..I had no choice..." Childe spoke in a stern and angry voice, however, the tears streaming down his face couldn’t mask the regret in his voice.

Tighnari └── •✧• ──── •✧• ──── •✧• ────•✧• ──┘

Tighnari was angrily force feeding you hypericum perforatum with frustration, as you lay there. None of his medicines and herbs were working. This herb was specifically meant to treat your mental state, more so, assumingly your depression. However, you were beyond depression. You were b̷̢̐ṟ̷̹͂̇o̵͍̤͆͆̉̎k̴̗̝̆̑͊̚è̶̟͖̺̓̅̈́n̵͎̣͌̀̇͜. So no form of treatment can really help you, can they? Despite Tighnari knowing this, he was still trying to force feed you this herb, hoping you can be as cheerful and happy as you used to be. However, there was nothing. There was nothing but vomit around him, as when force feeding you, your body would only make you vomit the contents out on him. Tighnari screamed in frustrated, as he cupped your face as tried to coo'd you. "Why...Why are you like this? I just did what was best for us! You can’t keep doing this forever! You are supposed to by my happy little flower forever!" He complained and looked into your dead eyes. You were just a wonderful gardener, who loved plants, who loved trees. You loved the green nature, and you grew them as you please. You were such a gentle women. You were kind, funny, and you always were laughing and smiling. You had a proficiency in making medicine, and poison. However, you created medicines to help travelers and townspeople. Despite Sumeru having free health care, you wanted to help those who were unfortunate. Tighnari fell in love with that. He wanted you very badly. And just when he got you in his arms, you went limp. He got too greedy. He was constantly scolding you. He wanted to grow your gardens only for him, and make medicines only for him. He wanted all this to himself. He wanted you, his precious flower, to himself. He got too greedy, and locked you in his house. He wanted you to satisfy his needs and his only. Funny how that worked out for him, huh?

[birb-boyo]

LU BACKROOMS???

This is basically me describing backrooms based on the Chain, one on the safer side and one deadly and how to survive them :]

@trippygalaxy @vio-starzz @mushr0oms-and-m0ss @shadowlinktheshadow @raven-does-artstuff-894 @treasure-goblin idk who cares about this but I spent all day on it-

Time

His first liminal space is fairly safe. You can’t die unless you do something diabolical.

His safe room like would be basically like this

You fall down somewhere, probably on your walk home, but you pick yourself up and see that this is very much not the side of the road. This is a grassy field.

There weren’t many grassy fields where you lived. And even those fields were no where near as expansive as this one.

Upon looking around, you see a giant wall and a drawbridge. You start walking to it, thinking that you somehow fell hard enough to pass out.

You reach Castle Town and get weird glances from many. While you’re scouting the area, you spot a little boy in green picking up random dogs. You look at him weird when he puts one dog down and chases after another one.

The boy catches you staring and with one glance, you’re suddenly in that big grassy field again

So yeah, if bro looks at you, you get set back. After a while, this space will easily drive someone insane. This is because no matter what you do, you will meet him, and you both will meet eyes, and you’ll be sent back to the beginning.

So in a way, Survival Rate: 98% but it’s gradual and you might get out of there before you go insane

For his “You’re most likely gonna die” room

I wanted to incorporate Majora’s Mask into it, saying that the masks are hunting you.

There goal is to capture you and bring you to Fierce Deity. He thinks that you killed Link.

But you didn’t because this little kid who told you that he was who the deity was looking for is literally following behind you-

This kid could be regular young Link or Ben Drowned, though it would change the survival rate massively

Survival Rate for young Link: 67%

Survival Rate for Ben Drowned: 15%

This is because the only way to stop being hunted and/or not die is to present a piece of Link to the deity when you’re eventually caught

If it’s Link, he’ll accept it and call the masks off and you’ll be free to move on to the next hell or, if god loves you, you’ll go home

If it’s Ben, you better be fast on your toes because you’ll be hunted until you die or get out of there.

I want to also want to add that the masks don’t just pop up out of no where when they find you.

You know how you have to follow the music in order to learn Saria’s Song? Don’t do that. You’ll be caught

When they emit the Song of Healing, run, Link/Ben will be right on your trail and even if he wasn’t when you stopped running, he’ll always find you even if he leads a mask to you

I forgot to mention that Link/Ben will give you hints as to how you need to give Fierce a piece of his tunic or hair or something close to it

Also that Link/Ben physically can not get close to FD as they are, as the boy says, “part of the same soul”

Twilight

Idea given from @tiercel13 and @link-posting

That whole game has this unsettlingly warm ethereal quality where it's like- you're comfortable but uncomfortable at the same time and it's so weird

But basically I would say somewhere like a large field that's in perpetual twilight. You've never seen it before but it feels safe and familiar, like you've been there a thousand times. Still, there's something just slightly off, and it prevents you from ever being able to truly relax

It’s a village, deserted in the canyons, it’s wooden houses crumbling with time and weathering

Survival Rate: 100%

I think we all expected this one but you’re being hunted. It’s just you, the flora, the fauna, and a big wolf trying to kill you

It’s Wolf Twi but it’s not wolf Twi. Like, that’s the Blue-eyed Beast alright, but that’s definitely not Twilight. That’s a Wolf hardened by the need to survive. A need to eat.

The thing about this room is that it’s very survivable, but only to a select few people

For people who know how to manage in the woods, who know how to make fires without lighters, who know how to properly cook wild animals without utensils and iron, for those who are experienced in the wilds, they have a much easier time surviving this

But for those who are always inside and have little to no outside knowledge, you’re cooked almost immediately

This is a genuine hunt. This wolf can hear god knows how far, this wolf can track you with even the faintest scent

The only reason why the survival rate is as high as it is, is because it hesitates.

That’s how many survive their first encounter with the wolf, the wolf hesitates to take that final bite

I feel like the only real way to get out of here if to survive for a certain amount of time

Survival Rate: 52%

Warriors

Another idea by @tiercel13 because they are so big brained

For safe it's the castle barracks but they have a completely nonsensical layout

there's random doors where they shouldn't be and some of the actual ones are gone, there's things in the rooms like it's just been vacated but a layer of dust covers everything

It must be vacant right? Those shadows that lurk behind the corners are just you going crazy right? Nobody is here. Nobody is here. Nobody is here. Nobody is here-

Survival Rate: 87%

Idea given by @hyrules-feral-hero

You got claustrophobia? That’s too bad, you’re stuck in a fairy bottle now

You don’t get ripped apart or anything like that

Your death will be slow and painful

Conserve oxygen? There’s no reason to, you’re not going to be set free :)

Survival Rate: 0%

Sky

I feel like being blunt with this one

Safe space is just a vacant Skyloft

No one is around, just the occasional keese and Remlits and rapid Loftwings flying about so watch your head!

It’s peaceful and welcoming and airy but empty.

I imagine that this would bring about some sort of uncanny valley feeling, but that is probably the wrong word for it. Because who lived here? Why are these birds so big? Why are these raccoon cats so aggressive at night?

