#it touches upon things in such juvenile way

[kasumingo]

hazbin hotel gives me so much secondhand embarrassment

[theglassesgirl]

The Ithaca Saga: What IS a Monster, how it’s presented, and when fictional S.A is integral to the plot.

So -

This was originally a response to @ / anniflamma which you can still find on my page unedited. But with the new discourse surrounding the suitors, I figured I could retool it as a standalone essay to express a topic I’ve been trying to pin down for a while now; What exactly does the mean when they call a character a monster? What do they do, do the reasons matter, and how does the subject of rape affect how the fandom consider some monsters more unforgivable than others? When IS rape in fiction “necessary” and why such questions defeat the purpose of exploratory creative works.

In this post we will discuss all the major antagonists of the Epic Musical, Penelope’s agency, the label of Monster and the types of moralizing one might do when faced with uncomfortable subjects in fiction and how to prevent these feelings from blinding is about what a story is trying to say.

For those who read my original response; there’s new content to read here and posts that will be referred to, if you’d like to give it another gander!

Thank you,

Let’s begin;

I think making the threat of rape explicit was very much needed, actually.

It’s come to my attention that there are people here and on tiktok who are so uncomfortable with the subject matter in this CENTURIES old tale that they’re both refusing to accept that it plays an important part in the original poem and musical, AND are bizarrely insisting that Jorge should have magically done away with it to make more palatable.

This is beyond juvenile - it’s a clear sign of media illiteracy.

What, if I may ask, do you think it means when you say that the suitors are going to force Penelope to choose one of them to marry.

You may respond that they want to take over Ithaca. That they want to be king. But take a moment to consider what forcing a woman to marry one of them will entail. I wonder if you think that one can divorce the idea of sexual violence in this plot.

It would be…unfathomably difficult to do so. Because you CANT. There is an implicit threat of Penelope’s will breaking and having to have unwilling and reluctant sex with any one of them in the event she just gave up and picked one.

This isn’t a storyline that depicts Penelope of being willing to marry any of the suitors. She is WAITING for her husband’s return. Even if he doesn’t, she doesn’t WANT to marry someone else. Her consent is being violated by the very merit of them being in her palace, eating her food, and threatening her son.

They’re doing ALL OF THIS in order to bend her will in the HOPES of raping her as a bonus to becoming king of Ithaca.

My contention is the use of “unnecessary” when it comes to this trope in media - though themes of rape can be uncomfortable, to call them unnecessary HAVE to meet certain criteria. Which this specific instance doesn’t.

By observing various responses, it’s clear that the threat of rape went completely over many’s head in this instance of the story. So I very must appreciate Jorge making it SO clear that it’s upsetting.

This part of the odyssey, and the musical, is very much about Penelope suffering under the threat of assault for YEARS. In the same way Odysseus was (a thing I touched upon in my calypso essay, in terms of his ambiguous situation in the musical) - it’s a parallel that works as both Antinous and Calypso were introduced (regardless on your personal interpretation of what Calypso did or did not do, but that’s neither here nor there).

It has taken an emotional and psychological toll of either spouse. And the kicker is that neither of them are freed of this situation on their own - they are both rescued by outside forces. Athena/Hermes helps free Odysseus; Athena/Odysseus will help free Penelope.

The looming threat of rape is SO necessary that it helps the catharsis factor we feel toward PENELOPE’s story - it’s nothing to do w Odysseus who by now is a force of nature as big as Poseidon, his actions happen TO her, and it’s up to her to decide (per “would you love me” ) what she feels about that. She can very well reject him! She’s suffered under male violence for YEARS. Odysseus’s violence and those of the suitors toward her are basis enough for the comparison.

Do all men, including her husband, become violent? Does she want to put up with that? We know from her song snippets that she is NOT a woman that simply succumbs to the Rape Rescue trope as suggested by ignorant consumers of media - and I call it ignorance and consumerism because there’s a clear lack of engaging with the material in an intuitive way. It’s just blind consumption - as if one bites into a burger and find a pickle, which you personally don’t like, and having it removed - you can’t treat ART that way .

Penelope is a very intuitive and emotionally intelligent queen. Stop infantilizing her. Her own husband suggests that like the suitors, his actions make him just as bad as they are and presents his hope as being understanding if she rejects him on those grounds. But those ARENT her grounds. She has full autonomy and can make a distinction FOR HERSELF whether she considers her husband equal to the monsters who have harmed her.

So let’s talk about the “Monster” label as it is presented on the entire musical.

Some have erroneously suggested that Odysseus has been given an out to commit cruel and ruthless deeds with out “good justification” - he does it for his family,, after all!

Which is a misunderstanding of everything every antagonist of each saga has done.

Let’s start with the Troy Saga: Odysseus has killed a BABY. He made the choice to put his family over this child. Everything he has done and lost would be for literally NOTHING if he hadn’t, as even if he had killed the suitors and regained everything - the GODS themselves would make sure that child would come to an aged Odysseus and slaughter him, Penelope, Telemachus and his entire kingdom when he came of age.

Odysseus STARTS as a monster. We have been rooting for the man who laid Troy and its children asunder. As such, the label of a monster is NOT so much a morally subjective label - it simply a thing that IS. Or rather. It is what ALL the antagonists ARE, but it’s hardly a condemnation of any of them.

(Peep that one of the first lines Ody says refers back to in the Vengeance Saga is what he did to Troy - he STILL views his actions over there as unforgivable, so not even HE will ever see himself otherwise, the problem was that he felt so guilty over it that he became a detriment (a different kind of monster) to his friends and family when they were all guilty of the same thing and trying to get home.)

ALL of the antagonists have a “good reason” to kill ALL the soldiers (who again, have looted and slaughtered the Trojans) Odysseus and his close friends included. Whether your AGREE is almost irrelevant…because the story itself proposes that it’s irrelevant.

The next saga introduces the cyclops: his motivation is primarily that his FRIENDS the sheep have been slaughtered. You can argue in the scope of things, you can’t empathize with this but it’s his good reason. He’s the son of a god, and these sheep are all he has. His friends, who matter to him as much as Polites does to Ody, are being taken and slain, he is being drugged, attacked and maimed. VERY much was Ody goes through in the final saga. And even so.

The Cyclops is antagonistic to the party, he’s a monster who feels justified killing to avenge his killed sheep. A monster is a thing he IS.

As Poseidon’s son, he asks his father to kill the 600 men who have ransacked his home and beat on him. He doesn’t view his father as being wrong for this. In the same ways Ody and Telemachus don’t waste any time addressing the slain suitors later on. Poseidon is a monster of a god - it’s just a thing he is. Not even being stabbed 100 times is enough to repay the harm he’s done - to most everyone, not just Ody, but we are not asked to quantify that. Just live with it.

Circe has killed NUMEROUS men over the years. HER “good reason” is that something bad happened to her nymphs when she let a stranger in her islands. She doesn’t even promise that she WONT kill in the future - her song ends w the suggestion that the world may continue to need her to puppeteer! Because she does not exist to be “redeemed” - she is somewhat more reasonable and capable of empathy than even the likes Athena, who being a greater and more powerful god, does not have the one on one affection to her follows as Circe does. She’s a monster! It’s a label, a thing she IS.

So here we begin to ask; is it LOVE that gives people the capacity to do monstrous things? Because the cyclops loved his sheep friends, Poseidon loves his son, Circe loves her nymphs.

And by now you’re saying now wait a minute didn’t the Underworld Saga go over this? Why yes it did! And Odysseus decides to “become the monster” - he already IS one by the standards of the cyclops, Poseidon, Troy - they all see him as a monstrous being. But he accepts that, after being one in Troy, he held back and ruined the lives of his men, making him a monster to THEM. His “good reason” for being so!

He attempts very hard to be the General he was in Troy and prioritize them going home, sparing no sympathy towards his enemies - but in the Thunder Saga we see the gods further push him to be completely self-serving like they are. The sun gods cows are harmed, he sends Zeus in relation - his “good reason” being his friend were personally harmed.

Odysseus’s “good reason” is ultimately decided to be the same good reason he had to slaughter the Trojans - to get back home to his wife and son.

Like with the Cyclops sheep, Circe’s nymphs, The Sun gods cows, and Poseidons son, WE are shocked and made to feel some type of way about Odyseuss’s reasoning. Surely HIS personal suffering shouldn’t cost the lives of “innocent” men…but it does! It surely does.

He is a monster. It’s just a thing he IS.

Now, Odysseus spends the next seven years under the thumb of ANOTHER monster. And through calypso own reasoning, despite her tragic backstory, her “good reason” she IS a monster. She’s incapable of understanding why she wasn’t reciprocated. Incapable of empathizing with a human because as a god who has spent eternity alone, it stands to reason she, like all the other monsters mentioned before, prioritizes HER personal suffering over everyone else’s. In some versions she either kills herself or does spend the rest of eternity alone. She’s a monster. This is a thing she IS.

Now what the HELL does all this have to do with the suitors?

Odysseus started the musical a MONSTER. He’s worn different hats, but it is what he IS. It’s a label, not a moral critique.

ALL of the antagonists of every saga have a “good reason” NONE of them are ruthless for ruthlessness sake! It’s immaterial whether you agree with them or not, but to understand them for what they are.

Odysseus is the antagonist of the ithica saga, md while the suitors are the antagonist to him and his family, we see their fate form THEIR POV

The suitors could not have been depicted as “rude youthful men” like Telemachus. That Odysseus killing them should be shocking - a frightening condemnation of everything he’s done and became. But I ask once again - in what world are the suitors not implicitly set up as monsters?

Because again. They aren’t being rude for rudeness’s sake! They aren’t JUST eating Penelope’s food and sleeping in HER house. Them threatening Telemachus, as you propose, isn’t “enough” of a reason because they didn’t wake up one day beefing w this boy. Everything they do is for the express purpose of sexual violence towards the Queen of Ithaca, who upon assaulting, will make it so any one of them will be King.

You can’t separate the one from the other. You get a nonsense scenario. The whole REASON they’re there in the first place.

Even if you create a fanfic where 108 men wake up one day and raid the palace to slaughter the royal family with no intent of sexually assaulting either (because remember Telemachus is also the subject of Hold Em Down) and then fight amongst themselves to be the next king, but then isn’t that STILL a “good reason” for Odysseus to slaughter them?

Now I hear what you may be asking: but if all the monsters of the sagas, Odysseus included, have a “good reason” even though we might not agree with it, what kind of monsters does that make the suitors? Surely and clearly THEY aren’t doing what they’re doing for noble reasons.

I consider them akin to the 600 men who died under their captains command.

Because, as stated before. Odysseus views his actions in a Troy as his start of monstrosity. He did all that to finish the war and do back home. He ruined the lives of all Trojans.

So did his soldiers.

The only moment in time (even in the deleted songs) that the bulk of them repent about the war is in terms that it left them without food.

But glasses! They were just following orders!

Which is what one of the suitors suggest in song 38. Their serpents head is dead, THEY were just going with Antinous’ flow, they are innocent.

Like the 600 soldiers, the 108 suitors sacked a home that wasn’t theirs and harmed a wife and child - does them being the queen and prince pale in comparison to the hundreds of wives and children slain in Troy? Homer is a genius to ask us to see these parallels for what it is.

The suitors ARE monsters. That is simply what all 108 of them are. In the context of the story itself, their intent is to break Penelope’s will, commit martial rape, and become king of Ithaca. They aren’t there for kicks, they aren’t ignorant boys, they’re socially accepted adults abusing the hospitality rule with an express purpose.

So a GROUP of monsters are slaughtered by ANOTHER monster, and though in this instance we can argue it’s morally justifiable, it doesn’t take away from Odysseus’s fear of being rejected by his family. He has ruined the lives of the Trojans, his men, AND multiple gods! To get to this point. He IS a monster. And the story asks US, through Penelope, if he is still worth loving.

Seeing Penelope as merely his reward is so backwards and bizarre. It’s very clear that bad faith interpretations of her are based on objectifying her erroneously, when the narrative presents her as a fully developed character.

In the story both in the poem and the musical that the suitors ARE NOT her guests. She is being sequestered against her will.

In what world could the suitors be “just” murderers and not….very clearly rapists? It’s BUILT into their motivation. You would have to change the very FOUNDATION of the Ithaca plot line and Penelope herself??? To say nothing of Telemachus’s role!

What’s the proposal here? That Penelope invited these suitors? That’s she’s actively looking for a replacement husband? Okay, again, that changes literally SO MUCH of the story, but wouldn’t that put Telemachus in a position where he too has to change? Does he resent his mother for doing this? Is he helping his dad out of spite or because he wants him back? How are we meant to view Penelope in this radically new and hip Epic the Musical? Is she savvy and in her right to choose a new boo? Okay…okay, so then….you want Odysseus to be the only one unchanged and go axe crazy because….hes jealous? He kills these upstanding men….curtain call. That’s all folks!

Absurdity at its finest. You throw Penelope’s agency out the window. Her weaving and unweaving her loom is meaningless or simply doesn’t happen. Or maybe it’s that she wakes up one day and goes hey yknow what I WILL consider marrying one of these guys with no sense of dread and fear. Oh wait Oddy has killed then all! Never mind me feeling unsafe a week ago, he’s done a Bad.

Crazy.

It’s just…not going to end up making Penelope look like a well written female character if Jorge has done what you wanted! THAT would make her a mindless prop. You seem to think she is one, and that’s not the case. Historically, in fact!

She is a whole person in the poem and musical whether you understand it or not. You would have to argue so thoroughly why she sucks and let me assure you - there are entire DISSERTATIONs on why you’d be incorrect.

So, no.

No, you CANT take away the rape in Penelope’s storyline. It matters ALOT. It’s the ROOT of the matter! Could old school vegetales make something up that’s more to your sensibilities? Maybe at its peak but god, I couldn’t possibly come up with a draft that could reflect that. I won’t even try.

