#is inescapable death worth the risk

[hersurvival]

"take half a pill before bed for one week then increase to one whole pill" there on the label and i already know what i am in for, that transitory period of starting new medication.

this is all incredibly recent, february. i have been suffering through it all, 27 years, until i found myself crying at work because of "ocd tendencies" they say, i say, because put that way, it's not definitive, but a maybe.

and since february, i have lost myself in the haze six times. six. already. (and one abrupt withdrawl period as an experiment from one doctor which was ill-advised by every subsequent professional i have seen after). and tonight we risk another. for these unanswered for tremors.

they say before bed as it will "make me drowsy" and at first that was exciting, it is what i wanted, but as it gets later, as the light outside grows dimmer, i am scared of becoming tired.

"i have a phobia of sleep" she told me and i told her "i have been scared of my dreams since i was five." this past week i have been dying every night that my body, my brain, something, has been refusing to let me drift back, there is no peace. i didn't fall asleep until 930 this morning, phone in hand, an hour and a half of mismatched baggage under my eyes before another appointment in the city.

i have spent the last several months dreaming on schedule, waking every two hours, all night, dying, panicking, resetting my mind to hit replay. but i don't think i am ready for this, what if i get stuck, trapped, will i spend six hours experiencing the nothingness of death? is it worth it? there was a time in my life i could rest. wasn't there?

[justjudethoughts]

Lockwood's Lack of Self-Preservation Instincts

In the show, the writers make a big deal out of Lockwood's recklessness stemming from borderline suicidal intentions, but in the books this doesn't really get brought up until The Empty Grave. Even then, by the end of The Empty Grave, there doesn't seem to be a completely clear answer to what Lockwood has been thinking, and what he is thinking now. While the show has the scene that Lockwood admits he used to think the bottom of the Thames was a nice place to be, but that he doesn't think that anymore with Lucy present, the books simply don't have an equivalent conversation. Which got me thinking about the exact nature of Lockwood's recklessness, lack of self-preservation, and arc.

I think that his recklessness started with a super broken view of self-preservation, since he didn't have anyone to live for and missed his family and thought it was all for nothing. He literally says all you can do in life is try to help as many people as you can before you die. He chooses to be so reckless over and over thinking that going out in a blaze of glory is the best he can do for himself. It's not that he ACTIVELY wants to die, it's that he doesn't particularly care if he does, and in his mind it's better to die on a dangerous, reckless mission ridding London of ghosts than live having never risked anything to help people. Which is good, until he takes it too far and is chasing the thrill and willing putting himself at huge risk for no good reason. And I think Lucy and George help him rein that in, because he subconsciously has something to live for again. But Lucy leaving sets him back to self-destructive tendencies. Blaming himself for Lucy's departure, he once again loses any sense of self-worth beyond his capability to efficiently get rid of ghosts.

And then, after Lucy is back and he starts to realize that his families' deaths weren't meaningless, and Jessica's death glow was there to help them, and maybe there is a wider, more organized story they are taking part in, his recklessness doesn't go away but it becomes a testament to what being alive means: being so full of life you do not fear death, not out of a desire to die but out of knowledge that death isn't the ultimate victor.

I think the difference between Lockwood in books 1-4 and Lockwood at the end of book 5, is that originally his recklessness was a product of believing death is the ultimate inescapable end and thus nothing really matters, and it changes to the realization that everything DOES matter, and while death is inescapable, it doesn't have the final say.

He becomes the embodiment of the ND Wilson quote, "Run faithfully to the end, and like all good men, you will die of having lived."

[imbuedebauchery]

While I love to see everyone so excited about Isha,

especially where it concerns the potential for Jinx's healing, I'm shocked to see a lack of concern for the child and what she means to the story as a whole.

Arcane has always been about cycles of violence, about how people become doomed by violence to uphold systems of violence. It has always shown us this through children. Arcane is fundamentally built on the trauma of children and how that trauma becomes an inescapable vortex.

Vi would not be Vi if she was not extremely young when her parents died. She would not base her entire sense of self and worth around protecting others - she would not consider herself fundamentally wrong and reprehensible for failing to protect her charge, Powder - if not for the way this identity was cemented into her youth. The Enforcers took everything from her. The whole point of her story is how she negotiates (terribly) with all these moving parts - pieces that were presented to her through the vulnerable and fractured lens of being a literal child.

Same with Jinx. Let's not forget what her trauma looked like. Where Vi was forced to be an adult right from the beginning of her life, Jinx never got to grow up. She was forever trapped by her nightmares and hallucinations, unable to process her emotions like an adult. We know how this ended. (Terribly.)

The sister cities are at war. The sisters are at war. They were subjected to ruthless violence and isolating practices throughout their youth. One of the fundamental scenes from S1, E1 is the baroque-invoking montage of Vi, Mylo and Claggor fighting the other kids while Powder sat and watched, horrified. This could very well have been one of the worst, ugliest displays of close-up violence Powder was subjected to in her youth.

Why is it okay that this happens to Isha?

Maybe "okay" is the wrong word. I'm not accusing people of condoning or celebrating any kind of violence involving children, not by any means.

My question is: why are we cheering so loud for Jinx to be reverse-adopted by this child when their first encounter is after a lethal gunfight? Jinx shows her a ruthless display of unthinking, uncaring violence. She has become the undercity embodied with all her chaos and destructive tendencies. Isha was an evader - she ran from the danger. She was a survivor, not a killer. But the moment she is shown someone who cares about her in the same motion that she shows her how the undercity really works, she associated that care with that violence.

Did Isha know what it meant to put herself in Vi's way? Yes or no both bring their own problems. Yes, she understands death and what it means to kill people, and would participate in that act - would either be killed by Vi, or pull the trigger on her - to keep her new source of care safe. No, she has no idea what she's doing, and is blindly acting on love and attachment alone.

This was the question that would have followed Silco and Powder all throughout Powder's upbringing.

Yes, Jinx will be given opportunities to see herself, to see Powder in Isha, and to try and make things better for Isha and thereby address her own childhood trauma. But it's already off to a horrific start. Jinx is ultimately powerless to change how the undercity works (we'll see if she unites it! But likely won't change it), and cannot afford to show anything other than express and expert violence to those she loves. There was another post that talked about how the three girls, Isha, Jinx, and Sevika, communicate in body language and grunts and don't need words to communicate anything - yes. because their communication is based in beating the shit out of people. This makes them good fighters, not good at fixing issues or approaching trauma. They will simply continue to try and solve their problems and become a family in the only way they are familiar with: through killing others.

Another child is simply being roped into the way of things. Another child is being put at risk. Another child will grow up and show other children that violence is what keeps the world chugging along.

Whether or not Isha dies, something tragic will befall her. Something that will provide her with an irreversible fork in the road. She will either die, and Jinx will see that this is what her system, her city, does to people. That this is what she is permanently cursed to do to people. Or Isha lives, and faces something traumatic. Jinx realizes that this is what happens to children in the undercity, and is hopeless to affect any kind of change.

Or... Isha lives. She suffers the moment of extreme horror that will change her forever, and has no coping mechanisms, but saw enough lost love in Jinx that she is able to piece together a way to continue in this world without resorting to violence. She finds a way to address that trauma without unleashing it back on the world.

I'd like to think, knowing how Fortiche will be more than aware of the themes of childhood in this series, that Isha will live. Introducing a child this late in the game - a universal symbol of hope for the future in any given fiction - presents them with the opportunity to express how things can change. Maybe our wretched adult freaks are doomed, but maybe... maybe there's a chance. Maybe not everything is absolutely hopeless.

If they kill her? There is no shred of hope in the rest of this series. I'm sure of it. Literally nothing good will come out of any other plotline in S2 if Isha dies. She is the canary, and oh boy, we're going down deep into the mine with S2.

Why must a child suffer for Jinx to learn? I think this is the ultimate question that comes out of seeing the excitement for the new trio family. Why do we have to rope a literal child into a murder duet so that Jinx might be able to see her own traumas in a different lens?

There's something about the doom of children to systemic violence that just makes me weepy every time. Rewatching S1 E1 had me in tears almost every minute. Knowing that these kids, these children, were participating in practices that would doom them. Knowing that the adults we see at the end of S1 and where we are in S2 are direct and inevitable products of their youth. Kids that deserved love and safety, and were instead handed war and weapons. And we're watching it again in real time! And cheering about it????

I had to ramble about this because I just haven't seen anything on it - and maybe I'm wrong, maybe it just hasn't crossed my feed, maybe everyone is acutely aware of this as a base-level of knowledge and I just didn't get the memo. But I'll share my thoughts anyway.

[soullessjack]

"tell me on anon what you wouldn’t off anon"

i think dean was straight up abusive towards jack and while there is room for redemption to be explored, in canon, the show did not give him any sort of redemption. in other words in my eyes "canon" dean winchester is an abuser (but canon is unimportant anyways so whatever)

im scared of saying this and getting stoned to death

no need to comment you can just post this without saying anything if you want

- 🏴‍☠️

no no you’re right and you should say it, however I disagree that Dean was completely abusive and that there was never any canon redemption.

firstly I think there’s a slight difference in someone being abusive vs being an abuser;

abuse (or abusive behavior/tendencies) can happen accidentally, unintentionally, especially if it’s resulted from trauma (like Dean’s). you can be completely unaware that something you’ve done or said is abusive, especially because being abusive can be as simple as yelling or hitting someone, or treating them unfairly (like jack). people who have abusive tendencies or behaviors are capable of regretting it and wanting/trying to change…whereas an abuser is wholly aware, intentional and remorseless about their actions. they know what they are doing, they know it’s immoral/inhumane and they just don’t care—either because they feel entitled or justified in some way, or even if they don’t.

Dean has repeatedly shown plenty of regret, guilt and blatant self hatred for his abusive tendencies and how they affect the people around him. It’s one of the most important parts of his character, being the crux of his self worth and why he can’t accept that people (Cas) genuinely care about him or consider him a good person. When he refers to himself as “daddy’s blunt instrument” or “poison,” it isn’t just about being a hunter whose life constantly risks other peoples inescapably, it’s also about the violent nature that’s instilled into Dean constantly by John and how both of those things either isolates him from getting close to anyone else, or drives away people who do get close. That’s why there’s no light at the end of the tunnel for Dean, why he’s so resigned to dying bloody. It’s all he thinks he can ever have or really deserve.

When Jack is dying in 14x07, Dean physically cannot stand to see it. He’s angry that Jack is dying so young and so out of nowhere; he thinks it’s unfair and wrong, point blank. But above all else, (as Sam says) Dean canonically has never forgotten or forgiven himself for how he had treated Jack, even though by this point in time they’ve already had a good relationship for the past two years. He’s angry and upset that Jack is dying, but he’s also upset because he still thinks, after all this time, that he’s never been able to fully make up for what he did, and now he’s lost any chance to with Jack’s limited time. That’s why Dean decides to take him on the road trip; that’s why he says “Who would’ve thought being around me (the person who treated you terribly at one point) would make you (the person who didn’t deserve it) sentimental?”

When Dean leaves Jack’s room for the last time and wounds up being absent for his death, he’s even more upset about it, and later brings it up to take a dig at Sam for thinking he didn’t do enough for Jack because, by Dean’s own admission, Sam had always been the one to do more. “At least you were there for him [because I wasn’t, and I see that as another failure on top of everything else I did to him before].” And then, after the three of them get hammered in Jack’s memory, Dean turns to Cas and asks, “we did everything we could, right?” There’s a lot more in 14x07 but I’ll leave it alone for now, and move onto the redemption part of what you said.

I know I said I disagreed, but really it’s only partially; instead I believe that the show simply didn’t give enough time for a complete redemption (save me spn revival wish fulfillments, spn revival wish fulfillments save me). The end of S14 is basically the destruction of the Team Free Will 2.0 found family unit, not just between Dean and Cas, but also between Dean and Sam, and Jack and the three of them. And I think the reason there’s so much more emphasis on Dean’s relationship with Jack (+ why the family unit falling apart is specifically centered on it) is specifically because of how they started; Dean was initially the only one to be distrustful of Jack and mistreat him as a result, whereas Sam and Cas were willing to see Jack with more humanity and goodness, and when Jack proved that he was good that was the crux of Dean’s guilt going forward; his distrust was wrong and misguided, and the abuse he put Jack through because of it was even more wrong and undeserved.