Survival Rate: 100%

Get Silent Realmed😌

Basically just that. If you don’t know what the Silent Realm is, it’s basically a thing you do in SS where you have to get 15 tears

You have to get 15 orbs, if you step into waking water or a spirit’s light or take too long to get one of the orbs, the guardians will be after you

The guardians are what make this space dangerous. If they catch you, no matter how insignificant the gash was, you will die

You can get these guardians off of you when you get the next tear, but until you get all of them and retreat back to where you started, you are at the mercy of the guardians

Survival Rate: 73%

Wild

Picture this, you just woke up in this weird place so naturally, you ask someone where you are.

“This is Faron woods, are you a traveler?”

“…sure…?”

“Great! I can’t really leave this stable with my condition, so could you do me a favor and give this to my wife?” The old man asked

“…what?”

“She lives over in Hateno, up passed the Dueling Peaks!” He shoves a note in your hands

“Sir I-“

“Thank you so much! Here’s your pay for your kindness!” Upon inspecting what he had given you, you see that this is a bare diamond

You were bringing this man’s wife this letter.

Survival Rate: 85%

Evermean forest, good old homicidal trees, need I say more?

Survival Rate: 95%

Wind

Imagine chilling on a boat with your grandpa but your grandpa is the boat.

Yes, the waters are expansive, you haven’t seen an island in days if at all, but this boat is keeping you company, telling jokes, soothing your nerves

Maybe you should be freaking out that this boat is talking, but his voice is nice so what can you say?

You start to joke around, singing dumb sea shanties, he chuckles with your antics, but keeps moving forward.

The sea is vast, but at least you’re not alone

Survival Rate: 98%

Imagine this: You’ve just been dropped in this random place. Now you’re on a random raft in the middle of the sea

Suddenly, the wind isn’t strong enough to push you forward and you’re on top of a tidal wave

Your raft finally gets back on steady water, but now there’s a shadow looming over you

You turn around and you can even comprehend how big it is

It’s probably the Kraken btw

Survival Rate: 0%

You’re cooked 100%

Hyrule

I’m realizing that a good bit of these rooms are in the woods, well, Rulie’s is no better🤷🏽‍♂️

Except these woods don’t have anything trying to actively murder you and eat you

These woods have things trying to help you

Little floating glowing grandmas if you will😌

As soon as you fell into these woods you smelled sugar and sweets, you were still very discombobulated from your fall and now you were suddenly in woods?

Soon enough, you’re swarmed by lights of different colors, they ask you if you’re alright, if you’re ok, what is someone like you doing here

Then they guide you out of the Fairy woods, whether that means that you end up in another room or go home is up to god

Survival Rate: 100%

Idea given to me by @tiercel13

A neverending cave slowly circling further and further down. The deeper you go the more it seems to close in, the air seems thicker, and the voices of people you almost recognize begin to echo off the walls, crying for help

This room, similar to Time’s “safe space” is mostly a “you’re going to go insane” rather than “that thing is gonna fucking kill you” :)

Survival Rate: depends how sane you were when you entered

Four

Imagine going on a wild goose chase for coins kinstones in a field with all the pieces hidden in tall grass

Survival Rate: 100% but it’s hell

This is gonna make some people mad but let me cook rq

You guys know Poppy Playtime? The Smiling Critters that chase you? That one clip from the Hour of Joy when they were eating that one guy alive?

That, but Minish :)

Survival Rate: 0%

As you traverse these woods, you realize that there are no animals in the wake. No rabbits, no mice, not even a wolf.

But this forest is littered with the bones of those lost animals.

So basically for backstory, minish got overpopulated and that meant they ate meat religiously. It was enough to feed, but soon enough, they ran out of food and now they’re hungry again

There is no survival here

There are too many Minish and you are locked in their woods

You can here their chittering and chatting, but if they spot you, you’ll only know by the dead silence of the forest

You can try breaking the bones you find on your path, opening the middle so they can smell the marrow rather than your flesh

But you only have little time and some bones are thick

And- wait…who’s bones are these? These are Hylain bones-

Legend

There are so many choices with Legend…

For his safe room, you’re just chilling on the walls. Not in the walls, on them. Your image is planted on the wall. You can move freely, you’re just glued to the wall, 2D

You’ll probably use this to scare the weird people who live around the house who’s walls you currently inhabit.

Survival Rate: 99.9% (Someone played too much and the family who lived there destroyed the house)

You guys no the movie Us? It’s basically that

There are different versions of you running around and they kinda really want you dead-

Survival Rate: 65%

[bettyfrommars]

v a c a n c y

Eddie x afab!Reader

This is a short snippet of a world I've been thinking about for a while, loosely inspired by the film Equilibrium where feeling is a crime punishable by death, but also by my fascination with abandoned places, wastelands, and the idea that, even though love sets us up for pain and grief, life is not worth living without it. I hope to expand on it eventually. Hint: this might also be interwoven with my nightmare Eddie.

wc: 1.3k

18+MDNI, dystopian au

This is rough, I just spit out this scene because I needed this Eddie to cheer me up.

The sting of the frosty air bit your cheeks when you stepped out of the motel room you shared with your aunt Ramona.  Wiggling the knob to make sure it was locked, you zipped up your coat, and then checked to make sure it was locked one more time for good measure. 

Nearby, someone whistled to get your attention.

You snapped a look across the way to find that the newest resident of the Grove Motel was out in the parking space in front of his room working on his van. He waved a wrench in the air at you.  “She needs tender loving care when it’s cold outside,” he shouted, possibly unaware of the noise ordinance for loud voices on the premises.  

You wondered if perhaps he had mistaken you for someone else, so you adjusted the bag on your shoulder, turned your back on him, and kept going.  

The steel of the wrench clinked to the cement, and then, at a jog, he caught up to you, and extended the spread out fingers of his hand for you to see.  “What do you think?”

He was referring to the new skull ring he wore, and was about to tell you a story about how a Hell’s Angel traded it for a six pack, but you were fixated on something else.  

“You’re not supposed to do that,” you gestured to the chipped, black polish on his short fingernails, not to mention the jewelry adornments he so proudly wore. “If they catch you, you’ll get a fine.” 

“Fuck ‘em,” he put a cigarette to his lips, lit the end with a metal zippo from his pocket, and then clapped the lighter shut, keeping the coffin nail in the corner of his mouth as he spoke.  “They can put me in jail, wouldn’t be the first time.”

You came to a full halt on the pavement then, unnerved by his unique and utterly idiotic nonchalance. His gaudy rings, the flash on his vest over his leather jacket, his long hair, everything.  Hell, you could very well get a fine for just associating with him.  “They banish people too, you know? To the Outer Limits, I bet you wouldn’t be so cocky then?”

He puffed a laugh out his nose and leaned in, his voice a murmur that melted into a purr. “Well, then, you don’t know shit about me, sweetheart.”

You dodged to the side to avoid him, marching ahead with brutal determination.

“Hey, hey, hey, please wait,” he jumped in front of  you, waving his arms. “I’m sorry okay? Just...wait,” and then his hands were up, palms out to mime the invisible wall between you.