The rape aspect of the Ithica Saga isn’t unnecessary - it’s INTEGRAL to the plot. It can make you uncomfortable, but it’s BUILT into the royal family’s suffering whether it’s explicit or not! And it SHOULD be explicit! Because you seem to think because it usually isn’t, that the rape aspect isn’t there!

I cannot imagine coming to this kind of conclusion.

They are not random men going on a siege of the palace one day - you cannot “sanitize” the SUITORS because by the very merit of them calling each other THE SUITORS there is an implicit threat of sexual violence. Because Penelope doesn’t WANT suitors. She rejects them. They’re already violating her consent.

How the FUCK to do you censor the rape when it’s in every action they take? And I know what you’re saying: but didn’t Jorge censor the rape aspect that both Circe and Calypso commit towards him?

Further reading: suggests that ALLUDING to it is not the same as censoring, that it still FITS the PURPOSE of these characters in regards to Odysseus’s suffering under them. That after ambiguity, it is NECESSARY to make the rape aspect CLEAR in order to create both catharsis and MEANING at the end of the narrative. The THEME is still respected and present, it is not REMOVED. Please consider reading the linked follow up that answers this question.

In short.

It’s truly a matter of using one’s goddamn head when it comes to view fictional depictions of rape as “necessary” - because though some depictions can be presented BADLY, to suggest they should not EXISTS lends itself to rape culture. It silences the voices of victims. Its representation denied. Don’t talk about it, don’t even suggest it, because rape is bad.

It’s an action that happens to people. It’s a crime in civilized society. It’s a physical and psychological trauma that has always been. It happens daily, in fact. Though epic the musical is a source of entertainment for you, it doesnt exist solely for that purpose.

When Homer included it within his original oral story, he did so as a storyteller trying to get his audience to philosophize, not simply have fun.

I think we’ve come to some abysmal conclusion that men can’t write about these topics when we have historical evidence of at least one man knowing what the hell he’s talking about. And Jorge has done a phenomenal job even when he hadn’t depicted blatantly.

If you’re uncomfortable to the point of not wanting to see it at all, that is entirely on you, art and creative works allow us to explore these topics safely. Whether it’s from the POV of the assailant or one of the victims commenting on it, fiction is one of the only places we can talk about it and learn about ourselves in a way it doesn’t harm real people.

I don’t even want to BEGIN discussing all the losers who are still harassing Antinous fans or people who genuinely enjoy his song despite/BECAUSE of the subject matter. Its purpose in the story matters more than you policing how it’s presented and how it’s consumed. No amount of people enjoying themselves will take away the foundational POINT of the character and song. It’s perfect the way it is.

Like with the chaos that calypso discourse wrought, you cannot control how people treat a NOT REAL CHARACTER or the songs they sing - if it bothers you that one type of fictional villian is treated one way or another, it is on you to find likeminded people instead of going into others faces and pretending to be a self-righteous prick. You can throw whatever buzzwords you want, the CONTEXT these characters live in has nothing to do with how others want to play with them. If you don’t understand the difference between the two instances, fandom is certainly not for you and will not be changed to suit your sensibilities.

To end this post, I want to thank those who further asked me questions and bounced ideas off with me, and wow, what a phenomenal ending to a grandiose musical. I hope I can see it live, animated, streamed, developed into a game etc whatever form it takes now that the concept albums are published

Thank you all for engaging w my work💖

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Castiel pining after a hunter—his creator betrayed him, so he found a new one.

"Hello mortal, it's me, Castiel."

Yandere Castiel met you after he betrayed heaven for the Winchesters. Cut off from his angelic powers, it was merely a matter of time before his grace dwindled away to humanness. He would be lying to himself if he said he did not fear. More than fear, there was this other fickle notion. This emotion gnawed inside his vessel's muscular organ situated in the mediastinum.

He truly thought God cared for his creations, but he had been brought back by this all-knowing entity, and for what?

He has no purpose except for aiding the Winchesters, which has only 'bitten him in the ass', as Dean says.

He's vulnerable... and that's when he stumbled upon you.

Yandere Castiel appeared out of thin air; well, that's how it appeared to you, seeing as how you are a mortal and are unable to see into other spiritual planes. He took down the monstrosities you had been hunting with relative ease. It left his angelic form wheezing as more of his grace was depleted. He should have simply left you, but something in him compelled him not to.

He introduced himself and naturally you were taken aback. He didn't elaborate any further when bombarded with questions. He offered to heal you.

Yandere Castiel followed you everywhere after that, like a lost hellhound looking for its owner. There was always an angel on your shoulder, more accurately, peering over your shoulder.

He even neglects prayers from the Winchesters and their allies to spend time with you. They did not appreciate him as much as you did. After all, he was only blasphemed and devalued around them. You thanked him, allowed him into your sleeping quarters, and shared private information with him that very few knew.

He already knew these things due to his, well, just being ethereal, but something in him said that he should keep that to himself.

When he could spare the grace, he would stay in his angel form so he could watch you uninterrupted. Apparently humans did not appreciate being looked upon so closely, despite the fact celestial beings are always looking upon humanity. It's another one of those human quirks he does not understand.

You were and still are a fascinating creature. He can't help but get attached.

Yandere Castiel is unsatisfied by the work your guardian angel has been doing. He is hardly able to call it protection, seeing as how Castiel always has to be the one to step in and take care of you. So he tears the wings off of that pitiful excuse and takes the grace from them.

He's keeping the both of you safe. It was only a matter of time before the angel reported his whereabouts to heaven and sent someone far more powerful to eliminate him. Then who would keep you safe? It certainly wouldn't have been the 'angel' heaven assigned to you.

When he appears to you with a stronger grace presence and blood coating him, you are naturally cautious. When you question him, he simply rebuffs and states that he was 'taking care of things'. He doesn't want you to worry, so he presses his lips to yours and makes you forget this little interaction.

It's addicting.

Is this what that abomination Sam Winchester felt when intaking demonic substance?

He still doesn't condone the vessel's actions, but he has a better understanding now.

Yandere Castiel abuses his divinity. Even with limited grace, he obtains it in other ways now. The more human part of him knows this is wrong, but the angel part of him says that this is righteous. It is, isn't it? He's serving humanity through one human. His human.

He isn't shy about those fleeting touches of his. He is often tempted to let you harm yourself in incrimental ways so he is able to step in and 'kiss your boo-boos'. It is another human phrase he has grown fond of, even despite its juvenile connotations. It isn't required that he has direct contact to heal your wounds, but you do not need to be made aware of that.

Unfortunately, he cannot prevent certain incidents from occurring. So he wipes your memory. All those negative emotions you felt towards him cease to exist. He is your sinless guardian, your angel, your soul mate.

He allows you to get high on his grace. All of your problems fade away, and there is only him.

In those moments, you see him how he sees you, as the only being in creation worth attention. 

Yandere Castiel thought it could not get any worse than ridding you of stray entities. Wherever God is, they must be either punishing him for his disobedience or testing his loyalty to his human. A cherub of all lower ethereal entities is trying to mark you with an enochian love sigil. Heaven is trying to force you to have an 'other half'.

His patience runs thinner than God's love.

He tried to use his words, but the cherub was just so persistent. He snapped all of the arrows first, then he grabbed his angel blade and plunged it into the love being's skull. That was after he tortured the information about this false soul mate those fuckers on high wanted to force upon you.

Your bloodline needed to be preserved because your line was fated to do something greater. He knows better than to trust the words of those in heaven. If your bloodline needs to continue, Castiel can always help you copulate.

So your 'soul mate' ends up dead. He binds your heart to his vessel's without your knowledge.

This is how it was always supposed to be.

Yandere Castiel has you with him now. You are undeniably attracted to him, which makes it so easy to persuade you. He is able to create distance between you and the hunter life. It's almost perfect, except for his apparent duty to the Winchesters.

He is confronted after neglecting them for nearly a year. He brushes it off like he has before, but they persist. He cannot allow you to be near them! They are the center of the world's supernatural troubles. His hand is eventually forced.

So he's fiercely protective, always a wing around you. Neither better get the faintest idea of wanting you. You're his.

[marchsfreakshow]

Bewitching [Jimmy Darling]

Fluff? // Hurt/comfort

Opening for Elsa was always a disheartening task. But with Jimmy by your side, how could you keep that frown on your face?

I'm literally amazing everyone thank ICP for creating the song 'Bewitching' because I listened to that song and oh my god; ideas. This is also increasingly stupid lol

No one's perspective.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Elsa was always the star of the show. It was how it went. Ever since you arrived. No matter how many times you argued with her German persuasion, you eventually caved in. However, you were just a regular person. No deformations or things that were different to the general public.

You were just beautiful.

Elsa wanted to 'floral' up the show a bit before her entrance, and the way she did that was with you. Hours upon hours; you, Ma Petite and Eve created something. Something all of you were convinced wouldn't work.

There on the stage, a flower pot to hold you, some sort of paper mache flower, roots, stems and leaves. Things that could be manuvered easily with just your arms and legs.

The first time Elsa saw it, your heart sort of dropped in nerves. She just stared for a few minutes in silence, unfeeling and unemotional. "It is fine. Put it away until the show tonight."

"Wait I haven't even practiced anything yet!"

"Then practice now!" And she walked off without another word.

"...fuck." you shakily whispered. Nerves, worries and insecurities hitting you like a fucking truck. Part of you, okay all of you, was convinced Elsa didn't want this idea anymore. She saw what was made and now it was so stupid. You'd end up distracting everyone and no one would want to hear her sing anymore. She was convinced people would stay for her performance. Only a half-truth. People wanted the shock value of the freaks. They wanted to make their evening watching the ones who were disregarded from this world.

This whole idea was juvenile now. It felt juvenile. Stupid and worthless. No one would care for this. No one would believe it. They'd call you out, walk out of the place and- "Hey. You got this.." Jimmy's voice snapped you out of your stare, and you rubbed your face of any visible despair. "C'mere.." He placed his hand, hesitantly, on the small of your back, walking you towards the fake plant pot. But, Jimmy did relax when you relaxed into his touch, rather than arching your back away.

Watching the others gather themselves, and sit in the audience seats. "You got this sweetheart, we're all supportin' you." Desirée's reassurance definitely helped you, and you took a deep breath. Hiding yourself in the pot for a moment. You never performed before. Not even a silly little song for Jimmy when it was just you two.

Looking up to Jimmy, you gave a small nod, and he gave a confident smirk. He was used to this...but it never stopped his own insecurities. "Come one! Come all! Witness with your very own eyes, a rarity that was rumoured to exist until...now!"

You raised a hand, paper leaves sticking out of your arm from your glove.

"Found deep within a dark, remote cavern... somewhere beyond the farthest reaches of the Orient!"

Your other arm raised on the other side, darker paper leaves shimmering under dim sunlight as your arms moved hesitantly. Jimmy glanced down at you before he spoke again. A reassuring wink thrown your way.

Jimmy slowly sidestepped around the fake flower pot, continuing his monologue. "Her intense beauty is extremely enchanting...yet she's also the most dangerous..lethal plant known to man!"

You heard everyone give little whoops and cheers. It boosted your confidence and made you feel like you were on top of the world. Jimmy's voice was soothing somehow, despite the fact he was reciting a new monologue that you had written together a few hours prior. "Fine people!"

"Feast your eyes upon the breathtaking.." Jimmy stood behind you, ready to help you up if needed. "Yum Yum Flower!" You shot up in an instant, your eyes meeting everyone within seconds. The sweat on your forehead felt like it was burning your skin, but you blinked and gathered your mindless thoughts. One ankle crossed over the other, keeping pretend lustful eye contact with the men of the freakshow. It felt slightly embarrassing to do this in your normal clothes but you knew it would feel worse with a dark green bodysuit on, your legs more out on your show than any other part of you.

Slowly, you turned in place as Jimmy started to speak again. The tips of his conjoined fingers finding your body. Lightly holding onto you as you spun. "Her beauty, hypnotizing!"

Jimmy was about to continue when Elsa walked back into the main tent. You stopped where you were, blinked back to reality and looked at her. Everyone else did too, and waited for her to talk. "Well, meine hübsche, I must say, it might just bring in a customer or two..." Jimmy's hands were still on your hips, just holding onto you as Elsa spoke. It was oddly comforting. Elsa's words were true, yet laced with disbelief. She never wanted anyone to take her spotlight. Jimmy knew that all too well, and it only made him dig his fingers into you slightly.

You glanced back at Jimmy, slight worry on your face. "But I would recommend some of those...silly paper flowers over the edge. You can teach Salty and Pepper how to make those, little lilies you like so much." Elsa waved everyone off, and walked back out to her own tent.

A heavy sigh left you and your arms dropped finally. Jimmy went to slip the gloves off you, placing them gently on the ground. "I'm sorry.." he apologised into your ear, murmuring your name softly to comfort you. A small smile graced your lips, which made Jimmy smile too. That's all he wanted. "You have such a beautiful smile, y'know that?" He chuckled into your ear, which in turn made you chuckle.

"wanna go back to my caravan for a bit?" He suggested quietly, in which you nodded and let Jimmy take your hand, bringing you out of the made-up pot. After another breath, the both of you headed to Jimmy's caravan. Elsa's grip and need for stardom suddenly felt heavy on your chest, like it did for everyone else.

"Fuck..."

"Hey, daydreamer... you're okay," Jimmy reassured, bringing you down onto his lap, rubbing your back soothingly as your hands went around his shoulders. "You're okay. Elsa..."

"Elsa needs her stardom...it's alright. I understand."