But then after Mary’s death, the three of them have no idea what to think. They’re more reluctant than Bobby is to admit that Jack could have simply had his evil bone activated after losing his soul/eating Michael’s grace, but they aren’t excluding the idea either. The question up in the air now is: “Was Dean right all along? Were we wrong for trusting Jack and thinking he was good? Is all of this our fault?” (and going back to 14x07, the basic ‘framework’ of Dean’s dynamic with Jack is basically ‘I was wrong about you being evil and now that I love you I want to be keep being wrong about you being evil’ and ‘I want you to be wrong about me being evil too, especially now that you love me and I love you’).

Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack are all presented with the worst case scenario that had always been hanging over Jack’s entire existence. None of them want to believe it after growing so close to him (and vice versa), but they’re not given much else to consider. Mary’s death was one thing, one horrible tragic wound reopening, but they knew it was an accident and they knew Jack had tried to fix it. It isn’t until Duma got her claws into Jack and ordered him to kill nonbelievers that TFW finally decides they have to do something final about Jack, and Dean resumes his militant Kill All Monsters behavior. He’s dissociating into the blunt instrument mindset to protect himself from the grief of losing his mother and potentially losing his son. He can’t even bear to consider Jack his son anymore, both because of Mary and the task of killing him, so Jack becomes “just another monster,” in his dissociative mind. His son wouldn’t have killed Mary or tortured Nick or murdered people randomly because his son was a good person, and his son does not deserve to die, but whatever identical monster has inexplicably replaced Jack would certainly do that and certainly does deserve to die.

Dean’s “poison” is rooted in the fact that his coping mechanisms are intertwined with abusive tendencies and behaviors. He pushes people away if he thinks he doesn’t deserve their respect or love, and he buries any emotional attachment to them because he knows it’s his greatest weakness. That’s why he couldn’t bring himself to shoot Jack, regardless of the grief he felt for Mary or how much he tried to see Jack as a monster that wasn’t really his son. When Jack knelt down, said “I understand. I know what I’ve done. And you were right all along. I am a monster,” and then waited for the gun to go off, that’s what snapped Dean out of it. That’s what got him to see that this was still his son—that and the road trip from 14x07 flashing before his eyes. The grief he feels for Mary’s death is still painful and will be for a long time, but he won’t let it cloud him from seeing that his son is still there and still a good person who deserves the chance to make it right and be forgiven.

That militant dissociation comes back again following Jack’s death and Chuck’s retaliation/reveal that they’ve been nothing but a bunch of lowbrow Truman Burbanks to an unfeeling deity their entire lives. The most recent Destivorce is because Dean has constantly been pushing Cas away and severing their ties to cope with the situation. It’s bad throughout all of S15, but it’s especially worse towards the end when Dean is rampant on Jack’s suicide bomb plan happening for a chance at freedom. I’ve seen a LOT of people say that Dean’s love is conditional because of this, but it really…isn’t.

If Dean never cared about Jack, he’d never take time out of his life to spend some final moments with him, or share a specific father/son memory with him to indirectly communicate that he does see Jack as a son, but ultimately doesn’t feel like he deserves to be a father. If he truly felt that Jack “wasn’t family,” he wouldn’t have shown any of the concern for Jack that he did after Jack detonated in the Empty (frantically demanding to know if he’s alive and to bring him back); he wouldn’t have tried to apologize to Jack for hearing it, and he wouldn’t have *checks transcript* reacted in mild horror at Jack agreeing with what he said (and personally, if I’m insulting someone, I would want them to feel the same way that I feel).

Additionally, If Dean’s love is conditional, particularly on the basis of how useful someone is to him, then he wouldn’t have been expecting Jack to come back home with them or considering buying him actual gifts (a flat screen TV and a recliner, specifically for his room in the Bunker I might add) for saving the world.

Out of all the problems S15 had, I think the pacing was the absolute worst. Too many plots and one-off characters and plot devices squeezed into a short amount of episodes; too much focus put into filler instead of plot progression, etc etc. But what it absolutely missed out on was granting any of the characters any proper closure. I think that’s why Dean’s conflict with Jack feels so unresolved and unredeemed. Dean gets mean -> Dean feels bad -> Dean gets nice again, but that’s about it. For now I tend to view his dynamic with Jack as them being two sides of the same coin: Dean feels like he doesn’t deserve to be a father figure to Jack after everything he did, and Jack feels like he doesn’t deserve to be a part of their family as a son after everything he did.

[the-ampersand]

Since I am still chewing on the DIE Stapling post, I am going to do another about effort mechanics in ttrpgs because I am trying to write that Blasphemous inspired Trophy Gold hack (placeholder name: Penance). And one of the coolest mechanics for Trophy is its Risk Roll, which is basically an effort mechanic.

"But, Ampersand, what is an effort mechanic?" I hear you ask, dear mutual I am making up in my head. An effort mechanic allows you to reroll an action you have already attempted but failed or to get a bonus to a roll at the expense of some resource. Usually, that resource being the character's health. But it can also be something else like clues in an investigative game or even a narrative consequence (but that's usually called a Devil's Bargain).

The important part is that it gives a benefit but requires a sacrifice. And that's when the whole fanfare of psychoeconomics start. Because you need the sacrifice to be big enough to give the player pause and not use it every roll. And also you need the benefit to be significant enough to make it worth the risk and the expense. If properly adjusted, an effort mechanic can become a slow but sure spiral into the characters downfall.

Let's look at some examples!

Numenera is the first system I learn that had such a mechanic (but certainly was not the first ever). It is pretty straightforward in its implementation, too. You spend a fixed amount of the appropriate life pool and you get to reduce the difficulty of a task. Easy enough. But Numenera, being a tradgame as it is, the power creep upends any weight of the sacrifice. Once you level up enough, your pools become deep enough as to make effort something to just add to whichever skill roll you thought it needed a bit more oomph. This is not something wrong per se, but it can easily make your characters overly competent!

On the other hand, there's Dungeon Crawl Classics. DCC is a peculiar OSR game in that it is a really spiced up retroclone, wriggling DnD B/X ruleset to a point where it is almost unrecognizable. I am sure there are plenty effort mechanics peppered in the text, but I want to point out its magic system because I absolutely adore it. To be a wizard in DCC requires active dedication. That is because almost every spell has a writeup of about an A4's length, filled with the various effects a spell may have once the dice is rolled. And the effect can be wildly different from a roll of 5-10 to a roll of as high as 30 or more. There are many ways in which you can tweak your narrative positioning to get bonuses to a spell roll (components, helpers, magic foci, whatever), but when the die is cast and the result is just not good enough you still have a last chance: to sacrifice your own atribute values to get one last push that might be the difference between a proper spell and a fiasco. This is the main cause of withering of elder wizards: they have sacrificed too much in order to achieve the power they sought.

And then, there's Trophy. Both Trophy Dark and Trophy Gold have excellent effort mechanics baked directly into their ADN thanks to the masterful procedure that is the Risk Roll. These are games in which you are tempted first and consumed later by an evil forest. You have a really small ruin pool and once it is filled, you are lost to injury or its dark influence. You are also a destitute adventurer that needs to get any gold or face almost certain death. So you need to get shit done, you need to amass enough successes as to bring bread home and you need to survive the process (or try to, at least). And that's when the Risk Roll comes and lures your with the most satisfying effort mechanic I've ever seen. You can always make a reroll, adding an extra die to your pool to boot. But if those extra dice, dark dice, ever become the highest ones, you automatically mark ruin. You get your success, yes. But you become closer to losing yourself. It exactly hits the spot between actually worth it and inescapably dooming the character.

Obviously not all games need to be about losing oneself to fate or circumstance, but I feel an effort mechanic very much pushes the narrative in that direction. You are sacrificing yourself, in order to achieve your goals.

And I think that's a quite powerful narrative device.

[prnsn001]

I'm gonna be blunt seeing 4B/6b4t being described as "terfy" when all it is is a calculated choice not to get involved in institutions that don't benefit you and actively worsen your life as a woman makes you people sound callous and stupid

Like no marriage no children when both of these can potentially become inescapable death traps via the elimination of no-fault divorce and abortion bans is an easy conclusion to come to; obviously these goals make dating and sex a moot point since these things lead to marriage and children respectively.

It's not a strike, you aren't entitled to a woman's body and money and attention and we are under no obligation to give it to you if you don't even bare minimum respect us and actively seek to legislate away our all-too recently-earned freedoms.

Thinking that this decision really has much of anything to do with attacking men personally is a form of entitlement. You aren't the protagonist, this isn't being "done" to you by an evil collective. If you want someone to be mad at, go attack other men for being so shitty that women don't even want to take your chances with you. Probably look at yourself too, because left-leaning men don't take misogyny seriously either, and are just as likely to be coercive and abusive as right-wing men, having been brought up under the same patriarchy. Frankly, in some ways you leftist guys can be even worse.

Feminists are not going to care about being called TERFs anymore when we're being threatened with bodily harm by people with actual power. Be serious. "What about trans women" isn't going to really move hearts in this situation and frankly my message to these hypothetical trans women is to git gud and actually become allies to feminism, real fucking feminism and not that choice feminism shit, and support female-born women if they want to benefit materially from feminism too.

One last thing, frankly "sounds transphobic" is also a weird stance to take if you remember there are heterosexual trans women. They date men too, they can also decide that dating and risking abuse from misogynistic men isn't worth it even if the chance of pregnancy is nil (also true of infertile women).

A hit dog will holler but the bitch needs to shut up, apparently

[vamptastic]

a significant number of t/rfs seem to both really emphasize the plight of conditions related to the 'female' reproductive system like PCOS, PMDD or endometriosis, how bad they are and that not suffering them is proof that those AMAB can never understand the suffering of womanhood and these are internally female conditions but then ALSO think that seeking a hysterectomy or even just birth control to treat these conditions is inherently wrong and you should only disturb your perfect fertile womanly bits (nevermind they're not actually 'normal' or 'natural' if you need to make them stop working to be healthy) if it's a life or death situation and be suuuuper sad about it too. i think it's a result of the general mindset that womanhood is both inescapable and undesirable.

of course, there are some that go the opposite direction and think pregnancy and periods are inherently oppressive and women should be encouraged to seek out birth control/sterilization as a form of liberation, but it seems less common and falls apart pretty quickly since womanhood as an immutable category featuring those characteristics seems to be a pretty necessary feature if you also want to believe that one cannot become/unbecome female.

i've even seen this with things i wouldn't think are controversial like breast reductions- just one post, so seemingly less common (but i only engage with them by doomscrolling whilst blocking, so I don't know for sure) but a T/ERF made a post expressing a desire for a breast reduction and there were several comments telling her to try to lose weight first for seemingly no reason (you can reduce your breast size a bit via weight loss but not really by enough to reduce symptoms bad enough to want a reduction in the first place- ntm i don't even think this woman was fat and also weight loss is generally not sustainable longterm but that's another post. itd be worth trying before surgery if it worked, but it really doesn't). i think, again, it is just a disgust over what is 'unnatural', and the natural worry over permanently changing your body and potentially losing a function, even a small one, because you may regret it later.

but like with any elective surgery, it's very solipsistic to assume that somebody must not feel those same apprehensions you do about it and has not tried/considered less permanent methods. i think it fundamentally may just be a lack of empathy, in the literal sense: you cannot put yourself in their shoes, because you cannot understand the difficulty of their condition and why they may do something you find scary to alleviate it.

i guess that's the core reason they seem unable to fathom that trans people are willing to endure marginalization and take medical risks to alleviate dysphoria. they simply think transitioning is disgusting and scary, and cannot understand gender dysphoria well enough to comprehend that someone would prefer being transsexual to enduring gender dysphoria.

[box-dwelling]

As always @hamartia-grander has amazing tags

100% all of this. But as I'm in a reblog anyway, I'll add in my 2 cents.