Your gaze lingered on the dead tufts of grass around the sidewalk, but then cautiously rose to his brown orbs rimmed in gold.

“My name’s Eddie,” he bobbed forward before bouncing back on the balls of his feet.  “I’ve been seeing you around for a couple weeks and thought maybe I’d introduce myself.”

“I know who you are,” you swallowed.  “You moved into Curtis and Janey’s old place. They were friends of mine.”

“Oh shit, that’s right.  He was taken away, wasn’t he? By those rent-a-cops with the cowboy hats.”

You nodded, working your jaw.  “Curtis and his wife, they were always holding hands and kissing and…” a part of  you worried you’d get in trouble just for speaking the words. “...being really affectionate with each other.”

Eddie gave an exaggerated grimace.  “Yikes, that sound like some hardcore stuff.”

“Don’t make fun,” you inclined your head.  “This is serious.”

He broke into a chuckle, biting his lip.  “I can tell that you think it is.”

You kept walking, only to have him take backwards steps to keep pace with you, wallet chain bouncing with each jolly movement.  “So, what’s your name?”

“You’re not from around here, I can tell,” you let him know, mumbling your name so it was almost inaudible.

“What gave it away?” 

“Do they not have laws against feelings and self-expression where you’re from?”

“No, they do,” he spun on his heel to face the same direction as you.  “I guess I just don’t care about their rules.”

You came to another abrupt stop to gape at his casual smile.  You’d never met anyone like him before, and it made you curious almost as much as it infuriated you.  He appeared to welcome your assessment of him with matched intensity, rolling his bottom lip through his teeth a few times.  

“I have to get to work,” you stepped from the curb, gnashing your teeth.

“Are you taking the bus?” 

“No genius,” you spat over your shoulder.  “I’m waiting for my limousine to pick me up at the curb.”

At that, Eddie guffawed with laughter and sprang up next to you, shuffling in little hop-steps.  “You had me worried there for a second.  I thought maybe you were dead inside like the rest of them.”

“I’m plenty dead inside,” you muttered, thinking it was time to take your pills again, the medication that kept you from feeling anything and sucked any and all joy out of life.

“Do you want a ride?” He exhaled toward the sky, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.  “I know a guy with a van who has some time to kill.”

“No thank you,” was your quick and curt response.  

“Suit yourself,” he flicked the butt into the street just as an old, rusted Plymouth cruised by with a huge dent in the door.  “But if you ever need like, milk or sugar, you know where to find me.”

“I won’t.”

A few yards from the bus stop, he called your name, and you spun around to face him, brow creased with irritation.  

“Was that Led Zeppelin I heard coming from your place the other day or was I dreaming?”  

You froze, panic flushing arctic ice through your veins.  

The enjoyment of music was absolutely forbidden in your territory, and the only thing on the radio were news and religious stations.  You’d kept your dad’s old cassette player and a shoebox full of tapes hidden in the wall behind your dresser for years.  It was a secret you’d kept so long, you were always very careful about when you listened and how loud.

You were shaking your head, moving your jaw, but no words could come out.  He would tell on you, and then the Troopers would come and ransack your room and take the only thing of your father’s you had left.

“Please don’t,” you took cautious steps, searching his face.  “I can’t, I won’t listen anymore, but please don’t tell anyone. I’m begging  you.”

Eddie frowned and grinned at the same time, confused.  “I would never—” and then he realized you were actually freaking out, and his tone got very soft.  “Hey, listen, it’ll be our secret, alright? I like to listen to music too.”

You looked around, worried that the aluminum skeletons in the junkyard next door had ears. You believed him, you had to.  You’d been caught and you were at his mercy. 

“I was just going to say we need to get you some headphones.” He bucked his chin and gave a proud wink, “I know a guy.”

[romanoffsbish]

A Twisted Web of Lies

Natasha Romanoff x R

Warnings: Cheating(Kinda Sorta), Violence, Injured R, No Happy Ending

Request | Prompts

“This was never real, was it?” / “I was just a warm body for those cold winter nights…”

“Please, don’t leave me, we can fix this.” /“You left me first, I’m just finishing the job.”

Natasha pulled away from Wanda's lips with a start as the door hit the wall. You looked amiss. Her heart beat in worried stutters. Something went wrong, and she's only making it worse.

The sting on her cheek was instant, feeling like pins and needles. Her face became neutral. A heart wrenching sob at the back of her throat being restricted with precision. It'll be okay Natalia, she'll understand one day, the mantra echoing in her mind as she keeps it together.

——

Wanda sobs loudly on the bed, this was never something she had a good feeling about. Nat was just too damn convincing that there was no other way to do this. You had to hate her for this to work, for her enemies to believe you useless. Wanda loved you enough to break you.

It's twisted, but in some part of you that's not hurting, you might even agree with the plan.

For a matter of minutes the room stood still, soft sniffles reverberated off the wall as the ones who betrayed you stayed still on the bed. Then you finally turned to face the woman you entrusted with your heart, you kept a stoic expression, but she saw the pain in your eyes.

"This was never real, was it?" Natasha flinched at your unusually cold tone. Her composure immediately faltering. You sighed defeatedly, "I was just a warm body for those cold winter nights..." Your head shook in disgust. "I hope it was all worth it."

Your stoney glare as you left the room made the redhead gulp, the fear still remaining in her throat, and for the first time she thinks this might've been a bad idea. But it was too late.

Her plan was for nothing. Something she found out while en route to the last person on the list.

The list of enemies that resurfaced out of nowhere, who threatened to ruin her in a way that would bring irreversible damage. Which is why she untethered herself from you, but someone was too smart and called her bluff.

Antonia Dreykov. The woman who chose revenge in the name of freedom. It was gifted back to her by Natasha, but her repentance didn't soothe the maimed woman at all. It was a grudge too thick to wade through, the two bonded, tortured souls were now unraveling.

Natasha took her childhood. A chance at joy. The same way her wretched father took hers, and countless others. Natasha imprisoned Antonia as she broke free from her chains.

So, the Taskmaster herself collected you to even the playing field. An eye for an eye.

Just as Natasha made it to the spot she'd tracked the woman to she heard a scream that made her blood run cold. Her heart having sank into the abyss of her very own personal hell. It couldn't be you, even if she knew in her heart that it was. Every sound you've ever made is embedded in the grooves of her soul.

You were supposed to be on a "mission" with Bucky in Canada. Not in Budapest, the ending point that brings it all back to the beginning.

You had to be over four thousand miles away for her to agree to this. Because whenever she doesn't have you under the eye of a super soldier, or metallic man she has you under hers. Distance never a thing as she ensured a way onto your missions every time, her rank allowing her to torture you with her proximity.

Fury knew what was going on. So he allowed it even when his gut told him it's wrong. It was.

Fury had told you living on your own wasn't an option due to an enemy from your past still being on the loose. Another lie told, the woman was detained, and locked up tight on the raft.

