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wholoveseggs · 10 months

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~♡~Dating the Mikaelsons~♡~

Klaus, Kol, Marcel and Elijah ❤ if you are a Finn fan, sorry. But I'm not.

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

This is just some headcanons on what I think dating & sex would be like with the Mikaelson men.

Warnings: Description's of sex, kinks & dirty phrases.

One-shot editions:

{Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

Klaus {Hybrids First!}

❤--Klaus is an unrepentant charmer and flirt, and will not be shy about pursuing you, but he will make it clear if he's after more than just sex.

❤--He has a way with words, and will say the most romantic things to you. I like to think he hung around with Shakespeare, so his poetry skills are insane. Like, he will casually say something about your beauty or personality, and you will still be thinking about it when you are in the nursing home.

❤--He's an artist, so he will love the way your body looks and will love drawing or painting you naked. He will have a secret place for his sketches of you, where only the two of you can see. He will create new paint colors to try and capture the color of your eyes. You will always find little folded up doodles he hides in your things, some romantic and some humorous.

❤--He's not one for pda, not because he thinks it's improper, like Elijah does. But because he's afraid his enemies will see him and use you against him. So in public, he's all about flirty glances and whispering something filthy in your ear. He has a way of making you feel seen and special, without making a scene.

❤--His ideal date is a long walk through the city, he will tell you countless stories of his conquests and past adventures, and will not shut up. But it's cute and will make you laugh, and you will find out more about him. He's less of a romantic than Elijah, but will still do sweet things. Like, he will surprise you with a trip somewhere just because, and he will always send you a bouquet of flowers.

❤--When it comes to sex he is a little more modern than Elijah and won't mind a more casual approach. He's fine with just having a quickie in the bathroom or against the wall, as long as you are both enjoying it. Out of all the Mikaelsons he is by far the roughest. He will pull your hair, slap your ass, bite, compel you, tie you up, etc. It's all consensual, and he would never actually hurt you. Klaus will absolutely eat your ass, and loves a good rimjob. He'll also love anal, and will be very vocal about his desires. He's also not against compelling you to cum over and over again until your legs are shaking and you can barely breath.

❤--Despite his roughness in bed he will never do anything degrading or shameful. If you want to experiment and try new things, he will not object. He's open minded and will indulge almost any fantasy, as long as you both feel comfortable. He will never force you to do anything, and will never call you names or belittle you.

❤--His favorite position is with you bent over something, with him fucking you from behind. This way, he can be in control and dominate you, while also allowing him to reach the perfect angle. He also loves to fuck while standing, and will often pick you up and fuck you against the wall, or against a table. He needs to feel in control and the way you cling to him is a huge turn on. He knows he's doing a good job when your nails dig into his back and when you scream his name. He loves dirty talk and is extremely good at it, he loves to whisper filthy things in your ear like:

~♡~ "Louder love,"

~♡~ "Fuck, you're so wet for me,"

~♡~ "You like when I do that, don't you?"

~♡~ "Don't be shy, sweetheart,"

~♡~ "So pretty and all mine,"

~♡~ "You feel so fucking good,"

❤--In terms of oral sex, he loves receiving it. He will demand that you get on your knees and suck him off, and will pull your hair as you do it. He will be very vocal, telling you how good it feels and will have a string of filthy praises falling from his lips, like:

~♡~ "Such a pretty mouth,"

~♡~ "Take all of it,"

~♡~ "Look at me when you're sucking my cock,"

~♡~ "Just like that, love,"

~♡~ "That's it. Swallow it all"

❤--He also loves to fuck your face, he will have a firm grip on your hair and will thrust into your mouth at a rough pace. He's not ashamed of the noises he makes, and will make sure that you're looking at him as he comes undone. He will make you gag, and he will love it. He will love the way your mascara runs and the tears that run down your cheeks. But he will only do this if you enjoy it. If you tell him no or show any signs of discomfort, he will stop immediately, and make up for it by making you cum.

❤--He loves to drink your blood and will often bite you during sex. It's not just the pleasure, but it's also a claim and a sign of possessiveness. He likes to mark his territory and show others that you are his, and only his.

❤--Because of his possessive nature, he will not be able to control himself when someone else flirts with you. He'll have his hands all over you, making it clear that you're his, and anyone else would be stupid to try and touch you. He's also paranoid, and will have a hard time leaving you alone. Fear of abandonment is a big issue with him, and he needs constant reassurance that you love him.

❤--Once you break down his walls, he becomes very sweet and vulnerable. He will hold you and tell you how much he loves you and how beautiful you are. He will be endlessly thoughtful, but can easily take offense if you don't respond to his affection as he expects. It will take a lot of work to earn his trust, but it's worth it.

❤--Being in a relationship with him would be eternally wild and passionate, but after a millennium of pain, abuse, and trauma, the slightest betrayal can set him off. He's a little obsessive and can have a short temper. He can also be extremely manipulative and will lie to you and use his powers of compulsion to get what he wants. But it's not malicious, it's mostly a defense mechanism, and once he trusts you, he will open up and not use compulsion anymore. But he can't help his temper, and if he ever loses control and hurts you, he will hate himself and be full of self-loathing. He will apologize and ask for your forgiveness, and will not stop trying until he's earned your trust back. But he is not one to be trifled with, and if you betray him again, he will kill you, no matter how much it will hurt him.

Kol {this is the superior version, sorry not sorry}

❤--Kol is the funniest of the siblings and will constantly be cracking jokes and making quips. But he is also very charming and will sweep you off your feet with his smooth lines and devilish smile. He's the wild child of the family, and doesn't care about societal conventions, so he will not hesitate to ask you for sex, or inappropriately touch you in public.

❤--But his wild nature doesn't mean he is disrespectful. He respects boundaries and won't push you further than you're comfortable with. He's the kind of guy who will ask to have a threesome, and then not be mad if you say no. He loves to tease and make fun of you, but will stop if he goes too far. He knows where the line is, and will never cross it.

❤--His ideal date would probably involve going to a concert and drinking. He likes clubs and parties, but not fancy events, like his brothers do. He would love for the two of you to get absolutely hammered and have an adventurous night out on the town. But he would make sure that you were safe and would never take advantage of you. And he would definitely have a witchy hangover cure to give you afterwards.

❤--He is surprisingly intelligent and loves to teach you new things, especially if it involves science or the supernatural. He also loves to learn, he would be thrilled if you took him out and showed him things about the modern world. I personally think he would be stoked about VR or space travel, anything that would feel like the combination of magic and science to him.

❤--When it comes to sex he comes off as kinky, but I think it's just an act and that he's secretly just a sweetie. Like Elijah, I think he loves to make his partner feel good, but can come off as selfish until you are in bed with him.

❤--His favorite position would be cowgirl, he would love the view and the feeling of you riding him. He's not really into control the way his brothers are, and would prefer to let his partner take the lead. He definitely loves to talk in bed, and would constantly praise and flatter you. He would make you laugh in the middle of sex, it would never be too intense, always light-hearted and fun.

Some playful things he would say:

~♡~ "I like it when a woman takes charge,"

~♡~ "Darling, are you getting tired already?"

~♡~ "You know, if you really want my attention, all you have to do is ask. I won't bite...hard"

~♡~ "I would never compel you, but please, sit on my face next,"

~♡~ "Oh, that was definitely not your G-Spot, darling,"

~♡~ "Don't make me spank you again, love,"

~♡~ "I could never grow tired of such a lovely view,"

~♡~ "It's adorable the way you get all flushed,"

~♡~ "I think you might just be the death of me, but that's okay, I've done it before,"

❤--He would love for you to sit on his face, he will do it for hours if you let him. He would joke about how this time around he would prefer to die in this position, and will happily spend all day between your legs. He would adore teasing you, making you beg and whine. But once he starts he will have a hard time controlling himself, so it doesn't last long.

❤--He doesn't like being bossed around, and would rather have a mutual and playful partnership. He's into experimentation and would love to try new things with you. He would be the kind of guy to wear a silly costume for a Halloween or roleplay thing, he would have fun doing it and would never let his partner feel uncomfortable. He's the least picky and the most likely to hook up with someone just for a one night stand.

❤--He's not super jealous, but would love it if you were. He loves attention and being the center of your world, and would constantly flirt with other people, just to get a reaction out of you. He wants you to make him feel important, and will do anything to keep your attention. He will have a hard time showing his emotions, and will avoid getting too deep or serious, but he does care about you. If you really need him, he will always be there for you, no matter what.

❤--Unlike the rest of his brothers, his loyalty is not tied to his family. He will follow you if you leave, and will always protect you, even if it goes against his siblings.

❤--The dark side to Kol is his bloodlust and impulsivity. He will not hesitate to hurt or kill someone if they piss him off, and will be a bit of a hothead. He will need to work on his temper, but if you are patient, it will be worth it. He's a lot like his brother Klaus in that he needs reassurance, but unlike him, Kol won't try and control you.

❤--Unlike Klaus and Elijah, I think Kol's method for dealing with someone threatening you, would be an absolute tongue lashing. He will be the king of passive aggression and will destroy someone's ego by just a few choice words. If they're lucky, he will leave them alive, but will make sure they won't bother you again.

Marcel {that smile ❤}

❤--Marcel would easily be the best boyfriend on this list, mostly because he has less trauma than his adopted family, but also because he is better at handling problems in his life. Charming, hot and a total sweetheart, he would treat you like royalty.

❤--A date with him in New Orleans would be the experience of a lifetime, yes Klaus may have founded the city, but Marcel knows its people. He would take you to secret spots that capture the city's culture and history in ways that even Klaus would have a hard time replicating. He is the perfect host and knows the ins and outs of every street and venue.

❤--Marcel would take you out on a dinner date, perhaps a cool house party, where he would introduce you to interesting people. He would make you feel special in a way that isn't flashy or arrogant. He knows that you deserve the world and he would treat you as such, but without going over the top and making it a huge spectacle. He's down to earth in that way, but it doesn't make his effort less special.

❤--He's not possessive in a way that feels threatening or suffocating, he loves and respects you. He is loyal and kind, he loves making people laugh and always finds the good in everyone, even those who are difficult to see the light in, such as his adoptive family. But if anyone were to treat you disrespectfully or hurt you he would kick their ass without hesitation.

❤--His greatest trait is his loyalty, he is loyal to those he loves and will not give up on them. He has an emotional maturity and intelligence that is not seen in many of the Mikaelsons and is good at dealing with his feelings. He has the devotion of Elijah, the intelligent ruthlessness of Klaus and the compassion of Rebekah, but he is far superior at balancing these traits in a healthy way, and has very few of their negative attributes.

❤--Marcel is a self proclaimed king and a little arrogant, but not in a way that makes him feel better than anyone else. He's earned it through sheer will and hard work, his ego comes from the respect and loyalty of his people.

❤--Marcel is the perfect mixture of flirt and charisma. He is a man with an easy smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He is suave and confident, but he isn't a pushover or someone who can't be serious. He knows how to be in the moment and have fun, and he's not afraid to love.

❤--Sex with Marcel would be very giving and sweet, even though he's a dominant person in general, he knows how to balance this with being respectful and caring to his lover. His favorite positions are cowgirl or missionary, as he loves the eye contact and he will never complain when you take charge. I don't think he's very kinky, and is mostly focused on pleasing his partner and making sure they get what they need.

❤--He is also a huge flirt who would go out of his way to make you blush and make your heart skip a beat. I imagine his words being playful and teasing, not necessarily filthy but certainly dirty in an innocent way.

Some examples would be:

~♡~ "If you wanna get to know each other a little better, I'm up for a more private session"

~♡~ "I love that outfit, but I bet it looks even better on the floor"

~♡~ "Hey beautiful, wanna grab a drink, and maybe I can get a taste of something sweeter later?"

~♡~ "Damn girl, you're hotter than New Orleans in August,"

❤--He's very honest in bed, he'll tell you exactly what he wants and how he wants it. He's also very touchy, his hands would be on your hips or back, always guiding or supporting you, but not holding you down, unless that is something you want, in which case he is absolutely into it.

❤--The downside to dating Marcel is that his loyalties can conflict and it may get complicated at times. He will choose his city and the people he protects over his own desires. It can make his partners feel rejected and betrayed. But he will be as understanding and respectful as he can, he will do everything he can to make things work.

Elijah {obviously this one is the longest lol}

❤--Like a character from a romance novel, he loves to kiss your hand, cheek and forehead. He does this thing where he cups the back of your neck before pulling you close for a kiss. This gesture is not always necessarily romantic, but it's subtly possessive, putting him in control of the situation.

❤--He loves taking care of you and spoiling you with gifts. Expensive luxury gifts are a common occurrence, but so are small thoughtful things, like your favorite drink, or a small trinket that he saw you admiring.

❤--Known for his iconic style, he loves to help you find the perfect outfit for any occasion. He loves the way you look in the dresses and skirts that show off your legs. He also loves to buy you jewelry to match said outfits and always notices when you do something different with your hair.

❤--He's not one to talk about himself or his interests, but with a little encouragement, he will tell you anything. He'll talk for hours about literature and music if given the chance, you love to see his face light up when he talks about the things he loves.

❤--He's not into casual dating or relationships, so once he's committed to someone, he is loyal and faithful. Most of his relationships are initiated by the woman, because he is too polite and respectful to make the first move. Unless, of course, they are giving him clear signals, then he will become the dominant and seductive man we all know and love.

❤--He's not a one night stand sort of guy, and will only sleep with someone if he really cares about them. He won't even consider the possibility of cheating, and will expect the same from you. If you are having trouble committing, or if there is another person you have feelings for, he will let you go and try to move on.