He sighed and nodded, gazing up at you as you almost seemed done with Elsa's 'love' already. Silently, you leaned down and hid your face in his neck, just taking your time to stay in Jimmy's arms.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tags: @cameronwillow / @taintandviolent / @oceanblvd111 / @nahoyasboyfriend / @slutforgarlogan / @marchs-hummingbird @american-horror-whore /. @evanpeterspeter / @feefymo / @fear-is-truth / @lacucarachapisser @saintlucretia / @xrag-dollx / @evansroses / @milkdahmer

[correlatedcontents]

the uncle who works for nintendo: ten years on

10 years ago today i released a game called THE UNCLE WHO WORKS FOR NINTENDO. with art by Kim Parker, multiple endings, a metafictional structure, and extensive sound design, it was (and remains) my most ambitious completed solo dev project. initially conceived as the gamergate harassment movement sprawled over social media, and coinciding with the attacks on residents of ferguson, mo following the police killing of michael brown, it's often seemed in retrospect that this was a moment where the loathsome present really crystallized

for my part, the response to the game was beyond all expectation; kotaku linked it and totally obliterated my webhosting, incurring a huge overage charge. i was a poor grad student and people helped crowdfund the cost. that was amazing, but the whole thing kind of scared me, honestly!

that's mainly why my projects from this point scaled back, then ended as i turned my mind toward finishing grad school: i didn't have the time or resources to technically expand in the ways that i wanted, and furthermore i was leery of becoming a guy who was expected to make Statements.

the intervening years have been… well, they've been something. you were there, presumably. one of the people namechecked in the game's author notes, a target of harassment at the time, is now a noted unprincipled political hack, and i'm not talking about zizek. but remember quoting zizek?

the world turns. i recorded my first podcast because of this game. it got onto people's best of the year lists. paste called it "the indie game of the year." it won the xyzzy award for best npc.

and none of the stuff that distressed me so much that i made the game went anywhere.

there was a lot of talk in the early 2010s about the power of games to change people and make them better. and i think that's probably true--all encounters with art can change you, for better and worse--but i've long been skeptical of strong and positive claims for art's "efficacy."

i didn't think my game was going to solve any problems, but it was at least going to index them. and i think it indexed gamergate, though it did nothing to stop that ravening, juvenile nostalgia mindset from wholly subsuming the gamer cultural sphere, to say nothing of spheres beyond it

Liz Ryerson, another influence on UWWFN, recently wrote a long essay about just this.

but one thing the game's reception did show me is that there are in fact people who want to think, ant to interrogate the easy bindings between experience and unreflective thought, and find ways of thinking and feeling contrary to the ever-rising tide of culture's venom. the world is not settled.

the game cemented my friendship with Cameron Kunzelman, and the podcasting work we've since done for Ranged Touch has been (to my mind) more useful in this regard than any game i could make, modeling engagement with the weirdness of both art and the world critically and thoughtfully. and gaming is not kaput! i was fortunate to make connections within the twitter dev scene, and currently work at Half Mermaid on a project that will not make you a better person, but might offer ways for thinking about life in a turbulent world where our ugliness is sold back to us at a premium.

10 years is somehow both a short time and, it turns out, an incredibly long time. a lot happens, and it's never enough, and it's also way too much. and sometimes a decade on, even when you're a guy who doesn't want to make Statements you still feel like there's something worth remarking upon. thanks

[entomolog-t]

INSTAЯ (3)

Multi Prompt Post; Mirror, Forlorn, Hush

Who else has ever thought, "You know what charades is missing? Angst."

In case the remark above wasn't clear, this chapter deals with some decent angst- you have been warned.

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Word count: 2755

CW: Mild body horror, Panic/angst, Unintentional dehumanization, Adult language

I gasp as the weight in my hand thrashes- jerking up and scrambling back in my open palm. 

It- it’s alive?!

As if I’d been given a handful of burning coals, instinct yanks my hands back and the… thing clatter onto the floor with an audible clink.

What the fuck is -

Before my brain can follow, a not quite human form stumbles to its feet and bolts away and at an unnerving speed. Within a matter of seconds the kitchen erupts into chaos. Honey’s barking reverberates against the walls as she follows suit- bounding after it as if it were one of the numerous elusive squirrels frequenting the property. Mouth open, she lunges, in an attempt to grab it but the creature dives out of the way, letting out a strained noise- a high pitched wail followed by a series of clicks as it darts under the kitchen table. Like a bull in a China shop, Honey continues her pursuit, carelessly shoving chairs aside without a second thought as she gives chase to … to what?? Its almost as if my brain stutters, stumbling over dots it’s struggling to connect.

The creature- as fast as it was- was no match for Honey, especially in the open expanse of the kitchen. Their frantic chase lasts all of 10 seconds before Honey has it cornered. 

The creature squeaks- crying out as Honey pounces from side to side, yipping at it as she urges it to play in her very one sided game of chase- daring it to run. I stare blankly, having barely moved since my initial fright. 

I couldn't quite see the creature from my vantage point behind Honey, but the glimpses I had gotten were telling; the iridescent sheen, the strange limbs… 

There was no way…

The strained chittering from the corner jolts me out of my thoughts. Honey playfully nips at the creature not unlike the way she used to annoy the neighbors barn cat, blissfully unaware she was just torturing the poor thing… until he had swiped at her- The thought sends a chill through me. Would it bite her? Memories of its horrific mouth and those clawed finger tips are pulled from my mind… Sure, it was small, but that certainly didn’t mean that thing wasn’t dangerous- especially now that she had it cornered. 

My mind was racing, searching desperately for some sort of plan of action. What was I supposed to do? There was no way I was letting that thing escape somewhere in my house- but its not like I could just let Honey maul some… Alien..? Monster? I still had no clue what that thing was, and there was absolutely no way I was going to be touching that thing myself. I shuddered as my brain conjured up various gore filled movie scenes of parasitic aliens burrowing themselves into a host. Was that what it was? Some juvenile alien looking for a host?? My eyes hastily dart around the kitchen, looking for some kind of solution- and then I see it. 

A whiskey glass.

On the counter I spot one of the fancy glasses Clyde had insisted on bringing over the last time we drank. At the time I thought he was being pretentious, but at this moment I’m filled with nothing but thanks. 

I take a wary step forward and watch as both Honey and the creature’s head are on me in an instant. I give a sharp whistle. 

"Off." Honey tilts her head, reluctant to give up her new plaything, but upon making a noise of disapproval, she relents, trotting over behind me as she would when out hunting. I quickly take her spot- not letting the creature leave the corner. 

There's an audible squeak from the creature as I kneel down. It chitters frantically, all four of its arms raised up in between us as it takes a step back.  

Its antennae twitch in a way that almost seems ... nervous. It’s tail- I furrow my brow- it had a tail? Aside from the drastic change in size, the creature looked slightly different than it had before.  For one- it had a tail; whip-like and bristly, almost like a porcupine with its spines folded back. It’s antennae seemed thicker, club-like near the tip, and its shell, no longer an inky black, had taken on a deep bluish green tone. It stares up at me, eyes wide and unblinking as it continues to chitter, head turning to look at the glass and back to me. 

I raise the glass over its head and the creature stumbles, falling backwards in a much too human-like motion- a fearful little action that nearly makes me feel guilty. As the glass comes down over it, the creature ducks its head forward, clambering to its hands and knees- the whiskey glass too shallow even with it sitting.   

For a moment, we both stare at each other, until the reality of the situation seems to settle in; I had caught some tiny creature maybe-alien in a whiskey glass. 

Just what the Hell was I supposed to do now? Should I call some? Who would I even call??

I caught myself right before starting to chew on my thumb, trading in the old habit for occupying my hands with fidgeting instead. My eyes scan the countertops for my phone, finding it in its usual place at the corner opposite to me, right between my notepad and truck keys. 

I hesitate- not too keen on the idea of leaving the creature unattended even for a brief moment, lest that thing get loose in my house. Wracking my brain for any sort of plan, I start taking a mental inventory of anything I could possibly use within arms reach.

Cleaning supplies, baking supplies, paper towels, paper plates- 

I pause. 

That could work.

Opening the cupboard to my left, I pull out a paper plate. Tipping the glass up ever so slightly, I slip the plate underneath, frantically trying to convince myself this is no different from catching a wasp.

It’s face turns up to lock eyes with me, muffled chittering escaping from through the glass. It seemed to stare daggers at me, squinting at me as if it were… insulted? 

Questions of its intelligence resurface once again. There was no doubt in my mind that it was thinking, analyzing my actions as it scrutinized me… It had known how to lock the doors- Just how smart was this thing? More importantly - what was this thing? 

As I shimmy the plate underneath the glass, the creature reluctantly crawls onto it, its glare never once relenting. I stand, placing the trapped monstrosity on the countertop near my phone. With a deep breath, I pick up my phone and stare at the screen- my mind once again racing at the bizarre logistics- just who the Hell I was supposed to call about a potential alien I had trapped like some kind of weird bug? Should I call Clyde? The police? They’d think I was crazy, right? Should I lie, or - 

Tink.

A sharp clinking interrupts my thoughts. The creature bangs on the glass and I instinctively recoil 

“Fat chance I’m letting you out-” I mutter, but my words die in my mouth the moment my eyes are on it. I watch in horrified fascination as the creature gestures frantically pointing to the notepad. 

I freeze- heart beating wildly in my ears.

Did… Did it want to write?

An uneasy feeling creeps at the edge of my consciousness, making my skin prickle. As soon as I pick up the notepad it nods vigorously. That simple gesture made my skin crawl. It was communicating…

I feel as the blood drains from my face- a noticeable sinking feeling in my gut at the brief glimpse of this…this being’s intelligence.  

I blanche, staring at the being, dumbfounded. Its mouthparts twitch under my gaze, as it continues pointing insistently at the notepad and then to the pen, looking all too human in its frustration. 

It’s as though I’m underwater, my movements delayed as I pull up a chair and sit down. Carefully, I tilt the glass, a not insignificant part of my brain expecting the creature to dart off… but it doesn’t. Ever so slowly, it gets to its feet, tail swishing nervously as its multitude of eyes stay locked on my own. 

It chitters, raising up its first set of arms, gesturing impatiently for me to hand it the pen. I comply, placing the pen in their outstretched arms, taking note of just how massive the pen looks in their strange grasp; The being no bigger than the pen itself- if that. 

I flip the notepad open to a blank page and place it down in front of them. They awkwardly jostle the pen around, trying to figure out how best to hold it before figuring out a relatively steady grasp- the sight would be comical if it weren’t so bizarre… so real. In a motion almost akin to sweeping, bit by bit shaky letters begin to form.

H…E…L…P

I gasp- eyes wide as I read the word… the English word.

“H-help?” The creature flattens its antennae at the sound of my voice, but nods, “How-” I shake my head, wanting my own answers, “What are you?”

Again, it awkwardly dances with the pen as it answers,

H…U…M…A…N

It stares at the word before it moves, standing on the “HU” portion, and gesturing to the remaining letters.

M… A… N

My skin tingles with the pricking sensation of goosebumps as I read the word over again, mouth agape. A nervous laugh escapes me as the apparent not-so-human human points to the word and back to itself- himself. I grimace.

“I got news for you, buddy.”

The least human looking man I’d ever laid eyes on  chitters an aggravated series of clicks as he begins to write again, almost as if muttering to himself. 

W…A…N…T  

My mind reels trying to figure out what he would need.

L … O…O…K

As he finishes his second word he then points to himself. 

My mouth goes dry. Were they really human?  Worse yet, if he was … what happened to him?  

My voice feels hollow as I speak, 

“You want to look…? At yourself??” 

He makes a chirping sound, responding with an emphatic nod. An uncomfortable thought crosses my mind, Had he not seen what happened to him? I chew my lip, my thigh bouncing wildly beneath me.

“You know, it would have been faster to write mirror.” I quip, trying to relieve some of the tension I felt boiling under the surface. 

He chitters in what I assume to be annoyance, sounding oddly similar to a treed squirrel. I hear the jingle of Honey’s collar as she perks up- clearly all too familiar with that sound. 

I shoot Honey a stern look, 

“Stay.” Turning back to the little being I add, “That goes for you too,” as I get up to grab my purse from the coat rack. He tosses his hands up in an exaggerated gesture of exasperation. 

It’s as though I’m in a daze, my brain on autopilot as I navigate my way around the carnage of the night prior. The newfound context of the incident with the creature twisting a knot in my stomach. It’s- no, his hands raised in a placating gesture between Honey and himself… pleading to me… looking for help. I exhale- my breath coming out shaky. There were still so many questions- and it seemed like he had questions of his own as well. 

I return to the kitchen with my purse, finding him sitting down on the countertop, staring blankly at his hands. Upon my approach his antennae perk up, and he stands to meet me. I can’t help but stare. He looks so small. I rummage through the mishmash contents of my purse, pulling out a compact with a mirror. Part of me wants to warn him- but what was I supposed to say? Heads up, you’re fucking horrifying? Surely he would have some understanding about his situation. It’s not like they couldn’t see their own body… Or my reaction to him last night. Without saying a word, I pop the compact open, placing it in front of him.

At the sight of his reflection, he stumbles back- his strange mouth hanging agape. That is, until he catches sight of his mouth- his hands flying up rapidly to cover it from view. For a moment, everything is still. He stands frozen in front of his reflection, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Soft chittering fills trinkles into the silence. In an agonizingly slow motion, his first pair of limbs reaches upwards, while his second remains wrapped around his waist, as if covering himself. His hands move across the hard surface of his face. He grazes clawed fingertips around each eye, hands trembling as they come up to feel the horn like protrusions at his crown. 

He drops his hands, gaze falling to stare at them, before returning to his reflection once more. His movements at first slow and timid, increase in speed. He grabs at his face, twisting his head left and right before trembling hands grope at the gaps in his exoskeleton- frantically gripping and tugging at the edges. The groping becomes more violent- almost mauling- as he starts to pull at the edges of his shell as if wanting to rip it from his body. My hand twitches, ready to intervene. He chitters, and his attention gets pulled to his mouthparts. Motions far too violent, he yanks at the insectoid appendages covering his mouth, peeling back the appendages to stare at the horrific expanse of his oral cavity. I flinch at the pained squeak they make as he sees the grotesque sight of his inhuman maw. His chittering grows frantic- pained even. 