There was no fight left in you, plus, you didn't want the backstabbing whores thinking they had enough power over you to make you leave. No way were you going to help them have more leeway to continue their torrid love affair.

Natasha's feet had never moved so fast, she entered the humid, abandoned warehouse. It didn't take her long to find you, tied to a chair with your body in rough shape, your head lulled

"Not again," you whined before you looked up and saw a blur of familiar features. The red hair stood out to like a sore thumb, and you grimaced as the realization washed over you. "Why are you here?" You were clearly delirious.

"Me?" She scoffed, "What are you doing here?"

"An enemy of my enemy caught me while I was getting a dirty dog!" Natasha could see tears in your eyes, and if the moment wasn't so tense she would make fun of you for your emotional distress over a subpar New York hot dog. But she hadn't the time as she was working hastily to remove your arms intricate restraints.

"You're supposed to be safe with Bucky!"

"Bucky got called away on a real mission," you spat. "He let it slip that the other was bogus."

Natasha felt her blood boiling, an entire six months operation meant to keep you safe was down the drain because of Barnes loose lips.

"I appreciated the honesty," you admitted.

"Y/N," Natasha shakily whispered your name, but before she could go on a shield whooshed between your faces, nearly knocking you out.

"Perfect fucking timing," Natasha huffs, hands dropping the ropes around your legs so she could stand to greet a smug looking Antonia.

"Natalia, so nice of you to join your lover for a proper beat down." Natasha glared at her, a smart quip fresh on her tongue but you spoke first, and left her speechless and heartbroken.

"I'm not her lover," you spat with so much venom Natasha felt all the hope she had die.

"Oh yeah," Antonia gasped in feigned shock. "Natalia here cheated on you in the name of protection and left you even more vulnerable.

Natasha frowned. "Tracking an Avenger should be impossible, but with her reckless new lease on life it was as if she didn't even care to hide."

The redhead looked to you for an answer, you rolled your eyes and tilted your throbbing head to avoid the light shining down. "I wanted Dory to catch me, so I could put her behind bars and be able to leave the compound for good."

Natasha's eyes flashed with something you saw clearly, another layer of secrets kept to protect you, but all it did was leave you more exposed.

Before you could start a fight over the obvious detainment of your own enemy, Natasha was blindsided by a barbaric assault that took her across the room in a matter of seconds. While the destined enemies fought you worked as best you could to untie your legs with your good arm as the other dangled awkwardly.

The fight was anticlimactic, and quick. Without her deceased fathers mind control mod, she was virtually useless against the trained widow.

Natasha slammed her to the ground after the initial shock of being catapulted, then she took a knife from her thigh holster and drove it into the woman's chest. Nicking vital organs, and leaving her for dead. "You're a pathetic excuse for an enemy. I've fought actual children, as a child myself with more stamina than you."

"It doesn't matter," Antonia cackled, blood splattered from her mouth onto Natasha's face. "Can't you see? I won. You've lost your joy."

Natasha looked up to see you upright, you'd removed the rest of your restraints, and were now taking a slow stroll towards the exit. Using the wall to hold up the body you couldn't.

"She'll never forgive you," she weakly spoke while grinning devilishly. Natasha twisted the knife, and the woman beneath her choked out a final breath. The redhead glared down at her for a final time before sprinting to cut you off.

"Y/N please," she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around your legs in desperation. "Wanda and I only kissed, I swear she was fully dressed under that blanket. I-I just had to make you believe it, I needed to keep you safe."

"I don't give a fuck about your intentions." You tried, but were too weak to shrug her off. "They might've been good natured in your very own twisted way, but they led to my heartbreak."

"How do I fix this, please detka. There has to be a way," she pleaded brokenly. A part of you wanted to hold her, to let it all go, but you can't forget all the nights you spent crying over the betrayal that had only ever been a facade.

It caused irreparable devastation, leaving your relationship in ruins. "There's nothing to do Nat. You've had six months to come clean."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, tears soaking through the tattered fabric of your sweats, you weren't sure if she was talking to you, or herself. "I should've been upfront with you, I know that now, but I needed the enemy to believe it."

"Yeah, how'd that work out for you, huh?"

Natasha's lip trembled as she looked up to see just how badly you'd been beaten. "If I'd have known, then this never would've happened. I would've been prepared for an attack, I'm a fucking Avenger for Christ's sakes Nat, not a defenseless civilian. I would've fought by your side, but you treated me like a fragile child."

"It was a mistake, I'm sorry..." Natasha pressed her forehead to your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your exposed skin for what she believed to be the final time. The look in your eyes enough to nix her hope. "I love you Y/N."

"Let go Nat," you demanded, voice now gruff from the building frustration coupled along with lack of water you'd had being held captive.

"No! Please..." This couldn't be the end.

"Now!" You growled, something you'd never done to her before, but it's proving to be a year of firsts for you two. Just all the wrong ones.

"Please, don't leave me, we can fix this." Natasha pleads over a sob, the desperation innate, her lungs feeling as if they'd collapse any second now as her heart breaks in two.

"There's nothing to fix. I can't forgive this."

Never in her days did she expect you to ignore her truths, and walk away from her. It was to protect you, your future together, but you said you can't forgive her. Maybe Wanda, but her?

Abso-fucking-lutely not. She made a choice that left you permanently scarred. She could've dumped you in a way that wasn't so brutal, and didn't make you lose your sense of self worth.

"I trusted you Natalia," you grimaced, shaking your head side to side just to clarify to her how disgusted you were with your decisions. You chuckled darkly before pulling her up into an intense kiss as a distraction from your hands.

Natasha grunts as she hears the click of metal, feeling as your teeth drew blood from her lips while also feeling a coolness around her wrists.

"After all," you taunted, looking at her with a frown and faux sympathy in your eyes as you prepared yourself to hobble away. "You left me first, I'm just finishing the job."

——

1,899 Words

🥹 Kaitlyn 😔

[sugar-grigri]

The nail that sticks out gets hammered down

Guns, nails, katanas: I think it's interesting to read this title not just in terms of the chapter's construction, but as three notions serving the same idea, which is what we're going to develop. 

The chapter opens with the students, followers of the Church of Chainsaw Man, who don't really know what to do with their weapons. They weren't even aware that they had so many, which marks a continuity with the last chapter, when Nobana wasn't even aware that there were weapons.

Their reaction becomes the opposite when their superior gives them a reason to interpret the weapons differently - they're no longer guns in the hands of children, but a continuation of Chainsaw Man's message and power.

I think that's an easy interpretation to have, but it's one worth establishing for the sequel. The guns are only a third part of the reasoning, after all. 

When the fiend arrives on the scene, it's also interesting the moment and the way they's cut off. Strangely enough, the fire doesn't start until they begins to suggest that children shouldn't be holding weapons, as if someone wanted to prevent them from provoking an awakening of conscience. All symbolic, of course. 