❤--He is a man of tradition, and will always treat you like a lady. He will open doors for you and pull out chairs, and will not hesitate to correct any guy that is a little too friendly with you. He is protective but not possessive.

❤--But just because he's traditional doesn't mean he doesn't love independence. It turns him on to see a woman fight back and be able to stand on her own. But sometimes his protective nature gets the best of him, and he will try to protect you when he feels like you're in danger, even if you are more than capable of handling the situation.

❤--He's not very vocal about his feelings, and probably won't be the one to confess that he cares. But he will definitely show you with his actions, and is very loyal. If you're upset, he will give you space, but if he feels like you're bottling up your feelings, he will encourage you to talk about it. Since he has lived for so long he has lots of wisdom and can offer advice and comfort. He has a tendency to be the level-headed one in any situation, but can be very emotional, which is a side of him only his closest friends and family get to see.

❤--He is a great kisser, and is very passionate. He can take charge and be rough and demanding, or be sweet and romantic, whatever you're into.

❤--Elijah is also the most experienced and well-versed lover out of all the Mikaelsons, and that is saying a lot. One thousand years of experience as well as always being selfless in all aspects of his life, will result in some insane sex. He will take his time with you, exploring every inch of your body and discovering all your sweet spots. He knows what he's doing, and he's going to make sure you enjoy it. He is very patient and can last a long time, and is the master of multiple orgasms. He will make sure that he is the only thing you're thinking about when he is inside you.

❤--Missionary is his favorite position. He loves being on top and watching your face as he pleasures you. He loves to praise you and whisper sweet things into your ear as he fucks you, and loves to be dominant. He loves seeing you underneath him, writhing and moaning as he hits all the right spots. He loves hearing your moans and gasps, and the sounds you make when he kisses your neck. He will give you the best orgasm of your life, and he will do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

❤--He loves oral sex, and you swear he might have popularized it during his travels in the middle ages. He will go down on you for hours, and will not stop until you're begging him to fuck you. He's very good at it, and will know exactly how to please you. You've never had a better orgasm than when he's eating you out, and he will make it his mission to give you as many as possible.

❤--He loves consent and will always ask before doing something new or different, he likes to make sure that you are always comfortable. He wants to hear your opinion and what you like, and will do anything to make sure that you are satisfied. As long as it's safe, and he knows you'll be enjoying yourself, he's not opposed to a little experimentation, but he doesn't really care for it either. He prefers vanilla sex, but he won't say no to anything.

❤--He is not used to others taking care of him, so he will likely try to deny his needs at first, not wanting to burden you. But once he realizes that you want to take care of him too, he will let his guard down. This level of trust from him is a precious thing, and it's a sign that he's falling in love.

❤--Once his walls are down, the kind of pleasure he loves to receive is intimacy. He will want to make love, not just have sex. He will want you to hold you and tell you that he loves you while making eye contact. He craves connection above all else, and will be very intense and passionate. He's too much of a gentleman to ask, but giving him oral sex will make him feel special, and because he hates messes, he prefers to come in your mouth.

❤--Although he may be the most vanilla and gentle lover out of the Mikaelsons, don't let that fool you, because once he lets his walls down, he is an animal. He will pound you into the mattress, and won't stop until he makes you cum so hard that you see stars. He loves to praise you and tells you how good you're making him feel, and loves to watch you come undone.

He'll say things like:

~♡~ "You look so beautiful like this"

~♡~ "I love the the pretty little sounds you make"

~♡~ "Tell me what you want,"

~♡~ "Look at me"

~♡~ "You feel so good"

~♡~ “I love the way you come undone”

❤--He's not very into public sex, but he has a thing for making you come on his fingers. He will find a quiet corner and fuck you with his hand, making you cover your mouth to keep from getting caught. He loves to look you in the eyes as he does it, asking you:

~♡~ "You like when I touch you like this?"

~♡~ "You have to be quiet, my love,"

~♡~ "Do you want more?"

~♡~ "That's it, just like that,”

❤--Elijah won't want to bite or compel you, but if you desire him to drink from you, he will, and will do it carefully and respectfully. He prefers to drink from your neck, gently cupping it the same way he does when he's pulling you in for a kiss. He will not be rough, and will take care not to hurt you. He will always heal the marks with his blood after, and will feel guilty if he draws too much blood.

❤--His aftercare is unmatched, and he will make sure that you are taken care of and pampered after. He will prepare a hot bath or shower, making sure you feel comfortable and loved.

❤--But this level of intense love and devotion has a dark side. If you are threatened or harmed by his enemies, there will be no holding him back. He will show no mercy and will not rest until he has made them pay. He is by far the most vicious in his family, and will go scorched earth on anyone who harms his loved ones. And he will do it with frighteningly calm precision, showing no remorse.

Finn whoops

☢--Finn and you can take a long nap together. Then you can hear him endlessly complain about his self-righteous bullshit, until you realize you made a huge mistake and you leave him.

{Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

Thanks for reading! I swear I tried to make it short....

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knavesflames · 5 months

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part 2 of arlecchino tying us up and eating us out? :3

Hehe sorry it was so late! I’ve been trying to get through some asks!

Part one is here!

Contents: strap on, reader is still tied up with the lace, praise, reader has cat ears 🫨

Word count: 1369

Nsft utc:)

Panting as you stare at the ceiling, your body trembling and the pink lace digging into your skin, you listen as Arlecchino rises from her position, kissing back up your body. This time, the kisses are urgent, almost aggressive as they travel up your stomach, across your breasts and around the soft part of your neck where your shoulder and neck meet. She listens to your breathing, already ragged from your previous orgasm and the anticipation of the fact she isn’t finished with you. Her hand reaches underneath your chin, tilting your head to look into her dark, dark eyes. Her face is stoic, almost blank, but the arousal she’s so good at hiding is very clear, especially in addition to her slightly louder breathing. Her lips meet yours, tongue grazing your bottom lip, and then dancing with your own, fighting for dominance, though, it’s not really a fight. With you naked and your wrists tied, mind hazy from the orgasm you just had, it’s clear she’d win. Then again, she’d win anyday. Arlecchino’s lips part from yours, thumb wiping the saliva that gathers in the corner of your mouth before she moves from the bed. She rummages in that drawer, the one always kept locked, the bottom drawer of her dresser with a selection of her favourite objects and toys she can use to draw out noises and orgasms out of you every time.

You realise, despite her acting cruel, she’s giving you just a little bit of time to gather your breath, for your body to calm down. She could have been back over to you already, but she’s waiting, taking her time. Either that, or she’s just incredibly indecisive today. By the time your breath has finally regulated, the familiar footfalls are getting closer to you again. They stop right next to you, and your eyes open to her face, this time with a hint of a smirk on her face. Your eyes travel towards her hands and your eyes narrow in slight confusion. Her hands, with her pointed nails (filed down just for you, of course), held multiple items, all of which are about to be used without complaint (unless you want to be punished today). Her hands move above your head, placing the cutest little headband on your head. A white headband with the cutest little kitten ears placed on, originally a Halloween accessory from long ago, kept for times like these. It started when you dressed up as a kitten for Halloween one year, and the outfit you wore drove her insane, and the night ended up with you being fucked against the wall, the little bell on your collar jingling with every thrust and movement.

Since then, the bell has been engraved with a simple ‘M’, done by Arlecchino’s own nails. She says it stands for ‘mine’, and you can only trust her word for it. Obedient as you are, you lift your head for her, letting her put the pretty collar around your neck.

“Good.”

Arlecchino knows you relish in the praise you get from her, no matter if it’s her picking you up and spinning you around after a good exam result (which she’s done, though refuses to admit she has), or a simply “good” when you do something she tells you to do, so she’s sure to pepper lots of praise in just to see you melt every time. It’s a weakness of hers, your fucked out grin or the way your pussy flutters around her strap every single time. Said strap is quickly and expertly attached to her, her favourite one. Long and slightly angled to hit the spot you love so much, a light pink colour, picked by you, one of the things she allowed you to pick out when she bought it. You struggle to hide the way your eyes light up in delight at the sight of it, your wrists once again straining against the pink lace she tied around them at the beginning.

“Arlie, please.”

“Be quiet, kitty.”

The nickname alone shuts you up completely, stealing the breath from your throat, and she knows it too. The bed shifts under her weight as her hands pry your thighs open, though they don’t need much prying. She could look at you and you’d spread as far as you could get them. She gives a nod of approval, the slightest smile appearing on her face before it quickly disappears. Her hand moves to grip back of your head, bringing you closer to stare into your eyes, to watch your face as she slides into you. You can smell yourself on her breath, and it isnt like either of you care. You lock eyes, but yours flutter closed as you let out a sharp puff of air when you feel the silicone material against your entrance. She takes a fistful of you hair, tugging it to get your attention, and it does. You gasp, and your eyes fly open.

“Look at me, or I won’t do this at all.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry, what?”

You gulp. She seems to be playing this game tonight. It’s your fault for teasing her all week anyway, and you should be glad you aren’t bent over her lap counting spanks, or on your sixth orgasm, which you very well could be by now.

“Sorry, mommy, I—“

Your voice is swept away by a push of her hips as the strap slides inside of you with ease, a lewd wet sound echoing in the room. One of Arlecchino’s favourite things is to slide into you while you’re speaking, to listen to the way your voice goes from speaking to quiet whines.

“Good girl.”

Your arms strain against the lace again as you try to clutch at her, the bell on your collar jingling with every movement the two of you make. The jingles are music to Arlecchino’s ears, and she whispers soft praises against the shell of your ear, her smooth velvety voice driving you insane.

“Stay still, kitty. You’re so desperate today.”

“I think—“

“Not yet.”

“Please.”

Her hand moves from your hair to slide a finger under the collar wrapped around your neck, creating a small bit of pressure around your neck before she speaks again, panting through each thrust.

“You have been bothering me all week, and now you get what you want and you want it to be over so quickly? My pretty slut.”

You whimper in response, but you stay quiet for the next five minutes, listening to her grunts, the bell jingling and your incessant breathy whines. The lace restraints around your wrists finally break (they are lace, after all, they were never very strong), and you waste no time in clawing and clutching at her to bring her closer, burying your head into the crook of her shoulder as your nails claw at her back. When your legs begin to tremble again, and tears beginning to gather in your eyes, a clear sign of another incoming climax, she takes pity on you, giving your cheek a stroke with her thumb.

“Cum for me, kitty.”

She gets only the first syllable out before your pussy is fluttering around her strap, your body arching and twitching as your eyes roll back and close. She keeps thrusting through the climax before coming to a stop when you tap her thrice, your silent signal that you’re done. Still stoic, yet softer, she gently rubs your wrist, soothing where the lace had rubbed against it.

“Are you fine?”

“Yes.”

You pull her down, trapping her in a cuddle that she’s more than happy to take part in, both of you breathing heavily. The hint of a loving smile ghosts her face as her fingers come up and adjust the cat ears, setting them properly back on your head before she whispers.

“Pretty.”

You’re too breathless to speak, so you only poke her in response before your body begins relaxing, and you feel your eyes drift closed, feeling a hand run through the ends of your hair as she whispers sweet nothings to help you along in your slumber. Though, as soon as you’re ready, you’ll be going again. You know that much.

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blacknedsoul-blog · 11 months

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My bet on what Annabel wanted to do and why

So I'm reading the mansion arc again because the hiatus is over and that scene is coming back to me.

Now I have a whole theory as to why Annabel did what she did and for what. One of those "all or nothing" ones, but I thought it was interesting to share anyway.

The Background

The first thing to keep in mind is Annabel's role within her group: she's there to get information and to see herself as someone competent and worth following, but also as an agent of chaos in the shadows, actively trying to get them to fight each other (put a pin in that, because it's going to be important).

The whole scene where Montresor makes Ada bark introduces us to this guy, not as just any bully, but as someone extremely sadistic. While Annabel manages to get him to back down in the end, this makes it clear to her that he's a problem she needs to solve by yesterday, because, as if his sadism weren't enough, he's uncomfortably interested in Lenore.

The Amontillado

So she decides to take the first step to satisfy Montresor's thirst for blood by throwing someone under the bus, and unfortunately Duke is the most logical choice: Berenice and Eulalie share a room, Morella can manifest, and although Prospero is not Pluto's friend, he won't get involved in this kind of shady business. Duke, on the other hand, is an easy prey: he cannot manifest and shares a room with Montresor. It's all advantages.

But Annabel can't allow Montresor to commit murder outright. Not that she gives a shit about Duke's life, but if this guy finds out he can murder people in school, it's pretty certain that it will be impossible to push him back. Next it will be her, or worse, Lenore.

It's hard to tell if she suggested putting him behind a wall or just told Montresor, "Why get your hands dirty? I know you can be more creative." Either way, she's doing it to buy time: again, there's no upside to Duke dying, but maybe she can twist this in her favor somehow. And she needs to do it fast.

The Pendulum

The answer comes to her as if it fell from the sky with the pendulum, which is on the table as an object to be chosen during the test, and the stroke of luck is that it is Lenore who chooses it. So she keeps it: this was the piece she needed to turn the situation around.

Annabel knows where Duke is. And maybe our friend isn't far away either (there were five people moving through guarded corridors, one of them unconscious), so it's enough to get to where he is, break through the wall, and leave the pendulum aside so Duke can find his way back to school or join his friends more easily. After all, he'll have Pluto looking for him like crazy, and it would be absurd for him not to use his spectre for that. And if these people don't manage to hit the right spot, she has already discovered the pendulum's range during the test, she could do it herself without arousing suspicion.