Something I think about a lot is the turning away from the ritual of marriage. So surface level, it's a continuous of him generally disliking the rituals of his station as the grand dukes son while also wanting to maintain the fictional aesthetic of them to some extent. This all ties into being disowned and no longer having that station, as an adult he got to be like the Prince charming of fairytales, he didn't get to be the son of the real grand duke. So I do think he very much only takes the elements of stories that don't also align with the real world rituals he has been banished from. He'll save fair maidens from monsters but he will drink ale not wine to celebrate. Because in the real world he is not better than anyone else. So he will woo his partner with a storybook courtship, but he doesn't actually need marriage to take the next step. How much of this is conscious is debatable, a man is allowed to just like ale, but it is something I think about.

The other thing is, I think there is a small level of coercion in the concept of waiting til marriage. This is more a real world thing. That expectation leads to people rushing quickly into marriages that arent always good but now cant leave them and that entrapment is basically the antithesis of what he'd ever want. He needs that commitment and he needs his partner to know he is committed, but he doesn't want the commitment to be irreversible.

Which is a whole thing you can look into with Mizora, a decision he was rushed into while very young that he was stuck in for years and can only escape at great risk to himself and the people he loves. Which could well also be someone's experience with divorce if they rushed into a marriage with the son of the grand duke. He is not going to ever want to put someone else through that, especially not someone he loves.

Also worth noting the proposal and subsequent sex only happens after everything is resolved with ulder in whatever sense that's going to be, either by death or wyll being welcomed back. Either way he's going to be viewed as the grand dukes son at this point for better or worse, so that unavoidable power imbalance is going to be there.

But he still wants to enact the storybook script and he needs to have that commitment level established. But the world is ending, both of them might not make it so he has to hurry this along, but he cant allow it to be inescapable. Hence, a proposal. It provides a suitable end point for the idealised script he has in his head of a courtship before anyone dies, it establishes commitment, but it can be broken off at any point with no consequence. And because of that he's finally comfortable sleeping with someone

I understand why this is a misconception people have but I think we need to recognise that Wyll is not a wait until marriage guy. Wyll is canonically a wait until probably too quick engagement guy. And those are two very different things.

[birthdaycakeplate]

Ceasefire Au Part 3

Bee thinks Blitzwing gets crushed under some rubble. Now complete with embarrassing scribble✨

Prepare yourselves for some major Blitzbee fluff. Hooooo boy, does it get gay.

💕Warnings in the tags (but no actual serious content warnings I don’t think, so I don’t suppose there are any triggers worth checking them for)

(But just in case)

————————

Blitzwing flinched awake at the clatter of tumbling concrete across his wingstruts. His optics opened to total dark, surrounding him in every direction. It took all of a klik for his system to reboot and stream the last 10 seconds of consciousness straight to his processor.

Bumblebee had been about to be crushed under a building, collapsing inward after Blitzwing’s crashing through it. Why the Bug insisted on fighting so close at his side when he’d warned him time and time again something like this could happen was infuriating.

Regardless, the triple changer had scrambled to his pedes, unable to recover from his rough landing quite yet, and could do little more than move to push the bot out of the way, or shield him entirely with his massive body. He was thankful he had enough processing power in that disorienting moment to avoid risking the latter, in case something managed to pierce his plating, however unlikely an Earth made product could actually accomplish that.

He’d pushed him instead and took the brunt of the falling rubble on his wings and shoulders. Feeling himself pinned beneath for all of a blink before he was left unconscious.

Awake now and happy to see he was as impenetrable a force as any Cybertronian death machine, war tank should be, Blitzwing began to free himself. Shifting and twisting until the final layer of wreckage was a thin strip above his helm and a single push off and away from him with a single servo.

Freed, despite the debris cluttered about his mid thigh and pedes, Blitzwing stretched tall and extended his wings behind him to test their sensitivity.

Everything was in perfect condition. As it should be.

But then a familiar little gasp from somewhere below brought that inescapable dread back to the pit of his tanks.

Had Bumblebee been hit?! Had he failed to push him far enough away!?

He frantically looked down to find a yellow ball, curled up at the edge of the rubble, looking utterly exhausted at his own two servos.

“Bumblebee!” Blitzwing shouted far louder than necessary. He broke a pede free and swung his thigh clear out of the pile that’d formed around him. In one giant step, he swooped down to reach for his wounded companion and bring him in close. The knot forming in his chest near painful. 

Bee didn’t protest, clinging weakly to the large servo closing over his flimsy waist and hoisting him away from the mess below.

At optic level, Blitzwing looked his backstrut over first, already hailing Ratchet on his comm line, when that silly little horned helm snapped up with blazing blue optics and a furious little frown.

“Bumble-“

“You could have been killed, you idiot!”

Blitzwing stalled a moment, wondering what he’d missed in the last few moments before he’d been knocked out that’d make the other say such a thing, before he realized-

“....From... what?.... From a building?”

How about ‘no’?

The closest he’d ever come to offlining was with spark chamber filling with nitrogen from his own busted fuel lines, nearly drowning him from the inside out. Which Astortrain had gotten a kick out of later when Hook had announced he’d officially survived the ordeal.

A falling building, though? One only a few hundred feet taller than himself? He’d had a shuttle fall on him. Primus, he’d been strangled by a Six Changer and lived through that easily enough with the help of his naturally dense armor.

And here Bee was, looking dangerously close to watery optics, thinking he’d been dead.

Blitzwing’s spark did a summersault.

“Jou insult me.” He said then, as aloofness was infinitely more manageable than a proper kiss to the little sweetspark’s reddening cheeks.

“Good! You insulted me first by almost dying!”

“Zat vouldn’t have done more zen knock me unconscious for a few moments-“

“Dude, that’s not good! Your processor needs to be checked!”

“I’ve commed for Ratchet. Vunce he’s checked jou out, I’ll have him look at my processor.” He joked, as it was clearly nothing as simply as that. Even having the audacity to roll his optics and sigh.

Bumblebee was practically shaking. Absolutely outraged by his attitude of the whole thing- of taking an entire building on for him like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Bumblebee had stopped caring ages ago what kind of stress their new war frame companions could and couldn’t significantly more successfully handle than them.

“Check me!? You’re the one that got hurt, BlitzBrain!”

“Not hardly.” The other snorted, and turned his helm up and away. ‘Unbothered’.

He made to put the little minibot down on his stabilizers to prove to him then that he could walk around without processor lag when two little palms shot out, quick as lightening, and cupped him round the cheeks.

Blitzwing jolted, opening his mouth to throw more half sparked reassurances at the worrisome bot that this little incident had been no big deal when a warm mouth deftly closed over it.

He jerked, unconsciously rushing to arrange the little mech in his arms better, as the fear of dropping him from his now lagging processor was very real and very probable.

Bee held on, sinking his tiny little digits into sensitive seams as leverage to push himself up into the kiss. The kiss Blitzwing couldn’t have prepared himself for with a million astro-seconds of warning. Deep and urgent.

He made a noise he wasn’t proud of, especially when it reverberated loudly as Bumblebee chose that very moment to pull away.

“B-Bee, I- slag, I-I...”

Then those soft, courageous lips began to pepper themselves over every inch of exposed faceplate. Choosing stretches of soft dermamesh in every direction to adorn with his affections, no particular pattern to his fevered kisses leaving several spots kissed twice.

Blitzwing’s wingstruts fanned themselves in quick short bursts. An instinctual effort to relief their tension from the plating in his back and shoulders from where he’d gone stiff against the assault of kisses. Trying to redirect any undue pressure from his delicate hinges back there.

It still looked as utterly ridiculous as any thousand foot war machine, flickering his wings like a giant dragonfly would. Only the light catching on the metal brought a flash across their glimmering surface in the most alluring way to any wandering, welcoming optics -and served as a dangerous warning to any interested parties to back off.

This was his catch wrapped up in his servos, kissing on him. So, back off or lose a limb.

His. His.

“Oh, Spark.” Bumblebee mumbled in absolute exhaustion against Blitzwing’s lower lip. Sounding completely defeated, helpless even.

“Blitz- baby, I thought you were a goner.”

Yesss. All his.

He forced himself to find his vocalizer long enough to ease the little bot so broken and tired, held close in his arms.

“I’m sturdier zan jour puny little frame, Bug. I can easily take on a building.”

“But your wing only just healed. Again!” Bee pulled his helm away, still clinging to his collar with both hands, and looked up at him with the biggest puppy eyes Blitzwing had thought he’d only ever see on Sari.

“They must have hurt so bad!”

Blitzwing struggled not to kiss him stupid and happy again right there. Worrying about his safety, worrying about his wings- having bothered to learn more explicitly about their delicate nature enough to know they needed special treatment.

Having been the bot not so long ago to offer them such with a careful massage.

This little Autobot...

“Zhey feel much better now.” He murmured. A gentle rumble in his chest from his fluctuating engine made the words a bit more huskier sounding than calming. Bee didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“And I’m safe -zat’s all zat matters, hm?”

Bumblebee clearly disagreed, if the little pout and sad, glowing optics were anything to go by.

That he thought nuzzling up under Blitzwing’s chin and kissing about his jawline was the only satisfying solution for such was just fine with the triple changer. Even titling his helm this way and that for the substantially smaller bot to reach every bit of untouched faceplate he could.

Melting from spark to toe-pede in the fervent kisses along his sensor rich dermamesh.

“Ehem.” Somebot somewhere awkwardly reset their vocalizer, and Blitzwing and his doting little nurse were stopped frozen in place. Slowly turning to address the wide pairs of optics in varying stages of disbelief and resignation looking their way. Having stood there in a frigid horror to watch the show, apparently.

Megatron, having wrestled Optimus clear of fallen debris finally, was stood at the little bot’s side looking a hundred years late to recharge.

“Well, this complicates things.....” He drawled, causing Blitzwing to unconsciously flinch.

But the little firetruck looked significantly more distressed, seeming transfixed on the yellow minibot bundled up in the arms of thousands of tonnes of deadly war machine, waiting with silent terror as to whether his smallest teammate would be safely released back down or torn apart with a single servo. Unable to make sense of the scene before him just yet.

Blitzwing did put Bee down then, if only to keep the peace, and was rewarded with a more surprised and curious than concerned looking Optimus. Seemingly coming to his own realization then that Blitzwing might sooner tear out his own tcog than assault his naive, most vulnerable crew mate.

Two leaders of two separate factions looking surprisingly amenable to the current circumstances down. Now two giant mecha of muscle and stature  -their closest companions, in fact- to go.

Blitzwing nervously locked optics with Lugnut, who’d practically lost his jaw off its hinges in total awe of the sight. Of his cruel, indifferent, icy companion sinking into a puddle under the lavish heat of a delicate mouth around his colored cheekplates.

Slag....

Then the bomber plane began to speak in a hurried panic.

“Ah- uh- Per- Perhaps it does not complicate things so much, Glorious Leader!” He bellowed, stumbling over his words.

“You are aware of how impulsive we Decepticons can be in the heat of battle!”

Of how most all war frames were eager to make questionable... ‘recreational’ decisions after the thrill of fight had failed to leave their overtaxed systems. Wired by design to fulfill the urges of an adrenaline rush through whatever satisfying measures necessary. Sometimes with more fighting, sometimes with more ‘accommodating’ means of stimulation.

Optimus seemed to be aware, if his own flushing cheekpkates meant anything. And Blitzwing would love to know what that was about.

Blitzwing chose not to elaborate then how uneventful having a building topple him over had been as opposed to the actual, dangerous combat moments before it, and what that accurately, did in fact, do to his overcharged systems. The other war frames knew perfectly well that was the case already, and that Lugnut was trying to save face for him -sweet- in front of their abnormally vacant leader.

When silence followed uncomfortably loudly in Lugnut’s delirious place, Bulkhead simply sighed.

“...I guess I saw it coming....”

And that struck a nerve.

“You did not!” Bumblebee screeched this unholy thing, high and strained enough to burst even Blitzwing’s audials from all the way up there.

But that did mean they had two more bots willing to accept this forsaken union. In their own way....

“Well, I did.” Prowl snipped, coming up from behind the pair. They turned to see him, his visor cracked in places and his claws a bit dulled.

“You did not!” Bee shouted again, whipping a finger out and stomping after him when he slipped between the couple. Either more certain he could do more damage to him than Bulkhead, who was four times his size, or simply more spurred on by their endless bickering to risk another of Prowl’s crushing headlocks to ensure himself the proper respect.