I insist on the fact that the response of the weapons is instantaneous because in French the line is well cut (I read both versions because sometimes it helps me to have a re-reading on certain lines and I perceive better the indicators notably on the tone… And yes, you missed the fiend saying Ouh Là Ouh Là Là… )

The fiend seems to have a strong desire to protect children. Which gives us an idea of the demon they might embody. A common trait that could be given to fiends is that they are beings (and I say this with all the love I bear them) intellectually limited or rather who have a way of reasoning that is more animal and demonic (logical, they are demons they embody) than human.

Whether it's Power, who only reasoned through the prism of domination, or Beam, who considered himself Chainsaw Man's pupil and follower, the possessed reason strictly through hierarchy, or rather through a kind of food chain, which is typically bestial. 

Seeing what looks like a fiend, or even a devil, reasoning in terms of child protection induces the idea that they must have something to do with these children to reason in such an abstract way as child protection. 

Especially as it's something they embodies rather than understands themself, since they remains demonic, bashing in the skull of a child they themself wanted to protect, but had spoken to wrongly, as if this "lesson" were also part of his upbringing. 

That's why I interpret this fiend as harboring the devil of studies. Which is logical? It's one of the main fears of young people in particular, whether it's the choice of direction, exams, or even because it's related to the future, studies are a subject of anxiety. 

Particularly in a Japanese system in which the costs of studying are considerable, with university rankings that can be quite anxiety-provoking for high-school students. 

That's why this fiend is so revolted by the sight of children with weapons, and nails them to walls rather than brutally killing them all.

Moods and compassion are not necessarily inherent concepts in the fiends, even if they are capable of them, as we saw with Power.

But then again, if Power changed her behavior, it was only with regard to Denji and Aki, because they were part of her pack and her entourage, just like Meowy.

Sacrificing herself for Denji, even if she did in the end, was by no means obvious, hence the fact that there were several pages before her second death where she considered two options: her survival by helping Makima and her certain death to protect her brother. 

That's why the fiend's words are so strange and put me on the trail of the study demon.

Skull-hammering, or being overloaded with information and knowledge to be accumulated, is symbolized by this protruding brain. 

In the same way, the fact that the demon possessed has no eyes symbolizes the school system, whose aim is to develop students without actually seeing them. 

I was thinking about the hammer, but the title indicates that it's the nails we should be thinking about.

Hence the title of this analysis, which takes up a famous saying :

The nail that sticks out gets hammered down

Obviously, this saying alone cannot reflect the complexity of Japanese society, which is sometimes even used as a caricature by the Western media. 

Nevertheless, without falling into caricature, it symbolizes a simple idea: Japanese society, unlike Western society, puts the collective before the individual. 

This doesn't mean that the individual is completely erased, but that he is encouraged to consider his behavior from a more global angle, one that transcends himself. 

It's simply a saying that can be understood as advice: if you step out of line, you can expect to encounter more difficulties.

This is as true for a Japanese society as it is for a Western one. I'm not establishing any hierarchy of values.

Hence the nails, which freeze individuals where they belong. 

That's why this possessed person has an aversion to seeing students with guns: it's not just for protection, it's also for compartmentalization. Society doesn't give students the role of assailants; their role is to have a criterion in their hands. 

We continue with this superior, who also happens to be possessed by the demon of justice. His posture is not only interesting in that it's a completely instrumentalized justice in the sense that it puts children in danger for a better purpose, but it's above all the thesis of necessary evil, i.e. fighting evil with evil. 

If human morality were to be summed up, it would be through this maxim: preventing wars with wars, protecting like Chainsaw Man while endangering students - that's the whole human contradiction.

So, of course, the fiend find him vain when he argues that he is the best incarnation of justice.

It's typical of man to imagine himself superior to other species. 

We end on Katana, who arrives with a cutaway (which I loved) to declare that there's no justice with Chainsaw Man. 

So, in one line, we put back in place all the originality of this character, and I find it incredible. 

This line is both true and ironic!

True, because Chainsaw Man humiliated him by killing his grandfather, winning against him and beating his private parts with Aki to avenge Himeno. 

But above all, Katana Man has been brought up among the Yakuza, who he believes are governed by the same principles as his grandfather, to the point where he firmly clings to this position.

Katana Man hasn't evolved at all on this issue .

Ironic, given that Katana Man's grandfather was Denji's debt collector, the man who ended up ordering the overindebtedness and dismemberment of a child.

Indeed, Denji has no idea what justice is, for his life is profoundly unjust, whether it's being indebted for his father's misdeeds or dying prematurely. 

Above all, he doesn't take justice into his own hands; Denji didn't take revenge on Aki and Power with Makima, he saved her, just as he pursues his own personal goals of killing demons; they don't slaughter demons to bring justice to all those unjust deaths, he fights because they turn him on, he's an instrument, not a vigilante. 

What the chapter speaks to in these three themes is the whole paradox of protection, whether it's seeking justice through the church by sending children as gunpowder.

Whether it's trying to protect these children by enclosing them in a school system.

Whether it's protecting ideals that are unfounded. 

Once again we follow the analysis of the last time, public hunters choose weapons or possessions that limit the damage to the teenagers who constitute the nation's precious asset. The church uses children as a kind of barrier, not because they think they're good soldiers, but because they're moral barriers. So they send a possessed man convinced that he's protecting the children.

Or a weapon who thinks he still has a man's heart.

It's not just a clash between the two camps; it's also a battle for public approval.

Katana Man and Chainsaw Man are two sides of the same coin, the same story. While one has known a loving grandfather whom he loves so much that he closes himself off in denial (to the point of always refuting Denji's version that he murdered his grandfather as a zombie, even though the only legacy he left him was a zombie weapon), the other has known the monster and has therefore not internalized concepts such as love, compassion or justice.

Katana Man is a weapon who has been instrumentalized by the Yakuza, and is still deluding himself to find meaning in his existence, while Denji is one of the few weapons living strictly for himself at the moment.

He's the only one who truly follows his heart !

[lesbewriting]

should have listened

[ Rafe Cameron x GN!Reader ] [664 words]

SUMMARY: You were warned about Rafe, yet you didn't listen, and now you're left with consequences of involving yourself with him, heartbreak.

WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, rafe, angst, hurt no comfort

A-N: I wasn't entirely sure who I was gonna change this fic to, but in the end i decided on Rafe

[masterlist]

You sat comfortably up against your closed door. Legs tugged into your chest, head resting behind you. You felt your eyes prickle with tears at the corners of your eyes as you stared out the window situated above your desk. 

A million thoughts ran through your mind, eyes briefly glancing at the discarded books you left thrown across your floorboards. You couldn't stop the tears any longer as they found themselves flowing down your cheeks. Violent sobs ripping through your throat as you sat there.

You should've listened to everyone when they told you not to entwine your life with Rafe’s. You shouldn't have engaged in a relationship with him. He was a bad idea, and you were incredibly blind to his red flags. He was—He was a - no, he is a criminal. But most of all, you knew he was just going to use you and that your relationship with each other was destined to crumble. 

But you were so gullible and blinded by his lies and false love that you didn't even think. You didn't even question if he had any ulterior motives at first because if you even did, you wouldn't be in this position right now. 