The test is over. The Misfits get more and more desperate, Lenore is taken to Dreamland and Ada manifests only to fall into Montresor's arms. All of this actually suits her quite well, for one specific reason: Annabel wants to put a target on Montresor's back and make him doubt his "trusted" people.

Will's spectre can copy people's appearance, while Ada shared a team with Lenore during the test. Both could have stolen it. At the very moment Montresor discovers that the pendulum was used to save this guy, there will be doubt as to which of these two (whom he thinks he has in the palm of his hand) betrayed him. After all, they both seemed pretty uncomfortable with the situation.

Suspicious of Annabel? That was the look on her face as Duke desperately begged her to stop them.

Speaking of Duke, after he tells the rest of his friends what happened, Montresor would be an immediate target to confront…just like Annabel. But hey, "protect me from your allies and I'll protect you from mine," Lenore will avoid getting her guts ripped out (right?).

Maybe she found out she couldn't manifest after the test, so she left it until the next day. In this image, we are told that Annabel gets up ridiculously early, which is quite possible without anyone seeing her.

And while Pluto mentions that he still can't manifest again, let's remember that Annabel has a little more control over her spectre than he does.

Parenthesis: on the Widow Watch

The question here is: if this idiot had it all figured out and swears her wife is okay with all this crap, why not tell Lenore?

My answer is summarized in this picture:

Annabel is a long-term player, this girl doesn't care about Duke's safety, and his life only seems relevant to her because his death doesn't benefit her. She doesn't care about saving him, she cares about how saving him will distract Montresor from Lenore and allow her to take the first steps to get rid of him.

If Lenore runs off to save Duke (something Annabel thinks she will do out of guilt), the only thing she will accomplish is to make Montresor even more fixated on her and possibly blow Annabel's cover: it would be strange if they could suddenly find him easily without anyone telling them.

Another thing to consider is that Lenore arrives at the Widow's Watch in this state:

She may not have been able to see what happened to Montresor from up there because of how surprised she is, but Lenore's clothes are burned, and it doesn't take a genius to know who inflicted at least some of those wounds on her. All the more reason to try to keep Lenore out of this situation until the time is right.

House of Cards

One thing I really love about Annabel is that while many of the things she plans make sense, and indeed several of her predictions come true (such as the students not being able to manifest themselves by approaching Lenore), to quote her, she is not a mind reader. And watching her machinations unravel because of things she can't control is not only plausible, it's really interesting.

Especially when Lenore is the cause. Immovable object meets unstoppable force, and until they get their act together, this is doomed.

And disaster has arrived at that very moment.

The first thing that disarmed Annabel at this point, in my opinion, is that Lenore knew what she had done to Duke before she should have: without knowing her intentions, this looks like a completely deliberate and cold-bloodedly planned simple murder attempt. Annabel was confident that Lenore would understand as soon as she saw the pendulum, either as "I got our enemy off your back for now, but he won't stop" or, if I'm wrong and this woman has some self-awareness, as "I found no other way to get our enemy off your back, but I did everything I could to keep this man safe".

While the jokes about Annabel being a masochist are hilarious, on a serious note, I think it's appropriate to note that his complete failure to see how angry Lenore is is because she's never seen her this angry. Or worse, she's never seen her so angry at her. And she knows what Lenore is capable of in that state.

As if that weren't bad enough, her predictions were that Lenore would run to find Duke, but instead this woman picked up a revolver and walked right into the lion's den.

In other words, Annabel has not only failed catastrophically to keep Lenore away from Montresor, she has prompted her into a direct confrontation.

Everything she thinks she knows about her has just gone to hell.

The fallen queen

One last thing I think is interesting about the situation Annabel is in right now is that there is a threat she has no idea about. Annabel was counting on Lenore to protect her from her allies, but…

If Montresor has eyes, he knows. That means he only has to add 2+2 to see through Annabel's little games.

And the one person who could have protected her right now has no interest in what happens to her.

Hiatus over, people. I hope you're as anxious as I am.

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #annabel lee nevermore #white raven #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #I love to see how everything goes wrong for characters that are 4 parallel universes above you #It makes them feel so human #If this woman doesn't die #it's more luck than talent #nevermore theory

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precious-little-scoundrel · 16 days

Note

I literally read whatever you write but I would kill for a genderbent mailorder AU with fem!gale. I think you’d write it so well and it’d be so interesting to see you tackle that concept.

Runner up is fem!OC, I just know Bucky would make her fall for him in no time flat. 💛

This is so sweet of you because I have these fool brained ideas that seize me so strongly I don’t know what to do with myself and I wanna share them but i never know if j can follow through and make it something to share, ha. So anyways, thanks for encouraging me and I can say I’m very obsessed and devoted to the notion of genderbent Gail Cleven because she’d make such a fascinating lady?! And John Egan would be looking at all six foot, face of an angel, limbs of a boy and mind as stubborn as a mule’s and he’d be all “my magnificent unicorn” 🤩 here, have a small sneak peak:

Mail Order Bride AU 🪺 || Genderbent Clegan

It’s with clear eyed rage and only the smallest tremor of her long boned hand that Gail Cleven picks up the detestable advert of three weeks gone from the kitchen table and gives the now memorized words a solemn read through.

“Wanted, wife. Of amiable disposition, not afraid of solitude, capable of shooting a firearm or willing to learn. Will be kept in comfort and treated respectfully as God intended. Klondike territory, cabin already built, stream nearby, gold vein found and mining in progress, two hundred acres of unseeded acreage. Major Bucky Egan, advertiser.”

It was the last line that infuriated Gail. Well, the second to last -she had no objection to the signer’s name. It was the Two Hundred Acres that some oaf of a gold digger wasn’t putting to any use. Gail would have that place baled and sold for hay in a month's time then plowed and sown in three. Four tops. Harvest in seven. Profit in seven and two weeks. She wasn’t sure why she cared so much but the pounding jealousy of such waste competed with the pounding in her bruised cheek and as she looked at the scorned advertisement this one last time, for she knew then, that it would be the last.

For she would leave this newsprint on the kitchen table and she would leave this kitchen and it’s peeling paint and residue of meals she once labored for and over in a twisted sort of love and she would walk over that threshold and leave behind the kitchen and the table and the newspaper and her father’s house and she would go somewhere and make something of herself where she could tack on a couple hundred acres of wasted prairie as an afterthought. She just needed to go somewhere out of the country. And change her name.

#hey Marina #love notes #Buck x Bucky #clegan #blurbs #mota fanfic #mail order bride

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modern-gremlin · 4 months

Text

Rivals with Benefits | Lance SDV Expanded (FWB to Lovers) 🔞 PT. 1

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

PART 1/2

Summary: If it weren't for Marlon, you wouldn't have bothered to help Lance out with his research, especially not by the way he gets on your nerves. You tried to give him a piece of your mind, but you might have given bit more than you intended.

Pairing: Lance (SDV Expanded) x afab!reader Tags: Smut, kind-of-tsundere reader, Friends with Benefits situationship, detailed depictions of sex. NSFW Tags below the cut. Word Count: 7k (oops) A/N: I just kept getting ideas for a Lance Rival to FWB to lovers story line and now I’ve word vomited it all here. IMAGINE, I had the intention to make this whole thing around 2,000~3,000 words?! lmfao, a fool I am. Well, here's to Part One~ I've written it in the perspective of a foolhardy, tsundere-ish farmer who's been trying to work their way up as an apprentice to Marlon. They're such a little shit on the outside but a softy in the inside <3 They have no idea how down bad they are for Lance, but they find out soon enough. I had so much fun writing this one, hope you enjoy xoxo

NSFW Tags: dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, backshots

When you first met Lance, you couldn’t deny that you were a little more than curious about the "mystery man" who greeted you at the top of the Caldera. You were smitten, more like, but you wouldn’t dare admit that now. Lance has been getting under your skin ever since he’s been asked to join the Adventurer’s Guild. Marlon might think he's a reliable and experienced combat mage, but you see right through that façade.

He's more like an over-confident killjoy who thinks he knows everything, you think to yourself. He's always quick to make objections to your suggestions — "That seems rather risky, don't you think?" he says. "You should carry more medicine with you," he says. Please, as if you couldn't handle yourself in the mines. You've been down there countless of times; so what if you've come out very a little battered every now and then? For whatever reason, he seems to single you out the most out of all the adventurers who visit the guild. To make matters worse, he never seems bothered whenever you make verbal jabs at him. He always maintains that arrogant smirk on his face and pretends that you've won the argument. Screw him and his stupid handsome face.

Your rivalry with him is no secret to the rest of the guild — almost every meeting starts with a battle of wits between you two, until Marlon practically has to pull you two apart from one another. "Get a room, you two," Gil would often remark something of the like, just barely raising himself from his regular spot by the fireplace. You hate how Lance just chuckles under his breath as you try to explain to the old man how the tensions between you two are "strictly from annoyance". You definitely don't sneak glances at him when he's none the wiser, and surely you just "coincidentally" bump into him at least twice a week (as if he hadn't already given you his schedule.) He just gets on your nerves. That's all, isn't it?

That's certainly what you convince yourself until one day you're sent to the Highlands Outpost to help him with a special research initiative. You wouldn't have taken the job if Marlon hadn't been so insistent that you'd be a perfect fit for the task. It wouldn't be wise for an apprentice to reject their mentor's request when they point out their strengths, so begrudgingly you agree. There's a clear enclosure in your greenhouse set aside for Lance's "little experiment". Good thing you've made decent enough clearance around your fruit trees — these plants are almost vicious as the creatures that drop them. Some are poisonous, some emit a strange dark aura, one of them is just downright creepy. To say this project is completely unorthodox would be an understatement, but admittedly, you are intrigued by the monster crops and the arcane powers they might possess. It only comes with the minor grievance of having to report to Lance every so often; tending to these crops every morning does seem like a cruel daily reminder of your rivalry with him. But with the final monster fruit harvested and stored, your mission is finally about to come to an end. Placing each of the crops inside a burlap sack, you make the trip out to the Highlands.

Upon arrival at the outpost, you notice that there's no one in sight. Just the peaceful view of the cedar trees stretching to the top of the mountain side, occasionally lit by the blue flames Lance had decorated around the area. From this safe distance, the view from the Highlands is breathtaking in the late summer evening. If you hadn't known that these fields to be riddled with monsters galore, you'd bet this would be a pretty nice place to camp out for a while. The sun slowly dips below the horizon as you breathe in deep swaths of fresh air. Not a bad spot to be stationed to, you think to yourself. Sure, the valley is modestly beautiful too, but you do wonder why Lance had accepted a job there when his schedule already has him spread thin. Besides, the Highlands Outpost is quite scenic itself. You really can't complain for the extra help though — as much as you hate to admit it, he's been a valuable asset to the guild. Now with Lance, once again, entering your mind, you remember the purpose of your visit. Taking in a last few breaths of the evening breeze, you slowly make your way to the outpost tower door. Like always, you announce yourself the same way; three quick knocks against the wood and an "it's me" signals to Lance that is you, in fact, at the door. "Come in," he routinely answers.

Once you enter the room, you see Lance sitting at his desk. He's too busy scrawling notes in his journal to greet you just yet. The room echoes when he gently slaps his journal shut to turn his attention to you. You swear he keeps a list of things that piss you off in that little book of his, because it's like he knows just what to say to make your face turn into a cherry tomato. "Good evening, farmer," he greets you cheerily, "have you come to keep me company tonight?" The peace and tranquility from your nature walk quickly dissipates the moment he teases you. "Yeah, you wish," you remark with a sneer, "I've come to give you the last of these." Raising the burlap sack toward him, you gently place the crops on the desk in front of him. His mouth curls into a smile as you retrieve each plant from the bag and place them before him. "Wow, these are quite fascinating. Truly remarkable specimen," he says as he carefully examines the freshly-harvested monster crops, "I'm surprised, they're in such perfect condition-" He's surprised? Really? You've been tirelessly caring for these venomous, god-forsaken crops for weeks now. They've been taking up precious greenhouse space that could've been used for ancient fruit and yet, he still has the gall to tease you about it? "Hmph, you're 'surprised?' I thought you'd be smart enough to know I'd be your best bet in cultivating these crops," you scoff, turning away from his gaze in a meek attempt to hide your pouting face from him, "A 'thank you' would have sufficed." Sigh, what was I expecting? You curtly head towards the door with the job finally being done.

"Pardon me, I didn't mean any ill-will. I'm only surprised because I had thought it would be impossible to cultivate these kinds of seeds," he places a palm on his neck as he corrects himself, "I've tried several times with no success." This stops you from storming out of the outpost tower and he continues in response, "I truly am impressed. Marlon was right to entrust you with this task, thank you." His sincerity is almost believable, but you know better to believe his charismatic antics. You march back toward the desk he's seated in front of, readying a pointing finger toward him to confront his sweet-talking attitude. But this time, without Marlon to stop you, you're determined to let him have a piece of your mind. "You know what? Everyone thinks you're so eloquent and great. Oh but I see through that act of yours," you annoyedly remark, pressing your index to his chest. "What is it about me that you dislike so much, hm? You think just because you're some… good-looking, combat mage prodigy, you get to push me around? You've been nitpicking my every move for months now!" For a moment, Lance is at a loss for words. He just stares up at you with wide eyes, which causes heat to spread across your cheeks.

"Dislike? I know I enjoy a little bit of banter with you every so often, but dislike? Do I really give the impression that I dislike you?" he asks earnestly. You retract your finger and hesitantly take a step back. His question takes you by surprise; it never really occurred to you might have read his intentions wrong in the first place. But still, you're much too stubborn to give in now. "Y-yeah? I mean, you're always picking on me and never any of the other adventurers at the guild. If you don't dislike me, what gives?" You pray he didn't catch the shakiness in your voice, but if your trembling lips didn't give it away, the flush that's spreading from your cheeks to your ears quickly reveal how nervous you are. His familiar chuckle escapes from his lips and now he's looking at you with a playful grin. "It might be because you're always the most charming person in the room. In any room, if I'm honest."