Hands shaking, he scrapes at the hard shell of his face with clawed fingers, reefing on any gaps in his armor while making a strange shrill sound, like a bird simultaneously whistling and hyperventilating. The sound came forth rapidly and without rhythm, hitching and catching at random intervals as his chest heaved- 

Oh. 

He was sobbing. 

My heart aches at the sight, and without thinking I reach my hand out in an attempt to break him from his panic. He flinches back staring up at me with too many wide wet eyes. I hesitate- hand hovering just before him, my heart wrenching in my chest. 

Ever so carefully, I curl my fingers around him. He stiffens, freezing in place. I brush my thumb across his cheek, gently wiping away a trail of tears dripping down the too hard and too smooth surface of his face. He goes rigid under my touch, but doesn't pull away- instead he looks away, turning his head to avoid my gaze.

I will my hand steady as I hook my finger under his chin, softly guiding his face back to meet mine. 

"Shh." I hush,  "I.. I don't know what's happening, but I'm here to help, okay?" 

As I speak, clawed hands grip onto my finger as his tiny form hunches forward, burying his face against my hand. My skin crawls as I feel his second set of arms unfurl, gripping onto my fingers. The sensation of the far too insect-like texture of their shell and two too many limbs against my skin made me wince- both disgusted with the sensation, but more so with myself for having the disgust cross my mind at all. 

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Almost as if to spite my own thoughts, I wrap my hands around him, in the closest approximation comfort I can think to provide- resenting the way I suppress a cringe as he returns the embrace. 

Muffled chirps spill from between my fingers, his body trembling under my touch. My throat constricts- thigh still rapidly bouncing against the chair. What was I supposed to do? How on Earth was I supposed to offer any comfort? I stroke his side with my thumb, ashamed that fidgeting action was more to comfort myself. I told them I would help them… What am I supposed to do? Is there even anything I can do? My heart wrenches. Fucking useless. In my hands I held a pitiful sight, and there was nothing I could do, no words I could say, no solution I could offer. 

All I could offer were hands to hold him.

[juststoriesintheend]

Unworthy

Pairing: Emerie Karr x Reader

Content: slight angst (but kind of not really), admission of feelings, fluff, 1st kiss, short n sweet

"I wasn't meant to be loved."

It was a simple thing, admitted far into the evening long after your heart had found its way onto your sleeve and your common sense had fled. You'd put too much thought into and hoped she wouldn't put enough in herself, and you let her comfort you with uncertain whisperings and an almost-brush of hands, and you left it at that.

It wasn't meant to be anything more. Yet still the morning came and with it, this strange, frantic conversation that's knocked the breath from your lungs entirely.

"I have often felt the same." She's clutching her datapad to her chest now as she confesses to you, eyes lowered and brows furrowed, her mouth tilted into some small, sad thing. "I have so much to make up for, it seems impossible to atone for, but..."

She stops. Her eyes, so dark and deep, seem to search everything in sight - the floor, the inseam of her boots, the bend of your leg, the lines of your face - until finally, she allows herself to look you in the eye and you see something there that yearns to be free.

"I cannot imagine that you would ever think yourself unworthy."

"Em..."

You want to fight her on this, to push her away as punishment for your own misplaced vulnerability, but those eyes, the way she's watching you. Now's not the time for fighting or for denial.

"I... I have something I need to say, only I'm not sure how to say it."

And the datapad falls away, placed somewhere nearby but ultimately out of sight, so she can take one of your hands in hers. It's the first time, the first real time, that she's chosen to initiate a touch between you, and it sends a thrill down your spine. You don't even dare to dream what she might want to say for fear of it coming true, for fear of it being little more than a wish. For fear that her words could topple you in an instant and you'd be powerless to stop her. But that's just love.

Emerie shifts a little closer. She takes hold of your other hand. Her toes fit into place between your feet. She leans in, so gentle and slow, until her forehead touches yours, and it's then that the curtain of her hair falls over one shoulder; a wave of dark curls that smells like her perfume and the sweetness of orchids.

She breathes in. Then out. Her breath stirs upon your skin, heating the apples of your cheeks and triggering your pulse until its galloping inside you, thrumming and straining as the everything that is her begins to consume you.

"I was alone," she finally says, "for so long. I did things I'm ashamed of now. And all this time, I thought I wasn't meant for anything more than that. You" - and she squeezes both your hands - "have made me feel more alive than, than anything I've done since the day I was taken from my pod."

There's a moment after that. It's fragile and uncertain, but it spans an eternity, warmed only by the sharing of breath and the flush in your cheeks. The air is electric in the wake of this second confession. It's so charged that you can feel it seeping into your bones until it curls up to rest somewhere in your ribcage, just below the place in your heart where Emerie has made her home.

Her breath stutters, she withdraws, glances hesitantly in your direction, and then she kisses you.

If ever there was a defining moment in the universe, this would be it. This awkward fumbling of mouths is almost juvenile, but it's everything. It's beautiful. It's perfect. It's her. It's her scent, her taste, the lingering notes of sweetened caf and caramel, the brush of her hair on your face, the palm of her hand on your cheek as she draws you in, closer, closer, until you're sure you're one being.

"You were meant to be loved," she tells you when she pulls back. Her lips are damp with your saliva and her pupils blown, and she's the loveliest thing you think you've ever seen. "You... are loved."

If she can be brave enough to admit it, then so can you. With your lungs on fire and your heart about to beat out of your chest, you offer your own admission. It's a simple thing, yes, but you mean it more than you've ever meant anything else. You've loved her since you met, even if you didn't know it, even if the words weren't there. Your heart had always known.

From now own, she's the only thing it will ever know.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

more of duncan x reader ? pretty please ?, that man needs more love in his life , soft and gentle kisses that turn into something more anh anh

You know what? YOU KNOW WHAT???? I’m gonna do their first kiss. Let’s go crazy together <33 (im using car accident reader from the other blurbs btw)

——-

The night grew darker and the weather harsher. The power had gone out, and you and Duncan huddled close to the fire, nursing some hot chocolate.

He intently listened to you tell stories of your past, opting to stay quiet as you gestured around excitedly. His hand was on your knee, tracing small, soothing circles with his fingers. He was still getting used to this casual intimacy, but he cherished it deeply.

His greatest fear was the possibility of things ending between you. You were still in a nebulous place regarding your relationship, not having spoken of it yet. He let you do most of the moves, but he was slowly growing more confident as trust continued to build between you.

He was unsure of how you really felt for him, though he had seen affection in your gaze a few times... even if he was still unwilling to believe himself lucky enough to be on the receiving end.

"I don't really know what I was thinking, trying to road trip in the middle of winter," you said as you stared at the fire pensively, finishing the story of how you'd gotten there. "I just had to get away, you know? Get in the car and drive until nothing around me was familiar. So dumb... I'm just glad my survival instincts kicked in like that."

"You're very strong," he said reassuringly, squeezing your knee gently. "I admire that in you."

The way you looked at him then, eyes glittering in the low light, made his breathing hitch. A grateful smile spread across your face, but you shook your head.

"You're sweet, but I know what I did was stupid... You could even say I brought it upon myself."

"You're too harsh on yourself," he said, more solemnly. "Believe me, I know about mistakes."

"And maybe you're too forgiving of me," you teased, bumping your shoulder against his gently.

His eyes were immediately drawn to your lips, but even if he quickly looked back into your eyes, it was impossible for you not to notice.

You stared at each other for a moment, silence hanging between you like a tense line.

Then, in the faintest voice, you said. “Duncan?”

“Yes?”

“Can I… kiss you?”

The word caught in his throat, but he nodded. He stayed frozen as you slowly approached, sliding your body closer to his.

His eyes were low lidded as your lips tentatively touched his. Then you felt bolder, cupping his face, coaxing him into a deeper kiss.

The smallest sound of yearning escaped his throat and his hands hesitantly slid up your arms. He wanted to crush you against his chest, but he was using all of his self control to stay put.

You slid a little closer, letting him gently wrap his arms around you. It was sweet, overall, just exploring this new sensation between you. Your heart was jack hammering against your chest, and you felt giddy and juvenile.

You leaned your foreheads together after, just wanting to stay close. He kissed the tip of your nose and you shared a little smile.

“I’d been wanting to do that for some time,” You said, and the two of you chuckled.

“Me too.”

“So… Do you wanna do it again?”

Instead of responding, his lips met yours, and you kissed until the fire started to die down into embers.

——

[a-slut-for-smut]

The Confession

After a few drinks, Gojo is drunk.  Very drunk.  Courage courses through his veins, a foreign and unfamiliar a substance as the alcohol was- as what use was courage to the World’s Strongest Sorcerer, the Honored One, the sole heir to the all powerful Six Eyes and Limitless techniques?

*****************

He turned his gaze on the source of his trepidation as she sipped her drink, seemingly oblivious to his inner tribulations.  They were sitting next to each other, practically touching, and while he went to great lengths to never have it activated around her, there was no denying the infinity between them. 

The irony was not lost on him. The torture of harboring such an immense desire to close the distance yet simultaneously an antithetical state of panic- Gojo had no doubt in his mind, this truly was the most twisted curse of them all.

Restlessness gets the best of him, quickly downing two cocktails and in no time, Gojo is drunk.  Very drunk.  Courage courses through his veins, a foreign and unfamiliar a substance as the alcohol was- as what use was courage to the World’s Strongest Sorcerer, the Honored One, the sole heir to the all powerful Six Eyes and Limitless techniques? 

But he let it influence his body and mind as a curse would; an unexpected ally against his worst enemy- himself.  His lips loosen as his heart overflows; weighted words finally escape that would otherwise cower and chain themselves to his throat.

“I really, really missed you Utahime.”  But his eyes said more...so much more.  

She’s unable to meet those cosmic orbs of his, refusing to allow herself to be drawn in by the gravity within them. 

“Well, you better work on your aim then” she replies, chortling at her lame joke as she sips her drink.

Gojo pressed on, undeterred now with alcohol marching to his aide.

“Did you…did you miss me….?”   As much as I missed you?  

Did you ache for me? 

As much as I ached for you?

Utahime was resolute, eyes locked onto her glass. 

“Hmm. I did notice it was a lot quieter lately.  Much more peaceful.  I missed that.  It was like a dream.”

“A dream, huh?” Gojo shakes his head, chuckling lightly.   Some things never change, and he was glad for it. 

“You know…the whole time we've been apart felt like a blur; I can't even tell you what I did or what happened.  It was like...being in a memory of a place, but the memory was fading.  Although there was one thing i do remember, a dream I had….one I could never forget.” He fought the urge to fidget with his glass as he continued, settling for an iron grip.

“I was on some train, maybe on my way to a mission, watching the sunset out the window…when suddenly you were there sitting next to me, and…and you were holding my hand. That was it, that was the dream.”  He winced at the juvenility of his words; an unavoidable effect of the alcohol but a worthy tradeoff if it gave him the strength to gamble it all, here and now.

"I didn’t know where the train was going, but it didn’t matter, because you were there- with me.  Watching the sunset, together.  And when I woke up, I couldn't believe it wasn’t real. I could feel your hand, your actual hand…”  

He manages to break the uneasy hold on his drink, his hand trailing across the table until it rests on top of her own, fingers coaxing hers to release the glass and intertwine with his.  

“And now I realize why.  Because every time I'm with you, it feels like a dream...” Gojo trails off, willing her to face him.

It works- Utahime an unwitting victim as she looks up and she’s instantly lost, consummately lost in the blinding ardentness in his eyes, the aching tenderness in his smile.   

Upon meeting her eyes, he throws his cards- his entire heart - on the table.

“…and I never want to wake up. Ever.”

****************

Just a drabble/short preview of my next chapter that i'll finish sometime in the next century. Thx for reading xoxo

[allegra-writes]

"The Green-eyed Monster"

"The Claim" Part VI

Armand x Daniel Molloy

Mature

Warnings: Destruction of private property as an aphrodisiac. Look, these two got issues and also are perfect for each other, alright?

MY MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

It had been a stupid fucking idea. A shortsighted, imbecilic, juvenile, dumb fucking idea. But after three weeks, twenty-one whole fucking days, and nights of being holed up in one of Armand’s apartments with only his vampire lover for company, Daniel was ready to gnaw his own leg off. Surprisingly enough, there was only so long he could stay chained to Armand’s bed without starting to feel, well, trapped. So, he had asked, no, demanded to go out, to someplace with music, with people. Somewhere alive . 

Of course, looking back, he realized he could have worded his request a little better, Armand had looked positively startled by Daniel’s shouting, but the human was not about to acknowledge, let alone admit to this, not even to himself. Not after what Armand had done, was probably still doing, back in the club. 

No, Daniel very much rather freeze to death roaming the streets of some godforsaken Nordic country’s winter, cladded in just a pair of skin-tight jeans and a tank top, than to go back into the club and watch Armand get his face sucked off by some slimy businessman that liked to impress twinks by bragging about his Lamborghini. He felt nauseous just thinking about it.

Or maybe that was the booze, he had drunk a copious amount of akvavit, and while he wasn't sure of the alcohol content of the spicy drink, he could guess it was on the higher side. The cold air had managed to clear his head a little but did nothing for his blurry vision, or the acidic bile rising up his chest any time his traitorous brain flashed, in vivid technicolor, the image of the blonde asshole's hand on Armand’s knee, of his smirking face as he leaned closer to him to whisper fucks knew what in his ear. 