"I'm so stupid!" You muttered to yourself under your breath, hiding your teary eyes with the palms of your hands. "He's a walking red flag. Any sane person could see that." 

Pulling yourself to your feet, you shakily managed to walk towards your desk. A pretty silver chain sat atop the desk's surface as you approached. The very object in which Rafe had gifted you for your first anniversary together as a couple. You can still remember the exact words he'd told you as he'd given it.

'My heart will always beat for you, and only you.' 

Which was absolute bullshit if you were being honest. He'd even told you when you broke up a few days that everything he said was just that, false. He didn’t mean any of it, of course. He didn't. 

You should have figured it out sooner when you found him tangled between the sheets of his bed with some kook girl a few days ago. When he decided to throw away everything that he'd built with you for a few stupid minutes of pleasure. 

He never actually loved you, and you knew that now. You still wish you had heeded the warnings from your friends, the pogues - hell, everyone always told you. You were angry at yourself for falling for him, but mostly, you were angry at Rafe for taking advantage of you. You wanted him to pay for everything he'd done.

You grabbed the chain, carefully examining it closely, as you spun yourself to face the wall to the right of you. You took in a deep breath, and eventually, you threw the chain. It smacked into the beforehand, sliding to the ground with a thud. 

The impact was somehow enough to break it. It must not have been that expensive than you thought. You wiped the stray tears from your cheeks now, with the sleeve of your shirt. 

Had you known this was where you would be today, you would have never engaged with him that day at the boneyard. You would have not stumbled drunkily into Rafe. You wouldn't be heartbroken over someone who managed to stomp all over your heart. Disregarding your feelings and love for him and using them for his own gain. 

Maybe you were the fool, for really believing that somebody like Rafe could even learn to love somebody like you. Or maybe it was Rafe's fault for picking you out of everyone on that damned island as his next victim, his next conquest.

Either way, what is done is done. You can't take back the past, no matter how much you want to stop yourself from falling.

All you have and are left with now is a newfound hatred for Rafe, anger, and a whole load of heartbreak. 

[film-in-my-soul]

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Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

[asurrogateblog]

what do we know about Nobody Home?

like...in general?

well, for starters, the origins of the song is that during the later sessions for the wall in fall of 1979, david challenged roger to write a new song for the album. never one to turn down a bet, roger wrote nobody home overnight and brought it to the studio the next day. and unfortunately for david it was really good. roger employed his tried-and-true tactic: "just list a whole bunch of things", and it worked.

the actual lyrical content of the song is – if you are aware of any pink floyd lore – fairly objectively about syd. for instance, there are several references to his unique style of dress during the bands early days ("obligatory hendrix perm", "elastic bands keeping my shoes on", "gohills boots"). other imagery references syd's mental condition after his departure (the drone of the TV in the background, the "bag with a toothbrush and a comb in"...long explanations just trust me). in this context, "nobody home" can be interpreted in two ways. either it's referencing how syd was silently iced out by the band, or, it's referencing syd's dissociation – the idea of there being "nobody home" behind his "wild, staring eyes".

*(footnote: many people also interpret the lines "i've got a silver spoon on a chain / i've got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains" as being about rick and his cocaine addiction at the time of the album's recording. I go back and forth on my thoughts on this)

however, obviously this song isn't just a standalone – it's a part of the wall. in that context, at this point in the story pink (the character) has locked himself up in a hotel room, in a prison of his own fame and self-imposed isolation. it's an especially sad song imo, because the "plot" of the lyrics is that he's trying to call someone (presumably his wife), and despite that real attempt to peer over the wall and reach out, no one answers him. he's already pushed away everyone who loves him. :(

of course, the syd interpretation and the fictional interpretation are not at all mutually exclusive. the character of pink is an amalgam of roger and syd – and this song feels to me like an attempt of roger's to show the parallels between them. although under very different conditions, roger too has come to feel like his success is like having a lead role in a cage, and that he's lost the ability to show his true self to the outside world.

(this is entering tinhat territory, but I am personally convinced that roger is directly and purposefully paralleling syd's song "bob dylan blues". listen to them back to back and tell me I'm wrong)

I hope that's enough!

[vickyvicarious]

Okay, so this is one of several (I believe?) timeline errors in Seward's accounts. It happens in a few other places but I think nowhere so egregiously as here, with a week of time added in since yesterday's date. I recall that last year there were theories about Dracula affecting Seward's mind in some way, similar to how he affects Renfield and Lucy. While those can be fun to play around with, I'm certain the 'official' explanation is simply that Stoker got mixed up on his timeline and failed to notice that he'd added a week between the 19th and 20th.

All that's backstory though. Because it has only been a day for us, it's perhaps easier to miss, but if we assume the timeline mentioned in the actual text of the entry is what Stoker was envisioning, then... Renfield has seemingly been chained to a wall and in a straightjacket for a week straight:

For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself: "Now I can wait; now I can wait." The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at him. He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room, but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading—I might almost say, "cringing"—softness. I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved.

That's... I didn't really put it together last year, too caught up in the actual dates we're given, but. That's horrifying.

I love the delivery of Renfield's "now I can wait." But something about the amount of time it took makes it so creepy and so sad. He's been raging and fighting for a week, and it's only now when he can finally calm himself enough to go back to his more strategically placating approach towards his captors. (And it seems the moon has prompted this change within him... more thoughts on that later.) Indeed, only when he does so does he regain any semblance of his former freedom.

"They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!" It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others; but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together; or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well-being is needful to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not speak.

I think this passage proves how Seward's view of Renfield is very tied to his own personal feelings, and is thus anything but professional and objective. In the past, he's been overly indulgent of Renfield when he wants to discover a new madness that he can put his name to, and has even been tempted to go further; in his previous entry he felt hurt by Renfield ignoring him and then escaping, and lashed out with dismissive assumptions of delusions he must be having, and locked him up/restrained him. Apparently, kept him restrained until he resumed his former more placating behavior. Seward is fascinated by Renfield partially out of ambition, and partially out of this idea that they have some kind of bond or he has some unique understanding of Renfield.

And yet that idea upsets him too. He knows that he himself is abnormal in some way, perhaps is very conscious of or worried about this fact, and kind of scoffs at/dismisses the idea that Renfield might view him as someone who is on the same 'side' or understands his perspective. It sort of feels like Seward wants Renfield to be open with him and confide in him but only in a respectful way that acknowledges him as mentally/status-wise superior. If Renfield treats him as equal to the attendants, that is failing to acknowledge his superior status and intellect and training. If Renfield treats him as an ally opposed to the attendants, then that implies the two of them are of equal status and that Seward's being viewed as mentally on a level (and thus mad at least to an extent) rather than superior. Even as it partially soothes his hurt feelings the idea kind of upsets him, and he kind of scoffs at it.