Now he's done it. The blush on your face has gone from cherry tomato to actual-cherry-red. You can't even spew vitriol back at him to hide how giddy you actually are. It's like your heart is lodged in your throat and its beating prevents you from speaking. "I don't dislike you in the slightest. My apologies, I didn't realize I was coming across as harsh." His smile subtly switches from sly to warm, as if he's trying to convince you to believe him. "Pfft... me, charming? Th-that's hard to believe, considering how you've been targeting me since you arrived at the valley," you retort nervously, your eyes shifting away from his. Almost as if he knew you were trying to plan your escape, his next words glue you to the floor. "Perhaps I have been singling you out too much, but I promise I don't do it purposefully — I'm sorry. I admit I do enjoy teasing you, though. I've grown quite fond of that pout of yours, it's rather cute."

Ugh, no. This wasn't how this was supposed to go, you think. He wasn't supposed to have you speechless and red in the face. This isn't fair. You want to be furious but your heart is betraying you. It's clouding up your mind so much that you can't even stop the smile creeping on the corner of your lips. He's not making it much easier for your ego now either, because he's enjoying your bashful display a little too much for your liking. If only you could stop him from doing that thing; the thing where he chuckles and send butterflies rushing through your stomach. You just want to wipe that stupid, handsome smile off of his stupid, handsome face. And to both of your surprise, you actually do.

You don't even take time to consider your actions before you're catching his mouth onto yours. A deep, longing kiss — something you've secretly wanted since he first appeared in front of you. At first, he's rendered motionless from the shock, but soon you feel the heat rise onto his cheeks and he sinks into you. Your lips are even softer than he imagined and you never realized how intoxicatingly good he smells. It's only then when you realized what you've done; your mind is screaming at you to pull away but you can't. His mouth on yours is quelling the fire in your heart and besides, you couldn't move away even if you wanted to. You simply couldn't by the way his hands have trailed to your waist to pull you deeper into him. You, so badly, want to pretend like you hate this but it's like your whole body has given up and given in to how you truly feel: you are undeniably, foolishly, attracted to this man. Really, it's almost stupid how eager you are to be touched by him. At least one part of you is honest to your feelings. The only remnant of anger left in you is how mad you are at yourself for being bested by him, again. As always.

Then, it occurs to you: weren't you the one who pulled him into the kiss? Aren't you the one who's making him lose his usually composed demeanour and making him groan under his breath? You grin against his lips when it finally hits you: you are the one in control right now. He can tease you with words all he wants, but you've landed the first blow. Now, the nature of the game has changed. All caution has been thrown into the wind, and you've dedicated yourself to completely making a mess of him, even if you make a mess of yourself in the process.

It's your turn to make the next move. Kissing him with much more purpose and fervour, you gently take his bottom lip in between your teeth causing him to return the action. You tactfully graze your nails across his chest upwards towards the back of his head, letting his pink hair run between your fingers. He's pulling you in tighter now so your chest lies flush onto his — so close, you can feel each other's heartbeats rattling in your ribcage. You're not sure if he's doing this on purpose, but your breasts are pressed so nicely against his toned chest that even his breathing elicits a small whimper from you. His hands rub lightly up and down the small of your back, keeping you stuck against him. The arousal of it all threatens to throw you off track, but he unwittingly reminds you of your plan when he pulls away to tease you, "If I had known this is what you wanted, I would have revealed my affections for you sooner." His grip upon your waist had threatened to make you abandon all wits and give in to his touch, but when that dastardly smile appears on his face again, you're reminded of what you must do.

You're absolutely relishing in satisfaction when you shock him once more, because now you've wrapped your legs around his, straddling his lap, purposefully resting yourself on his growing bulge. For once, he's not quick to retaliate at your advances. This time, he's just mesmerized by your brazenness. He'd be lying if he said that he hasn't fantasized about this exact scenario countless times, that you weren't the first to come to mind on particularly lonely nights at the outpost. But he never, in his wildest dreams, thought he'd be spoiled like this today. He lets you make your next move by staying still; as if he were to move, he'd accidentally wake himself up and find this was all a dream. However, his hesitance is what's getting to you now. Why is he so quiet? Does he want me to move? Shit, if he doesn't like this, I should get off of him, ramble the doubts running through your mind. But as you attempt to shuffle off his lap, he catches you by the back again to keep your weight on top of him. You can't believe how needy he looks right now, so needy for you touch him. You have your confirmation — he's wrapped around your finger.

"Wow, you're so quiet now. That's very unlike you, Lance" you tease. "You need me to move, hm? Or would that be too much for you?" You smile at him smugly as you place your hands on his shoulders. "You don't need to hurry the pace on my behalf, sweetheart. Only go as fast as you can handle," he says, retaliating with a smirk. You think I can't handle this, huh? I'm gonna make you eat your words, you think to yourself. In a quick grind of your hips, you graze your clothed cunt against him causing both of you let out a sharp breath at the stimulation. God, maybe he was right. Maybe you can't handle this because this movement alone is driving you crazy. I mean, it definitely has been a while since you've hooked up with somebody, but this feeling is much more overwhelming than anything you remember. There's no way you'd be able to live it down if you were to cum on him just from this. Maybe I should stop while I'm ahead, you think to yourself. But he's giving you a look he's never showed you before — he looks so hungry and dazed. You can't stop now, not when you have him against the ropes like this. So you ease into a rhythm, using your grip on his shoulders as leverage to rock your clit onto his length.

This is bad. Really bad. You're absolutely dripping on his lap and moaning into his ear, and you're not even going that fast. Definitely not as nonchalant as you hoped you could be. Lucky for you, Lance doesn't seem to notice. Judging by how hard he is, he's probably too turned on to care. You just hope your wetness isn't soaking through your clothes. Still, you consciously slow down your pace to let yourself calm down. This, however, does catch Lance's attention. "Come on, what happened to that vigour? You can do better than that. Here..." he scolds, now grabbing the fat of your ass in each of his hands. "...allow me to help you with that." You whine at his sudden movements as he makes you rub faster against him. Moans keep slipping through your mouth no matter how hard you try to bite your lip to hide them. You can feel him buck his hips under you in perfect rhythm to his hands that pull you against his length. Fuck, why does he have to be so fucking good at this?

You can feel the knot in your stomach beginning to untie itself, ready to make you burst. Not good. You have to think of something, and think of it fast. He's still grinding you on top of his cock when you lean in for a kiss yet again, this time, pressing the weight of your chest entirely on top of him. You push forward against him so hard that the chair you're both supported upon nearly tips over, until he grabs table before you both fall. "Don't get too carried away now," he says with a smile. "Says you," you retort back breathily. His words are unwavering but you can see it; there's a bead of sweat dripping from his brow and he's breathing is erratic. He's not faring as well as he's leading on. It's time to make him pay for taking the reigns away from you.

With his grip loosened, you free yourself to stand in front of him, standing with your back facing toward him. He opens his mouth to tease you again, something like "It felt good for me too, darling. No need to be shy," but really, his assessment of the situation couldn't be further from the truth. He couldn't get the words out before you begin unbuttoning the top of your blouse, slowly and alluringly allowing the fabric to slip off of you. You can't see him, but you can practically feel his eyes burning a hole through you; he's got to be fucking you with his eyes by now. You peer over your shoulder as you slip your bra straps off of them, and oh my god, the look on his face. He's basically salivating at the sight of you and you're not even fully naked yet. You sneak him a cheeky smile and unclasp the last of the hooks on your bra, letting the article fall to the floor. He grabs at his throbbing cock while shuffling in his seat when he realizes how his pants are fitting much too tight right now. He badly wants to reach forward and turn you around so he can get a full view of your front, but before he can even get up from his chair, you're already slowly pulling your pants down to reveal the black lacy underwear underneath. Every obscene word he's ever known is threatening to leave his lips all at once and ruin his eloquent reputation — he can only contain himself by running his fingers through his hair; an act of self-soothing. You turn around in an unhurried pace leaving him to wait with bated breath, waiting to catch the full glimpse of you. And when you're fully exposed, he's completely awestruck.

"Stunning. Absolutely stunning," he praises, shaking his head in disbelief. You've never smiled wider than now as you watch him scan every part of you up and down. Still facing him, you sit yourself upon the bed. "Wanna take these off for me?" you say while darting your eyes down to your panties. Grinning from ear to ear, he gets up and walks toward you in response. You fully extend your arm and with an open palm, stopping him from approaching. "Hm actually, nope. It's your turn now," you chide. "Show me what I'm working with first."

He lets out a chuckle at your command, but he's quick to oblige. "As you wish, sweetheart." You can't even get yourself to hate the little nickname he attaches at the end of his sentence — it just sounds so sexy when he's stripping down in front of you like this. He expertly unbuttons his shirt to reveal his muscular body. You hope that your inner thoughts can remain hidden because right now, they're screaming about how incredibly attractive he is. You would have bet that he'd be well in shape but god, he's a work of art. Much like yours, his shirt falls to the floor with a light thud, allowing you to take in his every feature. He's so hot, it's almost unfair. Soon, the sound of his belt buckle being undone echoes around the room. He stops himself after unbuttoning the top of his pants before looking at you, "Is this what you're looking for?" gesturing his eyes towards his bulge. Swallowing thickly, you mumble as clever of a response you can muster, "Maybe, not bad so far." He knows you're lying through your teeth by the way you bite your lip, how your eyes track his hands as he slowly slips his pants down past his waist. Your lips are raw and slightly swollen from how much you've had to bite down on them today because your pride truly depends on it. But the moment his pants hit the floor, your pride seems to matter much, much less than your need to have him entirely.

You're too mesmerized by his near naked body that you hardly notice he's standing right in front of you now, leaning inches over you with his arms supporting his weight upon the bed. Face to face with one another, you stare into each other's eyes intensely — anticipating the next move. "Well, what are you waiting for?" you say with a provoking smile, "Take these off of me." He dives in for a kiss, one that leaves you breathless and lightheaded. Before long, he's placing kisses down your body, grazing his fingers over your nipples to make you squirm beneath him. His hands tease around your body until they land themselves under near the waistband of your underwear, and with a swift tug, he pulls them past your ankles. Instinctively, you want to close your legs to shield yourself from exposure, but his hands are already placed upon your knees, preventing you from covering the view he wants to see so badly. And what a view it is. The sight of your pretty wet pussy makes him swear under his breath.

"Fuck..." he curses softly then quickly clears his throat to conceal his profanity, "So perfect." He runs his fingers from your knee up to the inside of your thighs, itching to reach your centre. His touch sends shivers down your spine — you just can't believe this actually happening. You've touched yourself an embarrassing amount of times to this fantasy and now, his hand is gently resting upon your pelvis. Any animosity you think you had for him has disappeared almost entirely as you quiver beneath him. He hovers his hand over your desperate cunt for what feels like an eternity before he looks up at you to ask, "may I?" At the nod of your head, he glides two fingers over your slit. A loud moan unabashedly escapes your mouth and he strokes from your entrance up to your clit. His calloused fingers are both rough and sickeningly soft at the same time, it's all too much to bear. You subconsciously reach out to the hand dipped between your thighs, trying to restrain him from sending you over your limit. This only prompts him to apply more pressure to your clit, gently rubbing circles around the bud. Your hips uncontrollably buck against his movements and he just watches. Watches how you throw your head back in pleasure and how you desperately try to hang on to your bearings. He's going to have to check his ego later, because it's absolutely being stroked by the way you convulse from his touch.

He just can't help it. Your slick just coats his fingers so perfectly, he just has to plunge them inside your needy cunt. That's what you're waiting for, isn't it? It must be, by the way you let him slide in his digits in with such ease. His fingers are are so much longer and thicker than yours; they fill your pussy so much deeper than you can by yourself. Just two fingers is all is takes to arch your back in pleasure and grab a fistful of his bedding for stability. You're already losing your mind, but this is just a sign for him to keep plunging in and out of you. A sign for him to curl his fingers upward as he pumps them inside your cunt, coaxing your orgasm out from the deepest parts of you. Oh god. You can definitely feel it now. Your high is clawing its way out with every push into your core. It's too fucking good, is all you can think but your lewd cries are begging for more. Begging for more fullness, begging for his cock to bury itself deep inside you. Setting aside your pride, you muster a pitiful plea that targets his primal instincts, "P-please." Your tone makes him stop, yet his fingers are still buried to the knuckle inside you to feel how you clench around him. The headstrong adventurer beneath him has been reduced to a meek little lamb, and his hero's intuition wants to soothe the small voice that's begging for his attention.

"What is it, angel? Are you not satisfied?" he asks softly, lightly scissoring his two fingers inside you. "Please what? I can't help you if you don't tell me." His words would usually suggest he's teasing you but the way he's caressing your cheek has you thinking that he is actually looking to offer you some relief. So you answer him in kind by reaching out with both of your hands, caressing his face and breathily pleading, "Please...let me ride you. I wanna feel you." Placing a soft but deep kiss on your lips, he catches the whines falling from your mouth when he frees his fingers from inside you. "As you wish," he obediently assures you against your open mouth. You stare at the ceiling, panting erratically to calm yourself from the loss of stimulation. Meanwhile, Lance is already positioning himself to lay flat on the bed, his head at the top of the headrest. The bed's shifting weight snaps you back down to earth, just enough for you to turn around for the sight that, quite literally, lays before you.