Wait. No, that wasn't the jealousy burning up his insides, no. He was actually about to get sick, managing only a couple more steps in the direction of the construction site he had the presence of mind to aim for, before he doubled over and, with a sudden retching, vomited all over the sidewalk. Maybe it was a good thing, after all, that Armand hadn’t followed him when he stormed out of the club, he thought as he was forced to brace on a pile of cinder blocks to push himself upright again. At least that way, he didn’t get to see how much of a pathetic mess Daniel was, shivering in his puke-stained wife beater, snot running down his nose as he cried his eyes out because of his serial murder of a… a… He didn’t even know what he was to the vampire. “Boyfriend” sounded so mundane, so unfitting for the ethereal, impossibly majestic Armand. Daniel ought to be thankful he even wanted to spend time with a disheveled, grungy brat like himself, ought to treasure every drop of attention he decided to bestow upon him, every touch, every caress. It was selfish and ungrateful of him to want more . Armand was too huge, too otherworldly for such a primitive human notion as monogamy. Wasn’t that how he had met him, after all? Literally stumbling into him as he and Louis cruised the bars for a threesome? It just hadn't occurred to him that he could be just as easily replaced. 

And wasn’t he such a jerk for it? For never even giving Louis or his pain even a second thought? So caught up in the euphoria of Armand to even consider the potential heartbreak he could be causing Louis? Granted, he had only met the other vampire once, but he had been… nice. Kind. Up until the moment he had attacked him, of course, but in hindsight he was kind of justified, Daniel was the other woman in this situation, was he not?

Fuck, what would his mother think of him if she saw him now?

Suddenly, he wasn’t as mad at Armand anymore. Daniel probably wouldn’t pick himself either. 

Oh, but that man… that sleazy rat currently holding Armand on his lap, he wasn’t all that better than himself either. After all, he had clearly seen them walking in together, had seen the possessive hand Daniel had slid into Armand’s back pocket as they stood by the bar waiting for their, well, Daniel’s, drinks. Yet he hadn’t hesitated to come and swept Armand away with tales of his luxurious new car, so modern and fast it looked more like a spaceship than a car. A Lamborghini Countach, he had said, as if that was supposed to mean anything to Armand. But it had had the intended effect, the vampire had looked infinitely more interested after that, forgetting all about Daniel as the man told him all about valves and cylinders and horsepower. A new toy to play with, the old toy lackluster and dull next to it. 

Daniel was already numb to the cold, still wallowing deep in his self-pity when a gleam at the corner of his eye caught his attention. There, a mere few yards away from him, all sharp lines and lustrous red paint, sparkling like a burning coal in the night, was a brand new sportscar. A quick look at the grilles confirmed it was the Lamborghini of discord, after all, what were the chances of two such cars parked in the vicinity of the very nightclub where some jerk was bragging about owning that very brand and model? In any case, those were chances that Daniel, whose double vision had gone as crimson as the car, was willing to take. 

He was almost regretful, as he grabbed one of the heavy cinderblocks he was leaning onto: Had the circumstances been any different, Daniel would have probably been all over the car, would have loved to take it for a joyride. But alas, things were the way they were, so he shook the thought away like an annoying insect, and continued his determined stumble towards it. With only a little difficulty, due mostly to the weight of the block of cement almost throwing him off his already precarious balance, he raised it, eye level, and sent it flying right through the glossy windshield, shattering it into a million shimmering pieces. 

A dark satisfaction washed upon Daniel, but it was short-lived, as Armand’s voice, knifelike and disapproving, cut through him,

“Daniel, what do you think you’re doing?”

For a few, seemingly eternal moments, Daniel simply stood there, petrified with his hand still up in the air. He considered lying until his alcohol-drenched brain caught up with the fact there was no use trying to deceive someone who could read his every thought as it formed. Deflated, he turned to face Armand, jumping back as he found the vampire standing just a couple of inches away from him. 

“Jeez, warn a guy next time” Daniel laughed, nervously, as his undead lover steadied him with an abnormally warm hand. 

"You are jealous" He whispered, tone almost reverent, amazed. "You destroyed the property of that man because you feel possessive of me"

Despite the cold, Daniel could feel the heat rising up his cheeks. He tried to pry his arm off Armand’s grasp, but it was unyielding. 

"Let go of me" He demanded. Armand simply smirked.

"No"

Daniel intensified his struggles. 

"Let me go!"

"Never" His lover breathed out, before grabbing Daniel’s face in both hands and crashing his mouth to his. 

Daniel hated it. He hated the way it sent shocks of electricity straight to his broken heart, instantly starting to mend it. He hated the way the taste of Armand comforted him, scratching an itch he didn’t even know he was feeling until it was finally relieved, like going hours and hours without a cigarette and suddenly finding himself with one between his lips, realizing that was what he was needing all along. He hated the way he melted into the kiss, like putty in Armand’s deft hands, reshaping him to his will. He broke the kiss, but all it did was leave Armand free to attack his neck, licking it up and down, scrapping at the long and taut column of muscle with blunt teeth, tearing an involuntary moan from Daniel.

“That- fuck!.. That’s cheating” He accused. 

“Is it?” Armand obviously didn’t care, as he flattened the palm of his hand to the curve of Daniel's ass, holding him in place as he ground their hips together. 

“You know damn well it is, you bastard!” Daniel growled, but kissed Armand again anyway, deciding to stop pretending that it wasn’t what he had been craving, what they both had been craving all night. The floor disappeared under his feet then, as Armand made use of his supernatural strength to manhandle him until his back made contact with something icy and hard. The vampire had him trapped against the side of the stupid car, firm thigh between his, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. He didn’t have to be ordered to start doing the same, giving into the feeling, the rough friction of the denim against the delicate skin of his cock. Armand always made sure to give him pants that were too tight for him to wear underwear. He enjoyed watching him squirm every time he moved, didn’t even try to hide it. 

“If you had behaved yourself, I’d be fucking you inside this car by now,” his demon lover spoke straight into his head, evil, wicked tongue busy doing something equally evil and wicked to that spot under his ear, “I guess now I shall settle for fucking you against it…”

“Wait, what?” it physically hurt to part from Armand’s warm body, but somehow, Daniel managed. “Boss, we can’t!”

“And why ever not?” Armand demanded, petulant as a schoolboy. Realizing the vampire thought Daniel was rejecting him, he made sure to soften his voice as he replied:

“Armand… I’m cold” As if on queue, a violent shiver shook Daniel’s entire frame.

“Right,” There was a faint look of surprise on his face, as if it had only now occurred to him that the sub-zero temperatures could be a nuisance for a human. Pupils blown wide and breathing hard, Armand took a step back, “Of course.”

He licked his lips, aware of the way Daniel’s eyes instantaneously zeroed in on the movement, a moth to a very dangerous flame.

“Then perhaps just the blood for now…” 

Felling the heat rise again, Daniel echoed,

“Just the blood?”

“Just a little taste” Armand confirmed, already leaning in, letting his unneeded breath nuzzle Daniel’s neck.

“Just a little- ah!” Daniel cried out at the exquisite pain of Armand’s fangs penetrating his flesh, the erotic, carnal pleasure flooding his veins as the vampire pulled his very life essence and took it for himself. 

Yes… just like that, don’t stop… More… Take it all…  

But the vampire was breaking the embrace, licking up the last droplets with the tip of his tongue, letting the wounds unhealed for once: A physical mark of ownership, a reminder that the human could fuss and run, throw as many tantrums as he pleased, he was still Armand’s . 

“If I am yours, then you are mine” Daniel murmured, resting his forehead on Armand’s warm chest as he bundled him up in his own jacket. He never noticed the way his lover’s arms froze around him, or that he had never uttered the words aloud.

“I noticed” Armand commented, casually, his nonchalant tone not giving away any sign of the turmoil his bright, exceptional boy had just stirred inside him.

“I don’t want you to make out with or fuck anyone else as long as you’re with me…”

“Then I shall not” 

Daniel stood up, looking into his… partner’s? That’s what they were, wasn’t it? Partners. Exclusive. Daniel searched his partner’s eyes for any sign of deception or resistance. He found none. 

“I don’t need anyone else’s touch, my beloved. Only yours.”

Daniel tried not to look too relieved.

“Good. that’s… good”

“Besides” Armand explained, a positively impish gleam in his citrine eyes, “I enjoy watching far more greatly…”

As always, Daniel Molloy had no idea what was coming to him.

[starkiller419]

Sanctuary & Desires - Pt 1.

pairing : Scott Barringer x F!OC Reader | wc : 4.2k | summary : Scott was sent to Horizon, and upon his arrival he met Madison, a fellow student who was chosen to show him the ropes. After a blissful night of passion shared between the two in the confines of the mountains, their lives would change forever.

warnings : 18+, implied smut, angsty, some violence (Scotty has a bit of a temper.), mentions of drugs and drugs use.

a/n : I have like 14k more words to this story but I didn't wanna go overboard on one post so I'll be making this a little series. Also there will probably be no smut because I'm in a smut writing drought rn, but it could change. Who knows 🤷‍♀️

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Birds chirping around the alpine place would have easily been enough for a normal teen to be eased, filled to the core with relaxation - yet, at Mount Horizon, it wasn't anything like that. For such incapacitated adolescents, only the sight of their most prohibited desires - or maybe the ability to forget - could have led a grin to their features.

Scott was one of them. Brought there against his will by the father and stepmother only a few hours prior, the boy's mind scattered everywhere in despair while Peter elucidated every rule about that hell of a prison. He didn't need to be an ascetic within the enclosure of the school's fences. Instead, Scott necessitated for that whore Elaine to be locked up. 

The troubled juvenile used his muffled vision to scan around the shared dorm he was assigned, eyes just as lifeless as reddened - perhaps because of the cocaine he managed to secretly sniff during the journey. Narcos was the only thing that managed to retain his brain from going insane to a complete extent.

"Understood? No sex, no violence, and most importantly no drugs." Peter firmly conveyed, his silhouette settled tall before Scott's. The teen lazed upon his allocated bed, posture disheveled and coarse. He only darted through the counselor's eyes, not erupting a word since there was nothing to say - except for insults, so it was better for his mouth to stay shut.

"I will take it as a yes. Make your bed first, then a student will be waiting outside to show you around. Just keep in mind, your dad choose Horizon over a juvie hall, the only alternative if you choose not to make it work here. It's up to you." Peter continued mere instants later, his tone being as calm yet explainable as possible. And then, Scott was left alone within the wooden walls of the empty dorm. His mind wherever his body chained in a school for freaks. He had no intention of continuing such odyssey whatsoever. Not one bit.

As Scott begrudgingly began to straighten out his rumpled sheets, he heard a soft knock on the door. With an exasperated sigh, he reluctantly made his way over and swung it open, his eyes falling upon the student who would supposedly be showing him around.

She was a young woman, her frame petite yet elegantly poised. Scott couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in her eyes, making him hold his breath for a moment. He could already tell that she possessed a certain captivating charm.

"Hi," She greeted, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "You must be the new guy. Scott, right? I'm Madison, but everyone calls me Mads. I'm here to show you the ropes."

Scott remained silent for a moment, sizing her up with a skeptical gaze. "Yeah. Just lead the way. But don't expect me to be thrilled about any of this."

Mads gave a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with a touch of defiance. "No worries. I'll make sure to keep it interesting for you. The first stop is the common hall. That's where we all gather during our free time."

Scott followed Mads as she led him towards the common hall, her every step exuding an effortless grace. He couldn't help but steal glances at her as they walked, the way her hips swayed subtly, her perfectly sculpted figure showcased by the contours of her clothing. It was hard to deny the allure emanating from her.

As they entered the common area, Scott's eyes darted around, taking in the lively atmosphere. Groups of students huddled together, engaged in animated conversations, or engrossed in various activities. Mads motioned towards a table where a few students were playing a card game.

"Feel free to join, Scott. It's a good way to get to know some of the other students," Mads suggested, her voice dripping with coy suggestion. "Or if card games aren't your thing, I'm sure we can find something else to occupy our time."

Scott's eyebrows arched in intrigue as he considered her proposition. He couldn't help but wonder what other activities Mads had in mind. He decided to play along, letting a smirk tug at the corners of his lips. "Well, Mads," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of teasing. "I'm always up for a challenge. Show me what you've got, and maybe we can find a way to pass the time together."

Madison led Scott through the halls of Mount Horizon, her steps slightly ahead of him, intentionally giving him a view of her enticing figure. She seemed to glide effortlessly, commanding attention as she walked.

As they passed by the chapel, Madison glanced over her shoulder, her gaze meeting Scott's eyes before flickering down to her own body. She subtly adjusted the hem of her skirt, drawing his attention to her toned legs and the tantalizing curve of her hips.

"Scott, have you ever been inside a chapel?" Mads asked, her voice carrying a soft, melodic tone.

Scott's eyes lingered on her figure for a moment before he tore his gaze away, attempting to play it cool. "No, can't say that I have. Why, do you want to pray for my soul?"

Mads chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes. "I'm not exactly the praying type. But the chapel has its hidden delights if you know where to look."

Intrigued, Scott followed her into the dimly lit chapel, its stained glass windows casting a colorful glow across the pews. They wandered towards the altar, where an intricately carved wooden screen separated the sacred space from the hidden alcove behind. Mads beckoned him closer, her voice a seductive whisper. "Care to see the secrets it holds?"

Scott's curiosity was piqued, and he stepped toward her, the allure of the unknown drawing him in. As they reached the screen, Mads leaned against it, running her fingers along the intricate carvings with tantalizing slowness. "Behind this screen," she murmured, "is a small chamber, known only to a select few. It's a place where secrets are shared, and desires are explored."

Scott's heart raced, the electrifying atmosphere between them charging the air. He couldn't resist the temptation any longer. "You've certainly caught my attention. Lead the way."

With a flourish, Mads pushed open the screen, revealing a hidden chamber bathed in soft candlelight. The room was adorned with plush cushions and velvet drapes, an atmosphere of intimacy and secrecy.

She motioned for Scott to join her inside, her eyes filled with an invitation he couldn't refuse. "Welcome to our little slice of heaven, Scott."