The last possibility he brings up is that Renfield is using him. But Seward tests that right away and it doesn't seem to go anywhere yet: the cats that previously were Renfield's greatest desire today do not interest him in the least. I keep feeling like there's a weird balance of Seward being very willing to see Renfield as very calculative and secretly harboring murderous plans, but at the same time not having much ability to recognize when he himself is being manipulated by Renfield. Like this pleading/cringing behavior. On the one hand he has definitely noticed it is a deliberate action in the past, but at the same time he seems to consider it an indication that Renfield can be 'managed' again and set loose from his padded cell/restraints. (Not that I think releasing him is a bad idea, but it is an interesting disconnect from how Seward has kind of looked at it in the past, I guess?) Seward often notices when Renfield is trying to get something from him but doesn't necessarily refuse it, or still lets his own emotions/ambitions influence his response. I feel like it comes down to a lot of ableism in his faith that he is smarter/more able to see through and manage Renfield, and thus can afford to sometimes indulge Renfield's efforts to use him. Meanwhile I feel like Renfield has deliberately played into that at least sometimes in order to get his own way, and Seward doesn't recognize how clever he actually is.

Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case they are required….

I love the way he pauses and then says "happy thought!" He truly is just having a sudden idea, and his curiosity is overwhelming his ethics/common sense here. Honestly, in this entry? It reminds me a lot of Dracula once again. I can easily see Dracula thinking this to himself with a few minor changes.

Perhaps on May 15th, before reminding/taunting Jonathan never to sleep outside his own rooms. Or even better, on June 29th when Jonathan asks to leave right then and he gets his wolf idea:

Happy thought! I shall to-night play predator nerves against prey ones. He tried to escape before without my help; to-night he shall have the chance to escape with it. I shall show him the door, and have the wolves ready outside in case they are required….

...look, I'm just saying, Seward is super creepy this entry.

[elucienweekofficial]

Elucien Fanfic Crossword Answer Key- Smut Day Two

How did you do? It's our hope through this week of puzzles that folks are able to find an existing fanfiction that speaks to them! Consider these a small masterlist filled with recommendations from the community itself. Below you'll find every fanfiction recommended attached to the author who created it, added in the order they were submitted! Fics were also categorized to their best of our ability. Check them out below!

[please check all tags before engaging!]

My Name, Your Confession by @ofduskanddreams

Elain and Lucien are both determined to ignore the bond at Nesta’s mating ceremony, but their ideas backfire as the bond chafes and they reach a breaking point.

Elain refuses to say Lucien’s name when he’s around—Lucien vows to make her scream it before the night ends. Is it really recklessness if it’s fate?

Previously titled: “He Who Must Not Be Named”

Desperate Measures by @separatist-apologist

Day Court keeps Lucien busy.

Lucky for Elain, Lucien knows just the way to rectify that.

we'll always have paris by @beesays

"Someone might see"

"So let them"

Or Elain has an exhibitionist streak and Lucien indulges.

Like A Survivor by @reispinkoveralls

Elain suggests a rather creative solution to overcome her PTSD involving Lucien and a set of chains.

So Long, London by @shadowisles-writes

"You swore that you loved me but where were the clues, I died on the altar waiting for the proof."

After the war with Hybern, Elain is welcome back into Graysen Nolan's estate to marry him. Elated to live the life she dreamed of, Elain learns to glamour herself to fit in among the humans of their village. Unable to keep away on her wedding day, Lucien paces outside until the very last moment he can interrupt to beg her to reconsider, except the scene he walks into is anything but a wedding.

Push Me Up Against The Wall by @xtaketwox

It's been 6 months since Elain's world was turned upside down by Graysen's cheating. Vassa knows just the thing to help Elain move on: Lucien

Separate My Soul From My Body by @crazy-ache

“I am Elain Archeron, sister of the High Lady of Night, Feyre the Cursebreaker. I’ve come to demand the release of Lucien Vanserra back to the custody of the Night Court.”

"And why would I do that?" The High Lord of Autumn demanded.

“Because he is my mate.”

When Lucien Vanserra is held captive by his father in the cruel depths of Autumn, there is only one force more powerful than politics that can save him—his mating bond with Elain Archeron. She must make the choice to save him, even if it means binding their souls forever.

Solstice Traditions by @infinitefolklore

Lucien comes to the River House on Winter Solstice eve with another gift for Elain. He is pleasantly surprised by her reaction.

Where's My Love by @shadowisles-writes

After getting the smallest taste of what being close to her mate might feel like, Elain can't help but need more. This is pretty much just smut.

Little Dove by @infinitefolklore

Human!Elain and Fox!Lucien

This is a slight canon divergence deleted scene.

After Feyre is taken to Spring Court, Tamlin sends Lucien to go check on the Archeron Estate. Lucien finds Elain all alone and offers her some company. Elain discusses her upcoming betrothal to Graysen, and Lucien tries to convince her to change her mind.

Kneel Before Me by @zenkindoflove

Lucien arrives at the House of Wind, only to be drawn into a sparring match with none other than the Inner Circle's own Shadowsinger. Things get out of hand and Azriel discovers whether he really can defeat Lucien easily.

Post-ACOSF, Elucien.

All Roads Lead To You by @annaskareninas

When Elain Archeron decides to travel the Continent, the last thing she expects is to run into Lucien Vanserra, her almost-mate, at a wine bar in the capital of Montesere. In fact, the only thing she expects less than that is to get extremely drunk, go skinny-dipping, and sleep with him.

The next morning, Elain flees Montesere. But it seems fate has other plans for her, because wherever she goes - Scythia, Xian, Rask - Lucien just keeps popping back up. Can she truly resist her destiny?

The Camping Trip by sunnyzoya

"Does that turn you on? Thinking about someone watching as I fuck you?"

I Think I Saw You In My Sleep by @zenkindoflove

The dreams of him come from the mating bond, but Elain wants them to stay. Elucien one-shot. Post ACOSF.

I'm Betting It All On You by @xtaketwox

Lucien is tired of living in limbo. He has a proposition for Elain. One kiss and if she still doesn't want him, he'll leave her alone forever.

Call Me When You Need by @whatishowedyouinthedark

Elain doesn’t mean to sleep with Lucien. The first time.

The Longest Night by @southsidestory & NextToSomething

The Winter Solstice is a time for gift-giving, love, and new beginnings. Elain wants none of those things from Lucien. She didn’t choose to be his mate, no more than she chose to be High Fae, and she’s not used to either yet. The only way to guard her heart is to keep her distance. But then a blizzard hits Velaris, leaving Lucien snowed in at the town house. And whether Elain likes it or not, she’s spending the night with her mate—the longest night of the year.

(A Court of Frost and Starlight canon-divergence.)

Emissaries With Benefits by @velidewrites

When diplomacy fails, Prythian courtiers Elain and Lucien like to resort to a steamier kind of negotiation.

[idkbroimjusthere]

The Path I Chose | Part One

I've never posted on anything but I decided to finally write down the story I've had in my head for a while now. I have no idea when or if I will post the next chapter but I probably will if this gets some attention.