He's pulled down his underwear to reveal his thick, throbbing cock — patiently waiting for you to mount him just like you asked to. For a moment, you're just stuck. Completely hypnotized by his length, your mind races with thoughts of him entirely enveloped inside you. The hunger in your eyes must have been enough of a clue to him, because now he holds himself by the shaft for you to ogle at. Then, as if your body is moving on its own, you slowly approach him. Presenting your hips on his lap until your slit is mere inches away from his dick. You're just taking the time to admire his length, but your hesitance is like torture. You're so close to him, yet so far away. The way your pretty pussy is drenching his thighs tempts him to bully himself into you, but suddenly your hand reaches for his tip. He sharply exhales as you palm the head of his cock, making his whole length glisten in his precum. Just moments ago, he was fingering you to submission, but now, he's at your mercy. Gripping the shaft, you grind his wetted tip against your clit; mixing your wetness with his. You'd revel in the way you make him shudder for much longer, but your own patience is reaching its end. Your knees planted on each of his sides, you guide him to your entrance.

"Come get what you asked for," he begs with a growl, his voice bellowing from the recesses of his throat, "give it to m-" His words end abruptly when you lower yourself onto his length. "Holy shit," you whisper — his tip has barely entered your wet hole yet you feel yourself being stretched by his size. He's groaning and gripping your thighs tightly from the way your cunt squeezes him. You place your hands on his abs for support to push his thick cock deeper and deeper into you, all the while trying to ignore the jolts of pleasure coursing through you. And with a soft clap of your ass on his thighs and pained moan from his mouth, he's entirely inside you — pulsing and throbbing against your cervix. His girth fills you so perfectly that your legs start to shake. You're already so drunk on his cock that your words come out slurred, just barely coherent. "Big..." you lazily mumble, making him hum in response. "It's so...big." Utter overwhelm washes over you both, so much so that you can't muster the strength to tease each other. Completely humbled by the pleasure of just being connected.

You're both still for a moment, like you've made a silent agreement to savour the feeling — not daring to move at the risk of reaching your peaks before the fun had begun. But every second you wait allows you to feel how he fills you to the brim, his shape moulding into you. He's not doing much better, not when your needy cunt is threatening to milk him dry. As soon as you feel accustomed to his size, you ask for his permission to move, echoing back his earlier gesture, "may I?" His hands find place above your hips, his eyes fixed with furrowed brows to where you're connected. Finally, he grants your wish, "Please."

Lifting yourself up by the knees, you pull yourself to his tip just to ease him back into you. A mess of slick leaking out of you as you push his hard cock into your depths. The first thrust is intense but oh so addicting. So you lift yourself up again, this time, lowering yourself with more enthusiasm. The sound of your dripping cunt smacking into his base is quickly followed by a slew of groans from both your mouths. The sounds, the heat, the rollercoaster of pleasure…it's so hard not to indulge in it all. So, naturally indulge is exactly what you do. You lock into a rhythm, bouncing up and down on his dick like it was made for you. The caution in your movements have long disappeared as you grind and rock his length into you over and over again. The sight below you just encourages you to fuck him into you with more fervour, plunging his cock as deep as your pussy allows. Lance looks into your eyes like he worships you, heaving and muttering profanities under his breath. Can you really blame him? His view of you is tantalizing; your greedy cunt gushes all over him as his cock disappears inside you, tits bouncing at your rhythm, and your face. God, your face has him going feral with admiration of you. So honest and revealing of how much you've wanted him this whole time.

Your pace is becoming off-beat the closer and closer to cumming you get. A small part of you was clinging onto the hope that you'd make him cum first, but that plan is damned by how good it feels. I don't care anymore — I just wanna fucking cum, you think as you bring a hand to your puffy clit, rubbing rough circles around it. You're so goddamn close but your legs are giving out before you can feel your release, just edging you away from your orgasm. But like he can interpret your petulant whines, he lifts you by your waist and bucks his hips violently upward into your spasming cunt to resume the pace. "Don't slow down now," he commands with ragged breath; his sentence fragmented by his careless thrusts into you, "You're so close, I can feel it. Don't stop, cum for me." He fucks up into you with so much strength that you reach one arm backward to hold on his thigh for stability, the other listening to his demands and rubbing you anxiously toward your orgasm. The clapping of your bodies get faster and faster, then suddenly, it stops. Only the sound of his name echoes around the room and he rocks deeply into you through your orgasm. Your head is thrown back as you convulse wildly on his cock, still nestled against your cervix. It's the only thing you can feel as the earth shatters around you. You're only brought down to reality by his soft coos entering your ears, "that's it, angel. That's it."

Your body slumps weakly as the tension slips away. Leaning forward, he presses kisses on your neck, whispering praises against your skin. Praising you for how well you took it, for how good you're being right now. Even if all he could do today is make you reach your high, he'd be more than satisfied. That's why it's so surprising when you turn yourself around and bend your tired body before him. Your face rests steadily on the bed as you gently wiggle your hips to invite him in. You can't see it, but his face lights up into a wide grin. "My god, you're insatiable," he teases, giving your ass a light smack as he lines himself up to you. Even in your fucked out bliss, you find the strength to tease him back, "Gotta finish what I started, don't I?" Without much thought, he shoves his cock back into you with rough thrusts. Your overstimulated pussy takes him back with ease, letting him plow harder and harder into you. Your muffled cries sink into the sheets as he pounds you, you can't hear anything but the sounds of sex and his grunts. He leans over to whisper to you, now thrusting deeper than he could before, "Don't worry, I'm c-close. So…close." You're so eager to please, you lean backward into him, coaxing him closer to his own orgasm. He moans louder and louder until one word signals his impending high, "Y-yes…" He was so close to filling you before he pulls out, spilling his cum on your back while he strokes the top of his dick. With gravelly groans, he lets his hot seed spurt out of him, covering your backside in white.

Still leaning forward on you, he rests his sweat-covered forehead near the nape of your neck, spreading hot breath down your spine. And just like the way you started, you fall back into the silent agreement of stillness. The thick air in the room slowly thins as your breathing grows slower, and slower in pace. You shiver from the cool air of his body leaving yours, only to have him return to wipe you clean with a cloth from his nightstand. Once he wipes you down, he tosses the cloth to his desk and lays himself beside you. Rolling over to look at the ceiling, you find yourself perfectly parallel to him; your shoulder just grazing his. The moment is both awkward yet comforting — lying quietly beside him as you wrap your head around about the night's events. It's rare for you to find peace within each other's company like this, so neither of you decide to break the silence for some time.

Your eyes begin to flutter closed until his voice spurs you awake, "Well, I was certainly not expecting this today," he chuckles, "But I'm not foolish enough to complain." For once, you laugh alongside him. "Yeah, but you are foolish enough to get seduced by me," you snicker. He perches himself up by the elbows to beam at you, "Is that so? Am I incorrect in assuming you enjoyed it too, hm?" he probes, hoping to call you out on your bluff. With a hiss leaving your gritted teeth, you admit, "Ha, yeah. Fine. You're not wrong... But don't get used it." You smile at the ceiling with your eyes closed, amused by your back and forth. Even with your eyes closed, you can tell he's still looking you until you feel him lie back down beside you. He's just staring at the ceiling too, pondering his next words carefully.

"Well, that is a shame. If I'm honest, I wouldn't mind this being a regular occurrence." You wish you could stop yourself from smiling at his admission but it's impossible — there is simply no restraint left in you to hold back. He continues on, "But, if you'd rather this be an isolated incident, I'll honour your wishes. It'll be hard to forget tonight, but I will try my best to do so."

You let out a deep sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose with your index and thumb. You take a few seconds to listen to the arguing voices in your mind. On one hand, this was totally unexpected and definitely not what you intended when you started the confrontation. You're still a little scorned from his nitpicking over the past few months, but is there really a way to go back to where you two were before? On the other hand, god, you needed this. You've sworn yourself off relationships for a while the moment you packed your life away from the city. You just want a simple life where the only drama you have is from adrenaline-fuelled adventuring. But nearly two years into the valley, your fingers and toys are hardly enough to satisfy you. You've got needs too, don't you? And yeah, fine. You admit, you couldn't ask for a better person to meet your needs if you tried. The prideful side of you wants to scoff and shoo him away, but every other part of you knows exactly what you want.

Against your better judgement, you blurt out, "Okay…so what if this was a regular occurrence?" Wait, did you just say that out loud? Well, it's too late now to take a step back isn't it? He's already looking at you with his eyebrow raised, so you continue, "I mean…I'm not sure if I want a relationship right now, exactly. But…" It's your turn to perch yourself on your elbows to look at him.

"Okay, look. You're busy all the time, and so am I. But we're adults with needs, right? So how about we continue—whatever this is—no feelings attached, hm? No need for labels or expectations, just two adults blowing off steam." God, this is embarrassing. You've never attempted a relationship like this before and now you're trying to establish one with the guy you swear you hated up until an hour ago? What the fuck am I doing? Doubts start creeping on you again, nearly causing you to spit out a mess of words to take back everything you offered, but he cuts in before you can.

"Hm…yes. I think this arrangement would work for me," he ponders with a hand to his chin, not noticing your mouth agape from his agreement. "I am busy, that much is true. With my schedule, a committed relationship hasn't been able to fit in with my lifestyle. And it would be ideal to do such things with someone I could trust…" his sentences trail off with a lilt, as if he's thinking out loud before trailing off.

You catch him off guard and complete his thought, you sit up to face him and extend your right hand. "So is it a deal?"

Sitting up to match your height, he stares at you for a moment, contemplating what he's about to get himself into. Then, he cheekily smirks and with a firm grip on your hand, he seals the agreement.

"It's a deal."

PART ONE — EPILOGUE

Marlon grunts as he lifts himself up from the edge of his boat, stretching out his aching knee from the lengthy voyage. It's no secret that the adventurer is getting older, but these trips are still a breeze for him — minus the small tinges of pain from his joints, of course. After laying down his anchor and tying the ship to the dock, he retrieves his lantern among his belongings to make his way up to the outpost tower. The Highlands is his last stop to report to after his meeting with the Castle Village Guard. The sun has just dipped below the horizon now, so he hopes it won't be too much trouble to ask to rest up in the guard tower before setting sail again.

Once he reaches the top of the steps, he notices that Lance isn't stationed in his usual spot by the balcony. This is an uncommon sight, but not unheard of. More than likely, it usually means he's locked in focus with his research inside. But as Marlon approaches the tower, he's alarmed by loud groans sounds coming from within the room. Resting his hand against his scabbard, he slowly approaches the door, so as to not alert whatever creature has made its way into the outpost. Carefully stepping inches within the door, he gently places his ear against the wood before pulling quickly away. "Oh for fuck's sake," he mutters, his face now red with embarrassment. He released his grip on his weapon to plant his face firmly into his palm. Quickly stepping away from the tower, he mumbles annoyedly under his breath, "It's about fucking time."

Climbing back into the boat at the docks, he decides he'll just sleep there instead. Looks like Marlon has a long night ahead of him, at least until you finish up and notice him in the morning.

—

END OF PART 1/2

#holy shit I finally finished it ahhh #time for part two hehehe #stardew valley #sdv smut #sdve #stardew valley expanded lance #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley smut #sve lance #sve lance x reader #smut #sdv fanfic #fwb to lovers #rivals to lovers #grem-writes

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nynyhaha · 3 months

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Machi and Shizuku — How to treat human remains

Both of the beautiful Spider members cause death with their abilities,increasing the number of corpses.But what do they do with them afterwards?

Despite being in the same organisation and doing crimes together their approach to corpses is very different.

I’d even call them polar opposites.

Machi is known for killing and healing people with her threads,but what matters here is her skill on restoring dead people to look better.

It’s made clear that she came to master nen Threads in that exact context.Kinda tragic,actually. We don’t see her trying to restore anyone to their original beauty so it’s unknown to what extent she knows Renkos craft,but since she wanted to learn it we can assume she knows quite a lot about it.

A personal headcanon of mine is that she took it upon herself to arrange the flowers for Paku’s “grave”

Look how sad it is :((

Meanwhile Shizuku,well…cleans up.

Being sucked into a vacuum like dust just to disappear in its void seems like a bad way for your body to end.I mean,what is a corpse really worth?

Is it not a puppet?🖊📖🕷

But if corpses were just puppets there wouldn’t be people like Machi and Renko.

If Machi had no emotions towards Hisokas corpse she’d just dispose of it or call Shizuku.But she fixed it up.

Because people care about the dead,their bodies and their wishes.

Treating corpses as humans allows one to spend a bit more time with them,to keep them alive a bit longer in their mind.

The importance of human remains being buried properly is also why Kurapika is so relentlessly searching for the eyes of his kin.

It’s why we can judge Chrollo’s moral state by his treatment of corpses and see that there’s clearly something seriously wrong with the way he sees people.Which isn’t just a Chrollo issue(Check out my Neon Nostrade post)but a broader problem in the HxH world.

Machi and Chrollo started out in the same place.

Horrified at how their friend has been dehumanised along with other kids of Meteor City,they vowed to take revenge and reverse this trend.Now they themselves kill people without batting an eye.

What started out as “we are humans so see us as such,even in death we have dignity”

turned into “human corpses are just like puppets and we can use them in any way that fits us.”

Surely,Pakunodas body and even Hisokas are very different than those of dead mafia men.That’s just how it is with close people.

So..what is it? a) human remains are to be respected

b)corpses are just empty shells,they’re inanimate objects so they don’t matter

c)corpses might have meaning and personhood attached to them but we will only honour that with those we care about/those who deserve it

It must be a mix of b and c by now.Hypocrisy is a big theme of HxH.But in the general view of the Spiders, Machi included,human lives rarely matter and their dead remains are even less important.