“You’ve been staring after him anytime he leaves the room for the last Quartex.”

“I- Fr- B- I- I do not! Prowl, you tree hugging-“

Blitzwing took that opportunity to look back towards their gathering audience once more -not the least bit surprised Ratchet had excused himself entirely after Megatron had said his piece- to reassess his leaders.

The little Prime was watching with hooded optics, seemingly unbothered by this startlingly new revelation any longer, and observing his teammates rush at each other’s throats, as causally as if it were any other day back at base.

Megatron, to Blitzwing’s momentary confusion, was more focused on discreetly scanning the little mech below for any excess damage.

He decided not to look into why that was, as deniability would make it far easier to ignore what had so evidently been possessing them all as of late when it came to these rambunctious little civil frames.

It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one so affected by a cute little mech with big, bright eyes, though.

———————-

They kind of gettin’ official now 😭 I mean the mouth kissing is one thing, but coupled with the special wing treatment last time... There’s no denying in Blitzwing’s overclocked processor that these two are getting serious.

You know what isn’t serious? Whatever threat I previously, vaguely imagined for this AU to exist. Thank God I never established what that was. That’d be too much writing.

Also I made this like hours after posting>>>

Just make him take it Bee boy

[verai-marcel]

Master List of RDR2 Fics

Last Updated: 3/18/2023

Trigger Warnings in (parenthesis), other tags in Chapter 1 or beginning of fic. If a link doesn’t work, check #writing or #rdr2 fanfic or #rdr2 drabble or #rdr2 headcanons to find it. Latest fics have a *NEW* next to them.

I’ll try to mark things as Female Reader (F!Reader), Male Reader (M!Reader), or Gender Neutral Reader (GN!Reader). If I forget, just let me know so I can update.

Red Dead Online Original Characters are on the bottom of this list. Also find them tagged under #rdo oc.

Also all my fics (including ones not posted on tumblr) can be found on my AO3 page here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verai

——————————————–

One Shots (Newer fics at the top of the list):

Spy Awry 2: Mail Room Boogaloo - Arthur x Fem!Reader, modern AU, 18+ (DubCon) 

Spy Awry - Arthur x Fem!Reader, modern AU, 18+ (DubCon)

Serendipitous Meetings - Arthur x Fem!Reader, modern AU, 18+

Forever and Always -  Arthur x Fem!Reader, fluff 

Of Dragons and Love - Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+

Sharing is Caring - Arthur x Fem!Reader, Charles x Fem!Reader, 18+

Maid for Him - Arthur x Fem!Reader, Canon divergent AU, 18+

A Bear of a Man - Werebear Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+

Know Your Place - Angry Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+ (NonCon, DubCon)

——————————————–

My Series:

The Upsides of Property Damage (3 of 5 chapters posted, Ongoing, co-author with @shootybangbang)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 

Double Dedication - AU, Morgan Twins x F!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Between High & Low: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Possession & Punishment

Payback

Vulgarity & Vows: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 

Noir AU - Arthur is head of security in a night club run by the Van der Linde family, and you’re a backup singer in the club. (Complete)

My Song Bird - Arthur x Singer Fem!Reader, 18+

Instinct - Arthur x Singer Fem!Reader, 18+ 

Ride Through My Heart - Modern AU - “Biker AU” - Tattoo Artist Arthur x Dancer Fem!Reader, John x Florist Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Before This Dance Is Through - Modern AU Tattoo Artist Arthur x Dancer Fem!Reader - Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Clean - Side Story

The Light That You Shine - John x Florist F!Reader - Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

The Things That We Could Be - Charles x Journalist F!Reader - Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

This Is Perfection - Model Javier x Photo Intern Fem!Reader

Do What I Dare - Tattoo Artist Arthur x Dancer Fem!Reader

Neighborly Affection - AKA “Neighbor AU”, Modern Mechanic Arthur x IT Help Tech Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

The Man Next Door: Chapter 1 - Beginnings | Chapter 2A - High Honor Arthur version | Chapter 2B - Low Honor Arthur version

First Round’s On You: Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Meeting The Friends - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Playing Dress-Up - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Stress Relief - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Taking Time For You - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor 

Tech Support - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Domestic Bliss - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Life Level Up - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor | Epilogue

Corrections - Modern AU - “Prisoner AU” - Prisoner/Construction Worker Arthur x Prison Guard Fem!Reader, Charles x Vet Fem!Reader, Javier x Barista Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Submit to Release - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, originally a request one-shot (DubCon)

Side Story: Arthur’s First Day Out - Arthur & Charles, best buddies

Invitation Only - Medium Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader

Into The Wolf’s Den | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2  - Medium Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader

Revealing More - Medium Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader

The Reality of Idle Fantasies  - Medium Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader

Lost and Found - Charles x Fem!Reader

Side Story: Charles Volunteers - Charles volunteers at an animal shelter

More Than Words | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 - Charles x Fem!Reader

Confessing Darkness - Arthur x Fem!Reader

Caring for Kitten - Charles x Fem!Reader

All Tied Up - Arthur x Fem!Reader

Breaking Habits - Charles x Fem!Reader

Absolution - Arthur x Fem!Reader

What Is Real | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 - Javier x Fem!Reader

Sweet Surrender - Arthur x Fem!Reader

Forever In Your Arms - Vampire Arthur x F!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Part 1: Midnight Rendezvous: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Part 2: Midnight Promises: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 (TW: some angst, assisted suicide, death, blood)

Desperate Desire - AU - “Deputy AU” - Deputy Arthur x Doctor’s Assistant/Burglar Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Sinful Payment: Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader (NonCon)

A Fortnight of Falling: Medium to High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader (DubCon)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

A Reason to Return - High Honor Arthur

An Unconventional Union - High Honor Arthur

Inescapable Rapture: Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader (DubCon)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Back Alleys Are No Place For Proper Ladies - Low Honor Arthur, Consensual Non-consent

Taste of You - Incubus!Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Part 1: The Sweet Taste of You

Part 2: The Pure Taste of You

Inevitably, Irrevocably - Arthur x Female OC (Links to AO3)(Complete)

Trial

Tribulation

Torment

Tempest

Terminal

Time & Again

A Corrupting Touch - Low Honor Arthur x Gender Neutral Reader, 18+ (Complete) (DubCon, NonCon)

Part 1: Compulsion (NonCon)

Part 2: Coercion (NonCon)

Part 3: Constriction (NonCon)

Part 4: Captivation (DubCon)

Captured Hearts - Low Honor Arthur x Bounty Hunter Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete) (DubCon)

Part 1: Reversal of Fortune

Part 2: Chase Me Down

Part 3: Let Go

Part 4: Breaking Point (TW: Attempted Rape)

Wind and Water - Arthur x OC, Grace Chang - Short fics

Open Hand, Closed Fist

Chopsticks

In The Palm Of His Hand

A Name By Any Other

——————————————–

Tumblr requests/gifts (Newer fics at the top of the list):

Not What He Seems - Arthur x Fem!Reader, High & Low honor, 18+ 

Low Honor  |  High Honor

Holiday Surprise - Charles x Fem!Reader, Christmas Lovin’, 18+

Heart of Starlight - Arthur x Unnamed Female, Mythology-inspired, 18+

After-Heist Delight - Samson Finch x Fem!Reader, 18+ 

Snapped -  High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+ (Slightly DubCon)

Time For Us - Charles x Arthur, fluff, romance

A Smile Worth More Than Gold - Arthur x Eleanor Ivie (OC), fluff, romance

Hidden Desires - Low Honor Arthur x F!Reader, 18+

Surprises - Arthur x Gender Neutral Reader, lingerie, 18+

Motivational Training - Dual Honor Arthur x Gender Neutral Reader, Modern AU, 18+

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2A - High Honor | Chapter 2B - Low Honor

Healing Touch - Low Honor Arthur x Healer Fem!Reader, 18+

Locker Room Lesson - Arthur, John, Charles, & Javier x Fem!Reader, Modern AU, 18+

Rough Competition - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader Outlaw, 18+

Helping Hands - Low Honor & High Honor Arthur x GN!Reader with sensitive gag reflex, Short Fic, 18+

Better Than a Dream - High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader Outlaw, 18+

Solicitations - Arthur x Fem!Reader, based off this drabble, 18+

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Business Time at the Bistro - Store Manager Arthur x Fem!Reader, Modern AU, 18+

untitled drabble, takes place after story

Alternative Payment - Low Honor Arthur x In Debt Fem!Reader, 18+ (NonCon/DubCon)

Trapper Keeper - Arthur x Trapper Fem!Reader, 18+

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2A: High Honor | Chapter 2B: Low Honor

Just This Once - Arthur x Abigail, 18+

Giving Up Ain’t So Bad - Low Honor Arthur x Bratty Fem!Reader, 18+ (DubCon)

Reading Between The Lines - Arthur x Librarian Fem!Reader, 18+ (Mild DubCon)

Mail for You - Low Honor Arthur x Mail Carrier Fem!Reader, 18+

The Better to Take You  - Werewolf Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+

RIde'em Cowgirl - Low Honor Arthur x Drunk Fem!Reader, 18+

A Curious Experiment - Low Honor Bounty Hunter Arthur x Reader, 18+ (DubCon)

Male Reader | Female Reader

Defying Discipline - Low Honor Professor Arthur x Fem!Reader, Modern AU, One shot, 18+ (DubCon)

Playing for Keeps - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+ (NonCon, DubCon)

Worth the Risk - High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+

Steal A Moment With You - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+

Lesson In Humility - Low Honor Arthur x Rich Virgin Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+

One and Only - High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, 4 Chapters, 18+

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Getting Into Character - High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+

A Hard Lesson - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+ (DubCon)

——————————————–

Tumblr Headcanons: Search for RDR2 Headcanons!

——————————————–

Tumblr Drabbles:

untitled - Charles x Reader, fluff by the campfire (Gender Neutral)

Sensitive - Arthur x F!Reader who orgasms too easily, 18+

Installing - Arthur helps install your cable modem (Gender Neutral)

untitled - Arthur has a skinny crush (Gender Neutral)

When Love Blooms - Arthur is the Death Horseman

Arthur in Modern Times AU Series (Gender Neutral):

untitled - Christmas time, Arthur gets a mistletoe belt buckle.

untitled - Arthur helps get rid of your headache, 18+

untitled - Arthur learns about BDSM, 18+

Caught - Wacom Tablet Pt. 2 - Arthur learns what a blow job is, 18+

Wacom Tablet Pt. 1 - Arthur learns how to use a Wacom tablet

untitled - Arthur helps crack your back (Gender Neutral)

Part 1 | Part 2 - Arthur gives you hugs (Gender Neutral)

untitled - Charles gives you a comforting hug (Gender Neutral)

Imagine bartender!Arthur - Arthur as a modern day bartender (Gender Neutral)

Black Belle - Arthur submitting to Black Belle, 18+

Shower Singing - Modern!Arthur sings in the shower, F!Reader

Uniformly Speaking - Arthur as a UPS delivery man, Modern AU, GN!Reader

untitled - Arthur teaches GN!Reader how to kiss

untitled - Beer enthusiast GN!Reader x Arthur

untitled - Soliciting Arthur for “services” (Gender Neutral)

untitled - Merperson GN!Reader x Arthur

Dream Dad - Single Dad Arthur x Single Parent Reader, Gender Neutral

untitled - Bartender!F!Reader x Arthur

untitled - Gender neutral reader sucks on Arthur’s fingers, 18+

untitled - Modern AU, Charles practices hairdressing on you (Gender Neutral).

Change of Standards - Modern AU, Arthur & You walk through Target (Gender Neutral).

See What I See - Modern AU, Arthur gets scouted by a modeling agent (F!Reader).

Timeslip - Modern AU, Arthur falls into a time portal and meets you (Gender Neutral).

GIve or Take - Arthur drops his journal, and you pick it up (Gender Neutral).

——————————————–

Everett Osborn - RDO OC

Everett’s Backstory

Cactus - A short convo between Everett and the local sheriff.

Everett x Thief F!Reader series (Complete):

Domestication - Everett traps you, 18+ (DubCon)

Dominion - Everett finds you again, 18+ (DubCon)

Rewarding His Pet - Everett runs into you and gives you a reward, 18+

Between the Law - Everett x GN!Reader x Tom Davies, 18+

Mistaken - Drabble - Everett gets mistaken for another cowboy.

untitled - Drabble - Everett meets said cowboy after borrowing his hat.