Scott, still fairly high on cocaine, felt euphoric. He knew it was partially due to the drugs in his system, but he couldn’t help but feel an innate connection to the woman before him. She walked ahead of him and kneeled down on a soft cushion. She smiled at him sweetly and he felt himself moving to her before he could comprehend what was happening

Scott's steps were almost automatic as if his body was being guided by some invisible force, drawn towards the alluring sight of Madison on the cushion. The drugs coursing through his veins heightened his senses, making every movement, every subtle hint of her body, feel intensified and electrifying.

As Scott neared Mads, he couldn't help but notice the way her skirt clung to her curves, the delicate dark lace of her underwear peeking through. The sight sent a wave of desire coursing through him, his mind clouded with both the effects of the cocaine and the growing hunger that burned within him.

Mads reached out a hand, her touch featherlight against Scott's arm, pulling him closer. "Come, here."

A primal instinct took over Scott's consciousness, overpowering any lingering doubts or hesitations. He sank down onto the cushion beside Mads, his gaze locked with hers, the air heavy with an undeniable tension. His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against the soft fabric of her skirt, the desire to explore her body becoming overwhelming.

Without any hesitation, Scott leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to Madison's, his breath mingling with hers. "You're driving me wild. I need to taste you."

Madison's eyes gleamed with a mixture of mischief and desire. Her fingers traced a tantalizing path up Scott's arm, sending shivers down his spine. And with that, the boundaries shattered, and Scott succumbed to the irresistible pull of his desires, surrendering himself to the enchanting temptations of the hidden chamber and the captivating allure of Madison, his senses consumed by the heady blend of pleasure and excitement.

Their lips collided in a fiery, desperate kiss, fueled by a heady mix of desire and intoxication. Scott's mind swirled with an intensifying haze of sensations, his body responding instinctively to the touch of Madison's hands roaming across his form.

As Mads traced his hands along her body, Scott's fingertips trailed along the delicate curve of her waist, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his touch. The taste of her lips, the warmth of her breath, sent a surge of heat coursing through his veins. A surge of confidence surged within him, emboldening him to deepen the kiss, hungry to explore the depths of her passion.

His movements became more urgent as if guided by some fervent need. Scott's hands threaded through her hair, gently tugging at the strands as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth. Their tongues danced together in a passionate rhythm, each movement igniting sparks of desire.

Madison's fingers gripped Scott's hair, their kiss growing even more desperate as their bodies pressed against each other. The intoxication of their connection heightened the sensations as if they were both intoxicated by the intensity of their desires.

With a surge of exhilaration, Scott gently pushed Mads down onto the cushion, hovering above her, his body yearning for her touch. Their eyes locked, a shared understanding passing between them, as the boundaries of their surroundings faded away.

The room was filled with the symphony of their moans and gasps, mingling with the soft music played by the crackling candles. The scent of anticipation filled the air, as their bodies entwined and gave in to the aching hunger that consumed them.

And in that moment, they drowned in each other, lost in the depths of pleasure and frenzy. The world outside ceased to exist as Scott and Mads became enveloped in the intoxicating symphony of their desires, their connection undeniably raw and primal.

In that hidden chamber, they danced a delicate dance of passion and indulgence, leaving behind the rules and restrictions of Mount Horizon, embracing the forbidden, and finding solace in their carnal desires.

After their intoxicating encounter in the confines of the chapel, the two made their way back to their respective dorms. Scott had joined Madison's group, the Cliffhangers, and over the next few days, they had gone on hikes and adventures, exploring the Pacific Northwestern wilderness. The two had managed to steal forbidden kisses and embraces whenever they could, but the confines of the reformatory school had restricted them from embracing each other fully as they did in the chapel.

The memory of what had happened between them lingered within Scott like an indelible mark on his soul. All of his traumas and frustrations had disappeared in her arms. She made him feel safe, and loved, even with a simple glance in his direction.

However, he couldn't shake the feeling of possessiveness and jealousy that gnawed at him. It was during a group activity that he noticed the lingering glances exchanged between her and another student, Ryan. Ryan's adoring gaze directed towards her ignited a flicker of rage within Scott, setting the stage for a brewing storm of emotions.

Unable to contain his jealousy any longer, Scott sought out Ryan, their heated confrontation escalating into an argument fueled by possessiveness and territorial claims. The air crackled with tension as harsh words were exchanged, both parties refusing to back down.

"Stay away from her man. She doesn't want you." Scott's voice crackled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability, his anger laced with echoes of desperation.

Ryan scoffed, a wicked smirk twisting his lips. "Why should I? She's a free spirit, Scott. She can make her own choices."

The confrontation reached its peak, an explosion of pent-up emotions that left Scott breathless and consumed by regret. He and Ryan had engaged in a physical fight over the girl, which resulted in both of them cooped up in Peter's office to receive a talking-to.

"Why was there an altercation between you two?" Peter asked while he sat across from the two young men, sitting at his desk. Scott rolled his eyes and turned his head to the side, avoiding the question. Ryan however felt the need to speak up.

"Scotty here thinks he has some sort of claim over Madison." Peter's eyes widened at this as he focused his attention on Scott.

"What does he mean by that Scott?" Scott lifted his head to face Peter, and he was sure his emotions and conflicts were showing on his face. 

"I don't know what he's talking about," Scott said as he refused to admit their encounter to the two before him. 

"I think you do Scott. You may be reckless and abashed, but you don't seem like the type of kid to hurt someone for no reason, whatever that reason may be." Peter spoke calmly as his eyes burned into Scotts'. 

"Maybe he deserved it," Scott muttered. Ryan scoffed and Scott's head whipped in his direction, 

"Oh yeah? For what? Fucking your little girlfriend?" Scott saw red as he lunged towards Ryan, the two of them fell from the chair as Scott's fists pummeled into Ryan.

"That's enough!" Peter yelled as he pulled Scott from the boy beneath him, who just lay there laughing at Scott's attempted assault. Peter brought Scott near the entrance of his office and spoke to him in a low tone, so Ryan could not hear. 

"Look, I can see you care about her, don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at her during group. I know you may think you're ready for something like this Scott, but you're not. You have too much to figure out for yourself, too much to understand about you and your past before you can be involved that way with another person. Besides, relationships between students is forbidden here. If that were the case, I would have no choice but to silence the two of you." Peter's expression was caring and understanding as he spoke to Scott, who felt his heart burst at Peter's words. 

"What do you mean silence us?" He asked quietly, 

"We would monitor the two of you and restrict contact with each other. One of you would be removed from the Cliffhangers and placed in a different group." Peter explained to Scott and he felt overly consumed by anger. 

"That's bullshit! Why would you do that to someone? That's not healing anybody, that's fucking torture!" He exclaimed and Peter placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. 

"I never said that's what's happening. As of right now, I have no reason to suspect the two of you have nothing more than a simple crush, and if it stays like that and nothing more ensues, you have nothing to worry about," too late for that Scott thought to himself, "As for now, you and Ryan will be placed on firewood together for the remainder of the week. Take it as an opportunity to overcome your short bearings." 

Scott scoffed before he turned and stormed away, his heart throbbing with conflicting emotions.

The next day Scott sauntered into the mess hall for breakfast, spotting Madison and Kat sitting together at a table eating cereal. She glanced up at him and smiled brightly, causing his heart to flip and flop around. He wanted to smile back, and more than anything he wished he could run to her and wrap her in his arms, kissing all over her body as he once did.

But after what Peter had said he knew he had to distance himself. He wouldn't want to not be able to speak to her or see her because he couldn't hide his emotions from everyone surrounding him. So instead of smiling back, or even acknowledging her, he turned and walked away from her eyesight and left the hall altogether.

One day turned to many, a bittersweet silence between Scott and Mads ensuing. Passing glances were filled with a mix of longing and frustration. The longing in Scott's eyes remained unmistakable, a silent plea for understanding and a chance at redemption. He hated himself for giving her the cold shoulder. He was more than sure that he loved this girl. He had never felt this way for anyone before. And the fact that he was cold as ice to her was torturous for him, even if it was just to reduce Peter's suspicions.

Then after weeks of torture, on a stormy night, rain poured down upon Mount Horizon with relentless intensity, mimicking the chaotic storm that raged within Scott's heart. The sound of rain against the windows echoed his turmoil, urging him to confront his true feelings. Drenched to the bone, Scott found himself unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing him towards her. Determined and resolute, he fought against the raging tempest that threatened to push him away, his heart pounding in his chest.

In front of Madison's dormitory, raindrops slid down his face, as if his tears had mingled with the rain. His breath came in uneven gasps, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. With trembling hands, he knocked on her door, waiting with bated breath for it to open. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw Scott, his face streaked with raindrops and streaks of vulnerability. The intensity in his gaze took her breath away. Her heart quickened as she stepped outside into the rain, her voice barely above a whisper. "Scott, what are you doing here?"

His voice cracked with an impassioned rawness as he spoke with unfiltered honesty. "I can't pretend anymore. The thought of you with someone else tears me apart. These past weeks without you have been unbearable. Not being able to show you how much I care for you has been torturous. I want you. Not just for now, but forever. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine."

Raindrops blended with silent tears as they cascaded down Madison's face. Her vulnerability mirrored in her eyes as she stood before him, caught between her own fears and the love that had slowly but surely blossomed within her. Her voice trembled as she met his gaze, her words laden with emotion. "Scott… I've felt the same way, but I was scared to admit it. It's not just infatuation, it's something deeper. Something I can't deny any longer."

In that moment, every worry, every doubt, every unspoken fear was washed away by the rain, leaving only the profound connection between them. Their hearts beat in sync, a testament to the intense love that had blossomed between them.

As the rain continued to pour, they sought solace in each other's arms, a blissful embrace borne from desire, heartache, and a deep understanding of one another. This stormy night became the turning point in their story--the night they let go of their fears and chose to embark on a journey that would forever change their lives.

And amidst the rain-soaked chaos, Scott and Mads found solace, connection, and love that burned brighter than any storm. As the rain continued to pour, a newfound resolve enveloped Scott and Mads, intertwining their hearts and fueling their hunger for freedom. Their lips met in a deep and passionate kiss, sealing their agreement, their love, and their desire for a life beyond the confines of Mount Horizon.

Breaking away from the kiss, Scott looked into her eyes, a mixture of determination and excitement shining within. "Let's run away. Let's escape this place and create a world where it's just you and me, where we can be free."

Her breath caught in her throat, in a mere matter of weeks and hidden moments, the boy who stood before her had managed to cascade his way into her very soul. Her response was swift and unwavering. "Okay. I want to escape with you. I want to leave this place behind and create our own path."

The two snuck from her dorms, hiding away in an empty storage shed as the rain continued to pound outside. They engaged in searing moments of desire and anticipation for what was to come, the life they would be able to live together. The two spent the night planning their daring escape, their hearts pounding with fear and excitement. Their plan was to wait until the clock struck midnight the following night, taking advantage of the cover of darkness and the exhaustion that often accompanied the late hours.

As the time drew near, their excitement grew. Scott stealthily collected the necessary supplies while Mads gathered any valuable information about the school and its security measures. They meticulously planned their route, leaving no room for error.

Finally, the moment arrived. As the rest of the school slumbered, Scott and Madison slipped out of their dormitories, their hearts pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. Their steps were cautious, ensuring they remained undetected as they made their way toward the school's perimeter.

Aided by their knowledge of the campus, they skillfully navigated through the pathways, using the cover of darkness to their advantage. Their pulses quickened as they neared the fence that symbolized the boundary between captivity and freedom.

Scott's fingers trembled as he fumbled with the fence, silently urging it to give way and grant them their long-awaited liberation. With a sigh of relief, the fence yielded, providing them with an opening just wide enough for their escape.

Hand in hand, hearts racing, they emerged into the wilderness beyond, their spirits soaring as they breathed in the air of newfound freedom. At that moment, they truly believed they had conquered Mount Horizon.

The night swallowed them whole as they pressed on, their senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through their veins. With each step, the darkness of the night seemed to be a metaphorical embrace, wrapping their youthful rebellion in its protective cloak. They walked hand-in-hand for hours, stopping occasionally to exchange in a passionate embrace.

They embarked on an uncertain journey, captivated by the thrill of the unknown and the intoxicating allure of their shared escape. Their destination was not predetermined, their path guided by the whims of the moon and the whispers of their hearts.

As their escape unfolded, their bond only grew stronger. They relied on each other for support, their love becoming a lifeline amidst the unpredictable currents of their adventure. They discovered hidden coves, and secret hideaways, and shared countless stolen kisses under moonlit skies.

However as Scott and Madison ventured deeper into the wilderness, they soon realized that their escape was not without obstacles. The harsh realities of survival gnawed at their romanticized notions, testing their determination and resourcefulness.

They faced treacherous terrains, their clothes becoming tattered and dirty as they trudged through thick mud and dense undergrowth. Hunger gnawed at their bellies, prompting them to forage for food in the unforgiving wilderness. They relied on their wits and burgeoning survival skills, scavenging for berries and edible plants, and sometimes even daringly venturing into small towns to acquire necessary provisions.

Their escapades sparked a sense of adventure within them, reinforcing their bond as they clung to each other for support and comfort. Each hardship only served to strengthen their resolve, their love serving as a beacon of hope in the darkest of times.

In the midst of their journey, they stumbled upon a hidden waterfall, its cascading waters shimmering under the sun's gentle rays. It became a sanctuary, a place where they could wash away their struggles and bask in the purity of their love. They embraced amidst the gentle spray and let the waterfall's serenade drown out the echoes of their past.

As they continued their arduous exploration, they came across a humble cabin nestled amidst a grove of ancient oaks. It seemed untouched by the modern world, a forgotten refuge beckoning them towards its welcoming embrace. Seeing it as a sign, they decided to make it their sanctuary, their home away from home.

The cabin was worn and weathered, but livable nonetheless. They transformed the cabin into a haven, a place where their dreams could intertwine with reality. They adorned the walls with Polaroid captures of their journey, creating a tapestry of memories that whispered stories of a life lived on their own terms.