Young Machi might’ve been horrified by Shizukus ability,I mean,imagine Sarasa’s kidnappers “cleaning up” her body in such a manner.

But now Shizuku and Blinky are very useful to the troupe and everyone appreciates them.

Shizuku is a troupe member that’s rather unsettling to me because of her innocence and young age(19).She’s calm and we don’t see cruelty or bloodthirst in her.Even out of the women in the troupe she seems the least threatening.Yet her ability is very bleak and shows acceptance and indifference when it comes to horrible things.

She takes Chrollo’s orders seriously even if that means letting him die.She’s one of the people that appear normal and could live a normal life. Or so it seems.We know nothing about her past but she must’ve had a reason to join the troupe.She no less passionate about it than Machi.

Oh,if only we knew how and why she developed her ability!

I don’t think that would be a happy story tho,haha.She even reminds me of Chrollo a bit,that mix of apathy and pleasant calm demeanour just has something to it.

Machi seems to have a bit more “rage/fire” in her.She’s closer to seeing corpses as people even now.But despite the differences,the Spiders get along.

So it really depends if your corpse will be patched up by Machi or deleted by Shizuku.

#machi hxh #machi komacine #shizuku hxh #shizuku murasaki #phantom troupe #yorknew city #hxh #chrollo lucilfer #hxh headcanons

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years

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Pls don't stop wiring for daemon anytime soon! I love that you write for the two pining for eachother. Can you write one where daemon is just so in love with her and praises the ground she walks on but they aren't together yet ?

She is my heart (Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader)

Daemon has always gone for what he wanted. The objects of his passion, he would inevitably possess. But you are different, in that you weren't his. Not yet. But he was already yours. Completely.

themes: pining, friends to lovers, whipped!Daemon 😏 ▪︎ masterlist

"Well?" Your soft inquiry reached his ears, "What do you think?"

Daemon snapped back into attention, having drifted away in thoughts of you. You had entered the room, clad in a beautiful new dress, one that displays your house sigil in an intricate pattern. The dress was something to behold, but you...

"You look absolutely ethereal, princess."

You blushed, not expecting such a straightforward comment. "Thank you, Daemon."

Daemon was your closest confidante in King's Landing. You had known him for years, and he's always been there through every significant event in your life.

You trusted him completely, as he did you. He had built quite a reputation for himself - Prince Daemon, the Rogue Prince. Dangerous, unpredictable, wild. But with you, he was just Daemon.

You rarely saw this dangerous side of him that everyone spoke of, except in some instances where he became quite protective of you. Daemon, when around you, always seemed content. Only you could drown out his anger, and quell his worries. The life that he was born into was an endless parade of politicking and strategy, but one thing that mattered more than all that - more than power, privilege, glory - was you.

"My father had this made, because as you know, I shall begin my courtship ceremony in a fortnight."

"Already?" Daemon started to worry. Was the dreaded event that soon?

I'm about to lose her, Daemon thinks, but how can I, when she might never have been mine?

"Yes, well, it is my duty to marry into a great house, even though that's not really what I desire."

"And what do you desire?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"All this makes me feel like a pawn in some game. If I am to marry, I would like it to be with someone who truly loves me, and whom I love in return. Not just some political arrangement."

Daemon takes your hand, caressing your fingers out of habit, "If the choice was all yours, do you have anyone in mind?"

"Someone I love?" you looked up at him, as he absentmindedly played with your hand. You knew the answer to that, and he did, too.

"Yes, that would be ideal," Daemon said, smirking then, but his tone is wholehearted, "someone you love, someone who would do absolutely anything for you, someone who would burn the whole world down for you, if you only said the word."

You heard his words for what they were, "I do."

He brought up his hand to your cheek, "Darling, so do I."

_____________________________

"Are you sure, brother?" King Viserys sat quietly in his chambers, while his brother fervently made his wishes clear to him.

"More than anything," Daemon's voice did not waver, "Wed her to me. I love her, brother. For me, she is the only one there ever was. The only one there will ever be. I love her as you loved Aemma. Issa ñuha prūmia."

Viserys looked at his brother fondly, knowing that he spoke the truth. From what he has observed himself, you and Daemon were made for each other. Daemon had never seemed more adamant, more certain about anything before. Without any agenda, without need for compromise. He only truly wanted you.

"Very well," Viserys smiled, squeezing Daemon's shoulder, "she shall be yours. Although, I have a feeling that she already is."

🐉🖤🐉🖤🐉🖤🐉

Issa ñuha prūmia = She is my heart.

#house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen #endless oneshots

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knifegrrrl1312 · 2 months

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so i feel like how aspec sexuality connecting to abandonment trauma and personality disorders is not talked ab enough, well it is by ppl with personality disorders but i wanna talk ab it basically w my experience w bpd and being aro/ace spectrum

and i know fellow bpd havers know the feeling of being unlovable very well. For me i'm demiromantic and it would take literal years for me to actually develop a genuine romantic attraction to someone, and if when i do, that person would straight up become my fp and it would be torture pain and suffering (for me mostly)

Like romantic feelings for me is nothing fun, because its linked to my mental issues inherently i feel. And i still want a romantic relationship one day but that feeling of being unlovable and like, i'm just not suited for it (in the sense that i couldnt handle it i feel) is like,, i will just not try there is no point. I will suffer for another person always wondering do they hate me will they leave me, ofc they will there's not much i can offer even. I will end up hating the person i love and then go back to loving them and then hating them etc etc.. Not to mention amanormativity (idkkk if thats how u spell it or if thats the right term) but basically i assume people want something from me that i simply cannot give. I will never be able to have sex with someone, i will never want to, I actually just wouldn't put myself thru that for someone else and because i feel like thats all anyone would actually want from me i will just probably never want to be in a relationship. Like for me personally i'm supperrr asexual like u have no idea i've known i was ace since i was literally 10 yrs old and nothing has changed i will always be like this, and i dont mind doing *some* suggestive sexual stuff if its fun and chill but the second a line gets crossed i just want no part in it and i refuse to put myself thru that.

And i'm also very fine w being single like i only ever feel like i want a gf once in awhile but i feel completely whole just by myself and my life is objectively easier and more relaxing without romance. For me i don't think i'll actually be ready for a genuine romantic relationship until i feel like i am and that will be hopefully when i'm older lol

Idk i feel like because of the stigma against aro/ace ppl and also the experience of bpd, it enhances the feeling of being unlovable. But I want to make it clear to ppl reading this post that i'm aware that i actually am lovable, this is just a feeling. And i didn't write this to complain, and if you have the same experience as me or a similar one, that doesn't mean there is no hope for you or for me. The world is so much bigger than how my brain perceives everything. Like i do want to stress that these feelings are mostly a symptom of my mental illness lol and if you have bpd or a pd it doesn't make you unlovable, bc everyone is lovable by default yknow.

Even people who's hearts are a mouthful, like mine. And even if ur reading this and you don't have the experience of having a pd but you still have feelings of being unlovable or like, there is no hope for you in romance because you are arospec or acespec or both like me, well there is hope for everyone because the world is so much bigger than societies stigma and people are as diverse as the stars.. But lmk if you have a similar experience anywayz ppl <3

#longish post #bpd #actually bpd #borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #asexual #aspec #aromantic #demiromantic #bambi lesbian #ace lesbian #personality disorder #aroace #acespec #arospec

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apprenticestanheight · 10 months

Note

Adam being found in the trap and the reader helping him recover afterwards? Love ur stuff!!!

Peaceful- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

hi!! Thank you for sending this in--I know it's been a couple of weeks but thank you and I'm sorry it's taken so long. Life and demotivation and bad object permanence have all gotten in the way recently and so this request slipped away from my mind for a while there, but if you're reading, anon, I really do hope this was worth the wait!

Fic type- this is a somewhat healthy balance of angst and fluff, though the angst is a bit heavy so the scales might be somewhat uneven

Warnings- this is very unedited oops

Adam is found only thanks to Lawrences insistences as he's put onto a stretcher. Lawrence had mustered what limited strength he had left to tell paramedics to get the cops to investigate the building he'd crawled out of, and thankfully they'd listened.

Adam is found four days out from his initial capture, and in that time you'd been worried sick. Scott had given you Xanax from a buddy of a buddy just to get you to calm down, and even then, despite looking calm on your exterior, your mind was clouded with thoughts of Adam and such remained as you haggled the police to start looking for him.

Your entire body pretty much floods with relief when you answer an unknown caller from the landline and hear the voice of a nurse, informing you that you were the first person on Adam Stanheights emergency contact list and that he was in the hospital, being treated for a severe shoulder wound that had been left to fester for nearly a week.

You go see him the day after you're called, and Adam manages a small smile when he sees you entering the room, wearing one of his sweaters and likely harboring his last known pack of cigarettes in the pocket so that you could calm yourself down with an excuse to go outside when you got the jitters.

"Thief," Adam says, adjusting his bed so that he's sitting up. His shoulder is in wicked pain and he wants to be mad about it but seeing you has pretty much made feeling anything other than relief impossible. "My sweater, probably my cigarettes too."

Adam laughs when you freeze, clearly not having meant to walk in while he was awake, let alone feeling brazen. You approach and sit in the weird comfortable-but-not reclining chair on his left, lightly hitting the space near his thigh as you do.

"Shut up," you murmur. "It smelled like you, okay? And as for the cigarettes--yes, I did steal them but that was because they looked lonely, and I figured it was a few days where I didn't have to buy a pack. Haggling the police is stressful enough, I deserved a break."

"You haggled the police?" Adam asks. "Isn't that grounds for harassment?"

"Well, one very angry FBI agent made sure to make that clear to me the day before you were found, but I don't have any regrets. I was worried--worried to the point of Scott feeling the need to get me fuckin' Xanax."

Adam snorts, scoffing a little. "He knows a few dealers who've been bugging him to start feeding them clientele," he says. "Of course he'd use my disappearance as the opportunity to buy a bottle. Fucking lunatic."

You grab his hand before you can think about it, and Adam interlaces your fingers without a second thought.

"Are you okay if I spend a few days at yours when I'm released?"

"Of course," you nod. "Yeah--however much time you want, you can spend it at mine."

Adam looks at you, for a minute, like you're the reason that there are stars in the sky at night. You bring his hand to your lips and press a kiss against it, telling him to rest because he'd been trapped for four days and could probably use some to replace the sleep he'd missed out on.

He makes a quip about how little he'll sleep when he's at yours, closes his eyes and rests his cheek against his pillow as you scoff, saying: "You wish, Stanheight," as he drifts off.

Adam gets released a week later, and when he comes to stay at your place, you learn that Adam has a whole new host of fears to accompany the trauma of being trapped with what seemed like no way out.

He doesn't really like the dark and is afraid of the water, and just about anything is small enough to set off his anger issues or make him start quipping, sarcasm dripping from his tone like no tomorrow.

Of course, that ends up culminating in a fight between the two of you, which are rare to speak of because you've just--you've rarely fought.

It's something that Adam prides himself on--despite thinking of himself as an inherently angry person, he's not prone to flipping his lid as much as he used to be.

You two had been together for three years at that point, and Adam was very anger prone during the opening stages of your relationship so fights were common, but he'd done his best and worked on it and two years and nine months gone, he'd stopped being so quick to anger with regard to you. He kept himself in check because fighting was exhausting and he hated fighting with you as it were, so communication had become a big thing for you two and it was one of the reasons the two of you were so tight knit.

But then, after his trap, Adam stopped communicating because he knew you wouldn't understand and what was the point in talking if you wouldn't get it? Adam had stopped communicating with regard to that because it was just--he thought it was easier that way.

But of course, you didn't feel the same. You felt like he was shutting you out and you hated that, and it all culminated some night in the middle of September.

"You're just--you're not getting it!" You're shouting, standing by the fridge where Adam sits at the dining room table. "You're not understanding my perspective, Adam. Pete's sake, it's like trying to talk to a goddamned brick wall."

"There's nothing to understand, Y/N!" Adam fires back. "There's nothing to discuss, okay? I'm fine! I've been fine--everything is fine with me and you thinking otherwise is not helping because you're trying to pry to get answers and I just fuckin' hate that shit, and you know it, and you're doing it to aggravate me!"

"I'm not doing anything to aggravate you, Adam," you pause, turning around and pressing your forehead against the steel of your fridge. You let your eyes close. "I'm trying to fucking understand, okay?"

"There's nothing to understand!" Adam screams. "I was put into a trap, okay? I was shot and I killed someone and I was left for fucking dead--you don't get that. It's not your job to get that, and I'm not asking you to so stop trying!"

"I want to understand, Adam," you try to keep your voice level. "I want to understand because I want to help you, all right? I want to make sure that you're okay because you're clearly incapable of doing so yourself so someone fucking has to!"

"You're a goddamned lunatic," Adam shouts. "Fuck, I fell in love with a lunatic! Good job, me! I don't need help, Y/N. I'm not worthy of a fucking pity party, nor am I your goddamned charity case. Stop trying to fix me--I'm fine, okay? And when I say I'm fine, you need to either believe it or get the fuck out of my life!"

You mull over the words for maybe ten seconds before you speak again.

"Get out," you say, voice monotonous. "Get the fuck out of my apartment, Adam. If you want me gone, then you have to leave because I sure as hell am not going anywhere."

Adam sighs. "Fine," he says. "If that's how you wanna be, then I'll go. We're done."

"Whatever you say, Stanheight," you shrug. "If you don't want help, then fine. I won't give it to you, but I'm not going to stick around just for you to shut me out. That is not who I am and I will not be that person just to give you comfort."