An Unexpected Development - Everett x Allie Foster, RDO AU, OC x OC, 18+

Verai Marcel AKA Min - RDO OC

Verai’s Back Story

untitled - Drabble - A little bit of angst, featuring Fletcher

Firsts & Lasts - Verai/Min x Mateo, a story of her past, 18+

Everett x Verai x Mateo

Inexplicably Inevitable - Min & Everett run into a ghost from the past. 18+, MM, MMF

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 *NEW*

Everett x Verai

Dumpling - Verai/Min & Everett make new year’s dumplings.

Counting Stars - Songfic, Verai & Everett work on their relationship.

untitled - Drabble, Verai & Everett, right after their first night.

Forward - Drabble, Verai, with Everett’s help, moves forward from her past.

Cathartic - Verai tells Everett about someone she loved in the past.

We’ve Only Just Begun - Full Fic - When Everett met Verai for the first time.

Braid - Short Fic - Everett has more skills than he lets on.

Decision - Short Fic - Everett makes a decision. Feature Kira, Stevie, & Ruby from Death Squad.

Stay - Drabble - Everett finds his safe place.

Soft OC Ask - Drabble - A short journal entry from Verai about Everett.

Names - Drabble - Everett asks Verai for her real name.

Rain - Drabble - Everett has a moment in the rain with Verai.

[doberbutts]

I think maybe the stupidest thing I’ve seen someone say re how trans men somehow don’t experience unique oppression is that a pretty popular blog (prideknights) made a post for trans day of remembrance and someone reblogged it with a huge nasty comment (to the best of my recollection) saying it was a bad post bc it didn’t specify clearly enough that the people most affected by murder were trans women and that it was inappropriate for transmascs (or any non transfem) to make Tdor posts or talk abt mortality rates. I want to say it was one of the ppl spearheading the harassment campaign but don’t quote me on that. And im like. How quickly people forget Brandon teena and the trans man that was found stabbed to death in a cannal last year ish - and all the victims of suicide, which apparently isn’t worth remembering bc ppl just do that for no reason, it’s not like transphobic society is the cause of it/ holds responsibility. Ugh. Makes me bitter.

Even if it was 100% true, "most affected" does not mean "never happens to anyone else".

And I honestly think that's where the miscommunication is. People will wield that "most affected" claim as both sword and shield without stopping to realize that "most affected" never meant "so no one else deals with this". There is also rarely a consideration for "most affected because xyz other reason"- the trans women who are the most affected by murder stats (in the US) are usually trans women of color, usually specifically black trans women.

This is an important distinction to make because of systemic pressure on black people resulting in us taking more low paying, high risk jobs and at the same time denies us higher education or even completing high school. Which results in higher rates of extreme poverty, which results in more high risk behavior, which results in higher amounts of inescapable violence, which results in higher murder stats. Add to it that all black people are at risk of coming across a violently racist white person who is more than willing to spill blood to get their racist rocks off, all black women (and anyone who is perceived as a black woman) are seen both as animals and as "fair game" to would-be rapists, all black men (and anyone who is perceived as a black man) are held to impossibly high standards of masculinity that is usually violently enforced and heavily punished for any "deviation"... and now we know why TDoR lists every year are like 90% black trans women who are being "punished" on multiple axis for what is effectively Being Too Black To Gender This Way. And since trans people are Shroedinger's Gender in which they are both and neither male and female depending on how the aggressor wants to justify their violence...

Quite frankly if we want to get into The Most Affected then only black people should be speaking on this particular topic. But that would be ridiculous, because others who have been affected aren't black and aren't trans women and some of them aren't even trans but are gnc and that was seen as "enough".

Most of the Pulse shooting victims that lost their lives that night were gay men. But some of them were bi, or pan, or questioning, or hadn't put a label on it. Some of them were women. Should only the gay men be talking about it since they were the most affected? Or do the other affected groups also have a right to say that this has also hurt them?

I think we all deserve a chance to talk about the way things have negatively affected us, especially when there are literal body counts to be had.

[thenightmareofyourdrems]

              ˜”*°•.    Numbers   did  not  lie , but  hope  did . To  take  it and  destroy  it , twist  it ,  eliminate it  not  even in  the  slightest  nice . Her  daughter  was finally  happy ,  finally capable  of  living a  normal  life away  from  the  restraints   of manipulation  and  control . That  smile  on her  face  better than  anything  she’d ever  seen .  And it  was  painful ; to  betray  her , to  let  the whole  train  know of  the  lies they’d  once  again been  told .  War so  inescapable  - for  what  was the  alternative  ?  How would  she  convince either  of  them that  the  chase of  a  single hope  was  not worth  the  derailment of  everything  they’d been  trying  to protect  ?

 ❝ They  are  determined .  They  will  do  anything  to get  into  the engine .  ❞  To  stay  locked up  there  something she  was  more than  willing  to  do .  And yet ,  it’d  still  come  with risks .  A  war on  the  other hand  bound to  spread blood  and  death and   more  grief . Every  choice  a  certain  disaster . But  Marisa  was there …  she  was there  and  she wanted  to  believe they  were  standing on  the  same side ;  their  views different  at  times but  their  target just  the  same .

 ❝ I  don’t want  another  war . But  Layton  will react . ❞  To  forever keep  the  engine  locked  impossible .  And with  Ben  refusing to  listen  to  her ,  she’d have  to  do it  alone .  Control the  train   -  steal  it . Such  a  repletion  of the  past ,  wasn’t it  ?  To learn  from  history impossible  -  not when  it  knew exactly  how  to make  the  dead ends  unavoidable . ❝  I  am sorry  for  this. ❞  The  blood painting  the  other’s clothes …   but  she’d been  scared .  Death evaded  so  many times ,  postponed  . But  it  wasn’t death  that  she’d been  afraid  of . No .  It’d  been the  fact  that  if  she was  gone ,  they  would  do  it .  They would  derail  the train  in  the  name  of a  misplaced  faith .

˚ · .✧˚ · .✧˚ · . melanie's sudden absence at the party noticed almost immediately ; while others care for nothing but the damned pyramids, marisa had already been on her way uptrain — wilford missed certainly by no more than minutes — in hope of finding melanie already back in the engine. the intent clear, for she, indeed, made her doubts very much known to all of them.

❝ we just need time. keep them out of the engine long enough to miss the turn. for now. ❞ to plan far ahead impossible. a bloodbath to follow likely, yes, but so was the chance at actual dialogue. however hurt & betrayed neither alexandra nor ben would allow the others to just get them killed. ❝ but not wilford. . . you saw what he did to the brakemen-- i saw it too. & first, it will be layton along with everyone else you care about. then, he will come for you too. to derail or get slaughtered — not much of a difference. . . ❞

had her eyes turned the other way, it was only to trace the movement of the weapon. her own hand loosening its hold, eventually dropping into the crimson stain at her lap, applying some pressure to the wound ; time came in favour of the fire-numb sensation becoming more clamant. melanie's wariness understandable ; trust ever difficult in the past, & marisa doing little to provide with any kind of predictability. truth be told, often times herself being uncertain about next best thing ( for herself ). to become the voice of reason, to stand against violence certainly unexpected possition to find herself in.

❝ just. . . ❞ the woman swallowed thickly. ❝ let us do this together. i am with you. ❞ ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

[retvenkos]

newfound love | t.l.

Little Women - Laurie Laurence x Reader, slight angst, fluff

tw: mentions of a dead mother

word count: 1.9k

A/N: i’m apparently incapable of writing fluff without first mentioning crushing loss, so that’s fun.

prompt: we’re going out in the cold for a walk, and I know you don’t want to get wet, but I’m trying to convince you to make a snow angel with me

The first thing (Y/n) knew was the cold. From the moment they had been born, they knew the icy touch of frigid air and the bite of snow. Winter babies were often babies who didn’t survive, but it had been their mother that didn’t last the night. Their family had mourning during the most dangerous of seasons, snow falling on their cheeks and melting at their hot tears.

Ever since, (Y/n) knew that winters often brought more problems than they were worth - from the cold, to the lack food, to the bouts of sickness that always seemed to follow, and the tight grasp of melancholy that held their heart hostage. Times were hard enough without the troubles of a changing season, and to have winter come early was simply cruel.

Already the winds had changed, and sometimes, when (Y/n) looked around at the people who surrounded them, they thought they could tell who was already blown away.

Laurie had always been rather good at convincing them that it was just worry, but the feeling never left, just gnawed a little less. 

Now, with the war being what it was, there was more at risk, and more that ate at (Y/n), devouring the very root of their being. It hadn’t taken long for Laurie to notice the strength of (Y/n)’s grief, that year, and he had grown intent on trying to show (Y/n) the beauty of winter, even with it’s hardship and death.

“You can’t just have one,” he had said, sounding much older than he usually did. “Everything is good and bad.”

“Are we?”

And Laurie had laughed unabashedly, as though the thought had never crossed his mind. (Y/n) hadn’t admitted it, then, but they resolved that if naivete was the worst of Laurie’s offenses, they could fall in love with all of him - the good and bad.

In his attempts to demonstrate the enchantment of winter (because Laurie was a true romantic, and he did insist winter was enchanting), he had exhausted every effort he could think of.

He had taken (Y/n) out to ice skate, had taken them to a winter dance, and had even stolen some of his grandfather’s seasonal wines for them to share. Although that last one was largely a success, before they were caught, (Y/n) still couldn’t shake the idea that winters brought nothing but misery. It was an instinct set deep in the fibre of their soul; something created the moment they were born, when the ice and cold had stolen them from the warmth of a mother.

It seemed, even with Laurie’s efforts, that there was one inescapable truth about (Y/n)’s experiences:

Winters were bleak and their frosts were long, lingering well after the snow had melted and the sun dared to peek out once more.

When it neared the end of winter, (Y/n) had assumed that Laurie had let his little project go. It had been a while since he asked them about their opinion of the winter months, and while (Y/n) still caught him staring every once in a while, he made no effort to speak of what he was thinking.

On a day when the cold seemed to be letting up, (Y/n) and Laurie made plans to meet the next day. He had some books he wanted them to see, and (Y/n) was in the throes of  a crisis - finding themself unable to oppose Laurie’s good, if often too forward, nature.

When (Y/n) woke to find that it had snowed sometime between night and early morning, they had sighed, but steeled themself to the reality of it. The day prior they had promised Laurie they would go over, and when Laurie had smiled, they had even promised to be in a better mood. Laurie had said that they needn’t hide their feeling for his sake, but (Y/n) put their hands over his and told them they wanted to.

“It won’t be winter for much longer.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time (Y/n) managed to speak too soon.

Bundled in their warmest clothes, (Y/n) had set out in the cold, intent to walk to Laurie’s house, no matter the weather. The snow crunched beneath their boots, and the rising sun made a blinding glare against the white expanse, but they journeyed forth.

Laurie didn’t live too far away from (Y/n). In the summer months, walking to his house was a welcome distraction and the view of the world in full bloom never ceased to amaze them. (Y/n) looked around at the snow covered world around them and tried to appraise it in Laurie’s eyes - what enchanting beauty could be found, when everything was frozen in time?

Perhaps there was something beautiful in the vastness of it - when covered in snow, the world didn’t seem to end at definite horizon. The clouded sky met the snowy land in a sort of haze - one color mixing with the other and never quite distinguishing itself. And the icicles hanging from trees seemed to shine like diamonds when the sunlight hit them, just right. The ice was sharp and deadly, yes, but it was also delicate and easily broken. 

(Y/n) stopped beneath a tree and when they looked back at the way they came, there was almost something poetic in the way their steps had made a trail - like their existence in the world left a mark, no matter how small.

(Y/n) looked down at their shoes, shaking their head at their own thoughts. If only Laurie saw them now - he might think all of this was his doing.

Perhaps it was.

(Y/n) scuffed the fresh layer of snow with the tip of their shoe, revealing some of the grass beneath - a dark green that reminded (Y/n) of the decorations Laurie had insisted on putting up, claiming that the atmosphere alone would be enough to convince them of the beauty of winter.