On one of their few trips to the neighboring small town, Madison had purchased a secondhand sewing machine and tailored the two new outfits, bedding, and towels. They restored the cabin together, spending their days in the blistering Oregon sun creating a home for themselves.

The two learned more and more about each other with each day that had passed. No one from Horizon or from their past had come to look for them, and they didn't care.

[otp-armada]

The 100 Rewatch 2023 Season 1, Episode 1 “Pilot“

Alrighty, live-blogging The 100. If only 2020!Me could see me now.

First off, let me gather myself.

I’ll preface this by saying I’ve recently gotten obsessed with The Rookie shortly before embarking on this rewatch. I’ve forgotten how thrilling it is to fall head over heels for a new ship. Chenford has made me so deliriously ecstatic and in such good spirits that it triggered a sort of informal revival tour of my favorite ships. When the Bellarke compilation on YouTube came up next in queue, I chickened out just as quickly as the first ad popped up. Knowing how their story ends, I was afraid that Bellarke wouldn’t feel the same. That the ending would taint my memory of them upon revisitation.

All of which is to say, this rewatch should be an interesting experiment.

Alright, best get a wriggle on.

Oh, baby!Clarke. And just like that, I’m transported seven years ago to my dining table, where I first pressed “play” on a little CW show that would consume me.

100 years until the Earth is survivable again, eh? Killed everyone, huh? In roughly a year’s time, she’ll be the one thought to have perished in radiation.

“Reality sucks.” Babe, you don’t know the half of it.

The wristbands feel like an ancient relic.

It really has been such a long time since I watched season 1. I’m lost in time. At this point, it really does feel like your typical CW teen drama, and it’s such a strange thought, considering how long I’ve been holding onto the bulk of the narrative where it departed into its unique footprint.

“The rules have changed.” Because *I* made them change, is what’s left unspoken by Abby.

“Your instincts will tell you to take care of everybody else first...” Yep, two minutes in, and I’m emotional.

Baby!Delinquents!!!!

A good bedside manner, Jaha does not possess. There’s blunt and there’s brash, and he is solidly in the latter. The thing about juvenile delinquents? They’re KIDS. Sure, you’ve got the odd murderer in the ranks, but they are few and far in between a sea of children with offenses probably befitting a slight slap on the wrist, if that.

“Your records wiped clean.” Assuming the lab rats don’t expire from radiation upon arrival. Way to incentivize them. Little wonder Bellamy will so easily corral them into removing the wristbands.

For once, the fluke in the plan works to their advantage. If those kids had landed at Mount Weather as intended...*shudder*

Shut up, Finn.

100 + 1 - 2 = A landing party of 99. Check. 👍

“The air could be toxic.”

There they are. The chance encounter of the loves of my life. And of each other’s life.

I want to say something here about the Blake siblings, but I’m too preoccupied with internally screaming at the sight of my bby boy on my screen again.

Have I mentioned that I’m adrift in time??

Little do these three know how entangled their fates will be. From here on out, they will be the trio comprising the foundation of this entire saga. The trifecta.

“Like being the first person on the ground in 100 years.” “First one to touch the ground loses.” My oh my.

I AM AWASH IN NOSTALGIA

I WILL BE BLASTING RADIOACTIVE AFTER THIS EPISODE AND YES IT WILL BE STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT

Oh, back when it was all so simple...

I’m conflicted. I want the perfect marriage of this simplicity before the wars with S6 Bellarke at the helm. Basically, what season 7 should have been. Don’t we all? *sigh*

Finn is such a chameleon, it’s infuriating. He is whatever fantasy version he thinks will earn him brownie points with the pretty girl. I can’t believe there was a time when I didn’t mind him. He was every bit the textbook teen heartthrob with floofy hair I thought wouldn’t be so bad. Basically, this dude, with a slightly deceptive edge.

By now, Clarke and Wells had ingrained themselves into my heart. Too soon, you say? Perhaps. But it was always the logical, pragmatic, responsible characters I found myself leaning to. Always the ones I felt should be in charge.

You’ve been on the ground for a minute, Murphy, how’d you put together a posse already?

Poor Wells. He’s so sensible here, and he’s ignored because of the tall shadow his father casts. I do wonder the man Wells would have become had he lived. I’m not under any impression that he would be stagnantly stalwart. The axiom of a show continually striving to push its characters to the brink is that no one is incorruptible, even those we approximate most to pure cinnamon rolls. There is no such animal in this narrative.

“Do you think we care who’s in charge? We need to get to Mount Weather not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we’ll get and the harder this’ll be. How long do you think we’ll last without those supplies? We’re looking at a 20-mile trek, ok? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave now.”

Bellamy knew. I don’t mean it in a “he was in love with her at first sight” kind of way. He correctly assessed her right here and then as one who could seize control as the de facto leader of the camp. And where would it put him and Octavia then, if the princess got her way, if the Ark came down as planned? No, what appears as attitude toward Clarke and Wells is a well thought-out ploy to wrestle the camp in his favor in their absence. And it worked.

Oh, right. I remember. Here’s the faux-hero complex that ingratiated Finn to my good side.

“Rescue me next.” Icky.

“I need to just do something crazy just because I can, and no one, including you, is gonna stop me.” You will not lack opportunity for craziness. One might say you will not miss any chance, including, but not limited to, tyranny. 

Oh, no. The evil black lightbulb is going off in Rebel!Bellamy’s head.

“Before you get any ideas, I don’t care.” You really should have stuck to these guns, Clarke.

“The Chancellor’s been shot.” *record scratch*

Jasper and Monty, precious, innocent beans. Before the world scarred them so badly. As close as brothers, who will one day branch off into diametrically oppositional philosophies about humanity and the meaning of life. One to nilihism, one to hope. 

“Being born.” Cue the bunker flashbacks. As many mistakes as she will make in her pursuit of agency, Octavia’s initial resentment toward the Ark cannot be blamed. By the laws of the Ark, she was born a criminal by virtue of existing. Lost her mother, displaced from her brother and her home, what little there was, and lost a year of her life, during which she could presume she’d be killed the moment the illusion of civility peeled away when she turned of age.

Weird the mutant monsters swiftly disappeared, but these kids had enough problems on their plate.

Though Abby will catch a lot of flak later on from the fandom, I hardly think anyone wouldn’t cheer her on in the pilot. I know I always have been. She’s on the praiseworthy delineation of “rebel.”

“He’s no one. A janitor.”

Good one, Shumway.

“Her mother kept her hidden for 16 years. Nearly a record.” I’m sorry? Nearly a record? What is the record for “longest hidden kid,” then?

I still take it with a grain of salt that Bellamy and Octavia would be the only siblings in 97 years on this orbiting hunk of metal. Presumably, there would be plenty more in Aurora’s predicament. Poor women from the lower classes with limited, if not scarce access to medical resources. Women who didn’t want to abort their second child. Mixed families. Multiple spouses, what with the death toll of a justice system embroiled in capital punishment. Step-children, half-siblings. It makes you wonder what kind of medieval laws an unforgiving society like the Ark would enact to ensure its rigid population control.

I will say the power struggle between Abby, Jaha, and Kane, with the morality conflicts emerging from the Ark, was what first drew me in to this show. The kids were...the teens from your average CW show on your average stilted CW pilot. The Ark adults were intriguing and provocative. For me, at least.

I have to hand it to Bellamy. Both he and Clarke know how to make compelling arguments for their causes. It’s a shame how Clarke’s station is her albatross (for the time being) when she has everyone’s best interest in mind. For once, Bellamy’s origin from Factory Station is his advantage. He can connect to these errant kids seeking freedom like Clarke cannot. It’s a good metaphor for how subversive the worlds of the Ark and Earth appear to be. Visually, yes, between the muted grays of space versus the bright colors of Earth, but also, the visages of emancipation and carte blanche versus confinement and restraint between the adults and the kids.

And yet, while Bellamy offers the kids the allure of freedom, it’s really a facade as he cleverly maneuvers himself to the top just as the same as the leadership hierarchy he resents. Smart of him, until he runs afoul of a betrayed Murphy.

It’s funny how out-of-touch the adults are with the kids. Never does it occur to them that the kids they imprisoned are voluntarily removing the wristbands to escape the Ark’s reach until another kid clues Abby in.

“So that was the secret they locked you up to keep, why they kept you in solitary, floated your old man?” I know Finn’s laundry list of Clarke’s nightmares is for exposition, but it’s undermined when rattled off by this sleazebag with a poor attempt at compassion offered solely to charm her. In layman’s terms, shut up, Finn.

“My mother disagreed.” And it doesn’t occur to you that your mother may have been directly responsible for your father’s execution? It HAD to be Wells? I guess, had I been Clarke, it’s easier to blame him than to consider the horrifying reality of how Jake’s death came to be.

“We have to warn them.” “That’s what my father said.”

Once again, I am reminded of how little concerted effort Jason can put into a lot of these provisional relationships. Sometimes, the show skillfully communicates a layered storyline with very little footwork. Other times, it’s not so great.

Octavia had no way of knowing how deep the water was, monsters notwithstanding.

Our first foray into Jasper the Hero. It hurts already to think ahead to the hollow young man he’ll become when he can’t save the girl.

For a sea monster of that size, you’d think Octavia’s wounds would be larger. Like, a whole leg bitten off.

“Earth Day 2052″ I just noticed.

“Note to self: next time, save the girl.” Oh, you will, Monty.

Very evocative Lord of the Flies imagery.

“We can take care of ourselves, can’t we?” You are all a scrappy, resilient bunch, but you will soon find survival in this neck of the woods to be an uphill battle.

Love this exchange between Wells and Bellamy. Wells, of course, is right. Though Bellamy’s anger is not without reason. His argument is wrapped up in camp politics, but here we have a glimpse of the Bellamy who always tapped into his pain to persuade others to his side. The Bellamy who speaks from his heart, even when the message may be a little flawed in execution.

What about the kids whose loved ones remain on the Ark? How aren’t they hesitant about abandoning them?

Iconic.

Currently picturing Bob nursing a hangover for his Bellamy voice. Who knew alcohol could produce such beautiful results?

Do I detect a hint of wavering? I think I do. He knows Wells is right. Wise, even. He’s in too deep of this persona he thinks is crucial for his and Octavia’s protection to turn back now.

After years of watching the Bellamy we know and love, Baby!Bellamy is so jarring to revisit.

As is Kane.

“And I choose at every turn and at any cost to make sure that the human race stays alive.” “That’s the difference between us, Kane. I choose to make sure that we deserve to stay alive.” If nothing else the pilot did, it established our roadmap of the series in these three sentences. These two objectives have guided this story at each turn in equal measure. For Jason to claim at the very end that this story was only ever governed by cold and ruthless survival is a lie. Those of us who paid attention know it. It’s documented from the very first episode how these characters endeavor - strive - to aim for higher than the impossible decisions and questionable morality they are cornered into. The right ending of this narrative was to allow to finally achieve their second guiding principle. Let them use the hard-won lessons they’ve learned to build a golden age from out of the post-apocalypse. Let them LIVE.

Oh, what glory that bastard robbed from us.

Also, how the turntables with Kabby from now to their conclusions.

As pragmatic as Clarke is, she’s a dreamer. She’s always had such a wonderful vision of how beautiful the world could be. And I hate how often Jason stole her hope from her.

I forgot what unencumbered delight looked like on Clarke’s face.

Strictly speaking, I can’t say I shipped Finn and Clarke. I was very determined on my first viewing to not get sentimentally entangled with ships, knowing my penchant for walking away from shows when ships sink. (Oh, the irony.) I wanted to like this series. As I said, I was intrigued by the Ark arc. I was in it to see how things go. What I can say is I didn’t mind Finn and Clarke, as chosen apathy goes. Maybe a spark of ambivalence here and there before Raven shows up.

It’s disorienting to remember the Clarke so open to falling in love. Her primary directives are safety and obtaining the imperative amenities the kids need. But on a personal scale, after their immediate crises are solved, this Clarke wants to live.

“Now, you all think I’m a bad guy, but I’m the only one willing to do what it takes to save us.” Season 1 and Season 3 Bellamy will also believe the same, and time will humble both of these men.

“...and if I have to take us to a cosmic Adam and Eve, I will do it.” Serious nomon and nontu imagery whizzing through my brain of the various pairs symbolizing them. Kabby. Marper, paving the path for Book Two: “Everyone dies. Let’s show them how to live.” Bellarke, as nomon/nontu in its final form, representative of all the narrative’s themes. The story has always been, on some level, how their union saves the world.  

Even Russell and Simone, as the versions that Bellamy and Clarke could have been if they were without a moral compass.

Nomon/Nontu is a legacy, spanning generations and centuries, intrinsically tied to the fate of humanity and the Earth. Add it to the extensive list of themes forgotten by the outlier nameless season.

I should have realized the first time around how there was more to Bellamy than meets the eye when he didn’t kill Wells. Certainly would have been easier for him in terms of divesting himself of a political rival.

Speaking of, Kane must know how valuable a resource Abby is to the Ark, especially now when their home is dying a slow death. Was civil obedience really more vital to the sustainability of this place than what Abby could provide? It’s a big, fat no. Then again, these are the people who killed the engineer to their life support systems.

Well, at least one of them has sense.

We’re in agreement that the pilot episode is cheesy as hell. Exactly in the wheelhouse of 2010s!Me. It was perfect. Oh, what? Did you think I wasn’t going to let the next episode play, right there on the dining table in 2015? Jasper’s just got speared through the chest!!! They’re not alone!!!

Tagging the brilliant @sometimesrosy​ for revitalizing this beloved show for me from the depths

[ryukscumslutt]

Part I — Aphrodisiac.

Joel Miller x F! Reader.

“I should leave before your wife gets here.”

Chapter Summary— An unexpected affair.

Rating- M (for now.)