You don't look at him, only hear his footsteps and the wall-shaking slam of the door signaling that he's gone.

Once he's left, you move to the counter, brace your hands against it and start quietly crying.

Adam goes to his apartment, finding solace in both the bottle of whiskey that sits in one of his cabinets and the stray cat he's been feeding since he moved in.

Two and a half days go by before Adam is at your apartment, an apology on the tip of his tongue and your favorite CDs in a care basket he carries, that he had to buy with two last minute PI jobs that he hopes the Jigsaw killer isn't going to bust his ass for.

You answer the door within thirty seconds after Adam knocks, and selfishly Adam is kind of relieved to sere you look as much of a wreck as he does.

He grins sadly at you. "I don't wanna break up," he says. "I don't know why I said that, and I'm really sorry--this trap shit has messed me up and I swear, I didn't mean to take it out on you."

You look about ready to collapse in his arms, but you at least have the decency to let him in first, nodding your agreement as you do. Once the door closes, Adam puts the basket onto the floor and hugs you as tightly as he can muster.

"'M sorry, baby," he says, finally letting out the guilt that has had two days to fester. "I didn't mean to snap, I swear."

"I know," you nod. "I know, Adam, and I know that I can't understand what you've been through but I just--I want to help you, okay? I know you're not okay because I can see it, and I just want to make sure you know I care. I'm sorry if I've been overbearing about it but I just--seeing you like you've been lately? I love you so much, but it's been unbearable. I hate it because I know you're in pain and you're not letting me help."

He pulls away just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, holding your face like he has his entire world between his palms.

"I don't want you to feel like you need to try and fix me," Adam murmurs as your hands find his forearms. You run your hands up and down them, trying to soothe both his anxiety and your own. "I don't need to be fixed, Y/N, and I don't wanna be. I don't wanna be a charity case, okay? If I'm too fucked up you're allowed to let me go."

"You're not a charity case, Stanheight," you say it with a laugh following along through your words, and as Adam presses another lingering kiss to your forehead he knows you're smiling. "Even if I wanted you to be, you wouldn't let me turn you into one. I just wanna--I wanna know, what's happened to you and what I can to do help you when the going gets tough, all right? That's all I'm asking for, I promise."

"Okay," Adam murmurs, and he knows he's agreeing to it both for his sake and your own. He didn't want to lose you but he also needed someone, and so it worked out in it's own mysterious way. "I can do that, Y/N."

And then he's pulling away just enough to meet your gaze, and you have a tear running down your cheek, but you're smiling.

"I love you," you whisper.

Adam leans in and you let him kiss you in a way that says that he loves you more, in a way that says every single thing that Adam cannot find it in himself to speak at the current.

Adam opens up to you that night. It happens long after you've eaten your Chinese food and before you've bothered to light candles in order to save on your light bill, but the conversation is very long and ends up with Adam having a break down while you press a soothing kiss to his forehead and he asks if you have any bowls to smoke so that he can ease his anxieties. All in all, though, you both end up thinking it's worth it because, by the conversations end, you're on the same wavelength again and that is one of the best feelings in both of your experiences.

You quickly devise strategies to distract him when his anxiety kicks up, be it with a story of a stray you saw while on a walk through the Jersey gardens or offering to watch a crappy 60s era horror movie after you've smoked a bowl or two. You learn what his tells are, when something is triggering his trauma, and along with learning his tells you learn to act accordingly.

Like, when a few weeks after he's escaped, a story of possible Jigsaw victims in Mexico makes it to your local news channel and his anxiety kicks back in despite the fact Mexico and Jersey are a good enough distance away from each other, you notice the first of his tells.

The first of his tells is the fact that his gaze moves to his hands. He scrutinizes his nails at first and will start picking at them with a moments notice, so you stop that. You change the channel to one of the ones that just plays adorable cat segments on loop and grin as you steal his hand away from his gaze, interlacing your fingers with his and using that as a means to lift his arm. Lifting his arm in turn allows you to move closer and let go of his hand as you drape his arm across your shoulders and press a kiss to his jawline as he smiles nervously.

"Everything is okay," you say, grinning in as much of an assured manner as you can. "He's still on the loose, sure, but he's on the loose in Mexico. That's not nearly as scary as him being on the loose here."

"You're trying to help," Adam murmurs. "Thank you for trying, but talking about him isn't really helpful."

You think on the next topic of conversation for a solid twelve seconds.

"Well, how's the stray you've been feeding?"

"Graycie? She's good! Been looking for a new place and I think I'll just bring her with me when I go. Found a decent job last week so all I have to do is find a place within range and I'm pretty much set."

"Move in with me," you suggest, blurting the words out before you can stop yourself. "I mean--it's been three years anyway and the rent here is only a third of the paycheck I make working in marketing so you realistically don't have to pay any at all! You can cover groceries or utilities or something, if you're adamant about contributing. The building is also pet friendly so there's definitely that."

Adam blinks surprisedly, mouth open in somewhat shock. "You're--you're sure?"

"It's either you move in or you life in the building you were taken from, which also has roaches," you shrug. "Plus--the bed gets really lonely at night without you and your intense body heat. I can help you move out, Adam, and we can live together, share a car, do all of the silly couple shit."

Adams face breaks out into a grin, and he nods. "Yeah," he says. "I'll do silly couple shit with you, Y/N, including moving in--long as I get to bring the stray with me."

"I thought the two of you were a package deal," you laugh. "Of course--I'm eager to meet the stink, anyway."

Adam laughs, presses several kisses along the scope of your jawline and by your earlobe, and suddenly what originated as a need to stop his anxious mind from being as it does has turned into a rather momentous, joyous occasion that would probably call for a bottle of wine if it weren't five o'clock on an October Monday.

all in all, your existence becomes a very peaceful one, even when you have to help Adam through bouts where the trauma comes up in the form of memories and triggers.

It's a peaceful existence, and it is one that you love for it's peace.

#adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw (2004)

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nalyra-dreaming · 6 months

Note

Hey nalyra!

I was hoping you could sort of help put some thoughts in order.

So, what I keep seeing often is the discourse of lestat deserving the murder night vs lestat did not deserve it and that's why paris happens.

On one hand I agree murder night "needed" to happen bc the household had turned too toxic for all of them and something had to give ( and lestat did not seem about to relent on anything tbh ).

And then we have lestat himself saying he would have done the same thing and in a way its his fault things ended up the way they did. ( and we have sam saying lestat needs to be humbled to start a character journey in the next seasons)

On the other hand, there is the argument that paris happened because lestat did not deserve what happened in murder night and murder night was a mistake that claudia and louis paid for with the trial.

I find it hard to agree with the latter (it sounds too punitive and I don't think the trial had anything to do with actual rules it was all armand getting back at lestat and getting louis to himself) but as a lestat fan it was hard to watch murder night and say lestat deserved it as well!!

What are your thoughts on this whole mess? 🤔 😅

Okay, so... I personally think it is not that clear cut.

Because there are a lot of things involved in all of this.

For one - I keep saying - the abuse itself is in the book, so Louis did experience it as abuse, at least at times.

Now, Jacob has said that Louis "presents Lestat as a monster", because he is hurt by what happened. So Louis exaggerates (at the very least a little bit) - for reasons.

However, a tale is also always built on truth.

The Lestat in the book was very young still, and had a temper (well, he does not lose that, lol). Louis remarks on not saying something because he feared Lestat would destroy the parlor in a rage. They fight. And so on. Canon. The Lestat in the show is older, and jaded through loneliness - I personally think that is a great way to introduce the more bitter parts of the relationship, because it lends towards possessiveness and a certain remoteness, because he just sees it very, very differently to Louis, and sometimes cannot really empathize with Louis' actual problems. (Sam notes on that in the podcast, too.)

Now. When Lestat says in TVL that Claudia attacking him was "something he might have done himself"... then that refers to him trapping her in a too small, too fragile, too weak body - for eternity.

He knows he should not have made her. He is aware of that. That is what he refers to there:

From TVL:

But what had I done to Claudia? And when would I have to pay for that? How long was she content to be the mystery that bound Louis and me so tightly together, the muse of our moonlit hours, the one object of devotion common to us both? Was it inevitable that she who would never have a woman's form would strike out at the demon father who condemned her to the body of a little china doll? [...] And on a warm sultry night in the spring of the year 1860, she rose up to settle the score. She enticed me, she trapped me, and she plunged a knife over and over again into my drugged and poisoned body, until almost every drop of the vampiric blood gushed out of me before my wounds had the precious few seconds in which to heal. I don't blame her. It was the sort of thing I might have done myself. And those delirious moments will never be forgotten by me, never consigned to some unexplored compartment of the mind. It was her cunning and her will that laid me low as surely as the blade that slashed my throat and divided my heart. I will think on those moments every night for as long as I go on, and of the chasm that opened under me, the plunge into mortal death that was nearly mine. Claudia gave me that.

From Merrick:

Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young. I winced at the recollection. Lestat had been condemning himself when he'd spoken those words to her, he'd been offering himself up to her rage. She'd known it.

And here is the crux of it all: "murder night" does need to happen in the grand scheme of things in order to bring both Louis and Lestat onto their journey... they both need to get a reality check, both need to be hauled low so to speak to be able to ultimately heal and the justification is what was done to Claudia (not Louis). And to find peace with themselves.

However, and here is the "problem", if you will - this crime against nature, against Claudia was not only done by Lestat. And that is what her diary entry from "Merrick" is about, and what I believe we already saw hints for in the trial scene when she turns to Louis... Claudia blamed both. "It was never about me." And we saw that already in the show when Claudia argues with Louis before leaving in episode 5, too.

She decided to go and try to kill Lestat, because she thought she could handle Louis more easily.

From Merrick:

To do away with Louis would be foolish, as he is without question the more malleable of the pair. [...] Louis will do as I wish, even unto the very destruction of Lestat, which I plan in every detail. Whereas Lestat would never cooperate with my designs upon Louis. So there my loyalty lies, under the guise of love even in my own heart.

Now, don't get me wrong, I concur with Bailey and Delainey in that Claudia is very justified in her rage, imho :) And... both Lestat and Louis feel the same way, they carry the guilt of what they did to her until the very end.

Now, Paris.

Paris... did happen because Louis and (mostly) Claudia factoring things in) did make a mistake.

They thought (mostly Claudia, and the show hints at that in that episode 6 sex scene when she says to Louis that they "cannot be all like him") that Lestat was the worst.

Like the big bad vampire™, the worst of the worst™, and him (certainly) making mistakes or having a temper or even physically fighting with Louis was the absolute worst that could possibly happen to them.

And that... is the (big, fatal) mistake that is being made.

The show gave us Lestat already brushing Paris off, so I believe show Louis will be a bit more... careful when they get there. A bit more reluctant. Nonetheless, neither Claudia nor Louis are prepared for the old world covens. Or their rules.

Lestat kept them mostly human, a family, because Marius had advised him to do so.

Claudia and Louis, despite their run-ins with the revenants, have no concept of the rules, the viciousness, nor the strength to defend themselves.

They kill off their only protection (so to speak) - and will pay for it.

I believe in one of the interviews it was called "out of the frying pan and into the fire", and that is, unfortunately, very fitting.

That is why "murder night" was a mistake... in Claudia's calculation.

Louis will come to the realization that he "hated Lestat for the wrong reasons" in the second half of IWTV. He will come to a lot of realizations, painful realizations, unfortunately.

Ultimately, it boils down to this, I think (very simplified):

No, Lestat (probably) did not deserve "murder night" for what Louis tries to argue for in s1. Because those reasons will turn out to be the wrong reasons, unfortunately, and likely for a variety of reasons (cue "tinkering" and "suppressed memories")

Yes, Lestat (probably) deserved "murder night" for not heeding Marius' warning. For not trying hard enough, too, maybe. For condemning someone that young. For trapping Claudia (and, by extension Louis) like that.

"I should have listened to Marius's warning. I should have stopped for one moment to reflect on it as I stood on the edge of that grand and intoxicating experiment: to make a vampire of "the least of these. " I should have taken a deep breath."

But he did not.

And the tragedy unfolds.

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marlynnofmany · 2 years

Text

Space Weather and Shuwogs

This ship didn’t have any humans onboard either, but they did have an extra spacesuit in one-size-fits-most human measurements. It smelled, predictably, like feet. It was also a little short for me, but I could deal with a bit of tightness in the shoulders. Much better than braving an actual spacewalk with just a cheap air shield.

They needed my long human fingers, you see.

“It’s between these panels,” explained the small lizardy being beside me. Her suit was the same boring gray as mine, but the face behind the dome was a yellow more eye-searing than the ship. She was a very businesslike lemon lizard. “We have tools somewhere that can probably reach it, but those might scratch the surface, and anyway an idiot who shall remain nameless put them in the wrong place. No idea where they are. Go ahead and grab it if you can. Then we can finish welding.” She waved back toward the pair of crewmembers waiting with repair gear.

“No rush,” called the other lizardy Heatseeker, her scales a mottled orange. “It’s a nice view out here.” She pointed her tail down at the moon we were orbiting. “Lovely clear space weather.”

“Yes, rush,” grumbled the bug alien in a segmented exo suit. His gray outfit was decorated with adhesive spangles and fake gemstones, which was certainly a choice. From what I could see under the dome, his praying-mantis face was gaudy purple and similarly decorated. This sure was a colorful crew.

And they were waiting on me. I took a magnetic-booted step towards the damaged area. “Is the meteorite hot?” I asked. Probably a dumb question, since it had hit the ship hours ago, but better dumb than dead from air loss.