(Y/n) was careful to admit it, but all of Laurie’s antic - from the most simple to the elaborate - had made them feel better. Most of the time. Laurie’s presence alone was enough to coax happiness out of them, pushing down that melancholy that stubbornly clung to their being.

“(Y/n)!” A voice brought them out of their thoughts, and it took a moment for (Y/n) to realize they had been smiling.

Laurie, wrapped in a thick coat, was running over to them, his expression a blur and hair flying wild. The sun was rising with him and made it hard to focus on his nearing figure for long, but when he was close enough, Laurie blocked the glare with an amusement that seemed to shine brighter than his heavenly competitor.

“I didn’t think you’d come out for a walk.”

(Y/n) brought a hand up to tame his hair. “Well, I did promise you, didn’t I?”

Laurie nodded his head, dark hair flying once more. “I just thought that with the snow, you might have changed your mind.”

“If it was anyone else, I would have.”

“Do I really mean that much to you?”

(Y/n) felt their cheeks get hot and burrowed their face deeper into their scarf. Laurie hummed in acknowledgement, neither triumphantly nor disappointedly, just markedly.

“You wouldn’t be admiring the weather, would you? I was trying to compose a poem on my way here - something that would capture the essence of a final snow.” (Y/n) scoffed and Laurie’s teasing eyes caught their gaze. “Perhaps you have a line or two to add?”

“Maybe,” (Y/n) conceded, “but only if I can write it somewhere warm - preferably in front of a fireplace, with those books you mentioned.”

The two set off in the way Laurie had come, (Y/n) making it a point to step in his footprints from earlier so that they might avoid getting wet anymore than they already were. Despite having consented to the idea that the winter might be slightly beautiful, in its own, haunting sort of way, (Y/n) was still averse to the cold, and there was nothing worse than the kind of cold that stuck to your skin after getting your clothes wet.

It was when Laurie’s house was in sight, and closer to them than the distant horizon, that snow started to fall from the heavens, sprinkling through Laurie’s dark hair and settling on his scarf. A snowflake fell on (Y/n)’s eyelashes, and they took in a breath, preparing to sigh, but stopped themself short. Laurie looked at them from the corner of his eye, just barely managing to suppress a smile from creeping onto his lips; there was affection in his eyes, though, sweet and pure.

“(Y/n),” Laurie grabbed their hands and the party in question turned to them, snow collecting on their head like the soft down of a duckling. “Do something for me?”

“What?”

Laurie fell back into the snow, letting go of (Y/n)’s hands as he dropped so that he wouldn’t pull them with him. He fell back with an “oof” that seemed to knock the wind out of him, but he quickly recovered started moving his arms and legs, fanning outwards to create a snow angel.

(Y/n) scoffed and shook their head. “Laurie, you’re going to get all wet.”

“And so will you, when you join me.” Laurie’s smile was convincing, making up for his lack of persuasion skills. (Y/n) was able to resist, if only barely.

They opened their mouth to refuse, but no sound came. Laurie seemed to notice the falter in their resolve because he held out a hand, sitting up carefully as to not ruin his angel.

“The house is right there. We’ll be inside before the cold seeps through the layers of your clothes.” 

“Is this another attempt of yours to get me to fall in love with winter?”

Laurie smiled devilishly, despite what he had created just moments before. “You’ve already fallen in love. My schemes are over.”

Laurie was right - (Y/n) had fallen in love - but whether it was with winter or the boy who pointed out it’s beauty, was hard to tell. Maybe a snow angel would help them decide...

“Fine, for you.”

A moment after the words left their lips, Laurie reached for their hand and tugged them downward, pulling (Y/n) with such a force that they stumbled in their fall and landed half on top of him. (Y/n) shrieked and screwed their eyes tight.

They were awfully close, when dared to peek. Lauries cheeks were flushed scarlet, although whether it was from the cold or their position was hard to determine. (Y/n) shuffled away and lay down in the snow, hesitating before putting their hands out. Laurie lay back down, a little breathless, and the two stared at each other for a moment before laughing, not minding the wet snow beneath them.

(Y/n) eventually pushed their arms out and made their frozen angel, their fingers grazing Laurie’s arm. 

When the two stood up, they both looked at their creations with a critical eye.

“We ruined those pretty well, don’t you think?” 

“You were the one who pulled me down!”

“You didn’t give yourself enough space to make wings.”

(Y/n) and Laurie looked at the other challengingly before breaking out in chuckles.

“Let’s get inside. I wouldn’t want your newfound love of winter spoiled by catching a cold.”

(Y/n) nodded, but it wasn’t until they were sitting in front of a fire, books between them and blankets draped over their shoulders, that (Y/n) told Laurie, in just above a whisper, that it wasn’t winter they had discovered their affections for.

[ddarker-dreams]

Aspiration Part 2. Yan Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

click here for part one! 

“You’ll hurt your neck if you keep craning your head down like that.” 

What good it does to chastise you on an insignificant action like this is beyond you. There isn’t much else to do until you land in this “unknown” destination that he’s spoken of earlier, yet the thought of entertaining conversation with him doesn’t feel appealing either. Being kidnapped will have that effect on you, he shouldn’t expect otherwise but seems to. 

“Nothing a few painkillers won’t solve.” you respond with forced disinterest, flipping to the next page of the magazine Chrollo gave you earlier. It feels like a minor loss to entertain him with a response, your cold shoulder treatment temporarily lifting. 

You’ve read this magazine at least three times by now, hoping that giving your mind something to focus on will steady you in reality. The lackluster stories about summer sales, latest keto recipes, and what celebrities have been up to lately offer none to little substance. Yet your eyes continue scanning them dutifully as if it’s a sacred text recovered by a forgotten civilization.

Letting out a small yawn, you continue to read until you get to the familiar final page once again. Fully intending on completing the cycle of rereading it, Chrollo interrupts this by plucking it from your grasp before you get the chance. All you can offer in return is a halfhearted glare and grimace. 

“Hey! I was reading that.” you protest with a frown, feeling vulnerable without anything to hold onto. 

He ignores your agitated exclamation, placing the magazine out of your reach by his side. “I don’t believe you’re missing out on anything of importance, seeing as you’ve read it multiple times already.” 

Huffing but not humoring him with a response, you cross your arms and stare out the window. The clouds below you are an enticing sight, still not enough to maintain your attention for the remaining thirty or so minutes of this flight. When traveling, it’s always the last amount of time before reaching your destination that feels like the longest.

Chrollo lets out a disapproving sigh at your actions, then pulls back his sleeve to check the time. “It won’t be much longer. I’ll attribute your current behavior to being hungry.”

“Well, yeah, there’s that,” you finally look over at him, lips pursing indignantly. “And there’s the fact that I’ve been kidnapped by an A bounty criminal and am currently heading to god knows where at four in the morning.” 

“You’re by all means welcome to rest.” 

How he can calmly rebuke all your thinly veiled sarcasm is a special talent, like water off a duck’s back. You don’t want to admit it, however, you’re grateful he isn’t hotheaded and offended by your boorish remarks. Watching your tongue would be how any sane person would deal with a threat like this… then there’s you. Making poor decisions and winging it. A life motto, really. 

An invitation to rest your weary eyes isn’t easily declined, an alluring proposal. His presence makes it a challenge to feel comfortable enough to fall asleep, that state leaving you entirely vulnerable. When you’re awake you have some tandem of control, even if it isn’t much. 

“Where exactly would I do that? I don’t see any beds in here.” You emphasize your rebuttal by glancing around the room you two occupy, as if one would materialize at your words. Now that would be a useful nen ability, if he happened to have it. 

Chrollo smiles, in a way that doesn’t sit well with you. “Why not rest on my shoulder?” 

“W-whatever happened to your previous care over the well being of my neck? That’ll just hurt it after five or so minutes.” you stutter back, face flushing as his lips quirk further upwards. Amusement is dancing within his dark eyes, drawing out further discomfort from you. He seems to like exchanges like this, flustering you with the same ease as breathing.

“Painkillers. You said it yourself,” Chrollo throws your previous statement before you, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. “I’d be happy to get them, if that’s the only reservation you have about sleeping on me.” 

Inhaling sharply at his teasing assault, you close your eyes to prevent yourself from doing anything foolish. Gritting your teeth and balling your fists by your side, you remember why you were giving him the cold shoulder earlier. Talking to Chrollo is exasperating, all of his composed words like needles in your skin. Not wanting to swat at the wasp nest any further, your mind starts drifting, in a last ditch effort to distract yourself. 

It’s been an eventful night. The most memorable night of your life, if you’re being honest. You had always acknowledged and accepted the risks of looking into the Phantom Troupe. The stories of their unabashed cruelty served as an appropriate warning. Playing it close to the chest usually entailed fear of death, so never in your wildest dreams were you expecting… whatever this is. 

At least it beats dying? So you’ve got that going for you.

There isn’t anything you can do now, is what you’ve been telling yourself. Playing along with his whims is all you can think to do. It isn’t the ideal situation, but your only option now is to wait for an opening for escape. Even though Chrollo has more strength than you, he is still human. The thought offers a glimmer of encouragement, knowing that people aren’t infallible. You’ll take advantage of any weaknesses you can find. 

Getting more information out of him is a path worth pursuing for the time being. 

“I hope we’re not camping,” you murmur, shuddering at the horrific thought. “Bugs eat me like I’m the last supper.” 

“We won’t be camping. And despite the name, the last supper isn’t actually the last time the disciples ate.” There’s something extremely ironic about a murderer correcting you on this. 

“Please forgive me for not being up to date on biblical theology. I’ll be sure to correct that before the next test,” you deadpan before a realization hits you. “Wait, so what exactly are we doing? How am I even allowed to be on this blimp without my passport? God, none of this makes any sense…” 

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever ask. To answer your questions, we’ll be staying at a hotel for a few weeks. I know some people in the area who are interested in purchasing what was stolen earlier.” Chrollo explains with a casual air, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt. 

It all hits you again. This is really happening to you. An inescapable reality where you’re at the complete mercy of this man, who despite showing no interest in harming you, is fully capable of doing so. Your contempt style of speaking until now has been a pitiful defense mechanism to help you cope with the extremity of this situation, not doing anything aside from momentarily distracting you. Running a hand through your hair, you feel your heart pounding within once more.

Chrollo takes note of how you shift in your seat, and tilts his head. “I understand this has been quite a lot to process. I meant what I said earlier -- about having no intention to harm you -- unless you do something that forces my hand.” 

He smiles, the warm action not matching up to the dark implications of his words. It makes your blood run cold, how a monster can wear the skin of a human. There isn’t any benefit of getting yourself further worked up, so you continue rambling on. Life is all about testing the boundaries of what you can and can’t get away with. 

“I still… don’t really get it. I know I was looking into information about you guys, but in that case, why not just,” you gulp, fearful that saying it will solidify the possibility. “Kill me? Even more so now that I know more.” 

For the first time all night, Chrollo doesn’t offer an immediate quip in response. He carefully considers your words, in a way that leads you to believe he doesn’t entirely know the answer himself. It’s not that you have a death wish, yet your curiosity is overwhelming. Whenever he does decide to grace you with an answer, maybe you’ll find out something that’ll prove useful to escaping in the future.

“There’s no simple reason that’ll satisfy you. You piqued my interest, and that’s a dangerous thing to do with a thief,” he leans over, clearly assessing you as you back away in response. “I confirmed my suspicions when we spoke earlier in the car. So for the time being… I want to observe you.” 

He was right when he said the answer won’t be satisfactory. His response leaves more questions than answers, some of which you don’t want to delve into. Backing down from this befuddling conversation, you focus on something else.

The soothing night sky outside elicits butterflies in your stomach. Darkness allows for the city lights beneath to stand out, little twinkling dots of light growing closer as the blimp descends. You can’t help but feel a sense of relief knowing that you’ll be on the ground soon, a sense of claustrophobia constricting you in this room with no escape. His suffocating presence doesn’t help on that front. 

Chrollo is finally considerate enough to leave you to your thoughts. Within a few more minutes you’ve made your landing, leaving through a private terminal with what has to be forged ID. A black car rental car is waiting for you outside the airport, Chrollo opening the door to the passenger seat for you. The gentleman-like act almost causes you to roll your eyes, but you’re far too exhausted to do anything other than sitting down obediently. You’ll save the cheek for a later time. 