Warnings: Angst, heavy cursing, dark subjects, alcohol usage (not here but possibly upcoming releases tied to this.)

Age gap, (reader is 24, and Joel is 52.) Joel is a successful contractor in this universe, living an incredibly comfortable life. Sarah is in the picture but she is off in college— and yes, he’s married. He constantly reflects on his innapropiate behavior but is too selfish to let go, his wife is perfect— but as always, men go astray when they have it too good.

Small A/N— hi everyone! I just wanted to introduce myself as this is the first time I am properly posting my work on here. I hope everyone enjoys this! Expect more to come from this, I’m in so much awe because I am surrounded by so many great talented writers?? Like how can I compete?? Lmao. It’s a bit intimidating. Anyways, thanks for being here. Enjoy. Xoxox.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Run, run, run..

You hurried, your pace clumsy, almost a bit too erratic for comfort. The lights behind the flashing curtains and muffled music made your chest feel uneasy, an uncomfortable churning in your stomach and fluttering in your chest. The tight bedazzled revealing outfit clung and bit into your skin, it was as if the sequins were taunting you. "You're up next!" The stage director placed you on the props marked for your performance. Nodding nervously, you gave everyone a thumbs up while grinning anxiously.

This was your big opening introduction into the burlesque scene in one of the biggest clubs of New York City. You had landed it by chance— luck— or even if one could call it destiny, it was a bit silly and juvenile to call it that. Although you genuinely didn’t care what entity had looked down upon you, but you had scored it. It always felt as if the universe was always conspiring against you.

With a shaky breath, your hands found their way up to your hair, smoothing out any lose baby hairs. You had to look perfect, you had to be perfect.. Slowly, you took your place with a large white feathery boa snaked around your statuesque frame. "Ladies and gentlemen— the newest addition to Rosewood Theatre, Belladonna!”

The large vintage curtains lifted up with a swift woosh. A soft glowing pink and yellow spot light shining down on her.

Raising your eyes up to the crowd flashing a smile, winking softly as the claps and cheers died down. The sound of the live jazz band overtook the theatre, it was rich. Your movements were calculated but fluid, the swaying of your hips seductive. As your eyes ventured into the crowd, from the bar— they met his.

The rest was history from there.

༺═──────────────═༻

6 months later.

The other woman.

“Always the bridesmaid, never the wife.”

"I didn't intend for things to turn out this way." Joel knew this was going to happen eventually, the instant he laid eyes on her that night. He knew something was bound to happen if he let it happen. And it did. "Well— shit happens." You let out a shaky breath, eyes casted away from his hurt gaze. You were just as hurt, but you wouldn't dare show any signs of vulnerability. It would be an open invitation for him to hug you, touch you— kiss you one last time. "All of this was for fun, and nothing ever lasts so— yeah." Your eyes fell to his wedding band. He had never worn it around you. Who would’ve known? Clearly not you.

The tears brewing glossed over your eyes, you couldn’t look at him. You had to find somewhere to stare at. A few pigeons flying by caught your eye. They looked so free. The large windows to the condo were peppered in falling rain drops. Blinking away softly, you drew in a breath before nodding to yourself. “I should go before your wife gets here.” The silence had finally been interrupted. Grabbing your thin coat from his bed, your feet made a beeline straight for the front door. You didn’t want your walking too look too scattered, too eager to get out. You didn’t want to be chased. But you so desperately wanted him to follow.

Don’t let me go.. don’t let me go.

"Wait—" Joel called out as you left the room. You could feel the pool of tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Before he could reach you, the front door slammed loudly. Your eyes were locked in on the elevator down the luxurious hall. Reaching it, your fingers frantically slammed down on the elevator button, she looked back and noticed him speed walking toward you. It didn’t look stupid, it looked like a desperate attempt to keep you. “Fuck.” You whispered, wiping your eyes quickly. Smearing your eyeliner and mascara in the process. The elevator doors finally slid apart slowly.

Too slowly.

Pushing your way inside before they opened all the way, you turned to the floor button panel and hit the button to close the door a few times. It felt like a race against time. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You neck and ears hot. Just as the doors were about to close, his large hand and arm broke through the small opening. The smallest crack. What would have happened if the doors had shut in time? Would things have ended differently? Your shoulders dropped in defeat. The tears you had desperately fought against, began spilling like a burst pipe. “Don’t go.” Joel pulled you in, his gruff voice muffled into the crook of your neck. The teardrops streamed down your temples, down your jaw. It felt like you were swallowing shards of glass. Your lips trembled.

Shaking your head, you pushed him off. The smell of his cologne and cigarettes mixed with your cinnamon perfume. You remembered the first time your scents clashed together. It was enough to rip his clothes off. But now, you felt like throwing up. You felt frozen. You felt cold.

"I can't do this." Pulling a compact mirror from your purse along with a wet wipe, you delicately cleaned your smeared makeup up in order to not look insane once the doors opened for the lobby. As you did so, your phone began to ring. You could feel Joel staring at you. He was frozen, his large hands had found their way into the pockets of his denim jeans that hugged his torso deliciously. Even then, you couldn’t help but think of him that way. Even though he had just shattered your heart on the rainiest day of the year.

Your ringing phone was the perfect distraction. You thanked the caller in your head.

Stuffing the items into your purse and pulling your phone out you exhaled while straightening out your posture. Ignoring the man next to you. Silently you answered the call. It was your therapist confirming their appointment for the evening. Slowly, the elevator doors opened to the main floor. Glancing up, you looked at a woman who smiled big at Joel. She had a bag hanging softly on her shoulder and dragged an expensive suitcase behind herself. You didn’t stare at Joel. The ring on her hand already confirmed who she was. “Honey— I didn’t expect you here s’soon..”

"I wanted to surprise my husband!" She beamed.

You could feel the world shattering beneath your feet. It was like if someone had just walked by and pulled the rug from beneath your feet. Your knees and hands had finally made contact with the rough surface. Taking a shaky breath she forced a smile into the phone. “Oh yes— I’ll be there.. thank you.” Holding the phone up to your ear you ignored the interaction in front of you and softly excused yourself with a small voice before walking out and hurrying along the lobby. It was your grand escape. All you had to do was look normal.

Act natural. Look normal. Don’t cry.

As much as it hurt to leave without closure. No closure is some sort of closure regardless. You could feel Joel’s gaze burning holes into your back as you hurried out of the building, past the exit. Softly you thanked the door man and flagged down a cab while shielding your eyes from the rain. You disappeared just as quickly as you arrived.

Settling into the back seat of the taxi. You finally sat with the creeping looming sadness. Your eyes desperately wanted to look back at the building. You wanted to see Joel running after you. Staring up. The elevator was already shut. Joel was nowhere in sight as the cab driver pulled into the busy street. The building faded out of view. Looking down at the phone in your hands, your fingers found their way to your best friends contact. Weakly typing.

3:35pm

I have been sleeping with a married man— and didn't know it. I feel like such a fucking idiot. His wife showed up.

Delivered

Muting your phone and shoving it into your purse, you finally acknowledge the driver who had been glancing back at you. "Please take me to Ninth avenue." He nodded in silence. Sinking into the seat, you fiddled with your fingers before turning to look back outside. Everything became blurry.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"So." Your therapist stared at you. It was an expression that you couldn’t read. “He was a married man?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#joelmillerxreader #joelmillerxyou #joelmillerfanfiction #joelmilleroneshot #joelmillersmut #joelmillerangst #joelmillerxy/n

#joelmillerfanfic #tlou #pedropascal #pedropascalcharacters #poetic

[liverobinreaction]

Chum Liveblog - Chapter 1

So i already read this chapter but will read it again bc it fucks. Go read Chum by @reachartwork if you like baby superheroes with weird powers. Mute the tag #chum liveblog if you arent interested! I might also move this to my main @bugbeee if people prefer that

1) the writing style draws me in immediately since the way the narrator (Sam) thinks and talks is so very reminiscent of my own adhd riddled brain. The way she notices one thing before immediately moving to the next detail is just. Chefs kiss

2) the tapa tapa tapa does something to my hindbrain. Like literary asmr.

3) god Sam's awkwardness and hesitance about her accident combined with her bluntness is so fucking good

4) SHARK TEETH SHARK TEETH SHARK TEETH

5) SHARK TEETH WITH DRAWBACKS HOT DAMN

6) “I didn’t get any gills though, which would’ve been cool. I can’t breathe underwater. But I think I can swallow salt water, but that’s kind of a sh- kind of a poopy superpower so you don’t need to write that one down. Don’t write that one down, please?” I would die for you Sam

7) god the author is so good at writing the livewire nervousness that accompanies the MC. Like the little details of bouncing knees and flexing hands that she grabs to stop, the tapping and moving- i love you so much for this

8) her mom taught her the word austere :)

9) ohhh she's got those bruce the shark powers (sniffing blood)

10) god her asking if the officer needs her friends contact numbers like the fbi shes just a KID

11) ohoho JLUMA??? desperate to know the acronym meaning for that. Its something shes applied for and its a license so hmmm [thinky face]

12) the way she gets annoyed over her parents gushing over her its so teenager i love her. Also she did so good at her bat mitzvah :)

13) "Once I get my license, does that mean I can go out and start biting people? Not that I plan to do that, I’m just wondering.” Yeah does she know i would die for her???

14) sam says acab fuck yeah

15) Officer Gold shrugs his shoulders and opens the front door, clearly also trying to escape the situation like I am. “Well, who knows. A supe just got elected to City Council. Maybe you’ll be the first superhuman senator if you stay in school and focus on your studies?” Oh that is a fucking gorgeous piece of foreshadowing/world building. Frothing at the mouth rn

16) THE CATEGORIES time to toss the worm categories out of my brain

17) breakdown of her powers a la government dossier! God its fascinating to see how its classified and seen in this world

18) AND WE HAVE AN ACRONYM MEANING 'Juvenile License to Utilize Metahuman Abilities' holy shit theres so much unsaid in that. When did it come about, how, whats its scope (which was briefly touched upon) etc. i cannot WAIT

19) bad dream/flashback? Its written so well and sams commentary of it feels real. "The situation is fucked beyond repair. I think I’m allowed to say that now."

20) oh my fucking god. "I hope I don’t die right now, because thinking about my parents being sad at my funeral makes me sad, but also, I hope I do die, because if I have to live one more second with this kind of pain I’m going to kill myself, myself." Author. Author. Who gave you the RIGHT to hit me like that

21) her realisation about why shes in so much pain, seeing her grandpa screaming through the water, the fishing metaphors- aughhhhhhhh

22) god i love the continued mention of words her mom has taught her its just. So fucking real of her

Conclusion: holy fucking shit what an absolute BANGER of a first chapter. I am hooked. I am printing this out and eating it. Thank you author for writing this, I will read more tomorrow

[tvrningon]

❛  you’re  going  to  leave  a  mark -  ❜ // for kyojuro maybee hehe

the enormity of my desire | @vonerde is kissed by kyo!

if he's honest, he doesn't have much experience with this sort of thing.

his years have been preoccupied with a little brother in need of support and a father in need of help; with studying and training flame breathing without his father's aid; with protecting the flames of those who could shine so brightly if only they had the chance. there hasn't been much time for the things he wants. there hasn't been much time to contemplate it, even ( or so he says, overlooking the nights when he couldn't sleep, mind wandering ).

so if kyojuro is being honest, he doesn't know much about things like kissing, but what he doesn't know, he certainly makes up for with enthusiasm. he'd like to think that, at least.

the way gaia sighs against his lips reassures him, soothes his nerves, coaxes a smile from the flame pillar. sweet, he thinks, growing bold enough to trail kisses along her jaw and neck. the deity breathes his name, leaning into his touch, and all he can think about is hearing it again. she sounds even sweeter than she tastes -- it's intoxicating.

fingers curl into his hair as he nips and sucks at the crook of her neck, gently tugging and drawing a moan from kyojuro. that's new, but gaia doesn't seem to mind. a little breathless, she tells him, " you're going to leave a mark. "

the flame pillar stops immediately, though he doesn't allow distance between them. instead he cradles gaia's face in his hands, pressing another, softer kiss upon plush lips. " i hope i didn't hurt you. " he rests his forehead against hers and smiles despite the embarrassed hue of red that colors his cheeks ( it's like the warm glow of a fire, the way he looks at her ). " if i do anything wrong, or i can do something better, tell me! that might sound juvenile of me to ask, but... " his thumb brushes across gaia's bottom lip, and kyojuro stares at the pleasant curve of her mouth before meeting her gaze once more.

" i want you to feel good. "

[tea-for-you]

“What happened to your face?” “I called Inukashi fat.” “Really,” Shion’s voice was flatly unconvinced, and he touched the red cheek with the back of his fingers. “There might also have been some veiled comments about parenthood.” “I’m not even going to try and reason that one.” “Don’t worry, we didn’t let your mama see.” He reached up to take Shion’s hand, and tightened his grip when Shion started to pull back. Once upon a time, Shion had made a half-sensible, strange confession. Nezumi’s reply had been to mock him for it, part amused by Shion’s silly crush, part annoyed by the dumb way he chose to phrase it, and a part of him had lit up, a part of him that he firmly told that this juvenile bullshit was something for which his life had no place. I’m drawn to you, Shion had said, yet the only thing that ever came out of it was a cowardly, hateful kiss that meant nothing of the sort. But Shion was letting him hold his hand, and that tiny act had long since said everything he was trying to put into words. It was one thing to make fun of a confused boy who couldn’t tell that a girl was trying to confess to him before she spelled it out. Telling him that he was the closest thing you had to the things you didn’t think you’d ever get to have was a different burden entirely. A slice of cake and a knitted sweater might’ve been enough to seal the fate of a fugitive child, but that was, inescapably, not how it worked between adults. Shion had shifted his hand so that his thumb was free, and it was stroking Nezumi’s skin in light circles that echoed to the marrow of his bones.