“No, no,” the yellow Heatseeker said with a wave of her tiny hand. “Just a bit of junk where it shouldn’t be. Honestly, I would have gotten a Strongarm to pull it out, but the tentacle arms on their suits are thin and flexible; they might tear. Yours has armored fingers.”

“That it does,” I said. I appreciated that armor. “All right, let me see. Not sure I can reach that far. Does this plate pull out farther?”

“Yup.” She waved the bug alien over. “Put those mighty blades to work. Mind you don’t bop her in the face with a shuwog.”

“Shuwog?” I asked as he proudly clicked his way over, pincher arms at the ready.

The orange Heatseeker burst into song. “WHAT THE HELL IS A SHUWOG?” she bellowed, making me jump. “Someone tell me ‘bout the shuwog. All the times I’ve heard shuwog … nothing rhymes with a shuwog … c’mon explain it to meeee…”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I said.

"It's a song!" she replied.

"An annoying song," the bug guy muttered as he fit his pincher blades into the opening.

"But what's the answer?" I asked.

The orange Heatseeker pushed the repair kit forward and launched into an explanation. "In the Mesmer language, the term for that part of their arm translates as 'Sacred Hinge Upon Which Our Glorious Blade Arms Pivot to Eviscerate Pathetic Prey-Beings.’ That makes the massive acronym 'SHUWOGBAPEPPB.' It shortens to shuwog, and the band The Loud Ones just came out with a song about it, which is very catchy..."

The Mesmer cranked on the panel with more violence than necessary, and held it open for me. "Stupid song," he said. "Disrespectful."

“No it’s not! It honors the sacredness of your arm parts! And makes a catchy dance tune.”

I edged around him to peer into the crevice and reach for the meteorite. "So a shuwog is…"

"Wrist," said the yellow Heatseeker. "It's his wrist. The bendy part. Their language is unnecessarily flowery."

"Very necessary!" the Mesmer objected. “To showcase our glory!”

I closed my armored fingers on the space rock and pulled it out with nary a scrape. “Got it!” I held it up in triumph, ready to say more, but stopped when something bounced off the hull near my head.

"Shrapnel! Get inside!" the yellow one shouted. The others were already scrambling for the hatch.

"Did we do a full orbit already??" asked the orange one, struggling with the repair kit.

The Mesmer looped a pincher through the straps and dragged her along with it. "Yes."

I kept close, hunching my shoulders as more small things hit different parts of the ship. The crewmembers tumbled through the hatch and pulled me along with them, slamming it behind me just before a large chunk of something whanged into it. I managed to smack my arm on the bulkhead, but took no other damage.

"Everybody okay?" the yellow one asked. The others said yes.

"Yeah, just a bump," I said, realizing I was still holding the space rock. I moved it to my other hand and shook my arm dramatically. "Ow. Right in the shuwog."

The glare that the Mesmer gave me, with angled antennas and flaring mouthparts, was balanced out by the bray of laughter from the orange Heatseeker. Even the yellow one snorted.

"Sorry. My wrist's not sacred," I told him.

The orange one was still laughing. "Sure it is!" she said. "It helped get the rock out from behind the panel! Saved the day! We can finish the repairs as soon as the junk cloud is past."

"That may be a while," said the yellow one. "I'll check with--"

"Let's sing to pass the time! C'mon, I'll teach you the words."

The Mesmer slammed a button to open the door between the airlock and hallway (with his shuwog) and flounced out, stomping with all four feet. He took off his helmet as he went. "Call me when it's time to weld. I will be ANYWHERE else."

"Party pooper. Anyway, it starts with a drum solo..."

The yellow Heatseeker left on official business while the orange one trailed out into the hallway before settling down to explain at length.

I followed. The hallways were tall enough for me to stand up on this ship.

“The chorus is the best part, but even the background singers have a good time. If you can say ‘shuwogbapeppb’ a few times in a row, you’ve got it. And the beat is so danceable!”

I set the rock down on the floor next to my helmet, listened to asteroid chunks raining down outside, and I learned a very catchy song.

~~~

I’m exploring backstory in honor of the book coming out soon. There are so many adventures to be had!

#humans are weird #this one came from a conversation about what term to use #so glad I found a way to actually use it in a story #my writing #Robin Bennett #the Token Human #at first that was just the name of the comics #but it occurs to me that if I make the upcoming novel into a series #that would make a fine series name #looking forward to it #humans are space orcs #haso #earth is a deathworld #hfy

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secretgamergirl · 9 months

Text

A Refresher on the Whos and Hows of Harassment Campaigns

The other day someone said something that reminded me of a particularly good work from a friend of mine, so I said "hey, you might like this," and was met with, roughly, "that does sound good, but ooh, I recommend that name, I don't want to support that person at all." Now, perhaps you'd think I'd be taken aback by this, and curious why the person I was talking to had such a huge problem with my friend, but I knew exactly why.

The friend in question has been the target of a massive life-ruining harassment campaign for something like 15 years, primarily rooted, as these things always seem to be, in DARVO tactics. That's an acronym for Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender. Or put more plainly, painting the target as an evil monster who needs to be stopped. But there's a difference in knowing that this is ubiquitous for victims of harassment campaigns, and KNOWING how it works.

I don't want to say anything identifying about any of the many friends I know in this situation, so forgive the vague details, but let me walk through the major points of one of the clearest cases I've seen so you can hopefully learn to spot this crap.

Years ago, someone I knew messaged me out of the blue to alert me that A Bad Person had responded to some social media post of mine, which was just a perfectly nice pleasant little response. This was the first sign that this was not, in fact, A Bad Person, but a DARVO victim. The first rule to completely destroying someone's life is really aggressively cutting off any possible support network they might have, and making sure either through personal actions or more often establishing some weird sort of perceived norm that all good people need to be mindful of these things, one way to do that is jump in there anytime the target is being introduced to new people they could maybe become friends with.

Personally, I'm not inclined to avoid people just because someone tells me I should, even if it's someone I know and trust, and I encourage this as a value to others. Being an evidence demanding sort though, I was shortly presented with Some Evidence. This is another general truism with DARVO campaigns. Everyone pursuing them tends to have ready access to Some Evidence in the form of a link to, in most situations, like a 30-100 page long blog post, filled with links, images, and detailed date stamps presenting someone as an evil monster. And here again, my personal and professional experience with this has lead me to the possibly surprising conclusion that when someone shoves a link like this in your face, you can just go right ahead and assume the subject of it is the innocent victim of a hate campaign.

First of all, when someone is ACTUALLY a monster, it takes basically no evidence to prove it. Like, take J.K. Rowling. She's one of the most horrifically evil people on the planet. Hates trans people. Wants to see us all dead. She'd rather not have that as her public image, so she'll loudly object to any accusations along those lines and insist she's all puppies and rainbows, but in spite of that, she can't go more than like 10 minutes without an unhinged rant about how much she hates trans people. Like, she'll do it in written defenses against how she does that. You can glance at her social media pages and see just outright clear cut hate speech, or how she follows an astounding number of out and proud fascists. You can look at any news coverage she's tangentially involved in. Life is not a detective novel or a cheesy thriller where evil people manage to keep it completely hidden from everyone except one brave reporter.

So part of he deal with Some Evidence is relying on the reader being familiar with this sort of big info dump as really important in fiction and subconsciously viewing it through that same lens. The substance of Some Evidence is generally irrelevant. A Bad Person, you see, is guilty of a Crime! Whoever put together this very very very long blog post has clearly gone to a Herculean effort to expose this. They have a detailed timeline, they have all these links and screenshots to forum posts. They've hunted down every single user name A Bad Person may have ever used, and provided documentation to prove it all! Look how many links they have! How many bullet points! Look how passionate they are about the seriousness of this matter, and how terrible a thing this Crime is!

And the weirdly insidious thing about this is it isn't just about spamming you with so much text you aren't going to actually bother reading it. What they're hoping is that you DO read all of it, and in the process of doing so, you get so swept up in the narrative they're presenting that you internalize the fact that whatever Crime they're accusing this person of is exactly as evil and terrible a thing as their breathless recounting is portraying it to be, when in reality, I'm having a damn hard time thinking of any time I've seen one of these where the Crime is... anything really. You'd think if someone was going to accuse someone of a crime they didn't commit and make a big deal over it, they'd pick one of the real big ones like murder or defrauding a charity or terrorist bombings or something, but no. Real serious stuff is way easier to prove didn't happen if anyone cared, so the go-to strategy is to make a mountain out of a molehill so small that skeptical types won't even bother checking if it even happened, but make such a stink about it that the people who get suckered in still treat it as the most serious of things.

Actual examples of the Crimes I've seen in this sort of thing, off the top of my head: Sleeping with several men, just you know, at some point or other. Disliking A Good Person. Having once spoken to A Bad Person, or just being vaguely associated with them in some vague way. Criticizing a work of fiction over how it handled a subject (bad trans rep, colonialist values, weird depiction of another culture, whatever), drawing fan art or writing fan fiction where someone is off-model or not in character or, anything at all romantic or sexy happens, dressing up in a goofy costume, and standing near A Good Person in a photo who clearly wouldn't want to be seen anywhere near A Bad Person (and yes that last one DOES involve more circular logic than usual). Some of the most effective campaigns I've seen have had Crimes that go past not being any sort of offense to anyone from a rational perspective but are outright good things for someone to be doing. Spin is a hell of a drug.

It should also be noted that while Some Evidence generally puts a huge emphasis on noting the exact dates when the Crime and various other data points occurred and how great and terrible an offense this was to The Real Victim In All This, you basically never hear about this from someone who has even the most tenuous connection to The Real Victim In All This, and it tends to be presented as breaking news, even when Some Evidence pretty clearly points out that if the Crime even happened at all, it did so anywhere between 1-20 years ago. I don't know that I've ever seen one of these campaigns even get started over something in recent memory. Picking or inventing something far enough in the past that nobody who was allegedly there is going to have really clear memories one way or the other is ideal for the key point of making it both difficult and a low priority to actually get a first hand account of the Crime from anyone.

Also I really have to stress that this sort of thing doesn't tend to all come down to one crank with a grudge personally pushing the whole hate campaign. The goal is to execute all this in such a way that the overwhelming majority of harassment, isolation, and reputation tarnishing isn't done by whoever set it all into motion, but by well-intentioned rubes who get swept up enough in the narrative not to question any of it. They don't know the first thing about the target here, but they're going to go around saying things like "I had no idea this person was A Bad Person until someone sent me this link. They stopped me from maybe getting involved with someone really scary, so now I'm just paying that forward as much as I can by warning other people."

So hopefully if I'm succeeding here in getting you to think critically about this sort of thing, you're maybe thinking hey, if the random accusations people write these novel-length blog posts about generally boil down to the sort of stupid crap that'd maybe get a person banned from the cool kids' table in high school rather than anything that would actually spurn efforts to completely destroy a person's life, what's the real reason they do this crap? Well, sometimes, it's just going to be some completely irrational thing like deciding someone represents a vague threat to the orchestrator or someone they're weirdly stalking, or good old fashioned bigotry, but I think honestly the number one true motivation for this sort of thing might be that whole bit about isolating victims from any possible support network.

Stripping away support networks is, if I recall, literally the first thing suggested by the abuser's handbook. It's an actual guide, I have a copy of it that was getting shared around to help nazis coordinate back in 2014, but I... don't want to actually double check the ordering of bullet points. It's important though. If you want to end the life of Susie, you need to make sure Susie is completely alone, with nobody to turn to for aid or even just basic emotional support. And so if you notice that Robyn is out there defending Susie from your mass harassment campaign, and every effort you've made to drive a wedge between them or intimidate Robyn out of defending Susie, that means Robyn's gotta go. Time to write a new novel-length blog post, get as much of the world as you can convinced that Robyn is a monster. Hell, it's even worth it to try and convince Susie.

A weird little quirk that results from this is that honestly some of the most horrible, longest lasting attacks of this nature I've seen have been against people who otherwise seem like they'd be impervious to this sort of hate-mobbing, but they make an active point of standing up for trans people. Now like, obviously, I know a truckload of trans people literally driven out of public life by this crap because the average person is just entirely too willing to accept that any given one of us is some sort of evil shapeshifter if given the slightest push, and we'd probably be more prominent examples if we didn't just kinda get disappeared, but yeah if you're cis and it's known in the right circles that you've used your platform to give me a shout-out or treated me to dinner odds are pretty good you're in the top 10 of people I personally know that people have been trying to bring down with total BS for the past decade or so, and you know, we see you, we support you, thanks for fighting that good fight.

If this has all been a bit much to read, here's the short version. Do not ever go around talking crap about someone you don't know just because someone told you they suck. I don't care how much you trust the person you're hearing it from. I don't care if they show you Some Evidence that it'd take you three days to read through. If you can't (or don't want to bother to) look them up directly, on your own, and see them doing evil crap out in public, leave them the hell alone. Don't go spreading rumors. Don't say you've "heard some things." There are no acceptable casualties in this. Be 100% sure or mind your own damn business. ACAB still applies when it's self-appointed community policing. Oh and it should go without saying that obviously this doesn't apply to stuff like a friend telling you they're in an abusive relationship or they've been assaulted or whatever. I'm talking about crap like warning people not to read books or watch reviews or whatever from people you have no personal connection to here.

And of course here's the point where I remind you that I have been out of work for years and have had to change my name and address multiple times to avoid being freaking murdered thanks to the sort of campaigns I'm talking about here, and it would really do a lot to help me continue being alive if anyone felt like maybe heading over to my patreon and throwing some cash my way.

#darvo #whisper campaigns #harassment #abuse #isolation #anti harassment

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