Summary: I'm a freelance CIA agent. That's not really a thing but that's what I call it. I'm working for a woman named Kate laswell on some off the books investigating. We've been searching for Information on a child trafficking ring that has connections to ultra nationalist groups through europe. I don't get to know the details, but I know enough to do my job. I know what I'm doing is dangerous, but I'm staying away from the worst of it, Right?

Edit

Content Warning: This is going to be pretty dark, cannon typical violence and all that, some implied SA, and forced proximity I guess? so no minors and read at your own risk. Also there will probably be sex cause I'm a perv

How the fuck did I get here? It was never supposed to go this far. If I knew I'd be here at the end, dying, alone, I don't think I would have ever signed that contract.

I'm standing, chained to a wall, peeing my pants because I can't hold it any more. Sharp pain shoots through my lower back and I can feel my kidneys throbbing. The combination of whatever fucking drugs they're feeding me and the fact that I've been trying to controll my bladder for what feels like, fuck, I don't even know anymore, it's really making me want to give up. I wonder if it would be that easy, if I could just decide I'm done, that I'm too tired for this shit, and die. No. I'm probably going to have to wait until these peices of shit decide they're done with me, and pray that it's soon. My head hurts. It's not bleeding like my limbs, but it is pounding, endlessly, like my heart has somehow been moved by all the shoving and kicking, and it now rests heavily in my skull. A door opens somewhere to my right and I try to lift my head to see but a wave of nausea rolls through me and I drop my eyes back to the blood slowly dripping from my body into a puddle on the floor

Maybe that will kill me, blood loss would explain the brain fog. But so would the drugs. I experimented with things in my early adult years and I'm pretty sure it's some combination of psychedelics. Everything feels far away and the cement floor is swirling under me in Van Gogh-esque patterns. It's not pretty though, it feels cold and harsh under me.

The men that I've learned to recognize since the beginning of my imprisonment have come back to try to get me to tell them answers that I don't have to questions I don't quite understand. They have every reason to believe I might know the answers, I work for the fuckin united states government after all, and for a woman I'm pretty sure has more power in these matters than she tells me she does, they probably saw that and assumed I had information about some weapons dealer's death. I don't, but I don't think that matters anymore. I was an easy target to them. I came right to them. They won't let me live, I'm sure of it. If they were going to let me go the men torturing me wouldn't have shown me there faces. One man has tattoos that I took note of In The begining, but I don't think knowing that there is an ugly looking spider inked on the bigger man's hand is going to do me any good anymore. I hate spiders. And pain. All I feel is pain. No hope of getting away anymore.

I hear someone talking but it's muffled by the ringing in my ears. My knees buckle as something solid hits my in the ribs shooting pain through my chest and spine. My guess is it's the bat that the smaller man seems to love swinging. I'm hanging by my wrists from the wall, unable to sit down because of the metal digging into me and leaving what I know will be dark bruises by tomorrow, if I'm still alive by then. They then take a step back and I hear something familiar. Something I can't quite place as I slip in and out of consciousness. The men tasked with getting answers from me shout at each other, or me, I can't tell.

They're gunshots, I think. The sound rings through the air and hits my ears with a sharp ping. My brain tries to focus as my head spins and I see the men looking out into the hallway. Before the door can even open all the way, both men are shot. Clean kills by the sound of it, just two shots. The sound echoes in my ears as my eyes close and open slowly.

Someone steps into the room, they seem to be studying me. I would be self conscious if I had any ounce of pride left, but right now, I don't care.

This person is large, taller than me but I am half on the floor right now. This guy looks huge from here. I try to stand and it takes me a moment. He watches without moving an inch, I realize his assault rifle is aimed at me.

"Who are you"

The question barely registers as I try to breathe more evenly

"I'm with, I'm a-an American, I work for the CIA" I stutter out stumbling through the words like I've never said them before.

"Please, I can't, I'm not supposed to be here, I don't know what they want from me" that's only sort of a lie, right?

He doesn't shoot me, yet. I guess somewhere in my mind I do want to live because I'm begging for help. The man says something to a radio strapped to his chest and starts rummaging around in the pockets of the two men who have been torturing and drugging me for what I can only assume is weeks now. He cuts off the bat guy's badge and pulls the key card for my room out from his pocket. He pulls both bodies into the room, like they weigh nothing, and closes the door.

He turns towards me and I shudder, adrenaline and panic shoot through me. His face is covered and I can't see very well so I have no idea what he's thinking. I'm going to assume it's bad though, this man feels dangerous, like he's one wrong word away from bashing my head in.

I try to stand up straighter and look him in the eyes but my body aches and I feel weak. I can't feel my hands anymore everything feels fuzzy.

He walks up to me and grabs my wrist. I feel the restraint fall off my wristand my arm drops to my side. As I try to bite back the pain of the blood I have left rushing back to my fingertips my other wrist falls.

The combination of all my ailments rolls through my body like a wave and I stumble. The man in front of me grabs my shoulders and sets me on the floor a foot or two to the left of the spot I had been standing in for way too long.

My head falls forward and my vision gets dark around the edges

"Hey, it's ok, I'm not going to hurt you."

I shake my head as he grabs onto my arms again. Fear of what this man could do to me if he wanted to rattles my bones

"N-no, don't touch me, please" I say, tears now falling down my face.

"You're ok, I'm going to help you, we're going to go somewhere safer" he says in low, calm voice.

I hear muffled words from an earpiece he's wearing. He holds his radio and replies "copy, I've got the key card" he leans me back against the wall and stands, heading towards the door. He swipes the card and it opens, letting in another man. He looks at me and I blink dumbly at him.

He says something to the masked guy and takes a step towards me. I cower away and try to scoot back into the corner

"It's alright dear, I'm not going to hurt you, you can trust me" he says in a light, kind tone.

I'm not sure I have a choice here, if I say no, tell them to get away from me, I'm stuck here. I don't think I can stand, let alone walk and my best chance of getting out of here is going along with this. My judgement may be clouded but something about his voice seems to make me relax. That could also be the blood loss.

"Please, I just want to go home." I'm still crying, looking up at these men from the floor in my broken, battered state.

"You'll be alright with us, we will get you out of here"

That sounds great, I'm in. I try to give a response but my mouth is so dry and it comes out as a sort of croak.

"Here, I have water" he kneels down to open a canteen on his side but it doesn't slosh when he shakes it.

"Fuck, Ghost, bring your's" he says, but the man is already stepping towards me and crouching down, bringing the open bottle to my mouth. He carefully holds the water, tipping it up slowly, and I drink as much as I can. He pulls it back and screws on the cap. I whine a little. I haven't had much food or water since I've been here and I don't feel satisfied by the quick drink at all

"Thats enough for now, we need to move."

"Yeah, captains waiting for us with the truck on the east side, building's clear to the exit"

I look between them as they speak and they both look at me.

"Ready love, we've got you, don't worry." Says the man who's name I don't know. The one called ghost picks me up again and sets me sort of over his shoulder. Pain once again floods through my body and I feel myself start to slip out of counciousness.

"You're alright yeah? We'll be out soon, just hold on" the man to our right says. It's the last thing I hear before sinking into the void of darkness that clouds my eyes.