He shuts some luggage into the trunk, then starts the car with a low hum, driving off to where you presume the hotel he mentioned earlier is. Looking out the window, you squint as the sun begins to rise into the sky. Your eyelids grow heavier by the second, in spite of how desperately you cling to consciousness. Eventually, the world around you grows distant, and you’re lulled into a deep slumber.

Dreamless rest is stolen from you, Chrollo gingerly shaking your shoulders and bringing you back to cruel reality. Letting out a low groan at the unwelcome interruption, you feel like swatting his hands away. “What… oh, it’s you.” 

“Good morning to you too,” If he’s bothered by your unenthusiastic greeting, he doesn’t show it. Taking out the keys from the car, the vehicle ceases making noise. “We’re here now. You did mention wanting to sleep on a bed earlier, didn’t you?”

Craning your neck to look out the window, you see only about half an hour has passed since you first fell asleep. Outside is a grandiose looking building that must be your hotel. As much as you hate to admit it, you find yourself staring at what has to be the very expensive venue. Much more than anything you could ever hope to afford. While you’re appreciating the sight before you, Chrollo gets out to get his luggage. 

That’s right. What are you supposed to do for clothes anyways? All of it’s stuck back at your apartment, and you don’t think Chrollo was generous enough to pack for you. At least a hotel will have toiletries, so that won’t be a concern. 

‘Oh well. I guess we’ll cross that bridge once we get to it.’

“Do you need me to carry you?” Chrollo calls over from the curb, two large suitcases in hand. You realize only one of them has a lock on it.

Not even humoring him with a response, you get out of the car, keeping your distance from him. To your understanding, attempting to flee or signal down anyone will earn “unwanted consequences”, or at least that’s how he put it. It’s one thing to endanger yourself in a daring escape, but you can’t justify putting other’s lives on the line. 

Morning chill prompts you to wrap your arms around yourself, warding off the cold. Following Chrollo’s lead, you head through revolving doors into a breathtaking lobby. Warm, yellow light from a glass chandelier basks the room in an ethereal glow, accenting the white marble flooring. He walks up to one of the employees behind a desk, checking in and getting a key to the room. 

In the liberating few minutes away from Chrollo, your eyes sweep the surroundings for any openings. Is it possible to make a run for it for one of the cars outside? He’s fast -- you’ve seen it for yourself -- undoubtedly more than you. Such an obvious attempt at escape will only be met with failure. The lobby is wide open, no possibilities for hiding evident. 

‘There goes that idea.’

Your insistent glancing around the area must’ve given you away, Chrollo placing a warning hand on your shoulder, and giving a firm squeeze. “Let’s head to our room. You must be exhausted by now.” 

Once again offering no signs of protest, you head to an elevator together. Chrollo hits the button with the highest number on it. Ascending upwards, you watch the lights around the rims of the buttons with interest until it reaches level thirty. The elevator adds to your dizziness, a fuzzy feeling budding in your head. 

With a ding, the door opens to reveal a long hallway. Chrollo checks the number on his key once more, before navigating to a room.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he opens the door to your shared suite. The lobby clued you in earlier that this is no cheap hotel, the suite confirming that. Since it’s at the top of the building, the entire city is visible to you. It’s a breathtaking sight, one that keeps you entranced as Chrollo shuts the door behind you. Looking out the window, you see more signs of life as the morning progresses.

The glass opens up to a balcony, the handle locked and cold to the touch. It’s probably not a good idea to walk out without permission, not sure of the act could be interpreted in a negative way. 

Chrollo takes a place by your side, a little too close for your liking. Amidst the beauty before him, he’s more interested in looking at you. “I take it you like the view?” 

“I’ve never been in a place like this,” you tell him, eyes wide and mouth agape at the breathtaking scenery. “If I had known we’d be staying here, I would’ve let you kidnap me sooner.”

“That’s a joke, by the way.” 

He chuckles lowly at your rushed cover up, thinking little of it. “Are you hungry?” 

Now that gets your attention. You can only imagine how wonderful the food here is, and you haven’t had anything to eat since your dinner last night. Having gone so long without food you’re surprised you aren’t ravenous, the kidnapping likely stunting your appetite. Still, you won’t be turning down the offer. 

You nod your head to confirm his words. Chrollo walks over to a phone in the room to place an order for room service, quietly listing off a variety of breakfast foods. While he’s occupied doing this, you look around what will be your residence for the next few weeks. He must not take any issue in your wondering about, seeing as he’s covering the only possible exit. How considerate of him. 

While he’s busy placing an order, you wonder off to take in your surroundings. From the door that leads to the hallway is a small closet on the left, and an expansive kitchen in the middle of the room. To the right of which is a living room, all surrounded by glass windows. That leaves your sleeping arrangement. 

Saving the bedroom for last, your fears are confirmed. You realize that even in such an expansive suite, there’s only a single bedroom, with a king sized bed. Luck doesn’t seem to be on your side. Well, it’s not like you can’t sleep on the floor or couch if the opportunity presents itself. A nagging voice in the back of your mind tells you Chrollo won’t allow for that, unfortunately. 

Plopping yourself down on the right side of the bed, you could almost melt into the comfortable mattress. Tempting as it is to fall asleep, you don’t trust Chrollo enough to give that a shot. Frowning at your fancy evening wear from the previous night, your previous concern about not having any clothes to change into returns. The bathroom did have a fluffy, white robe in it. 

‘That feels too vulnerable... I’ll take my chances with the dress.’

Getting up before you fall asleep, you look around for anything that might be useful. The phone in the living room might be an idea, if you could somehow call and alert the staff of your predicament. Something tells you Chrollo has already taken that into account, and you write off the idea as soon as it appears.

Speaking of Chrollo, he enters the bedroom with an inviting cart of food in front of him. Everything from hashed browns, scrambled eggs, pastries, pancakes, bacon and waffles sit atop silver plates. 

“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got everything. Help yourself.” 

Not needing to be told twice, you grab a plate and go to town. Chrollo grabs a steaming cup of tea, taking a sip and sitting down next to you. The bed creaks underneath his added weight, you too occupied with eating to care about the implications of his action.

He raises the glass to his lips. “Is there anything else you want to ask me, [First]?” 

Swallowing your previous bite, you give his question some thought. There is plenty on your mind that you’d love to know. A better, more conclusive answer for why he kidnapped you at the top of that list. You recall how he looked detached from reality when you asked him about it on the blimp, leading you to believe that asking again will earn a similar result.

‘It’d be best to play it safe for now.’

“Yes, actually,” you take a bite of a blueberry muffin, wiping your mouth before continuing. “Am I supposed to wear this damned dress for the remainder of this... arrangement?” 

"As lovely as you look in it, no. One of the suitcases has clothes for you, among other things.” 

Blinking at this new information, you wonder if he ever intended on telling you this. In your short time of being acquainted with Chrollo, you’ve picked up on how he rewards you for conversation. Humiliating as it is to play along with his tune, you’ll have to do just that. 

“Other things...?” you repeat back in a faint murmur, showcasing your confusion by tilting your head. Chrollo nods his head in affirmation to this, setting his now empty tea cup on a nightstand with a faint click. 

“You strike me as the type to want something to do, so I went through the trouble of procuring a few of your belongings. A few books, and the like.” 

‘Ah. How terribly considerate of him.’ 

It’s not much, but knowing you have some of your personal possessions is comforting. Anything is better than being stuck alone with him, or your thoughts. The worst possible case scenarios. 

Your meal now finished, you get up and place your dirty plates back onto the tray. Chrollo continues relaxing, eyes still following your every moment. How is he not exhausted? The only thing keeping you awake is your fear of what could happen when you’re asleep, and even that is beginning to wane. Maybe some caffeine will help with that. 

“I’m gonna get my stuff.” you call over, holding your breath in anticipation of a response. 

At his lack of protest, you assume this action is approved of. Helping yourself to the suitcase without a lock on it, you unzip it to find it’s just as he said. Some of your clothes from home, your switch, books, a few offline games, your favorite perfume, shampoo and body wash. 

It’s creepy to know someone went into your residence and took your stuff, but that’s the least of your problems right now. While grabbing a change of clothes, a thought hits you. Looking up towards the phone Chrollo used to call room service earlier, your hand twitches by your side. It’s a temptation, taunting you over the possibility of freedom. 

‘He’s in the other room relaxing. Maybe, just maybe I have enough time...’

Cautiously, as not to alert him of your scheme, you begin to silently tiptoe over to the phone. Time feels like it goes slower, not even trusting yourself to breathe in fear of him hearing it. Hand hovering over your possible saving grace, your fingers grow closer to pressing 9. 

That’s when he appears in the corner of your eye, leading you to hurriedly bring back your hand and straighten your back. 

“I already cut the wires. It was a good idea though.” he calls over from the doorway, leaning against it and smiling in a way that makes your stomach curl. Not a single detail has gone overlooked, but what were you expecting from a mastermind criminal who has managed to go this long without being caught? 

Checking to see if his words hold any merit, you find it’s just as he said. Wires cut in a single clean motion, biting your lip as your hopes evaporate in front of you. 

It reminds you of Tantalus. Who was cursed to be hungry and thirsty forever, in the taunting reach of food and water that’d recede whenever he went to partake in it. An eternal punishment you’re now being subjected to. 

‘I should’ve known it wouldn’t have been so easy. Still, how could he have not made a single sound? I didn’t even hear the bed creak.’ 

Laughing nervously at being caught, you step back as to avoid further consequence, cheeks flushing at being caught in your measly attempt. “Just... checking to make sure all is in order, aha...” 

Walking away from it, you look to change the subject. Chrollo doesn’t seem bothered by your defiant actions, having clearly already anticipated your idea. He rolls out the cart from before, leading you to stiffen when he walks past you. Heart pounding away in your chest, you silently observe him opening the door to place it outside. 

He looks back at your anxious form after shutting the door. “I’d rather not have to constantly monitor you. Whether or not I do will be determined by how you act.” 

There’s a thick pressure in the room from his words, one that pushes down on you like a heavy weight. Unable to maintain eye contact with him any longer, you look to the side, clutching your clothes to your person. Chrollo doesn’t have to resort to infuriated threats or physical violence, his presence commanding enough on its own.

To ease the tension in the air, Chrollo speaks up. “If I happened to leave out anything you need, let me know.” 

Grateful for the change in subject, you nod your head in a daze. From now on you’ll have to be more discreet. Mentally slapping yourself for not giving your earlier actions more consideration, you move on at Chrollo’s lack of reprimanding. 

“Is it alright if I get changed?” you speak up, voice meek enough to remind you of a mouse. Chrollo considers you before nodding his head. You jump at the opportunity to be alone, borderline running to the master bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Looking in the mirror, you see your frowning reflection staring back. Placing a hand to your face, you inspect the bags forming underneath your eyes. Peeling off the dress feels heavenly, using a wet rag on the sink to quickly clean your body. Showering with a murderer in the other room isn’t a tempting proposition.

Putting on your clothes, you feel like a new person. Straightening up your hair and splashing your face with cold water, you place your hands onto the cool marble counter top. 

‘I’m going to get out of this. It’ll be okay, [First]. Stay calm.’

Finishing your mini pep talk, you fold your previous outfit and place it on the floor. Will Chrollo even allow someone into your room to clean it? Not that it matters, seeing as you spotted a washer and dryer earlier. 

He’s sitting up in bed when you open the door, a book now in hand. At your presence, he looks up to acknowledge you. Chrollo’s dark hair frames his face, and you flush at his admittedly handsome appearance. How are you supposed to remain composed in his company? 

“I can close the blinds if you intend to sleep.” he offers before turning to the next page of his book. 

Oh, that’s right. Now that you’re wearing pajamas he must assume you want to sleep. The next hurdle of this headache inducing dilemma, Chrollo having the expectation of you resting next to him. Eyelids feeling heavier by the second, you wonder how much coffee would be necessary to keep you awake.

That’d still be delaying the inevitable. Coffee or not you won’t be able to stay conscious forever. Earlier, when you fell asleep in the car, he didn’t do anything weird... right? Nothing that you can account for. 

He looks up at you, noting your lack of response. Unfreezing from your prior stiff position, you make the decision to sit down next to the bed. Chrollo most likely wants you where he can see you after your previous stunt, and sleeping on the floor isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Aside from the back pains. 

Making yourself comfortable, you fully intend to fall asleep on the floor. Chrollo closes his book at your antics, coming over to your side of the bed and frowning. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to sleep.” 

“... On the floor?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” 

Unreadable grey eyes pierce through your being, sending chills down your spine. From your previous interactions with him, you thought a measly sign of resistance such as this one wouldn’t matter. Your initial assessment must be incorrect, as he sends you a disapproving look.

“There’s no reed for that.” he reasons with you, leaving little room for argument. Not wanting to give in, you remain planted in your spot. Without wasting anymore time, he gets up and crouches next to you. You wonder if he’s going to chastise you further for your childish actions. 

He instead lifts you up in a single, fluid motion. A small noise of shock leaves your lips at the sensation of being hoisted up, scrambling to clutch onto him in fear of falling. It doesn’t last long, as he places you down onto the bed with gentleness that you didn’t expect him to have.

Arms receding back to his side, Chrollo returns to his previous position as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. You feel your face burning, a bright red glow coupled with it. The scent of his cologne lingers, memory of his touch flustering you further. 

Clearing your throat to play off the events, you still can’t manage to look at him. “I was planning on sleeping here, actually. Was just testing the floor out.” 

He opens his book back up to its previous page, lips quirking into an amused smile. “I’m sure you were.” 

Having no other options, you lay on your side facing the wall. Muscles taut and incapable of relaxing in his presence, you squeeze your eyes shut to no avail. All you hear is the gentle hum of the air conditioner on the wall, and the occasional page flip from him. 

More time passes, at a snails pace. An hour ago you would’ve entered slumber easily, now it taunts and eludes you. Huffing at your inability to rest, you adjust yourself against the soft mattress. 

Sighing quietly in defeat, you attempt to make conversation to pass the time. “Do you not ever need to sleep?” 

“I’ll be fine for a while longer. Are you concerned for my well being?” You can imagine the smug visage on his face, clear as day. It’s tempting to want to bite back with no, you’re not very worried about his health. You bite your tongue and instead ignore the teasing.

Sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest, you look over at him. His guard is still on high alert even while he’s reading. There’s an immeasurably gap in strength between you two, accented by his casual demeanor. 

“That makes two of us. I don’t feel tired now,” you narrow your eyes in his direction, wanting desperately to know what it is he’s thinking. “Something tells me we’re not going to be sitting here all day.” 

“For a majority of it. I’ll consider taking you out for dinner if you continue acting agreeable.” 

Tempting you with food, huh? It’s a most valiant effort, one that almost threatens to win you over. Especially since cities always have a variety of nice restaurants to choose from. Giving his proposition some thought, you realize there might be a catch. There always is with these kinds of ordeals. 

“What is your definition of... agreeable?” 

Disliking the way the word feels on your tongue, you purse your lips. Dehumanizing is how you’d describe it, knowing that your actions are being analyzed and studied. If Chrollo notices the bitterness in your voice, he doesn’t feel a need to mention it.

“I don’t care much for labels, but I’d equate it to wanting to date you. I told you earlier that I had taken an interest in you, that’s what I meant.” Chrollo explains to you with ease that tells you how much thought he’s given it.

When he had told you he was interested in you earlier, you thought he meant it in an entirely different way. Like how you find a certain movie interesting or entertaining. Now you’re unsure what to think. Mind swarming with thoughts ranging from maybe it’s a good thing, to what do you do now? 

Finally, you deliver your eloquent and delicately woven response, having put every level of care into it. 

“Oh.” 

Glancing over at your dumbfounded expression, he can’t help but laugh airily at your mortified look. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

[ryder616]

You know what really gets me about Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. S5? How unsatisfying most of the characters' arcs are, especially in the context of a final season, which is what S5 had been written to be.

Coulson's arc is just downright depressing from start to finish. He's resigned to his fate and never tries to fight it. Watching the equivalent of a terminally ill person marching inexorably toward an inescapable death isn't my idea of entertainment. Sorry.

Daisy's is...weird. Her agency is repeatedly taken away by multiple friends and foes over the course of the season and she never really takes it back nor is she afforded any kind of closure with her offenders.

it's pretty boss how she breaks out of Kasius Sr.'s mind prison like it's just another Tuesday, but he's a minor villain with 5 minutes of screen time. Who cares?

Passing leadership to Mack, shouldering all responsibility for the team's fracturing is actually a great leadership move (ignoring the unfairness and all the other issues, not the point here), but is this really how you want to end your heroine's journey?

the choice to sacrifice Coulson should have been pivotal and super meaningful, but it doesn't feel like it because, by the time she makes it, it's do or die and Coulson half-made it for her already. The nebulous nature of what exactly breaks the loop doesn't help either.

all the conflicts with the other characters are left unresolved or are only sort of resolved (if you squint) and entirely off-screen with throwaway lines (Elena). Daisy is the character who, more than anyone, embodies the Found Family theme of the show. In the potential final season they broke half of her relationships, never fixed them and yet there are no consequences. At the end of 5x22, Daisy's still with everyone in the final "family" portrait, still with SHIELD, and heading to space to fetch Cryo!Fitz. All is well. How? When? Why?

Fitz's character is reset to the end credits of 5x05.

"Ah, but the other characters lived through it and will remember it!" Yes, well, they didn't. And, if it had been the final season as it was supposed to be, would it have mattered what the other characters would or wouldn't have remembered? They weren't going to be on screen again.

In addition, the impact of his death - possibly the most emotionally manipulative death that I have ever seen - is completely undermined:

he doesn't know that he's effectively trading his life for Mack's (and Polly's). He knows Mack is in potentially mortal danger and he's taking a personal risk to save him, but that is a done-twice-everyday-before-breakfast situation for a SHIELD agent. Wouldn't a deliberate sacrifice be more poignant, especially after everything? (also, maybe the character he sacrificed for should have been Daisy, or, alternatively, Coulson. This is fiction, not real life, after all).

It's immediately brushed away. Oh, he's dead, cry hard now but no worries! There's a spare, and without the burden of seventeen episodes worth of choices. But, he didn't miss much, did he? Unbelievable.

I don't know if May and Simmons even have what could be called an arc, tbh, but I don't think either ended up in narratively rewarding places: May gets (another!) death watch for all her troubles and Simmons is all about Fitz, again. Perpetually separated and perpetually offered a second chance. At least it's consistent, I guess.

The exceptions, to me, are Mack and Elena.

Elena suffers one whammy after another (and delivers a couple) but her story is actually compelling and very central to the proceedings. This was her first season as one of the leads, so she didn't have as much to wrap up and bring full circle as the others. She has closure with Coulson. And almost all of it carried over to the extra seasons, so bonus points there.

Mack's arc is honestly the only one that feels appropriate for a potential final season, at least as my preferences in such matters go. The guy who wanted to quit ends up in charge. That's cool.

Of course, I can't fully shake the feeling that they made him Director because they had decided Coulson would die and Daisy wouldn't be but somebody had to be in charge and they didn't know what else to do with his character. Still, it was a good place to leave him, then. It's S7 that did him wrong in my opinion, with the Fury cosplay and without giving him a truly new horizon, like it gave Daisy and FS.

[liss-99]

Polin - Dress 💛💛💛

oooooooooooo a spicy one and my fav rep song I love it ;) this one’s kind of long so it’s below the line!

It was long-sleeved and fell to the top of her thighs. The neckline was a deep v, one that highlighted her breasts in the most sensual way. The skirt wrapped and grabbed tightly at the waist, and the whole thing was adorned in thousands of little crystals. The black fabric was as dark as night, but with the shimmer of the crystals, she appeared like a femme fatale. She’d purchased the dress one week prior at Chanel; it’d cost her a month’s salary. But it was worth it because tonight, he was going to rip the dress off her. Well, she hoped he wouldn’t rip it exactly, she wanted to keep the dress, but she knew he would want to get her out of it as fast as he could. Penelope twisted her fiery hair into a low chignon and swiped a deep crimson paint onto her lips before leaving for the party. 

The Bridgerton family was hosting a celebratory soiree to mark Violet Bridgerton’s birthday. Bridgerton House was filled with hundreds of guests to celebrate the matriarch, but all Penelope could focus on was him. 

Colin and Penelope had been sneaking around for a couple of weeks now. When they first kissed three weeks ago, after a decade of friendship, they both agreed to take things slow. They didn’t need his family or hers questioning them or butting in on their adapting relationship. 

So, they shared secret moments in crowded rooms, their families having no idea about them. Penelope liked the secret of it; it was a thrill, a rush, an affair, it was as if they were teenagers forbidden from seeing one another. They stole kisses in cramped corners or blocks away from either’s flat. She knew eventually their family would know about them, but for the moment, she reveled in having him and their relationship completely to herself. 

It had only been three and a half weeks, but already, there was an indentation in the shape of Colin; he made his mark on her like a golden tattoo. He was a permanent fixture in her life now, Penelope would never be able to forget the feeling of his body on hers. 

They feigned cordial ‘hellos’ as if he had not texted her just an hour before all of the things he could not wait to do to her that night. They both suffered through all of the silence and patience, the pining in anticipation and desperately waiting. They could not risk being too close to each other in such a public space, they would not be able to resist one another. Penelope’s hands were shaking from holding back from him. She wanted to caress his cheek, rub his back, place her hand on his thigh, feel his desire for her grow. 

The night seemed to drag on forever,  but as soon as it was respectable enough to leave, Colin gave a short nod towards her. She jumped in the car that was waiting to take her home, and not more than five minutes after she arrived, she heard his knock. 

She opened the door, and his tall, handsome frame took up the whole thing. 

“Pen,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling. 

He said her name and it was as if everything else just stopped. 

Only a beat later he moved inside and shut her door, before grabbing her and pulling her to him. Their lips wrestled with each other like it was a fight to the death. Penelope couldn’t help but think that she didn’t want Colin like a best friend. 

He stopped a moment to drink her in. She was an absolute vision, one he wanted to ravish and worship for the rest of his days. 

“Penelope, you’re so goddamn sexy,” he huffed, divesting himself of his suit. “This dress is incredible.”

Devilishly, she looked up at him, put her hand directly on the back of his head, and forced her to look right at him. 

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” she whispered. And take it off he did. 

Colin practically growled as he lifted her up and carried her into her bedroom. placing her at the edge of the bed. Slowly, he turned her around so her back was to his chest and he pulled the zipper. From the nape of her neck down to her lower back, with every centimeter of skin he revealed, he placed a soft kiss on her flesh, until finally, the glimmering piece of fabric fell from Penelope’s hips. 

That night, as they made love, it was as if he was carving his name into her bedpost, surmounting himself against any other man who ever dare try to do to her the things he was was doing right then. He didn’t want her like a best friend. 

Later, after they had thoroughly explored each other five times over, they were taking a bath. It was inescapable, their pull toward one another, and neither of them was going to nor wanted to try to escape it. If they got burned, at least they were electrified. Things, they could come crashing down, but it would have been as a result of the most electrifying thing either of them had ever known. 

Penelope was laughing, spilling wine in the bathtub, Colin kissed her face and they were both drunk. Drunk off the pinot and drunk off of each other. Penelope looked at him lovingly and said, “everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing...” before capturing his mouth with hers once again. 

All of the silence and patience, the pining in anticipation and desperately waiting, the shaking hands from holding back....it was always worth it. 

She often flashbacked to when they met; his hair buzzed and hers bleached. Even in her worst of times, when she was bitter and angry, he could see the best of her. She flashbacked to her mistakes, her rebounds, her earthquakes, in the worst of her lies, he saw the truth of her. 

She woke before him in the morning. They had barely slept, for they’d been too consumed with each other to slumber. Penelope was so thankful she had woken up just in time to realize her feelings for him. Now she would forever get to wake up by his side. He was her one and only, her lifeline. 

He had been her best friend, one she was grateful for. But now, she didn’t want him like a best friend. She looked over to her dress that was strewn on the floor, knowing he would be taking it off her many, many more times. 

Taylor Swift Bridgerton One-Shots